User:Spriggs077/Ideas

Fic with Luc
As the War Economy powered on in the Borealis Galaxy, extragalactic interests began to take a foothold. Two such powers, the Fordan Empire and the Zazane Brood of War, shared a common goal of wanting to protect their own interests, while also bringing an end to Falrik Zaarkhun, and retrieving the crystal shard he had stolen. Unfortunately, Falrik was a hard man to find. Many of the companies that supplied weapons and materiel to the various PMC's in the galaxy had ties to Zaarkhun, but even these companies proved elusive to all but the most dedicated search.

On the world Veldun, a newly formed PMC had set up a base of operations. The so-called 'Nova Reavers,' trying to buy into the fame of the legendary Andromedan Pirate King, Admiral Kaios, had recently ordered multiple shipments of arms and armour. Various types of coilgun, as well as tailored suits of carbon-weave enhanced alloy armour had recently arrived, and the merchants were still haggling over the exact final price. It was a perfect opportunity to both remove a new PMC before it got started (Kaios' associates would likely have seen to it sooner or later anyway), and to abduct the merchants selling the weapons, in the hope they could provide a link back to companies that supported Falrik.

Veldun was close to Fordan territory, near enough to the sector's Void Relay to make a local phase-in possible. From there, the ships would only be scant hours away from destination. Hopefully, this would be enough time to arrive and complete their mission long before the defences could hope to be fully ready. That was the plan, at least.

Due to the constraints of the mission, the Zazane found themselves quartered on a Fordan personnel carrier. While it was sleek and efficient like most Fordan ships, it was large, bulky and poorly manoeuvrable. All the same, the ship arrived in short order, and was only detected when it was already making approach to orbit. As the vessel began to enter low orbit, several Bladewing fighters launched out to protect it from enemy fighters. In the command nucleus, the two team leaders discussed their plans.

Ri'Var - The compound is well fortified, however the guards have recently changed equipment and will be unskilled in their use of it. Furthermore, their armour is geared towards low-level conflicts with less developed cultures. Shidium and thermic weaponry will have little trouble penetrating it. Pyotr - So, who are we after? The mission brief was, well, pretty brief.  Ri'Var' tapped on the screen a few times, bringing up a bio of the target. Ri'Var - Iindren Kael. Arms dealer, black merchant, et cetera. One we have him secured, we will return him to the nearest Fordan colony for interrogation. Pyotr - You say that like you think it will be easy. Mercs or not, they're still professional soldiers. And they have one thing we don't: a fortress. Ri'Var - Nonetheless, this mission must succeed. My Kin are ready to lay down their lives. Pyotr - Huh, would have thought you'd be charging in and slaughtering everyone before they raised their weapons, like usual. And why would a Fordanta want to be killed by some nameless merc anyway? Ri'Var - 'Want' is the wrong word, but any Warrior can think of no better end than to die in service to the Empire. Pyotr - Right. So how are we getting into the facility anyway? Teleporter I assume, or that fancy 'Voidspace phase' thing you do. Ri'Var - Correct. The ship's local Relay will phase us down to just outside the compound. From there, our teams will split up. Once my Hunters have the guards pinned, it should not be difficult to find the merchant and retrieve him. Pyotr - A Fordanta giving the glory to someone else? That's new. Ri'Var - Silence. I did not ask for your presence here, nor do I need it. We have a mission to accomplish. Pyotr - All right. I'll get the soldiers ready. How many mercs are we expecting, and how are they armed?

'' Ri'Var brought up more holo panels, and uploaded all the information they had available so far. ''

Ri'Var - At least three hundred and fifty mercenaries on foot, as well as approximately fifty light vehicles. They are believed to have armour support, due to the recent purchase, but I doubt they will be ready for use. Pyotr - Outnumbered more than seven to one, then? Are you sure forty of us is enough? Time is essential, and we can't afford to wait around killing them all off. Ri'Var - We are superior physiologically, tactically, and technologically. Furthermore, this is not a battle; we are not expected to defeat every enemy in the fortress. Indeed, it is entirely possible, and preferable, to complete our objective without killing anyone. Pyotr - Ok, I see your point. What about these walls then? Ri'Var - Ten metres high, standard ferrocrete construction. If we must, they can easily be destroyed by well-placed charges, or low-level orbital fire if necessary. Pyotr - Right. Any advice for when the shyrak hits the fan? Ri'Var - Aside from ensuring that more of it strikes your opponents than yourselves, the buildings are pre-fabricated, and therefore rely on a small number of key structural columns. Timed explosives could easily bring down whole wings of the base. Just be sure our target is not inside one when you decide to detonate. Pyotr - No problem there. So where are you going to be set up? Ri'Var - The ridgeline to the south-east. It will provide decent fire arcs across much of the courtyard, however there are significant blind spots. Pyotr - Very well. Can't have everything I suppose. Oh, and what's this thing? '' Pyotr held up a small orb, roughly the size and shape of an earth mango fruit. '' Ri'Var - That is a Voidspace beacon. Once you confirm that you have the target, a type-2 Voidspace phase will initiate. Pyotr - Type 2? There's more than one? Ri'Var - The kind you are used to, a shimmering doorway of energy. Pyotr - Ok, that covers everything. My men should be ready by now.

Dusk had just begun to settle in as the warriors made their entry. A small pinpoint of emerald light winked into existence beyond visual range of the fortress. This pinpoint expanded quickly, to open a doorway from the ship's Void Relay onto the world. A trio of Fordanta dashed out, weapons primed. Thermal sensors sought out anything in range, and finding nothing of interest, the Hunters moved on. The rest of the Kin-group, as well as the Zazane warriors, moved out quickly, fanning out to search the surrounding jungle. Finding no waiting enemies or traps, Ri'Var signalled to the Fordanta on the ship. Two Craftsmen brought a crate through the portal, and retreated. The Voidspace portal closed, and night fell.

Full darkness set in, and the moonless night covered the warriors' silent advance. The Hunters moved quickly, setting up on the ridge line with little fuss. Beneath them, the Zazane made their own moves. They were hauling the crate behind them, moving into position to launch their attack. As they neared the base of the wall, they unsealed the case. Inside was a long, tubular weapon the Craftsmen had told them was an ISF-manufactured thermal cannon. Its purpose was to weaken the iron components of the perimeter wall, leaving it vulnerable to low-level explosives. Hefting the weapon up onto one shoulder, a Zazane warrior took aim at the base of one of the guard towers. The weapon crackled to life, and an invisible surge of thermal energy washed over the base of the tower. Within, the iron framework melted and bubbled, weakening the internal structure of the tower. One guard noticed the heat surge, and stepped outside to cool off, putting it down to stuffy conditions.

The silent night was split by the thump-BOOM of a man-portable grenade launcher round detonating against the base of the tower. The explosive charge shattered the stressed concrete, and the tower creaked as its weight shifted balance. Crumbling under its own weight, it smashed into the courtyard of the fortress, spreading debris far across the parade ground. The mercenaries barely had time to recover before the Zazane were in the compound.

Across the valley, long barrels sought out targets in the gloom. A faint green bead settled on the back of a mercenary captain trying to co-ordinate a response. With a flash, and a whisper of air forced out of the way, and an inch and a half thick bullet ripped in between the merc's shoulders, tearing a chunk out of the wall behind him. Other rifles spat their own slugs into snipers, vehicles and leaders, shattering the mercs' morale.

In the courtyard, the Zazanes' lightning charge had dissolved into a bloody melee, with blade, mace and shidium fire decimating the defenders. At first, the battle went well; even surrounded and outnumbered 10 to 1, the mercs were simply no match for the alien warriors. Heavy weapons squads marched out, gatling coilguns and missile launchers loaded. Sniper fire picked off a few, the rest met their end on Zazane blades. A group of mercenary sharpshooters took up positions out of the sight lines of the Hunters on the ridge, and started squeezing off shots at the Zazane. Several warriors were hit, the bullets finding weaknesses in the neck and legs. Pyotr turned to charge this new threat, when the darkness behind the sharpshooters rippled.

Without warning, thermic blades flashed to life. A punch dagger shot off from a gauntlet launcher, embedding itself in the lead sniper. From the merc's choked-out screams, it was obvious that secondary blades had sprung out, plunging deep into his lungs. The cord to which the blade was attached was yanked back, tearing out the sniper's back. All of this happened in about half a second, and by the time the blade had returned to its gauntlet the other sharpshooters had fallen prey to a flurry of attacks from the five Hunters that had outflanked them.

The mercenaries were broken and retreating, with fully a hundred of their number lying dead. Several of the Zazane were forced to fall back, having sustained mobility-impairing injuries. Time was of the essence, and the group could not afford to be slowed. Sixteen Zazane and the five Hunters blasted down the motor pool door, and made their way into the facility. The fifteen on the ridge covered the wounded Zazanes' retreat, then slipped off into the night themselves.

Inside the facility, the battle became much more pitched. As the Zazane swept into the main corridors, attacking head on, the Fordanta outflanked. Unleashing their fury on the defenders, the alien warriors charged full-tilt at the mercenary gun lines, all but ignoring the heavy fire they drew. Shidium fire rained down on the mercenary lines, and when the Zazane finally closed with the defensive lines at the end of each corridor, heavy maces crushed skulls and shattered ribs while jagged blades tore deep into the defenders' flesh. Taking advantage of their natural mobility, the Hunters snuck through crawlspaces, hanging from catwalks and clambering up hangar walls. Mercenary teams, already hard-pressed to resist the Zazane charge, found their allies suddenly disappearing from the radio net. Teams sent out to locate the missing parties found bodies hacked apart and charred. Even less fortunate, teams sent to reinforce the mainline parties were lucky if they found mercenaries struggling to hold back the Zazane. More often, they found shredded and scorched corpses, their bodies torn apart by blade and the heat from shidium fire.

The rate of attrition began to take its toll on the Zazane. The last of the mercenary foot soldiers were cut down within thirty minutes of the initial breech, but the Zazane were becoming weary, and more bore wounds from the battle. The Fordanta too found their share of trouble. The mercenaries' new gauss weapons were not so hard to master as predicted, and two of the Hunters were forced to retreat after taking serious wounds from the high-calibre weaponry. Pyotr and Ri'Var were left with few options: their men needed to retreat, but the merchant had not yet been found. No vehicles had left the area, and deep scans had shown nothing to indicate hidden tunnels out. They decided to set off on their own.

Heroic Sci-Fi
Sprinting down the narrower halls of the fortress, Ri'Var got wind of a report from his Hunters, who had relocated to surround the perimeter. A small landing pad had just projected itself from the wall, revealing a small hangar. A well-placed shot from a long rifle had managed to disable the ship inside, but only temporarily. A return hail of sniper and mortar fire forced the Hunter to relocate, but he was still able to keep eyes on the pad.

Ri'Var relayed the information to Pyotr, and they doubled their sprint. An Elite patrol had the misfortune to run into the two veteran warriors in a vehicle corridor. Pyotr howled a war cry and charged forward, juking side to side to avoid fire. Ri'Var sprinted up the wall, his claws and magnetic boots holding him firm. Jumping off, the Hunter sent thermic knives flickering into exposed flesh and armour joints, before his trademark gauntlet blade flashed out, catching the leader in the midsection. Grasping a service catwalk, Ri'Var yanked the cable hard, tearing the blade up through the mercenary's chest cavity, gutting him in front of his horrified comrades. It was enough of a distraction for Pyotr to make it to melee range.

Whirling into motion, the Zazane warrior brought the mace around in a wide arc, catching the first mercenary clean in the head. The cheap helmet buckled and split under the ferocious blow, lifting him off his feet and into the man next to him. A corporal brought his weapon around to fire, but Pyotr was already on him. This time, the mace swept up from below, right to left, catching the merc's leg and flicking him into the air. The weighted head came back down, smashing the unlucky mercenary into the ground, shattering his ribcage. Two Elites decided to meet the Zazane in close range, but they never reached him.

Slamming into the ground with a resounding thud, Ri'Var whirled a bastard sword into an aggressive stance. Both mercenaries charged, each carrying a broadsword that looked more for show than use. Moving like water, the Hunter parried both rushed swings, dodged a third, and struck back. The thermic blade lashed out in a streak of fire, curling up underneath the mercenary's breastplate and digging into a lung. Smoke billowed out of his mouth and nostrils as his organs burned. Ri'Var brought the blade out clean, crouched low to dodge another clumsy swing, and rammed the blade point-first just above the remaining Elite's groin guard. The impressive two-metre blade jutted fully half its length out the mercenary's back, and the high heat blackened the alien's flesh until it fell away into ash. The warriors shared a moment, silently commending the other on their respective skill and savagery. The moment, passed, and they ran on.

Outside the compound, the Hunters were suppressing activity on the landing pad, taking down repair drones and supply movements, buying the two warriors time. The Zazane who were still able to fight had launched a new assault on the fortress, forcing the mercenaries to direct some of their forces to counter them.

Sprinting down a narrow corridor, the two warriors found themselves only a few hundred metres away from the hidden hangar, their way blocked by a shut blast door. As the pair turned to find a new way around, a squad of mercenary gunners cut off their exit. Ri'Var turned to find a way through the door, while Pyotr charged the gunners. These mercenaries still carried their older gunpowder weapons, the lower calibre rounds glancing off Pyotr's armour. Mace in one hand, dagger in the other, the Zazane ignored the bullets thudding into his armour as he let his rage take hold.

Smashing his mace up underneath one of the mercenary's machine guns, he brought the knife down backhanded, sliding the serrated tip deep into the alien's ribcage. Ripping the knife free, he sent a hard kick into one mercenary's stomach, forcing him to bend over double. Pyotr brought his mace down savagely on the merc's neck, the audible crack of bone shattering rolling down the hall. The remaining four mercenaries surrounded Pyotr, hoping to bring him down with a sustained volley of fire.

Ri'Var kept working through the screams, and the odd stray bullet that sparked off his deflector field. A minute of fruitless tapping on the keypad left him annoyed, but only a little. The Hunter spent a few moments studying the door, tracing its components in his mind. Pyotr had just called out to warn the Fordan of additional enemies coming in when Ri'Var brought out his sword again. Driving the blade hard into the wall console, the wave of thermal energy melting and shorting out the wires. With a hiss, the hydraulics locking the door disengaged, and the door shuddered slightly ajar. The mercenary reinforcements arrived, and Ri'Var shouted out to Pyotr to buy him some more time.

The first mercenary of this new group fell to a dagger across the throat, the second was caught under the chin by a mace sweep. A flurry of attacks and a headbutt finished the next three, and their fellows broke and ran. Ri'Var grabbed one of the door halves, sliding his claws around the edge to gain a better grip. Putting all the might in his formidable body into the effort, he slowly forced the door open. As the crack widened, he braced his left arm on the other door half, and pushed out. With a harsh, guttural roar, the old Fordan shoved the doors back into their frames, damaging the mechanisms in the process. The doors stuck in place, with barely enough room to move through.

Immediately Ri'Var drew a swarm of fire, as entrenched mercenaries on the other side drew a bead on the Hunter. Quickly rolling to the side, he triggered the launcher on his right gauntlet. Instead of a punch dagger, this gauntlet carried a dart launcher, each one usually tipped with a powerful tranquilliser for covert missions. This time, the barbed darts carried a potent paralytic. Whirling around the corner, the Hunter methodically fired a barb into the necks of each of the four guards firing on him. They gagged, coughed, and fell over paralysed. Before long, their throat wounds would drown their lungs in their own blood. Ri'Var turned to pull Pyotr through the door, then plunged his sword back into the door mechanisms. The twisted metal melted, and the blast door slammed shut.

The Hunters warned Ri'Var that the ship would be ready to leave again soon, and Pyotr's own men had been pinned down by armoured support and could not provide a further distraction. Still, the pair was only one door away from their target, and this was just a simple service door, relatively unarmoured. A few strong kicks buckled the door, and a hard swing from Pyotr's mace knocked it clean off its hinges. Beyond, a half-dozen mercenaries primed their weapons, and a few drones were repurposed to attack the intruders. The merchant scurried aboard the ship and tried to fire its engines, but they were still not fully repaired.

Grasping his sword with both hands, Ri'Var challenged one of the mercenaries, the leader by the look of him, to single combat. Pyotr, on the other hand, locked eyes with the squad between him and his target. The alien warriors shouted battle cries and curses, and Ri'Var spun into a whirlwind of death.

A sword in one hand, dagger in the other, the mercenary leader was hard-pressed to hold back the Hunter's lightning strokes, and could barely turn the sheer force behind the blows. Even unpowered, Ri'Var's sword was a deadly instrument, and it flowed like quicksilver around the mercenary's every attempt at defence. When the blade struck, it lashed out quickly and surely, the fine edge catching in weaknesses and openings in the alien's armour. It was clear to all that the Hunter was toying with his prey. Finally tiring of the game, Ri'Var whirled the blade around, severing both the mercenary's hands. Flipping as he leapt, the Hunter brought the blade over his head, and as their faces drew close, slammed the blade hard into his opponent. The force behind the blow righted Ri'Var's flight, and he landed in a controlled crouch, blade ready for the next opponent. The mercenary was thrown against the wall, his body split in half from the ferocious attack.

Pyotr opened his assault with a brutal mace blow, cracking the helmet of his target. The knife flashed across the mercenary's throat, spraying the ground red. Moving on, a knee to the stomach bent the next mercenary over. Lifting his head up with the mace, Pyotr slammed him with a devastating headbutt, cracking the skull and spine. For the third, he swung the mace around in a wide arc, smashing it clean into the mercenary's right shoulder, shattering the bone and leaving the merc whelping in pain. The jagged dagger flashed again, digging deep into the mercenary's skull. Twisting, the weighted mace head launched the fourth mercenary into the ship's engine, an explosion of bSlood and coughs of black smoke heralding his demise. The dagger blade was too deeply buried in the target to retrieve, and the last mercenary fired off a close-range shotgun blast that knocked the mace from his other hand. For a moment, Pyotr was painfully aware of how exposed his face was, but the moment passed as two jagged blades exploded from the mercenary's chest. The shrieking alien dangled off the ground for a moment as the blades lifted, before Pyotr tore him off and slammed him hard into the ground, the sickening crunch of bone mercifully cutting off his screams. Pyotr would never admit the off chance that the Fordanta had just saved his life, but it did not matter to either of them.

Stalking onto the ship, Ri'Var hauled out the merchant, and signalled for the Void portal to open. The captive's eyes opened wide as the rift between dimensions opened, and then he was thrown through into the waiting arms of the Brood interrogation team. The two warriors walked through side-by-side, their job done at last. Neither was truly happy to see the other go, but they both knew that there would be other battles, and other chances to take the fight to the enemy.

Nearly passed out twice writing this, not my fault if it's bad
The Zazane lay in waiting, ranks upon ranks of seasoned warriors manning the defense lines of the ill-fated bastion complex. The Grox were expected to arrive at any moment, and when they did, there would be blood. This world sat clear in the path of the main Grox invasion, and this was one of the worlds considered to be defensible enough to be worth holding. The Zazane had been assured that reinforcements would come, and that their navy would keep the Grox from bringing orbital munitions to bear. Still, the atmosphere was grim as night fell on the soon-to-be battlefield. The land had been burned clear of all life, to give the defenders long sight-lines and to create a no man’s land crisscrossed by interlacing firing arcs. Mountains rose up in the distance, where sensor vanes had been planted to provide the Zazane commander with as much information as possible. Long range artillery had pounded any natural cover into oblivion, leaving the valley pock-marked with still smoking craters. The land was as barren and desolate as the warriors who stood within the fortress; every fibre of their being was given to the battle, to the kill, and to death.

None of the warriors assembled there expected to live to see another sunrise, but none of them considered retreating for even a second. Even as the tell-tale signs of Grox teleporters flashed on the horizon, they stood ready, drawing beads on the approaching battlesuits. The first shells screamed overhead, plowing into the enemy ranks. The relentless machines paid their losses no heed, and fired back with their own long-range weaponry. Unwilling to sit back and let his warriors be torn apart by artillery fire, the Zazane commander ordered an advance. As one, the Zazane rose up and charged over their defense lines, firing withering salvoes of shidium as they swept towards the enemy lines. If the machines paid no heed to their losses out of cold callousness, the Zazane paid no heed out of sheer blinding fury. Even as brilliant sparks of light pierced reality ahead of the Zazane charge, and as the Grox machines rained fire on them, the Zazane still covered ground, still fired their weapons, and still howled to the night sky, baying for blood. At first, it seemed that the Grox would be repulsed by this attack. Their lines were thrown into disarray by this spirited onslaught, and in places looked set to crumble. The pinpoint sparks grew into incandescent rings, casting an onlooker’s sight into a world of storm-wracked skies and a great marble city. From these rings, dashes of white and black roared out, the blurs of colour racing ahead to the front line.

The two armies clashed, one mechanical, cold, and precise; the other fiery, passionate, and possessed by an insatiable need to destroy. For these aliens, today offered only death, destruction, and misery. They found in their ken only the way of war, and they brought a great and terrible facet of war to the battlesuits that dared enter into the melee. At the head of this force, however, had come the great streaks of white and black, the few glimpses of stillness that could be snatched by those who looked on proved the blurs to be Fordanta, the Voidborn. They carried all manner of melee tool, from blade, axe and hammer to halberd, glaive and long spear. Empowered shields turned aside the Grox’ fire, while thermic weapons rent and tore at their armour. It was the Zazane, however, that truly proved their worth that day. Supported and emboldened by the arrival of the Fordanta, the Zazane unleashed wave after wave of fire in closed ranks, pouring shidium into the Grox lines like Hercules’ rivers cut loose. The machines were forged with technologies ancient and powerful, but the fury of the Zazane assault left their enemies broken and bloody, and driven before them in rout.

So great was the Zazane counter that a colossal armoured walker crested the hill. This vehicle was designed for planetary siege, not infantry clearing, but it would suffice. Its great weapons tore apart clumps of warriors, rending dozens with every blast. Seizing his moment, the leader of the Fordanta, the great Lord Marshal Hel’Val’Ra, led his Praetoria in the charge. Cutting clean into the Grox lines like a blade through air, the supernaturally swift aliens danced around the Grox’ fire, slaying foes left and right as the Zazane pushed further and further, still firing, still advancing. Val’Ra clutched a thermic hammer in his hand, fixing his gaze on the Grox walker, even as his brethren gave their lives so that he and the Zazane may fight on, and bring destruction to the Grox for their crimes. Seizing his moment, he broke ranks, and leapt onto one leg of the walker. His hammer struck with the fury of a god, smashing apart armour, destroying the insides. The pure heat of the weapon head radiated into the walker, melting its delicate electronics. Its legs started to buckle, Val’Ra leaping to the cockpit to plant his mace through and into the cockpit, silencing the walker’s guns for good. The Zazazane had pressed forward under the cover of enhanced tower shields, bringing together a formation of well-defended Praetoria, staggered by heavily-armed Zazane. The lines clashed once again, the Fordanta opening their shields to allow the Zazane to pass.

