Charlie Foxtrot (IC, Any Tech, ATTN SR)

[Allanea]

As they reached the hideout, Bruce Nott pulled out a packaged chocolate bar marked Meteor, and handed it to Adrienne. “Here are some delicious calories,” – he offered, “in this case they’re in the form of some milk chocolate wrapped around some peanuts. I always carry a few bars on my person on digs.”

“Truly, an archaeologist tradition worth keeping,” the Professor pointed out. “Especially in times like this. I should tell you of that one time when I and Professor Honeycutt got lost in the Dersconi wastes and had to wait for three days to be recovered in the entrance to an old crypt. At least I think it was a crypt.”

[New Dornalia]

As they reached the hideout, Bruce Nott pulled out a packaged chocolate bar marked Meteor, and handed it to Adrienne. “Here are some delicious calories,” – he offered, “in this case they’re in the form of some milk chocolate wrapped around some peanuts. I always carry a few bars on my person on digs.”

“Truly, an archaeologist tradition worth keeping,” the Professor pointed out. “Especially in times like this. I should tell you of that one time when I and Professor Honeycutt got lost in the Dersconi wastes and had to wait for three days to be recovered in the entrance to an old crypt. At least I think it was a crypt.”

Hestia

Adrienne nodded as she looked at the chalk map on the wall. She didn't seem to be ignoring the pair, but as she nibbled on the chocolate bar she didn't seem to pay much attention. The woman only said, "That's a helluva thing...a helluva thing." She seemed to make strange hand gestures like a picture frame and so on, to figure out the best way to the surface.

She seemed deeply contemplative, and then walked over to the Archaeologists as she chewed on the chocolate bar and also grabbed some water and what looked like a small piece of bread. Adrienne took the time to savor everything, and as she did that, said, "Figuring out how to get us out. I realized I needed to eat something. Maybe it will inspire me to figure out an escape hatch."

She then asked the two, "You fellas are archaeologists? I wasn't aware this place was that old."

[CoreWorlds]

Imperial Coruscant

There is a sharp breath of intake. A bed made of fine livery. A room fit for a queen...or an empress.

For a few moments, the occupant didn't understand what was happening. The Force swirled around her, sending her strange sights, strange feelings and she was confused by her sudden appearance here.

"I am...alive." She croaked, as if she hasn't used her voice in a long time. The last thing she remembered was...yes. She was placed in a box and fell asleep. The Huntaerians did this to her. So she has failed and yet she somehow lived, being sent back...sent back to the time of her greatest height.

If this is some sort of second chance granted by the Force, then she will seize it. If this is some sort of trick by someone else, even her worthless brother, then they will pay.

For Darth Nightshade is no fool, but a Dark Lord of the Sith, and opportunities shall not be wasted. But first, she must review the state of her Empire. She cleaned herself up and dressed in the dark robes of a Sith Lord and ensured that her weapons were always on her person.

Once she stepped outside her chambers, an unexpected guest awaited her.

"Lord Vader. An unexpected surprise." The Empress frowned. "I thought you dead by the hand of Eclipse."

"As did I. It seems that the Force has given us a second chance to rule this Galaxy. And I am no longer the cripple I once was, but a man of flesh and blood once more. I shall continue to use this armor for the time being." The Dark Lord of the Sith replied as the crimson Imperial Guard fell in step behind them as they walked towards the main throne. "We have a situation. You surely have felt it?"

"Yes, a strangeness in the Force. As if it has been twisted beyond all recognition. How fares the Empire?"

"We have regained contact with most of the major planets and fleets, minus Huntaer, Chronosia, Thrashia or any of our other allies in the old Galactic Empire. Tenetia, Tantis and the worlds that were once yours are once more in your hands, and your son and husband rules Sparta as well as certain remnants of Coredia. Lord Danzo has retired and Lord Itachi has been installed as Seventh Hokage of the Shinobi. Finally, the Sith Lords are here, on Coruscant and await your arrival. Furthermore...the stars are very strange. We seem to be cohabiting two galaxies at once. Ours and the galaxy known as the Milky Way."

"Interesting. It seems to be some sort of...reset if you will." Darth Nightshade mused. "Ourselves at the heights of our power, with everything we ever had in our lives. And how curious that the two galaxies should merge as one in an instant. Any word of our old Master?"

There was a pause, then a slight note of humor in Darth Vader's voice. "I think you will need to see this for yourself."

"Eh?" Darth Nightshade frowned, but Darth Vader refused to say anything more. She fumed at Vader's suspiciously good mood and decided she will find out for herself.

She entered the grand chambers of the Imperial Throne, where the Dark Side holds strongest. Numerous Sith paused their conversations of confusion and turned to the powerful woman who ruled the Empire with an iron fist as she sat down, the Imperial Guard fanning out around her like a red cape. A Sith with red skin and barabels coursing down his chin stood by the Throne's side and bowed. "Empress. I am Lord Scourge, and these are all the Sith that, if you may remember, were resurrected by the ritual cast by Darth Sidious some time ago. Many have subsequently been slain by the Jedi or infighting. As you can see, the confusion opens a possibility to rule as one glorious Sith Empire. But there is one little problem."

"You are quite right that there is a problem!" A petulant child roared, or more precisely, squeaked. He pointed angrily at the Sith on the throne. "You are sitting at the place where I belong!"

Many are the twitters of humor among the crowd. Who is this Sith child that dares to speak to the Empress so? They expected a bloodbath in the very near future and looked forward to seeing it unfold.

The Empress looked down at the fuming child. She looked sharply at the boy, then her eyes widened in surprise and she grinned. "Well, well, well. If it isn't my old Master, Darth Sidious. Ahh, look how adorable you are now! Shall we summon the nanny for you?"

Laughter erupted in the crowd as the very young Palpatine fumed. Behind the youthful facade, Nightshade could sense the formidable powers of the most powerful Dark Lord of the Sith ever to live. Even so, it is far past time to put the formerly old man in his place.

"I have learned everything from you, my old Master. I have no need of your teachings any longer. In fact, it seems that now I am the Master." Nightshade rose from her seat. The Sith crowd stood back as the Dark Side began to build between the two powerful Sith. This is going to be good!

"You dare!" Sidious snarled, lightning dancing across his fingers. "I have given you everything! Your power! Your rule! You--"

Suddenly, a lightning-infused hurricane lashed out from the Empress' outstretched hands. The storm picked up the small Sith Lord and sent him hurling into the air. Lightning wracked him and he screamed agonizingly as he slammed into the nearest column.

The young Sith picked himself up and unleashed his own devastating volley of Sith Lightning, only for it to miss as Nightshade vanished, a droid taking her place, screaming in agonizing electronic pain before exploding. He sensed an incoming lightsaber blade and called his own to action just in time to avoid a decapitation strike. "Ah...I remember the vaunted Masaki Clan secrets. Your pitiful ninja tricks are no match for the Dark Side!"

"You are mistaken, my very young Master. I do not merely wield the Dark Side..." Nightshade cackled as even more power built within her, clashing against the child Sidious' own immense might. More power than any of the Sith has ever sensed before, even Lord Vader. And as it turned out, Lord Vader could sense a bit of his own heritage in Darth Nightshade. He has never known...so they can finally rule the galaxy as grandsire and many times great-granddaughter. He sensed another Sith among the crowd with similar talent, but it was raw, unrefined. It felt like a grandson. Perhaps he will seek out that boy as well.

"I am the Dark Side!" She howled, unleashing the power, striking with all her might. Sidious tried to withstand it and failed, screaming as every inch of his body lit up in such agonizing pain that it felt like it would never end. He collapsed in a broken heap, but still somehow conscious, glaring up at the Sith Lord with all his hate. But he was beaten thoroughly, in front of every one of the Dark Lords in this room and he knew it. "Now...acknowledge me as the Dark Lord of the Sith and serve me forever as the lowliest Acolyte...or your resurrection will be a short one indeed."

He curled up into a kneeling position. He growled at having to grovel and beg for his life. The humiliation! The audacity! "You are foolish to allow me to live, Nightshade--aaugh!"

Her lightsaber stabbed into him, narrowly missing his vitals. "It is true that your death is the way of the Sith, but there are still uses for you. We shall eke out every last bit of use from your wretched soul and then we shall discard you. You have always been a fool, allowing Tarkin to kill you the first time and allowing Eclipse to kill you again. The last time someone kills you, whether it be the wretched Jedi or one of us, it will be the last and your end will be permanent. Thrice killed and done, as my people say. But serve the Sith Lords well and in time we may acknowledge you as a Dark Lord once more. Is that understood...Acolyte Sheev Palpatine?"

The boy Sith glared up at the Sith Lord still stabbing her lightsaber into his guts. Then his glare crossed the room, looking at all the stern looks of the Sith Lords around him. He could even feel his power draining as the woman proclaimed his new role. The power draining into her through the connection they shared as Master and Apprentice...no, he looked at her in a new light. She is indeed the Dark Lord of the Sith. And he...was nothing. He bowed his head and the lightsaber retreated, breathing heavily as he struggled to use his pain to refuel his powers. "You are the Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Nightshade, and the Empress of the Galactic Empire. I live to serve you and the Lords above me. I shall die in the service of the Sith. That is my purpose as Acolyte."

"Excellent. Then you shall join Janus as his servant until further notice. Get yourself cleaned up and make your way to Sparta. You are not authorized to take a Star Destroyer, but may use a light frigate." Nightshade proclaimed. "Now go and get yourself cleaned up, Acolyte."

"As you wish, Your Majesty." Acolyte Palpatine slinked away to find a medical center.

Lord Nightshade returned to her Throne without a word. She didn't need it. She is the Dark Lord of the Sith and all the Sith bowed to her ascension.

"It would be unwise to leave him alive for long." Lord Scourge commented. "But I must commend you nevertheless. I know the pride of a Sith and you crushed the proudest of them all."

"Thank you. And yes, it is a risk, for even diminished as he is, Palpatine is still potent. But I've learned that there are fates worse than death and for one such as him, the humiliation of serving the Sith Lords above him is such a fate. Lord Itachi will keep watch over him."

"As you will." Lord Scourge bowed. "Next on the agenda...the Jedi. It is apparent that we have returned to a galaxy that is similar, yet different. Our space appears to be in the midst of some sort of spatial warp that connects the Milky Way with the Corusca Galaxy. We don't know much, but we have some indication that the Jedi have retreated to Tython due to some catastrophe. They will have sensed us by now."

"Then we shall be ready. If my brother the Emperor of Coredia is smart, he will make contact with the Jedi soon enough. From there, he will plan to strike at us. Therefore, we must make ourselves ready. Now, Lord Vader will resume his post as Supreme Commander of the Imperial Navy. I know you never enjoyed the minutae of ruling the Empire, Lord Vader. You always preferred being on the front lines and that is my gift to you. Death Squadron is yours to command once again. Win the wars to come. That is my only command."

