Hola chicos y chicas! This is Diabowserker with a new, and hopefully longer, chapter. I make no excuses for my laziness.

Toxin dashed along the wall, unwilling to let any of his precious break time be wasted. He blew past a pair of sentries, narrowly avoided impaling the sergeant with his pike, and just as he reached the ladder that descended the outer wall into the military zone between it and Frelgato City, he crashed headlong into a red blur moving faster than him. They both went tumbling backwards, weapons and equipment clattering along the stone. "Moron!" his friend Flannery stood up, brushing herself off. "Watch where you're going mola kiln!" Flannery was well known for her sharp tongue, as well as for her knowledge of Old Organic. She had a lithe form, her skin a vibrant red, and at just short of ten years, her leaf was just beginning to bud. Some were intimidated by her quick tongue and menacing tones, but her eyes always danced with a merry light that could set others at ease. She was intensely intelligent, but despite three years friendship, Toxin still did not have the slightest idea what she had called him. Toxin stood and brushed himself off. "If you want me to take offense, O Knowledgeable One," he said as he began gathering his gear up, "You'll have to speak a language I can understand."

Flannery laughed, then let out a series of weird clicking sounds, followed by a stream of deep grunt-like sounds, and several other noises less easily described. "None of that ring a bell?" she asked.

Toxin laughed. "It sounds like you have a large amount of chloroplast caught in your throat."

Flannery hit him with the back end of her spear. "Someday I'm going to teach you how to speak a different language so that I don't have to deal with your stupidity!"

"Hey, my parents aren't diplomats or Dweevil breeders or farmers!"

Flannery chuckled. "I'm joking, stupid." The two friends proceeded down the ladder. Flannery reached the bottom first and started shaking the ladder. Toxin struggled to hold on as he shouted, "Weak, Flannery, weak!" Of course, he stopped shouting that once Flannery shook him loose and he hit the ground. Then he started saying something stronger. When his cursing subsided, Flannery helped Toxin to his feet. "Idiotic One," she said to him with a smile.

"Come again?"

"That's what I called you. Mola kiln, idiotic one. Of course," she said with a chuckle, "Frela kiln might be more appropriate."

"What's that mean?"

"Weak One." Flannery ducked away from Toxin's rather predictable blow with a smile and took off towards the new recruit bunker, halfway across the military zone. With a laugh, Toxin followed.

Delve only wished that he could find some amusement in the situation before him. He was a moron, an utter dunce, a thrice-damned fool. Why oh why had he put sedative cordial in the nectar cup? Sure, detached duty was boring as hell, but he should've known by now that his pranks did not always have the intended outcome. He'd been assigned by Walden, the stuffy green pikmin in charge of logistics, to brew a pitcher of nectar cooler, often referred to as nectool or just nectar. He was to take it to a meeting of some officers, and Delve had no doubt he'd been given this task because his father was a skilled brewer and he was known to be very good at it as well. Delve had fumed, angry that he'd been given detached duty when he'd done nothing wrong. Well, this time, he could remember thinking. He had continued fuming even as he mixed autumn and winter Honeywisp nectars together from the previous year, adding small dashes of Pellet Juice and mixing it all into a very fine drink. Then, just as he had been about to head off for the meeting, it had occurred to him how funny it would be to one-up his commanders. Most of them were obnoxious and arrogant, and he would very much enjoy getting back at someone for putting him to drudge work for no reason. He cursed to himself. He should've known better, but Delve was never very good at thinking things through. Adding the sedative cordial had been simple, as an emergency stash of cordials was kept in every military building in case of emergencies. After bringing the pitcher to the meeting room, Delve had discovered, much to his chagrin, that this was no meeting of minor officers but a meeting consisting of the First Captain, three Generals, and Lord Kirome, Ruler of Frelgato. He'd had no choice but to deliver the drugged drink and then run for his life. It hadn't worked and now he was facing Walden and the prospect of possible exile. Delve swallowed nervously as he waited for the mottled green pikmin to begin. Greens may be immune to explosions, but this one was insanely volatile. After what seemed a lifetime Walden stopped pacing and turned towards Delve, his expression grim. "You drugged the drinks of First Captain Remart, Generals Chathem, Dega, and Maiv, along with Lord Kirome." The statement was loaded, daring Delve to deny it. Delve would not fall for it. "Yes, sir," he said with no emotion. This was evidently the wrong move, because Walden surged forward and lifted Delve up by the scruff of his neck.

