Disclaimer: I do not own Wild Arms 3. (Note: this is like the place I answer reviews, so it might not make much sense if you haven't seen the review page) Dear Guardians... I've murdered two more people! First Gallows 'Stalker, then Lufia, now Gallows too! I'm like Ge Ramtos, everything I touch dies! ... (evil smile)... hehehehehehe... First off, I would like to thank the Temple of Guardianism Website for help on the names of all the Guardians in all three games (there's your answer TetsouTsubushi) and I am hoping to be added to their lists of Guardianists soon. If you go to the site, you can see a new picture of the Guardian of Fire that looks SO SWEET. Anyway, Here is my behind schedule update:

Lombardia was enjoying her cruise across the bright blue Filgaian sky. Things were going the dragon's way today, so it seemed. She had just gotten back from teasing the other modes of transportation. Today she had succeeded in making the Sandcraft give into an inferiority complex.

It felt good to be one of the oldest living mechanization in the world. And it helped having rocket boosters, launching canons, and weighing nearly 100 tons.

But, it was a truly beautiful day with nothing to do but laze around and fly.

Unless, of course, you happen to fall into a plot line.

As it so happened, on Lombardia's special day of doing nothing, as she was crossing over the expanse known to the local residents as the 'Sea of Sand', Lombardia witnessed something truly extraordinary.

"Oh my Guardians!" Lombardia squeaked. "It appears to be dragon mating season already. And a fine pair those two make." Lombardia dove in for a closer look. "Well," She whispered in self-defense, "Dragon's have needs too."

As the perversion driven dragon looked closer she found that it was not indeed two mating dragons she was looking at (damn), but a giant pile of sinking... Demons?!

"Ack! The enemy!" Lombradia immediately pulled back and opened her canon booster. And a can of whoop-ass.

The Guardians trapped in the sandy doom beneath had a total of three seconds to react fully to the oncoming assault.

The third second of which was spent praying for their lives. No, not to themselves, stupid. To the Mighty Gerbil from Above. Can't go wrong with rodents from the sky.

Moor Gault, being both the only Guardian not trapped in a sea of sand and the only atheist, decided to take a much more intelligent choice. He ran for his bloody, flaming, life in a desperate attempt to alter impending doom. Unfortunately, there also happens to be a Guardian of Time located about five feet away. And that doesn't help when you're trying to alter Fate.

You can run, but you can't hide. MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!...ahem.

But, in the end, no one died. Sure, there WAS a big explosion, a lot of coughing, and a pile of flesh and metal still sinking in sand. But no death. Because this is a PG-13 and I don't think we're ready for that step yet, people!

Anyhow, our protagonist Moor Gault was literally ready to explode from fear. All the Guardians in the sinking pile had stopped praying by now, as they instead looked up towards to sky to see what had deflected the missile. As for the ones on the bottom, may Solus Emsu accept them with open arms.

"A spaceship?!" Moor Gault shouted in disbelief and stopped trembling in his non-existent boots.

Debris from the alien vessel began to descend from the sky and onto the ground. Lombardia looked less surprised then everyone else. "Hey, there are a lot weirder things on this planet then aliens. All of which I will not go into right now. Anyway," Lombardia swooped down and landed with a hard 'thud' on the ground. "Back to the matter at hand." She finished.

Lombardia began to speak, holding her best noble tone quality. "Thou demons hast cometh upon thine's world where demons are the enemy of all virtue and purity. Thou demons from yonder distant star, we must duel for the sake of this one's planet."

"What the hell did you just say?" Moor Gault chanced to ask.

"Thou demons from thine yonder star must fall to the wrath of a thousand suns."

"What?"

"GET THE HELL OFF MY PLANET!!!" Lombardia burst in sudden-poetic beauty.

"Hey, listen up, dragon." As Moor Gault spoke he felt like the big cheese. Or big flaming ball of fire and fumes. Either ways fine. "I've been guarding this planet just fine before you were even a atom of aluminum. I think I can handle this by myself, thank you very much."

"Would that, by chance, be thou's pack of hooligans sinking in the Seas of Sand?" Lombardia pointed a giant metal arm over to the pile of Guardians. One waved back nervously in response. Moor Gault mentally gave himself a give whack in the brain.

"Yes." He answered solemnly.

"Then, this one might have a proposition to make with thou. This one does not use any rocket launchers, grenade packs, or dooms-day devices on thou's pack of elemental minions whilst saving them from a most undesirable demise and thou apologize for calling me aluminum. I believe this one is titanium, thank you very much."

"You strike a hard bargain, dragon." Moor Gault spoke. But, when your up against one of the most powerful creatures since the dawn of time itself and your entire force is (still) sinking in a endless sea of sand you tend to except any help you can get. "-But I'll accept."

It was quite an amazing experience, soaring through the open Filgaian sky on a dragon's rough metal back. Unless, of course, one of two things get in the way. 1) Your hanging from a tiny piece of string located too close to the jet boosters for comfort, or 2) Your afraid of heights.

