---

Silhouetted in the Red Sun, dots against its vastness formed into black shapes as they moved closer. Dozens, hundreds, moving together like a great cloud on the wind. They were approaching the yellow tan planet, almost beautiful at this distance, particularly the way the yellow gained a tinge of green the closer you reached the poles, speckled with dots or lines of blue. It was no wonder Terersg was so popular. It was a reasonably peaceful world. The inhabitants kept to their work, the fauna were small annoyances at best, and a whole lot of nothing separated one sporadic settlement to another. Two airships were already settling towards the planet, their bows up to begin the descent and deal with reentry into the atmosphere. Their radio chatter was already being monitored. No sighting yet. The advantage with having the sun at your back.

It was good, the admiral didn't want some explosion in orbit or a call for help suddenly cut off. He didn't want to ruin the surprise.

It wouldn't be long now that the fleet would begin to separate. The plan was easy, blockade the planet, nothing in or out. Then begin the invasion. Concentrate drop ships around the larger settlements. Secure any airship and supplies while on planet side, neutralize the population only if they resist. The xenoes savages they hired should be enough to deal with that, with acceptable causalities. Block transmissions, magical or otherwise, setting up the Essence net was always tricky, the fleet had enough Mystic Class ships. That was the most important. Chances that they would get anything important were pretty slim, hardly enough the warrant the full naval might of two Noble Houses, but the system was useful. It lay between Dominion and Confederate Space, and near the trading routes. The Lunar Confederation lost many ships to the Oblivion Calamity, and they were weak now. The Dominion had a lot of plans for the system, and the longer they had to prepare, the longer they can keep this invasion a secret, the easier the conquest would be in the future. Finally, after 1000 years, mankind will be united once again.

The Admiral knew better, the Noble Houses did so love to put a positive spin when it meant they needed the Empress's support.

Once the ships were within Terersg space, the fleet separated. The locations they were going to hit were barely a dozen, most of the fleet was intended to keep the blockade, corvettes and destroyer 'hunting packs' spacing out to patrol the upper stratosphere. The Mystic Ships, whose technology is designed to amplify sorcery, and their escorts would have to spread themselves at exact points across the planet. The Ritual would take time, time spent for the rest of the armada to get into position, the mercenaries already descending, their ships growing red hot with the entry of their weight against the atmosphere. They were eager for the spoils, and the admiral already included that into his timelines.

He reached for his vox caster, the transmission spread across his armada. "Begin the attack. This day, we declare war on Elysia. This day, we begin our march to unite mankind and take our rightful place as Elysia's overlords. The gods themselves bless our righteous mission. Remember. We are Kings..."

Nearly a million voices call out in response. "The rest is meat! Meat for the Tiger!"

---

"Brothers and sisters! We gather here today for Maintenance Day once again! But today is a truly glorious day, a day unlike all the rest! For Oblivion is dead! We have been spared! The Life Ships have protected us from harm, as they have always done since the Day of Yellow Fire! Rejoice Brothers and Sisters! Let our wrenches sing of our praise! Let the arc-torches shine with our thanks! Show your love with the tightening of each bolt and the sweep of each pile of dust! For today is Maintenance Day!"

The Seeg have gathered in the square of Haabin Spaceport, gathering within the shadow of the Husk that is their 'Life Ship', the primary source of water and food that allow for the port to sustain itself on this dry dust ball of a planet. They are so reliant on their Ship, that most of the citizens happen to worship it. Each season they gather for a grand holiday, to clean and upkeep the ships, while also feeding it 'sacrifices' and to wipe and polish every surface to keep it clean. The Seeq turn the whole operation into a city wide celebration, offering sales and putting up decorations, filling the streets with something besides brown yellow sand.

However as the diminutive Seeq spread the cheer, it does nothing for the unbearable heat, which most off world species would find insufferable at best, and dangerous at worst. While the holiday fills the streets, the makeshift buildings of scrap, stone, clay, or even other ships provided air conditioning and more off-world comforts. Saloons, inns, conservatories, watering holes, workshops, and other businesses were all open, as places that were preferable to the tent city of markets that were set up around the buildings and grounded ships, with slightly higher prices for the convenience.

---

On the outskirts of the city, there was a warehouse near the grounded cruiser, known as The Cerberus Gate. It has already relatively quiet compared to the rest of the city, having been there for months, and while its arrival was a big deal, with a whole bunch of activity and teams of crew bartering for supplies, that activity stopped. Whatever the mission was, it was put on hold, perhaps even cancelled entirely. The captain wasn't going anywhere. No one goes on, nothing is sold, and security is still in force. This made the ship little more than an eyesore to the rest of the city.

The radio quality is terrible but the technician managed to get a station playing KI75 newest album. The room itself was barely anything more than a bunch of old radio and transceiver equipment for the antennae jury rigged outside. The stuffy room atop some scaffolding was barely considered an air control tower. Most ships would have to deal with their own de-conflicting airspace, and accidents do happen considering how busy the port was. but no other measure had been put in place. With the Cruiser essentially decommissioned, this place acted as a cheap substitute. They weren't worried about flying, but it was an important, if boring job to monitor the stations, just in case something out of the ordinary would happen.

The technician was nursing a tin of what could generously be called coffee flavored with a shot of whiskey. The technician nursed it, gagging with each sip. They didn't have any milk or sugar left to undo the taste of the tar colored liquid, but it would do. It was his shift in 'the hot box' and he hoped being a little drunk with a couple of old magazines and the radio would be enough to distract him from the heat. He casually turned on each station, just a little bit so he could hear the static of KI75 singing in the back ground. He then sat back, placed his boots on the desk, and started his shift.

"There should be some room over there..." "Landing gear's still not working-" "Did you hear the one about-" Just endless chatter, alot of it supposed to be on secret channels, but there was some expensive bit of tech in that antennae. "-Getting sick of those-" "-The trail comes here, he has to be -" "MAYDAY! MAYDAY! this is-" "-what are you wearing sweethea-" "-THERE'S HUNDREDS OF-" "Just a jumpsss-" "MAYDAAAAHH-" The radio cuts out on that station abruptly with a chirp.

This definitely got the technician's attention. He leans in to get the channel again, only to hear nothing but static. He leans towards a nearby computer panel, turning it on and waits for the old dusty monitor to boot up. Before it does so, the technician notices something outside the window. He sees several bright yellow streaks falling into the atmosphere against the pale purple blue sky that separates the cloudless expanse. More and more break through the sky, as the technician looses count after twenty. This can't be a mere trading convoy. Slowly, the realization falls over him. He drops his tin, turning and nearly tripping over the chair as he struggles to reach the nearest vox to sound the alarm.

Behind him, the computer turns on, as the old tech radar pings to show the green blips that congregate at the top of the screen, slowly filling it as it makes its way down the screen.

---

Meanwhile, the activity of Maintenance Day is disturbed by the cut in of a speeder car that nearly flattens a crowd. The public begins to rattle in argument and shouting, with some people trying to run at breakneck speeds through the gatherings. It's a slow notice, there are a significant group of people in town, braving the heat and moving with great purpose. Almost as if they were late and had a deadline long past due, or that there's some imminent emergency that needed to be prevented or prepared for. A particularly eagle eyed observer would notice that a lot of these rushing individuals had several things in common. The species, their uniforms, none of them were Seeq and most of them were carrying large bags filled with various belongings, alot of them not properly strapped down in their haste.

Something was happening.

Three days, minimal amounts of food and water, times were rough for this foreigner and things didn't seem like they were getting better. He was short on coin, and while he could probably get a hefty count of currency for the well-maintained Zaldean attire on his back- his pride just wouldn't let him go that far. Al'at instead accepted what was offered, kept on his feet and traveled as frequently possible. There was no time to waste, people needed to be spoken to, he had knowledge to accumulate. There was however one thing that irked the man, gnawing away at the back of his head like a voice of warning. Blood. He had six vials left of what he brought from home, and, while there was a surplus of the very life essence walking and breathing around him- you could not just approach a stranger and ask them for a small insignificant amount of their sanguine liquid insides. Or could you?

"No, I can't.." The Zaldean quickly retorted to voice inside his head, a sneer of annoyance embracing the man's pale youthful face as he lightly marched on with the light leather taps on the sand below, damn it was hot.

His crimson eyes would glance along the numerous races as he did so, observing and analyzing, he'd read about many of them in books but few-few of his people got to see them with their own eyes. A Garuda female in particular caught eyes with Al'at and scampered towards him, a near-predatory smile upon the woman's face as she pressed past the oncoming flow of people to approach Al'at. She stood a good foot taller than the man, pale violet skin, with glowing runes across her body. What gave her race away more than anything were the feathery ears that slipped through the woman's raven hair. Her glowing hues stared curiously at Al'at, scanning his attire and visage with an expectant look as she came to meet his pace at his right side.

“Keep your head down bureaucrat. This is a place of profiteering and survival, no pampering will be had here.” She hissed, her slit eyes seeming to bravely peer at Al’at, her imposition casting a shadow over the pale man.

“I’m not dressed for this environment my lady, and I’ve not eaten or consumed water in some time- why I’m not dead is likely a feat of magic or a biological miracle. So believe me when I say, pampering is something that I am not accustomed to.” Al’at retorted with a troubled-innocent smile. His pristine white teeth beamed up at the woman, though her attention seemed to be drawn somewhere else.

“We will see about that, what brings you to the scorching sea anyway? Typically it’s merchants of some kind who visit us, perhaps you’re looking for a slaver?” She flashes her own sharpened carnivorous teeth a purple blue hue tinged her mouth. She was an interesting specimen, maybe she would offer Al’at some of her blood. She had plenty to spare after all.

She still matched his steps and kept with the flow of footed traffic, but her avian vision seemed to see something he could not in the distance near a public statue. Was it the statue? It seemed to be of a Seeq of importance, artfully clad in ceremonial clothes and holding a large stave. Curiousity overcame Al’at, but it would be quickly replaced with an overcoming sense of urgency. A speeder car flew by, nearly leveling a nearby section of people and maintained full-speed as it continued through the port. Whoever was inside cared little for who he wounded or even killed, just what exactly drove them to do this? “If you value your life little noble boy, you better start running.” The Garuda woman started to sprint, and many others behind them doing the same, Al’at instead decided to watch and observe. Acting without information wasn’t something he enjoyed doing, it was too impulsive. Whether this caused him to meet his maker, or to visually see or find out what was stirring up such a ruckus was all that mattered in this moment.