"Had I the authority to do so," he seethed, rage all too apparent on his face, "I would have you executed for your foolishness and irresponsibility. The use of sedative cordial is very carefully controlled. Getting the dosage wrong can result in permanently slowed reflexes and thinking." He paused and Delve gulped. "I still have half a mind to exile you," Walden went on with more control than before, "But I hear that there is a need for blue drudges on many of the trader barges that come up the Frelgato River. I will give you a choice. You can be confined to the dungeons until the next barge comes along, and then will send you with them as a drudge until the river freezes, and, assuming you survive, you can then resume your duties here. Or you can be exiled, here and now, with your weapons and a pack for supplies."

Walden set him down and Delve's head started swimming. Leave Frelgato? His whole life had been here. He had next to no knowledge about the lands beyond Frelgato Province. How could he just pick up and leave? On the other hand, his alternative wasn't much better. Those who served on the river barges rarely survived their first season. The barges were navigated through rapids, over waterfalls, through icebergs, not to mention the countless creatures living on the water, from Skitterlilies to Wollywogs, plus attack by bandits. Delve knew his limits well enough to know he would not survive his service. Hating himself, Delve spoke two words that would end everything he'd ever known, "Exile me." His voice was barely above a whisper, but Walden nodded and then spoke in a formal tone. "Delve the blue, son of Clayth and Ripple, you are hereby banished from Frelgato City, Frelgato Province and, all of its domains. You will be given your weapons, a pack, and one hour to gather whatever possessions you wish to take with you. These guards will then escort you to the edge of our territory. Your name will be circulated among the towns in the province. If you are found within our boundaries after you vacate, then you shall be tried and executed according to our laws." Walden gestured to the guards, who fell in behind Delve as he made for the exit. One hour later, he was on his way out of Frelgato Province.

"Where are they?" Toxin wondered aloud. He and Flannery had arrived at the bunker they shared with their friends Streak and Delve nearly an hour ago, and there was still no sign of either of them. "It's not like them to be late."

Flannery thought for a minute about the question before coming to a conclusion. "Well, Streak went out with the hunting party, so it's possible that they're on a trail and are missing they're break periods. It's happened to me before. As for Delve," she gave a helpless shrug, "your guess is as good as mine."

Toxin jumped to his feet. "I'm not waiting around any longer. I'll go ask Walden. He may be an enormous pain, but if anyone will know where Delve is, it's him. After all, he was on detached duty. You coming?"

Flannery smiled. "Mola. I wouldn't miss it for the world. Besides, I might have a chance dump ultra-bitter juice in his nectool again. That was quite a sight."

Toxin chuckled at the memory. "Come on Frema Kiln," he said, then jumped back out of range of the punch he anticipated. It didn't come. Flannery stared at him for one second, then burst out laughing. She laughed long and hard until her sides heaved, her stem shook and she gasped for air. Toxin looked at her, perplexed. "What's so funny?" he asked, sure he'd missed something obvious.

Flannery struggled for breath and managed, between chuckles to tell him, "Frela Kiln is Weak One. Frema Kiln means Pretty One." Then, at the sight of Toxin's expression she cracked up again. Toxin could feel his cheeks grow warm with chlorophyll, but he finally broke down and started laughing also. When they'd both subsided, Toxin managed to gasp, "That is a compliment you will never hear me give you again." Flannery hit him. Hard. Toxin raised his fist to retaliate, then dropped it. "I probably deserved that," he admitted, rubbing his arm.

"Definitely," said Flannery, "Let's go find Walden."

Streak swore softly. He'd just caught a glimpse of their quarry, and things could get messy. He slid back down the tree, twin stalks providing him with grip. He hit the forest floor softly, making very little sound. He turned towards Kalban, a red pikmin and the senior ranger on this hunting trip. "It's an antenna beetle, alright. The dangerous kind." A few startled hisses issued from the apprentice rangers and other unassigned members of the party. Kalban, however just nodded, then turned to a green apprentice. "Vell, there are two kinds of antenna beetle. Tell me what they are."