Without their fleet support or siege walker, the Grox were thrown back one final time. The fleet retreated from the system, taking the best hope for the conquest of this world with it. At final confirmation the enemy had left, the cheering was deafening. All this had been achieved by the not-so-subtle mix of Zazane ferocity and Fordan skill, uniting two disparate forces into one great army capable of holding against anything.

Fordanta with GUNZ!
The colony had been under siege for days now. When the Riakls Empire came under attack from its neighbours, the Fordanta were quick to respond. Regrettably, few warriors were at hand to assist in the defence of the outer colonies. Moreso, none of the warriors on hand had been granted the use of Void Keys. As a result, the first wave of warriors only arrived well after the first invasions had struck. With few options open to them, the warriors touched down inside the capital, and prepared for war.

Civillians and soldiers alike took heart at the sight of thirty of the elite Fordanta sprinting down their city streets. Five broke off and climbed the buildings on either side, to get a better viewpoint of the battle. Another five were tapping on wrist guards that responded to their touch with pulses of light. As they neared the front lines, the twenty in front drew all manner of close-quarter weapons, some clicking shields into place. Domes of force surrounded the warriors- weak deflector shields designed to protect them from enemy fire. The five behind them were an oddity- they drew what appeared for all the world to be firearms- the Fordanta using them was unheard of.

Atop a tower, one of the five other Fordanta had brought up a much larger firearm. At least two point five metres in length, the weapon's glowing barrel and elongated scope made it clear it was intended for long-ranged engagement, also something unheard of in the Fordan military. His four comrades had set up similarly, each carrying slightly different rifles, but all to the same basic design. Then, as their observers looked on, they began to disappear as stealth fields activated. This concept of Fordanta hiding and striking from a distance struck at odds with many, with whom the Fordanta had a reputation of being very much a close-quarters army that was unafraid to stand in the face of their enemy.

The twenty Knights leading the group stopped at the ridge of rubble from which the defenders had been holding out. Behind them, five War Craftsmen, the Fordan equivalent of a combat engineer, drew up their weapons, firing a salvo of grenades over the ridge and into the advancing enemy ranks. The grenades detonated simultaneously, timed to the nanosecond by dumb AI rather than relying on guesses and fixed timers. The concussive waves knocked nearby enemies off their feet, while deafening and disorientating those behind. The cloaked Hunters on the rooftops took this as their cue and began to pick off the enemy's leadership. Gauss rifles launched inch thick slugs at supersonic velocities, their flight heralded only by a tiny flash as the weapons discharged.

With their initial charge halted and their leaders dead, the invaders were not ready to meet the fiery onslaught of the twenty Knights that rose up from the ridge. Thermic weapons swung true, cleaving limbs and smashing bodies in their wake. The enemy battle line was in disarray and starting to collapse, as the colony's defenders pushed their newfound advantage. The Fordanta began to relax, thinking their work to be done.

As they regrouped and began to walk back to the Solarian ship that had delivered them, they heard a fresh wave of explosions and a chorus of screams. Twirling around, the Fordanta found themselves facing an armoured convoy of no less than two-score battle tanks that had just breached the perimeter wall. Dashing to either side of the street, the Fordanta took any cover available while the Hunters found new sniping positions. A Craftsman hurled a small orb into the air, which unfolded into a UAV drone. This drone whirred past the battle line, before analysing the tanks that had just attacked. The Craftsman summarised his findings, and his Kin set about laying their traps.

The first thing the enemy knew of the ambush was a string of detonations from underneath their hull. A line of proximity mines had been carefully laid to cause maximum damage to the vehicles' motive units, bringing the line grinding to a halt. Two Craftsmen burst from cover, launching a trio of grenades each into the tracks of the rear tank. These grenades were thermic charges, and between them they reduced the tank's drives to slag. The tank commander popped open the hatch of his command vehicle, only to have his head taken off by a careful shot from a Huntsman. Trapped and leaderless, the other tanks tried to escape by ramming through a nearby building.

This particular building, however, had already been rigged for destruction by the Craftsmen. As soon as the tanks entered, the building's south-west and south-east support beams imploded, bringing the mass of the building crashing down onto half the tank column. Before the survivors could react, the Knights were already upon them. Hammers and maces pounded the hull, turning the tanks into glowing red ovens, while swords and knives sought out vision slits and weapon sponsons, plunging in to cook off ammunition stores or char pilots.

Within ten minutes, the convoy was destroyed. All the same, the city was being overrun as weight of numbers began to take its toll on the already tired defenders. Seeing no other option, the Fordanta fell back under the cover of the Hunters, who were themselves displacing every minute or so to keep up. The Craftsmen fired as they ran, energy bolts lashing out into whoever came near. One Craftsman brought up a chakram launcher, the bladed disk carving through a knot of enemy troops. Headless bodies slumped to the floor as the monoatomic edge stuck hard into a nearby wall.

In the meantime, the Hunters had put away their rifles and drawn handguns instead, launching ugly fat darts into the enemies' necks as the still-cloaked warriors ran on. Once the darts stuck in, they released a small device that pulsed out electricity, which sent the body's nervous system into wild, uncontrollable spasms before the feedback knocked the brain out. Sometimes the target would fire randomly, spraying bullets across his comrades. Other times the target would be controlling a light vehicle, causing it to crash and occasionally explode.

The thirty Fordanta met up at the ship just as the assault force was starting to breach the spaceport gates. As the Solarian pilot began take-off, its parent cruiser flew in low to the ground. The transport was barely in flight for fifteen minutes before it docked with the cruiser, and the battlefield was lit up with brilliant gold lances of searing energy. As the Fordanta Kin-leader reached the control room, he was informed that the last civilians had been evacuated, and the Warflock had been given permission to commence bombardment. All in all, the Fordanta were glad to have made it out only with largely superficial injuries, and retired to their chambers to await the counterattack.

Borealis War Introduction
''Cold air crept through a small chamber. The smooth walls of the circular room contrasted starkly with the hexagonal pylon in the middle. Three robed figures drew close to the pylon. One of them held out a hand, manipulating a console on one of the edges. The pylon sparked to life, projecting a plane of shimmering light along its top surface. Articulated limbs descended from the ceiling, each projecting a cluster of pinpoint lights into the air above the hexagonal grid the plane created. Two of the figures bowed to the third, who swiftly left the room.''

''The flickering blue light illuminated deep green scales, turned viridian in the glow. One of the figures motioned to one of the clusters, seeming to grasp it, and draw it close. Reptilian eyes scrutinised minute details projected within the sphere, before a clawed hand scattered the stars onto the projection. The other clusters dissipated, while the hexagonal grid shifted to display a small star map. Some fifty star systems were charted here, centred on three stars marked in green. Taloned fingers splayed, and the map zoomed in to these systems.''

''The second figure glanced around the room, and nodded to the other. Sure that they were alone, the Fordanta began to talk.''

Councillor - Marshal, the recent developments in the Borealis Galaxy has many of us concerned for the welfare of our colonists there. Marshal - Councillor, rest at ease. There are sufficient Warriors there to ensure the safety of the core worlds, and with them the Void Relays they guard. This 'Falrik Zaarkhun' is of no concern to us. While he may yet prove a danger to the Borealis, the Empire is secure, and we will become strong again. Councillor - I wish that I shared your confidence, Marshal, but I caution you all the same: was it not our arrogance that led to our downfall before? Take this matter more seriously, Marshal. Do not disappoint us. Marshal - Councillor, I was there. I watched as dozens of worlds, and billions of Kin burned under that onslaught. I watched our Empire take its dying breath. I will not see those days return, so long as a drop of blood flows through my veins. Councillor - Then ensure that those worlds do not fall. Should this Zaarkhun covet our space, which his kind are wont to do, I do not know if the limited soldiers we have could hold them off. Borealis is not the Ancestor's Gift, Marshal. Marshal - Then we will bring Ko'Sa'Va's peace and tranquility to the sector. By surrounding ourselves with willing allies, we become much less a target. Furthermore, by promoting as nonviolent an image as possible, we become less the threat. If all goes well, the Borealis colonies will thrive free of danger, and perhaps our allies in the Serene Trade Federation may find new outlets for their goods. Councillor - This is good, Marshal. As always you are well attuned to the situation. Although our honoured Blademaster might disagree, sometimes a Warrior must trod the Councillor's path. I will take your recommendations to the Grand Council when we next meet. Marshal - Se'Ka'Ra Ma'To'Res, Councillor. Councillor - Var'Na Mes'Sah, Marshal.

''With that, the politician and soldier parted ways. One full of hope at the prospect of thriving Fordan colonies in a foreign galaxy, the other left brooding over past failures. Mistakes had been made. Now they would be unmade.''

Generic PMC Story
''The planet Tarakis. It had known its fair share of war, as factions of the dominant species waged wars to determine supremacy. These wars had, however, been relatively tame, and restricted to single continents. This changed very quickly, however, when the PMC known as the 'Space Troopers of Fardevia United' decided to take over the planet as a new base of operations in the sector. Using second-rate coilguns purchased from black market vendors, the troopers established a base on the southern continent of the planet, and began to send forces over to subdue the local populace. Their goal was domination, not destruction: The locals would be used as slave labour to fuel the PMC's war machine and provide materiel for mercenary units in the field.''

''The locals, however, were unwilling to go down without a fight. They had a whole planet's military already in an active state, and all it took was a foreign invasion to spark a change of opinion. Putting aside their differences, the two opposing factions stood shoulder to shoulder to repel these invaders.''

It was not enough.

''Trooper - Sir, this city has been wiped out. No survivors. ''Captain - What? Are you an idiot or something? We're under orders to take prisoners, not destroy everything in sight! ''Trooper - Orders from higher up, sir! We were told to nuke this city as a warning to the others. Should make them surrender pretty fast. ''Captain - Oh, right. Well why didn't you tell me about that before we started? Chain of command for a reason, trooper! Trooper - Sorry, sir, won't happen again.

On the other side of the line, the Tarakian high command was in disarray.

''Commander - What do you mean they just blew through our defences? We'd been strengthening them for months! Not even one of your heavy missiles could break them! ''General - Never seen anything like the guns these guys have. Some kind of fancy energy weapon, the kind of thing we just started developing. ''Commander - Well, we have to do something about this! Lieutenant, direct the fourth army to intercept the invaders! ''Lieutenant - The Fourth is already engaged with enemies on the perimeter of this city. ''Commander - WHAT?! How did they get here this damn fast? Lieutenant - Reports are they fell out of the-

''Before the Lieutenant could finish, an explosion tore a hole in the command centre's wall. Reeling, the soldiers quickly reached for their weapons, only to find the barrels of coilguns and personal missile launchers aimed at them. One of the attackers stepped forward from the smoke to address the soldiers.''

''Captain - This planet is now the property of the Space Troopers of Fardevia United, or STFU for short. You will now surrender, and order all active military units to stand down immediately. Furthermore, you will be expected to-''

''As quickly as he had arrived, the Captain was cut short in his own sentence. A glowing blade protruded from his chest, burning his flesh and armour. A blood-drowned shriek made it past his lips as the blade was yanked back, taking the Captain with it, back into the smoke.''

''General - Marshal, status report! ''Marshal - The majority of the attackers in this area have been defeated by an unidentified military unit. It is not native to this planet. ''Commander - Let's hope these guys aren't going to take their place. ''??? - You do not need to fear in that regard, Commander. ''Commander - W-who are you? S-s-show you-yourself now! ??? - As you wish.

''The smoke settled to reveal a tall, menacing figure. Clad in pearlescent white armour, and a glowing blade suspended by a chain from a gauntlet on his wrist. Around him were heaped the corpses of the Fardevian troopers, guarded over by more of his kind.''

''Hel'Val'Ra - Forgive the somewhat sudden introduction. I had expected to have a few hours to talk before this particular force struck. I am Knight-commander Hel'Val'Ra of the Fordan Empire. Your planet is sufficiently close to our Borealis colonies that, if you wished it, you could become a feudal state in the Empire. ''Commander - Feudal state? What is that? ''Hel'Val'Ra - A feudal state is an independent governing body which owes certain allegiances to the Fordan Empire. These include a commitment to the cause of universal co-operation and peace, and the obligation to contribute military forces as required to defend other feudal states in the local region. ''General - Why should we help you, or any of your other 'feudal states' then? Seems like we just get to be your pets. ''Hel'Val'Ra - Your own protection. Just as you are expected to help defend other states, so the other states are expected to help defend you. Of course, if you do not wish for our aid, then I wish you luck combatting the remaining mercenaries on the planet. As much as I would like to assist you further, I am needed elsewhere. ''Commander - Well hang on a second, so we still get to govern ourselves right? You won't take over our government? ''Hel'Val'Ra - That is correct. And you may retire your status as a feudal state at any time. We are here to help you, not to shackle or resist you. ''Commander - In that case, it might be worth considering. I assume you people know how to travel between planets, right? If you give us that tech, then sure we'll have a look at the offer. ''Hel'Val'Ra - I am more than aware of what you are attempting to do. Enjoy the benefits of our assistance, then leave as soon as you see no more immediate benefit. If you choose to do so, then feel free. But be warned, we publicly broadcast every new addition and removal from our feudal states. The moment you decide to leave us, every faction with an eye on your planet will know you are vulnerable. ''General - So, that's it huh? Either join you forever or we're dead? ''Hel'Val'Ra - Here is a superior way to view the situation: You can refuse our aid, and continue on your own. Alternatively, you can accept our aid for as long as you deem necessary. It may be that, at some point, you see no more use in the agreement and terminate it. It will certainly not be the first time. In either case, I wish you luck. ''Commander - Look, General. We can leave this agreement at any time if it doesn't suit us, and these people can probably help us set ourselves up to protect our world. We don't want any more territory, except perhaps our moon, but we're more than happy with what we have. Let's just take the offer for now, and our people can sleep soundly. ''General - I suppose you're right. We'll take your deal, alien. ''Hel'Val'Ra - I am glad that you have made this decision. A representative of the local Fordan Council will arrive shortly after this mercenary threat is removed, to facilitate your induction into the galactic community. Once you properly understand the commitment you are making, the Empire will do all it can to help you achieve your goals. For now, however, I must attend to these mercenaries.''

''With the assistance of the Fordanta, the Tarakian military pushed back the invading mercenaries, and eventually overtook the stronghold on the southern continent. The long-standing war between the two rival factions ended in a truce: each faction claimed for themselves a single continent, and continued to follow their way of life. With the guidance of the Fordan advisor, they established a communal council designed to act for the good of the species as a whole. Within years, the first moon colony was established, and the body was terraformed into a lush, green world frequented by holidayers. Trade routes were opened with faraway nations, and exotic goods flowed into the world's market. And through it all, the people of Tarakis never forgot the day that one alien threatened to tear their world apart, and another helped to stitch it back together.''

The Council at War
''The wars to claim the Ko'Sa'Va galaxy from the grip of the Grox were violent, bloody and merciless. Fortunately, they also turned out to be very swift. The pitched battles on the ground and in space did little to suggest this, however. For every system gained, another stood on the precipice of destruction. It was only steadily and surely that a wave could destroy a mountain, and yet the Council persevered. By the combined might of the Fordan Empire, the Iron Systems Federation and the Solarian Theocracy, the Grox were slowly being defeated.''

Hel'Bre'K - How much longer must I wait, Magos? Dmitri - Estimated time of arrival: three point zero five segments. Hel'Bre'K - Very well. On your guard, another Grox wave is incoming! Dmitri - Diverting Sentinel unit Sierra to provide fire.

''On this battleground in particular, the fighting was more pitched than most. In a daring assault, Council forces had cut past the Grox blockade to try and destroy an important local operations centre. The Federation fleet cleared the Grox lines easily, their mighty weapons and impregnable shields defying the worst of Grox technology. Their Solarian escorts were not so lucky. Many of the ships were either destroyed or critically damaged, leaving the Council forces with a sorely missed gap in their assault force. The pinch in the blockade the push had created, however, opened the way for another Solarian fleet to punch through themselves, and they were speeding to the aid of the Council forces on the ground.''

''Marinox assault forces were sweeping towards the Council landing forces. Normal policy was to blast cities from orbit- the planets were already dead rocks, and so the Council had no sane reason not to glass the cities and be done with it. This control centre, however, may have possessed vital intelligence, and so they could not risk it. As such, the decision was made to launch a full ground assault to claim the position. Empire, Federation and Theocracy troops were ordered to deploy, however the initial assault did not go as well as planned. The massed ordnance which would normally have been eradicated by orbital fire were fully functional, and the first Fordan assault force was broken by heavy weapons fire. Val'Ra was forced to retreat, as Dmitri called for reinforcement.''

''Dmitri's troops arrived with a thunderous roar. Armoured mechanical monstrosities, far larger and more potent than the Grox vehicles arrayed against them, the Paladins controlling the mechs set to work clearing out the heavy guns suppressing the infantry. Thirty-foot walkers opened fire with minigun, laser, missile and plasma, blasting anything that came near into scrap. Smaller, more mobile suits advanced under the fusillade, using close-ranged thermal weaponry to render defensive sites unusable, before turning flamethrowers onto the Grox troops. With the front line broken, the warriors on the ground were free to commit to the battle.''

''The Fordan infantry renewed their charge, frustrated rage boiling over. They scurried like ants in-between the legs of the mighty walkers guiding their path, pouring over the barricades and into the Grox lines. Goliath-pattern constructs tore into fortifications, opening new holes and crushing the defenders. At the very tip of the living spear, Hel'Bre'K dared the brunt of the Grox firepower, his powered shield sparking at the strikes of laser and bullet as he ran headlong into the enemy lines. Two millennia ago, he had done exactly the same on countless worlds, to try and buy time for more civilians to escape. Time and time again, he was forced into a full retreat, often knocked unconscious and dragged away by the very Praetorians that ran at full-tilt to keep up with their Lord and charge. In his off hand, Hel' clutched the mighty blade with which he had struck countless thousands of lives from existence, its keen edge glowing with the fire of Hel's warrior spirit. Fighter and weapon shared the same ancient hunger for blood, a red thirst that would never be sated.''

''As a Goliath construct ripped a section of wall asunder, Hel' was the first footsoldier on the broken rampart. Grox warriors rained shots at him as he ran uphill, but shield and rage held true, and the warrior closed the distance. A volley of grenades soared overhead, the warnings and shouts of the Knights behind him hastening his charge.

Attempt at fixing Star of Disdain
Meanwhile, in the core space...

Jahric looked at his fleet emerging from the wormholes and smiled when he saw a similar fleet appearing to meet him. However, when Coalition fleets started coming, his eyes opened wide - he was quite, quite surprised. Soon he opened a holographic communication with Ploiarch Quendor.

Quendor - Eh, hi, dad. Jahric - ''Hello. What are these Artharons doing with you?'' Quendor - ...haven't I told you about that? Jahric - ''Ah, yes. I thought I misheard you.'' Abal'nyan - This alliance is of convenience, Radeon, and only convenience. ??? - ...'

A fish-like figure appeared on the holographic channel.

Jahric - Who is that?! Quendor - I bet that's another Grox or something. ??? - Call me Disdain.

With an ear-shattering howl, a Grox flagship appeared, surrounded by swarms of smaller fighters, who have immediately started to surround the AGC-aligned fleet.

Quendor - Dammit.

Disdain's image vanished.

Jahric - The Grox are attempting to cut our forced on Cathemera from reinforcements... Quendor - ''Okay, so let's fight!.. I mean, eh, requesting permission to engage the enemy.'' Jahric - Affirmative.

Jahric fired his ship's electrolasers and seared the Grox ships attacking him. They appeared to be small drones and their size and sheer numbers made them a major threat. His rag-tag fleet and Quendor's Coalition allies seemed to deal with the enemies, with UNO Omega Commander unleashing its deadly weapons to destroy them in thousands, but the drone attack did not seem to stop. Jahric and Quendor contacted the UNO ship in attempt to find the fleet's weakness.

Jahric - There are more of them coming? Tralkik Commander - ''Indeed; according to our scan of the Grox fleet, they are produced on the flagship itself - and controlled from it. Destroying the flagship would destroy the whole fleet.'' Quendor - Then attack now!

Quendor attempted to attack the flagship, but with no success. Its shields shrugged off everything he was throwing at it.

Quendor - The darn thing is invulnerable! Tralkik Commander - The flagship has highly advanced shields; it cannot be destroyed from the outside with our weaponry; only from the inside. Quendor - ''Ah. Been there, seen that. Beam on the ship, throw some explosives, voila, ship dead.'' Tralkik Commander - ''Unfortunately, the Grox know about that and nothing can beam on the ship as long as it is not within its closest proximity. And even then, you have to overcome the shields first. And we do not have the weapons to do so.''

Quendor sighed and prepared his weapons for another wave of drones, who continued to attack.

Quendor - At least I gonna die with a bang.

The Radeon captain casually fought off the machine onslaught, with mixed success. Minutes came and the battle was only becoming wilder. Sooner or later, they would have fallen. Quendor, tired and desperate, looked at the glass of the captain bridge, on the brink of being broken, and noticed a strange flash of light in space.

Admiral Kaios - Now you hold on right there lad!

A fleet of famous Andromedan pirates appeared firing at the Grox drones. At the spearhead of the fleet was a trio of flagships, the personal ship of Pirate King Admiral Jayraan Kaios, the Reaver, at the fore. The Grox guns turned on the new arrivals, blasting dozens of ships apart with every volley.

Jahric - ''Pirates! Halt.'' Admiral Kaios - ''Not your call to make kid. Now sit back and watch the gunshow!'' Jahric - ...fine then.

Roaring out in front of the fleet, the Reaver's bow split open, and the barrel of a distinctive black cannon poked out.

Kaios - ''My name is Jayraan Kaios! Get. The hell. Out. Of my. Galaxy!.''

With that, the weapon sparked to life, a massive energy beam lancing out and into the Grox motehrship. The Reaver shuddered as the weapon drained its generators, and the remaining pirate ships dashed in to cover Kaios while his shields recharged. Quendor and Jahric looked at the flagship. The shields around him were sparking, breaking, as it was weakened somehow.

Jahric - How could you- Kaios - ''Trade secret lad. Confederate ships, target lock on the Grox mothership!'' Quendor - Are its shields destroyed? Tralkik Commander - ''No. Only weakened. But this gives us the opportunity to weaken it even more and break it - although we still do not have weapons to do so. For disrupting its shields for even a second, it would require the firepower equivalent to around seven spaceship cores' explosions.'' Quendor - ''Did you say... seven cores?''