"You have my thanks, Empress." Darth Vader rumbled.

"For you, Lord Scourge. So shadowy a mind like yourself deserves a promotion and a charge. From now on, Darth Scourge, you will command the Inquisitors as Grand Inquisitor. Hokage Itachi Uchiha will be your equal in this respect. With the two of you, the darkness will be ours to command."

"My thanks to you, my Empress." Darth Scourge bowed.

As Darth Nightshade, formerly Fiona Masaki, delivered orders and instructions with the crisp preciseness of her duties as Empress, even to the point of formulating a new Dark Council to oversee the running of the Empire, the Force rippled outwards, creating a disturbance that declared to all:

The Sith Lords have returned!

[Allanea]

The Dersconi Tundra, Leyfield Access Road One

The trucks roar forward. Avoiding orbital tracking equipment, they are road vehicles, their simple engines emitting low power. Anti-scrying enchantments conceal the secrets under their tented covers. Dark tinted glass shields the driver’s compartments as the vehicles scream forward. Under their bulging covers, the engines are straining against the weight. Inside the cabins, mercenary guards are smiling at the passing road. They are in warmth and comfort, shielded from the Tundra blizzard outside and from the rage of the planar shift. They know also that, though they are thousands of miles from danger, they are playing a part, too, in fending it off.

Staying inside the trucks are the gleaming treasures of the Samundra Manthan. Hidden in lead containers, cloaked behind spell-soaking enchanted cloth, they rest - the weapons and treasures that are expected, not to just defeat the enemies of Allanea, but to ensoure for the nation a future of prosperity.

They are escorted, of course - armored vehicles, ahead and behind the column, their turrets rotating to scan for movement. Motorcyclists, scouting far ahead with weapons. And, beyond the realm of reason, riding alongside the trucks are two horsemen. They ride forward, the mounts’ hooves clad in pure fire, fire bursting out of their mouth, the winter snow turning into steam as it. Should an observer look closely, they would discover that the mounts’ hooves are not touching the ground at all. They are flying, their fiery hooves clearing the ground by inches. The men riding them are clad in black, their long cloaks riding in the air, their faces swaddled in black cloth to protect from the frozen air of the tundra. One rider is taller, almost unnaturally so, the other shorter.

- “Now, Wil, it has worked!” - the tall man laughs. - “It is all ours!”

His friend laughs with him, the pure, crisp air of the Tundra battering their faces. The mounts speed, and the two are filled with the joy of success and speed, the first the joy that only those who live a life of risk and adventure know, the second, a joy for every freeman.

And then the tall rider laughs no longer.

The road is blocked.

There are creatures standing on it. Not human, no - there are no humans which are eight feet tall. They seem to be wearing brass armor, and their burly arms seem to be exposed to the cold and snow - but then it’s clear that this is no flesh, but metal. They stand there, likee enormous muscular statues, and several more of the giants are now appearing at the side of the road.

And there is a yet-stranger construct standing in their midst. His body seems a collection of metal cones and pyramids, linked mechanically together. Where the creature’s arms - really, a pair of sharp pyramids with spikes on near the tip - meet its elbows, there is an exposed hydraulic joints. Strangest, the creature seems to have no legs. Only a sharp, heavy-looking cone - pyramid? It is hard to see it in the blizzard - aimed downwards, its tip hovering a foot off the ground.

”Alexander Kirillovich Blaken-Kazansky.” - the creature begins, its voice metallic, emotionless, sounding machine recording, as the motorcade comes to a stop in front of it. Its voice carries, clearly, for yards and yards over the storm. ”Give up your quest. Turn over the flower, and I promise you, nobody will die this day. We are the emissaries of the God Primus. Obey His Law, Alexander. Hand over the flower.”

The tall rider stops. He takes the black cloth that had concealed his face, and casts it off. It falls in the snow. There is a dead silence, with only the whistling of the whirlwind audible. The soldiers in the convoy, his friend Wilhelm, the constructs - he counts them mentally, there seem to be about two dozen - all seem to be listening.

”There is only one Primus whom I respect, you overgrown Modron” - Alexander says. ”And you don’t look like blue blood runs in your veins. Or any blood.”

The creature moves, raising its hands - but Alexander is swifter, much swifter. He makes a single motion with his hand, straightening it in a commanding gesture. Suddenly, four fiery spheres, the size of a child’s beach-ball, sail through the air, impacting the body of the floating constructs. They explode - for a moment, the creature, and some of the statue-like constructs standing next to it, are engulfed in balls of flame. When the fire recedes, the floating monster is damaged, its body pockmarked with the impacts of the four meteors - but still, surprisingly, hovering.

Next to Alexander, his friend reaches for his weapon - a bulky plaspistol. He fires it, and fires it, and fires it. The strange, hovering emissary falls, finally, its body cracking the road’s tarmac when it finally falls. A second later, one of the steely giants in brass armor falls next to it.

“What the fuck are those-” Wilhelm begins.

And then there is thunder and lightning. The other creatures cut loose, gleaming arcs of lightning rising from the woods. For a moment, as the lightning seems to crackle just past him, the air smelling of ozone, he thiks himself safe - but then, the horse under him falls, a horrifying smell rising through the air. Around them, lightning bounces from man to man, the air filling with the screams of the injured and dying as chain lightning slashes through the escorting vehicles, motorcyclists falling off the vehicle as they are suddenly enveloped in flames. In the tented trucks, the screams of the mercenaries are heard. This is no longer a simple escort.

Several fiery meteors, just of the kind Alexander had lobbed, impact the King’s body. He screams as he is surrounded, suddenly, by searing flame. Ribs crack. Horrifying, mind-blowing pain seems to envelop Alexander’s body, just as he struggles to get up after having been thrown by his dying horse. He is a horrifying sight to behold, his face a mess of wounds, flesh sloughing off his cheeks, as he struggles to retain consciousness.

“Keep moving...” - he whispers, but nobody seems to hear him, blood assembling in his mouth - “Keep...”

The inevitables draw near, approaching the motorcade. From the woods, another of the floating, angular monsters, turns up.

For a moment, Wil’s body feels cold, and not only from the Tundra’s cold. It is the cold of despair. Alexander’s body will be destroyed. He will be a disembodied ghost. THe weapons will fall to the enemy. I will... I have the Athan, but-

The pistol is in his hand, aimed at the floating monster. He does not remember aiming it. He flicks rto burst mode, and fires. The shots rocking its body, the creature continue to advance. The mercenaries fire back - their weapons cracking the air - but it is clear this creature is far beyond them.

Alexander struggles to remain on his feet. Where the cold air touches his wounds, the pain if flabbergasting. He whispers a spell word. A single word, all he is capable of now. He feels the power of the spell surge through him, and towards the floating construct.

Suddenly - without a sound - it crumbles away, its body only a pile of metal shards on the highway.

”You’ve done fucked up now,” - Wilhelm says to inevitables. ”I’m going to kill you all.”

With his left hand, he unsheathes his sword. It is a shin-gunto, a Psychotian officer’s sword, its handle wrapped in slaver-skin. ”I.” He fires several bursts of fire, swearing as they impact the creature’s flesh. Am. Another burst shakes the creature off its feet. Am going to-

Alexander smiles, the power of his own magic pulsing through his veins, the pain receding as his skin heals. He stands next to his friend, drawing his sword. ”Kill you all”, - he finishes. ”There are only eighteen of them left.” - he notes casually, as the creatures, finally, wade out to the road. He draws his sword.

It is a different sword from the one Alexander had ever been seen using.

A very different sword indeed. Its metal a light aquamarine sheen, it appears - in this moment, at least - to be a cavalry sabre. Power seems to radiate from the weapon as Alexander wields it. ”Let’s see how inevitable they really are..” - Alexander says, as the creatures approach.

Then the two friends wade into battle.

The aquamarine blade slashes through the armor of one of the creatures as if it was cutting through water. Deep wounds on its iron chest make the creature pause, and before it can make a move, Wilhelm cuts off its head.

The fists of the terrible creatures strike, breaking ribs, shattering bones. Thunder cracks as the fists impact. The two friends are thrown off their feet instantly. Wilhelm is dazed, as blows that would have shattered a lesser man throw him through the air.

”Fuck all of you.” - Alexander whispers, and invokes a spell-word. Suddenly, and to the shock of everyone, the King is on the other end of the motorcade, a hundred yards away. ”Hey! You overweight Modrons! IT’s me you want!” - he shouts.

The creatures turn towards him. ”Wilhelm doesn’t know where the flower is!” - he shouts.

There are flashes of blue, wizardly flame, and suddenly the inevitables are surrounding Alexander. ”We can do this too.” - one of them says emotionlessly.

”Sssshit.” - Alexander says with feeling. And vanishes.

For a moment the creatures look around, confused. Their target has gone. Has he fled? Is he invisible, simply? Has he abandoned his men, and his treasure? They move back to the trucks.

And then they begin to die. One of the constructs simply falls apart, the fiery spheres tearing it limb from limb. The creatures turn - and realize, suddenly, that Alexander is seated, ten yards in the air, on the branch of a tree.

“Did you know inevitables cannot climb trees, Wilhelm?” - Alexander asks, and unleashes another spell. A radiant beam of cold, white light, cuts down another creature.

Frighteningly, the monsters begin to ascend. They are born aloft, their heavy feet treading air as if an invisible staircase was carrying them.

”You cannot stop us, Alexander”. - one of them says - and immediately perishes, its steely body smashing into the earth. Then another. Then another. The creatures ascend. They seem to move slowly - and every few seconds, one of them stops its movement, falling to the ground, shattering. Still they ascend, and it becomes clear tey are moving far faster than any creature that heavy has a right to be moving upwards at. In thirty seconds, they are ‘walking’ through the air, yards away from Alexander’s tree branch.

”My gods.” - he says to them. ”You really are overgrown Modrons.”

And vanishes again.

Wilhelm feels the pain in his body recede once more. He is no longer surprised to see Alexander next to him now.

And with a flash of lightning, the inevitables are next to them too.

“Oh please.” - Alexander says. ”We already know you can’t climb trees.”

He moves his shoulders, and now he has.... A pair of enormous wings.

”I am tired of your bullshit, Modrons.” - he says to them, and takes off. ”I’m going to bet you can’t fly either.”

The creatures’ heads turn emotionlessly as Alexander circles the field of battle.

”I can’t believe I haven’t instantly thought of this.” - he says, smirking as he circles the creatures. ”Inevitables my ass.” - the beams of spellfire cut through the air again and again. Wilhelm dodges just in time, as a massive, statue-like being falls to the ground next to him. He runs, keeping clear of the vast reach of the inevitables, and avoiding their corpses as they crash onto the earth. As he is thirty yards away, he turns around, bringing his pistol to bear again - and discovers there’s only three of the creatures remaining.

Within seconds, plasma fire and spell fire wipes them out.

