A 3-part fanfic starring Soarel, my knight.

CHAPTER ONE: THE CHROMA CONSTRUCT

Soarel walked into the pod camp, tired from exploring the Wolver Den. A small snipe flew around his head, pecking at the Angelic Helm he wore. The huge "building" at the center of the camp was cobbled together from at least six banged-up pods and a few rusty shields. Nailed to the top of the entrance was a crude wooden sign that marked the site as the Chroma Tear Tavern. Rubbing his hand upon his armor, Soarel brandished his sword. Spiral taverns were not to be trusted, but as a member of the elite Venture Guard he had to partake in this. Two crossed Proto Swords yielded the entrance of the tavern, and from beneath them a hooded figure emerged.

"You're Late."

From beneath the robes, a tiny green hand pointed at the bushes. "What are you doing here? I don't see Knights often," said the creature. He pulled back his hood slightly and spat upon the grass. Two large eyes and a dangling tongue emanated from the man's green face.

"A chromalisk? How is this possible?" said Soarel in disbelief. As far as he knew, Chromalisks were dumb creatures that lurked in the woods and attacked Knights. A talking chromalisk who wore clothing and made shady deals was not natural. If he was to bust the smuggling ring, he had to figure out the deal behind the chromalisk. Soarel decided to end the deal now. Drawing his blade, he struck a great blow to the chromalisk's body. With that, a blast and mechanical hiss emerged from the "chromalisk".

Patrons rushed out of the bar and saw the terror that unfolded as the construct exploded. with the artificial head, hands, and tongue of a chromalisk, and a robe, the machine was convincing. This con man's creation was hiding a greater secret, though. in a pocket of its "robe" lay a note with a single scrawl written upon it.

†¶∏∏Ø˚ÅÔˆ∏Ò≤Ø

The odd collection of symbols could mean only one thing--gremlin code script. The smuggling ring was not just knights--Tinkinzar, king of gremlins, was involved. The only two readable letters in the script were a code word for "king", and a scrambled version of the word "smuggler". The mission goal was confirmed. Captain Ozlo would be glad to know that the Gremlins were at it again and there was evidence for his suspicion.

Only one thing remained a mystery.

Why a Chromalisk robot and not a Knight?

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CHAPTER TWO: THE MYSTIC MIST

Soarel's team trudged throughout the Aurora Isles, Flourishes and Caliburs at the ready. But all of the monsters they saw were cowering, hiding behind bushes and shivering under trees. They all stared towards the temple on the horizon--a dark black temple covered in glowing cracks. The Temple of Etiero, forbidden home of the Trojan Shatarun. And this Shatarun, the crystal that formed all Trojans, was the goal of Soarel and his squad. For with the Shatarun destroyed, the gremlins' mysterious goals would end.

What was the goal? Only one member of the squad knew anything--Soarel himself. Wrapping a poncho about his armor, Soarel shivered from the cold air around the temple. Huge crystal outcroppings were marked with the signs of gremlins--carved letters, the IronClaw symbol, and three gears. These omens did not bode well with the squad. As Qenya, the squad translator, deciphered the marks, Soarel began to climb the steps of Etiero. His squad reluctantly pulled on the ponchos and pulled up their hoods. The immense cold in the temple was intended to catch Knights off guard and distract them from the Trojans within.

But from the shadows, three gremlins struck! wielding stolen Brandishes, they quickly dispatched the poorly equipped Qenya. Upon stabbing the helpless knight, they robbed her of energy and sliced off her head. Her glowing eyes, dark face, and tiny mouth rolled to Soarel's feet. Stricken with grief, he lunged his charge attack and spun-slash-kicked all three gremlins to the floor. With a puff of purple smoke, they died.

"Sir, I wish to warn you!" a voice creaked from above. Hanging from a spear by his cape, a Spiral Vanguard shifted his limp body. He was severely wounded, covered in both gremlin and Trojan blade marks, and his helm lay sadly on the steps. With his exposed to the elements, frostbite began to set in. As he drew his last breaths, he spoke once more.

"If the trojan....it comes....all to the left boys...you goes it....the gremlins have...an....old key...two to three...can't beat me...ending the swords....I'm a tumor...I'm a tumor...look at my horse...my horse is amazing...." he mumbled. The words made no sense, but a few had to mean SOMETHING. "ending the swords" "the trojan...it comes" "the gremlins have...an old key".

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The curses have begun. The time draws near. The Organic Trojans awaken.

CHAPTER THREE: THE TROJANS TOGETHER

Soarel cracked open the old door that blocked up the temple. With a single sharp blow, he sliced the dying vines from the entrance and looked in both awe and fear. For from beyond the door, this temple was not the stereotypical trap-filled danger room. It was what a temple ought to be--a place of worship or at least one of great power. In the center lay Shatarun, glowing and pulsing with power.

One ambitious knight, known as Endryn, took his hammer and smashed Shatarun. But striking it only sent out a blast of energy to a crystal on the wall. The Trojan statue next to it fused to the crystal, forming what appeared to be a T3 Trojan. But this one was different--it bore a Gran Faust and a Darkfang Shield. Obviously Gremlins had influenced its creation. But the Gran Faust-- only Devilites could find those. Was there a third player in the scheme? The Trojan's eyes glowed with an unnatural light as it began to become more alive--more organic--not just a statue animus.

"Tinkinzar!" cried a Gremlin from the shadows. The king of gremlins emerged from behind the Trojan, which appeared to serve him. Four Devilite Overtimers escorted him, spinning their Fausts and Darkfang Shields. The Gremlin minions of Tinkinzar, flanked by Devilites and Pit Bosses, surrounded the squad. From the ceiling of the temple, mechanical arms deployed robot replicas of various monsters. They were marked by names--"For Haven's Trap" "For Moorcroft's Trap" "For Emberlight's Trap" and, in the case of the Chromalisks, "For Soarel's Trap".

"So that's why they used a Chromalisk," said Soarel's gunner. It was indeed a trap--a trap to lure the Knights into the plot. A plot so fiendish (excuse the pun) that even Lord Vanaduke could not create it. Masterminds behind the project included Tinkinzar, the Organic Trojans, and the Devilite Pit Bosses. Three forces in this battle--a battle that could not be won alone.

"Oncethe! Contact Kozma for weapons! Geiveren! Contact Captain Ozlo for reinforcements! Endryn! Contact Barrus for armor! " cried Soarel in dismay. But his final target, Endryn, had fled into the crowd, flipping Pit Bosses away with ease. As Trojans and Gremlins surrounded Endryn, Soarel saw this as his last chance. With a noble and brave action, he leaped from the platform of Shaturu and into the crowd. The two had their last moments in the evil embrace--no matter how many Gremlins they slew, they ultimately fell.

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EPILOGUE

The Soarel you know today is not the one who fought in this battle. For once Kozma and Ozlo had delivered their reinforcements and gear, he already had died. With aid from the captured Devil-ITs, they restored his broken body--with an energy capacitor to replace his damaged lungs. But his memory was lost. So taking his gear from him, they sent him off to the Skylark's crash site...