Quendor looked at Divinarium ships. There were around seven left.

Jahric - ''...No, no, no! I won't allow you to waste lives like this. It is against all of my principles.'' Quendor - But father, this is our only hope! Jahric - ''There are no fathers in the fleet! I am your superior and you have to comply!'' Quendor - ...Triarch Telnhao, I request you to consider my tactic.

Jahric pondered for a few seconds, memories of the past appearing in his mind. He heard ghosts whispering to him, his soldiers who got killed.

Tralkik Commander - ''Keep in mind that the flagship will soon restore its shields. You have to think fast.'' Tuolog - If you will attack, I protect you with my Gyronic powers.

Jahric banished his memories and returned back to his post.

Jahric - ''To all captains of the Dei'Ar fleet, prepare for ramming the Grox flagship. When the self-destruction mechanism will activate, beam down to the ship immediately.''

Jahric led his ship and Quendor's fleet into the flagship. He knew he would most likely die, and that he might kill his subordinates, but this time, he chose to forget it. He decided to listen to his son, and he hoped it will work.

Jahric - Goodbye, Silvermoon...

As the explosion devoured his own ship - and the Grox flagship - the Divinarium captains quickly used his personal teleportation devices to beam down on Disdain's vessel to end with him, once and for all.

Jahric found himself inside the Grox flagship, steel grey inside, built for cold utility. Quendor was lying next to him, next to the corpses of other Divinarium captains. Jahric's heart sank but as he saw Quendor breathing, he was relieved - somewhat. The Triarch helped his son stand and they prepared for their final assault.

Quendor - It seems that only we two managed to beam successfully. Jahric - ''Why are you so calm? It was your plan that killed them!'' Quendor - ''I don't care - we're here, after all. Let's go to the ship and blow it quickly.''

The Radeon duo crawled in the Grox ship's tunnels, reminding Quendor of the similar encounter during the battle with the Coalition - this time, however, there were only them two, and the Grox were far more ruthless. As they reached a large room, which appeared to be a weaponry store, they saw four large, fish-like warriors walking, similar to Disdain himself, walking through the large pits with green, toxic acid. Jahric and Quendor quickly hid under a crate in fear.

Jahric - ''Grox Followers... I heard of them, but never though they look so intimidating.''

One of the Followers noticed captains speaking and looked at the crate with suspicion.

Quendor - ''We're caught! Fighting time!''

Quendor jumped from his hideout and leaped with great speed at one the Followers, the sheer momentum throwing him on the ground. Acting quickly, Quendor grabbed his power sword and pierced it into the Follower's chest, sundering his black, heavy armour that covered most of his body. The fishlike creature screeched and Quendor threw him into the pits.

Seeing their comrade dead, other Followers roared and fired their blasters at Quendor. Noticing the noise, he quickly turned and dodged the energy projectiles with great agility and made a gesture with his hand unleashing his psychic powers; suddenly, the Followers were thrown into the air, and one of them fell from the bridge.

Jahric - ...son, I'm proud.

As two remaining Followers continued to fight Quendor, Jahric appeared from his cover to fire a charged bolt of plasma from his pistol with a loud "swoosh" sound. One of the warriors turned his head to see what caused the noise and immediately, a bolt hit his head and exploded, leaving the Follower headless. The last of the creatures, the leader of the squad, roared and charged Jahric, smashing him to the ground. The Follower attempted to overpower him, but strangely found his enemy smirking. With snakelike agility, Jahric escaped the Follower's grasp.

Jahric - Quendor, run away!

Both Radeons quickly escaped the Follower who was quite confused. Examining his armour, he finally noticed a strange thing- a sticky ball at his armour. Curious, he put it into his hand and looked at it closely. He noticed it was beeping.

And this was the last sound he heard before the ball exploded in his hands.

Tralkik Commander - ''We have discovered the location of the main computer room. You have to get there quickly.''

Grox Follower - ''My master, they are coming for you! You must flee!'' Disdain - ''Let them go. My blade hungers!''

Disdain waited in anticipation for the arrival of his enemies. Finally, he saw a door into the computer room breaking as Jahric and Quendor appeared.

Disdain - Hahahaha... Jahric - ''Curse you! That's a Grox follower leader we were searching for!'' Disdain - ''This is the beginning and the end, lowlifes. I saw your destiny! It ends in blood.''

Disdain prepared his blades.

Quendor - ''Father, I will distract him! Get to the controls!''

Quendor charged Disdain with his sword only to fall on the ground screaming. The Grox Follower's psychic powers were no match for his.

Disdain - As I said.

Quendor attempted to break out of Disdain's bind only to feel even more pain.

Quendor - ''I... must... AHHHHH!''

Jahric saw Disdain's attacks and roared in anger. He attempted to shoot Disdain, but he used his telekinesis to negate the attacks.

Disdain - ''It is all over. Your friends in the AGC will fall before the Grox. And you will be the first.''

Disdain doubled his agonising attack and Quendor shrieked, falling on the ground nearly dead. Finally having enough, Jahric ran to Disdain and challenged him.

Jahric - ''You! Stop torturing the young boy and fight me! It will be a duel of honour. I have learned ancient techniques of combat in Milky Way and I will not be afraid to use them!''

Disdain laughed.

Disdain - ''You are to face the High Prophet of Disdain. The ruler of the Andromedan Grox. Grochius' second-in-command. You will fall here and now. I am unstoppable.''

Disdain grabbed his two blades and rolled them in a theatrical manner. Jahric smirked.

Jahric - I lied. Disdain - What?! Jahric - ' I said I have learned ancient combat techniques in Milky Way. But I only know one.''

Disdain, confused, stopped for a second hen Jahric kicked him between his legs. Screaming in pain, the Grox Followers' leader fell. At last free of his psychic assault, Quendor stood and turned to his father.

Jahric - ''I learned that on Earth. Apparently the locals use it to stun the enemy in combat. Now I know it works on ugly oversized fish too.''

Wasting no more time, Jahric and Quendor used the Grox computer to disable the flagship's shields.

Tralkik Commander - ''Excellent. We shall resume the attack againt the ship now. Prepare for teleporation.''

Two Radeons quickly teleported from the Grox flagship to the UNO Omega Commander. Meanwhile, awakening from the shock, Disdain quickly took a shuttle, escaping the battle and swearing revenge...

Maniacal laughter flooded across the Omega Commander's bridge. An ensign pointed out the port view screen, where the Confederacy ships had regrouped. The Reaver had recharged, and the main gun was primed to fire again. Kaios' voice cackled across the comms, full of glee.

Kaios - After you, UNO. Tralkik Commander - Fire all weapons Kaios - If you insist, AHAHAHAAA!

Another blast of energy roared out and gutted the mothership's engines. Its generators finally overloaded, and the shields fully collapsed. The Omega Commander turned its own guns on the stricken vessel, and tore it apart with systematic fire. The AGC commanders would have thanked Kaios for his timely aid, but the wily pirate was already out-system. As the AGC fleet mopped up the remaining Grox, the struggle continued on the planet below...

Levels of Conflict
When it comes to fiction, I differentiate between 'levels' of conflict, and these levels define how much attention I pay to individual elements of the battle. I'm just throwing this list together for the hell of it, I really don't think this will have any bearing on anything.


 * Heroic - Heroic stories are very small-scale, based on a team of protagonist main characters which follows their exploits. Primary focus: individual action. Describe movements in detail, and give clear vision of effects. Dialogue frequent.
 * Squad - Focused on a group of characters, of which only one will be a significant character (possibly more if there are attached characters). Deals with an organised unit, an impromptu assembly is best written in the Heroic style. Primary focus: Squad tactics, movement, positioning, e.t.c. Dialogue moderate. Attention paid to the unit as a single character.
 * Small conflict - Consists of a single battle group of soldiers, possibly with armour support. Primary focus: tide of battle, effect of armour/individual units. Dialogue infrequent, usually orders.
 * Moderate conflict - Deals with battles involving multiple battle groups, which will frequently be accompanied by armour and/or air support. Primary focus: tide of battle, effects of armour/individual units. Dialogue infrequent, as above.
 * Large-scale battle - Consists of the equivalent force of a full army. Primary focus: tide of battle. Attention paid to armour/support. Dialogue infrequent, strictly limited to orders.
 * Planet-scale conflict - Consists of multiple army groups. Primary focus: overall state of conflict. Clear distinction between tiers of combat (infantry and mechanised). Dialogue infrequent, orders only except when in a war-room scene.


 * Dogfight - Space battle consisting only of fighters and bombers, potentially carriers. Primary focus: fighter 'ace,' state of battle. Dialogue frequent, largely taunts and jests, as well as plot-sensitive orders.
 * Face-off - One or more cruisers per side. Focus: exchange and effect of fire. Communications largely restricted to orders.

ISF vs Grox
Machines are known for their uncompromising precision, the inevitability with which they go about their task. It is this quality that makes machines both useful and terrifying. The Grox, the ancient and implacable foe that has plagued the universe since time immemorial, embodied this terror in its full. Andromeda reeled under the assault of these faceless, remorseless beings fuelled by their own cold alien logic and purpose. Even the mightiest races of Andromeda struggled to maintain their vast territories under this renewed assault- the machines were without number and without mercy, the living were not.

Just as machines do not think as creatures of flesh do, neither do they invade in the same way. While the living favour swift assaults to reduce the number of lives lost, machines care not for the number of casualties they take- more will be built in time. As such, the steady advance of the Grox military caught out many planetary defences designed to repel lightning attacks. Days of systematic bombardment reduced the primary defences to rubble, shattering colony walls and destroying planetary shield generators. The hulking forms of Grox Dreadnoughts loomed over the planet, casting great shadows on the landing sites where thousands of Grox battlesuits were teleporting onto the planet surface.

The planet's inhabitants put up a fierce fight, but the Grox' advance was relentless. For every battlesuit that fell, another ten joined the line, each pressing in with more and more firepower. Defence lines buckled under the mechanical assault, and the Grox were loose inside the colonies. Families and guerrilla fighters alike took what shelter they could in the blasted shells of buildings, as columns of Grox marched down the main streets, squads branching off to search every city block. Any form of resistance was crushed ruthlessly by precise fire and mechanical efficiency. Within the space of two weeks, the Grox had completely subjugated the planet, and those in the surrounding systems.

They continued this methodical approach to warfare, until they arrived at a colony world belonging to the Iron Systems Federation. Here, unlike the many worlds before, the planetary defence fleet not only survived the initial assault, but was able to fight back, drawing the space battle to a stalemate. Undeterred, the Grox began their planetary bombardments, aiming to eliminate as much of the ground population as possible in the time it would take for the fleet above to deal with its temporary inconvenience. Ordnance rained down on the colony shields, but the shots could not penetrate the coruscating domes of force protecting the cities. As the orbital defence batteries stationed in each colony traded volleys of fire with the Grox ships above, the commander settled on teleporting ground troops in to silence the guns and shield generators manually, after which the whole defence network would collapse from beneath.

The Grox forces advanced unflinchingly into the fire coming from the outer bastions, the troops being shot down replaced as always by more reserves. Heavy weapons lashed out from either side, each trying to find a weakness. Eventually, the sheer numbers of the Grox became the telling factor; there were simply too many bodies to put down. Like a wave crashing against a cliff, the Grox wore down the formidable bastions of the Federation, bringing their mighty support guns down with them. The perimeter shield generators around the colony fell one by one, and though the primary generators were located in the centre of the city, the outer fringe was unprotected from orbital fire. Shots rained down again, leaving smoking ruins where the proud manufactorums of the Federation once stood.

The Grox line on the ground was only halted by the arrival of a foe as menacing and implacable as the Grox themselves: the Paladins of the Iron Order. Two full legions of Paladins emerged from their subterranean bunkers, their towering war machines glinting in the light of star and explosive alike. Their sheer size, and the size of their weaponry, made the once formidable Grox battlesuits look like childrens' toys in comparison. Massive cannons barked fire into the Grox ranks, their massive shells tearing ground and suit apart. The return fire from the Grox was no less formidable, with tens of thousands of high-powered weapons hammering at the Paladins' shields and armour. While at first it looked as if the Grox would still prevail through numbers alone, more and more Paladins emerged from their concealed bunkers, bringing with them ever more esoteric weapons and designs as the battle escalated.

Thermal lances, plasma cannons and missiles joined the heavy autocannon and high-focus lasers brought to bear against the Grox. A swarm of weaponised nanites consumed whole squads of Grox, and gravity was nulled in sectors of the battlefield as the Magi of the Federation brought more of their technological lore to the battle. In the skies above, Federation ships poured shot after shot into the Grox armada, shields on both sides straining with every blast. The sheer magnitude of fire being exchanged by all sides was enough to fragment the crust of the planet, boiling rock spewing out of the mantle and into the fray, as if the planet itself wanted a stake in its fate.

Two unceasing tides of destruction ground against each other for hours, neither giving a moment's respite to the other, the titanic firepower exchanged with every volley paling in comparison to the sheer horror evoked by the methodical precision with which the destruction was meted out. This was a conflict not of two thinking, feeling organics, but of two cold machines. This was a war fought with cold logic and alien reason, and would be fought to the bitter end. Even as Federation weaponships finally broke Grox shields, and smote ships from existence like an angry God from some sacred story, and the Paladins beneath finally crushed the land invasion with weapons of mythological power, the machines fought on. It would be this cold determination that would destroy the realm of flesh, if there is no machine to defy it.

For GD12
The blizzard was as relentless as the armies that raged beneath it, howling with a primal force that had roared since before life appeared on the world. Shrouded in its snowy embrace, a bitter struggle for dominance of the planet had carved jagged ranks of trenches into the frozen earth. Craters the size of battle tanks littered no man's land, the bodies of the slain piled up where the weapon emplacements had taken their toll. Rusting ruins of once proud vehicles sat half-buried in the snow, barrels sticking out as if searching for one last kill.

Artillery barrages rained explosives and chemicals from afar, the latter a dense, caustic haze that could eat through the skin of its victims in seconds. Heavy weapons were the order of the day, large-calibre autoguns whose accuracy could only be attributed to the sheer size and strength of their wielders. Landcruisers, slow moving armoured behemoths, crawled across the battlefield, their armour impervious to all short of the recently developed particle cannons delivering their own version of ordnance hell from orbit.

For years, each side had been trying to find a way to break the deadlock, launching brutal assaults, night raids, firing artillery for days on end, and sending whole regiments of tanks over the lines at once, hoping to gain some form of advantage. So far, it had all been for nought. This stalemate continued, an endless grind that swallowed lives by the dozen. The Tyranny considered these losses acceptable, there would always be more soldiers, and the forces of the Chillarchy would run dry soon enough. Still, the war had dragged on for too long, and the meat grinder over no man's land was delaying the process of unification.

So it was that the Tyranny's government turned to Installation 01 to craft them a weapon that would bring the war to a decisive end. For years, the scientists there experimented with design and theory until they developed a working prototype. An integrated offensive and defensive system designed to enhance the combat potential of the warrior operating it beyond what was already capable of their formidable physique. After years of development behind closed doors, the first suits of powered armour were ready for testing. Among the first batch of candidates was Master Sergeant Mortrig, a particularly grim, battle-worn individual resolved to bring the conflict to an end.

Hel'/Tyraz
The clamor of battle rung in Hel’s ears, and he could not be more glad. The foes he fought were hardly even matches, there was little in the universe that could be considered such for a warrior of his caliber, but it was an enemy that far outnumbered him, his warriors, and his allies. Still, the time he spent now, and those he spent with, were what made it so memorable. Glowing thermic weapons danced streaks of fire across chitinous shells, while shidium blades carved flesh asunder in an unending tide of destruction. Plasma and shidium exchanged fire with bone-like barbs flung at high speeds, and razor claws and teeth flashed on both sides. In total, twenty Fordanta and twenty Zazane stood in a ring of death, shoulder to shoulder as they smote their enemies, an insect-like beast that had infested a Hunt World. Standing around a small hill in a clearing, the warriors fought with abandon, striking out at every opportunity, heedless to the danger. The insects’ claws and spines had little hope of penetrating their armour, and this battle was merely a release of pent-up rage. Still, it was a memorable experience to all involved.

At the summit of the hill, Hel’Bre’K stood back to back with Tyraz Breek, the Zazane warlord Hel’ once blamed for the death of his blade-brother Ja’Dan. In the wake of the war in the Ko’Sa’Va, Hel’ had invited Tyraz to join him on this hunt. There were answers to be found, and a Ce’So’Va could only find those answers in battle. And so, here they were, the demon and the knight, back to back, in a sea of aliens that covered the land for miles around. Gnashing teeth and the scuttling of many limbs laid down the base upon which the two warriors crafted a symphony of death, claymore and Firesword striking down the aliens without tire.

And for the first time in over two thousand years, Hel’ laughed as he fought. Deep, booming laughter rolled across the plains as he cut apart any alien that came near, his glowing claymore sending sprays of sizzling blood and charred meat flying with every swing. Claws and fangs skittered against his armor, trying to find purchase to no avail. Though his armour was not completely sealed, and his helmet was as functional as the solid piece of metal it was, the aliens could not find a single weakness to exploit before he tore them apart with sweeping blade strikes or brutal swings from his back-limbs or tail.

Tyraz performed no less admirably, for what he lacked in skill he more than made up for in brutal strength. The demonic sword blazed in his grip, and even without his Descended powers he was a formidable opponent. Though his short size brought him to eye level with the insects, he just swept the blade through the oncoming ranks, heedless of what little damage he was taking. Great waves of fire leapt forth at his command, scorching whole swathes of aliens. On his flank, the Blademaster surged forward in a blur of jagged blades, his claymore planted deep in the ground as he tore into the enemy bare-handed. The aliens’ bitter blood thrilled on his tongue as his great hangs tore limbs and heads from bodies, and his back-limbs impaled and flung enemies over his shoulders. Rising up from a crouch, the old Fordanta launched a vicious uppercut that punched clean through exoskeleton and meat, bursting out the other side in an explosion of gore. Ripping his arm free with a callous sweep of his off hand, he roared a challenge out to the planet, daring it to send ever more powerful creatures for him to slay.

As the Firesword smote ever more aliens, Hel’s primal wrath kindled a fire in Tyraz that he had not felt for a long time. The Fordanta is right, killing on instinct is so much… fun when you don’t have to think about the consequences. Taking a chance, Tyraz followed Hel’s example and let his instincts through. His brutal strikes came harder and faster, the Firesword glowing ever brighter as Tyraz’ natural fury flowed through it. The two warriors fought side by side again, plunging deep into the alien swarm as they charged headlong to meet the challenge. Long knives flashed in Hel’s hands, the blades the length of a man’s arm, their jagged edges tearing flesh asunder. Spinning into a whirlwind of death, Hel’ leapt into a clutch of aliens, ripping them apart in a mere second. Not to be outdone, Tyraz became a pillar of smoke, dashing between kills as he struck again and again, each swing killing, each dash bringing him closer to his next victim. Behind them, their retinues struggled to keep pace, Fordan Praetorians fighting alongside Zazane Niddan Ho as they fought to keep up with their Lords.

The fighting lasted for many hours, as Tyraz’ Descension fuelled his body, and Hel’ refused to let himself be outdone on one of his own hunting grounds. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of the alien insects were dead in the field, their bodies piling up into a mound on which the warriors now fought, as they plunged on into the hive itself. Each sprinting alone and unaided into the labyrinthine corridors making up the alien hive, Hel’ and Tyraz carved through dozens of aliens apiece as they raced each other to the Hive Queen, at the heart of the sprawling tunnel network. Much to Hel’s chagrin, he found Tyraz already engaged at the foot of the Queen’s chamber, but wafting patches of black smoke betrayed the reason. A callous laugh was buried under the steady din of the slaughter, as the two warriors fought to their full potential. Carving a bloody, charred path up the slope to the Queen, the warriors fought off ever larger creatures until one grabbed Hel’ from behind, dragging him down.

Seeing his chance to take the Queen’s head for himself, Tyraz surged forward with renewed vigor, the Firesword flashing a deadly dance, the Queen in his sight. He raised the blade to deliver the killing blow, when a heavy strike from behind pitched him forward. Hel’ had thrown his great claymore, which had pierced Tyraz’ abdomen and impaled him to the Queen’s skull. Laughing as he wrenched the blade free, Hel’ clasped a hand around Tyraz’ shoulder, and fixed him with a gaze somewhere between approval, brotherly affection, and a certain homicidal desire to kill him where he stood. With the battle over, Tyraz settled down again, returning to his normal self. The bloody ruin that was the battlefield would be picked over by scavengers for days, until the last of the precious meat had rotted away. Hel’ accepted a drink from one of his Praetoria, and the two warriors, now lifelong friends, laughed, drank and boasted as they walked back to the dropship that had delivered them.

Hachiman Gets the Panda Special
The fight against the Devourer’s Chosen had left Hachi empowered, but bitter. While he had broken free of the influence of both Gelstara and Margirax himself, and ultimately been the one to cut them down, he still felt at a loss. To be sure, he was the toast of the day, but he never really felt like he fitted in. The great and powerful warriors and mentors with whom he had been working over the Borealis War, it seemed, still thought little of him for his inexperience. Asking for a week or so to gather his thoughts while the others prepared to take the fight to the Grox, Hachi set out on a solo mission to make peace with what was going on in his life.

His wandering search led him across much of the galaxy, to civilizations he had never seen or imagined. He fell in with a caravan making its route around several local systems, and spoke with dozens of alien species, hearing their stories and telling his own. He met aliens who followed the tenets of the War Economy, and an old ascetic droning on about spiritualistic pursuits and self-denial. And yet, everywhere he looked, Hachi could not find a single point of view to which he could relate. The ennui into which he had fallen finally carried him to a monastery world locked in a bitter civil struggle. Two opposing religious factions had finally resorted to outright war, and while the others scoffed and left them to their fate, Hachi felt the need to intervene, if only to protect those civilians caught in the crossfire.

Taking a single shuttle down to the planet surface, Hachi found the lines of battle were drawn in one of the most populated cities on the continent, and could tell from the bodies strewn across the streets that civilians were simply shot on sight, assumed to be part of one faction or the other. SAN guided him to a nearby school, where two groups were about to clash. Neither side of the conflict deserved his aid, so as he came upon the first group he was already prepared for the attack. Startled cries and gunshots announced his arrival, but Hachi was already in their midst. His sword weaved a deadly dance as he countered and struck, his attackers quickly decimated. One of the schoolteachers, noticing that he was not aligned with one of the religious groups, came out to ask for help.