“Well.” - Alexander says, as he comes down to the tarmac, the wings folding behind his back. ”Thank you, Wilhelm, seriously thank you. Now let’s see if we can help those poor bastards in the trucks - and see if the engines are still rolling. I don’t fancy walking to Leyfield.”

[Imeriata]

"What in the divine name of the Rose!" Björn Björnssen shouted in surprise as the Nicksyllvanian trader exploded. This following a long session of haggling to allow the trader to transport several crates of foreign tobacco past customs despite not being part of the guild and operating out of a guild harbour. The corpse toppled over into the murky waters and were quickly set upon by the local predators that hung around the harbour in case the fishermen dropped parts of their catches. However while some foreigners would assume sharks so was this far from the case. "flodulf" they were called in the good old tongue or River wolves in Anglomål, but the creature was neither shark nor wolf, it looked like a large fat otter with an absurdly long but narrow snout filled with sharp teeth. Despite it's aquatic hunting ground was the animal closer related to a wolf than to a shark since the creature was a mammal, a Cetacea to be more precise. It's ocean living relatives being the majestic whales that roamed the oceans while the river wolves ancestors had stayed in the Scanderan rivers and shorelines living as an amphibious predator while it's cousins took to the oceans. Normally so would they ignore larger prey like a human (half of one though was more of an issue and one of the reasons halflings preferred dry land) but they were not above scavenging.

Sharks in Scandera were bulky creatures that lived mostly on filtering plankton way out in the oceans and were the prey for aquatic super predators like Krakens, seawyrms, and sea dragons. Björn despite his fascination for marine biology decided that this might not be the time to reflect on the complexity of the Scanderan marine ecosystem as he bolted for cover. Remembering the stern Corporal from his school days in military education did he bolt in a zig zag manner to present a harder target as he rushed away from the pier. A pier that went up in flames as missiles and cannon fire hit it out of nowhere.

"WHAT IN ALL THE FROZEN HELLS?!?" He called out in shock as he rose up, the explosion had threw him from the ground and pushed him heavily into the cobblestone and in the same time broken the glass windows of the houses across the street. Heads were popping out all around as angry men of the families owning said windows took to the street with their weapons. Assuming it was some punk with a grenade. However their collections of swords, daggers, pistols, and rifles seemed to be woefully insufficient compared to the ships that rolled out of the dark night mist and they quickly bolted back into their homes again.

Björn deciding that it was better to be safe than sorry bolted for one of the houses and were waved through the door by a young Rån man and his father.
"What are we going for sir?" The man asked as his son offered Björn a pistol, an old model but not too out of the ordinary from civilians, as most federal subjects had some sort of self defence to keep wildlife at bay. Even if that was not needed in the city so did the traditions not die quickly.
"Send off the women?" Björn asked as he took the pistol offered to him. The two non-humans pointed at a rear door that was wide open and in the distance could one see several figures disappearing into the labyrinthine layout that Scanderan cities seemed to be so fond of.
"Where the buggery did even those things come from? How in the name of all divine fire would a navy be able to just sneak up on us like that?" The kid asked as they took cover near the window, seemingly being some of the few that was damned sure to make hell for anyone trying to make a landing. Not exactly the best plan against naval ships, but it was that or letting the house be ransacked Björn supposed and Scanderans did not grow to rule an empire upon which the sun never set by looking at the toughest chap they could spot and nodding to themselves thinking "Yeah, I can take this loser in a fist fight!".

"Most likely planning a counter attack! Either that or the royal aerocorps I suppose!" Björn offered. In the distance however could one hear the shrieking sirens as the peacekeepers started to react to the harbour blowing up, preferably bringing the town militia and the temple guard as well.

[Allanea]

OOC: As I have said previously to Skarr, were he to drop out of contact for 30 days or more, we would proceed as if the Chaos forces around Amras had retreated back to the Warp. It has now been more than 30 days, so I am just kind of proceeding from there.

IC:

Amras

Suddenly, the Chaos forces begin to fall back. In orbit, the Enemy’s warships withdraw into perverse, glowing portals into the Immaterium. On the ground, the Chaos Marines and demons vanish likewise. Warchief Koragon’s forces fight on for a while as Acheron’s forces vanish, but soon they either run off, or are slaughtered.

Suddenly, as soon as it has started, the quiet resumes. The planet, dislocated from its orbit like a man’s shoulder driven from its shoulder by an inexorable force, floats through space, grey, radioactive smoke floating through its atmosphere. In the coming days, the government of the Free Kingdom will send the C’tani a message of thanks for their assistance, written, as per custom, on slaver-skin parchment.

Some Allaneans - the particularly foolish or avaricious once - may disagree. In the coming days, lawsuits will be filed - several hundred in number - against the C’tani fleet for the dislocation of Amras from its orbit. They will be, of course, laughed out of court, and in some cases fines for wasting the court’s time. Those foolish enough not to have war insurance are out of luck, and probably forced to seek a new life in the colonies, away from the ravaged planet.

Thus ends the Second Battle for Neo-Dallas.

[Allanea]

Official Message from Alexander Blaken-Kazansky, Emperor of Greater Prussia, King of Allanea, Reichskamphen, and Leipzig-Island, Tsar of All Russia, Archduke of Dragkon, Duke of Leyfield and Blaken-Island, Count of Centreville,Liberator of Torontonias, Friend of the Elves, Emperor of the Thousand States, President of of the CAPINTERN, and Headmaster of the Leyfield School for Girls

My friends.

The Second Battle for Neo-Dallas is over. With the chief threats to Allanea repelled, we are absolutely ready now, to move to our duties to our friends and allies. Moreover, it is time for us to help the other leader-states of Greater Prussia to secure their borders, their lands, and their citizens from the bizarre threats that beset the world in this difficult time.

For this reason, I hereby assign a force of a hundred Imperial Guard divisions, and four hundred Imperial Army Divisions, with their associated support forces, to be commanded by the Empire’s valued Marechal Ferinion nos Círdan, to be used at his full discretion, either for the defense of the borders of Menelmacar, or for the assistance to Prussia’s allies as per the strategy plans worked out jointly by Imperial leadershp. Further, attached to Marechal nos Círdan’s mighty forces will be a thousand warships of the Greater Prussian Stellar Navy, to deliver fire in my Aunt’s name.

I hereby authorize also the assignment of a thousand Greater Prussian Stellar Navy warships to the command of President Haggar, and a force of fifty divisions of the Imperial Army, to secure New Dornalia against all threats foreign and domestic.

Finally, I am organizing several Warfleets for the defense of the Prussian Realms, and our allies, to launch from Earth as soon as is viable. They will be combined forces of Allanean, Greater Prussian, and any other fleets that can be found, to destroy any fractal, extra-planar, and extra-galactic threat to the civilized world. The first to launch will be Battlefleet Coredia.

Our ground forces, meanwhile, will be organizing for counterinvasion of the planar realms from which the threats originate, to work jointly with allied governments.

I wish to finish this broadcast by thanking all those who stuck by their duties in this difficult time. The soldiers pressing back the foe. The scientists who worked on developing solutions and protections. The doctors struggling in hospital rooms against the threats of Phyrexian poison, Nurgle’s Rot, and radiation burns. The workers in the halls of the arms factories. The ordinary men and women waiting in their bomb shelters for the alarm to pass. Thank you all. You are the heroes of the hour. You are the ones to whom we owe the survival of the civilized world.

And you are the ones to whom we will soon owe our final victory.

Thank you all.

May the Gods continue to bless Greater Prussia.

[Dyste]

Royal Concert Hall, Rultah District, Valitora

---

(OoC: This part of the post is a collab with New Dornalia)

The capital city of Dyste, Valitora, was more than than the largest city in the nation, it was also the cultural center, famed for its artists and performers. The eastern district of Rultah was where they congregated, with stage plays held daily and musicians performing at the Royal Concert Hall. And while elves and Draconids were the most common races to find here, today it was kobolds that filled the hall’s seats, excitedly awaiting the most famous musicbold in Dystan history. After what seemed like ages, the rock and roll legend would finally be performing here again…

...the legend named Bob. Everyone in the Hall knew the tale and told it to their families and friends. Bob was just a humble kobold, until he met a guitar man with a funny way of talking and a new style of music. There had been others, for sure. Imitators, innovators. But Bob….he was the original. It didn’t hurt for fame that he was the bard for a group of heroes that long ago, helped foil the schemes of the Cornerians and freed oppressed Kobolds from notorious “Kobold Zoos.” Not bad for a musician working pubs as an itinerant singer when he first ran into The Team. Sylvas, Javia, Tobias Patton, Namiko, Ragash, and Hilliana. A quirky bunch, who didn’t always have good days. But Bob didn’t mind playing for them, and put up with office politics enough to do good for everybold.

Now, it was time for the legend to play again.

Like most kobolds, he wasn’t that big. But his stage presence more than made up for his short stature. Appearing in a sequined jumpsuit with a cape, to the tune of a big light show, Bob began strutting up to the microphone, and began singing one of his greatest hits. A showstopper he had honed over years of practice. Dancing in the same herky-jerky manner his Mentor had taught him, he sang boldly and proudly the old standard--”Honkbold.”

”You ain’t nothin’ but a Honkbold
Honkin’ all the time!
You ain’t nothin’ but a Honkbold!
Honkin’ all the time!

Weeeelll, you ain’t ever done right and you ain’t no frieeeeend of mine!”

As he sang, there didn’t seem much indication the Musicbold was slowing down. Oh, Bob only did this occasionally now, and with more glitz and glamour than he used to do. But as far as the audience was concerned? Bob was as good as ever. Now, Bob would get a chance to sing, and keep the spirits of the Bolds up. After all, even amidst the craziness of recent events, a break was needed somehow and besides, Bob’s inclination to do right by his fellow -bolds lead him to ask for a portion of the proceeds to be donated to purchase supplies for those fighting for freedom.

Now, hopefully, nothing would go wrong. Right?

The audience was having a great time, getting on top of their seats and dancing along to the Musicbold’s tunes (as kobolds were known to do when in a good mood even when they weren’t listening to music). They were in high spirits, getting to a Bob concert was a real treat for them. It certainly helped that most of them had not yet heard about the recent attacks on some of the other cities and the royal airship. But that was about to change…

The rumbling at first seemed to be coming from the stage, but as the kobolds ears perked up, they could tell something was wrong. Suddenly stopping their dancing, they looked in horror at the back, where a handful of goblins stood. “Gobbins?” The kobolds said, confused. They were mostly neutral on the species, knowing both good and bad ones. Sadly for them, these were known to be the mean ones when they set out wolves to attack the kobolds! “CHASEBOLDS!” they yelled in terror, either attempting to hide or scurry away. Kobolds were infamous for being rather cowardly, but dogs and their cousins held a special fear over the little dragons, having frequently been used in the past to hunt and chase down their kind. Mass panic erupted among the audience, and while they might’ve put up a resistance, they would have no chance in their current state.

