Our Story

Let's start from the beginning.

Sustainable energy was discovered and spread throughout the globe. Humanity prospered and world peace was made a fragile possibility. Land to ocean expansion became a reality with heavy machinery known as Mechs. In order to accommodate the rapid rise in population, many new island nations were created known as the Open Ocean Campaign. 

Unbeknownst to humanity, sustainable energy came at a hidden cost. As generations were exposed to this energy, children began to develop abilities that could not be explained by science. Magic, for a lack of a better term, was what people called these new abilities. At first it seemed that these gifts would randomly appear in children. However as time passed, families would create lineage magic that would be passed down from parents to children. Humanity was not ready for this rapid change and tensions rose between those who could use magic and those who could not. Some said this was unholy, others said it was a gift from God. Factions quickly formed and the fragile veil of world peace began to tear. Some nations sanctioned magic and its users to strict rules. Other nations let them flourish and live free. 

While the rest of the world prospered, a small organization that was festering saw this as a prime opportunity to strike. This organization went by countless names, but they sold their services to the highest bidder or anyone with a high enough counteroffer. The most common name for this organization was Penumbra Sheath. Without hesitation or discrimination, they would sabotage, destroy and kill anything or anyone. 

This all changed when the head of the Open Ocean Campaign grew concerned with Magical users who bought island nations and created kingdoms based on Magical prowess. Many flocked to these island nations known as The Augury Isles. Magical users were promised fair treatment and the ability to freely use magic for personal gain. The head of the Open Ocean Campaign saw this as an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. He could kill a majority of the world’s Magical users and retake the islands so that he could profit from them twice. Penumbra Sheath was hired to cut the roots out before they could grow into an unstoppable force. This was the beginning of the Erased War. 

Unfortunately for most Magical users their powers were budding and could not compete with modern technology and weapons. Penumbra Sheath slaughtered thousands within the first day. The attack was a complete surprise and the Augury Isles were captured without suspicion. Some islands fought hard to protect themselves, but ultimately were met with steel and blood. Distress calls would be left unanswered as all communication with the outside world was suppressed by Penumbra Sheath. They even fed false stories to the media regarding the events that took place. The world was told one big lie. They were told that Magical Users turned on each other, causing mass genocide. After committing their atrocities the strongest Magical users left earth and traveled to far lands to prosper or atone for their sins. 

The lie caused the reminder of Magical users to be shunned across all nations. Fearing that the winners of the Erased War would one day return, the remaining nations banded together. Any remaining Magical users either hid their talents or were treated poorly out of prejudice. The veil of world peace was sewn with the threads of deceit and patched with blood soaked rags…


A few short years later off the coast of Neo Mecha Japan a new tourist attraction was being tested. Japan had expanded to twice its original size through the use of land to ocean expansion. Countless Mechs were used in the expansion process, but once the project was completed the Mechs were retired. A Japanese entertainment company thought it would be a great idea to buy the Mechs and recreate Mecha vs Kaiju battles for entertainment. Thus the first Mech battles were born. Brave Mech Samurai would battle against Beasts right off the coast of Neo Mecha Japan. These battles would bring in countless spectators and quickly became a worldwide phenomenon. 

A mobile arena known as the Mechadoma was created so that Mech Battles and world championships could be brought to anywhere in the world. Becoming a professional Mech pilot was a dream for many. Multiple leagues were created as everyone longed to compete at the highest level. If they could climb the ranks and make a name for themselves, Mech Pilots could become overnight sensations. It is in this sport that the sins of the past have caught up with the present. Bloodlines will collide, battles will be fought and friendships forged.