She was a female of the indigenous race, cute enough to throw Hachi out of focus. He couldn’t understand her language, but he tried to motion for her to stay inside where it would be marginally safer. A hand flew to her mouth and she pointed behind him, and SAN’s warning gave Hachi just enough time to call up a shield of Dream Energy to protect the pair from a cannon shot. The other militant group had arrived, and they had armoured support with them. Wasting no time, Hachi sprinted at his new attackers, using Dream Energy to deflect the storm of bullets coming his way. Clutching his sword in both hands, he spun into a razor whirlwind, swiftly executing the front ranks. Calling up his energy again, he fired a concentrated blast into the tank’s tracks, causing it to grind to a halt. At his supernatural onslaught, the zealots lost heart and made to flee, but the tank held firm. The massive barrel turned to point at Hachi, but as it fired he used the last of his reserves to call up another shield, inside the barrel of the cannon. The blast ripped the upper portion of the tank apart, leaving the remaining zealots broken and running.

After a day of grinding against each other, the two sides called another uneasy truce. Hachi knew that sooner or later they would fight again, but at least he had helped save some lives. This made him reflect on what had occurred during the war, and he began to understand that he had done his part, no matter how small he thought it was. A simple enough revelation, but it set Hachi greatly at ease. While in the scope of the war he had done little, he had made a difference, and with this in mind, he returned to his allies, ready to face whatever came next.

Paragon With a Major in Arse-Kicking
Every battlefield tells its own story, each crater punctuating a narrative few would live to tell. One such hopeful, the Draconis watching from the gun lines, stood amongst his men as the enemy drew near. A faint flicker on the horizon told him all he needed to know. Bringing his fusion rifle up to his shoulder, he peered down the scope. Hovering close to the ground was a swarm of massive, cybernetic insectoids. These things, colloquially called ‘Mecha-wasps,’ had been ravaging the world, tearing it apart with swarms of nanomachines to create more wasps. The Talon forces under the Draconis’ command had been dispatched to curb the threat, but they had been caught off-guard by the unique nature of their enemy.

The first groups dispatched to the planet had been decimated in short order, as the wasps had integrated powerful weaponry into their enhanced forms, and had employed weaponised nanomachine swarms from the outset of the campaign. The garbled reports that returned to the Naval units in orbit indicated that the troops were pinned down, shot apart, and consumed on the molecular level by the wasps. It was clear to all that the enemy had to be disposed of, but the initially proposed small-unit tactics would prove insufficient. The Talon ground forces prepared to conduct a massed landing, and scour the planet under the cover of an orbital artillery bombardment.

And so the Draconis, Uriel Ultanos XVI, was standing in the first lines of the freshly erected prefab bunker complex, awaiting the coming assault. The curtain of orbital fire that had shielded their landing had moved on, commencing a scorched earth campaign to steadily purge the wasps. Still, it appeared that some hives had survived the blasts, and the wasps had begun their counterattack. Long-range fire support had opened up, punching holes in the advancing line, but the wasps continued forward, more coming to fill the gaps left by their fallen. Steadily, the wasps continued their advance, flitting over the terrain on augmented wings. Even coordinated heavy weapons fire failed to deter the swarm, and it closed to within rifle range of the forward trench lines, where Uriel’s brother was directing the first waves of troops.

Fusion rifles by the hundred opened fire, the superheated projectiles blasting insects apart with every strike. The return fire was no less fierce, with bioplasma trading fire with the Talon forces’ concentrated volleys. Legionnaires went down, their personal shields collapsing under the strain of the enemy fire, and the hastily-erected defence lines didn’t hold up long against the constant bombardment. Still, the intense fire managed to hold the wasps at bay for a time. That is, if you interpret ‘killing them at the same rate as they come forward’ as holding them at bay.

Still, even the highly effective fusion weapons could only hold the wasps at bay for so long. While their high body weight forced them to stay in the dense air closer to the ground, the wasps could freely send forward their swarms of replicator nanites, over the pitched battle beneath, and down onto the legionnaires below. It was all that was needed to break the strict firing discipline of the Talon forces, and gave the wasps time to close the distance.

Uriel could not help but look on in horror as his men were torn apart on the atomic level, as the nanite swarms consumed flesh, weapon and armour with equal voracity. Before long the entire trench line would be compromised if he didn’t act quickly. Rallying his forces into a counterattack, Uriel spearheaded an assault aimed at the point he determined the wasps would reach by the time he arrived. Ground artillery, timed for airborne explosions, shattered much of the nanite swarm, while a fresh wave of orbital fire crushed the wasps’ line. Firing from the hip, Uriel shot into every target he could see, trusting in the fierce power of the rifle in his grip to destroy the enemy if his accuracy failed him.

His predictions had proven true, and the reinforcements arrived at just the vanguard of the wasps’ renewed assault. Uriel was dismayed to learn that his brother was somewhere in the zone already overtaken by the wasps, however the orbital bombardment had cleared out the area significantly, and the second defence line was holding. As much as it was Uriel’s brother who had been cut off, it was also his second in command, and one of his best warriors. He had to at least attempt a rescue, if only to confirm that his brother had died. A group of legionnaires had attempted a charge on one flank, and Uriel was with them before anyone could convince him otherwise. He would never ask any of his soldiers to do anything he himself was not ready to do, so he had to join his men at the point of the charge.

Though it was only a few minutes, the frenzy of combat seemed like hours as Uriel and his soldiers fought through the swarm. All around them, the scorched bodies of Draconis warriors only confirmed what Uriel feared, and yet as he cut closer to his brother’s last location, he heard a familiar cursing. Pushing on with renewed fervour, the Draconis managed to push through the wasps, just as the swarm finally broke under the combined force of the Talon ground forces, and the hellish rain of orbital munitions absorbing their reserves. The sight that confronted Uriel as the wasps cleared away would haunt him for the rest of his life.

In the ruins of a barricade circle, his brother was lying wounded amongst the bodies of his comrades. He was still screaming, cursing in High Dracid as the last remnants of a nanite swarm still tore into his flesh. Half his body was gone, the points of contact reduced to a thick mush. Medics were called to him, and they managed to deactivate the nanomachines before too much life-threatening injury was done. Even as his wounded brother was being taken away by the medics, the mecha-wasps had rallied for another assault. Uriel resigned himself to a long day’s war, and rejoined the men in the line. Changing out the fusion core in his rifle, Uriel was ready for the next assault, but the images of this conflict would mark his psyche for all his days to come.

Kaios Non-Canon
Larnus felt his gut clench. He wasn’t afraid, not in a situation like this, but the scene still made him feel… like something was wrong. Two guards were escorting a bound figure to a jail cell. Commendations were already flooding his office for the capture, of one of the most potentially dangerous individuals in the entire segmentum. And yet, Larnus couldn’t help but notice something was amiss- he was smiling. The bastard hadn’t stopped smiling from the moment Larnus had finally put a bullet in his head and captured him. The pistol hadn’t had enough power to kill him, but it destroyed one of his eyes and ruined part of his face, up to the ear. The medics had stabilized his condition, but their anaesthetics hadn’t had any effect. The thought made Larnus shudder- Kaios had taken a shot to the head, endured surgery fully conscious and without painkillers, and he was smiling. Something was inexplicably wrong about this situation, and Larnus had no idea what the hell was going on.

Kaios’ ship had fled with all surviving hands after their attempt to assist an anti-Draconis coup was repelled by Talon Navy forces. Through some ridiculous combination of dumb luck and circumstance, Kaios had managed to disarm Larnus and cut off his pursuers. He had nearly boarded his escape craft, but Larnus seized a weapon from a local soldier and fired as the Admiral turned for a parting quip. The transport was forced off with heavy weapons fire, and Kaios was brought into custody. And the whole time, he was smiling as if it was all part of the plan. What scared Larnus was that, knowing Kaios, it probably was.

It didn’t take long for Kaios to get the death sentence handed down, neither him not Larnus were surprised when it was decided that he’d be executed the next day. The Draconis couldn’t help but wonder what had the mercenary in such high spirits, then. Surely a man who was guaranteed to be dead the next day would be a little more resigned? Still, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to go over and check on the prisoner. His only question was simple: Why are you still smiling? The answer put him somewhere between thinking Kaios was insane, and simple terror: Because you think it’s over.

That night, Larnus slept poorly. He’d been over every last element of the execution thrice, to make sure nothing had been tampered with, and that everything would go according to plan. He wanted to shoot Kaios then and there, and be done with it, but he had to keep up appearances for the sake of the event’s imagery. The capture and execution of Admiral Kaios would be the talking point of Draconis society for weeks, possibly months, and would no doubt bring the Imperium, and both Larnus and Uriel, great acclaim from the rest of the Commonwealth. It was one of those damnable situations where everything had to be done right and proper, or it could be twisted by rival houses, and rival Empires, to imply that the Imperium was too scared or too incompetent to deal with a single mercenary they’d already captured.

Kaios, on the other hand, spent the night laughing his head off. He laughed for nearly an hour straight, until the watch captain, an alien native to the world, finally walked in and hit him over the head to shut him up. Kaios kept chuckling, but couldn’t help himself as he lectured the captain. “You really think a war is one by a single great stroke? That one simple action can turn the tide of an entire conflict? Hah, you’re more naïve than I thought you were! Battles are decided by hundreds, or thousands, or tens of thousands of tiny strokes, little fluctuations that build up onto each other to make it look like it all happened in one go. Capturing me won’t solve anything, and the Draconis know that. They’re just not going to admit it.”

The captain relayed what Kaios had said to Larnus early the next morning, hoping the old Draconis could make something from it. “As far as I’m concerned, he’s a decent spaceship pilot with too much luck for his own good. There’s no way he could have some master plan to get him out of this situation. And even if he has some sort of plan in the works, we’ll shut it down in a heartbeat.” Larnus watched as the guards marched Kaios out onto the parade ground, where the firing squad was already lined up.

Even as he was stood in place, and locked in by a containment field, Kaios still had that damnable smile plastered across his face. For him, everything was just now coming together, and there was no way Larnus could stop it in its entirety.

Stage one: The guards fire. Outcome one: All chambers are duds, move on. Outcome two: Some aren’t duds, but they backfire anyway. Move on.

Stage two: The guards are disoriented, and begin to replace the chambers. Outcome one: The firing line physically leaves to collect new chambers. Preferable. Outcome two: The line has new chambers brought to them. Not preferable, but workable.

Stage three: The guards get their new chambers, and they’re distracted as they reload. The engineer I bribed has already weakened the struts on that observation tower, and it’s nearly ready to fall. Outcome one: The guards are well away from me, the tower falls, and nobody is looking at me. Outcome two: The guards are near me, the tower falls, they’re still distracted.

Stage four: The guards are distracted. Localised blackout, due to an ‘accident’ at the power plant. The containment field shuts down for long enough for me to get out of it, the lights go out. Outcome one: I get away undetected. Preferable. Outcome two: I get away, but they see me. Workable.

Stage five: The guards pursue me. Timed charges blast a hole in the wall, smaller charge blasts a hole in the storm drain. Outcome one: The guards think I’m headed for the hole in the wall, and try to cut me off. Outcome two: The guards think I’m heading for the wall, and try to pin me down with fire. Either way, I get into the storm drain.

Stage six: I’m in the drain, and being pursued. Outcome one: Em planted the breathing gear, like I told her to. Outcome two: She didn’t. Either way, I swim out the storm drain and into the bay. I can always get the eye wound treated afterwards, screw infection.

Stage seven: I’m in the bay, being pursued. Situation one: There’s a submarine waiting for me, crewed by the Reavers. Situation two: There isn’t, and I steal a ship. Either way, I’m out of weapons range, and on my way to rendezvous.

Stage eight: I reach the submerged dropship, get on board, and bugger off. Outcome one: The Star Reaver comes in, in a blaze of glory, grabs me, we bugger off, and I hit Jamaya for being an idiot. Outcome two: I get picked up by that trade vessel en route to Wild Space, which then gets ‘attacked’ by the Star Reavers. Either way, the Imperium looks stupid, Larnus gets pissed off, and I get to laugh my way into surgery while this eye gets replaced. Good times.

That was the plan, at least. What happened was this: As the guards went to fire, five of the six were indeed duds. The sixth overloaded and went critical, causing the firing squad to throw their weapons away and run. Too bad they weren’t Draconis. Ah well, works even better. The watchtower, rigged to explode on one side, came crashing down, scattering the soldiers on the parade ground. They were just local militia, still well trained soldiers, but unprepared for things like this. The Draconis on the rooftop, however, were unfazed. That couldn’t have gone better if I planned it myself. Oh wait, I did.

Like clockwork, the power plant went out. The lights on the parade ground shut off, and the containment field burned out. The Draconis had hand-held spotlights sweeping the area, and Larnus had already rallied the local soldiers to search the place. The blast in the fortress wall completely drowned out, and obscured, the blast in the tiny storm drain nearby. This is gonna suck worse than a slaghead at a waste plant, but hell, easiest way out. The dust from the explosion was still in the air, but the Draconis had already switched to alternate vision modes to find the running Admiral. He was making a line straight for the wall, but the debris was obscuring their fire, so they concentrated on laying down suppression on the breach.

Larnus was already ordering troops to secure the exterior of the fortress, when the signal came through that Kaios had ignored the breach and dived into a stormwater drain. The Draconis were laughing, convinced Kaios would drown on the way out, but Larnus knew that Celest, the mercenary’s homeworld, was largely water, and that water was far more toxic than what was pumping down that stormwater drain. Kaios wouldn’t have a problem surviving, so he passed on the command for the local forces to comb the bay with naval craft. By the time they were out in the bay and searching, Kaios had already climbed into the hatch on the submarine, and he was well and truly clear of the land before his signal was picked up. Unsurprising, I really figured I would have been caught beforehand.

The PDF pursuing him could only look on in shock as a heavily armed dropship burst out of the water, and an empty submarine drifted to the surface. The dropship slipped into the signal shadow of the larger freighter, and boarded without being noticed. It would be a week before Kaios was picked up by the Reaver again, but he had given the DI the slip once again, and really pissed off Larnus while he was at it.

Hel' Goes Peaceful
Many know the Blademaster by his fearsome reputation as a swordsman, yet the common misconception is that he is only a warrior, that he is not involved in the strategy of the battle. This is a gross mistake, as Hel’Bre’K is one of the premier tactical minds in the universe at large, and his prowess at leading the Legions of the Fordanta in both combat and strategy is well known amongst the citizens of the Empire.

The war machine of the Fordanta is not, as most would expect, a formal army, and its elements were not intended to complement each other. Each Warrior discipline teaches its Guildsmen and women a specific style of combat, with no heed for how these styles interact with each other. While the commander of a regular army can rely on his infantry to provide support for the armour, the armour to clear the way for the infantry, and the numerous other elements of the force to all work instinctively together, their duties meshing seamlessly, a Fordan commander must balance out dozens of roles, often competing for the same duty. This is a difficult concept for many Fordanta, the majority of their race being single goal-oriented, and as such very few Fordanta ever rise to the ranks of Marshal or above. Hel’Bre’K’s great art is to understand the subtle nuances of the army as clearly as he understands the nuances of a blade, and he wields each imperfection in the battle line as a weapon in itself.

This talent is evident in every battle he directs, as every element of the army is assigned simple tasks, which together bring about the enemy’s destruction. To the untrained eye, this simplicity appears to be the hallmark of an inferior commander, however the wise warrior knows that the simplest plans are the most likely to succeed. Hel’Bre’K goes to war with clear objectives, and a clear plan to complete those objectives. Many are the foes of the Fordanta who have fallen before Hel’s implacable advance, their complex battle plans reduced to nothing.

The world of Vol’Narol would soon enough learn to fear the Blademaster’s wrath. The Fordanta were willing to allow anyone to live in the Ko’Sa’Va galaxy, so long as they upheld the Concordat created by the Council of Blades, to ensure lasting peace in the galaxy. Hundreds of worlds, Vol’Narol included, initially rallied against this Concordat, choosing to continue their own traditions. In particular, the Theocracy ruling Vol’Narol began a zealous genocide of local star systems. This demanded an immediate response, as many of the planets in the firing line were protectorates of the Fordanta. Also, many other planets that had rejected the Concordat were using Vol’Narol’s existence as proof that the Fordanta were unable to enforce their rules. Seeing an opportunity to both protect the Empire, and to strike fear into its foes, Hel’Bre’K led ten full Legions to the planet, intending to swiftly and efficiently bring the Theocracy down.

The Theocracy refused to listen to Hel’s envoy, by now convinced of their own lie that the Fordanta were impotent. Although their great cathedral was not permitted to be armed or armoured in any way, they were convinced that the significant weapons emplacements stationed around the cathedral would be enough to hold off any Fordan dropships. They did not expect Void phase-gates to blossom into life in the many courtyards of the enormous cathedral, and barely had time to react before fifty thousand troops had fully emerged, and assaulted every angle of the cathedral.

Common Fordan doctrine is to separate Legions into Centuries of one hundred, and then combine those Centuries to form Battles. These Battles could consist of warriors from dozens of different disciplines, and could operate autonomously under the direction of their Marshal. As such, the majority of the Battles were Si’La’Ko disciples, their heavy armour and energized shields defying the brunt of the firepower that the enemy could direct to them. Planetary defense forces had to be called in from outside of the compound, and could not fire heavy weaponry for risk of undue damage to the cathedral. Hel’Bre’K had planned this carefully, and the front lines of Knights planted their shields firmly on the ground, their energy barriers overlapping to form an impenetrable barrier. Small arms fire skittered across the glowing fields, the Fordanta behind preserved by their enemy’s own limitations.

From behind the lines, dedicated packs of Hunters and Ri’So’Va assassins scoured the building, searching for the central chamber which held the Theocrats in command of the city. They were under specific orders from Hel’Bre’K himself to leave any inside unharmed, and so the Hunters’ stasis shackles saw as much use as the assassins’ knives. Still, there was the important matter of disabling the guards in the first place, a goal which the Ri’So’Va achieved quite easily with their bare hands. The planets’ inhabitants were barely half the size of a hulking Fordanta, and their low-gravity world had left them weak by the standards of planet Forda.

As the defense forces closed in on the Knights’ shield-walls, the Hunters attached to the various Battles in the line employed an experimental form of ammunition. The dart-like projectiles imbedded themselves in the armour of high-ranking individuals, then served as locator beacons for the Void phase-relays on the cruisers above. The PDF were losing officers, and fast, those hit with the darts quickly torn between dimensions and into captivity aboard the Fordan vessels. The War Artisans embedded in the ranks fired volleys of hallucinogenic grenades into the oncoming ranks, the already scared troops utterly horrified by visions of their worst nightmares. Finally, as the troops began to attack each other in desperation, the shieldwall parted, allowing further Si’La’Ko knights, as well as the small corps d’elite of Praetorians accompanying each Battle, to close with the PDF wielding electrified stun-batons. The forces were quickly subdued and contained, leaving Hel’ free to dedicate his warriors to guarding all exits to the cathedral. Some of the less armoured warriors chose to clamber up the cathedral walls, barricading the balconies as well. Content that the cathedral was secure, and that there would be no interference, Hel’ led a Century of Praetoria inside, to confront the Theocrats personally, and bring them under the Concordat.

The assassins Hel’ had sent in previously informed him that the council had barricaded themselves inside the chamber, and had a contingent of armed guards. Infiltration of the area was impossible without significant damage, as the room was designed so that the door was the only possible access. With few options at hand, Hel’ settled on ordering the Artisans to dismantle the heavy lock that sealed the door. This invasion was a message, not a massacre, and there was no reason to cause undue harm to a religious site. The artisans carefully dismantled the lock, with a hover drone documenting the entire process. As soon as the door creaked open, the guards inside fired a shoulder-mounted missile into the breach. The Fordanta leapt clear, but the hover drone dutifully recorded the missile firing, and then broadcast it across the entire planetary news network. The morale of the people was shattered in a heartbeat: these aliens had come not to destroy them and their faith, as the Theocrats had told them, but they had come to prevent a genocide after all. They had even had the respect to not kill a single individual, and had dismantled the lock on the door, whereas the council, who were supposed to represent their faith, had ordered heavy weapons be fired – in the heart of the cathedral.

A group of Artisans, who were away from the blast, fired a volley of hallucinogen grenades, then methodically shot down the guards with stun rounds. The room was clear in moments, and Hel’ strode purposefully into the room, unarmed. He calmly repeated the demands of the Empire, and displayed footage of a mass civil riot brewing outside the cathedral, which the Si’La’Ko knights were attempting to hold back. Even so, in full view of their once adoring people, the councilors drew concealed handguns, and tried to shoot down the old Fordan. His expression, and his body hardly shifting, he brought up his gauntlet, and projected an energy field that stopped the bullets in their tracks, sending them ricocheting off. The councilors continued to fire, wasting their shots as the crowd outside grew to a fever pitch. Resigned to the fact that he could not sway these zealots, Hel’ ordered them bound and taken captive, to stand trial under both local and Imperial law.

When the recorded footage was made public, the Theocracy was shamed, and any systems who had once associated with them were publicly denounced. Dozens of systems, upon witnessing their champions be humbled so quickly and efficiently, immediately surrendered and joined the Empire, signing the Concordat. Hel’Bre’K came away from the battle with a smile, knowing that not a single soul had departed in the entire affair.

Reflection
The quiet meadows glistened in the early sun, delicate fronds waving to and fro in the wind. Little furry creatures scampered about, birds wheeled in the air. The sounds of nature surrounded a single figure, kneeling on a hilltop overlooking the site. As if hearing an order from a being unseen and unheard to all others, the figure rose to his feet. His heart pumped to the beat of great drums, the wailing howl of hunting horns urging him onwards. A wooden training spear slid clean from a quiver on his back, as he hefted the great shield covering his left arm. He felt an army form up around him, soldiers of mist and memory, trapped in the eternal war of history. The drum beats stopped, and as one, the spectral army and its living legacy marched into the fray.

His eyes no longer saw the pure meadow, now they saw a ruined wasteland. The trees burned, the earth was churned into mud. Across the clearing, another army appeared, carrying great clubs and jagged knives, and wearing the skins and bones of great predators. The ghostly army silently urged their leader to order them to war. Almost by instinct, his hand flew up to bar their passage. Though their enemies were barbarians, he was not, and he saluted the enemy commander in challenge. The two leaders drew close, spear and shield facing mace and knife. He was unarmoured, save for the skull of a beast slung over his shoulder, and the leather tunic he wore about his waist. His enemy was nude bar a tooth necklace hung about his neck, and a trophy belt loose over his hips. The two warriors faced each other down, circling, waiting for the other to misstep, or miss a detail. A branch snapped, and it was enough.