Bob wasn’t about to brook intruders, much less ones which were going to turn a perfectly good night out for many kobolds into something hideous. Bob himself saw the wolves. Unlike his fellow kobolds though, he had seen worse gribblies in his time with the Team. Calmly, he remembered a move that he used to do, but it would require loudness….and for the team to remain calm. Right now, his backing band was looking ready to flee themselves.

Holding his hands out, Bob said, speaking to the audience and the backing band as calmly as possible, using the microphone, “Now wa-waitaminute, folks! Hold on. I think I’ve got an idea to deal with these here gobbins!”

Leaping into the crowd, Bob strutted forward, and began playing his guitar. A series of loud, defiant, rollicking notes would play over the sound system. To the discerning musicologist, they would seem to be little more than an aggressive “Bo Diddley beat” mixed with a standard twelve bar blues structure. However, Bob (and soon, his backing bandbolds) would play with such conviction, that no kobold would be left fearful afterwards. Especially with lyrics like:

”Size don’t matter ‘cause I’m a rockin’ bold (rockin’ bold, rock rockin’ bold!)
Size don’t matter ‘cause I’m a rockin’ bold (rockin’ bold, rock rockin’ bold!)
Gettin’ real tired of these nastybolds ‘cause they’re so cold (cold cold, chilly ice cold)”

Then, Bob turned towards the wolves, and let out a series of karate kicks and chops. The moves themselves wouldn’t do much--Bob wasn’t anywhere close to them and didn’t have much strength--but the “HOOOAH!” shout--a Sonic Scream if he ever summoned one--which was aimed at the wolves, in what could be best described as a wide cone of effect which smacked into the wolves, head on.

Hopefully, Bob had inspired the kobolds to stand up for themselves--or at least calm the audience and prevent a stampede from occurring.

Several little gasps could be heard when the wolves were knocked back by the scream. A lot of modern-day kobolds only knew of Bob as a music legend, the fact that he had been part of an adventuring team wasn’t as widespread. The kobolds also felt courage welling up within them, possibly an side effect of the music. Granted, they were aware of their own weakness, and still acknowledged they couldn’t stand up to the wolves in a direct fight. But they had other talents…

The goblins were yelling at the wolves to continue their assault, leading the little reptiles to get prepared. Once the wolves charged at Bob, a handful of chairs fell over, outright crushing two of them and blocking the way for the others. A rather crude trap, yes, but still far faster than most races could set one up. The kobolds cheered, but scurried off when they heard the other beasts breaking through. While they may not be in a panic anymore, they were still under attack…

Bob knew he had to keep going. The audience was certainly in fighting spirits now, but the enemy kept pressing them. The chasebolds would keep coming. Relentless. Moving. Pushing onwards in disregard of obstacles. What would happen now?

Then, a flash of insight came to Bob. He recalled all the skills he had used in the past. He remembered learning how to make opponents nauseated, just by the sound of his guitar. Wolves were creatures which needed balance and the kobolds were finally doing what they did best to fight back. Perhaps the two factors could be paired together?

The musicbold then interposed himself between the kobolds and the wolves. With a twirl of his jumpsuit, he played another, rather rollicking tune. It was an instrumental this time, and admittedly one he improvised on the spot. Fun, with a hint of free jazz, and keeping in tune with Bob’s rockabilly spirit. He also worked the reverb on his guitar, sending a Cacophonous Call into the horde of wolves. If done right, it would ensure the wolves would be nauseated, leaving them open for the kobolds to take charge. Of course, Bob prompted them with a spirited, “Alright, people! While they’re distracted--let’s get ‘em!”

Of course, Bob kept his kunai close. In case he had to get physical--not one of his favorite activities, sadly--he would. But he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

The effects of the bardbold’s music was evident quickly, the wolves tripping over themselves and otherwise losing their balance. Like Bob, kobolds oftentimes avoided getting into close range physical confrontations - usually because they lost those - but with this advantage, they were in prime kicking condition.

Some people wondered why kobolds resorted to kicking when having to use unarmed attacks, but it wasn’t a difficult question to answer; simply put, kobold feet were generally stronger than their hands, and they could do it quite quickly as well. With a volley of kicks, the kobolds taking turns as to not wear themselves out, the wolves slowly but surely fell to the ground. The goblins in the back were shocked, but soon brandished knives. Certainly they’d be no match for a Draconid or Orc, but for kobolds this was formidable indeed. But they wasn’t their only weapon; one of them lobbed a small bomb, and while it didn’t kill any of the kobolds, many were knocked away by the blast. Clearly they were done playing around…

Bobbold now saw his chance to tip the scales in the kobolds’ favor one more time. So far, he had shouted at his opponents, inspired his fellow kobolds, and even disoriented the chasebolds. Now, it was time to act once more.

Now, the musicbold would face the gobbins, with their knives. Bob knew not to fear a knife--he had seen more dangerous weapons in his journeys. But he knew the audience wasn’t so prepared. He had to keep the momentum going, lest the affair end in disaster and defeat snached from the jaws of victory.

Unusually, Bob began strumming a gentle tune. The Goblins, if so inclined, would probably find the whole thing funny. But any laughter would be replaced with lethargy. For Bob casually, and with appropriate calm and sedateness, began serenading the Goblin gang with a lullaby. It was an old trick he had used before, and one which he knew would work now.

The slow gentle tune would become accompanied by lyrics:

”Hush, my friends….
we’re at the end…
…..of a veerrrry long, long day!
You’ve done a lot, so far....
Now it’s time to lay down under the stars….
And leave the heavy stuff for another day…..

Bob stood confident, and even encouraged the Kobolds around him to join in and sing to the Goblins. Partly because it might make the lullaby that much better, but also because it’d keep the kobolds from breaking ranks even now.

How useful the other kobolds actually were was up for debate (“Singbold!”), but it kept them in check, and the goblins, originally amused by the musicbold and his funny words, were finding it harder to stay awake. The kobolds kept their distance regardless, not willing to get stabbed by the drowsy gobbins. Instead, they had an idea of their own: dance!

“Huh,” said one of the goblins, “These kobolds sure dance strange. Ohhh, look at me, I’m a kobold!” Imitating the dancing of the kobolds, the other goblins laughed at their ally, most choosing to join in. But seeing as they were already drowsy, exerting themselves made them even more tired, some collapsing from exhaustion. “Beaten by kobolds,” one of the only ones to not join in spoke between yawns, “How embarrassing. Seriously, if you think you can just beat us by singing and dance, you’ve got another thing coming…” granted, it seemed rather silly at this point to threaten them when the kobolds now outnumbered the remaining gobbins ten to one.

Bobbold walked up to the goblins, and then, proudly, said in a very brave tone for a kobold, “Brother, song and dance is all I need. Seemed to work well enough on y’all.” He then struck a karate pose and shouted, “HUAH!” before he high-kicked the gobbin who was still trying to get in some trash talk in true Mentor-ish fashion. Bob had his boots on, and although they only worked against gnomes--despicable creatures in and of themselves, unlike goblins--they would do for now.

Even though the boots were designed around defeating gnomes, it was still a strong kick, enough to take out a goblin quite handily. The other kobolds, invigorated by Bob’s unnatural courage, joined in, taking down the rest of the goblins. “Victorybolds!” They all said in unison, doing a victory dance. “I just hope that’s the last of them,” one of them said (in Kobosh, naturally), causing the others to stop. Sure, they were able to take down these foes, but there might’ve been stronger ones around. They looked the the musicbold for guidance; surely Bob’s wisdom would get them through this…

Bobbold would indeed get them through this. Turning to face the audience, Bobbold said in Kobosh, “Alright, now. Y’all did great back there. And lemme tell ya something--there’re many baddiebolds out there. But fellow kobolds, don’t let the world get ya down. We licked these intruders, and as long as we keep our cool and stand strong, we can get through this.” Looking around, he then said, “Now, just in case there’s more enemybolds out there, I need y’all make sure we’ve got traps and escape routes ready. I’ll also need volunteers. I’ve got a feeling there’s plenty more where that came from, and I wanna make sure that I’m wrong.”

To help them along, he played a light instrumental, designed to Inspire Competence…

The kobolds’ sprits were lifted, eager to defend themselves against their assailants. Grabbing a few of the chairs, a few of them worked on breaking them down to make traps, while some of the backstage crew offered supplies and shared information on the exits, so they knew where they could escape from if necessary. Such was Bob’s charisma that even a few offered to join the musicbold in scouting.

Kobolds were often thought of as the weakest race in Dyste. … which was true on a physical level, granted, but underestimating them would be a grave mistake on the invaders…

Castle Dyste

---

Compared to the attacks across the island nation, the massive castle in the middle had remained completely unscathed, for reasons even they were not sure about. Regardless, when the Olwean delegation arrived, they were greeted by a kobold who called over the castle steward, Strom Blackwing; the old Dark Draconid had been in service to the House of Blackfang since the founding of the nation. “Ah, Lord Olwe.” Any surprise the steward might’ve had didn’t show on his face. “I suppose you are here to talk with His Majesty about the recent attacks? I am afraid he is not in the castle at the moment, but Her Majesty is present. I recommend you speak to her first.” He gestured for them to the Audience Chamber, not that he needed to; they would’ve known their way to it by this point.

Even though the castle was on high alert and there were more soldiers present than usual, most of the kobold staff went about business as usual, though some could be seen setting up traps (but then again, for some kobolds making traps WAS ‘business as usual’). When they got to the audience chamber, a few people were present, including Coriolis Walz, the Viceroy of New Arclex; Zihark Jemson, Sage of Truth and Prime Minister of Dyste; Maizena Nictores, the Raizari princess and advisor to the king who was present during the attack on the Gungnir; a few other Sages and one of the Royal Knights; and of course, Queen Sarisa herself, sitting on her silver throne next to the empty golden one meant for the king.

“So this ‘Garland’ can resurrect himself after dying?” Zihark commented, seemingly directing his comments to Maizena. “Seems to me that the attack on the airship was likely caused by him releasing all his energy at once on the airship. Such a thing would kill him, but it matters less if you simply can automatically revive elsewhere.”

“You weren’t around when he did the same thing to th’old dining hall,” said Cori, “Seein’ as you ain’t old enough to have been around the first time we hadta deal with these fellas. It ain’t exactly the most subtle ways of makin’ a point, to be sure.”

“Quite right,” Maizena nodded; while Draconids were usually a bit taller than their Raizari cousins, Zihark was short for a Draconid and was slightly shorter than orange-scaled princess. “It’s really an inefficient way to deal damage all things considered, even for someone who can revive himself. It was more to prove a point, back then and also now.”

The queen cleared her throat, “While I find this idea of how the Emperor managed to bring down our royal flagship fascinating, it appears we have some guests. Lord Olwe, Jason, Trasta, it is good to see you all in these dire times,” she still seemed a bit puzzled about something, “... but I know that your homeland is also underattack, so… is this some sort of time displacement? Or alternate reality? Or… something else?”

