Awooest Mawr @mawr@awoo.space

"If you require further refreshment," it squeaks and rumbles as you stand there dripping, "there is an ice cream wyrm in the pavilion due south of here, beside the lake."

You find that you are actually shivering in the shade. You pause for a moment, wondering if the ice cream wyrm would give you a cone or spew cold dairy treat all over you, before nodding respectful thanks and hurrying away about your business.

It turns to look at you, the motion of its head squeaking comically. "Do you need to cool down?" it asks, in a voice of rushing water and more of that rubberized squeaking.

"Yes, please," you say, almost panting.

The dragon opens its maw wide, and you have a moment of misgiving before a multicolored spray of little spheres, each as big as your fist, hurtles towards you. Caught completely by surprise, you flinch slightly as the balloons burst, splashing you with refreshing, cool water.

The water balloon dragon sits quietly in the shade of a single tree, watching people toil past in the grueling sunshine with an air of detached nobility, only slightly marred by the constant dribbling of condensation around its feet. Shallow puddles of water underneath it have attracted several small birds, who are splashing happily.

You approach the majestic figure, drawn by waves of cool air it radiates into the baking heat of the day, and pause in the shadow of the tree to catch your breath.

The Terra-ists were winning.

Wave after wave of their clumsy, improvised starships burned across the galaxy, spreading fear and chaos in the name of their backward, blue-green planet.

They bled viral DNA bases from ancient nightmares, and breathed burning, corrosive _oxygen_.

Their society was brutal: financialised industrial capitalism.

There was only one answer. The free races of the galaxy were forced to combine to save themselves.

But could they build the singularity gun in time?

the animal chain of command goes dogge, catte, ratte. R-A-T-T-E