Crude mace glanced off of rough shield, the wood splintering under the blow of the stone head. The spear came up, drawing blood along the rips. A flash of a knife, and red trickled down underneath the skull pauldron. The two whirled into action, trading blow for blow, striking, parrying and dodging to the best of their ability. The shield was battered and broken, falling apart in halves. The knife was lost, knocked free by a precise lunge through the hand. A raging headbutt saw the figure slump back, shaking off the injury in time to see a wild leap, and a heavy club swinging towards his now unguarded head.

The blow never connected, as the spear rose up, lancing the foe through the gut and working its way up to the lung. The coarse stone head burst out past the ribs, as the brute’s weight forced the two into a final deadly embrace. The figure pulled himself off the ground, and looked around. He saw fear in the eyes of his enemy, inspiration gleaming from those of his own men. He heard lamentation and exaltation in equal measure, warcries and insults hurled across the wasteland. The figure raised his hand, fingers open. When he closed them, his enemy would die. He had come far, and slain many, to reach this day, and he would not be denied. The hand closed into a fist.

The burning trees exploded as lumbering beasts stampeded through the battlefield, into the lines of the savages in front of the figure and his ethereal army. The creatures passed, to be followed by wraiths riding great and ghostly beasts, their spears and tusks tearing flesh and rending armour. As the enemy was thrown into disarray, they made a mad dash at the wounded figure, hoping to destroy him once and for all. At that, the spectral armies clashed in silence, as to the living eye the figure fought alone. Lost in the dance of death, the figure moved like quicksilver, the spear carving great arcs through the air as he swept it across enemies unknown, punctuated by careful thrusts and elegant parries. Within his own domain, the warrior moved and fought with the flow of the battle, advancing where the enemy collapsed, and falling back when they rallied and pushed the assault. He was dimly aware of officers shouting orders, calling groups forwards or back, to attack or withdraw, to strike close with spear and blade or cut their enemy down from afar with javelins. He found himself uttering these orders moments before they were given, as this was his army, and his to command.

This unseen battle raged for over an hour, neither side giving in, until steadily the sides were worn down to mere shells of what they once were. And still, the figure proved victorious, his enemy broken and beaten. At that, the memory faded, and the burning wasteland returned to the soft meadow. Something squealed nearby, and the figure bent down to find its source. A little creature lay prone on the ground, having been struck on the side by the figure’s spear. A momentary burst of pity and remorse overcame the figure, who picked up the mewling little creature and set it to rest in the bough of a tree. The strike would not kill it, and the tree would at least keep the predators away until it regained its strength.

“So, that is what we once were.”

And with that, the figure turned to walk home, the rune of the Ce’So’Va bloodline flying proudly on his cloak.

Ad Finem Stoof
Code up damn u

Status #sporewikiX #sporeX AdmiralPandaX HachiX #AdFinemStoofX WormyX XhoX (no topic set) [06:09] == GreatDestroyer12 [70ca8117@gateway/web/qwebirc/irc.wikia.com/ip.112.202.129.23] has joined #AdFinemStoof [06:09] == AdmiralPanda [79def1f0@gateway/web/freenode/ip.121.222.241.240] has joined #AdFinemStoof [06:10]  Silly destroyer, you put a ? on the end of the last one -.- [06:10]  hurhur [06:11]  at this point i realize Ecoraptor has been editing my paeges with non canon entries [06:11]  i'll just talk to him about it later [06:11]  where do we start [06:11]  Well, do you guys want to do that ship combat I was talking about last time/ [06:12]  ? [06:12]  ?* [06:12] <@Hachi> Heh, if you want. Rozarel gon be rollin and people be hatin though [06:12]  sure [06:12]  when did we get to ship combat though [06:12]  iirc you were talking about the planning of the operation last time we did this [06:14]  or did we actaully start the naval battle? [06:15]  We were just talking about it [06:16]  ahh i see [06:16]  let's begin? [06:17]  Reports streamed in from the galactic west, near to the centre of Iron Systems Federation territory, of another attack. [06:18] <AdmiralPanda> The Iron Order had, to some extent, contained the damage, however their outlying worlds, and the protectorates nearby, were vulnerable. [06:20] <AdmiralPanda> In response to their calls for aid, Hel'Bre'K sent word out to his allies, and readied a fleet of ships to reinforce the Order, and attempt to destabilise the machines in this area. [06:20] <GreatDestroyer12> The Dominatus gathered in their flagship [06:21] <@Hachi> Rozarel and his forces also gathered, ready to initiate combat. [06:21] <GreatDestroyer12> Traktuv did not requisition any more aid as he did not want to drag more of the Tyranny into what looked to be an unwinnable mess [06:21] <Monet> *An ITN worfleet arrived at hel's location and Eridarus stood at the helm* [06:25] <Monet> Eridarus - We came as per your request, blademaster. [06:26] <@Hachi> Rozarel - Hey Eridarus, Hel'! Traktor! [06:26] <GreatDestroyer12> Traktuv - My name is Traktuv, not Traktor [06:26] <@Hachi> Rozarel - Oh, I just thought it was similar. [06:26] <AdmiralPanda> Hel'Bre'K - I appreciate it. The Iron Order is a formidable force, but even they are struggling to bear the brunt of this force. We cannot afford to lose them. [06:27] <Monet> Eridarus - Understood. [06:27] <@Hachi> Rozarel - Well I dunno how much help I'm gonna be of here, you guys are all older than me... [06:27] <GreatDestroyer12> Traktuv - That is the directive, what is the battleplan? [06:29] <AdmiralPanda> Hel'Bre'K - The Order has given reports of an alien ship similar in configuration to the vessel that left Veras II after Ja'Dan's death. [06:30] <AdmiralPanda> Hel'Bre'K - Its energy signatures were compatible with Void technology. This means that this one ship could potentially be used as a relay to phase other vessels into battle. [06:31] <AdmiralPanda> Hel'Bre'K - Our primary goal is, of course, to reinforce the Order, and prevent this attack from spreading further. However, if we have the opportunity, we must attempt to disable this vessel. [06:32] <Monet> Eridarus - Any thoughts on how we may be able to? [06:33] <AdmiralPanda> Hel'Bre'K - If their Void technology is any similar to ours, which it should be, the simplest method would be destabilising the phase core. The interdimensional rift inside will do the rest. [06:39] <GreatDestroyer12> Traktuv - How would we destabilize the phase core? [06:40] <@Hachi> Rozarel - How about we plant a bomb near it? The explosion would be small but because the atmosphere is made of radiation it wi-- Oh wait, wrong movie. [06:42] <Monet> (lol) [06:43] <AdmiralPanda> Hel' - Typically speaking, any breach in the containment field should suffice. A sufficiently powerful shot will be sufficient, the Order has such weaponry. However, the machines are not likely to give us a chance to fire. [06:44] <GreatDestroyer12> Traktuv - Very well, let us commence? [06:44] <Monet> Eridarus - We can provide a distraction. [06:46] <AdmiralPanda> Hel'Bre'K - Remember, the machines are capable of phasing directly into any space physically large enough to hold them. Be on your guard, they may attempt boarding actions. [06:47] <GreatDestroyer12> Traktuv - Affirmed [06:47] <@Hachi> Rozarel - Don't worry, nobody ever goes into my room. Except one Dominatus who was sent as a practical joke. [06:47] <GreatDestroyer12> (gonna introduce Medusa's bf at some point) [06:48] <@Hachi> Rozarel - *looks to Traktuv* Yes, Traktuv. I happen to know it was some of your guys who tried to make me feel stupid. [06:48] <Monet> Eridarus - *smirks* Was it difficult for them? [06:48] <GreatDestroyer12> Traktuv - That must have been one of Teslon's *looks to Teslon* [06:48] <AdmiralPanda> Hel'Bre'K - I will refrain from asking. Captain, generate phase-fields. [06:49] <AdmiralPanda> The Fordan vessels form up, as the Triumphant generates a phase-field for the other ships to pass through. [06:49] <GreatDestroyer12> The Kraken passes through the phasefield, its gargantuan form crackling with eldritch energies as it interacts with Void technology [06:50] <@Hachi> Rozarel's ship passes through the phasefield alongside his many other ships. [06:51] <Monet> Eridarus' fleet passed though the phase-field, with his ship heading though first. [06:55] <AdmiralPanda> The phase field exits outside an ISF forgeworld, the massive satellite orbited by dozens of Order ships. [06:56] <AdmiralPanda> Magos - Greetings, Blademaster. Enemy contacts confirmed within sector 13, local space. Paladin units currently containing situation. Losses beginning to accumulate. [06:59] <Monet> Eridarus - Then surely we must make haste to support them. [07:01] <AdmiralPanda> Hel'Bre'K - *Switches to Old Fordan, and has a rapid-fire conversation with the Captain* (Fordanta speak REALLY fast in old Fordan) The ship has been joined by three others, as before. However, one is significantly larger. [07:02] <AdmiralPanda> Hel'Bre'K - We must be cautious, but we cannot allow the Federation to lose too many more troops. *to the Magos* Last I heard, the Final Word had just completed a refitting, is that correct? [07:05] <AdmiralPanda> Magos - Battlecruiser designation Final Word is currently operational. Will you require its services? [07:06] <AdmiralPanda> Hel'Bre'K - We will need sufficient firepower to breach the ships' defences. The Final Word is our most likely solution. [07:12] <AdmiralPanda> Magos - The Final Word is yours, Blademaster. [07:13] <@Hachi> Rozarel - That guy talks faster than my old maths teacher. [07:14] <GreatDestroyer12> Teslon *in High Demogorgon* - He can't possibly be stupid at maths as well [07:14] <GreatDestroyer12> (that waas @Traktuv) [07:17] <AdmiralPanda> Hel'Bre'K - Bring your ships to the ready, we will likely be engaged as soon as we leave the phase field. [07:17] <Monet> Eridarus - Understood Blademaster. [07:17] <GreatDestroyer12> Traktuv - Understood [07:17] <@Hachi> Rozarel - Gotcha, old man. [07:20] <AdmiralPanda> The Final Word, and a group of Order vessels pulled alongside the Fordan ships. A phase-field bloomed, this time a bright blue. Hel' visibly tensed, and the Order vessels brought all their weapons forward. [07:20] <AdmiralPanda> Hel'Bre'K - That phase-field is not ours! Ready for battle! [07:20] <Monet> Eridarus - 410th fleet, full alert - incoming hostiles! [07:21] <GreatDestroyer12> The Dominatus construct readied it's massiveh yperlasers [07:21] <@Hachi> Rozarel and his fleet readied their enhanced and incredibly powerful Shidium weaponry. [07:22] <AdmiralPanda> Paladin - Final Word readied to fire. No energy shielding detected. Main weapon charged... fire. [07:23] <GreatDestroyer12> Traktuv - All armaments prepared and ready to Fire! [07:23] <AdmiralPanda> The primary cannon on the Final Word, a gun taking up a full third of the ship's mass, spat out a massive shell, travelling at close to light speed. The shot was dead on course, until a small phase-field bloomed, and the shot passed out on the other side [07:23] <AdmiralPanda> of the vessel. [07:24] <AdmiralPanda> Paladin - Shot... ineffective. Enemy is employing localised Void technology as a defensive shield. [07:24] <@Hachi> Rozarel - Huh, that's not good. [07:24] <GreatDestroyer12> Traktuv - Permission to fire? [07:24] <Monet> Eridarus - Not good at all. [07:24] <AdmiralPanda> Hel'Bre'K - All ships, fan out and fire at will. [07:26] <@Hachi> Rozarel and his ships began to depart the area, without saying a word. [07:26] <Monet> Eridarus - All ships fire at will. Capitals open beam weapons. [07:26] <GreatDestroyer12> The Kraken merely designed a year earlier, started firing it's still prototype hypermatter based weaponry at it's enemy [07:26] <AdmiralPanda> The Fordan ships spread out, turning their weaponry on the ship's hull. The energy projectiles melted the vessel's hull, which then reformed as soon as the barrages ended. [07:26] <Monet> Eridarus - *sees Rozarel's fleet departing* That filthy coward! [07:27] <AdmiralPanda> Solid projectiles passed through phase-fields, while the hull regenerated damage from energy weapons. Nodes began to appear on the hull, as energy surges were detected emanating from its core. [07:27] <GreatDestroyer12> A concentrated beam of the Krakens raw power lanced through the vessel only to have the damage almost effortlessly repaired [07:27] <AdmiralPanda> Hel'Bre'K - Val'Na! *Curses for a bit in Old Fordan* Ignore the traitor, he will be brought to justice later. The ship is building energy. [07:28] <Monet> Eridarus - Flotillas five to ten, open fire with ion cannons and drain that thing dry. [07:29] <GreatDestroyer12> Traktuv - Change the firing algorithms to fire in saturation blasts that it can't regenerate from! [07:29] <GreatDestroyer12> At that the satuaration blasts covered the enemy ship, stripping thin layers off it while other waves of the fire followed [07:30] <AdmiralPanda> The nodes on the ship's hull reformed into weapon batteries, which then charged up. [07:31] <AdmiralPanda> Hel'Bre'K - Incoming fire, brace! *glances at a screen* We have been boarded! Praetoria, on me! [07:31] <GreatDestroyer12> (is the Kraken boarded as well?) [07:32] <AdmiralPanda> (They all are, they're getting boarded by troops phasing in :P) [07:32] <GreatDestroyer12> Traktuv - Damnit, all Dominatus, destroy them all~ [07:33] <GreatDestroyer12> There was no time for long range combat inside the confines of the ship because of the caliberr of Dominatus weapons as the honor guards fought the sentinels, smiting them with their massive melee weapons [07:34] <Monet> Eridarus - Sensors detect hostiles materialising on all decks. marine contingents arm up and open fire. [07:34] <GreatDestroyer12> Dominatus Onis and Balors fired eldritch lightning that ripped asunder many of the sentinels [07:34] <GreatDestroyer12> All the while, the saturation fire continued pouring onto the sentinel ship [07:34] <AdmiralPanda> Hel'Bre'K led a Century of Praetoria into the boarded areas of the ship. [07:35] <Monet> Imperial marine units marched ito boarded areas of the ships. Upon seeing the Sentinels they opened fire with fusion guns to tear the bodies apart. [07:35] <AdmiralPanda> Hel'Bre'K - *Via comms* Captain, learn how the vessel is phasing shots around its hull. [07:36] <AdmiralPanda> Captain - Localised phase-fields, as if it was moving small fighters. Why, Blademaster? It cannot be countered. [07:37] <AdmiralPanda> Hel'Bre'K - *busy chopping into a group of machines* Final Word, recharge your main cannon. Captain, the shot is the fighter, the phase core is the hangar. Make it happen. [07:38] <AdmiralPanda> Paladin - Five minutes until Final Word is ready to fire. [07:38] <GreatDestroyer12> The saturation fire continues flaying the layers of the sentinel ship off, but not nearly at a fast enough rate [07:39] <AdmiralPanda> Captain - Additional ships incoming! One is at a weight-class twice the other vessels. [07:40] <@Hachi> Suddenly, a rain of Shidium fire is unleashed upon the enemy fleet from Rozarel's fleet, who had managed to get near enough behind the enemy. [07:40] <Monet> Eridarus - Capitals support the Dominatus fleets and-- what!? [07:40] <@Hachi> Rozarel - We have them surrounded! Charge all hyper weapons and unleash a rain of Shidium fire upon the machines! [07:42] <AdmiralPanda> Hel'Bre'K - Boarding actions suppressed, preparing to bring ships around- is that the Zazane? [07:42] <@Hachi> Rozarel - Hmm? Why do you look surprised? [07:42] <AdmiralPanda> Captain - Enemy ships have charged weapons, incoming fire! [07:43] <AdmiralPanda> The ships open fire, the blasts severely draining the shields of every ship in the fleet. Some of the Fordan escorts take hull damage, and are forced to retreat. [07:44] <GreatDestroyer12> Traktuv - What the hell was that, i thought Installation 2 gave us better shields~ [07:44] <GreatDestroyer12> Traktuv - Return fire! [07:45] <Monet> Eridarus - Divert power to shields. [07:45] <@Hachi> Rozarel's fleet continued to fire their powerful Shidium weapons upon the enemy from behind, meaning some of the forces would need to redirect from the front to the back, allowing the others to suffer less damage. [07:45] <AdmiralPanda> Hel'Bre'K - Final Word, open fire! [07:46] <AdmiralPanda> Captain - Blademaster, the main vessel has opened a space inside its hull. Still determining its purpose, but this may be problematic. [07:49] <AdmiralPanda> Hel'Bre'K - I know its purpose. Final Word, you have your orders! Fire! [07:49] <AdmiralPanda> The Final Word fires again, the shot was caught at the end of the barrel by a Fordan phase-field, which opened up within the phase core of the lead vessel. At first, it appeared as if the shot had done nothing. [07:50] <@Hachi> Rozarel - Uhh...Hel', old guy, I think you may have missed... [07:52] <Monet> Eridarus - Something tells me perhaps not. [07:53] <AdmiralPanda> The other two ships back away from the point ship, which for a moment completely powers down. Then, a blast of energy rips the ship apart, as if the shot had hit dead-on in the first place. [07:53] <AdmiralPanda> Hel'Bre'K - And now you understand why I do not approve of the use of such energy sources in Fordan vessels. [07:55] <@Hachi> Rozarel - Huh, that's impressive. And I'm sorry if I made you guys think I was retreating... [07:57] <GreatDestroyer12> Traktuv *in High Demogorgon* - Angrus, (a sovereign executor), your girlfriend was right in making an alliance with these people! [07:58] <AdmiralPanda> Hel'Bre'K - Repeat the technique, use phase-fields to project the heavier fire from our allies into the phase cores of the other ships. [07:58] <GreatDestroyer12> Traktuv - Kraken firing in 3 seconds with fully concentrated blast of hyperlasers, ready the phasefields [07:58] <GreatDestroyer12> Traktuv - 3 [07:58] <GreatDestroyer12> Traktuv 2 [07:58] <GreatDestroyer12> Traktuv - 1 [07:58] <Monet> Eridarus - All ships prepare to fire. [07:59] <GreatDestroyer12> Traktuv - Fire! [07:59] <AdmiralPanda> With that, Hel'Bre'K activated his personal Void Key, phasing out of reality. The Fordan vessels registered a small peak of Void energy within the hollow area that had opened up in the main ship. [08:00] <@Hachi> Rozarel and his fleet carried on their assault, assaulting the machines from behind with no mercy. [08:00] <AdmiralPanda> With their shots directed into the heart of the smaller ships, the allied fleet was able to critically damage the vessels, destroying them utterly. The larger ship generated a phase-field in front of it, preparing to flee the battle. [08:01] <Monet> Eridarus - Hmm, engage an interdiction field and stop that thing from running. [08:01] <GreatDestroyer12> (I'm pretty sure it can avoid interdiction b/c it uses void stoof) [08:02] <AdmiralPanda> Captain - Perhaps now would be the right time to point out the Blademaster is currently on that vessel. We cannot allow it to flee. [08:03] <@Hachi> Rozarel - *he sighs and then stands* Men, teleport to the nearest ships. I'm gonna nudge it. [08:04] <Monet> (Eridarus wants to test a theory) [08:04] <GreatDestroyer12> At that, the Kraken performed one of it's more insidious functions, creating a massive gravity well at it's point [08:04] <Monet> (Also creating a gravity well is what an imperial interdiction gielddoes) [08:05] <Monet> field does* [08:06] <@Hachi> Rozarel's ship begins to move towards the main ship, planning to get in front of it. [08:07] <@Hachi> Rozarel - If that thing collides, they're gonna have to deal with several pure Shidium energy cores exploding. And as my people know, pure Shidium cores are very, VERY destructive. [08:09] <AdmiralPanda> Hel'Bre'K phased back in to the bridge of the Triumphant. A look of concern was evident across his face, but otherwise he was unaffected. [08:09] <AdmiralPanda> Hel'Bre'K - Let it go. [08:09] <@Hachi> Rozarel - Huh, why? [08:10] <AdmiralPanda> Hel'Bre'K - You cannot destroy it either way. If your ships are in its path, it will go through them. [08:10] <@Hachi> Rozarel - I guess...that's a fair point. [08:10] <@Hachi> Rozarel's ship comes to a halt. [08:14] <AdmiralPanda> Hel'Bre'K - This battle has ended. Unfortunately, more are to come. [08:15] <GreatDestroyer12> (i thought the allies would get raped in this battle haha) [08:15] <@Hachi> Rozarel - I could've had them... [08:16] <AdmiralPanda> (They probably would have if I had more time :P Still, we kinda DID just point out that the ships can completely ignore allied firepower as long as there aren't Fordan ships around cheating :P) [08:17] <GreatDestroyer12> (hur) [08:17] <AdmiralPanda> Hel'Bre'K - There is more wisdom in surviving the battle than there is in destroying your enemy. If you continue to survive every battle, eventually your enemy will be defeated simply because you can not. [08:17] <@Hachi> Rozarel - Sounds like something Crispy would say, I like that. [08:24] == AdmiralPanda_ [79def1f0@gateway/web/freenode/ip.121.222.241.240] has joined #AdFinemStoof [08:24] <AdmiralPanda_> Ok, what was the last thing I said? [08:25] <@Hachi> Rozarel - Sounds like something Crispy would say, I like that. [08:25] <GreatDestroyer12> [08:17] <AdmiralPanda> Hel'Bre'K - There is more wisdom in surviving the battle than there is in destroying your enemy. If you continue to survive every battle, eventually your enemy will be defeated simply because you can not. [08:25] <@Hachi> (in response to Hel) [08:25] <GreatDestroyer12> hel said that before roz [08:25] == AdmiralPanda [79def1f0@gateway/web/freenode/ip.121.222.241.240] has quit [Ping timeout: 245 seconds] [08:26] <AdmiralPanda_> Anything else said after that? [08:26] <GreatDestroyer12> no [08:26] <GreatDestroyer12> i'm thinking of killing off traktuv off at some point [08:26] <GreatDestroyer12> to give medusa's bf some airtime [08:27] <AdmiralPanda_> There's a perfectly good thermic claymore hanging around somewhere if needed. Other than that there's always the sentinels. [08:30] <GreatDestroyer12> during the battle where the alliacne gets raped traktuv will die [08:33] <AdmiralPanda_> Anyway, let's wrap this up [08:36] <GreatDestroyer12> my idea is that traktuv could get consumed by sentinels [08:36] <AdmiralPanda_> The Fordan vessels drew back to the forgeworld, as the alien vessel phased out. [08:37] <AdmiralPanda_> Ja'Dan got nommed partially cus plot, and partially cus the Sentinels needed it to happen to wake back up. [08:48] <AdmiralPanda_> Ok, can someone upload the RP to my Ideas page? You don't have to edit it if you don't want to, I'll get around to it eventually [08:49] <GreatDestroyer12> sure [08:49] <GreatDestroyer12> ill put it up @Hachi AdmiralPanda_ GreatDestroyer12 Monet

DRAFT Hel'/Tyraz meeting
Hel’Bre’K and Tyraz, the two faces of the Guardians of the Light, faced a daunting challenge in the raw military power of the Dominatus Tyranny. Although efforts by the Free Peoples’ Coalition had proven that the Tyranny could be defeated by maneuver, it appeared that the Tyranny was making no such mistakes in its Andromeda campaign. The two seasoned warriors looked over stacks of starmaps, debating the worth of individual systems and tactical positions in the face of the Tyranny advance. Neither of them doubted that the Commonwealth would prove triumphant in the end, for them it was a matter of how, and when. As Hel’Bre’K would quote from the Path of the Exemplar, the general who seeks victory during battle will always fall to the general who ensures victory before battle begins.