”Ugh, you fat sonova-”
Why did the Captain make her do all the difficult work?
Terersg was not a place Pidgeon would’ve liked to pull apart her prize. However, it certainly beat having the vultures of the Reiksgard trying to swoop in and steal the goods. While the Reiksgard was off doing Gods knew what, Pidgeon was stuck in a maintenance bay on the desert planet, made from the hull of yet another ship. Sometimes ships broke down on arrival. It was only natural to have some sort of place to repair your only way off-planet. Crime wasn’t a problem on Terersg so much as anywhere else in the surrounding area, as little as there was. It would give her the peace and quiet to do what she wanted.
Still, she wished at least Tammy or Dace could’ve come…

With a not-so-powerful pull, the teen finally managed to dislodge the heavy bot from his craft. He, like his airship, was in a bad state: plasma burns, shattered metal plates, missing screws and the like. At the very least his limbs looked OK. Tammy would appreciate some cool robo arms, knowing how poor her own chassis was. She made sure to look him over before scrapping him, but from the looks of things, he was a pretty dead bot.
Welp, couldn't help that.
Airships were her specialty, not bots. She just lacked the spark for such things. Sure, she could weld on or off a limb or something, but a lot of the inner mechanisms she wasn’t sure of. Maybe someone on Terersg would take care of him.

”You’re… SO… HEAVY!” Grunted the ace, tugging him across the wing of his own ship. She wasn't exactly the muscular type, so all this tugging really got her whole body aching. ”Grrgh… My back hurts so goddamn much… This is your fault, you know? Bucket o’ bolts, just come… OVER… HE- oh SHIT!”
Pothole.
The young pilot crashed, falling flat on her face and gently rocking the fighter from the force. The sound of sparks and snapping of raw electricity against metal hit her ears, and she immediately whizzed around.
He was touching live cables. Electrically charged, exposed, deadly cables. Pidgeon’s heart sank.
’Aww crap…

The electricity surged through MR38’s body, the systems that were not fried by the damage he had suffered from the incoming fire, were turned on and his last memory played before him, the pirates attack, the death of his own creator. He felt rage well up inside him, and as his eyes adjusted once more, he preemptively went into Stage 3 and spawned two plasma pistols in each hand and pointed them towards whoever was pulling him from his ship.

Only to see that it was young girl attempting to pull him away. All of his logic processors told him that the odds that this little girl was a pirate was very small, however, with the pistols still in his hands, he asked the girl:

”Who are you, where am I?” he asked her, still pointing his guns at her, if she wasn’t a pirate, she was probably a scavenger and he would not let anyone pick him, or the ship of his creator for parts, even from someone as her.
It didn’t take him long to get an answer.
”O-oh, err, Pidgeon, and you’re on top of your ship which is on top o’ the sand which belongs to Terersg!”
A very long and complex answer, but one nonetheless. Pidg often didn’t react well in situations where weapons were pointed at her, particularly when they came as suddenly as they just had. She raised her hands and did her best to not appear threatening, but when you’ve got a pistol at your hip and look like trash, it could come across as hostile to some.

Her mind was desperate to get a plan going, something to keep her alive. It wasn’t like her to confront someone in a situation like this. In the air maybe, but not in a near-empty hanger on a burning wasteland. Adrenaline immediately began pumping into her system; she needed to think.

”I see.” He answered plainly, slowly lowering his pistols. The girl was not a threat to him, the pistol on her belt would not work very well against him, even as damaged as he was. ”Are you a scavenger, girl, or are you just someone who enjoys pulling random automatons from wreckages?” Had it been physically possible for him to squint at the girl he would have.

He looked around for a few moments to his surroundings as his memories played in the back of his head once more, the sudden pirate attack, the pirates boarding the ship, the death of his creator. The moment his creator came to his mind, his head snapped back at the girl.

”Girl, was there another body in the ship?!” He asked her rather suddenly. His mind hoped that there was at least a tiny chance that Moro had survived the crash, and even if not, then at least he would deserve a proper burial, not left to rot here in the middle of the desert.

Another body?
Pidgeon shook her head.
”N-no, no, there wasn’t anyone else! You were the only thing around aside from the ship…” Her voice trailed off. With a nervous undertone, she added: ”Th-that’s why I fixed you, eheheh~! You looked so alone and stuff, all dead and whatnot, I just had to try and get you back online! Hopefully that little shock didn’t hurt too much?
Gods, she was an awful liar sometimes. She couldn’t forge a lie to save her life, but when it came to her instincts, sometimes she could come up with something believable enough on the spot. The teen cleared her throat and tried to calm herself, now that she wasn’t having pistols aimed at her. ”A-and it’s the second one. I like looking at wrecks n’ stuff, see what I can play with. I was considering looking over your ship for parts if I couldn’t, err, bring ya back. For my own beauty.”

The Raptor was nearby, a small craft which… looked quite ugly, in all honesty. It was as though someone slapped anything that worked onto it, with turbines in the mid-wing, plasma cannons in front, a magic rear-engine. It certainly didn’t look like anything else out there, though original designs weren’t exceptionally rare in Elysia. The Gunslinger and Raptor were still attached via cable, though it was a wonder how her smaller craft could’ve brought the Gunslinger to the maintenance bay.

”Or in other words, you were planning take me and the Gunslinger apart and use us for spare parts.” MR38 mentally sighed. He figured that he could probably take the ship of the scavanger before him with relative ease, considering her weaponry, however, her friends might be nearby and he didn’t really want to risk a dogfight in the shape he currently was right now. ”Ok then, I am going to need your help here, Pidgeon.” He said, reverting back to Stage 1, both because there was no threat nearby and because his essence was very low at the moment and he could not afford to pass out again, lest the girl before him picked him apart for anything valuable he might have.

”Could you help me take my ship over here to the nearest repair bay so that I can get both the ship and myself out of here and to the nearest...” He searched in his memories, there was somewhere where he had to go, somewhere where he belonged, the place from which his creator was. His memory, like many parts of his system were damaged, he could not remember where he needed to go or where he belonged. ”... safe haven.” He continued, not wishing to seem like he spaced out all of a sudden.

Pidgeon decidedly ignored the part where he saw through her plan, and instead focused on his peculiar request. This planet was as safe as any she knew, perhaps safer in spite of the lack of enforcement. Maybe he didn’t know this place? Or perhaps his memory was damaged?
Still, maintenance was more or less the best place to get a ship in working condition. She wasn’t sure about bots though. ”If you want both those things, you’re already in the right place to find ‘em.” She stated plainly, not quite sure how to approach the situation, however given he seemed calmer she assumed he was willing to be friendly. ”If you’ve got money then ya can get yourself repaired right ‘ere. Seeg’ll patch ya ship up right as rain if you can’t, for a price. If you can do it yourself then it’s free though.”

She seemed to relax herself, as she shifted her hands to her pockets, entering a slouch. ”Terersg is safer than most places. You should be fine here.”

”Considering my ship was attacked by pirates before I crashed, I do not entirely believe you on the safety of this place.” As he spoke to the girl, he tried again and again to access his memory to see where he should go, however, he was drawing a blank, he knew he had to go somewhere, but he did not know where. ”Bring your friend over here to fix me and my ship, I figure my creator won’t need the credits he had stored in me anymore considering he’s dead now.” He said, slightly saddened that he was not able to save Moro, still it was his duty to get himself repaired and back home, wherever home was. ”I figure that about 150.000 energy credits would work for your friend to fix me and the ship up?”

Honestly, he didn’t really trust the girl all that much, nor did he trust whatever friends she had, however, he didn’t really have any other choice at the moment. He would have to leave his and his ship’s fate in Pidgeon and her friend’s hands. If they would get the better of him, then at least, he could die knowing that the Gunslinger responded only to him and Moro, making it useless, even if they fixed it.

There was only one problem with that.
Little did he know, Pidgeon’s friends weren’t around. In fact, she wouldn’t know where they were until she got back in her craft and turned on the radio, and even then may not have the reception.
Not that MR38 needed to know that…
”Oi! Seeg!” She called to one of the nearby… things. She wasn’t quite sure what to call them, but they sure as Hell weren’t human. One little feller came along and almost tripped on the cord between the two ships, however managed to right himself before gravity could take him down. ”Fix my, err, friend’s ship up would ya? And maybe give ‘im a scrub? He’s kinda… broken.”

The little midget nodded and quickly ran to a few other Seegs, where he talked gibberish for a bit. Apparently they understood what he was talking about, and began talking on small radios similar to walkie-talkies. Those that were here began amassing a collection of tools for repair. Pidg knew that more were on the way.
Repairing ships was a Seeg forte. Little else in Elysia could beat their handiwork.

As the little things began repairing his ship, a large warning popped up in his mind. His batteries were nearly depleted, so with yet another mental sigh. It seems that the time to test the young girl’s trustworthiness had come, either that, or he could try and stand up until he would deactivate either way.

”Ok then, Pidgeon, I’m going to enter a stand-by mode to preserve energy, however, if you try to mess with me, or the ship, I’ll come back to life and you’ll live just long enough to regret it.” He lied to her. He didn’t have a stand-by mode, he was either activated or not, and if he was out cold, there was no way he could know if the girl messed either with him or the ship, he just hoped the girl was clueless when it came to automatons and would only patch him up a bit.

Which he was both right and wrong about. Pidgeon didn’t know anything about automatons, but she couldn’t guarantee he would feel the same. The Seeg had already started cheerily jumping about in preparation, grabbing materials, tools, and vehicles to repair the Gunslinger. MR38 was dogpiled by the mini engineers, taken from the ship to be worked on separately. Pidgeon did her best to help out where she could on the Gunslinger, figuring that it would help getting to know his ship. She knew ships better than people most of the time - why would that change now?

The process took several hours, for both the Gunslinger and for MR38. Whatever the Hell the Seeg were doing to repair MR38, they were taking their bloody time with it! She recalled seeing sparks and panic, and a lot of tinkering. A large, yellow canister had been inserted somewhere inside of him - she could only assume the Seeg knew what they were doing. It had to be a battery of sorts; perhaps it had overloaded his systems? Whatever it was, it extended his repairs to be a lot longer than it should’ve been. The Gunslinger wasn’t quite ready yet, but she knew it could at least fly. Well? Probably not. But it could fly!

