I'm back, and you probably want story instead of a lengthy author's note, blathering on about this that and the other. So here it is, and I hope you all enjoy it!
They'll be coming any minute now." Drakken said, casting a glance at one of the two hatches leading to the cargo hold. "You two ready to do this thing?"
"Yes sir." Daraay answered. "Our preparations will level the odds for us, and I believe we can handle the ones who make it through them easily."
"Do you?" Tharcourt returned. Daraay smirked behind her black helmet.
"I do, commander. I have confidence in your capacities that goes lightyears beyond the loyalty they trained me to have. Their chances at success are slim to nil, sir. And slim just left orbit." Drakken gave a small laugh at the Death Trooper's remark. He'd rubbed off on her more than he'd thought, Drakken mused.
"You good, sweetheart?" He asked Freya. Thorne had been staring out into nothingness as if deep in thought. She smoothed back a strand of unruly red hair from her face and gave him a small smile.
"'A course I'm good, darlin'." She said softly. "I was just rememberin' those training droids we used tae beat up on." Drakken laughed, understanding her train of thought completely.
"Yeah, we've always had a habit of going back-to-back against all odds, haven't we?" He returned.
"And winning." She added. "Dunnae ye ferget that."
"No." He agreed. "Hm. Too bad you don't have a good song or story for this situation, eh?" He added in a jest. Freya didn't laugh.
"Aye. I may just." She stated. "Havenae brought it out in a long year. Think I ought tae?"
"Why not?" Drakken shrugged. "Now's as good a time as any." He stepped back and shot a glance at the other hatch. No sign of the enemy yet, but it was only a matter of time before the sound of the mines announced their arrival. He jolted when a sharp, metallic ring echoed through the space. Freya rhythmically tapped her staff against the floor, periodically punctuating the beat with a chime of the weapon against the metal deck. Then, she began to sing;
"I hear the caaaaall…of beating drums
My feet do fall…to war I run" Her staff rang against the floor.
From fields of miiiiiist…to battle's fire
To the fields I've missed…and duty higher" Another chime.
"My heart does siiiiing...With shield and spear
What morning brings…I hae no feeeaaaar." Clang.
To the fire I run…from out my core
I hear the call…." The staff rang out, echoing in the cargo hold. "…Of Mother War"
Drakken was frozen with awe. Not only at the haunting and almost magical tone of Freya's beautiful singing voice, but at the song itself. It was no doubt an ancient battle-hymn of her people, and she intoned the lyrics, he felt the words, like some deep stirring in the depths of his soul. It felt as though ice water coursed through his veins, and he brushed his fingertips along the grips of his blasters, as if they were true companions in the fight about to ensue. Drakken closed his eyes. He understood Freya's attachment to her metal staff. They were. Clang
"Through dark of night…I hear the caaaall
Let heart take flight…let ashes fall." Ring
Let storm-clouds break…and fire burn
May mountain shake…and seas upturn." Ring
It guides my sword, my soul does soar…"
I hear the caaall…" Freya opened her eyes and looked straight ahead. "…of Mother War." A final ring of her weapon resounded through the hold. Tharcourt found himself breathing heavily, and he closed his eyes for a moment to help shed the indescribable feeling that had taken hold of him. He glanced over to see Daraay standing stock-straight, her blaster clutched tightly against her chest. He looked back to Freya as the young woman held a fist to her heart and her eyes were cast upwards.
"Mother War, be with us." She said a simple but poignant prayer. Drakken had never believed in any diety or higher power, but he felt compelled to participate in the ritual to a goddess he truly felt he could attune to. He placed his right fist over his chest.
"Mother War, be with us." He stated. Daraay shifted on her feet, then lowered her MWC-35c in her left hand, and held her right over her chestplate and nodded reverently. Freya hadn't expected this reaction from the man she loved, and shot him a questioning glance. Drakken was preparing to answer, when the thud of a distant explosion was heard and the hold shuddered a little. Drakken drew his blasters.
"Alright…" He declared. "Let's go."
Ripper, the former rebel fighter, had been shielded from most of the blast and shrapnel when the mine exploded, shredding his two companions and sending a shard of metal tearing into his thigh. Another had glanced off of his red and yellow vapor mask and cut into the rubber, exposing the pale skin beneath. With a wrathful growl, the man tore the chunk of durasteel from his leg and hopped to his feet. Through his fractured mind and the drug-induced fog, he rationalized that the Imperials had set this trap. The nightmarish ghouls had made an explosion and tried to kill him, killed his friends, as the bent and twisted demons were wont to do. He pulled his massive knife and looked about for an Imp to slaughter.
