Hey people, this is Diabowserker, here with another chapter (Although I hope you already knew that.) Anyway, special thanks to ludlowboy for reviewing and telling me to get on with writing this. I own all the colors not in pikmin 1 or 2, along with every character.

The ground in front of them exploded, sending Heath and Ielta stumbling wildly as they struggled to stay on their feet. Heath jammed his spear into the ground ahead of him, supporting himself and grabbing Ielta by the hand, keeping her from falling. A trio of the strange tan pikmin rose from the shattered ground, carrying battle picks, and attacked them. Heath blocked one with his spear, ducked and dodged out of the way and then struck one of them a glancing with his spear, allowing Ielta to brain him with her club. The pimin fell to the ground, obviously dead, but did not disintegrate the way pikmin were supposed to upon death, instead just laying there and leaking chlorophyll. Heath and Ielta fell into a combat pattern, spinning sideways and in every other direction. Heath used his longer reach to occupy the tans while Ielta did her best to smash them when they got too close. Both of the tans had just fallen when five more emerged from the hole. Ielta struck one in the leg and hurled him into the other four, and she and Heath sprinted on, struggling to stay ahead. The tans quickly went back into the hole, and Heath pushed Ielta to one side and jumped, both of them narrowly avoiding another hole that opened in the face of the plateau. They sprinted on through the night, struggling to stay ahead of their pursuers. Three times they were caught, and three times they fought their way free. Heath estimated that they were now being pursued by nearly twenty, and he doubted they would be able to hold off another attack. The last one had caught them both unawares, and Heath was now trying to staunch the flow of chlorophyll from a wound in his side. Ielta was also worse for wear, covered in countless minor injuries. As if in reaction to his thoughts, Ielta lost her footing and tripped, crashing to the ground. Heath skidded to a stop to help her up, just as another hole blasted open in front of them. Tans swarmed out as Ielta jumped to her feet. Heath exchanged a look with his friend, and the two of them nodded, knowing that they would die here and now. Just as they prepared to attack, a blood curdling roar issued from somewhere off to the left. The tans only had time to look before they were engulfed by the Coalheart Legion and obliterated. Heath could only stare as Runm jogged over to them.

"What are you still doing here?" the red yelled at them. "Run! We'll hold them back. Get to the mesa, sound the alarm. Warn my people!" Runm turned away from them and yelled, "Coalheart Legion, to me! Let's teach these dirt bleached savages to fear our names!"

Heath and Ielta exchanged helpless glances, then Ielta put a hand on Heath's shoulder and nodded. They turned and set off at a steady jog in the direction of Mesa Nero. They ate up the ground quickly, relatively speaking. They jogged long and hard, exchanging few words so as to conserve strength. Heath's mind began to wander ahead of them, back at Mesa Nero, to his Onion. If he could only reach it, then all his wounds would be healed, and he could deliver this news. And then… Then he'd have a chance to avenge Kinsbur, and hopefully route these savages. One thing at a time, Heath, he told himself. There were countless pikmin more accomplished than he, both at fighting, tracking, trapping, and warfare in general. But he would get his vengeance. That had been Taran's promise when he'd been sent back to warn the others. Heath was so lost in thought that he almost tripped when Ielta skidded to a stop, terror evident in her face.

"They're here," she whispered, pointing. Heath followed her finger confused. She was pointing at the Mesa Nero, a large jut of rock about half a mile in the distance. They still had a bit of jogging left to reach there, so why were they stopping? Then Heath began to make out the tan figures rising from the ground two hundred yards in front of them. Heath shot a few glances behind and to the sides, and felt a sinking feeling in his gut. They were completely surrounded.

