"Scoop" Yurik, staff writer
The quiet night-cycle air of Sump's Drift was rudely disturbed by gunfire as two local gangs met up in the ruins of an old algae-processing plant at the edge of town. Earlier that evening on my way to the Last Stop Inn, I was accosted by "Ol' Prospector" Gus Chiggins, a well-known drinking enthusiast, who had this to say:
"Hey there, mister newsman, there - I seen sommat you might'a wanna seen! Them gangers is havin' themselves a tussle an' I only juss' got out after they shot my bottl'a'Wildsnake clean outta my 'and! They're goin' plain crazy at each other! C'mon, c'mon! Yer' gon' miss the whol' thing!"
Indeed. It seemed that Mr. Chiggins had scarcely avoided becoming collateral damage in the savage skirmish, and this reporter had little choice but to follow the source's weaving footsteps back to the fracas.
At the plant, the fighting was indeed just as fierce as described, and the air was criss-crossed with fire from all manner of weapons. Though the field was liberally covered in gun-smoke, two distinct parties could be made out, and while their militaristic, violet-clad opponents remain unidentified, this reporter conclusively witnessed the brethren of the Nex Manus Imperator enacting their "holy war."
While most events of the skirmish were difficult to perceive from a safe distance, the fighting was prolonged, brutal, and decidedly loud. In the end, red-swathed forms emerged from the haze, an eerie chant of victory issuing from the Cawdor gang as this reporter made his way back to civilization. While their opponents were unquestionably tenacious, Nex Manus Imperator has certainly forged a dangerous reputation for themselves.