Author’s note: This story was created primarily by rolling randomized results from a prompt sheet. Images will be added later due delays with image generation.
Roland Duval tracked the thieves through the jungle until he found them resting in a clearing. They’d stolen something dangerous, though they clearly had no idea what it was. Careless. Overconfident. Easy.
Roland cloaked himself in shadow, slipped into their camp, and lifted the artifact from their gear. He was gone before the watchman even blinked.
Back at his hoverbike, he finally inspected the weapon. It felt wrong. Unfinished, unbalanced. His scanner confirmed it: the thing was a copy, a makeshift attempt at something more powerful. Roland clenched his jaw. He should’ve checked the whole camp. Now he had to go back.
The thieves were still unconscious when he returned, surrounded by scavenged metal and resin. A trail of bootprints led him deeper into the forest, toward a clearing glowing with quiet machinery. Primitive automatons, and a few other “thieves” worked in a trance-like rhythm around a single object: the real weapon.
This was more than simple thievery. This was organized.
There would be time for answers later. He had to get the blade first.
Before dawn, Roland veiled himself again, found a perch with a direct vantage point, and fired a grappler bolt into the blade. It clattered free, loud enough to wake the dead. Machines froze. A few creatures at work looked up in confusion, then fury.
Roland sprinted as he reeled the weapon in.
A winged, half-mechanical, giant insectoid burst from the factory and tore after him. It ripped up boulders and foliage as it promised to tear him apart.
Roland loaded and fired a bolt at the huge bug. It missed, but exploded against the trunk of the tree next to the beast. The pheromones from the specialized bolt burst out into a cloud.
The beast shrieked and thrashed. It turned on its owners who squealed and ran.
Roland didn’t look back. He vaulted onto his hoverbike and sped to safety.
Aboard his ship, he set the weapon on the table. It lay quiet.
Then, faintly, it hummed.