"Oi! Got a fork t' go with that pigsticker, do ya?" A feminine voice called. Ripper spun about in time to have a metal stick impact the side of his head. The blow seemed to addle him for only a moment. Thorne spun her staff about, and as the masked man lunged with his blade, she sidestepped and drilled her opponent in the head with the tip of the weapon, followed by a strike to his knee, and another to his face, shattering the lenses on his gas mask. He stumbled back a few steps, and regained his composure.
He stared at the woman for a moment, and in his mind's eye, he saw a terrible, monstrous creature with fire for hair, wielding a flaming rod. He wasn't afraid of this visage though. He had killed over a dozen Imperial monsters, and eaten the hearts of four of the strongest. Imbued with their power and promised by his all-powerful lord Captain Decoja that he could kill every Imperial that stood against him, Ripper let fly a loud battle-cry, and threw himself at the Imperial demoness. Freya swung out again, taken aback that the man was still standing after receiving so much damage. Her blow was so hard that the staff rang out, and the masked rebel was hurled into the wall of the corridor. Pretty certain that she had to have cracked his skull open with the last swing, she heaved a frustrated sigh when he stepped back and glowered at her with bloodshot eyes.
"Och, fer pity's sake, jes die already." She droned, drew her RK-3 and shot the man between the eyes.
Another group of two Crazies sprinted down the hall, followed a few meters behind by a pack of four of their brethren. The two, the ones who had lost one of their number killing the group of security officers earlier, were spoiling for vengeance as they rounded a bend. At the end of the hall, an Imperial officer was standing, his arms folded behind him with an air of superiority. The Crazies let out a howl of hateful recognition, and charged toward him with their melee weapons ready to rip the Imp apart. The leader of the duo snagged his steel-capped boot on a trip wire, and the two men were vaporized by the blast.
The second group continued charging forward, but stopped abruptly when the leader of their pack halted, his arms outspread to stop the group from advancing. Just in front of him, a few inches off the deck was another tripwire. They all looked down at the trap, then back up at the Imp standing six meters away. The pack leader started laughing, a hoarse, gravelly sound, and the others began laughing as well. The pack leader, a man wearing a leather vest and a metal mask over his mouth, stepped over the wire and walked toward the officer, who hadn't so much as moved the entire time.
"I would stop right there if I were you, big guy." Drakken stated. The group paused for a moment, confused that the Imp wasn't fighting or running like all the others had. The leader took another step closer, when suddenly a huge black form appeared behind the officer from out a hatchway. Tharcourt tensed up as a torrent of red bolts streaked past him, inches away from his head and body, laying waste to the band of marauders nearby. The last one to go down fell backwards, falling onto the trip wire, and the man's body, along with a portion of the opposite wall were blown to pieces. Tharcourt blinked, and turned to Daraay.
"The void, sarn't…" He commented dryly, then wiped at the side of his head. "About took my ear off didn't you?" She lowered her weapon.
"I was not anywhere close, commander." Daraay returned smugly. Drakken chuckled and held out a fist. The Death Trooper lightly punched it, and they moved on to find the rest of the crazed bandits.
The last group of three Crazies burst through a door leading from the crew ladder. They looked both directions down the corridor, and the trio went left, toward the bow. The leader of the pack, a tall man in a blaster-burned helmet named Scree, periodically urged them forward with a double-bladed dagger. They passed through a half-opened hatch and halted. Halfway down the new corridor stood a woman. Barefoot, and wearing a black tank top and short grey skirt, red hair draped down to the back of her knees in a qeue, she held a metal staff like it were a walking stick.
"Och…oh noooo…" She said, overtly mocking distress. "What am I t' do? Please doon'a hurt me." The trio of Crazies hooted and catcalled. "Ye wouldnae hurt a wee frightened lass now, would ye?" She said in a pleading tone. The three men began to walk towards her, and Freya grinned. "Course ye would." She stated. "So come an' get it….and…" She blew a raspberry and held up two fingers in a vulgar gesture, then turned and ran down the hall.