The Seeg which were working on the bot soon switched priorities, from the automaton to his ship. The last one did something which caused him to glow for a moment, before running off to join the others. She had a rough idea of what they told her: he would be online soon, but had a problem. Just a little bug involving trust, however they assured Pidgeon no harm would come of it.
Probably.

For MR38, not even a second passed since he had been turned offline, however, now, he felt differently. The Seeg’s had repaired his body as best as they could, and it seems they even powered him up once again, however, there was something odd going on with his memory, however, since he could not really place what it was, he rose to his feet and turned towards Pidgeon, his master.

His master? He shook his head and poked once again through his memory, there were odd gaps in it, but the memories that he did remember, did indeed point to her being his creator, his master. However, no matter how much he tried, his memories would not work for him. Not only were there gaps in his memories, but the ones that were already there, were a corrupted and jumbled mess. The crash must have done him in quite badly if not even the Seegs could fix him.

The teenager watched as her new bot acquaintance had come back from the dead, revived by the magical healing properties of Seeg integrity and engineering. She didn’t say anything, only raised a brow at him, as though to egg him on. With his face now reconstructed, she could make out what he was trying to convey from that alone. He was… confused? And definitely worried.

“Are you fine there, master?” He asked Pidgeon as he approached her. “Are you hurt?”

Master…?
Wha…?
His approach was noted, but he wasn’t pulling any sort of plasma guns on her, so she wasn’t particularly worried. ”Eeeeasy there, buddy, easy.” She raised her arms, not out of defence, but to apparently try and calm him, steady him. ”You’ve just been repaired, everything’s cool, just nice and easy… Obviously you’re thinkin’ a little different from before.”
It took her a moment to realise that he’d asked her some questions. The trouble was, she wasn’t quite sure how to actually respond. It was hard enough trying to piece together why she had suddenly become his “Master”.
”B-but yeah, I’m good. Just, uh, repairing your ship with the Seeg’ here.”
For some indescribable reason, she felt awkward. Awkward and confused, although the second emotion was far more easily justified.

To call MR38 confused right now, would have been an understatement. From the look of things, Pidgeon seemed to be as confused as he was right now and the fact that his memories were a mess was certainly not helping with things. He only assumed that the crash had caused her some brain damage as well, causing some memory loss as well. He shook his head once more, he would fix things once they would get back home.

”Come, master, we need to get back home.” He said, as his sensors came online once more, though from the look of things were quite iffy. However, he could sense something in orbit… ships, and a lot of them, they were in danger. ”Let’s go, Pidgeon, the people in orbit don’t seem very friendly!” He instantly went in Stage 4 as the ships approached the planet and in his mind, he prepared himself for combat.

The people in orbit weren’t friendly? He had damn good sensors in him if he could tell that from the surface.
Pidgeon didn’t hesitate, and ran straight for her craft. Though most would expect a smooth transition from ground to air, the young ace was forced to contend with her own mechanical flaws, specifically a particular bar which opened the window to the cockpit. She jumped on it again and again, before finally the cockpit opened to greet her.
Slamming her on the chin. Ouch.
She fell backwards onto her back, but got up without much trouble, despite being winded. ”Fine! I’m… I’m fine…!” She coughed as she clambered into her craft, flicking switches and turning on the engines. Before she closed the glass casing and buckled in, however, she called out to the bot:

”Oi! Get in your ship, lets check this out! Err… what was your name again?”

”MR38, or Specter, if it’s easier for you!” He called back to her and wasted no time in getting back into the Gunslinger. It took a few moments for the shipt to get back online considering the damage it had received, however, now, though it was still fairly damaged, its engines were online and best of all, its weapons were online, at least, they would not go down without a fight!

And with a roar of the engines, the gunship lifted itself off the ground and started flying right after Pidgeon’s ship, hopeful that they would reach their home before whoever was in orbit would.

They landed far ahead of the other forces, moving with a decisive purpose. Their time to fight would come, but for now, they had other goals in mind. A warehouse lay before them, now undefended as its caretakers fled in the wake of the invasion. It was the perfect window of opportunity, but a tense one, as their great worry was that the ensuing conflict might destroy their prize. Their burliest member headed straight for the first door they found, getting to work with his power tool without hesitation.

"Hurry it up." Their leader, an Ortakk, began. "If we stay here too long, we might actually have to fight someone."

"I'm going as fast as I can." The burly alien replied, his voice raised over the din of his cutting instrument. "Just a little patience, and we'll have the cores. Then we'll be set for life."

His words provided little comfort to their leader, as he continued to wearily eye the skies, watching as the streaking forms multiplied and compounded. Their paymasters, this "Tiger Dominion", would have little love for mercenaries that had no intention of fighting, but they would hopefully be too busy with their little plan to bother with them. He had turned his back on his own civilization when he had chosen the life of a thief, and he could care less if these bloodthirsty humans hated him too. He just wanted them to focus on their own business long enough for him to get away with his.

"Hey boss, someone's coming!" He whipped around at the warning from his comrade, instinctively raising his rifle in the direction of the threat. An armored stranger approached, seemingly unconcerned with the fact they were confronting four armed and battle hardened mercs. Their intrusion on this operation rankled the Ortakk leader something fierce. "Hey, back off!" He barked at them, shaking his rifle threateningly. "We don't want trouble, but we'll kill you if we have to!"

His words did not phase the stranger, but they eventually stopped just a short distance from them. Even as three of their number pointed weapons directly at them, their gaze seemed to look past their aggression, seeking something. Their eyes rested on the leader, which deeply unnerved him. They seemed to stare for all too long before finally producing some device, and a female voice rang out, "Are you aware, my sweets, that as you are in the midst of a military and/or criminal action, I can legally acquire your property as salvage?"

The question baffled the lot of them, but the leader's patience had worn thin. He looked to his right hand man, signalling for him to attack. But he barely had time to nod before the stranger was already plunging a sword through his chest. The leader looked in horror as the life leaked out of one of his long time comrades. The one to his left jumped forward, hoping to blast the stranger close up with his shotgun, but all he achieved was having his throat held in a vice grip. The burly alien at the door produced his machine gun, firing off a barrage of bullets. The stranger simply used their own ally as a shield, shooting forward and then hurling the bullet riddled carcass into the burly one. In the blink of an eye, a bigger, deadlier sword appeared in her hands, which she used to slice through both the dead man and the burly one in a single stroke. It was here that the leader finally escaped his stupor, choosing to take the opportunity to shoot the stranger right in the back.

Just as he squeezed the trigger, he could have sworn he saw the barrel of his gun seal shut. He only had a split second to register it before the thing exploded in his hands. He collapsed in agony, unable to do anything but stare at the mangled mess that remained of them. The stranger stood over him, and he braced for death. Instead of his end, he heard a cooing voice instead.

"Ah, you poor thing. I know, you weep..." At first, he couldn't believe his assailant was trying to comfort him. Things became somewhat more clear when she reached down and took his sword from his belt. He managed to look up, and saw the stranger had opened the visor on her helm. Everything made sense now. She was an Ortakk too. She was now cradling his sword as though it were a baby. He realised another horrifying truth. This was not just any Ortakk, it was that insane Exalted one with the sword fetish. Garamm was her name, if he remembered clearly. Just about every rogue Ortakk had heard of her. He actually began to chuckle at that moment. Their whole unit, slaughtered, just because this bitch wanted a new sword. His sword wasn't even all that special, just something he had picked up on a job. He was going to die so she could have a shiny new toy.

"...for your master lies dying. I know, it's sad. But don't cry, I will give you a new home. I'll take care of you. I'll cherish you." She then lowered the sword to his neck. "But first, a christening. The head of a traitor, the blood of a thief..." She then raised the sword once more, and swung it down hard. Those were the Ortakk rogue's last moments.

Garamm left her tiny battlefield, her new blade sheathed as she carried the Ortakk's head with her. The sword would find a place in her cargo hold, and the head would be taken to Ortakk'Nai for a tidy sum. "What do you think, my little darling?" She spoke aloud. "Will we find you some brothers..." She looked up to the sky, where ever more ships entered orbit. "...or will we bring you to safety first?"

Jornwuld Ritaynur

"Utinni... This is much a peculiar garment," Jeet said aloud, holding it up and inspecting it with childlike curiosity before nodding quickly, "Mmmm, good. We make the trade, Yes?" Jeet was the owner of a squat brick warehouse, situated several hundred cubits from the downed airship that dominated the centre of town. In his youth, he used to be part of a group of specialists that looked after the water collector and life support cooling systems, now he was the fourth largest purveyor of ice and ice related products in all of the city. His competitors being the other Weegee brothers. Jornwuld snorted, shaking her head.

It was by luck, or lack thereof, that Jornwuld had arrived on Terersg. It was meant to be a routine stop, to give Tarkarus time to recuperate from another stretch of hard riding. But life had never made anything routine for Sigasmarandi. Upon dismounting the giant bat and sinking her boots into the sand, Jorn realised the mistake she had just made, as the peldmaus flapped its wings and took off the oppressive heat began to sink in.

And every time she tried to call Tarkarus back to her from that moment on, was met by silence.

Jornwuld spent what felt like forty years wandering the desert, stopping in the day, taking cover in the shade of hills and caves and moving at night when the fridged temperature suited her best. It was during this melancholic cycle of walking and sleeping that her cooling suit began to fail, unable to keep up with the heat of the day and regular sips of coolant water Jorn took. The days dragged on and the suit did less and less to assuage the lacerating heat. It was during the fourth night of marching that the thought of dying turned from hypothetical to possible, as when she brought her cracked lips to the filling tube for a drink, she discovered that the suit was dry.

Had day come and her suit was empty she would have most certainly been buzzard-food by noon. But it seemed that fate would throw her bone, just this once.

In the hazy distance Jorn spotted the amber-white glow of electric illumination, and wordlessly shambled towards it at a hurried pace. It was a town, no, a city! Her first instinct was to find food, fill a belly that had been empty for four days prior, striking gold at a traveller's temple that offered free oil and bread for the wayward wanderer. The oil was of the hyper-corn variety, and the bread was stale and tasted of milled oat chaff, but as she wolfed it down in a secluded corner it was the most delicious thing in Elysia. When the sun came up, and the heat in the alley where she had made sleep became unbearable, she sought out a place where she could have her cooling rig repaired. And after almost causing a riot when she asked around for who the best "cooler-fixer-upper" was, found her way to Jeets.