[CoreWorlds]

Coredian Space, Imperial Republic of Coredia

They came in swarms of hundreds of warships, bearing down on helpless worlds defended by a meager force of Star Destroyers, Star Cruisers and assorted destroyers and frigates and other craft. The Shivans warships looked much like gigantic ticks, their beam weapons firing forward, striking any helpless capital ships or civilians without mercy.

From the small Cain Cruisers to the massive Sathana dreadnoughts, the Shivans were a merciless race of black and red death that rained down on civilizations, rendering them impotent or extinct in short order.

But the Coredians were far from helpless. Once, they faced the Shivans alone and they managed to survive against the onslaught, even destroying their vaunted Lucifer flagship at the Hell's Gate space station. Now, the Shivans faced a mighty armada never before seen. An armada that now assembles at Jurai, save for the fleets already crushing Shivan forces at every corner of Coredian space.

Jurai

"Fleet Ultrasaur reports that the Shivan incursion at Andila and Candia have been repulsed with moderate loss of life. Our new tactics, with the addition of our latest models of B-Wings and Raptor squadrons, to say nothing of our capital ship improvements, have proved to work like a charm. The older fleets are sending praises our way." Captain Felani reported to Admiral Pellaeon, Emperor Masaki and General Masaki on the situation at hand. "Fleet Megalodon is engaged with the Shivans at Kyoto and Yorkshire. We should expect similar success to Ultrasaur within the next few hours. Shipping harassment has gone down since Fleet Sovereign and Fleet Tyrannosaur have begun repulsing the enemy warships responsible."

"Damn. What a difference three decades of advancement makes." Daniel Masaki said as he looked over the holograms. "I was eight and an academy student then, packed off to Hell's Gate along with all the other children of the Academy. And even then, I almost died there."

"You were still on Coredia when the attacks happened, weren't you?" Admiral Pellaeon asked.

"Yeah. If he, I'm still there, it's going to be so strange to see someone so young and innocent and know that boy was me." Daniel said, bemused. "To say nothing of my little sister. She would hate her future self so much."

"I can only imagine, but I suspect my Coredia will be experiencing similar situations." Akihito Masaki shook his head as he sipped a cup of tea. Then he spied large amounts of bluish energy being expelled on the holograms. "Ah, and here they are. As I have mentioned before, these are the forces of the Elemental Nations. The Elemental Naval Corps is made up of many different fleets, each with their own tactical and strategic regimen. Those five fleets you see there are the fleets of the Shinobi Union. We utilize our chakra in ways you probably would have eventually discovered, but suffice is to say, our main Chakra Cannons can cut a moon in half at full power."

Daniel whistled as Imperial Republic sensors lit up, showing him just how much firepower was at their disposal. Though the fleets numbered less than than a hundred per ships, less than a third of the average CIDF fleet, their power outputs made the ubiquitous Star Destroyer look like mere frigates. "You're not kidding there. That's a lot of energy packed into these ships."

"It's all necessary, I assure you. We have many enemies and many of them are terrible forces indeed. Besides the ability to split up the beams into smaller diffusion beams to take out a swarm of targets, we can utilize the primary cannons to amplify our ninjutsu so that they can shoot at enemies in a space battle. Imagine a Rasengan against one of your Star Destroyers."

"Well, that would be rather dangerous. I think we should look into doing that. We do need to make use of our own Shinobi in more effective ways." Admiral Pellaeon said.

"We'll see." Daniel said. "Do go on, General. What about those other ships?"

"Oh, those are Samurai warships, Terran battleships, Elicoorian destroyers, and Midgard battleships. Roak, Expel and Elicoor all utilize a technology similar to Chakra Cannons called Symbological Weaponry, where they utilize a magical power called symbological force to project particle beams and magical force at their foes. It was discovered on Elicoor during their medieval phase, which, at the time, was unexpected considering the technological level at the time. The Samurai use chakra cannons like we do, but they prefer to go with KKV weapons, shooting hard and fast. The Terrans use psychokinetic powers in a similar context to our Shinobi and Mages, but in lieu of that, they use a mixture of Pokemon power, like that Pikachu on your shoulders, and laser and projectile weaponry. And Midgard uses those battleships as something like your Battlestars, able to carry a lot of fighters and punch holes in enemy forces themselves."

Daniel scratched the Pikachu on his shoulders. "Huh. So that's where this little fella came from. Tell me more about them later. You've got quite the variety here, more than we have. At the same time, it's crazy how similar your people and mine are."

"Almost as if we have the same Creator, but that would be far too much of a mindscrew, so let's leave that sort of nonsense to the philosophers." Akihito grinned.

"Quite." Daniel shared a grin, then a massive behemoth appeared in the midst of the Elemental Navy Fleet. "Oh, what's this one? It's as big as a Golan V!"

"That, my friends, is the Battlestation Odin, our Kami-class Battlestation. Twenty kilometers of death-dealing monstrosity-killing warbase designed as our mobile bases for expeditionary fleets such as this one as well as serving as our primary defense stations when they're within our space. We have a hundred of these things. We also have secondary stations, smaller and without the main cannons you see there, but much more numerous and still packs quite a punch."

"I want one!" Daniel practically drooled over the readings given off by the battlestation. Then he shook his head and cleared his throat. "Er, that is, the Imperial Republic would gladly negotiate for such a machine to be added to our arsenal at some point in our future."

Akihito chuckled at the younger Emperor's antics. "Well, we don't give up such technology easily. We're a fairly paranoid lot, after all. But I believe we can come to an agreement. Just be prepared to haggle a great deal. We will want something in return."

"Well, that's fair enough." Admiral Pellaeon said. Then a Genin rushed up to the commanders. "What is it, boy?"

"Sirs! I am pleased to report that Konoha is returned to its prime, as if the Cylon bombardments never happened. And even more strangely, the Third and Fourth Hokages, as well as a whole bunch of our Shinobi, have been resurrected somehow!"

Daniel started. "Seriously?"

So did Akihito. "Would they by any chance be named Hiruzen Sarutobi and Minato Namikaze?"

Daniel looked at Akihito, nodding. "Yep. Hiruzen was alive until Orochimaru killed him off during our Genin days -oh, hey, I forgot about that old snake bastard- and Minato was my father's best friend in their younger days, like Naruto is one of mine and they pretty much ascended to the thrones at more or less the same time. I know Dad grieves every year for Minato. I take it they were Hokage of your Konoha as well?"

"Our Third and Fourth Hokage, same as yours. We've come a long way from those days, something like three thousand years. But something tells me that your Hokage would be a bit different."

"Yeah. Hiruzen's clan and our clan are united by marriage and Minato wielded a yellow lightsaber in his days and it was the Sith who feared him the most. We didn't have many other ninja villages like you had, but we did have the Sith and it was they who had 'flee-on-sight' orders for him."

"Speaking of Sith...they've returned." The Genin reported, his hand shaking as he gave a datapad to the Emperor.

Daniel's hand was calm as he took the datapad. Long-range sensors have picked up the presence of the Galactic Empire at Nightshade's height, and Tenetia and the other planets were right back where they started from before the liberation. Meanwhile, Sparta and what's left of Coredia post-Issus appears to be led by Itachi Uchiha, who proclaimed himself the Seventh Hokage (ain't that a kick in the teeth for Naruto and Sasuke, whenever they get to show up!) and Janus has also been promoted, becoming the next Emperor due to some sort of shenenigans. That was the last thing he knew of Sparta before today. And what's worse, he could feel the Dark Side grow from a certain corner of the galaxy. It's as if, like the Shivans, a whole Sith Empire was dropped into existence.

"We'll have to deal with the Shivans quickly before we can face the Sith, though I imagine my dear sister would be just as confused and trying to assess her holdings as I am now. Nevertheless, all units are to be on alert for any Sith incursions." The Emperor ordered Admiral Pellaeon, who nodded, dismissed the Genin and turned over to the bridge crew to sound the Sith alert.

"If they're the Galactic Empire we've been hearing about, we'd have to work out plans to deal with their superweapons sooner or later." Akihito Masaki added. "Even our own technology can't fully repel the magnitude of a Death Star or Galaxy Gun attack. Well, we might be able to, but we'd need the prep-time. And kami help us if they have multiple superweapons!"

"And we'll need to be sure that our allies stand with us this time around." Daniel sighed. "Last war didn't go so well, as you may know."

"The Elemental Nations will be sure to lend aid when needed. We stand by those we call our friends, no matter what. Though you might get a lecture or two from Emperor Onoki about OPSEC and leadership, among other things, when you meet him." Akihito Masaki replied. "He wrote quite the scathing passage about your tenure as Emperor, as I recall."

Admiral Pellaeon pretended to say nothing, but he hid a smile and made a mental note to check out that paper.

Daniel winced. "I can imagine. I'll have to read it sometime. I hate it, but it's like lancing a boil. Unpleasant, but necessary."

"Quite. Now, let's get this show on the road. Can we expect anyone else?" Akihito asked.

"Well..." Daniel read a dispatch from Gracie, the Dornalian answer and the Allaneans' official statements. "We can expect the Dornalians to show up, for sure. I'm probably going to want to send help for their Nova Louisiana situation, though. Maybe I'll send the Ninth when they get back from the Yamato situation. The Allaneans are mobilizing, so we can count on them as well. And...ooh. Looks like you're having problems too, General. Tyranids in your sector, and whatever's happening around your Emperor."

"Well, shit." Akihito cursed, reading the dispatch from the Emperor's datapad. "We have heard of the Tyranids, mostly through the usual reports of one civilization or another getting devoured, but that Hive Fleet on our doorsteps...we will need to finish this Shivan business quickly."

"Yeah." Daniel began typing a reply back to Gracie. He also gave the order for the Exodus Fleet to maintain present course. Then he looked up as he sensed an old Force signature coming from Coredia itself. "Dad...?"

Daniel felt emotion well up. But he needed to finish mobilizing the fleets and getting Coredia's allies in place for the battle against the Lucifer. Even worse, he started feeling another signature, one that was so familiar that it could only be...himself. Before Daniel could think of something to say, he looked up as the comms officer shouted something.

"Sirs. We've finally got through to Coredia!" The comms officer of the Phoenix reported.

"That's the best news we've heard all day. What do they say?" Admiral Pellaeon asked.

"You'll want to hear this!"

"--this is Emperor Andrew Masaki of the Imperial Republic of Coredia. Do you read me? Reply if anyone can hear me, ASAP!"

"Get me that line." Daniel said, abandoning decorum, though nobody would blame him. "Dad. DAD! I read you! Loud and clear!"

"Wha--what in the world?! Daniel?! I haven't heard from you since Coruscant!"

Daniel frowned. "Wait, what? Last I remember you, you saved me, but Palpatine killed you in the process."