Thorne leapt over the tripwire, pitched forward and rolled head-over-heels before springing easily back to her feet. She spun about to see her pursuers still approaching, and she started backpedaling down the hallway. The three men hit the tripwire at almost the same time, and they were hurled into the opposite wall by the antipersonnel mine hidden in the ventilation duct. She stepped closer in time to hear one of them cough, and see him untangle himself from the bodies of his comrades and shakily get to his feet. Freya's eyes widened for a moment.
"Kriffin Hell…" She remarked. "You lot are a hardy bunch, ain't ye?" Scree hacked, and spit out a gob of blood.
Kill the Imperials…bleed the beast…live forever…" He growled, blood running down onto his face from the shrapnel wounds to his head. "Bleed…the beast!" He let out a yell and charged at Freya. She used her staff to trap the man, then get him off-balance, finally throwing him to the deck. Scree landed on his back, but immediately flipped back onto his feet. Thorne delivered a powerful strike to his face, his solar plexus then his throat, and as the deranged fighter doubled over, she spun her staff vertically, and caught him in the face, sending him flying onto his back again. Freya looked down on him.
"Ye done yet, mate?" She asked coldly. Scree howled in rage, and started to clamor to his feet. He staggered back and locked onto the Imperial witch in time to see a blaster pistol aimed at his head. He let out a primal hiss, and Freya pulled the trigger. The last of the Black-Space Crazies slumped unceremoniously to the deck. Freya sighed and holstered her blaster. "Lots a' spirit, but no skill, ye poor bastart." She said to the dead foe. She pulled her commlink.
"Drakken, I think I got th' last o' em in this hall." She stated.
"Same here." He returned. "Rendevouz with me and Daraay in the hold."
"Will do." She answered. "I'll be there in…" Freya dropped the commlink as something heavy leaped onto her back. She felt sharp claws digging into her stomach and her shoulder, and was immediately reminded of the fierce, red-eyed dogs back home.
"You killt my babies! You killet my babies!" A shrill voice screeched.
"Freya? Freya, come in!" Drakken voice called over the net. Thorne reached back and found a handful of tangled hair. With a quick forward heave, she threw her assailant off, and was surprised to see that it was a thin woman with a mass of black hair even wilder than her own, and wearing a rough fur tunic. The woman bared her teeth, which reminded Freya even more of some wild beast, and then leapt at her. Thorne barely dodged the nimble woman's attack, and Ju'Tai found herself being thrown against the wall. She recovered quickly and turned back to the red-hared Imperial.
"You dirty, rotten Imper'l bitch!" The woman said in a thick Wildspace drawl. "First, you kill my children…now you've killed my babies!" She gestured to the three dead Crazies on the deck nearby, then pulled a pair of knives from under her pelt. "I'm gonna skin you alive!" Freya twirled her staff and assumed a combat stance.
"I ne'er killed anybody's little ones." She hissed. "And those babies of yers were wild-eyed killers, ye slag." Ju-Tai screamed, and spun at Thorne, slicing the air with the blades. Freya found herself barely able to keep up with the ferocious woman's attacks. She finally parried one of the wild woman's arms aside, then swept her legs from under her. Thorne stepped back. "Ye off yer heid, lady?" Ju'Tai climbed to her feet, still holding one knife.
"Y'all ain't near so tough when youse alone, are ya?" She asked bitterly. "When you ain't got an army of stormtroopers backin' you up, killin' old folks and kiddies. Naw, you just got your little stick and a few fancy moves…" Ju-Tai switched the knife from hand to hand. "But I got this, and I'm gonna carve you up, little lady." She thrust out at Freya, then turned the attack into a slice toward the younger woman's arm. Thorne barely dodged, and escaped with only a nick on her forearm. Ju-tai lunged again, and Freya jumped back and sent her staff out in a horizontal arc, catching the black-haired woman in the side of the head. Ju'Tai yelped and fell to the floor.
"I told ye, I ne'er killed anyone's kids!" Thorn screamed. "You're the ones attacking a ship full a' innocents, you hypocritical witch!" Jutai got to her feet again.