From where she sat atop a massive block of ice, Jornwuld replied in backhanded fashion. "Sure, give me your liver and the suit is yours." The Seeg squinted, unsure whether the statement was a joke or a legitimate offer.

"Seeq has not a liver." As he spoke, a gaggle of his kind moved through the alley that the Ice Factory exited out to. Checking the ludicrously large timepiece that Jeet had hanging from his neck, he made a small noise of surprise, "Oh! Speech start soon! You stay, Barbell, Jeet come back after speech and fix liver suit!" From behind her face wraps, Jornwuld opened her mouth to protest, but was silenced by the continued babbling of the little creature as he toddled towards the door. "I come back one hour tops! You stay!" As he passed the threshold into the street, he called back behind him. "This not mean discount!" Jeet disappeared around the corner, absorbed into the stream of small, hairy rodents.

Jornwuld sighed in frustration.

"Perfect..."

“Couldn’t ya have picked a better shithole to explore?”

A trio of men, all dressed in fairly light and slightly ragged clothing, woefully underprepared for the scorching climate of Terersg. Clearly they weren’t planning on staying here very long. Everyone else could feel a foreign aura radiating from them as they escorted, or were being lead by a colossal figure, like a stone statue given life. The figure was towering over even the three muscular men trailing next to it. It’s metallic “skin” moves in some places like armor, but others like it was muscle and flesh. The skin was like polished silver that you could use it as a mirror, if not for all the bright markings dotted onto parts of it. Bearing a slight resemblance to a humanoid, one could say maybe another one of the men is piloting it.

“Planets are difficult to come by, it is better to explore every one of them we come by, even if it is a short visit. Besides, this planet is not that bad.” The living statue replied in a monotone and powerful voice, almost a retort. The voice sounded synthesized, either this was a full on robot or it’s some kind of speaker system or voice changer.

“Sure it ain’t so bad when you’re all cooped up in your warm and cozy suit.” Another one remarked, not bothering to look at the statue. the three men were in a sour mood from the looks of it. The statue did not respond this time. And so they kept on going in the same direction they were heading, which appeared to be absolutely nowhere.

“Aie, cap’n, why do we even need to come with ya? You’re the size of a bloody Sherman tank, you could take on everyone in this city alone!” One of the men piped up with an accusing sneer on his face.

“It is more of a preference, I was a researcher when I was still on my home planet, the profession required being with other researchers for safety reasons. If one researcher was stuck in a hole for example, he could be saved by the other researchers.”

“Yeah, well we sure ain’t “researchers,” or capable of pulling your two-ton ass out of a hole.” The accusing man replied, with the sneer turning into an annoyed frown.

“Fair point.”

With that, the small talk withered away in the blink of an eye, the man wasn’t sure if Ripley was gonna really stop dragging people into his shit permanently or if he was gonna try to forget about it like usual. He should try to get some people that are actually his friends to drag along, he thought. His thoughts were quickly overtaken by the cacophony of the celebrating Seeg, quickly it was getting on their nerves. They all just wanted to run up into the crowd and punt the little shits like they were rugby balls. They just had a magical obnoxious quality to them.

However, the cacophony started to develop a frantic quality to it, and the pack of figures running past the crowd was sudden. The trio of men slowed down their walking, their faces turning from irked, subtle scowls to intrigued, otherwise neutral expressions. Perhaps it was part of whatever event was going on? No, this crowd seemed panicked. The men’s faces showed the slightest hint of fear. One of the men asked “What the hell’s happening here?” There was silence that seemed to stretch forever, as the figures ran forever.

One of the men walked up cautiously, but confidently to the running figures and tried to get their attention by shouting “Oi! What are you all doing?” A tiny bit rude but whatever, he can apologize later.

Malkan Malenfant

A tall cloaked being stopped in front of a stern of a modest-sized wooden airship. He eyed the embellished bowsprit suspiciously, thinking it was a bit excessive for such a small ship, before making his way up the gangplank. The being was not impressed when he got up to the top deck and found there was no one in sight. He was told he could get good equipment from this ship. However, he was not impressed by the set up. It was like they didn’t want anyone to know this was a shop. Scanning the deck, he saw a small sign with the words “shop” and an arrow pointing downwards. Figuring he already made the trek to Terersg, the being headed downstairs to check out if this shop was really worth it.

When he reached the next floor, his impression of the shop changed. Unlike the exterior of the ship, the interior was more polished. Shelves lined the metal walls and display cases took up much of the floor space. Signs hung above each aisle while little notecards detailed what the items on the shelves were and their cost. When he glanced about the room some more, he noticed someone on the other side. Probably the owner, he concluded. She seemed to be immersed in her work so he decided to help himself.

Malkan finished soldering the wire onto the circuit board. She had noticed the customer walking in during the middle of her work but the last thing she wanted was to mess up this circuit board again. Setting down her tools, Malkan observed her new customer. He obviously wasn’t a Seeg nor was a regular which made her wonder why he was out here in the first place; most people would try to find her at another location. “If you have any questions, I can answer them,” she said when she noticed the customer looking at two different plasma guns. He glanced up at her and nodded before going back to his own decision making.

Eventually, he brought up a few items to her checkout counter- a few different guns, grenades infused with different essences, and a PDA. Up close, she could make out horns underneath his hood and a large snout underneath his scarf. The dark dull eyes that peeked out between his heavily wrapped face caused Mal to think her new customer was a minotaur. “That’ll be 56500 coins.” Her customer grunted and handed her the money. “If you ever need any help, the PDA has a help app. There’s also another one that lets you order things from me as well,” informed Mal as she rang the customer up. She pulled out a case from under her counter to package all the purchased items. “Enjoy dear.”

Malkan waited until her customer left before going over to a panel against the wall and typing in a code. The panel opened to reveal two deactivated androids. Waving her hands in front of their faces, Malkan brought them to life. “Hold down the fort for me boys. I’m going out for a bit. You know the protocols if there’s trouble.” She strode over to her coat rack to grab her cloak. Malkan didn’t think Terersg was a planet if not for its oppressive heat. Often, she found interesting items while going through the market; it was also a good place to get materials for her products from time to time. Briskly, she made her way to the densest part of the market. There were a few stalls Malkan liked to frequent before making her way through the rest of the ever changing market.

It wasn’t until the third stall that Malkan found something interesting enough to catch her attention. She was in the midst of negotiating a price for said item when she was almost ran over by a speeder car, but the stall owner pulled her away at the last minute. Malkan turned to see what all the commotion was about. The car was just a speck in the distance now but the atmosphere of the marketplace had turned from its regular controlled chaos to one that’s more panicked. Feeling uneasy, she apologized to the Seeg and dropped the item back to its originally location before slowly making her way back to her ship. She didn’t know exactly what was going on, but she had a feeling that whatever was about to transpire, she did not want to be a part of.

Malkan pinged the communication channel on her ship so the androids could have it ready by the time she got there. “Run protocol DF1Z2. Verification code: 400841.”

---

---

"Oh my, this place is pitiful." Sir KIndle was not very fond of being in filthy towns such as this one, but he didn't have much of a choice. Due to the lack of resources, Sir Kindle was sent down to negotiate a deal for a mass amount of resources such as metal, tools, and fuel. The easy part was obtaining the tools and metal, but the fuel, on the other hand, was very difficult. Sir Kindle check numerous bars and contract board but had no luck of finding a pilot that was in possession of a refueling shuttle. A few hours later Sir kindles systems began to overheat, due to the extreme temperature. The words System Overheating appeared on Sir Kindles PDA. "Oh dear, this can't be good. I should make haste to the nearest pub."

Sir Kindles walks into a bar called the Smashed Hammer. This bar wasn't the best looking place around. Rusted scrap metal cover the walls and roof. The people inside the bar looked at Sir Kindle like he was nothing, but walking scrap. Tension began to build as Sir Kindle made his way to the counter and took a seat. It was dead silent. So silent you could hear a pin drop. If they keep this up something will be dropping soon if you catch my drift. It was silent for a few minutes until a voice as rough as sandpaper spoke out to Sir Kindle.

"We don't accept your kind here. So if you wouldn't mind getting your metal ass out of here that would be great."

"fine Sir, I didn't see a sign saying I cant be in your establishment. So I'm not going to leave until I'm finished." Sir Kindle tipped his hat and looked down at his PDA and ran some calculations as he waited to cool off. The other man was shocked, to say the least about Sir kindles reaction. The man puts his weapon on the counter right in front of Sir Kindle. "How about now, you metal bitch." The thing is, Sir Kindle doesn't take kindly to threats. "Are you sure you want to do that. I wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of all your customers."

"TRY ME!" The man leans in head first towards Sir Kindle. This man just made a terrible choice. "Fine, but just remember this was all your fault." Before the poor man could even respond. Sir Kindle grabbed him by the head and smashed his head right through the counter, Absolutely destroying the counter. Sir kindle gets up and turns around to face the rest of the people in the bar. "Do any of you fine sirs want to try their luck as well?" They all just faced away from Sir Kindle and acted like nothing ever happened. "No? Ok, then I shall be on my way." Sir Kindle, tipped his hat once more and made his way to the exit, but before he could leave he had one more question to ask. "Oh, I almost forgot to ask. Does anyone have a refueling shuttle by chance?" They all just sat their silently. Not a single word was said. "I will take that as a no. Well, that's a shame, a true shame indeed."

Sir Kindle walks out of the bar and back into the blistering heat of the desert. Well, I guess it's a good thing he cant feel temperature. "Incoming call from Kindle 0253" Sir Kindles PDA was receiving a call from one of the Kindle back on his ship. So that means it has to be important. So Sir Kindles answers the call. "Hello, 0253 what information do you have for me now"

"Sir, were sending an Evac shuttle for you now."

"Why? whats going on over there?"

"Sir, we picked up many ships on the radar quickly approaching the ground of the planet." Sir Kindles was going to say to hurry up on that evac then, but something caught his eye that changed his mind completely. There was this little group of kids playing what seemed to be soccer. Sir Kindle knew that if he just left he would feel guilty about it. "Cancel that Evac for now. I'll stay here and help protect the town. make sure to send out all fighters to protect the ship."

"Copy that sir. Over and out." The call ended after that. Sir kindle glanced up at the sky to see what seems to be dropships. Piercing the sky like a bullet in the wind. "Why must this planet be full of blood-thirsty barbarians."