  Welcome to Fortune Fodder


Blindsided

Whining and whirling bullets flew overhead. Blindside counted the shots as they failed to hit their target. Behind the safehouse of a nearby concrete structure he slammed a fresh magazine into his rifle. Five more rounds bounced off the concrete and ricocheted into the darkness. He whispered, “That’s twenty.” Knowing his enemy was out of metal, Blindside drew his rifle and fired. The first shot was a tracer round which soared, breaking the darkness. It burned through like a phoenix fighting the dark tendrils of the night. 
For the first time Blindside could see his enemy. A figure wearing all black as to camouflage and be one with the moonless night. His opponent wore a monopiece helmet glittered with red sensors. The figure leaped into a nearby corridor, barely dodging the fire. The tracer missed, but gave all the information Blindside needed. Reaching for his visor radio he ordered, “Omega fire on my next tracer.”  Blindside reached for his sidearm, but he felt a cold glove grasp his arm. Shocked, he wondered how his enemy could flank him when he was surrounded by concrete. 
The next immediate thought was sheer pain. A knife plunged deep into his right arm. Hot blood met cold serrated steel in a tidal wave of pain. Instinctually Blindside kicked at his opponent, gaining the precious space and time he needed. His dominant arm now rendered useless by the assassin's attack. He ponders if he is facing multiple enemies, but knows something isn’t right. He reaches for his sidearm again knowing it’s loaded with a fresh mag of tracer rounds. He shoots towards the direction of his attacker. The loud boom of the 45acp rings like a baritone's bellow. 
The phoenix flew into the inky darkness. Blindside couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The room was empty. Blindside hears a familiar voice over his radio. “This is Omega firing on marked position,” his comrade proclaimed. Blindside had to work quickly; he dashed out of the once thought safety of his concrete cover. The whistling sound of a napalm missile struck the building and illuminated the night. The construct was obliterated and rubble flew in all directions. With the new light source Blindside scans for his opponent. He could see, like an ethereal wraith, the masked opponent walking through a chain linked fence as if it wasn’t there. Blindside raises his 1911 and squeezes the trigger. Another tracer round, this time matching the illumination of the nearby napalm. Struck in the back, the ghost fell to its knees. Blindside, now dialed in, releases three more rounds that ring in the night. It was finally over, the demon was dead. He slowly walks towards the fence that separated him from his now dead enemy. Unable to inspect the body himself, he sat down slowly, bleeding, while waiting for backup. One mystery solved, but a thousand more to unmask.

The Old Ways Come Naturally

“DAngER, DaNGer, DAnger,'' the old Mech’s sensor system bellowed in revolt. A slight hissing could be heard, but was drowned out by the ringing in his ears. Natural, not used to being broadsided by an H.VAMP,  quickly tried to regain control. The Mech roared in retort and slowly equilibrated. Natural cried, “I can’t lose, my whole school is watching!” This was his first real match on the Mechadoma and he was unlucky enough to be facing off against the other new arrival to the pro scene. 
Ghastal, a figure cloaked in mystery, was piloting the Kraking. Steam oozed from the Kraking’s thermal cannon. The normally stationary mech slithered under Ghastal’s control. The shout casters screamed as Ghastal phased through a nearby wall. “We’ve never seen a Mech move like that!” they proclaimed. The crowd gasped at the revelation. Natural only had a few precious moments before Ghastal could fire again. Thinking quickly he remembered his training. He listened softly, trying to drown out all his senses. He could start to connect with the primal origins of his Mech. 
The Old Ways is a Mech that has lived a thousand lives and won a thousand battles. The Old Ways design symbolically mimicked the mighty bear. He could feel the energy of all the other pilots that came before him. In that moment, his body moved out of pure instinct. The Mech at first lumbered thru and then once the momentum built it was unstoppable. Like a force of nature he stormed through the recently charred field like a bolt of lightning, the crushing movements boomed like thunder. 
Natural knew that this was his only shot. Natural’s intuition and ability to push himself and his Mechs to the absolute limit is what earned him his place in the pro scene. He could feel his muscles firing at 100%. The pain was excruciating as he could feel the controls fighting against him. He remembered his teacher's words echoing through his mind, “Pain is temporary, but victory is forever!”                                                                                                                                                                                                  
The old Mech leaped into the air above the wall Ghastal was hiding behind. Natural raised the Sky Splitter Axe and with the fury of a thousand battles crashed down on Ghastal. The axe buried into Kraking. Shocked, Natural noticed something was terribly wrong. Ghastal purposely moved not to avoid the attack, but instead to take the hit to the pilot bay! Instinct took over and the second axe fell before he could stop himself. Both axes found their resting place in the center of Kraking. The audience grew uneasy and quiet. 
The shout casters' voices cut through the silence like a knife, “Natural wins due to ‘Pilot Knock Out!’” Stunned by the fear of death, his victory was short-lived. Natural stuttered, “Did…did I kill him?” A sigh of relief flew over the Mechadoma as Ghastal appeared on top of Kraking. With an icy look, Ghastal began to clap for Natural’s victory. Natural, confused, wondered how Ghastal pulled off this parlor trick. A dark thought crept into Natural’s mind, “Did Ghastal let me win?” It was at this moment that Natural felt like a small piece in a big puzzle. 