The Guardians had a multitude of forces to call upon, both within their own ranks and from outside. Although many Fordanta had taken up the call to arms as Guardians, the vast majority of their army was still loyal to Hel’Bre’K alone, as the agent of the Empire’s will. Tyraz could call upon the fearsome Brood of War, and with these two powers came their allies, the many races of the Ko’Sa’Va cluster behind Hel’, and the Highlord races behind Tyraz. This combined might was a force to be reckoned with, and the two generals were sure that, were this blade to be wielded with the appropriate mix of subtlety and force, it would signal the deathblow for the Tyranny in Andromeda.

As stratagem and tactic blended together, the bare frames of a plan began to form. In concept, it was simplicity itself. The practice and implementation, however, would require a scale of preparation and planning as yet unseen in the Commonwealth. The full and concerted efforts of the Highlord races, the Guardians of the Light, and the very citizens of Andromeda itself, were all pieces on the board, and to the Fordan mind, any resource is expendable in the assurance of victory.

The plan called for a great, many-pronged offensive rooted in deception and secrecy, steadily breaking the great military machine of the Tyranny, slowing their advance with baits and lures to deny them resources and vital momentum. The cost would be high, but neither Zazane nor Fordanta was a stranger to the price of war, and both were ready to pay the bill in blood.

Hel’Bre’K would lead a combined force of Fordanta, Radeon and Draconis troops, counting among this force the Imperium’s Wraith Legion, and the great interceptor fleets of the Divinarium. His would be a war in a million places, striking with his armies wherever the foe was weak, and striking in person wherever the foe was sure to see him. He would tempt the enemy’s anger, drawing deliberate attention to himself as the other armies fought to destroy staging posts, supply depots and communications relays, crippling the Tyranny’s supply chain. The information these strikes would obtain would be funneled to the Radeon ships, who would lie in wait alongside Draconis cruisers, using interdiction fields to force Tyranny reserves and supply ships out of hyperspace, destroying them quickly, securing anything of value, and departing. In this way, the Blademaster would slowly starve the enemy of supplies and reinforcements, choking the life from the front lines.

Tyraz would fight a war in retreat, using the bulk of his force to entice the Tyranny to chase him, craving the pitched battles to which they were suited. As this happened, segments of his fleet would break off to lure Tyranny ships aside and into ambushes, more directly chipping away at the great tide of vessels encroaching on Commonwealth space. Finally, when the time was right, and the enemy weakened, the Zazane would signal the attack, and lead the charge as the combined armies of the galaxy fell upon the Tyranny lines in a single great assault, outnumbering, outmaneuvering and overpowering the stranded and weakened Tyranny vessels. His was perhaps the most important and most dangerous position of all, for a single mistake may cause the Tyranny to overrun him and attack, or, in perhaps a worse case, ignore him entirely and continue straight towards the core planets.

Uriel’s role in all this was certainly the most vital, in the grand scheme of the plan. He was already a symbol, a known enemy of the Tyranny and something they intended to eradicate utterly. He would fan the flames of this aggression, ensuring that the Tyranny’s first and only goal would be his death. This risky gambit would ensure that no matter how many targets Hel’Bre’K eliminated behind the lines, or how many ships Tyraz could cut out of the main advance, the Tyranny would still keep coming, still determined to destroy Uriel. This single-minded determination, which had for so long served the Tyranny well, would be their undoing.

Satisfied that their plan would prove effective, the two leaders shared a sly smile, relishing the chance to put it into action.

Ko’Sa’Va Draconis (Nor’Va’Fal)
In one of the many periods of social decline within the Draconid Imperium, there were some groups who sought to found civilizations anew in the galaxy, bringing to life their own specific dreams of a perfect Imperium. One such group found its way to the Ko’Sa’Va cluster, settling down deep within unexplored space. Here they would colonise new worlds, and develop for centuries, slowly losing their identity in the process.

As the decades rolled past, memory of the Imperium turned into myth, stories of a great power from beyond the stars that would return to find them. One day, these myths were thrust into reality when the metal beasts returned, bearing not Draconis of the Imperium, but the emissaries of the Fordan Empire. The Draconis had, in this time, somewhat reverted into a semi-primal society, and seeking to return to their goal of a unified rule through co-operation, joined with the Fordanta almost immediately.

Within the Empire, the Draconis quickly adopted the concepts of mutual co-operation, and the meritocratic government. The older Draconis, who still remembered their faux Imperium, were and still are at odds with the idea of placing society completely before the individual, however the younger generations have steadily become more open to the idea.

Relatively few Draconis have taken on the Warrior path, partially due to the Empire’s military being restricted to Fordanta only, and partially due to wishing to capitalize on the opportunity to contribute to society without being required to defend themselves. As such, the Empire worlds nearby have experienced a slight cultural flux as the dominant traits of Draconis culture have merged slightly with the native Fordan styles.

The Fordanta consider the Draconis to be their equals in almost every fashion, both physically and mentally, and the Draconis have come to be respected by those of all races who work alongside them. With the induction of the Fordan Empire into the Commonwealth, these Draconis have once again come into contact with the Imperium, although most have chosen to stay with the Empire, to be closer to their ideals. Some Imperium Draconis have also chosen to emigrate to the Empire, creating a significant diversity of population.

Zambie shenanigans
The Fordanta as a people are inherently peaceful. While their feral ancestors warred constantly to gain power and territory, their more civilized descendants recognized war for the brutal and meaningless waste that it was. When the runes laid behind by hunting packs came to be translated into spoken language, the concept of ‘war’ was married to the word-concept ‘Hel’ or suffering. As the Fordan race, society replaced massed wars with duels between champions, which took on meaning in the concept ‘Bre,’ as honourable battle. Little blood was shed, few lives lost, and the great grievances of house and station were settled peacefully. Though the Empire was forced to wage wars with hundreds of space powers in their expansion throughout the Ko’Sa’Va cluster, they regarded such dealings as ugly things to be settled quickly and cleanly, so that peace and co-operation could resume. For over five thousand years, Fordanta had not raised weapon against Fordanta in anger, except within the dueling ring. The rise of the great undead threat under Moxix Breek would change that, and with devastating consequences.

Hel’Bre’K Ce’So’Va, the current Blademaster of the Empire, stood hunched over a holotable, co-ordinating an ongoing siege against a planetary governor who had defied the Ko’Sa’Va Concordat and launched an unprovoked full-scale assault on a neighboring system. The Fordanta moved in swiftly, a full-strength Legion deployed directly into the capital city, and were currently cleaning out and securing the area around the governor’s palace. Hel’Bre’K would have preferred to have led the offensive personally, but a string of colonies had simply ceased contact recently, and so he was awaiting news on what had happened from the situation room in Va’Si’La’Ko. A young squire, most likely in his thirties or forties, ran into the room, short of breath. The scales on his face were bleached, typical of the Va’Rel bloodline, known for their swiftness and agility. He took a moment to collect himself, and spoke up at Hel’s beckon.

Squire – My Lord Blademaster, the advance force you sent to our outer colonies has responded. Hel’Bre’K – Their message? Squire – Their only reply was “Rejoice, brethren. A great purification of the Empire shall herald the coming of the End Times.” The words troubled Hel’ deeply- dozens of Fordan legends referred to the End Times, when the last Fordanta slipped from the mortal coil, but only one called for a purification, and this legend was imbedded within his own blood. Hel’Bre’K – Thank you. Has the force returned? Squire – No, Blademaster. The message was pre-recorded, and transmitted on a continual loop. We could not contact the force or its Marshal directly.

For only the second time in his life, Hel’ was truly afraid. A Legion had gone missing, leaving only a pre-recorded message filled with babble of a time long gone. No-one alive should have known about the Ce’So’Va’s betrayal, or the dark ambitions of his reviled ancestor. He left his Marshals to continue planning the assault on the governor’s palace, as he retreated to his room. The legend came clear and quickly, the tale of an ancestor whose name was stricken even from clan records, who had aimed to place himself at the head of the Empire by brutal war. His story began with a few killings during duels of honour. He claimed that his opponents were corrupting the Empire, and so deserved to die. He eventually slew his way to the top of the clan’s hierarchy, placing him in direct control of the Ce’So’Va clan’s great Legion, known and feared across the rest of the Empire.

From his fortress on the edge of the sector, he led a series of bloody incursions into the heart of the Empire, dueling each enemy Marshal sent against him, and surviving wounds that no living Fordanta should have survived, earning him the curse-name Hel’Na’Mor, or “Undying Strife.” He and his legion took this name as a badge of honour, henceforth referring to themselves as the Undying Legion. This legion threatened to succeed, reaching the core worlds a few parsecs away from Forda itself. Then, poised on the brink of victory, the legion fell to pieces, scattered to the solar winds. Reports and spies indicated that Hel’Na’Mor had died, either succumbing finally to his wounds, or on the edge of an assassin’s blade. Indeed, this is believed to be the first time a devotee of the Assassin’s Path acted on instinct in the protection of the Empire, which would earn the supposed assassin great praise. Leaderless and in the heart of their enemy’s territory, the Undying Legion disbanded, settling smaller fortresses throughout Ko’Sa’Va space, and successfully raiding out of them for another decade until the last was rooted out.

All that remained of the Undying was a black mark on the Ce’So’Va name which would not be expunged for another thousand years, and the fact that Hel’Na’Mor’s physical form was never found. Most assumed his body was cast into the void, so that his enemies could never prove he died. To many, it didn’t matter. To Hel’Bre’K, who had travelled far, and seen things beyond his belief, it sent a chill down his spine. He had met tribal shamans who had seemingly resurrected the dead, and debated within his own mind with great witch-nobles gifted with what they called “the Essence.” To him, the fear was very real that his ancient ancestor may yet have found a way to return, to complete his purification of the Empire, and bring about the End Times, creating a Second Empire of the Undying, ruling the Empire forevermore in death. Hel’Bre’K knew there was one world to which his enemy would be drawn like a beacon – Va’Ce’So’Va, the world of his clan’s fortress. It had not yet been attacked, but he knew such an attack was imminent- Hel’Na’Mor would be forced by pride to reclaim it as his throne, before committing any resources to taking Forda.

Hel’Bre’K rose, understanding what he must do. He called a Praetorian to his side, and ordered the assembly of ten full Legions of Fordanta, including one of Praetoria. This force, hand-picked for lethal efficiency in the art of defence, would form the first shell of his defence. He next ordered the creation of five new Legions oriented towards rapid assault, one each to wipe clean the colony worlds which had lost contact. This would be the spear held out in the Empire’s hand. Finally, he sent a message to the Grand Council, although he held his true fears aside, and instead suggested that it may be an as-yet unknown enemy, and that their attack pattern suggested that Va’Ce’So’Va would follow shortly. These preparations made, the Blademaster entered his personal armory, selecting for himself a suit of enhanced armor. The metal plates of this suit were reinforced with energy-dissipative microfibers, the flexible bodysuit covering his body similarly threaded through with an artificial muscle fibre weave, which when triggered would magnify his movements, lending strength to his arm and swiftness and agility to his body. Testing the fit, he found the suit satisfactory. Normally he would not stoop to such a low, but he was preparing to face the Forsaken, not an honorable and worthy foe. He paired a broadsword with a bracer shield, the formidable combination of attack and defence having carried the day in dozens of wars and hundreds of duels. Across his back he slung a greatsword, the preferred weapon of the Ce’so’Va line. If Hel’Na’Mor had truly returned, then his fury would be met in its equal, by the hand of the Blademaster.

Stoof
Kin-group Bre’La hurtled towards the ground, the twenty Fordanta holding the arm-straps of their launch packs as they were taken in close to the enemy by a lander. They were the very tip of the spear, the first kin-group of the first century to make landfall. It would be their duty to strike hard and fast, securing the building complex overlooking the designated landing zone the rest of the century would use as a staging point to overthrow the city. They fixed their helmets in place, the faceless metal visages painted in abstract war patterns in black, blue and violet. At their sides were slung their plasma casters, each finely detailed with the honour-rolls of their owners, and hundreds of personalized kill-markings. Normally such vain modifications would be forbidden, but their Legate had allowed it as a reward for the unit’s bravery on two-dozen worlds, as in the entire Legion of ten thousand soldiers they were the only group to have never failed, and never have suffered a casualty since their current roster was drawn up. Hel’Bre’K Ce’So’Va had presented them their last batch of battle-honours, affixing the seals to their ceremonial armour in person. They were the pride and martial prowess of the Fordanta made manifest, sent as angels of death to bring ruin to those that defied the Empire.

The lander flew in a convoy of five craft, escorted by fifteen Bladewing interceptors and two Halberd heavy bombers. A total of one hundred Fordanta were in the first wave, against an enemy garrison believed to contain no fewer than five hundred professional soldiers and over two thousand militia. They would be outnumbered for the entirety of the battle, as any more landers would provide too great a target for enemy guns; there would be no relief and no option for retreat until the guns were silenced and the rest of the century could land. Bre’La had been preparing for this landing for months now, training in high-gravity conditions to strengthen their bodies, dueling and sparring whenever a chance arose to sharpen their skills. The firing range had been booked out for a solid week, the warriors not even leaving to take food or rest as they perfected their aim. They had requested, and received, special modification to their wargear to better suit each warrior, ensuring that they would not only be the first into the field, but the best equipped as well. Each warrior carried, in addition to their standard gear, thermic punch knives integrated into their gauntlets, two thermal detonators, personal dispersion fields as well as flechette and photon grenades. They had also studied the physiology of their enemy in depth, and trained against recreations of their war materiel, to best understand how to incapacitate them.

Flak guns peppered the skies as the landers approached, Bre’La shaken around as turbulence and ordinance conspired to thwart them. Still, their dauntless pilot gunned the engines, blazing under the enemy’s arc of fire to deliver his deadly cargo. The vessel was only over the landing zone for a few seconds, but it was enough. All twenty members of Bre’La vaulted out of their exit ports, diving head-first towards the enemy. Scarcely twenty metres above ground they fired their retro-thrusters, the g-forces making their heads spin as their momentum was completely nullified and their bodies flipped upright. Shaking off the disorientation as they had a hundred times before, Bre’La set to work. The squad immediately drew fire from the spaceport, but the warriors moved with blinding speed, already gone before the gunners could draw a bead. Bullets skipped and ricocheted metres behind them, as the kin-group drew their plasma casters and activated their holo-targeting uplinks. Instantly, their tactical computers interlinked, relaying targeting information across the network. By triangulating sonic readings from multiple soldiers, the computers determined the exact locations of the enemy gunners, and guided their warriors to fire precisely, even from the hip. Out of one eye, the warriors could see their path; out of the other, they saw the enemy through the barrel of their gun.

As soon as they had a firing solution, the plasma casters erupted into streams of high-energy plasma, blasting the defenders apart in hideous eruptions of steam and vented gas. The weapons could self-calibrate, expanding and shortening the containment field for a wider-area close range shot, or contracting and lengthening for long-range blasts. Against the primitive composite armour of their enemy, the weapons struck like divine thunderbolts, ripping their targets apart with contemptuous ease. In mere seconds, a dozen of the defenders were dead, their weapons ruined. Worse still, the Fordanta were already planting charges on the door. The thermal devices reached heats exceeding 3000 degrees Celsius, turning the door’s hinges to liquid near-instantly. Charging at full speed, two Fordanta shoulder-barged the doors down. The metal barrier was designed to resist direct contact by bunker-breaching explosives, and they weighed a ton each. So did the Fordanta.

The impact sent the unsupported doors crashing down, immediately exposing the unprepared militia to the same lethal rapid-fire that had ripped their outer garrison apart. Here the second method of variability the casters employed proved its worth: they could either project high-energy blasts at a steady rate of about one shot per second, or they could fire lower-energy charges at rates reaching 1000 RPM. This second extreme was what the guns came close to, their onboard computers calibrating the fire for maximum effectiveness. Though the militia returned fire, the Fordanta were still moving too fast, their armour augmentations boosting their already supernatural agility to astounding levels. The kin-group had already found cover, be it behind walls, pillars, or the crevices of the walls and ceiling. The industrial building was covered in catwalks, which the Fordanta used as makeshift tree-branches, resorting to their species’ favoured tactic of striking from above and all around, to maximize the shock value of their assault. Plasma fire and grenades rained down on the terrified militia, as they were cut down in droves by the co-ordinated assault. It appeared that no actual soldiers had been tasked with defending the building, as the rest of the vanguard force, who were just landing now, would not find any once they swept the building clear. Bre’La already had another sight set, and a special objective handed down to them by the Blademaster himself.

A tram bridge spanned the gap between the spaceport complex and the main city, guarded on both ends by numerous weapon platforms. The ones under Fordan control had been deliberately sabotaged so as to be useless, and the ones across the ravine pounded their position. Bre’La charged clear of the blast zone, across the bridge. The trams had been shut down, leaving service catwalks as their only means of crossing. These presented their own issues, as snipers and heavy machineguns opened fire on them. Their dispersion fields held, the shots barely diverted enough to avoid hitting the warriors. Even their impressive 10’ frames were hard to hit at long distance, and the defenders still couldn’t account for the speed at which they ran, unceasing and untiring. The Halberd bombers returned, passing by and dropping a long trail of decoy smoke along the warriors’ path. The smoke contained within it tens of thousands of tiny flakes of metal, creating a barrier impassable to most forms of visual detection. The formerly disciplined fire of the watchtowers became more random, its effectiveness cut out for the rest of the battle.

The door to the main city was too large to blast through, however the ornate design of the gatehouse building gave the warriors hundreds of handholds to climb along. To the terror of their enemies, the score of warriors began to climb the fortress, well underneath the arcs of fire of any of their guns. Flechettes were tossed into gun nests, followed by photon grenades immediately before the Fordanta launched themselves inside and into melee with the enemy. They were all trained to utilize their casters as weapons in close-quarters as well as at range, their well-practiced strikes and parries breaking down the knot of resistance forming around them. By chance, they had breached directly into the central control room of the gatehouse, and from there could take command of all the enemy’s primary anti-air guns in a heartbeat. More and more enemies pressed through the doorways, firing chemical scatterguns into the room. Against a lightly-armoured worker they would have caused carnage, but the heavy plates and microfiber weave of the kin-group’s armour held true. Some of the small balls penetrated in non-vital areas, barely causing enough pain to register in the warriors’ minds. They returned with disciplined plasma fire, piling up heaps of enemy corpses in the doorways. One of the Warriors accessed the facility’s map, revealing that most of the structure was hollow, so as to store as many fighters and soldiers as possible. The fighters were gone, destroyed in dogfights with the vastly superior Bladewings. The soldiers were in the process of being destroyed.

Fully charging their weapons, a kin-squad manually adjusted their casters to fire huge bolts of energy, unstable blasts of plasma that reduced the guards around the main door to atoms, and vaporizing the corpses of the fallen. Through this little circle of hell, the warriors charged out again, ejecting their spent and overheating plasma canisters directly into the enemies’ faces. Vaulting over the edge of the observing deck, their thrusters again granted them safe landing, the warriors firing plasma into the enemy as they fell. The militia were sufficiently broken, with another eighty Fordanta now charging across the bridge to join their fellows, and the rest of the century deploying behind them.

Cold War stuff
Underlying concepts:


 * Fordan Empire expanding at very rapid rate throughout Ko’Sa’Va cluster.
 * Many refugees from defeated opponents did not hear of the Fordanta’s offer for peaceful surrender, and so believed that the Empire’s attacks were unprovoked.
 * These refugees reached the DI, telling stories of a massive and unstoppable, violent and constantly warring faction within the cluster.
 * DI begins to establish listening posts around the cluster, waiting for the Fordanta to invade. The Fordanta detect these listening posts, and set up their own perimeter defenses, awaiting an Imperium invasion.
 * Lots of shenanigans with spies and secret agents ensues.
 * Cultures gradually come to grudgingly respect one another, despite not knowing the other’s intentions.
 * More shenanigans happen, ending up with the DI and Fordanta understanding that neither side wants war or violence, the whole thing was a misunderstanding caused by misinformation.
 * Shenanigans cease, the Empire is recognized by the DI as a potentially valuable ally, machinations put in place to induct them into the AGC.

Primary story points:


 * Importance of accurate information in planning and response.
 * Cultural differences and language barriers.
 * Conflicts of ideology.

Things to be careful of:


 * Remember that 1:1 Fordanta are physically superior to Draconis.
 * Make it clear in the writing that it’s due to their meritocratic nature and extreme training that the Fordanta are typically more skilled than Draconis.
 * Ignore anyone who criticizes their power without understanding where it comes from.

Meeting Sor
Sarec had taken Hachi on a visit to a small campus town on Orofar V in the Balas-5 sector. The town was a small collective of post-modern midrise buildings scattered with sizeable two-story homes. This town was a mixing pot for numerous races. Draconis, Terratrix, Sankana - even a few humans could be seen about the sparsely-populated neighbourhood. He had taken Hachi to see the local university, a large modern building some five stories tall. Clad in glass and framed with brass, it reflected the planet's amber sun, with bathed the tow nin a soft orange even though it was the afternoon. Hachi was impressed by the size of the building, as well as the decorative and traditional style.

Hachi - Gee, I knew the Draconis guys were fancy but I never expected their schools to look so...fancy. Sarec chuckled - Well expression and elegance are cornerstones of our society. Hachi - But...it's a school! Why use so much effort on a school? Sarec - Well...we pride ourselves on education as well. Hachi - Hey I never went to school and I turned out alright! Sarec - Well sure but places like this are for people who want to learn even more. Hachi - People WANT to learn more?! Sarec - Well...yes. Sarec - They want to improve themselves, broaden how much they know. It's a desireable thing here in the Imperium. Hachi - People...WANT... to go to school? Sarec - University is a little different to normal school. For one you are treated more like an adult, it is not unheard of for students to develop lifelong friendships or even relationships with their lecturers. Hachi - A relationship...with a...teacher? Dude, that's...no. Just...no. Sarec chuckled - Tell you what, how about we go into the town square and I get you some ice cream. Hachi - After what you just told me, ice cream ain't the best idea... Sarec - What would you rather have? Hachi - Mmm...those Draconis-sized hotdogs look rather appetizing! Hachi smiled and stuck out his tongue, scratching the back of his head. Sarec - Are you sure you can handle one that big? Hachi - Of course! If you can handle one then surely I can! Sarec - I can handle one because they were designed for someone of my size. Hachi - ...A-Are you calling me small? Sarec opened his mouth but stuttered. Not wnating to be rude. Sarec - If you REALLY want one then fine, i'll get you a Draconis-sized hotdog. Hachi - Yay! I'm sure my mouth can handle something so big!