Katrina Makhno

The last of Katrina's soda cans found their way into the trash as she rose from her bed. Today was just the next in a long series of lazy days that cropped up between excursions. She was beginning to need to think seriously about finding another, as the money from the last was starting to dry up. Every time she thought about the money, she laughed at how she had come to taking it. She had never thought she would be in the business of accepting money to engage in guerilla warfare, but after all the corrupt assholes she had helped into power, she had started to think less of charging them for her services. The last one that paid her turned out to be a pedophile, according to the reports. Then again, she wondered if that couldn't have just been a trumped up charge to get him out of office. Yet again, she wondered if it really mattered, since the planet was bound to be a mess of politics no matter who ended up in charge. It was always the same damn story.

But whatever her misgivings, she not only couldn't afford to laze around all day anymore, but she also felt compelled to keep doing something, no matter how hopeless it all seemed. She took a seat at her desk and looked through her new messages. The first she read was an offer to help an ambitious warlord overthrow his home-planet's king. It promised a rich reward for her services. She moved on from it without a second thought. Even if she needed the money, she would never fight to help an overtly amoral movement. There was no good in helping a vicious warmonger come to power, especially since he barely made an effort to suggest he was doing this for any better reason than getting rich. The next sounded promising at first glance, coming from a "local community leader" that suggested the planetary government was negligent and corrupt, and that she was in a position to replace them with more benevolent leadership. Then Katrina saw the name, and she remembered having looked this one up in the past. She always did research on those that contacted her directly, and occasionally found out about others long before they came to her. Some there was little information on, but this woman had a bad reputation for being an enormous hypocrite about corruption on their home planet. This one she chose to reply to.

"Dear Myluria Tirell,

Go fuck yourself.

Sincerely,
Katrina Makhno"

With that message sent, she continued to search her messages until something curious happened. A notification of a new video from one of the channels she subscribed to popped up. It was a live-stream of a planetary invasion. Planet Terersg was under attack. Something about this really got her worked up. Warmongering bastards were a plague at the best of times, and here was some group of assholes making an unprovoked attack on an unsuspecting planet. Katrina put money matters out of her head, as now she was going to volunteer to take these bastards down herself.

But then she realised what really got her worked up.

She was on planet Terersg right now.

Stepping outside of the Free-Loader, she looked up to the sky and saw for herself the invasion ships descending from the sky. Cursing under her breath, she raced back inside to prepare. As dangerous as this situation was, all she could think of was how it just made things more convenient. The fight was coming to her, and she was going to be ready for it.

---

---

Eilsel carried the last parcel of goods from the pirate ship to Urune, his personal airship. He counted himself lucky that he was able to add more to his supplies that can last now for a month or two thanks to the 'generosity' of the space pirates he encountered. Not that he had a shortage of supplies, he generally just believes that having more is better than having enough. While carrying the last parcel to his storage closet, he passed the sleeping O'Gun, his trusty co-pilot, childhood friend, and lifelong companion. A bubble of snot was forming at its nose as it whimpered and made exciting noises, no doubt dreaming about chasing his prey. Eilsel chuckled then made sure to walk carefully and silently to not wake O'Gun up.

After he put the parcel in the storage closet, Eilsel was surprised to see O'Gun already woken up, jumping and barking with zeal. Eilsel crouched down next to it. "I am sorry, my friend. Did I wake you up?", he asked as he scratched its head. "You have been sleeping for hours, O'Gun, and I am betting a bag full of diamond coins that you are hungry as a lentarii?". O'Gun excitedly jumped and barked once more in response. "Very well then, follow me so we can go get your lunch", Eilsel said. He stood up and walked towards the pirate ship, O'Gun happily running and jumping around him in circles as it followed him.

He may not have been exploring Elysia for that long of a time, but Eilsel can definitely tell that it was one very odd-looking pirate ship. Large enough that it can fit a headcount of 20, steel black as the starless sky, it even looked brand new. The weird part was its circular model, resembling a very large ring when viewed from the top; there are also anti-gravity generators on the inner rim of the ship, might be used to carry huge and perishable materials without the risk of damaging it. Judging from how it attacked them earlier, Eilsel guessed that it relied on its silence in flight to fly towards and trap their target inside the anti-generator ring to prevent it from escaping, like how it did to his airship. The pirate ship had a hatch and a retractable tunnel bridge so the pirates can safely enter the airship of their poor victim without being exposed to the vacuum of space.

Perhaps the pirates thought there was only one passenger inside Urune or they greatly underestimated it, but even as the tunnel connected the pirate ship to Urune, Eilsel filled his airship with aquamarine smoke. When the airship's hatch opened, the smoke rapidly wrapped around the pirates' heads as they hopelessly screamed and covered their mouths and noses in vain. They dropped dead on the floor in seconds, their bodies jolting from shock. Eilsel willed the smoke to fill the entire ring-like pirate ship, immediately killing everyone inside it.

That was minutes ago, and now Eilsel was exploring the ship one last time to see if he missed anything worth salvageable. O'Gun was on his heels, gleefully chomping and eating on the pirates' corpses along with their clothes and weaponry. The pirate ship was still filled with Eilsel's toxic fumes as he explored. His hunch was right, this ring-like ship was stolen. While its interior was formal and classy-looking, litters of 'man garbage' was splattered around the floor: reeking pieces of used clothing, spoiled leftovers, weird looking and smelling liquid sprayed across its walls. Eilsel willed the toxic fumes to become acidic and burn a hole through each of the closed doors he hadn't opened before. He was disappointed to find out they were only the pirates' sleeping chambers.

"O'Gun, there's still more here if you are still hungry!", he called out. O'Gun happily bounded over to the chambers and ate every single dead pirate.

Disappointed that he couldn't find anything interesting left, Eilsel went to the control room of the stolen ship and, after failing to understand the ship's controls, burned all the buttons with acidic fumes. The ship's alarm blared a system malfunction and was set to self-destruct in 90 seconds. Eilsel quickly ran back to Urune and scooped O'Gun just as he was about to bite on its next meal. He was relieved to see the anti-gravity generator turned off when he went inside his airship. He closed the hatch and quickly flew away from the stolen ship. Only when Urune was far away that the stolen ship exploded.

Eisel continued to fly after that, O'Gun burping loudly and sleeping on the floor next to Eilsel's legs. He chuckled and rubbed its head. He studied his map and found the nearest planet to where they are, Terersg, and set Urune on autopilot towards the planet as he went to his chambers to wash off the smell of man garbage off his body.

A few moments later, Eilsel was drinking from canteen, O'Gun at the back playing with one of his toy balls, as he entered the planet. Before he entered Terersg's atmosphere however, he noticed spaceships of the same model flying around the planet which only gave him bad vibes. The feeling of uneasiness didn't leave him as he left Urune with O'Gun inside as he didn't want it to run around aimlessly while he looked around the place.

---

---

Reavers...

Assimilators. These techno-organic monsters were once a blight on Elysia, attempting a massive campaign to destroy free will and forcibly unite sentience under their collective assembly. They were defeated thousands of years ago. They should have been purged. But like cockroaches, they apparently survived. Raiding, taking, sometimes at the forefront of other fleets. Apparently the collective mind of these soulless monstrosities took a more mercenary pursuit. Their price, new lives to swell their ranks. Who in their right mind would ever hire such a force?

They always attack first, never bothering to coordinate with others. That way they can pick the best of their spoils.



There is the first ship, the only reaver ship it seems. Its countless Gunships, Dropcraft, and Fighters already dropping from the main cruiser to flood the spaceport below with Reavers and their white green plasma weaponry. The ship was activated by the proximity of threats... of life that dared to defy their inevitability. Even though it was only a single ship, the Reavers were known to be mindless, fearless, pitiless. They would fire on anything they saw as a threat the moment it would come within range. Thankfully or not, they needed to take prisoners, and bombardment didn't leave much materials for them to claim.

They were just the vanguard, other ships were coming up behind it, using the fearless walking husks as a shield to provide them with the ability to land without being shot at, just in case the port had the capability to.

---

From his craft on the approach vector to the planet he'd see the fleet silhouetted against the yellow tan of the planet, all of them glowing bright as they entered the planet's atmosphere. A few however, noticeably didn't, an odd opitical illusion as they appeared larger, only because they were closer. And it appeared they had seen his ship, and they could not have that, regardless of that being his intention or not. The Dominion had planned for additional ships to come to the moderately busy planet admidst their invasion. Again, the rules remained the same. Nothing, in or out. No witnesses.

Still atleast they were polite about it.

The Urune's comm system would be assailed with a number of transmissions as several ships began to break off from the main fleet and was quickly heading in his direction. One Dominion carrier class was already spewing out fighters as part of this little message.

With some spark of static from their arguably primitive systems"--Attention pilot of unknown ship, you are in restricted air space! You will power down engines and prepare to be boarded. Resist and you will be neutralized. I repeat, you are in restricted air space. Try to flee and you will be neutralized." The Urune still had some time to react. If they were making a blockade, it wasn't fully set up.

---

It would be the two pilots that would get a birds eye view of the encroaching ship, as it was entering the atmosphere just on their starboard side. Almost in response to them taking flight in their planes, is when the sky opened up into dozens, maybe a hundred of little dots. They spread out before the massive triangular ship like a swarm of bees, and being the first ships with guns hot, they were the first to be attacked.

The fighters were dive bombing them now, already the black dots became scattered with bright ones. All of them getting inevitably bigger and brighter as the first shots of burning white green plasma smattered from on high against the sands of the ground beside them, casting great plumes of dust where they struck. At this distance, it appeared their targeting was off, but considered how some of the bolts of plasma were now striking and breaking the ship wrecks and structures on the outer edge of town, aiming didn't seem to be their priority.

If the city wasn't sure of the attack, the explosions just at the edge of the city would remove all doubt.

---

The Seeg high priest was continuing leading the chants as they went through the glorious holiness of Maintenance Day. The voices sang of their praise from a hundred squeaky Seeg voices. They were loud, filled with jubilation and glee, and for a moment they were almost considered beautiful even by alien ears.

But then a shriek, a speeder horn, the squeaking of breaks. Utter chaos ruining the beautiful moment. And most damning of all it just seemed to be getting louder, almost enough for the priest to turn from his pedastle and shout "What in the hells is going-" That is when he noticed it, the triangle in the sky, the looming shadow of an invasion fleet, so many that if they were together they would blot out the sun. Then the horizon erupted with thumps, bangs, booms. Sand and fire ripping up above the forest of buildings.