Broken Glass

“We rule these streets!” The victory chant proudly rang into the dimly lit alleyway. Blood freshly painted the walls ruby red. An aluminum bat gently brushed against the pavement as Vandalin admired his work. He leaned on the weapon resting and recounting the event that just transpired. “Tank, those guys really were pushovers.” Vandalin proclaimed to his stout ally. Tank gruffed, “Those were the ants, I can’t wait till I get to crush the roaches.” He knocked his knuckle dusters together. “YOU HEAR THAT! SEND ME MORE BUGS TO SMASH!” his voice echoed into the darkness. 
Vandalin snickers, “Tank, I think they got the message already.” Vandalin knocks the metal bat against the floor a few times, “I don’t think those guys will try to knock on the Broken Glass’ door for a long time.” The Broken Glass’ neon sign hummed softly in stark comparison to the recently dismantled armored door. “Explosives are a bit high tech for those simpletons on the east side, huh?” Vandalin inquired. Tank laughed, “Yah, that last guy almost booked himself a one way ticket to the afterlife. Anyway I’m hungry, let's grab some grub.”
A pitch-black fog slowly began to creep through the alleyway. Vandalin immediately jumped to action, “TANK! LOOK SHARP!” Tank turned towards the darkness, the neon sign started to buzz and flicker uncontrollably. Red eyes peered towards the young men. Tank taunted, “Are you the roach I’ve been waiting for?”
Emerging from the darkness was a tall and slender man. His hair was black like a raven’s feathers. His eye color matched the now coagulating blood that stained the wall. Tank ran towards the villain, knuckle duster raised and primed for a crash course. The shrouded man raised a hand towards Tank and, like a living being, the mist began to surround him in response. Tank’s momentum carried him past the man and pushed him further into the darkness. Vandalin shouted, “TANK!”                                                                                                                                                                         
The dark man spoke softly, “Now that we are alone, allow me to introduce myself.” Without hesitation, Vandalin threw his metal bat towards the red eyed intruder. The shadowy figure turned to dodge the attack. This opening allowed Vandalin to reach for his secret weapon. Vandalin, now cocky, raised his silver revolver towards the effigy. “Go on mist boy what's your name and who sent you?” Vandalin interrogated. “My name is Ghastal and I came of my own accord to try and speak with you,” the mist man said in a soothing voice. Vandalin laughed, “If you wanted my autograph you could have just sent me a poster, misty boy”. 
Ghastal approached Vandalin, the mist swelled and turned in wake of his movements. Vandalin, in retort, proclaimed, “One more step and you’re dead.” Ghastal briefly stopped mid stride, “Vandalin, I want to show you something.” As Ghastal uttered those words he continued to approach. Vandalin squeezed the trigger, his revolver barked in response to the hammer falling. The bullet caused waves to ripple as the mist dispersed around it. With deadly accuracy it struck Ghastal in the forehead. Blood and mist spewed from the wound as he fell backwards into the mist. 
Vandalin sighed and started to wonder where Tank went. The mist lingered and from it two red eyes peered towards Vandalin. “We should team up Vandalin, I have access to powers that might interest you,” Ghastal said in an ethereal voice. “I’ll see you in the Mechadoma, Vandalin. Consider our first match together a preview of our future partnership.” His last words were almost a whisper.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 Ghastal vanished deep within the mist. The mist rolled away slowly to reveal an unconscious Tank lying against the wall. Vandalin suddenly remembered hearing that a new mysterious Pilot was joining the professional league soon. He laughed quietly to himself as he walked into the darkness passing through the Broken Glass’ now dismantled door.