Vell cleared her throat nervously. "One type, variety, kind or whatever…" she stumbled over her words nervously and looked around, embarrassed. When Kalban urged her on, she said, "Yeah, anyway, um, that one can emit sounds that make any pikmin, well besides blacks obviously, but, anyway, the sounds they emit confuse pikmin's senses, make the ground spin, ears buzz, sense of direction collapse, and effectively put us out of action for as long as we can hear the sound." She paused for breath before continuing. "That's the more common kind and is not particularly dangerous, since we can just hang back out of its range and shoot arrows, but there's another kind, far more dangerous. It can direct its sound waves in much the same way the old texts tell us the Founders were able to. The effects of exposure also last longer and can cause permanent damage if pikmin are exposed to it for too long. The radius and range of the sound is also greater."

"Very good," said Kalban, "As this is the kind we're dealing with, I can think of only one acceptable plan. Streak, you're a black pikmin, and, although I hope all of you know what a black pikmin's unique ability is, I know full well that most pikmin join the army because they failed in the Academy. For that reason, I'll ask Streak to explain exactly why blacks are ideal for this kind of scenario."

Streak cleared his throat and said in a clear, concise voice, "Black pikmin can't have their brains influenced by outside forces. That could be anything from antenna beetle disorientation whistles to octave dweevil death sirens to Puffstool infection spores."

"Exactly," said Kalban. "For that reason, you, Streak, will take a direct approach, confronting the beast head on, and hopefully keeping its whistle focused on you. The rest of us will take cover in the trees and fire on it from there. Make no mistake," he added, addressing everyone in the party, "This creature could still get all of us. If our decoy doesn't work, we'll never be able to outrun it and it has a very long range. Hop to!" Everyone went to their positions in the trees as Streak walked to the edge of the clearing where the antenna beetle was grazing. He eased his katana from its sheath, the dull bromine glinting slightly. With the weapon's comfortable weight in his hand, Streak strode purposefully into the clearing. The beetle looked up, its vestigial shoulder wings started vibrating, and a dull whine filled Streak's ears, but he otherwise felt no effects. He kept walking, not altering his pace at all, and the beetle's eyes widened. The beetle took to the air just as a hail of arrows pierced the clearing. Unfortunately, the beetle had taken off a split second before the arrows had arrived and received only flesh wounds. Now it was angry. It came down on Streak faster than he'd thought possible, and he failed to bring his sword up in time. He was slammed into the ground with immense force, unable to bring his sword to bear. He looked into the pain-crazed eyes of the beast, saw its pincers snap towards his stems. He would watch until the end, although it wouldn't be long, he knew. But suddenly the beetle rolled off of him, a spear imbedded in its side. Streak saw, with incredulous eyes, Vell on one knee at the edge of the clearing, having just thrown the spear. Streak grabbed his sword and jumped to his feet, ready to assist Vell. The beetle moved faster, though, and its wings started vibrating. Vell let out a scream and tumbled to the side, making jerky attempts to move, like a puppet with half its strings cut. The beetle pounced, ready to sever her stem, but this time Streak was faster. He leaped forward, intercepting the beetle mid jump, one hand forcing the spear in deeper, the other bringing his sword down on the beasts head. The vibrations stopped and both the beetle and Streak rolled to a stop. Streak jumped up and ran over to Vell, who was still contorting on the ground. He was almost immediately joined by Kalban. "Blindfold her," he ordered.

"Nice of you to help out," said Streak peevishly.

"You might not realize it, but that whole fight took about five seconds. We got to the ground as fast as we could, but you'd already taken care of the beast. Bind her hands and plug her ears," Kalban ordered one of the unassigned. "Her sense can't be confused if she has no use of them. Hopefully we reacted fast enough to save her." With the bindings complete, Kalban lifted Vell over his shoulder. "Let's get going," he said.

So what did you think? Let me know. Also, I'd like you guys to read the first overhauled chapter of Land of the Wraith King, the link to which is in my profile. Leave a review about it, even if it has to be anonymous. I'd like opinions about whether or not to continue my revision of that story. Thanks.

Sayonara,

Diabowserker