The High Priest dropped his staff, never in all of his days has he seen so many. "Get... Inside.
Everyone get inside the Life Ship!" He shouted for his congregation. Joy because horror and thus from this point on did the echoes of fear and panic truly ripple throughout the city.



As the square of the ciy in a moment turned from riotous to pandemonium, those that were there would find scared people running into them, finding cover and safety where ever they could. While most went indoors, under carts, behind stalls, others ran to homes, families, ships, the gods know what else all for the sake of safety.

However at random points in the city, at intersections, at courtyards, at places left open for ships, even on roof tops, the black ships of the reavers flew down, swooping like massive graceful crows, their harsh organic angles an eyesore against the calm stability of the buildings. Each opened like a mockery of a flower blossom in spring, odd points casting blue light on the openings below, even from over a hundred feet up. Appearing in that light, phasing from nothing were the hulking masses of the Reaver Warriors. Each looked like some horrible deep sea fish had swallowed someone and merged its scaly body with them. And within each of their hands had been a rifle that also seemed to be growing out of them.

Immediately upon their appearance, they shouted, their gutteral language indecipherable to the UTIs. Sharp and nauseating. They would fire at anything, anyone that was standing still for too long or had even considered running in their direction carelessly. The air riddled with the sounds of screaming were cut by hallow Vwwoosh Vwoosh as plasma ripped through the air, causing small concussions of burning liquids that cooled to charring black scorch marks. Still, some resisted, anyone with a weapon dove for cover and tried to fight back, making sure that there were plenty of targets for the Reavers to fight, but their armor was thick. Most took the bullets as bits of metal against metal, and merely turned firing their blasts in the assailant's direction.

At'lat would lose his Garuda in the chaos, but that seemed to be something to be expected from the stranger... But regardless the six Reavers that appeared and were firing on the crowd would be a bigger issue.

Sir Kindle would see the children scatter as one of those creatures appeared right where they played, its hoofed foot crushing the ball they were just playing on.

Ripley's crew would find their answer as they needed only look up the street, a speeder taking a number of blasts as the warriors came into view. The man they snagged, seeing death behind him wriggled out of the crewman's grasp to leg it.

---

Any ship that was available, anything that even looked like it had a sail was a target for scared civilians. Some of them even attacked each other for a chance to get off planet or just protect their own. Not that it would do any good, any ship that got airborne was immediately swarmed by Reaver Gunships, their plasma lancing over the city to start tearing into the transports. Picking targets were easy. It seemed the ships were trying to take off one at a time randomly. The Gunships didn't give any of them a fighting chance.

Malkan would even see a cargo ship take off right over the buildings across the street she was on, then see it get pummeled by plasma, explode and then crashland taking out a building nearby.

Their ships, any ships however would receive a transmission over the public channel. A direct line broadcast to any receiver.

"This is Captain Sardis of the Cerebrus Gate to anyone on this channel. There's a blockade forming around Teresg as we speak! We'll need to work together to get off planet! To anyone reading this that can get to air! Get to the Cerebrus Gate on the Southeastern side! We are setting up anti-air to cover any pursuit! I say again! If you can get off the ground, get behind the Cereberus Gate! We can only get out of this if we have as many ships as we can get!"

The transmission repeated, and the line stayed open.

---

Inside the ice factory would be mildly boring for the time the Maintenance Day festivities started, and it seemed that her merchant Jeets would not be coming back any time soon. The commotion outside would only be considered a dull roar for a while, before the explosions across the city would be muffled against the insulated walls. The only indication that there was a disturbance would be the bangs, and the overhead lights that swayed slightly, casting golden light over the giant walk in freezers that were stacked atop eachother like massive bronze tan blocks, each with a door similar to a ship's airlock.

There was a sound that would appear to be much closer than what was going on outside. It sounded like clanging, banging, the sound of metal being cut away and landing. And then cursing. There were two individuals in the backroom, one female in a suit and one Ziharin. Obviously the Ziharin was doing all the work.

"Watch it with that! We need that cooling coil to work!" shouted the one in the suite

"Whats wrong with the one on the ship?" spoke the Ziharin in a dignified voice, the arc torch glimmering at the end of its claws.

"Blew last month. We're behind on maintenance."

"That explains the lack of air conditioning. Hell of a time to go shopping. There got it." This was immediately sounding by a massive bang as the coil hit the ground.

"Good, now all we have to do is survive getting across the damn city."

The factory was hit with another bang, enough to actually causing the light to fall off the ceiling somewhere and crashing to the ground with the bulb shattering.

"That's not looking to likely."

They each took opposite ends of the a pipe looking contraption and were making their way out the back of the factory.

Before the storm...

(Some music to go with this.)

Bo'Lok just parked his ship. The Qo'Kun needed refueling after the trip it had just made. The Su'Kiin jumped out of his fighter, package in hand. His job was to deliver the package to a specificly described man at the local bar. He gave some credits to the man at the refueling station, making sure to code-lock his precious ship before leaving for the bar.

It didn't take long for him to find it. Just follow the sweet smell of Elysian Beer, and you can't miss it. He entered through the door, nobody paying much attention to him. He then saw someone exactly matching the description: small and ugly. He walked up to him. "Hey there, big guy! Expecting a package?" He said casually. The small guy laughed sarcasticly. "Ha ha, but yes, as a mather of fact, I am!" He then gave the package to his recipient. "Thank you! Here are your credits." Bo'Lok crouched to accept the credits, counted them, then stood up. "It was nice doing business with you!" He then went to the bar to spend a few of his credits for a drink.

---

S*** going down

Bo'Lok just finished his third drink, when he heard commotion outside. Along with the other patrons of the bar, he stepped outside, before seeing the chaos. Military ships in the sky, explosions everywhere, the stench of burned flesh and you could almost feel death around you. It didn't take long before the chaos approached them as well: three Reavers headed straight for the bar, shooting at the crowd that was standing outside. He ducked out of the way until the shooting focused somewhere else, took out his trusty pistol, before rolling back into the open again and shooting while barely aiming at the attackers. All three were hit, immediately dropping to the ground. If they were being invaded, he needed to get the hell out of there.

He ran through the crowds, dodging plasma fire from both ground forces and the sky, before finally reaching the Qo'Kun. A small group was already desperately trying to get in, but failed to do so. Bo'Lok took out his pistol and fired straight up, hitting a hostile fighter in the process and making it crash some distance away from them. The pistol shot wasn't even that loud but the crashing of the ship made the group look around towards the Su'Kiin. "That ship is mine..." He said. The group scattered a bit, as Bo'Lok went back to his ship. He opened the lock with his password, then opened the cockpit and got in.

An mother with a small daughter approached him before the cockpit closed. "Please, take us with you!" They pleaded. Bo'Lok looked up at her while prepping his ship. "Sorry, miss, but where I'm going..." He looked straight at the Reavers' cruiser. "... you will not be much saver." He then closed the cockpit for real, and started liftoff.

As the Qo'Kun was lifting off, Bo'Lok looked at the sky in front of him. It was infested with Reaver and Dominion ships. He then got a signal on his radio. It was from the captain of the Cerebrus Gate. He pressed a button on his panel, sending a message back. "This is Bo'Lok of the Qo'Kun, and sorry Captain, but I'm pretty bad at working together. I can help you by distracting the enemy for a bit though. Just tell me when and where you need them, and I'll make it happen." That being said, he headed straight for the swarm of Reavers surrounding the Cruiser.

---

Al'at absorbed the scene in, a deep exhale of oxygen releasing from his lungs as the information before him was internally reviewed. These six creatures were foreign to the Zaldean, and oh how he loved things that were foreign. While he was sure that this was no time to start speculating, the current danger was very apparent to the hungry man-boy. How would their blood taste, he wondered? His black velvet covered fingertips traced down to his right hip, lightly making their way to become a tight clasp around the soft handle of his sword. The blade was a dark-tempered metal, shaped into a crux with a ring circumventing its guard. Glee brushed over Al'at for a moment, it had been quite a good while since he'd been able to perform. It was like stretching after a long rest, hell, it was like waking up from a coma surrounded by gifts. Six of them, infact. He flashed a toothy smile and then his legs began to move.

These "Reavers" seemed to be mostly organic, their misshapen bodies a horrible twist of perhaps some aquatic lifeform and an arthropod? This was immediately to the favor of Al'at. His graceful steps brought him to a relatively untouched wooden cart. Relatively, because of an unrecognizable corpse leaned against said cart- a pool of deep crimson soaking the sand below the body. The hot sun would dry it up quickly, but the body would be a fine tank to leech from before engaging the curious little creatures. There were still a lot of people running away or engaging the invading creatures, a small band of five, likely mercenaries of some kind- were putting up most of the fight against them. Though standard bullet-fire didn't seem to do much damage. The hardened sickly blue exoskeletons being stronger than the pew-pew, but all Al'at would need is a small cut, the slightest laceration would be an open gateway to straining the lifeblood from within the Reaver. A plan needed to be devised, but he also needed to be careful- you never know who is watching. His vampiric nature becoming apparent to those around him would paint a big red target on his back, attracting undesirables to track him down and kill him if he isn't killed here.

"Maybe I am the undesirable? Hmm." He hummed in curiosity, distracting himself from the Michael Bay action scene transpiring between the mercs and the Reavers. But now was the time for action, not inner monologues.

He quickly broke from his location, powder brown shooting behind him as his leather boots kicked through sand at breakneck speed. A thin stream of blood trailing from the corpse to his sword would follow behind him, to the untrained eye it would seem to be a very subtle red glow. The blood would slowly begin to coat the edges of the blade, coagulating to extend the edge ever so slightly over time. As he reached melee range of the closest Reaver, his right hand would lash out with his blade to cut down across the creature's forebody. Futile, the armor was thick of course. But a line of the forementioned blood was painted upon the blemish of the Reaver's armor. His left hand continued to orchestrate the blood from the body near the cart- but now his target was marked, and he instead conducted the blood towards the slash on the Reaver's chest. It continued to thicken, the moist sanguine prying and burrowing deep within to create an opening for the sword to enter. Al'at dropped to a roll, then rose back to his feet and sprinted back to cover after this action- the Reaver seemed to take insult from the demonstration and turned away from his former targets aiming now at the white tailcoat of the Zaldean.