"Wow, it's really high up here... maybe we can swing down a little, possibly just walk from here on... Watch out!" Two burning red wings held a death grip onto whatever they could grasp on the metal dragon that just narrowly avoided a cliff face.

"It surprises this one that one such as thou has a fear of the sky, being born with wings to graze the clouds with and all. What with thou bolting from the sky to blaze the enemy with inferno no beast can match." Lombardia's voice boomed.

Moor Gault straightened up defensively while still clutching Lombardia for dear life. " Well, you have to make sacrifices being a Guardian and all... but the root of my problem I think is in my childhood days... my father used to tell me that the sky was a giant net and if you flew in it you died... My father was always lying!" He wailed in remorse.

"Oh... you mean like the apple seed gig?" She questioned.

"What apple seed gig?"

"Thou knows... where thine's father declares if thou consumes a seed from a apple plant then a tree will grow in thine's stomach."

"Oh! Funny story... that really happened to me once. In fact, that tree's still in there." Moor Gault smiled as Lombardia sighed.

"Well, what are thou to do once thou's army has started thine's quest again?" She asked.

The Fire Guardian looked back at his 'comrades' who had been starring at him in a menacing manner since they had managed to climb onto a rope lowered by the dragon and escaped the most unpleasant demise. It was kind of creepy having all those yellow eyes all peering at once at you... He wondered what they were thinking right now...

Zephyr: I am soooo gonna kill—

"Enough! Enough already! Oh... we'll figure something out sooner or later."

"Might this one suggest a kind of group therapy to recreate the bond of a commander and his troop?"

Moor Gault took awhile to ponder this idea. Therapy? I dunno... with all this tension it could make things worse. But then... everything we've done so far has been pretty bad... aw, what the hey! I'll do it! "Yeah, therapy will help a lot! It will do wonder on our fight against Lucied!"

"Lucied? Of Desire? Oh, fine lass she is! She once told this one that my desire of death from immortality was foolish and she had better things to look for like old desperate man and young angst teens to feed off of desires from." Lombradia spoke happily.

"You... are an ally of Desire?"

"Yes. I suppose I am."

Moor Gault slipped a small cutlass that he always kept at his side out from his pocket. You can't live in Filgaia without a cutlass in you pocket!

"I'm sorry, but I'll have to kill you now." He said.

"Okay everyone, it's time to here your letter now." The voice echoed all across the twilight sky. It wasn't a horrible idea. It was certainly better then the other so far, this new prospect of ' group psychology'. It was only 2,000 Gella for a specialist to say that they could better express they're anger through writing rather then spoken words and so the idea of 'letter' therapy' had come. Okay, it wasn't the best idea either. But it was worth a shot!

Schturdark was the first to step up with a piece of lined paper in her hands. She began to read it aloud. "Dear Moor Gault, It makes me feel sad when you always put us other Guardians down by making us seem stupider then you. We each have souls and feelings, but express them differently. No hurt feelings, but we should try to—"

Fengalon shot a paw up into the air urgently. "Oh! Oh! Can I go now?"

Moor Gault sighed. " Yes you may, Fengalon."

"Dear Moor Gault," The white tiger began. "I think you are a big motherfu—"

"That's it!" Moor Gault burst, slamming his wings on the ground. "This is pointless! We're hunting an enemy here! We don't have time for this stuff! There's got to be a faster way..."

"I agree." Celesdue got up and spoke quickly. "A way that will satisfy most of us."

Most...? He thought uneasily.

"Wiffle bats."

"Wiffle... bats?" He asked cautiously.

In response Celesdue pulled out a long yellow padded bat and held it for all to see. "A wiffle bat. Observe."

A yellow streak of light moved with expertise at its main target.

"Ow! That kind of hurt..." Moor Gault rubbed tenderly the part of his head that had been bashed.

"Wiffle bats." Celesdue said simply, pointing back at the victim.

One by one, yellow bats began to appear in the possession of the other Guardians.

"Hey... hold on there a second... where did you get those all of a sudden?" Moor Gault took a step back from the advancing party.

"Hey! Let's go back to 'therapy letter', huh? Fengalon, I liked yours... please continue... Wait a second guys... all my father told me was a lie!" But it was too late for excuses, he was cornered.

And the night air went alight with the sound of wiffling.

"Well, this is great! Were in this story by a thread and all we've managed to do is make both Jet and Clive horribly more angst then usual!" Gallows yelled, the comical relief quickly draining out of him. Jet and Clive both sat on the log next to the fire and sighed.

"I know what we need! An insider to alert us on current events!" Virginia popped up with the idea. Jet, Clive and Gallows all sighed in unison.

"Like who?" Gallows asked skeptically.

"Asgard!" She replied. "All we have to do is revive Asgard and send him in the plot line! It's bullet proof... almost bullet proof... all we need to do is figure out how to raise Asgard from the dead!"

"How long will that take?"

She counted a bit on her fingers. "Two days and ten cans of soda!"