Sarec reached past the back of hachi's neck and rested his hand on Hachi's shoulder and they both walked towards the town centre, where it was noticeably busier with a lot more aliens, most of them considerably taller than Hachi.

From across the town square, a young alien girl watched the odd pair out of curiosity. She could sense something different about them, different enough to indicate they may be the type of person she was searching for. Her tall frame made her stand out in a crowd, however she hoped she wasn't drawing too much attention.

Hachi sat at a table and looked around, observing all the aliens and feeling a little self-conscious as he saw humans. He looked down and sighed, not noticing the alien girl amongst the crowd as his attention span was pretty low.

Sarec had gone inside the shop for a few minutes, on another table, a young human couple turned their attention towards Hachi. They were both smartly-dressed in typical Imperial styles of silver trim, navy blues and velvet.

The girl started to slowly make her way through the crowd, attempting to get closer to Hachi to try and talk to him. She was a monk of sorts, on a pilgrimage from her homeworld to study other races, and Hachi seemed the most unique around.

Hachi looked up for a moment to notice them and then looked back down out of shame, though not making it so obvious he intentionally flipped a coin out of his pocket and bent down to pick it up. The couple muttered to each other in some form of distorted English.

Hachi - *muttering to himself* Look at those humans, born so perfect and rich while I'm here looking like something out of a freak zoo...

After about ten minutes, Sarec stepped out of the shop carrying two plates bearing hot dogs. Although to him the hot-dogs looked appropriate size, when he sat down he put one of the lates in front of Hachi the sausages appeared enormous. Sarec looked at Hachi and put on a caring face. COncerned for hachi's feelings.

Sarec - Something wrong? Hachi - Hmm? Why would you say something's wrong? Sarec - Well you don't look as happy as when I left you. Hachi - I stubbed my toe on a rock, that's all.

Seeing a Draconis sit down with Hachi, the girl slowed down. She was a Fordanta, a normally physically potent race, but she wanted to avoid trouble wherever possible. Plus, she could see Hachi's mood shift, and didn't want to approach him while his guardian was nearby.

Sarec - While sitting down? Hachi - There's a lot of rocks.

Hachi looked to the sausages and quickly perked up his mood. He had the largest of smiles upon his face as he smelled the hotdog in front of him, just resisting the urge to dunk his face into the meat.

Sarec leaned in, esting his arms on the table. Sarec - Look if something was bothering you, you don't need to hide it. Hachi - I...Uhh, well...I-It doesn't matter much, my fur just got a bit tangled earlier and I was in a grouchy mood.

The girl was left in the middle of the square, with people moving past her in all directions, and some of them were pushing into her to get past. Her sheer mass made her hard to push over, but she wasn't concentrating and so she tripped, stumbling out of the crowd towards Hachi and Sarec. A few of the cafe's patrons stood up out of surpprise, Sarec looked over with a curious look in his eyes.

Hachi's face was buried into his sausage, but he too noticed the girl trip and lifted his head up to take a look, blinking for a moment as he had sauce, mustard and meat across his face.

Sarec - Hachi do you mind if I--?

Embarrassed, the girl started to pick herself up, pulling her robe tighter around her and turning to go back into the crowd.

Sarec - Are you okay miss? Sor - Oh, uh.. yes, yes I'm quite alright. Thank you for asking, though, uh.. Hachi - Hey, I dunt blame you for tripping! Looooots of rocks about! Sarec - Are you sure? You took quite a fall. Sor - It's alright, I, uh.. my people aren't exactly too concerned about falls that short. I really should go, uh, sorry for disturbing you..

Some of the cafe's patrons muttered to themselves, seeing a Fordanta was not unheard of in this part of the Imperium but someone of her appearance was even rarer. Hachi stood up and wiped his face with a napkin before approaching the Fordanta, resting his hands behind his back.

Hachi - Hey, did you want something to eat? Sor - No, no I'm fine. Fordanta can't actually eat most of the food here anyway. Thank you for asking, uh...? Sarec - I'm sure the cafe owner has at least some Fordanta-suitable meat in the shop. Hachi - Hachi! Mr. Hachi! Hachi chuckled and turned to Sarec, pointing to him. Hachi - That's my trusty companion, Mr. Sarec! Sarec smiled in Hachi's direction - And your name, miss? Sor - My name is Sor. It's nice to meet you, Hah-ki, and to you, Sarec. Sarec - Are you new to this world, Sor? Sor - Yes, to be honest I'm quite new to everything outside the monastery. Hachi - Mona-stery? What's that? Is that like a universecity? Sarec - No Hachi. A monastery is a place where one can put aside matters of the modern world and spend time studying religious texts and meditating. I happened to have grown up in one. Sor - Sarec is right. The monastery I grew up in was a very quiet place, only a few hundred lived there. I'm not quite used to having this many people around me at once. Hachi - Geez, why does everybody enjoy studying so much? I got on okay and I don't even know how to count to ten yet! Sarec - hehe, I never sid I enjoyed all that study. Sor - Study and meditation were just facts of life for me. I suppose I learned to enjoy it. Sarec - I did enjoy the training sessions I took part in, and my mentors told me I was a natural at focusing. Hachi - I bet there was never a lesson for eating though!

Hachi ran back to the table and somehow managed to stuff the entirety of his hotdog into his mouth, poking his cheeks out. Sor chuckled a little, although coming from a Fordan it sounded more like coughing. She let her robe fall loose, and put down her hood.

Sarec smiled - No but I did get lessons in anatomy, so I know what could happen if you keep that hot-dog stuffed in your mouth for too long. Hachi tried to talk but the hotdog stopped him. As a solution to this, he forced the whole hotdog down his throat, resulting in him coughing and spluttering for several minutes.

Sor - I actually came here to study, well, study of all things. Sarec - Well I suppose hachi and I were doing the same, we recently came from the local university. Hachi - He said students go out with teachers! Sarec - Hachi all students there are old enough so that it is not a crime. Sor - I... honestly can't imagine that. All the senior monks at the monastery, they were 'senior' for a reason. Hachi - Huh? Who said anything about age being a crime? Teachers are just smart and icky. Sarec - Some people find intelligence atractive. Hachi giggled and turned around to Sarec, making a groping gesture with his hands to indicate what he found attractive. Being a reptillian, Sor didn't get the reference. Sarec - Hachi... Reptiles like me and Sor are a little different. Hachi - But...but...Awww! Hachi slumped down onto his knees as if in frustration. Sor - When the Empire joined the Commonwealth, we learned that some of the abilities we attributed to our Ma'Sor were what you called... what was the word again? Essence? Sarec - That would be the catch-all term yes. Sarec - I imagine the Royal Academy has some other and rather complicated term for it. Sor - I am one of the more attuned students at the monastery, so as my pilgrimage I was tasked with learning what I could of how other races used and taught essence, so that I could bring that knowledge back to the monastery. Hachi - Well, I ain’t no teacher but I sure can use Essence! Hachi jumped back up happily and held out his hand. Sarec - Hachi remember what I told you; mastery comes from focus, not desire. Hachi - Come on, it's just a little trick! Sarec - I can offer my knowledge on the subject. But I was taught true understanding of such energies comes from personal experience. Sor - I believe you, Hah-ki. I'm sure you're better trained with its use than I am. Out of Hachi's palm appeared a small white Essence ball which soon increased in size to match that of his whole hand until it appeared he was holding a basketball-sized Essence sphere. Sarec - ...I will be happy to impart my knowledge. Sor - I appreciate that, but I wouldn't want to disturb you any more than I already have. Hachi - The Essence I use is called Dream Energy! It's perhaps the rarest of all Essences that can be used by mortal guys! Hachi began to play with the ball by juggling it before lying on the floor and playing with it like a cat. Sarec - If you desire you could stay with us on my ship for a while. It is quite adanced, im sure you would find the peace you need. ALso I have high-speed Exonet access. Sor couldn't help but make a cute little noise at Hachi playing with the ball. As Hachi played with it, it soon exploded and threw Hachi across into the crowd, flying straight past Sarec. There was a mild panic from passers-by as some mistook it for an explosive. Others were shocked as Hachi went flying. Sor had moved behind Sarec in the blink of an eye- her only real manifestation of essence powers came in the form of physical augmentation. Hachi soon reappeared from out of the crowd, a little burned by the explosion he caused. Hachi - D-Don't worry! There's no need for alarm! Just a little mistake, that's all! Sarec - perhaps we should be moving on before DOmestic Security investigates this as a supected terrorist attack... Sor - That would be wise, I think. Sarec - ...So, what do you say to my offer? Sor - If it isn't an inconvenience to you.. Sarec - Not at all. I have plenty of space. Hachi scratched his head again and approached Sor, blushing. Hachi - I-It'd be nice to have a g-girl on the ship...I-If you want, I can lend you my room. It's the biggest on board besides Sarec's. Sor - Well then, I'd love to! Spending time around a competent essence user will provide me with a wealth of experience I can refer to. Sarec - I think it might be better if Sor was not forced to see what you have stored in your room. There are plenty of other suitable rooms. Hachi - Hey! How do you know about THOSE?! Sor - I think that would be best... I suppose I should go get my things, then. Hachi - D-Do you need any h-help carrying it all? Sarec - Well for one, Hachi. ADIA keeps me up to date on everything you do. Sor - I should be fine, I travel light. I may need some help finding your ship in this cluttered town, though. Hachi - ... Hachi blushed and looked away from them both, stroking his robotic arm. Sarec - There is a spaceport a kilometre from the town. I am docked in Bay Three. Sor - I think I know the place, I should be able to make it there myself. Sarec - Great to hear! Hachi - C-Could I join w-with you until then? I-I mean, I'm sure S-Sarec has other things to do without me! Sor - I don't see why not, I'm not exactly that confident moving around a place like this on my own. Hachi smiled and jumped to Sor's side excitedly before calming down near-instantly. Sarec - I will prepare the ship for your arrival. Hachi, keep Sor company while she gets her things. Hachi stood up and saluted, his race as red as a tomato. Hachi - Y-Yes sir! Sor bowed and started to head into the crowd, drawing her robe in tight again. Hachi joined Sor's side, resisting the urge to hold her hand and simply placed his own inside his pockets. Sarec chuckled and turned around, he headed for the Starport. To take a shortcut he ducked inside an alleyway and vanished. Being nine feet tall and weighing near a ton, it was easy for Sor to keep moving against the crowd, somewhat emboldened by Hachi's presence. She also manipulated one of the glowing bulbs on her gauntlet, which released a fine mist. Hachi detected the mist and his ears perked. The result was that he sneezed and fell back onto his rear, sniffling as if he had a cold.

Sor - Oh, I'm sorry! Here, let me help you up. *Sor extended a hand down to Hachi* Hachi squeaked and sat there for a moment, observing her hand like he had never been helped up before. He soon reached out with his metal one and took a hold, lifting himself up. Hachi - Eugh...I think somebody around here farted...so much for the Imperium having classy citizens. Sor - I think that would have been a spore cloud from my gauntlet here. Hachi - That would explain why it smells like mushrooms! Sor - They create a calming sensation in Fordanta, I suppose it smells a little strong for those who aren't used to it. Hachi - See, Sarec usually does something to me that makes me feel calm. I dunno what he does, something like an "Essence incense" I guess. He's more skilled than I am with his powers. Sor - It took a long time for the senior monks in the monastery to attain their powers, and they hardly understood what they were doing. With time, I'm sure we'll both become far more skilled. Hachi - Yeah, maybe then I can finally learn how to wipe ADIA's memory of my computer. Sor - Why would you want to do that? Anyway, I just have to get my things and tell my mentor that I'll be travelling with you for a while.

Sor's stuff was in the back of the transport that had taken her into the town. Sitting in the drivers' seat was an android while Sor's stuff was stored in the back. Hachi nodded and just sat on the floor as she said so. Not even bothering to look for a chair, he just hopped onto his rear and sat down, his legs outstretched as he yawned. Reaching into her packs, Sor pulled out a small handheld device. She pressed a few buttons, and spoke into it for a while, conversing quickly in Fordan. After a few minutes, she closed the device and pulled out her packs. As she unpacked her things, Hachi couldn't wait for very long before curling up and falling asleep on the floor in public, with people having to step over him or walk around him.

Android - Is anything else required madam? Sor - No, that is all. Thank you for the journey. Sor slung her pack over her shoulder, before carefully picking up Hachi and heading off towards the landing pad Sarec had indicated. The android nodded and the lander lifted off.

D'aww
Sor started life on the monastery world of Va'Sol, a lush jungle world dominated by giant trees and dotted with remote monasteries. The main settlement held several million people, but the outlying shrines and monasteries held only thousands or hundreds. Sor herself came from one of the smaller monasteries, where Fordanta who exhibited abilities like hers were sent to study and train. As the Arcadium crossed near the outer rim of Fordan territory, Sor offered to show Hachi and Sarec her homeworld. Sarec had seen a great number of monasteries and centres of learning in his time, and so he stayed behind to conduct his business, while Hachi and Sor took a shuttle down to the planet.

On the way there, Hachi had fallen asleep once more as travelling on smaller shuttles made him feel drowsy. Sor couldn't help but find Hachi cute when he was asleep. Va'Sol was largely dominated by insects and reptiles, there weren't any creatures that were so furry. It would have been easy to mistake Sor's interest in his fur for interest in him, by the way she looked at him. When the shuttle landed, Sor scruffed the fur on his head to wake him up. Hachi's eyes fluttered open and he yawned, his eyes half-open.

Hachi - F-Five more minutes...Huh? Oh, we're here! Sor - We're here, Hah-ki. My home is just across the path from here. Hachi - Home? Like...with parents and such? [09:48] <AdmiralPanda> Sor - In a way. My parents live on the other side of the planet. I grew up here. Hachi - Huh? Oh! You grew up in a school, didn't you? I keep forgetting. Sor - Yes, I lived at the monastery for as long as I could remember. Come on, it's just this way. Sor opened the shuttle door, and started to walk down the path from the landing pad to the monastery Hachi hopped out and landed on all fours, sniffing the air around him for a moment before standing up and walking closely beside Hachi, a little nervous at the wildlife around here.

The trees around the path were only a few metres tall, but still formed a light canopy over the path. A few insects flew around, their shiny carapaces reflecting the light. Sor moved around easily, but the ground was somewhat uneven. Hachi looked as if he was trying to walk a tight rope as he crossed over the ground in an attempt to balance himself. He held his arms out as he began to wobble, but he soon got distracted by one of the insects and a big smile appeared on his face, swiftly falling towards the ground without noticing or keeping track of his actions.

Hearing Hachi stumble, Sor turned and quickly caught him. She couldn't help but hug him a little bit, enjoying the feeling of his fur. Hachi let out a rather amusing toy-like squeak as he was caught, his eyes wide as if he had just been jumped.

Hachi - ...The bugs are shiny. Sor squeezed him a little bit more, before letting him go. Sor - They are. Some of the hatchlings make jewellery out of their shells, and our ancestors used to grind them up to make dye. Hachi fell on the floor again, though he picked himself up this time. He felt his fur for a few moments, trying to take in what just happened. It didn't Sor long to notice that Hachi's face was also brightly red.

Sor - Is something wrong? Your face is all red! Hachi looked up and then realized the state of his face, before flopping his ears over his head to hide it. Hachi - N-Nothing's wrong! I...uhh...I l-landed in some mud! Sor - Oh, ok. We'll get you cleaned up at the monastery then. The path ends just up ahead. Parting aside some of the leaves, Sor gave Hachi his first look at the monastery. The stone structure was dug into the mountain, with ornate carvings flanking the doors into the compound.

Hachi tilted his head and then flipped his ears back behind his head to reveal several small bruises from where he had bumped into trees due to his ears rendering his sight useless. He gasped in awe at the monastery and leaned forward.

Hachi - Wow...This place looks so...so...old! Sor - Most of the monastery is hundreds of years old. Our ancestors dug the deepest tunnels when we first came here, and the monasteries grew around us as the bloodline strengthened. Hachi - How do buildings grow? Hachi placed a hand to his chin in thought. Sor walked up to the gate, and spoke to the gatehouse guard. The great doors swung open slowly, allowing them to enter. Hachi walked alongside Sor rather closely, he felt very intimidated and outsized by the guards. Sor - Over the years, our people built up mounds of dirt and stone, eventually building the great walls around you. Most of the monastery is underground, within the mountain. Hachi - A building inside a mountain? Reminds me of a game I play on the computer! Once the guards were satisfied that Hachi wasn't a threat, the door into the main hall opened up, and the guards returned to their posts. Hachi - It's lucky I don't have agor--agor--that fear of being in big spaces.

The hall was dug straight from the stone, lit by torches and fire pits. The walls and columns were decorated with insect carapaces, some of them the size of a large car. A large number of younglings were sitting a lesson at the feet of an elder monk, while some of the grown monks were attending to their duties.

Hachi - Aww the little ones look like little Fordanta! Sor - Most of our daily lives are spent in this hall, the reading rooms are above, the dormitories and training rooms are below. Sor - To think, that this monastery was built over generations by hard work, to create what it is today, is almost beyond belief. Hachi was surprised by the architecture and structure of the monastery, it was a lot bigger and a lot more fancier than he had expected. Hachi - This...This is a lot different to school. Sor - It's more than just a school. It's quite possible to live your entire life within these walls, if such a life suits you. Most of what we're taught is philosophy, although most of us take up martial training as well. Hachi - Martial training? You mean like...catate, to-fu-doe, Moojitsu? Sor - I have no idea what you're talking about, but I guess so. Most of us learn unarmed combat, the guards learn how to wield glaives and longswords. Those like me try to learn how to augment our bodies with essence. Hachi tilted his head in curiosity when she said the last part. Hachi - ...A-Augment your body? H-How do you mean? Sor - Well, for a long time the people of our bloodline have been able to move faster and with more precision than other Fordanta. After we established these monasteries, we discovered we could, to a limited degree, control these abilities. Sor - When we encountered the Draconid Imperium, we discovered that these abilities were related to essence, and that we would be able to properly control them with the right training, hence my pilgrimage. Hachi - Oh! Oh, right! I thought...I thought you meant augment in a...n-no, I understand now. Hachi looked away to hide his embarassment from her. Sor - But to answer your question, I can use my essence abilities to speed up my body, allowing me to move much faster than normal. Sor - *thinking Hachi was getting nervous because of the guards* You don't need to be shy around here, the guards aren't going to hurt you. Hachi - Huh? Errm...I-I'm not g-getting shy...n-not of the guards a-anyway...*he covered his mouth and then covered his face with his ears as his face turned red again* Sor put an arm around Hachi to reassure him. She started to lead him down a hallways to the right of the hall, and deeper into the mountain. Sor - The common rooms are this way, as well as the study and training rooms.

Hachi squeaked out as she placed her arm on him. For some reason, he felt softer when he was nervous. She could feel every strand of fur go up and down as he panted to keep himself calm. He had no idea where he was going, although he trusted Sor enough to lead him. The pair walked down the corridor until it opened up into a natural cavern running under the mountain. Waterfalls and shafts of light poured down from a crack in the roof, shining on the common rooms cut into the side of the cavern. A number of monks were socializing, sitting on chairs also made from the carapace of large beetles. An extensive library covered one wall, a well-tended garden occupying another alcove.

Hachi - So, this is where you guys...w-what exactly do you do here? Sor - Mostly, we take time out of our daily routine, just to talk, or read a book, or wander through the garden. Some of us go for a swim in the lake below, but I don't think you could reach it. Hachi - Huh? What do you mean by t-that? A-Are you sayin I'm short? Sor - I'm saying you probably won't survive the jump. The lake is down there. *points over the edge, to the lake covering the floor of the cavern, a hundred feet or so down* Hachi leans over the edge to take a look at the lake, curious as to how far down it is. His ears perk up and he begins to lose concentration, leaning forward a little too much for safety. Given that the ledge didn't have a safety rail, Sor rested a hand on Hachi's shoulder, ready to grab him if he fell. Hachi - That water looks fresh and clean, I guess livin in a mountain has it's...Wait...OH MY GAAAAAAAH I'M ON A LEDGE! Hachi leaped back and hugged Sor's leg tightly, shivering from the realization that he could have fell. Sor chuckled a little, walking over to a cluster of chairs under one of the shafts of light. Moths and beetles flew all around the area, and flowers and vines forming a canopy around the place. Hachi was still holding onto her leg with his eyes clamped shut. Sor could not help but feel the rather warm feeling of having fluff wrapped around her leg. When she arrived, Sor pried Hachi off her leg and laid him in one of the chairs, then she sat in one of the others. The wind blowing through the vines created a sort of music, and the flowers released less potent soothing spores, that didn't react badly with Hachi. Hachi sniffed the air and he calmed down, slumping back in his chair with an expression on his face that made him look high. Hachi - S-So, w-what were you s-saying, m-miss Sor? Sor - Well, this is my home. What do you think? Hachi - It's...It's different to what I imagined. For starters, I thought it'd be smaller. I dunno, I could live here if I took my training seriously enough...It's definitely impressive, definitely not like a school I've been to before. Then again I haven't been to school. Sor - This place has so much history for me. I'm glad I was able to bring you here. Hachi - Hehe, it's a nice place! I...never had much of a home to really go back to until I met Sarec. I'm a traveller sorta guy. Sor - I've spent so long inside these walls, I jumped at the chance to travel the stars and see new cultures, and new people like you. Hachi blushed and hid his face once more at the mention of him. Hachi - I-I'm happy t-that you finally g-got what you wanted! It makes me h-happy when I see others happy, it makes me happy! Wait, I said that already... Sor reached over and rested a hand on Hachi's arm. Hachi blushed more and he looked towards her, his red face in full view now. It was quite clear that it was not mud. Hachi - W-What are...w-what are y-you...w-what are... Sor - I'm glad I met you and Sarec, Sor'Bre'Dan. Hachi tilted his head and blinked in confusion. Hachi - I-It's pronounced H-Hachi, miss Sor. Sor - When Fordanta form a bond with another, we honour-name them in Old Fordan. It's one of the highest honours a Fordanta can bestow. Sor - It's also easier for me to pronounce. Sor smirked a little with that last comment. Hachi - Aww...I-I've never been given a-another name before...well, except Hachi which is just a nickname, b-but never one like that!