"L'thaaaaak! Zhhhshirrrtha!" The Reaver spat and gurgled in anger, firing plasma at the woodpile Al'at hid behind blowing through it forcing him to jump away from the debris. Splinters fired in every direction, and a second Reaver now aimed at the white-garbed man. Attempting to suppress Al'at they continued to fire in his direction, and he simply ducked in cover, his sword in right hand- fingertips orchestrating in the other. And after a few moments his efforts would find success.

Blood would find its way inside the lone Reaver's body, a diagonal slit of exposure revealing ooey-gooey innards beneath. The enemy however did not notice until it was too late, the foreign substance creeping its way into the soft inner body of the invader. They targeting organs of importance, hardening into razor blades and slicing their way through the creature's body. From the outside this was unknowable, the Reaver simply stopped and began to limp around in pain. Al'at leaped from his cover, a small run of blood dripping down his cheek as he took off towards the second Reaver firing on him. As he passed the one he infiltrated, it would fall face-forward to the dust below, a well of blood pooling from its chest before a small amount is lifted up in small globules and fired towards the second reaver to follow Al'at. It splattered upon the creature's face and left shoulder, but this was followed by a barrage of steel coming from the Zaldean's sword. Eight slashes would be afflicted upon the creature, two on it's head, six on the same shoulder. This Reaver however had a little more sense to it, lashing with its superior body strength towards the man with it's gun-arm knocking him away and concussing him. He was a dainty little man-boy after all. He grunted as he fell to the sand below, his sword attempting to form some friction as he slid across the sand.

He'd stop with his back against an iron crate, pale strands knocked from their neat form into his face as he huffed in a pout of exhaustion.

"Aim for the red one! It's armor will be weaker.. I'm going to find a shady corner to recuperate." He humorously announced, breathing heavily after the exclamation. Quickly he raised to his feet once again, he was tired, but something good would come of this no matter what the outcome. Blood continued to trail towards Al'at at a slow rate as he quickly staggered away from the action a block behind the mercenaries. They would be good shields, and distractions. He pulled himself into a small shaded corner, people continued to run by in fear but he was mostly hidden from sight- enough to sate himself. Red vapor slowly flowed inside his nostrils and mouth, sighs of relief were exhumed from him as new life essence entered his body- revitalizing him. He continued on for a few moments, taking his fill but not getting carried away- than turning back to peer back at the scene behind him. The mercenaries listened to him and focused their aim on the bloodstained Reaver, breaking through the weak points on its head and executing it. The leader of the mercs shouting, "Fuckin' got him!" and pushing her subordinates to move forward with a metallic black glove waving forward. The Reaver blood tasted foul, and wasn't particularly rich in life essence either. Al'at would visibly grimace as the last of the drained essence entered his body, puckering and squinting as he pressed his digits into the sand and using his sword to pry himself up once again.

Katrina Makhno

By the time Katrina got her was ready to go, the Reavers were already swarming over the planet. It was like these guys wanted to be the most amoral villains in Elysia. Who the fuck would hire a race of insane, assimilating monsters just to get a better chance at winning? Employing the Reavers basically meant creating an enemy for anybody to fight down the track, no matter who you were. Whoever had come up with the idea to involve them was the king of all assholes. It didn't matter in the end though, because Katrina would just have to kick their asses harder, both them and the Reavers.

Just as she was getting ready to rock, the public channel opened up, alerting her to the plight of the local military. Katrina didn't have to think twice. "This is Katrina Makhno." She spoke in reply. "I'm yours to command for the day." It was entirely possible her name might be recognised. Plenty of people knew the woman that had helped topple multiple planetary governments. It would be less certain how mention of her would be taken, however. Some people thought of her as a hero that stood up for others, and some considered her nothing but a dangerously psychotic anarchist. Neither one was completely wrong, as far as she was concerned. Either way, she was going to add herself into the mix whether they liked it or not.

The Free-Loader took flight, and Katrina began to duck and weave through the embattled city, making her way to the Cerebus Gate. This place was practically choked with Reavers and their ships at this point, but none of them had anything on the Free-Loader. Between her adjustments and those of her parents, this thing could outrun most military ships on a good day. It wasn't immune to accidents, however, and Katrina heard a loud thump on the hull of the ship on the way to the gate. It wasn't long after that she heard something pounding on the door to the ship. One glance out the window showed her a Reaver had somehow managed to land on top the Free-Loader. To the brief surprise of the Reaver, Katrina actually opened the door to it. It quickly grabbed at her, trying to snatch her from the ship. Katrina simply placed something in its hand before kicking it hard, causing it to lose its grip and begin to free-fall. It was only in the midst of falling that it discovered that she had left an explosive charge in its hand, which she detonated shortly after closing the door to the ship.

No longer sparing a thought to that strange episode, Katrina continued on her way to the Cerberus Gate. While the Free-Loader wasn't built for offense, it more than made up for it by being able to outmaneuver and opponent like there was no tomorrow. If she could help by having her ship zip about putting holes in the more sluggish enemies, then that's exactly what she was going to do.

@ShwiggityShwah

@ShwiggityShwah

Well, this went to hell pretty quickly.
One moment they were trudging along the sweltering dusts, miserable, but peaceful. It seemed like things wouldn’t get any worse. The universe apparently disagreed.

It happened almost instantly it seems, before they knew it they were running as fast as they could. The mix of confusion and sheer terror drowned out any other distractions. Slowly the world around them manifested itself as searing plasma whizzed by like angry wasps. One of the men looks behind his shoulder, his face twisted into a shocked and horrified expression that is trying to masquerade as a calm one, and sees the Reavers he was running from, far enough away. His expression stops it's masquerading as the man saw what he was running from as he stumbles and almost falls to the ground, quickly pushing himself up and staggering upright before he can. The hot sand burning his palms only fuels his adrenaline.

The other man and The Statue are sprinting in front of him. One of the men appears to be clinging to the back of The Statue, without hindering it much. The man tries to speed up and triggers his second wind running as his surroundings become more and more clear, passing the other on that is on foot. Looking behind his shoulder again has he passes him, he can't see his expression due to him wearing some long, tan "scarf" of cloth around his face. The scarfed man looks him dead in the eyes, before a red-green blast suddenly erupts from his chest and he topples over. He fades into the distance as more bolts of plasma sting his body, his corpse flinching every time they hit. Internally devastated the man keeps running, now is not the time to mourn.

Quickly pulling from a holster that seems to be sewn into his khaki pants, crafted by hand (and from the stitch work, a drunk hand) he points a rather large revolver behind him, vaguely in the direction of the Reavers, he fires and the gun nearly flies out of his hand, he turns back to focus on where he is running. It doesn't matter if the shot landed, probably would've just pissed them off a bit. Fortunately, the man spots a clearing, and turns his head to The Statue and gestures it to follow him into the alley. The Statue sees this and follows him into the clearing.

The man crouches down behind a pile of trash and catches his breath. Relaxation slowly spreads over him and he begins to smile. The smile fades away at the same speed it formed.

"Bugger." He mutters under his breath. "I think they lost us now, or they just don't care about us enough to hunt us down, I don't know. He says, wheezing heavily. "What the hell are those things anyway?"

"I do not know, but it is not important, they have killed one of our crew members. The only thing that matters is that they are hostile and fairly dangerous."

"We better get going, those things might be damn good sprinters."

The man clinging to the back of The Statue nods, The Statue itself does as well. They exit out the other end of the alley and begin sprinting again, in the same direction they were going.

Garamm had plunged Fahlzarm deep into the chest of a Reaver at the moment she heard the public channel hailing her ship. She went inside, curious as to the noise, dragging the skewered Reaver in with her. It writhed and screeched, its plasma weapon warped beyond recognition, as she listened intently to the message. Garamm welcomed the new direction for her to take. She had grown bored of playing around with these Reavers. They had far too strong a fixation on these plasma guns of theirs. It was beyond her why none of them understood the majesty and utility of a good bladed weapon. It was no wonder they were defeated so long ago. At least the change in setting would allow her to dispatched them with more creativity. She yanked Fahlzarm loose from her unintentional abductee, shoved the dying creature out of her ship, and left it there to rot. She then took flight, heading for this "Cerberus Gate".

On the way over, she inevitably ran afoul of Reaver gunships that thought her easy prey. The unfortunate fact for them was that her powers made dog-fighting significantly easier for her, as just about every type of ship in Elysia had something metal in it. Engaging auto-pilot so she could concentrate, she ensnared two unwitting Reaver ships in her grasp. "Now kiss." She muttered as she smooshed the two together, both of which exploded upon impact, leaving nothing but a smoking, mangled mess that Garamm released to fall lifelessly to the streets below. Another gunship swooped upon her, clipping her ship with its plasma cannons. Once again, Garamm reached out with her powers and gripped the ship, and hurled it skyward, sending it hurtling into the underbelly of the cruiser above. She doubted it would do much damage, but it would give them pause to see one of their own ships smash into them.

Re-engaging manual control, Garamm plowed forward towards the gate again. The blades on her ship would make short work of anything stupid enough to end up in her way, and she would be ready to toss about any other ships that felt like crossing her.

Kuonlos sat on the cargo door of The Chimera and watched the Reavers spill out of their ship and begin their slaughter. The citizens scattered in all directions, seeking safety. So long as none of them tried to find refuge on their ship. "Ah, shit. Dahal, get the ship fired up. We need out before we're expected to feed any", he called. No more watching them approach.
He walked to his weapon stash, located near the entrance of the cargo hold.

Errrr..... a nice hammer. Break their hands. At least then they might heal. This hammer he brought to the cargo door. The hands grasping for saftey it did meet, to shrieks of pain and despair. They'd not like the company on this ship, anyway.

Karna saw the putrid filth from his position of laid out upon the floor. "If you shut the door Kuonlos, we wouldn't be worried about uninvited guests." Responded Karna as he rose to his feet. "I believe we better help them now. If you won't I will." The statement was a blanket statement to his two comrades Kuonlos and Dahal.

Taking a moment to register his stability and shake off the remaining sensations of the night before. The populace here knew how to drink apparently. Removing a tattered burnt umber blanket from what looked at first as the outline of another being, instead it was Karna's secondary weapon of choice his VNX-99 .AP. "Dahal, keep the ship steady." Stepping beside Kuonlos who had returned with a hammer to fight off the people that tried to enter. "Always the one to get bloody." Karna said in jest as his left hand smacks into Kuonlos' shoulder. "Let me in there." Karna said as he shifts to the middle of the door.

