A tale from one HamsterIV:
I had a dream, more of a nightmare, where I was late for an important commitment. I wanted to take a shortcut that looked suspiciously like the Canyon map. As I approached the canyon entrance I get this premonition of danger, as if something terrifying and evil was lurking around the next bend. In spite of my tardiness I linger for a moment. I know Zill waits for me in the skies ahead. I know his gunners don't miss, I know his engineers will allow him to shrug off damage that would kill a lesser crew, and worst of all I know his tactical placement will be perfect.
Eventually my fear of being late overwhelms my fear of Zill and his Merry Men. I push forward cautiously, my eyes searching for every ambush point, fixating every hint of the sharks I know lurk in this canyon. In spite of my diligence the first warning I get is the crack of cannonade smacking my balloon. Zill is on me, his guns tearing my ship to pieces. I try an wheel around to put up some sort of defense but Zill just dances to my blind side. I hit chute vent and throw my engines into full reverse, trying desperately to pass under Zill's guns and give my beleaguered engineers a break. My maneuver is for nothing, Zill is still on my blind spot, still shooting, and laughing at my feeble attempt to break contact. I feel like a bull in the final minutes of a bull fight. I lash out blindly trying to at least scratch my tormentors but every move I make is met by a masterfully executed counter. I feel my life blood leaking away but still thrash about violently hoping upon hope that one of these movements will catch Zill off guard.
I tell my self Zill is only human, he has to have a weakness, he has to mess up some time. This is a lie of course, Zill is a remorseless killing machine. Like a shark he is the apex predator of the medium in which he swims. He can smell weakness a mile away and has studied his prey to the point he knows how they will react before they do.
Death eventually embraces me and I am hovering over my shattered ship, Zill idly swims through the debris cloud, a casual flick of his tail swats aside a piece of wreckage. I look closer at this "wreckage" and realize it is one of my crew. His cold dead eyes stare into me as if he is asking "why did you lead us here?" and to that I have no answer.