"That's...interesting, because I remember setting off a volcano after you were killed by him! I...never quite recovered after you were lost and now...I'm right back here, with your mother and you and Fiona and the twins, all still little kids. We were just about to pack them off to Hell's Gate with the other academy children when this...crazy thing with the Shivans started happening all over again and then I got reports that some future Coredia came to the rescue and...haha. This is all too insane. Pinch me, son!"

"I will. I'm mobilizing the Fleet. I'm coming! Pack the kids off as planned and we'll handle everything from here. We're hoping to finish mobilizing before the Lucifer arrives."

"Chances are, the Shivans will have noticed the sudden change in tactics and technology. Their Admiral Bosch must be wondering what's going on." Andrew said. "I think we can expect him to accelerate his plans."

"This is going to be close..." Daniel growled. Then he saw another beeping. This time from the secret base at Shinobi, the secret base recently set up by Hinata and the remaining loyalist shinobi after Sparta was taken by the forces loyal to Danzo. And another call...a code belonging to Taylor and Jacob Masaki, the twin Alchemists of the family. "Alright. Mom's there, right?"

"She's finer than fine, but she's worried about Fiona. I could sense it too. She's Sith, isn't she?"

"Yeah." Daniel sighed. "We've got a lot to talk about. I've got some more calls to make. Seems this day won't be over without more surprises."

"We can be sure of that, son. Go do what you need to do. I'll hold out as long as I can. At least I remember how the Shivans fight. We'll be able to manage somehow."

And with that, the new surprises came rolling in. Simultaneously with the revelation of his wife and daughter (and the Red-Hot Habenero of Konoha, of all people!) suddenly dropping in on Hinata's doorstep came the revelation that Taylor and Jacob managed to stop Harry Blayden from carrying out his evil plans this time around. Issus will not be black holed by a supposed ally or captured by Sith forces.

Not this time.

And the final surprise came from Issus as well. Turns out that not only did Jacob's children, Nina and Kenshin Masaki and Daniel's cousin Jacen, Rina and Keith's older brother, turn out to be hale and healthy instead of dead, so did the last Grand Master, Armas Elendil, who is recovering from wounds inflicted by the Headmaster's treachery and the Queen of Dragons, Tiamathia. Besides needing to find a new Headmaster to administer the Academies, it seems that providence, or perhaps this chaos has more or less reset the majority of Coredia to a state right before Issus was destroyed, except for Tenetian and Spartan space and the old worlds and the presence of long-dead heroes.

Truly, it is a second chance to shine for the Coredia of Jedi and Shinobi.

-----

OOC: Part 1 of 4 posts.

Kylie nodded, pausing for a moment as she looked down at her console and winced. Holding her hand up to Jesse, she then said, "Excuse me for a moment, Captain General. I have to take this." The Superior-General then left the room, wincing at the news from Operation Quincy looked interesting, in the worst sort of way. Who knew that an operation into country that the Puritans considered demon infested would....prove to be actually demon infested? She hoped and prayed that Operation Quincy wouldn't have too much blowback.

Besides, she felt something else in the Force--something massive, and quite, quite significant--like the gates of some sort of heaven were opened and brought forth great powers onto the mortal plane. Terry would feel it too, sniffing the air and looking things over. She hadn’t felt anything this serious since...well, when she first started the Order long ago.

As Walker went out of the room, Terry shrugged and said, “She must be busy. Anyway, I can say personally that these two Ordermen are not going to fail. I mean, they tend to do real good work and have a soft spot for kids.” Pulling out a couple of dossiers out of hammerspace, she then presented them to Jesse.

The dossiers themselves would be ordinary manila folders, with the images of a couple of gatas on them. Roberta J. Herrera and Millicent J. Herrera. Both of them looked fairly rough and tumble, even in the official Order portraits. If Jesse was the reading sort, he would notice several common elements to the dossiers, all of which would paint a rather interesting portrait of the women who would now be watching his brother.

One was a number of Seattle Police Department, Republican Marshals, and Order Internal Affairs Reports regarding investigations into suspicious activity by the pair, complete with mugshots. The documents would detail activities such as alleged gunrunning, alleged gang warfare, and smuggling and other lovely activities more suited for gangsters than Ordermen. And miraculously--diabolically or otherwise--the two never got charged. Not by the civilian authorities anyway. The Order Internal Affairs Department would have a report which basically amounted to a reprimand and a revocation of certain privileges for one year.

The other were other documents detailing a much more charitable and socially productive side. Namely, the files would have their accolades in terms of helping the Sanctuary District Outreach Center, back when the Order was the People’s Acolytes. Images of the two playing with small children on official brochures, serving soup, so on, could be seen. There were also commendations from the Order itself within that part of the file for the Civil War era. Lifesaving awards, commendations for logistical organization--even rank badges and tabs denoting them as having served in Henny Collins’s Ever Victorious Army and its Quartermasters’ Corps. And, there was also a pardon, signed by Superior-General Walker, attached to reports which basically showed them to be model citizens.

Terry then said, nodding and being more serious than she usually was, “Now, I will have to concede they did a lot of shady things in the past. Couple of really wierd eggs. But they had some good in them, and well, they’ve reformed enough. Superior-General Walker trusts them both with your brother’s care, and they have been briefed on the paramount nature of his safety.” She then added with a smirk, “And plus, I assured them both personally that if they let any harm come to your brother, there would be consequences delivered by myself. With an assortment of charcuterie and a crack team of Ordermen.”

Pausing, as she nibbled on her ever infinite supply of Chorizo, Terry continued.

“Now, as for your other question--the two are distinct. The Mahdi was essentially the main evil dude in the Civil War. He was once a mere Orderman named Lawrence Parseegian, who got arrested. He ran against Henrietta Collins, the lady who would become the head of what would become the Order. There’s evidence he had help from a cabal of ultranationalist politicians--this was in the UCK days--but either way, he lost and decided to stage a mutiny and take power for himself. Thus, he lead a rebellion which split the Order into two and caused the effective end of the UCK, and called himself the Mahdi, after an old Earth messianic figure. THe Civil War resulted in the deaths of a lot of Dornies, especially since the Mahdi and his forces began to dabble in the more malevolent uses of necromancy and black magic, including Sith Powers.” The last part about Sith powers was said somewhat hesitantly, as Terry had the inkling that Jesse was skilled in the arts of the Sith.

Terry then continued, “We’re like talking, massacring an entire race of lizardmen to fuel a dark curse, cutting off contact with an entire Dornie dependency in a maelstrom of psychic storms which then was used to fuel a mass zombie uprising. Both of normal dead, people long dead, and oh yes, dead people with power armor. It was not pretty. If his incarnation now is anything like the old one, he’ll have extensive use of Sith powers and necromancy, albeit self taught Sith powers so he may be a bit rusty. He also tended to be really compelling even without using the Force, so don’t be surprised if he charms the pants off of people you meet to fight for him. Fortunately for us, he wasn’t known as a particularly well organized or brilliant strategist--he had people help him with that, including Edwina Scherdvanadze--a spoiled ojou who became a terrorist that tangled with the Rangers and later a violent and very lethal XO in the Mahdi’s service. He also had the usual bad guy flaw of overestimating his own powers.”

Pausing, she then said, “As for the Daedra--well, that happened during the Nova Louisianan Wars. I remember those all too well. We got a large chunk of galactic real estate from the Eternals, but the problem was that it belonged to the Tentaculan States. The Tentaculans became divided on how to greet the newcomers. A large portion of them accepted suzerainity and even joined the Republic’s predecessor, the Workers State, but a lot of Tentaculans went to war against the DOrnalians. It became a very long, engaged and bitter war which then got thrown off the rails by Daedric incursions. No one knows exactly how they started--likely due to a Tentaculan Wizard’s mistake, we assume--but either way, the Daedra came in force. Identifying themselves as serving Mehrunes Dagon, the Daedra used powerful magic abilities, Dremora shocktroopers, and other creatures to attempt to conquer the Tentaculan lands for themselves. They thought the land was some place called Tamriel--although I don’t think they cared they were wrong either way.

In reply, the Tentaculan Rebels and the Dornalian-Tentaculan Coalition forces had to join forces to defeat the Daedric Invasion. A lot of good people died during that war, and some of the Order’s greatest heroes came during that conflict, including Sensei Tim Calvert and “Big Bear” McClung. The Daedra were finally defeated, and forced back to their realm in Oblivion at great cost using both science and magic, including the actions of the heroic Mastersmiths which successfully used an early variant of anti-magic to seal the portals. Nova Louisiana SSR was then formed by the MacIntyre-Aaang Agreement, wherein the Tentaculan States would join the Workers State, but be allowed to do so in a complicated arrangement that causes headaches to this day.”

Terry then mused, “The fact that the Daedra are back makes it clear that whatever Pandora’s Box did to interfere with the normal functioning of dimensions has opened yet another series of portals to Oblivion--and Mehrunes Dagon is likely trying for another go at conquering Nova Louisiana. If I were him, I’d have a long memory and a hateboner for the Tentaculans and Dornalians that caused him so much shit. Problem is, well, he doesn’t discriminate and from what the Order’s records on the Daedra are about, he might not stop there. Worse yet, there’s other Daedric Princes besides him of varying moral alignments, and they’ll likely want to meddle somehow also. Either way, we’ll be facing down an army of relentless, challenging daemons that want to smash things. And if the Mahdi has somehow aligned with Mehrunes Dagon or another Prince….that could be more trouble than we really need right now.”

Pausing, Terry then suddenly offered Jesse and John random chorizos from Hammerspace, going, “Anyone hungry? These are smoked and safe to eat without cooking.”

"Okay." John Watsen shrugged, taking a chorizo.

"Sure." Jesse nodded. As he ate his chorizo, he contemplated the information. The Madhi was fairly well versed in the Sith arts...for an amateur. His mother would consider that dark curse quaint by her standards, but even so, he's a considerable force to handle. At least on the level of the Nightsister Matriarch, if not the Sith themselves. He should be able to counter any Sith powers the Madhi would employ, but best not to underestimate the Madhi. He decided to up the threat level in his mind to at least Sith Master level, just to be sure. A considerable threat, but one Jesse and John should be able to handle, especially with the Order's own considerable knowledge and expertise.

As for the Daedra, he's going to need the full force of the Order for that one. Best to concentrate on one foe at a time and make sure they don't unite. Even so, he's going to need to experience the Daedra for himself to figure out how to handle them.

"Hmm. Just to be sure, is the Madhi aware of Ninjutsu? We may have an advantage if he's not. Force-based techniques and chakra-based techniques have a mutual difficulty in sensing each other, after all. In the meantime, Captain Watsen and I will focus on the Madhi first. First, where was he last sighted and what assets can we expect him to have at this time? What assets do you have in place to counter the Madhi's forces? Depending on the answer, I may have a plan to deal with him. At worst, it may require dropping a bridge or a skyscraper on him, but that's a last resort."