What happened next was a variety of sounds best scribed as mechanical as magnetic anchors securely lock Karna against the floor of the ship as he raised his weapon to his shoulder. "Reavers, always a bore to hunt." He mutters to himself, falling silent as he takes aim, finger twitching to remove the safety. "Pilot us well Dahal. I'll save who I can without allowing them close to the ship."

Karna's helmet synced with his rifle allowing him to use real time calculations to callibrate shots. He saw the flashes of purple essence past overhead and the reavers falling one by one. Then Karna fired. The bullet, a modified armour piercing tracer round collided with a reaver fighter ship. The round punctured a hole through the chassis, electronics and pilot causing the ship to eratically veer to the right. A loud hiss escapes Karna's VNX-99 .AP ignored by the operator as he watched his mark collide with another ship and those two began to collide into multiple other ships in plumes of fire, smoke and shrapnel.

Up in the quarters, Dahal had been nuzzling his head into the softest mound of pillows, with the rest of his body splayed over the rest of the bed. The wonderful bliss of laying on a confortable pile of soft woundn't last much longer however, as the sounds of combat from outside began to stir him. It was Kuonlos' voice coming through the commes combined with the ship's AI bringing up warnings about the force outside on holographic displays that finally roused him.

The displays followed the Inari as he sat up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed as he manipulated the displays and gave commands to the ship. As he did so mechanical arms came down from the ceiling and began attaching his armor to his form, partway through his final crewmember, Karna, came over the comm. Dahal didn't respond yet, merely rolling his eyes and finishing with the ship setup and let it put his armor on

Once up he used his power to teleport straight down to the ships cargo bay, appearing a bit behind his teammates. As he walked up to behind them the ship's AI forwarded a message to his helmet:

"This is Captain Sardis of the Cerebrus Gate to anyone on this channel. There's a blockade forming around Teresg as we speak! We'll need to work together to get off planet! To anyone reading this that can get to air! Get to the Cerebrus Gate on the Southeastern side! We are setting up anti-air to cover any pursuit! I say again! If you can get off the ground, get behind the Cereberus Gate! We can only get out of this if we have as many ships as we can get!"

The Inari sighed as he came up beside his crew, streching out a hand toward one of the reavers behind the crowd. Dark purple energy would build up in his hand for a short second before lancing out in a beam, hitting straight through one of the reavers and killing it instantly "Oh let them cower in the hold Kuon, we have bigger problems than a few stowaways"

"What was that, Da? I can't hear you over this.". The hammer makes a dull whoosh, then a sharp THUD

A small chuckle, then a smiling voice "Eheh heh heh... Never gets old.

THUD

Dahal looked out over the situation and saw several Reaver fighters head towards the ship.
The AI was already on it however, and the booming sound of the ships defenses could be heard firing on the first squadron. As for Dahal he raised his hand again, this time holding it more toward the sky than the enemy. Dark purple energy would again build in his hand but this time it stayed there and a rift would open in the sky. From this rift came hurling a small comet, strikiing a fighter from the sky on it's way down before devastating another group of reaver soldiers coming for their ship.

"We'll be off the ground soon. Just keep the violent ones from getting aboard"

Karna's helmet synced with his rifle allowing him to use real time calculations to callibrate shots. He saw the flashes of purple essence past overhead and the reavers falling one by one. Then Karna fired. The bullet, a modified armour piercing tracer round collided with a reaver fighter ship. The round punctured a hole through the chassis, electronics and pilot causing the ship to eratically veer to the right. A loud hiss escapes Karna's VNX-99 .AP ignored by the operator as he watched his mark collide with another ship and those two began to collide into multiple other ships in plumes of fire, smoke and shrapnel.

---

Collab with @EvenGODSfall and @Zetsuko as Karna Vex Kartellas, and Dahal, with myself as Kuonlos Van Ochens.

It was a lovely day on a familiar planet. Not that she had ever been to this place before. Simply she was accustomed to the bright sun bouncing even brighter off of the sand. And to the heat that pressed down on the people in the grand market. Ailita wore her usual grey mechanic's jumper, a giant sun hat, and a pair of thick sunglasses to protect her eyes from the glare. Batto had moved himself so his head rested upon her chest, able to get some glimpse of the heat. She had bought a fruit candy, something similar to a sucker made of some sort of cactus. It was sweet and tangy.

"Ssssssun bathhhheeee," said a silky voice. It belonged to Batto as he whispered his desire in her brains.

"Don't be silly, the day is too.... day like, to do any of that. I'd burn to a crisp," she replied around her treat.

"Waaaaarmthhhhh," he hissed.

"Deeeaaaaath," she countered.

"Meeeeanie."

"No you."

Her callused fingers kept hold of the stem as she enjoyed her flavoured treat. It seemed a day of celebration. Beautiful voices filled the air with tribal song. Even though she did not know it, she found herself humming along poorly. Shopkeeps called to her to buy her wares. She had not much money and so was looking to provide her own services. This planet had plenty of ships she could make a quick buck or two off of. Unfortunately, her dreams of playing with engines died as the sounds of threat replaced the song.

She could hear blade and gun slice through bodies. It was a sound with which she was familiar. Quickly she ducked behind the nearest stall as people began to run. What was causing such commotion? She peeped over the edge of the stall, eyes searching out the attackers.

Reavers.

She scowled and spit out her delectable treat. Jerks. Batto tutted his annoyance and slithered up the back of her skull, feathery marks forming around her face as tribal designs danced around her eyes as if she wore a moving mask. One of her arms turned completely black, glowing with cracks of light pink energy. The other formed itself into a dark grey short sword attached to her elbow. At her neck buzzing and flittering designs curled and danced causing her flesh to imperceptibly harden.

Ailita stood from her position behind the stall as the worried shopkeep watched her. "Run," she whispered to him as she found herself in the frey. She lifted her blackened arm and a beam of energy released, cutting through the reavers like a laser of doom. She had made herself well known now. She was being shot at. The energy blasts hit her and rainbows of color flashed as they absorbed the energy to place it back into the arm. With each shot, the cracks of pink grew brighter.

She walked toward them, a grim expression on her face. Normally she would have qualms about killing, though Batto thrilled on it. The Reavers were a different story all together. She blasted and cut her way through her enemies, helping the fleeing masses to escape. Eventually, she found herself with a group of mercenaries and a white-haired man. "Afternoon," she greeted what appeared to be the head mercenary. "Care for some help?" Before she could receive an answer she felt a knife in her back. It was thrown, a cleverer Reaver than the rest. He had tossed it since the plasma bullets didn't work. The knife penetrated her armor a bit, drawing red hot blood from her flesh and staining her greys. With a frown, she turned and blasted the bastard into dust. "Fucker," she mumbled. "Now I gotta get a new jumper. That costs money," she yelled at the non-existent body.

"Beeee more caaaarefuuul," Batto growled as he pushed the dagger out of her back. It clunked mutedly into the sand. Bright dancing rainbow lights gathered around the opening and shining through the tear in her greys.

"Hey now, it's not like I asked him to," she responded bitterly.



@Anders

---

---

Eilsel sighed in exasperation. He really hates situations where his life is constantly in danger; he'd rather kill off his enemies quickly and call it a day. Something tells him, however, that things are about to take a turn for the worse.

He quickly turned on his radio to reply. "Hello there fellows. This is the pilot of this ship. No need for you to be hostile."

Not soon after, Eilsel heard a reply. "What is your objective on this planet, pilot?"

"I am just a harmless adventurer passing by your planet when I realized that my ship is...", Eilsel stammered. "...About to run out of fuel. I need only to quickly land my ship on the nearest planet so I can refuel." He decided against lying. Still, the Urune does need to get refueled so he didn't technically lie.

"Negative pilot. You are-"

"Please", Eilsel jumped in before they can continue. "This is a very urgent matter. I do not know how long my ship can stay airborne this way. Please."

A few tense moments passed, then a static. "Very well pilot, you are to be escorted to the nearest fuel station. Then as part of our protocol, please await further instructions."

"Yes, I will. Thank you". As soon as he said that, a few fighter ships flew at the Urune's side and guided it towards the fuel station. The Urune landed on the fuel station as the fighters surrounded the vicinity, making sure Eilsel won't escape.

As the Urune was currently in the process of being refueled and Eilsel gave the his payment, a few of the fighters' pilots came near him and his ship. All of them, Eilsel counted five, were armed to the bone and carrying guns that made Eilsel's pistols look like toy guns. He was approached by one of them, presumably their captain, and began interrogating him about who he is, his race, and more to which Eilsel answered as abruptly as he can. When the captain wanted to inspect the Urune, Eilsel gladly allowed them. The sooner this is done, the better, he thought. The captain deemed the Urune to be non-hostile and let Eilsel stay on the planet, in the premise of not causing any trouble. After that, they rode on their ships and returned to wherever soldiers like them go on their daily basis.

Eilsel returned inside the Urune and sat down on his seat, O'Gun playing nearby with its toy. He was able to have a few seconds of silence before a message was broadcasted in the public channel. Cerberus Gate? Blockade around Terersg? What is going on? He looked outside through the window and noticed the commotion. People were running and screaming from some creatures that were killing everyone. He had never seen anything like them. He thought about it for a bit and decided to join in on the mayhem since he doesn't have anything else to do.

"O'Gun, stay here. I'm just going to cause some trouble", Eilsel said. As soon as he stepped out, he quickly scurried and hid behind one of the nearest stalls. It was only then that he realized they had plasma guns so they weren't primal as he thought they would be. He did a quick scan and saw his side of the commotion had no other people anymore aside from the creatures. Well, not living anyway.

Eilsel generated poison from his body and released it in a tidal wave towards the enemies. The creatures caught in the wave wailed in pain until they slowly die. He breathed out and solidified toxic mist into a crystal wall to shield himself from their blasts. He released spikes from side to side of the wall to the enemies. A blast almost hit his head as he turned and saw a few of them forming on his side of the wall. He quickly turned on his miasma. The creatures wailed as they fell on the ground, writhing in agony, while he made quick work on them. Eilsel slammed the wall towards the enemies on the other side and pinned them to death upon contact with a stall.

From afar he saw a horde of them running towards him. Eilsel glanced at the Urune and was glad it wasn't damaged during the battle. He then glowed and generated poison around his body. He released a mist of poison as he ran towards the enemies, eager for more.