Hachi leaped out of his seat and hugged Sor, although it wasn't exactly a bodily embrace as much as it was her having a ball of fluff wrapped around her face which squeaked. Sor hugged him back, sort of cradling him. She laid back in the chair and started to doze off, still hugging Hachi. Hachi had already fallen asleep several seconds after hugging her, only natural of him really. Instead of storing, he simply quietly murmured catchphrases. After a while, Sor carried Hachi back to the shuttle, saying her goodbyes to the monks. She remembered to bring with her a few samples of plants, and she also brought a set of reinforced robes in case her travels brought her somewhere dangerous. The other item she brought with her was a necklace of carved beetle shells, as a souvenir.

Hnggg
Sor had taken over one of the Arcadium's cargo bays, turning it into a greenhouse where she could grow mushrooms, fungi and other plants from her homeworld. She would often spend hours there tending to her plants, when not practicing or sleeping. Among the many plants she had grown were the psychotropic spore clusters that she used during battles, and also the large curtain-like fungi that curled up into the cocoons that her Bloodline often chose to sleep in.

Hachi had spent the last day or so playing on his computer and his consoles, taking a break from the medication him and Sarec usually engaged in. However, today he decided to go and check up on the young Fordanta girl that had taken shelter in one of the hanger bays. He himself thought this was a strange place to live.

Inside the cargo bay, the atmosphere was warmer and more humid, and a myriad of smells wafted through the air. Hachi entered the cargo bay and his nose reasponded with not the best of reactions. Hachi sneezed as he entered, which sounded like a timid squeak to anybody who could hear it.

Hachi - Somebody would t-think we're d-drug dealers or s-somethin... Sor was tending to one of the larger mushrooms. She was wearing only the thin robe she normally wore over her armour, and without her heavy cloak. She turned around when she heard Hachi speak. Sor - I suppose they might, but only a couple of plants here are mind-altering. Hachi's ears perked and he hid behind a mushroom to hide himself, he didn't intend for himself to be seen. Sor - It's alright, you don't have to hide around here. Hachi - B-But...this is y-your room. Sor - Well yes, but you're a friend. Hachi blushed and slowly showed himself, looking down in an attempt to hide his blush. Hachi - S-So, uhh...S-Sarec wondered how y-you were doing d-down here... Sor walked over and ran a hand through Hachi's fur. Sor - I'm doing just fine, thank Sarec for lending me this room when you see him next. Hachi smiled more as her hand passed through his soft, fluffy fur. Hachi - Meep! I-I'll t-try...a-although he a-asked me for t-to keep you company...f-for a little bit. Hachi was quite obviously telling white lies, judging by his expression and stuttering. Sor - Well thank you, I spend so much time around here I occasionally forget I'm the only one in the room. Sor gave Hachi a hug, then turned around to examine another mushroom. [As Sor examined the fungus, she felt a rather firm, hairy grip around her leg with a hint of cold metal. The sound that followed was indecipherable, yet adorable, mumbling. Mostly on instinct, Sor reached down and tousled Hachi's fur again, looking down with the Fordan equivalent of a smile. Hachi opened his eyes slowly upon making a rather significant revelation; she was wearing barely any clothes. At this, he froze and a look of reluctance came upon his red face. Sor - Is something wrong? You've gone all red again. Hachi - I-I, uhh...i-it's the c-clothes...I-I M-MEAN IT'S T-THE FUMES! Sor - *chuckles* Fordanta aren't exactly shy about our bodies, I don't mind walking around like this. Hachi - I-It's not a p-problem a-at all! I-I just...uhh...I-I mean, S-Sarec likes r-revealing clothes. Sor - I'm sure he does. Sor kneeled down, hugging Hachi close Hachi squeaked out once more and found himself rather comfortable in her embrace. He tried hugging back, although his arms didn't exactly wrap around her like they should have done. Sor - So tell me, why did you come down here? If Sarec wanted to check on me he would have used the cameras. Hachi - Ummm...h-he, uhh...w-well, uh...h-he, err... Hachi's eyes widened and he found himself lost of an excuse. Hachi - Okay, m-maybe he d-didn't send me d-down here... Sor gave Hachi another squeeze, and let him go. Sor - You don't need to make up excuses to come around and say hello. Hachi - B-But b-boys aren't supposed to let g-girls they like k-know that they...oops... Hachi covered his mouth and turned away, sitting on the floor and biting his thumb. Sor sat down next to him, looping an arm around his shoulders, and pulling him in a little closer. Sor - Where I come from, we just tell our friends. Saves time hiding around. Hachi - B-But...but...y-you're a girl and I-I'm a guy... Sor - We can quite easily end up close friends with many people. Some closer than others. I... have to admit, there's something about you that the others at the monastery lacked. Hachi's eyes maneuvered towards her and he was left with a surprised and bashful expression. Hachi - Is...I-Is it m-my fur? Is it t-the metal arm? Sor - Those are both true, but... you have a different spirit. Hachi - ...I-is it because of my fur? Sor - *chuckles* I don't think so. I think it's because you're so... unique. You're brave, but timid. Adventurous, but still hold yourself tight to those close to you. Every aspect a Fordanta values, in different measures. Sor - It's something... I haven't really seen before. Despite myself, it's enthralling Hachi - I-I'm not t-timid...! I-I'm just...shy, yeah, s-shy. Hachi smiled and leaned onto her lap, letting out a happy sigh. Hachi - You know...you're pretty unique, too. You don't take pleasure in all the death and chaos that goes around nowadays, in fact the way you try to avoid it...I wish I could be like that. Sor - I don't think anyone really takes that much pleasure from war. Most of us would rather just be with our friends, and our... closer friends. Hachi - But when we do not have friends to turn to...all we are left with is fighting. We are forced to kill and fight, just to acknowledge that we are still alive and that we exist by taking away the existence of another individual. Sor - Even I have to acknowledge that I can only avoid bringing about death because there are others of my Kin who do so for me. I only have the chance to be here because they make that sacrifice. Sor cradled Hachi in her arms, holding him close to her chest. Hachi - I have killed before...I have killed and fought people, living people because they fought for something I don't believe in. They are my enemies and they will try to kill me...but then I take a moment to think, is it just for their leader that they're fighting? Have they not got families, friends, loved ones...? I never liked killing... Sor - Some times I wish I could just go to sleep, with a close friend next to me, and wake up the next morning to a galaxy without war. I know it won't happen, and one day the war will come to me, but I'd rather face the End Times beside you than alone. Hachi - Huh? Hachi looked up towards her face curiously, pink blush on his cheeks as he tilted his head in a most adorable manner, letting out a hum as he did. Sor - You're one of the closest friends I have. We've been together for so little time, but done so much. Hachi - I-I...w-well, i-it's the least I can do, h-honestly! I-I mean, you are q-quite a p-pretty girl...I'd rather b-be as helpful as p-possible. Sor - Well, if you want to help... maybe you could help make this place a bit more of a home... Hachi - Hmm? M-More like a home? Sure! I can do that! What did y-ya want me to do? Sor - Well, the bed doesn't exactly see much use... Hachi - You...Y-You want me to sleep in it? Sor - I was thinking more like... we sleep in it. Hachi's face lit up brighter than a Christmas light and he released a tiny squeak as a response to her comment. Sor nuzzled Hachi, picked him up, and carried him over to the other side of the room. She'd been growing a special plant there, whose huge leaves curl up when touched to catch water. Her kin used them as beds, and they conveniently blurred out the light so that you couldn't see into them. She leaned back into the leaf, letting it close up around her and Hachi.

More Zambi Shenanigans
The Kin-squad peered at the ancient structure out of the viewing window of their lander. The place looked like a ruin, centuries old – for all they knew, it was. Concentric octagonal walls surrounded a high central tower, also octagonal in shape and unadorned in form, each layer of wall falling away as they spread further away from the centre. Smaller towers rose up from each corner, and radial walkways connected the rings together. Anti-aircraft guns sat atop the towers, their barrels turned to the ground. Most of them appeared to be ruined by time, some by sabotage, and others by the scars of war. Scans of the area indicated the entrance to the tower to be at the apex, at the feet of a statue of a Fordanta, likely the leader of the colonists that built the fortress.

Scouts had already swept into the city, securing the gun turrets to ensure that they were safe to fly over. Having received the all clear, the Bre’La initiated the assault. Ten landers flew in perfect synchronization, dropping off squad after squad onto the rooftop. An eleventh lander flew in low, coming to a stop to allow its cargo, a swarm of Fordan drakes, to be released. The vicious hunters were once Fordanta, but instead of intelligence their evolutionary path led them to great agility, a natural predilection for stealth, and the hyper-lethality attributed to all Fordan life. About the size of a human greyhound, the drakes would be the first into the temple, to seek out any enemies and disrupt their formations.

Behind the drakes came five Fordanta, their armour of a higher level in both rank and technology. These were Artisans of War, warriors turned craftsmen. These Fordanta preferred weight of fire and methodical destruction to skill at arms and valorous melee, and were a considerable asset to the Fordan military. Their leader, a Lord Artificer by the name of Ve’Ras, had been assigned to this mission as chief investigator into the spreading rumours that a Fordan raiding party was using this planet as a hideout. Breaching the outer doors was easy enough – they were an old Fordan design, long since outdated by superior technologies. The drakes swarmed into the building, finding a long spiral staircase leading down the tower. They vanished out of sight, and out of range of the warriors’ detectors – something below was causing interference in the signal, so they would have no contact with their beasts until they found them again below.

The first Kin-squad descended, followed closely by Ve’Ras and his Artisans, who studied the architecture and materials of the building as they went, dating the structure back to the time of the Undying Legion. They were barely half way down the tower when they came to a landing, littered with the bodies of the drakes. They had been hacked apart by some sort of energy blade, although its exact nature was unknown to the Artisans. To an extent, this set them at ease. They conversed briefly, satisfied that their enemies were not Fordanta. As they turned to progress further in, a voice seemed to emanate from the walls. With a start, they realized that the voice was coming from within their own minds.

??? – Do not be so sure, Artisan. You may just regret your lack of caution. Ve’Ras – What pathetic trickery is this? At risk of sounding cliché, reveal yourself! ??? – I think not, young one. You still have much to learn. Perhaps once you have learned, I may show myself to you, but not now.

The Fordanta pressed further into the tower, as they descended the Artisans noticed carved reliefs on the walls. They seemed to depict a fragment of the Empire’s history, as told by the creators of this fortress.

??? – See recorded here the history of the Undying Legion, the heralds of the End Times, and scions of the True Empire, lavishly engraved over a century. See, and understand the doom that is upon you. The first relief displayed Fordanta relaxing in a meadow on the shore of a beach. The style was early Imperial, well known among higher circles for its light-hearted tone. ??? – The Empire was weak. The Fordanta languished under the weight of our own indulgence. The Path was broken and twisted, our people without purpose or duty. The second relief displayed Fordan warriors wielding what appeared to be early prototype plasma casters doing battle with a horde of aliens, and losing. A single Fordanta descending from the clouds in a halo of fire, wielding a katana in each hand, broke the battle in the middle. ??? – War came to this weak Empire. Our ‘warriors’ failed in their duty, and the enemy advanced unchecked. The flame of our Empire and Bloodline was nearly snuffed out. Into this burning ruin marched our Chieftain, the one you now call Hel’Na’Mor. He rallied our Bloodline, and led them against the enemy. His charge destroyed the alien attack, and saved the Empire. In the third relief, Fordanta fought Fordanta, plasma caster against glaive. The warrior with the glaive wore an ornate suit of armour in the Ce’So’Va style, the other wore the sleek and sophisticated armour of a Knight. ??? – Knowing the Empire would not survive another invasion, Hel’Na’Mor summoned his great warriors to him. He had found his duty – to lead the Empire from the depths to which it had fallen, and resurrect it in glory to face the End Times, and emerge victorious. He waged a great war against the forces of the Empire, and cut world upon world from their grasp. Ve’Ras – Liar! Hel’Na’Mor betrayed the Empire, left his people, and waged his own war out of personal greed! ??? – So little you know, young one. Hel’Na’Mor fought for the good of the Empire with his every waking breath. Perhaps you will realize this some day. The fourth relief was a Fordan skull, pierced through by a blade and with bullet holes blown through it. ??? – For his bravery and dedication, Hel’Na’Mor was branded a traitor. His Bloodline was outcast, unforgiven for crimes they did not commit. He and his people were hunted like animals to the ends of the sector, and ruthlessly hunted down. Years passed, then decades, then centuries. Over nine hundred years ago, Hel’Na’Mor was slain, the Undying supposedly finally put down. Here he has waited those nine hundred years, but you will meet him soon enough. Ve’Ras – What are you…

At that, the doors to the outside slammed shut, and the stairs began to retract into the walls. The Fordanta established a defensive circle, shoulder to shoulder and guns facing out. They watched in horror as the shadows came alive, slowly pulling themselves up and into twisted mockeries of the Fordan form. As each one burst free from the dark, blackened armour coalesced on their bodies, and glowing blades formed in their hands. A bright, sickly light gleamed from their empty eye sockets. The living barely had time to scream before the darkness closed in.

Hel' stoof
''Hel’Bre’K looked over the battlefield, taking the measure of his enemy. To his left and right flanks, the Guardians of the Light streamed forward, pushing back the front line. All in all, the campaign was going well, and most likely Hel’s leadership would be the talk of Alcanti again as he brought another rogue system back into the fold. Still, the old warrior was bored. Not in the human sense, but on a much deeper level.''

Plunge in.

''The Blademaster was forged over decades to be a living weapon of war. Every fiber of his being was bent towards destruction, and he loved every second of it. This was his chosen task, his fate. While on the surface he was calm and collected, underneath he was a whirlwind of death, relishing every little nuance of combat. Lately, his taste for battle had not been indulged nearly enough, leaving him constantly restless. The Guardians were incredibly efficient, and this was good, but it left the battle over long before he could freely commit himself to the front lines.''

''”Plunge in. They won’t stop us.”''

''As he watched the flow of battle, Hel’ noticed that the enemy fought mostly with desperation than with discipline. They were little more than an armed rabble, although somehow this lack of formation made them harder to break than a regular army. This was drawing out the fight, an unfortunate situation for most. For the Blademaster, it was an opportunity.''

”We have work to do, Brother.”

''Before his Praetoria could respond, Hel’ had already left for the front lines. His controlled march quickly turned into a jog, then a run, then a full-on sprint, either dashing around or pushing past other groups of Fordanta. The battle was only a short fifty metres in front of him, a distance easily closed with a well-placed leap. He soared over the trench line the enemy dug to keep the Guardians at bay – an ineffective strategy mind you, landing amidst the enemy with enough force to crush armour and shatter bone. He rolled with the landing, rising up with a devastating headbutt that lifted an alien up into the air, its chest smashed in by the impact. Hel’s hand was already on his blade, the longsword clearing its sheath and flowing naturally into a wide strike. The thermic edge cut a fiery trail in its wake, the heavy blade cleaving through armour, flesh and bone with contemptuous ease. The sharpness of the sword was irrelevant, the piece of metal weighed nearly a hundred kilograms, and when swung by a Fordanta delivered enough force to dent armour plating even at its most blunt.''

''”Let the rage carry us away, Brother. Walk the battlefield like the gods we are!”''

''Hel’s blade darted down, carving a trail through one of the heavier troopers, before coming about in a flourish to decapitate four others. His tail wrapped around another soldier’s neck, snapping it with a sickening crack before hurling him into his comrades. His dispersion shield crackled as gunfire danced around him, the powerful barrier shielding him completely as he fought. He brought the blade around again, stabbing it to the handguard through one soldier, then through another, before yanking down with all his strength, and tearing the blade back out. His tail slashed out again, the blade on the end catching one soldier at the neck, nearly decapitating him. The ropy muscle smacked into another, caving in his helmet and knocking him to the ground. Some of the aliens’ fire passed through the shielding, clattering off his armour or burying itself deep in his muscle, but he cared not. He was well into the Bloodrage by this point, completely beyond pain or fear of death.''

''Striking out at any foe that presented themselves, Hel’ dove deeper into the enemy ranks. His Praetoria were carving a path towards him, but he needed no protection, he needed no rescue. His shield arm came about in an arc, slamming the shield’s edge into a soldier’s midsection, then punching forward to take him at the throat. The glowing blade came around after it, delivering the coup de grace, before flashing out again to impale a new foe. An armoured walker shuddered to the front lines, the pilot clearly visible behind what Hel’ assumed was reinforced glass. He leapt onto the walker, headbutting the glass panel to weaken it, then shattering it with his shield. His head flashed in again, coming out gripping a bloody hunk of meat closely resembling half of the pilot’s body. He threw it into the air, before biting down hard on it again, ripping the head free and swallowing it whole.''

''This display of sheer brutality stunned both friend and foe. To the Fordanta, it was normal, but to the Guardians it was completely unexpected, and more than a little repulsive. Using his weight to knock the walker to the ground, Hel’ rode it down and used it as a platform to launch himself even deeper into the enemy lines. A forward command post was clearly visible, the officers coordinating the defense standing within. They were protected by an energy field designed to deflect fire, but allow people to move freely in and out of the space. Their poor choice was going to cost them dearly.''

''Hel’ sheathed his blade, unclasping the shield and securing it to his back. The two falcata he carried on his back cleared their sheathes, weaving a deadly wall of fire around him as he charged. Some were cut down by blade, some knocked aside by sheer force and momentum. Within moments, he was upon the enemy commanders. Throwing all his force behind the charge, he burst through the door, savoring the look of abject terror on the commanders’ faces. Time slowed down, and with contemptuous ease Hel’ methodically and efficiently cut them down with swift, fluid strokes. One under the knee, lift him off balance, finish with the downward stroke off-hand. He’s done, move on to the next. Lead with a sweep to the upper arm, take the limb off at the elbow. Off-hand sweep to the other arm, take it off. Correct spin, cross blades, decapitate. One more, keep your focus. Blades forward, thrust both. Pull down, shred lungs and internal organs. Sweep off the head, no point leaving him to die of burning lung.''

''”For the Empire! For the Bloodline! The End Times are upon them!”''

''Na’Mor’s warcry rung through his mind. Looking out the window, he saw what he had achieved. The Guardians had shattered the now leaderless army, driving forward and behind the enemy lines. Their defence was destroyed, and this little campaign was at a close. The End Times had come for them. Their species was being extinguished. Everything they were, everything they may have been, was ending at the point of his blade. And he loved it.''

Solofic stoof
It floated through the endless void of space, without sense of direction or the passage of time. Eternally watching, waiting for a flicker of life to cross its path. And it was hungry.

On the viewing deck of the Triumphant, flagship of the Fordan Imperial Navy, a lone Fordanta watched the stars as he sat in contemplation. A firstborn of the Ce’So’Va bloodline, Hel’Bre’K Ce’So’Va was larger even than his fellow clansmen. A true giant among Fordanta, his immense frame was near-permanently locked in a combat stoop. Here, however, he could relax in a bubble of reduced gravity. Literally lifting the weight from his shoulders, the space allowed him to ease the physical stresses on his body, while he meditated to ease the stress on his mind. The scar over his eye still held their bite, even though it was months since he earned it. The Paragon was secure for the time being, after escaping his ordeal among the massive creatures of some unspoken world. He even had the pride of knowing that young Sor had completed her first mission on pilgrimage, assisting in the rescue of Tyraz Breek. This brief moment of stability afforded him the chance to return home to Val’Ce’So’Va, free from the burdens of his position.

His trance was broken by an ensign politely knocking on the door. Hel’ bade him in, before entering a series of dance-like movements utilized to refocus the mind and body after meditation. The ensign, probably only ten to twenty winters old, came to attention before addressing the Blademaster, the single highest ranking warrior in the Empire, and leader of the Empire’s military forces.

Ensign – My Lord, our long-range sensors have picked up a distress signal. Its signature indicates Talon Navy. Hel’ – Move to intercept immediately. Ensign – The Captain already gave the order, he merely wished to keep you informed. Hel’ – Tell the Captain I appreciate the gesture. Ensign – Of course, my Lord. Our current course has us intercept the vessel in two sub-rotations.

The Ensign saluted, before he turned and hastily departed. Hel’Bre’K couldn’t help but feel somewhat sorry for the boy, being asked to deliver potentially inconvenient news to the single most feared warrior in the Ten Thousand Stars. Completing his exercises, Hel’ donned the bodysuit he wore under his combat armour. He doubted the full suit would be necessary, however caution had saved his life on more than one occasion, and he was loath to take undue risks. He settled instead for half plate, bracers, greaves and helmet, Securing a plethora of blades about his person, he joined the Captain on the bridge as they closed in on the distress signal. What they saw struck down all their hopes of an apparent cause of distress.

Before them was an immaculate Talon Navy cargo carrier, gone completely silent .Scanning stations indicated significant biological life in the engineering room of the ship, with a small cluster of life signs on the bridge. Repeated hailing attempts went unanswered, until finally a signal came through. The image of a Draconis captain flickered onto the viewscreen, the bridge behind him filled with marines and crewmen. For a moment, his face belied the sense of impending doom within until he realized who he was speaking to.

Draconis – Bla-Blademaster Hel’Bre’K! Thank the Lifefather you found us. Our ship was invaded by an unknown hostile on our last patrol, it’s been killing off our crew one at a time for hours now. Hel’Bre’K – Easy, captain. I shall personally lead a detachment of Praetoria to ensure that you and the other survivors escape alive. Whatever this creature is, it shall not survive the destruction of this ship. Draconis – We’re ready to move, we’ll make a break for the life pods as soon as you’re within pickup range. Hel’Bre’K – Understood.

The pickup went off without a hitch, the Draconis unassailed by whatever they claimed was stalking their ship. As the Draconis lifted off, Hel’ signaled for the second dropship to land and pick them up. Once they were all clear, the Triumphant would open fire and destroy the cargo ship, just to be sure. Less than half of the ship’s crew reported in, and their life signs could not be distinguished from wide-range scans. The biomass in Engineering had still not been explained, and the Draconis couldn’t confirm what was in there.

The dropship came in short order, and the Praetoria boarded quickly and efficiently. Hel’ took one last look around the corridors, just to be sure, before turning to board the ship himself. Just as he placed a hand on the doorframe, something grasped his tail hard, pulling him back into the ship. The Praetoria made to follow him, but the Draconis ship closed the umbilical bridge, separating the two vessels. The Blademaster had vanished into the depths of the vessel, and Fordanta and Draconis alike could only sit back and watch, hoping that whatever was inside that ship, the Blademaster was stronger.