As he waited for the answer, he glanced at the two Ordermen's report cards. He wasn't completely sure they were on the up and up, but since Kylie vouched for them herself, he'll have to trust them.

Hmm? Jesse looked up as two very different sensations opened into the Force. The first was the feeling of a great gate opening and a holiness pouring out for a small while. The second was a presence he hasn't felt since...damn. And everything was going so well without her breathing down his neck.

"I sense the presence of Darth Nightshade, Prince Janus and Darth Vader, among other Sith. We must act quickly, for Mother may not pass up the opportunity to intervene in these situations in her favor."

***

Somewhere along CA State Route 156, Earth SSR, CRE

The Dodge Ram Spartan pickup truck was having quite the commute to Carmel-By-The-Sea. What was normally a commute through the picturesque Monterey County landscape was becoming an increasing nightmare. All around, California Highway Patrol officers and Citizens Forces soldiers could be seen patrolling the major arteries--101, 156, 183, so on. The reason of course was to keep the roads open and free from attacks by the horrors spawned by the Cataclysm. All along the road, the Dornalians could be seen engaging in aggressive patrols, shooting down chupacabra swarms with explosives and machineguns, and even the odd mortar and pack howitzer.

Of course, the attacks by chupacabras paled in comparison to the other terrors now popping up. For as Roberta and Millicent were discovering, the CHiPs and the Citizens Forces and any civilian auxiliaries now contended with undead of all sorts in their search and destroy patrols. Skeleton soldiers wearing the crude remnants of what were once Grand Army of the North and Workers’ State uniforms could be seen taking potshots at the patrols, while more conventional zombies and even a few Civil War holdouts wearing now rusted and burdensome early model T-51 armor and T-45 armor with the NOOSE logo could be seen attempting to rush the defenses. Judicious use of explosives, Sierra India devices and other weapons such as Cobra Assault Cannons helped keep the gribblies at bay, and progress was being made in containing the threats here. But as Millicent swerved to avoid the half exploded torso of a zombie and then ran over a chupacabra, she could only mumble, “Fuck this shit, man. Fuck this shit!”

“Why….you….gotta….use...such….harsh…l-language, man?” Roberta said, as she fired out the passengers’s side window at a chupacabra which tried to leap into the truck.

“Iunno, because we’ve got Goddamn Chupacabras here? And fuckin’ zombies and shit? I’m a little stressed out right now, dummy, so why don’t you fuckin’ focus on shooting!?”

“Man….” Roberta said with a sigh.

After a brief pause, Millicent then declared, “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean--you know--”

“I...know. The...heat...of....the...moment.” Roberta said with that moonfaced smile of hers, before turning to open fire on a group of Chupacabras racing towards the truck. She had a rather large Saiga-12 shotgun, one she had configured to fire full auto and rip into enemies using a lot of what amounted to small thermal detonators, designed to create a cluster-bomb effect. This became clear as the chupacabra squad exploded in liquified goo.

After that point, the two stopped, and Millicent could only go, “Shit.”

In front of them lay a massive battle. Citizens Forces teams in IFVs were firing at a small horde attempting to break through the defenses, while a Panther Mk 1 Tactical Level Armor suit could be seen dancing around using its jumpjets, firing gauss cannons and particle cannons in all its lithe, unusually crablike glory.

“‘Berta?”

“Yea?”

“Get into the flatbed and operate the Warpig.”

“O-okay….”

WIth that, Roberta dutifully exited the car and then leapt into the bed of the truck, where a heavy repeating blaster with a device attached to the bottom was ready to go. Activating the weapon Roberta shouted, “We….good...to...go…”

And with that, Millicent changed the stereo to blare loud rock music. As the guitar beat began to grow faster and faster, she could be heard revving the engine of the mighty truck, as the zombies approached.

“Not yet!” Millicent shouted at her sister, as her sister began firing at the hordes of zombies and undead coming close, the sounds of aggressive blaster fire and the smell of burning flesh coming through.

Then the song really began, with the lyrics:

“When I get high, I get high on speed/top fuel funny car’s a drug for me--”

And at that point, Millicent released the brake and shot forward, slamming into a group of zombies and sending efflua flying everywhere like a bowling pin group being hit by a ball. As that occurred, Millicent would begin driving as quickly as possible, swerving and slamming and fishtailing into zombies and the undead with a zeal unparalleled at that moment. She laughed and screamed, “SUCK ON DETROIT STEEL, FUCKTARDS!”

Roberta began firing in all directions as her sister engaged in the art of “driving like a complete lunatic”. Roberta may have talked slower than her sister, but she had a sort of common sense about her that let her know that car-fu wasn’t going to be the sole solution here. And so, Roberta fired the blaster in short controlled bursts, ripping apart and exploding zombies and chupacabras with the occasional long burst. Millie also occasionally pulled on the device on the bottom, sending out a small glowing ball which then exploded when in the middle of a group of baddies. With studied accuracy, she ripped into the swarm.

Eventually, the Citizens Forces took notice, and one of them shouted, “WOAH! HEY!” to the truck as it did its thing. Alongside the truck, the Citizens Forces’ and CHiPs actions caused the horde to fall back and regroup. Eventually, the truck pulled over and one of the CHiPs ran up to the truck.

“Holy shit. Nice shooting there, sports. License and registration?”

Milicent presented the documents, albeit unwillingly. Putting on a pair of aviators, the man looked at the documents and nodded, reading information in real time about his stoppees. Eventually, the man returned the documents and said, “Thanks. Where y’all headed?”

“We’re headed to Carmel-By-The-Sea. How close are we?”

“Fairly. Keep going south. Shouldn’t have too much more trouble.”

“Thanks, officer.” Millicent said, as she then drove off down California’s highways….with music blaring. Sure enough the Officer’s prediction was proven surprisingly right--the only sight was a few packs of chupacabras, not so dangerous now.

Soon, Kiyoshi would notice a beat up, dented Ram pickup truck, with one neko in the back trunk, another on the driver’s seat, and a lot of blood and dents on the bumpers. The driving neko got out and knocked on the door.

“Hello? THis where Kiyoshi Masaki is? I’m Millicent Herrera, my sister’s in the truck bed. We’re Ordermen and we’ve been assigned to protect y’all.”

For a while, there was silence. Then an eye peeked out of the eyehole. "Can't let you in without the proper creds! If you try to get in, I'm obligated to warn you that I've trapped the house until my brother gets back and the automatic sentry guns and the caltrops don't distinguish between friend and foe!"

What a paranoid little kid! Par for the course for a ninja-trained eight year old, though.

---

To: Unit Alpha-Six-Four-Niner-Seven, Gracie-Chu'unthor
From: Secretary of State Norton Simons
cc: Emperor Daniel Masaki, Grand Master Press Tilton of the Coredian Jedi Order, Acting Minister of Foreign Affairs Demaala Starlander
Security Level: CONFIDENTIAL//STATEDEP//ORCON (Read: Secret IC)

Unit Alpha-Six-Four-Niner-Seven, Gracie-Chu'unthor, this is Norton Simons, Secretary of State of the Colonial Republic of Earth, aka New Dornalia. And let me begin by saying that it has been a long time--especially since it has been a long time since we've heard from the Semi-Nomadic/Imperial Republic of Coredia. Last we remembered, bizarre astronomical events which destroyed your nation and the bulk of the refugees we had in Dornieland and their descendants long since became settled into Dornie society. Indeed, one of them's our Director of Central Intelligence now, and there's a whole bunch of what we call "old Coredians" living on a world we call Konoha County.

On that note, it is interesting that you note that Coredia, Juria, Jurai, Konoha and Issus have returned along with other worlds. At this point, we can assume the dimensional shenanigans caused by the Cataclysm, or as it is more crudely known, the ‘Fustercluck’ have made it so the two worlds can exist simultaneously on the same dimensional plane.

Please pass along our greeting to the Semi-Nomadic Republic's management, including Emperor Masaki himself, and it is a shame we could not meet again under less strained and crazed circumstances. It is particularly concerning to note that among the many dangers now unleashed by the current situation, that the Shivans have returned. Dornalians have not officially, to my knowledge, encountered them but we will do what we must to help stop them.

As such, please inform Emperor Masaki and all appropriate authorities that we will meet with your people at Jurai to plot a counterattack against the Shivans. I will say that the Dornalian people are experiencing a crazy situation of their own. The Republic is experiencing strange events of all sorts, to say the least.

One of the biggest problems is that swarms of Chupababras--a native cryptid known to feast on goats--have begun to infest the Solar System, along with an uprising of the dead and even reports of ghostly soldiers from Earth's past making themselves known. We are pushing the Chupacabras and zombies back using the full force and authority of the Colonial Republic's armed forces as well as any number of civilian auxiliaries. But they are proving tenacious fighters and intelligence is sparse in regards as to why the Chupacabras are even an issue.

Worse still is the presence of invasions and unrest in Nova Louisiana. Nova Louisiana is being targeted by a combined force of Daedric Invaders lead by Mehrunes Dagon and what appears to be a revival of one of the Republic's most dangerous foes--Lawrence Parseegian, the Mahdi himself, a rebel leader/necromancer/self-taught wannabe Sith leader in all but name. We don't know why they're working together. We do know it's a very bad thing. Nova Louisiana is under a state of emergency and we are doing our damnedest to push the enemy back into whatever dimension they came from.

There's also any number of gribblies. The Cooperative Union of Hajarra is experiencing a rash of terrorist activity, lead by Edwina Sherdvanadze--a woman thought to have been killed in the Civil War. Evidently, she is back and more lethal than ever. We also are hearing rumors that raiders near the approaches to the old Terran Socialist Republic--a dependency of the old UCK--have begun to make themselves felt, many of them using former Dornalian equipment and acting as pirates and stealthy sorts. It's bad.

Luckily, we are cooperating with the Allaneans to combat the menace. Our forces have begun a magical project which will hopefully turn the tide of the war. Additionally, the Order of the Vanguards--which you may have once known as the "People's Acolytes" are working with other government agencies to pursue other avenues to contest the current enemies of the Republic.

Now, as to your current questions. The Infinite Improbability Drive normally is designed to prevent random warpings. Given the reality altering effects of the Cataclysm it can only be surmised that the forces which altered reality likely also impacted the Improbability Drive as well. I am not an expert, and as such I am working to figure out what could have triggered the IPD.

As for an Imperial and Sith presence? The force known as Unified Sith does not seem to be present, and while there was a Galactic Empire of sorts it was a bit of a different animal run by the Thrashians. Thankfully, there's no real Galactic Empire and Sith just yet.

Also, I've included a packet with info on the Elemental Nations of Coredia, but suffice it to say, the ENC is a confederacy of various national entities which fields a lot of magic and a lot of ninja. They are stout, loyal, and quite brave. You'll like them.