"Eye fer an eye, little girl." The raider lieutenant growled. "Y'all took what I had, now I take your life. Fair's fair, ain't it?" Ju'tai rolled under Freya's defense and grabbed her in a violent hug, throwing the taller woman to the ground. She raised her knife, and Thorne blocked her attacker's wrist with her own forearm. Now, her staff was useless, laying over Ju'Tai's back as she lay pinned on the ground, straining to keep the fierce woman from plunging her knife into her chest. She felt the sharpened nails of the woman's left hand dig into her flesh on her right side, at the base of her breast, and let go of her staff completely, grasping the woman's left wrist.
"That's it, that's it, honey…" Ju'tai cooed. She dug her talons deeper into Freya's chest, and Thorne squeaked in pain, watching the tip of the blade get close and closer. "Shhh…shhh. Just you be still, and it'll all be over soon…" Freya's legs thrashed as she tried to get free from the woman, her mind racing. How was she so strong? The tip of the blade pressed into the skin on Thorne's chest.
"Nae…nae…no…" Freya panted. "Stop…stop…" Ju-Tai grinned triumphantly. A blaster went off, and the wild-haired raider woman's eyes rolled back, and she fell to the right, toppling off of Thorne. Freya lay back and panted a few moments.
"Freya?!" Drakken called, running up. "Sweetie…the void, are you okay?" He dropped down beside her and helped her up to sitting. She threw her arms around Drakken.
"I thought I was gone…" She gasped. "She had me, she did. Oh bloody Hell that was too close." She blew out a breath. "I'm fine, darlin'. No worries." He helped her up, and she bent over and picked up her staff.
"Damn…" Drakken commented, looking down on the lifeless form of the raider woman. "…I'm surprised that was able to get the drop on you." Thorne sighed.
"Nae. I think she lost her family, Drakken." She said sadly. "Blamed me for killin' her kids…I think the Empire killed everyone she had an'…she just went mad." Tharcourt frowned and looked down on the body again.
"Person's got nothing left to lose like that…" He muttered. "Come on, let's get back to the hold." They turned and started the short trek back to the cargo bay. They were nearing the corner leading to the hatch, when they heard a noise behind them. The two of them looked back to see a small group of men in full battle-rattle, one of them shouldering a long tube. Drakken grabbed Freya's shoulders. "Rocket!" He bellowed and threw Freya around the corner, shoved her to the floor, and dove on top of her as a deafening explosion shredded the angle of the corridor and sent a cloud of flame rushing over their heads. As soon as the fireball cleared, they were on their feet and running for the hatch.
"They're comin', they're comin'!" Thorne shouted to Daraay as they rushed into the cargo hold. Drakken slid to the deck, and hastily connected a trip wire to a device by the doorway. At the other hatch, Sergeant Daraay peered out, then swung her massive blaster around the frame of the hatch and unloaded a long burst.
"They are already here, ma'am!" Daraay returned, firing down the corridor. She pivoted out of the way as a barrage of green and red energy bolts came streaking through the hatch. Drakken looked up out of his own hatchway, drew both of his blasters, and sent a dozen rounds at the approaching foes as he rolled clear of the opening. He leapt up and hit the button to close the heavy doors, and backed into the hold.
"Who the kriff are these guys?" Drakken asked no one in particular. "I was wrong, Meeka…maybe they do have a commando unit. One point for you." Daraay was still alternating firing and ducking enemy rounds from the starboard hatch.
"I…take no pleasure from such things, sir." She stated, drew a thermal detonator, armed it, and threw it down the hall. There was an explosion that jarred the cargo hold, and she closed the hatch. The Death Trooper settled for blasting the controls over taking the time to lock the door, then turned to Tharcourt. "Another inconvenience, commander?"
"Maybe not." Drakken said. "Help me get the containers hitched up. It'll take them a minute to get through those doors." He motioned to the hatch behind him. "And when they get through, we gotta be ready."
On the raider ship, Captain Decoja was beginning to realize that he'd bitten off more than he could chew. He had not only lost his vanguard of sleeper agents, but every war party sent into the ship, and now he had lost contact with Ju'Tai as well. He tried again to raise her on her communicator, but the lieutenant did not answer. None of the Crazies had reboarded their shuttle either, and Decoja was starting to feel the slightest bit unsure of this operation. He gave the communications panel a light rap with his fist in anger, and slumped back into his chair. The panel pinged, and he quickly pressed the green button below the holoscreen. Instead of the wild-haired Ju'Tai, he saw an image of the Imperial officer that had become such a thorn in his side.
