The stars are soaked with blood.
The Age of Gold has slipped by.
The Age of Silver is now tarnished.
Now is the Age of Iron.
The Stars Blood Red
The Age of Gold has slipped by.
The Age of Silver is now tarnished.
Now is the Age of Iron.
The Stars Blood Red
The air was tense and laden with pipe smoke as the men looked down at the tactical display laid out before them. As information streamed in more and more the realized the magnitude of what had come. Twenty worlds already fallen, billions of souls now enslaved. Devastation on a scale that none could truly comprehend. And now the panicked cries of help from other worlds. The Phrixapearian fleets where crushing all in there way. Imperial fleets without direction where being taken piecemeal, the worlds the guarded where now being put to the sword like the twenty before them.
Standing at the head of the table, before the collection of generals, admirals and noblemen was one man that stood a head taller than the rest. He wasnt dressed nearly as lavishly as the rest of the great men in the room, preferring a simple tunic adorned with the crest of his house upon his right breast. Neither was he the oldest, perhaps in his mid 40’s. But as he looked at the blue and white map of the Juliet Sector he felt well over a hundred. Most of the sector had already fell, and others would soon feel the fire of war if something wasn’t done.
He took a breath before speaking, “Gentlemen, it is clear now that this is no mere raid, these xenos are not testing the boundaries of our Empire. They have come in a force we have never seen. We have been taken by surprise, but now is the time for us to act. I do not intend to sit here and prepare the defense of my own house. No, this time we put and end to this threat.”
There was a murmur among the assembled men, some where eager for action. There was vengeance to be had, glory to be one. Others balked at the thought of trying to retake worlds taken by such tenatous and fierce foe. The murmur turned into a grumble as some accused other of being cowards, the grumble into a roar as men began to shout over who would lead what and who was more the fool.
“Silence!” shouted the man, “We are going to war for war is already upon us.”
“But there isn’t enough of us to hold them beck, let alone try and stop them!” Shouted a portly nobleman from the back of the room.
“No, there isn’t, but we will have to do. If I cant get my own vassals to move, than I shall have to seek aid else wear. And if there are none who will march with me, that I August vas Krick, will stand alone if I must. But I intend to stand. Radick,” August said to another slender framed gray eyed Strellian, “Issue a proclamation to all who will hear. Tell all the the High Marshall of the Eastern Marches requires aid.”
Radick nodded before leaving the room, “To the rest of you, you will either march with me or you will stand against me. Ready your houses and prepare your muster.”
Out into the cold void a message was sent. A cry for aid, a call to action. Among the hundred of request of aid that rang out from the galactic east this was the loudest. For Strellia was marching to war against the Phrixapearian invaders.