Far away to the west, across countless miles of land and sea, Camarus Clawbel rose from his pile of skins and began his morning exercises. He completed one hundred push-ups, one hundred and fifty crunches, did eighty chin-ups on the bone frame of his tent door, and then began the complex series of calisthenics he'd been taught at birth. He twisted his mud-colored body about to a ninety degree angle with the roof, pressed his stem against the ground, and forced himself into the air. He folded his hands together, allowing his bronze claws to extend and retract with his breathing. He closed his eyes and embraced the strenuous excercises. All the while, with his eyes closed, Camarus thought to himself, Pain is good. Pain keeps you whole. Embrace your own pain, as a substitute for the pain of others. I have the strength to hold my instincts in check. I am a dedicate of the Clawbels and a Devotee of The Koda Kiln. I pledge my life to Talmin Raisa Clawbel and I promise to live my life free of the destruction and violence of the Clawmin. When his meditation was complete, Camarus walked over to the bone basin at the back of his tent, stretching his lithe body, and reached up to the ornate fanged piece hanging over it. He pricked each of his fingers once and each foot once, allowing the chlorophyll to drain into the basin. The smell of it reached his nostrils, and Camarus closed his eyes, struggling against the wave of passion and hunger that swept over him, the urge to go berserk, to utterly surrender to his animal drive. But he fought the emotion with all his strength, finally suppressing it, leaving himself panting hard. But now the chlorophyll was just that, exuding a slight odor of pine needles, the pain simply pain, and he knew he was in control. He'd been doing this every day for nearly ten years, but there were still days when his animal drive caught him off guard. He ran his fingers over the bone piece hanging over the basin, feeling its skull shaped contours, until he found the small catch that opened the skull mouth. Water flowed into the basin, rinsing away the dark green liquid left over. Camarus closed the skull and rinsed the bowl, then poured the water out and watched the cracked, thirsty ground in his tent drink it in. Within seconds, no sign remained that the ground had ever seen water or ever would again. Camarus walked over to the wooden rack next to his door and began his preparations for the day. He took a blax-hide belt from the rack and cinched it on. He then removed his dartbow from the rack, inserted a dozen white-fletched darts into the loading mechanism, and hung the weapon on his belt. He inspected the claws on his hands and feet, making sure that none were snagged or cracked, before doing the same to his two retractable fangs. Satisfied that all was in working order, Camarus pulled open the canvas flap and stepped out into the scorching sun, ready to begin the day's work.

Ielta hefted her club, fighting down the fear that threatened to swallow her. She looked at Heath for assurance, only to find her friend on his hands and knees, probing the ground with the head of his spear.

"What are you doing?" Ielta screamed at him, and even to her, the note of hysteria in her voice was clearly noticeable. 'We're about to die, and you're on your hands and knees?"

"Use your head," Heath snapped, sounding very different from the unconfident carrier she knew. "Didn't you wonder why they didn't just burrow up around us? We're standing on blackrock!"

Ielta shook her head, awed despite the situation. No wonder the tans were keeping their distance. Blackrock was highly volatile and used to make bomb-rocks. If you struck it wrong, it blew apart, and violently. Bomb-rocks were made using small pieces of blackrock, which reacted with green's chlorophyll, making it sensitive to pressure instead of strike force. Greens were the only ones who could safely use blackrock or bomb-rocks, since they alone had the opportunity to experiment without getting killed. Little details like this patch had completely escaped Ielta's notice. What was that saying? When the going gets tough, the tough get going? Heath was certainly going. Ielta knew full well she needed to get going also if she was going to survive this. Unfortunately, now that the tans had surfaced, the blackrock wouldn't stop them from covering the two hundred yards to reach them, and they were outnumbered twenty to one, at least. Unless…

"You can't blow up this whole patch, Heath," Ielta said, praying he would listen. "You have no idea how deep this patch goes. If you blow it out, they might die, but we'll probably be crushed under tons of rock, and then there will be no one to warn the rest of the pikmin."

Heath jammed his spear into the rock, sinking it halfway in, and Ielta's breath caught. But Heath only smiled as he pried out a chunk twice his size. He said, in a remarkably calm voice, "Bomb-rocks are pressure sensitive, but we greens can only make ones that are smaller than we are, because after that the bombs own weight sets it off instantly. When our friends," he jerked a finger over his shoulder at the approaching tans, "Get close enough, I'll rub one of the wounds they were so kind enough to inflict against the rock. The blast should kill most, if not all of them, and then we should be able to reach the Mesa."

"But won't the blast set off the rock beneath us," Ielta wondered, "I'm willing to die if I have to, but if it can be avoided, that would be great also."