"Greetings, Captain." The officer said warmly. "I regret to inform you that your contingent of sharp-dressed men won't be coming home for dinner. Oh, and that woman with the hair and the crazy teeth? She's gonna be running a little late too."
"Ju'Tai…" Decoja growled. "You bastard…you bastard!"
"Eh. I figured if you kept sending people in here to die, we'd eventually scrub somebody important to you." Tharcourt shrugged indifferently. "I was going to give you one last chance to leave in one piece, but since that harpy put a couple of scratches on my lieutenant, I decided to just kill you."
"Oh…you think you have it all figured, do you?!" The captain exclaimed. "I'll have those containers in a few short minutes, and your kriffing head's gonna be skewered on the bow of my ship!"
"They're sitting in the hold waiting, if you got the sand, captain." The commander stated. "Just make sure you send somebody that can fight us toe-to-toe next time."
"Oh…ohohoho…you can count on that, Imp." Decoja snarled. He shut off the holocall and pressed a button on the panel. "Clash…hey Clash!"
"A little busy, old man." Clash growled back. "They got two of my men…but we got them now. Gone to ground, they have."
"Clash, get my cargo and get the Hell out of there." Decoja ordered.
"And what you think I'm doin', datty?" Clash replied sarcastically. "Three's all that's left, and we got 'em pinned in the cargo hold. Five minutes, and you'll have your prize, Decoja."
"Watch it, Clash…" The captain advised. "They're better than you think."
"It's a Death Trooper, that officer and a little girl." Clash said. "They have nice big blasters, but we got more of them. Now shut up and let me work, captain."
"Just get me my containers." Decoja said. The call was abruptly ended, and Decoja pressed another button. "Bring the shuttle in and get ready to grab the crates, Slick."
"Aye aye, captain." The shuttle pilot answered. Decoja watched as the small cargo ship came in and hovered just off of the starboard main cargo bay hatch. Decoja reached over and released his own ship from the passenger liner, and fired up the docking thrusters enough to push the customized frigate of war a kilometer off from the massive vessel. Then as the ship was slowing, he swung it around so that he was facing The Princess Latania. He spun his command chair to the left and dialed some commands into the weapons terminal. Having locked the bridge-controlled weapons systems onto the liner, he flipped a switch on the console.
"Attention gunners." He stated. "Man the turrets and target the starliner. On my command, I want that ship erased from the galaxy." He flipped the switch off and leaned back in his chair, bringing a knee to his chest as he stared at the liner before him.
"They are almost through, Commander." Daraay advised. Drakken was sitting on the edge of the open cockpit of the small, high-performance ship in the bay, lightly kicking his feet. He threw a half-smoked cigarra to the deck, and drew his commlimk.
"Delta-7 Actual to all…listen up. We're going. Repeat, execute. Curtain call five minutes, Out." He clipped the device back onto his belt as Freya clamored upon the small ship. He leaned in and kissed her on the lips. She smiled.
"Still nervous?" Thorne asked.
"No…" He sighed. "If five parties, including us, do exactly what I hope at exactly the time I hope they do it…give or take a minute or so, and nobody on our side dies, it'll go off without a hitch." He gave her a thin-lipped smile. "I was already worried. Why should I go and worry again?" Freya giggled.
"Dunnae worry Drakken." She replied. "I got a good feeling about this." She hopped down, and he saw her disappear into the rows of containers in the hold. He glanced over at Daraay.
"Sergeant…" He began. "You have an awful habit of getting rooted in and annihilating the enemy. Not this time. Soon as their first wave is down, get to your spot. I'm not leaving without you." She looked up at him and nodded.
"Yessir." She stated. He turned his attention back to the starboard hatch, where an arc of fire had completed its course, cutting down the center seam of the durasteel door. He hopped down out of the cockpit and drew his blasters.
Up on C Deck, Glitch was plugged into the escape pod control module with one of his spindly arms. The knuckle at the end of his appendage rotated one way, then the other in the socket. The panel beeped, and the computer screen began to read out information. Beside him, Lago and Ekks looked on. The hybrid droid made a few noises, and worked at the control terminal some more.
"You sure you can do this, Glitch?" Lago asked nervously. "I mean there's an awful lot of enemy ships out there and…"
"Whurr-nurr-mr-nurrnurr-murr!" The droid shot back.
