Far away amidst a vast void, our world existed, rested within a hand of a half-dead God. This cosmic being, curious of death, torn its own heart out and froze into a static state between acute awareness and unbridled sleep. It had discovered the other side, of mortality.
Hence, the Great Ones came to alleviate this temporary symptom, however, because of their sudden separation from a collective source they became estranged. Themselves curious, such as their creator, of the individuality bestowed upon them. Through time the Great Ones molded the God’s heart into our world.
‘Our old enemies have been stirring amidst the shadows, eager to deliver a staggering blow to this empire’, a man said to his three colleagues who stood over a holographic desk.
All of them dressed in a regal fashion that reflected their high authority, that, and their clear position within the large, circular chamber. They stand in its centre-piece, surrounded by politicians of various ranks. These men and women listened to the four councilors, withheld their questions, suggestions, or any information they could gather to further their own agenda. Yet they had to wait for the chance.
Four councilors; one representing infrastructure, another for war, a third for knowledge and lastly, one for influence.
‘Indeed, my sources have investigated and discovered peculiar movements near our borders’, the man of war added.
‘Why, why now?’, the woman of knowledge asks, pinching her chin with long, thin fingers.
‘Perhaps they have got bored of killing each other’, chuckled the man of influence. Though none found it amusing.
‘We will need to fortify our defenses’
The politicians slowly rose from their seats, marvel took hold of their faces as they witnessed a black, gargantuan vessel enveloped in fire, it appeared from the upper layer of the sky. This council chamber resided at the very top of the tower it sat on, with the tower being at least seven thousand feet high. They were literally in between the clouds.
Marvel twisted into shock, then to fear and outright panic. The councilors, watched, frozen in their places as everyone else attempted to flee from the inevitable.
Like a sword through flesh, it cleaved through the tower, and shattered the supports that held it together. Everything fell, and everyone died.
A veil of mist floats whimsically above him, his eyes can just about make out the clouded white sky. As the little man moves an arm, it hits something solid. Rotating his head to see, he flaps a layer of mist away and discovers a body lying next to him. Prodding it. The person doesn’t move an inch.
‘Hello’, the little man whispers. Though that didn’t acquire a reaction either.
Darting those tiny black eyes around, something unnerving reveals itself, more of the mist began to dissipate, not entirely, but enough for him to see a land littered with bodies. Leaning up to get a further look, yes, the land is covered in bodies. Presumably dead. Checking his face, good, he still has his helmet on. Memories are beginning to return…he came here with a battalion of soldiers to capture a strategic point on the planet. This planet of poisonous gases, swamps, bogs and forests. A planet that is under the control of the Confederacy, the enemy. Clearly his battalion’s objective in taking that strategic point had failed.
A waning sun hovers above the horizon, across an alpine tundra, where highlands rose to the left and a glacier on the right. The sky, a gray canvas, that is occasionally lit by flaming debris. This debris was eventually cooled once smashing into the ground. He can feel it, the biting chill upon his purple skin. Most of that is covered by robing and armour. His right arm is the exception, it hangs nakedly with the hand gripping the hilt of his sword. This right arm, coloured in a blaze of crimson, a tattoo of some kind. Despite the cold freezing his crimson arm, it hasn’t yet cooled the fiery heart that pounds within, amongst many others.
Their ships burst out of warp into an unexplored system. But not to others. Confederacy vessels inhabit this system and in particular, one planet. A planet with a thin atmosphere composed of oxygen and its surface, coated in ice. Something of interest lies on that ice world.
‘Captain Confederacy vessels are firing!’
‘Bring the ship into battle mode and start firing on the nearest cruiser. Share any potential weaknesses to the fleet’
The ship’s lights snap into red, windows are then covered by hull armour. Both fleets let loose with their cannons, shields hammered and explosions light the dark of space.
‘They’re sending in fighters!’
‘Send our own!’
The captain turns to face the Dragon master who watches with him.
‘Seeing this with my own eyes, it has certainly piqued my interest. What could they be doing out here in the middle of nowhere?’
‘That is exactly our Order’s concern. I appreciate the help Captain, we all do’, she says, her pointy ears twinge. Master Jadena is an Avalakii, otherwise referred to as “space elves”.