Heath smiled and said, "We'll find out soon enough." The tans were now within blasting range. Ielta took a firm hold on her club and Heath pressed his sided wound against the chunk of rock. For a moment, the rock glowed white, then a blinding flash illuminated the night. Ielta felt the explosive force wash over her, and for a moment she felt as if she could grow wings and fly, climb any mountain, defeat any foe, but then the blast rolled past her, and the moment passed. She felt something shatter near her hands and she was knocked onto her back. Then the blast ended, and she struggled to her feet, not even slightly blinded from the blast. The blackrock hadn't gone off in a chain reaction, and the ground was splattered with the chlorophyll of tans. No wait, there were still ten tans, although four of them were badly burned. Heath was already in position to engage them, his scandium spear none the worse for wear. Ielta, however, could find no sign of her wooden club. That must've been what shattered, she thought dully. So now Ielta had to enter a weapons fight with her fists and stem. Plus they were outnumbered. Not the best odds, but definitely better than they'd been before. Normally, Ielta might be scared to death, but she'd brushed with death so many times tonight that it had ceased to make an impression. She'd die or she wouldn't. Either way, she'd fight with Heath right up to the end, whatever that end may be.

Atop the highest watchtower of Mesa Nero, Deton looked out on the night, wondering why he was up here. He was off duty, he wasn't equipped to do anything from up here, and he wasn't authorized to be up here any time of day, let alone night. And yet… He couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to be up here. Absentmindedly fingering his long knife, Deton wondered how Heath was getting on. I wonder if he's off carrier duty yet. Deton snorted. His brood-brother needed to learn to think. They were exactly the same age, but Heath still acted like a trainee, while Deton had been aged by the events around him. When they were younger, they'd shared everything. But Heath hadn't been able to share his grief and pain. He'd tried, but no one really could. But Deton had learned his lesson; Don't get attached, and you don't get hurt. Deton was only a second year soldier, but he was already a lieutenant and in position to become a captain. Deton put everything into his work, and he had no time for the chatter and friendships and infatuations of his comrades. Besides, when he gave himself completely over to his work, there were times when he could forget what had happened. Deton was jolted out of his thoughts by a flash some half-mile out from the Mesa. All the way up here, it would have to be a good sized blast to appear. This was why he'd come up here. His instinct had always been good, and Deton was sure that what he'd just seen was important. Now he needed to find out why, and if his gut was right, he needed to do it fast. Without pausing to think about it, Deton dove off the tower, falling towards the ground, several thousand feet below. When he was about thirty feet up, Deton pulled a mini bomb from a pouch on his belt and held it below his head. A second later he hit the ground, the bomb hitting a moment before. The blast allayed much of his momentum and Deton rolled, coming up without a scratch. He sprinted out towards where he'd seen the blast, realizing quickly that his haste had been justified. Heath stood a ways from him, carrying a scandium spear. That was a little odd, since Heath's spear was bromine, but now wasn't the time to worry about little details. Heath was working with another green, who was apparently weaponless. They struggled to hold off seven pikmin, although they didn't resemble any pikmin Deton had seen or heard of. Both Heath and the other green were bleeding profusely, and as Deton approached, he watched Heath toss the spear to his ally and smash the tan with his stem before ducking a blow from a battle pick. They won't last long enough for me to reach them, Deton realized grimly. With a quick flick of his wrist, he freed his scandium throwing knife and hurled it at the tan Heath was fighting. It struck him in the back, and the tan faltered. Heath smashed him in the head and the tan fell to join three other bodies on the ground. Deton detachedly wondered why the bodies hadn't vaporized as he covered the last few yards and drew his long knife. The other green- Ielta, Deton remembered- tossed Heath his spear as she ducked a blow. Deton jumped to her aid, knife flashing as he gutted the tan with a single flick. It only took a few moments before all the remaining tans lay dead. Deton was breathing hard, covered in the gore of his foes, struggling to hold back memories of that day two years ago… He pulled himself together as Heath caught Ielta, who was now barely conscious, just before she fell to the ground. Both she and Heath were soaked with their own chlorophyll.

Deton said, "Sorry about the welcoming committee, brother. You looked like you could use some help, what with ten on two and only one weapon between the two of you. Let's get you to the Onion, before Ielta dies from blood loss." Deton picked up Ielta and threw her over his shoulder.

"I have important news. It can't wait," Heath said in an exhausted voice.

"It can wait, Heath, until the two of you have been healed," Deton said. I won't let you suffer my pain, not when you're supposed to be safe.

Well what do you think? We added two more characters this chapter, along with a new pikmin types, although, as you'll eventually learn, the mud-colored pikmin are more connected to the "tans" than the other types you've learned about. You can expect six more colors over the course of this story. Also, I'm going on vacation for the duration of spring break, so don't expect any more updates for a while. In the meantime, I'd like it if you guys could take a look at Darkling Tide, although I haven't really started the action in it yet. Don't forget to review!

Sayonara,

Diabowserker