"Okay, okay…" Ekks said defensively. "It's just that the old man is countin' on you…and so are we." Glitch waved one of his free arms, spoke more binary, then gave a salute. He went back to linking up with the control system for the escape pods. There was an electronic ping, and Glitch made a laughing sound, his vocabulator making it sound as distorted and wicked as he probably wanted it to.
In the hold, the hatch was pried open, and two men wearing a mixture of old clone armor and durateel entered the cargo bay, their heavy blaster rifles shouldered and scanning the room. One of them hit the tripwire, and the immediate area around the hatch became a roiling ball of liquid fire as the large container of liquid fuel mixed with polystyrene was ignited and dispersed by the incendiary grenade Daraay had rigged up. Drakken raised his arms to shield himself from the intense heat from the fire, which soon settled into a wall of flaming fuel. The fire suppression system kicked on, dumping a fine mist of water down onto the conflagration. The hold was almost immediately filled with thick steam as the next two men entered through the fog.
The hatch on Drakken's side of the bay was breached, and two men entered from this side, the two heavily armored men getting almost instantly blown back out into the hall by the two thermal detonators placed against a shipping container, and covered with metal fragments. He emptied both of his blaster pistols through the hatch, guaranteeing that even if he hadn't hit anyone on the other side, they were probably now recalculating the number of hostiles inside. For good measure, he took the last thermal detonator the trio had, activated it, and chucked it through the open hatch.
"Grenade!" A cry went up from somewhere outside, and a moment later, it exploded.
The two men who rushed into the steam and dying wall of fire punctuated their arrival with a burst of blaster fire aimed at the crates in front of them. Determined to shred the Imperials who had somehow made fools of the best fighters in Decoja's fleet, they lit up the durasteel containers and the wall beyond, and as they ceased fire, small glowing holes peppered the boxes in their vicinity. They heard Tharcourt's fire to their left, and spun that way. Before they could fire, a form appeared on top of one of the shipping containers, and with the speed and silence of a lothcat stalking a mouse, Freya dove from the high ground and swung out with her staff.
The weapon rang as it connected with one of the mens' helmets. He stumbled back, and Thorne parried the second man's blaster with her staff and the visor of his own helmet was shattered by the metal polearm. The first received a jab to his unprotected side, cracking two ribs, and she followed up by spinning quickly and bringing the staff against the second man's knee. Her bare feet slipped in the melted sludge on the deck, and Freya landed on her back as her foes shook off her attack.
"You have guts, little sister." The first armored man growled as he took aim with his blaster. From behind him, a loud report sounded, and the man was violently propelled over Freya, landing in a broken heap on the deck, having experienced Daraay's MWC-35c on it's full-power setting. The second man turned to face the new threat, and Thorne hopped to her feet and with a sweep, took the man to the ground. She twirled the staff, and brought the tip down between his eyes. There was a wet cracking sound, and she withdrew the weapon and cast the gore from it with a flourish.
"Thanks fer the save, Meeka." She panted. Daraay lowered her blaster.
"I am the only one who gets to call you little sister, ma'am." The Death Trooper stated in reply. "We should get to the ship." The two of them jogged to the small vessel and climbed aboard as Drakken hit a large red button on the wall, then met them, hoisting himself into the cockpit from the other side. They dropped into the small, cramped cabin of the luxury ship, and Tharcourt quickly closed the canopy as the large loading hatch on the far wall of the cargo bay began to open.
What a wild ride this is turning out to be! Tharcourt's plan is set into motion. Any of you have the faintest idea what he's doing? If you think you do, leave your guesses in the reviews. Freya's song at the beginning of the chapter is something I wrote for her, and I think it's a fitting battle hymn for her people, and for her, as she is named after the "Mother War" of her people's beliefs. Clash, the gunslinging leader of the Dogs of War is loosely based on The Bullet Farmer from Fury Road, complete with an Aussie accent. Now, I want you to read all of his lines with a thick, growling Australian intonation, and see how intimidating that man really is.
I'll have another chapter up soon, probably tomorrow evening, so fav, hit the notification icon and drop me some comments. I know you're out there, and I love it when when people throw roses onto the stage. Sometimes I settle for tomatoes. Until the next chapter my loyal readers, I bid you a fond Cheerio! -Drake