To: Secretary of State Norton Simons
From: Unit Alpha-Six-Four-Niner-Seven, Gracie-Chu'unthor

We like them already and we haven't formally met yet. Emperor Masaki reports meeting one of their Generals and they're sending a force to help with the Shivans. I love their stuff already! Can you believe that it's a General Akihito Masaki he's meeting? That is so improbable that I'm sure the IPD has something to do with it!

Good news is, we're beating back the Shivans like they're redheaded stepchildren and the Emperor's in touch with his family, twins, wife and girl included, Travis not yet included. The Masaki Royal Family is back in action, folks! As it turns out, his father, the Emperor Andrew Masaki, is in charge of old Coredia and he's glad to have you guys. He hasn't met me yet, but he will! I hear he's a cool guy and doesn't afraid of anything, what with him being able to set off volcanoes and all!

Bad news is, you may be detecting it already, but the Galactic Empire at Nightshade's height has returned. I was so hoping they'd stay away! No formal contact yet, so they're probably still confused with everything same as we are, but we're advising our allies to keep a sharp eye out for Sith shenenigans.

Be advised that we'll send something to help out with the gribblies and nasties on your end as soon as we can free up a fleet, so here's hoping we can kill the Shivans quickly with our combined arsenals so we can get on with cleaning up this universe!

Finally, Emperor Masaki awaits the presence of New Dornalia and Allanea at Jurai. At present, we haven't seen the Shivan flagship or that major incursion that blew up Coredia first time around, but that will change very soon. We know their guy, Admiral Bosch is a sharp operator, and a magnetokinetic, to boot. He's going to make his move very soon, so get your guys in place ASAP!

OOC: Part 3 of 3

IC:

Near the Battlestar Yamato

"Well, fuck me."

The two Gracies--Heinlein and Jeishka--were working with their respective crews to figure out where to go next. For, in the words of a famous pre-Apocalypse legend, things had “escalated quickly” and had “really got out of hand, fast.”

First, the enemies they were facing were unbelievably destructive and powerful creatures, akin to dragons in space. The Heinlein’s shell game had resulted in its ability to evade the blisteringly powerful ordinance the Executioners were fielding. The Jeishka meanwhile pushed its engines and began evasive manuevers. Like a sumo wrestler trying to perform Swan Lake, it could be seen moving to evade fire, and even doing the odd “drift” like manuever to bring its guns to bear on the Executioners and others.

As to that last part, Gracie-Heinlein could only go "Nooooice," mesmerized by the sight of a large battleship drifting on a 2d plane, firing a hail of energy fire at the Executioners. For her part, Gracie-Jeishka said with a sigh, "It's not that cool. Besides, my people are pushing the ship to the limit as is. Plus, I'm getting the feeling we don't want to be hit by those things." To which Gracie-Heinlein declared, "Then we won't get hit, will we?"

The tactical data the Gracies were getting wasn’t optimistic. The Executioners had powerful shields of an unknown type and were fast and agile. The only thing keeping the Dornies alive was the fact Dornies loved big engines and big guns and generally were too dumb to know when things weren’t looking good. As it was, they were trading shots with the Executioners and their cohorts with little effect, and likewise the Executioners weren’t hitting them much. It was a stalemate.

Secondly, came the Battlestar Coredia and its cohorts. This time, the Gracies were eager to get to work. When they were called by Chief, the two looked at each other, and Gracie-Heinlein said simply, "Oh, fuck yea. Let's get these bastards." The two Gracies's avatars fistbumped, and then began sending what tactical data they had, networking with Chief to get a POV of the Dornalian vessels. Oodles of tactical data would also be provided, including realtime sitreps from the Dornie ships, which were doing their damnedest to stay together and not get too hurt. Of course, shit was happening, fast.

Even as the Coredia and its attack team pushed the Executioners into killzones, the Gracies privately breathed a sigh of relief. More ships meant less pressure on just them and the Yamato. The Dornalian vessels of course would begin pressing their attack. Chief could see the Jeishka moving about, firing broadsides of Forced Uniform Collliding Kill Projector fire at the enemy Executioners in a sort of leisurely zig-zag pattern with drifting involved, all in an attempt to keep the guns trained onto the Executioners. The Heinlein meanwhile would have its constituent portions fire away at the foe, making sure to push the enemy into the killzones.

As all this occurred, the Dornalians got a package of data about their new friend, the Yamato. The two looked at each other. They'd need to figure out a way to brief the Yamato and all concerned about the current year and situation, if the time traveling element was true. There would be a lot of explaining to do and a lot of details to hash out. But first, they would need to deal with the boss who just showed up. Mordakai's forces were flinging even more ordinance down range, this time to try and break up the fleets. The Dornies would only keep moving, shooting, and generally focused on taking the enemy down...

And then, it happened. One of the Executioners were slapped like a bitch by the Jeishka, leading the Anakin Skywalker to level its turbolasers at it, pouring so much green fire that even its shields strained and broke under the onslaught. And then together, the two warships finished it off in a spray of light.

The remaining two Executioners roared in outrage, building up their firepower as they created massive orange runes around them. They shall all die for this!

But suddenly, a voice entered Mordakai's head.

"Mordakai! The situation has changed greatly! Return to the Citadel for further orders!"

Mordakai snarled. "Master! But the Padawan!"

"Leave him for now! We will collect him in due time! Return!"

Mordakai sneered at the ships. He was sure he would be able to destroy them, but Malakai was a monster never to be crossed. He jerked his head at his remaining minion, and they both fired off massive bolts of seething red energy that would decimate entire continents. Whether they connected or not no longer mattered, for their master calls!

But rest assured, they will return with an army!

They retreated, releasing red mist as they entered Dimension Doors...and were gone.

----

The beams narrowly missed the Ninth Fleet, speeding off into the sea of space and fading away. For now, it seemed to be over.

Captain Holland read the screens. "Any sign of them?"

"Nothing, sir. Think we managed to scare them off?" His sensor operator replied, squinting as he scanned the screens for any sign of the enemy.

"Considering what they were about to do, I doubt it. Right. Coordinate with the Yamato and the Dornalians and we'll see how best to get the ship back to the Exodus Fleet. Keep an eye out for trouble. If they return, they'll return in force."

"Aye, sir."

"Looks like it's over, for now. Let's go meet this captain."

----

Little Mark Amaral sighed in relief as the enemy stopped fighting and headed back to wherever they came from. He looked to Captain Kurosawa, who nodded, then got up from his seat to help out whenever he could.

There are over ten thousand people scattered across this ship, all refugees from what was left of the Coredian civilization that was destroyed, and the ship's supplies were dwindling. Perhaps it was luck...or the Force...that enabled them to get the help they needed.

But there was still just one problem. Where, or more properly, when the hell are they now?

[New United States of Columbia]

The Armageddon, Shores of Undellah, Dyste

---

With hate in his eyes, Masamune looked directly into the reptilian eyes of his oppressor... who suddenly realized that the same emotions as filled his own mind ran in the soul of the sword-saint. The Nifei had no fear, no regrets, merely desire to rip him to shreds - and all of that... the reptilian king suddenly heard a laughter.

Laughter so loud that every oni, every human and every other warrior turned his head around to see Masamune moving his hand over his armor in a strange gesture, as if he was turning something on:

"Reactor!" he shouted with a loud, thundering voice "activate!"

His eyes suddenly begun glowing with a burning light - as if two fires were placed in there. Tyroth with ease could feel something in him - a manifestation of divine rage and desire for justice and retribution. Even without this, the samurai provided a terrifying sight... and he had no intention of giving up the fight. Especially that one.

He took a bottle and tasted a little snip of sake, before tossing it directly at Tyroth's head.

"You talk too much toad-oni!" he shouted, voice filled with rage and desire for destruction. Within a second, with a massive swing of this kanabo, he sent a powerful shockwave directly at Tyroth. The dragon king was about to enjoy a blow of his life...

---

As Masamune and Tyroth began to clash, Foley had another problem to deal with: Airborne invaders decided to come to the aid of these hellspawns. He watched as their space borne fighters began to strafe some of his ships carrying food, weapons, medicine, and so on. AA fire in the form of light and heavy laser and plasma cannons as well as conventional SAM missiles filled the skies. He spotted one of their ships, peering through the clouds. That was what they should focus on.
"Attention all ships!" The Emperor shouted over the comnet of the fleet "Focus fire on large starships! Leave the buggers to be dealt with by our fighters once they have succeeded in escorting the bombers to these demons farmlands!"
For a few seconds all firing of guns had ceased.
"This is H.E.S. Yucatan, firing all missiles at airborne ship, over."
Missile destroyers were the first to try and shoot down the Owlean starships, firing every missile they could that could reach them that high up. Streaks of fire and white smoke filled the sky as thousands of tons of TNT went screaming to the heavens, intending to strike down the hubris foes that sought to challenge God's Will on Dyste. Soon there after the AA batteries on the rest of the fleets changed target to fire at the large starships. Red laser and blue plasma began to fill the skies around the shoreline as well, streaking up like arrows, intending to kill the Owlean fleet in a Death By A Thousand Cuts.

---

Kenshin looked at the dragon warrior standing in front of him, smile appearing on his face. He knew - he knew too well - that taking down the commander is a key to his victory on this battle. Thus, he focused the only thing he knew - rage, anger, fury.

"Reactor!" he shouted "activate!"

Red lighting flew all over him as the samurai bent down, trying to regain control. Seconds after he succeeded... and his entire body begun vibrating, blurring. Then, moments later, the armor sent him outside the normal phase, leaving only blurred, vibrating shape standing before the draconid commander.

"Where are you going, yokai!?" echoed a deep voice filled with anger "You took my clan from me. Don't think that I plan on just letting your army go, toad!"

And with enormous speed the vibrating, blurred shape left it's place, so fast that the Draconid commander could not even blink. A thundering boom could be heard as Kenshin broke the speed of sound, barrier he had no plan of stopping at. Ugly scent of burning hovered over a trail if fire generated by his feet. The shape would return in it's place few seconds later - after a lightning like thunderball would pass throughout the Dystean army, leaving battered corpses of orcish warriors that did not even knew what had hit them. As the yokai horde suddenly realized that dozens of their comrades were dead, Ogimachi spoke again:

"So, yokai" he was laughing "you still want to fight? I don't care. You are an abomination to the Lord of Heaven, and in his name, I shall cleanse his creation!"

He suddenly ran again, as he Draconid commander couldn't even notice it happening, to turn behind him and strike the commander from the rear.

---

The Columbian army troops, having focused on the pig-like orcs, were caught by surprise by the anthropomorphic sharks. Teeth tearing through their uniforms and flesh left the sickening smell of blood and viscera. This would soon be followed up by the scent of cooked shark as reinforcements, armed with the more powerful but finicky energy weapons, arrived and began to fire upon their ambushers.

Meanwhile, high above, the airborne attack was going... less than smooth. Of the hundreds of fighters escorting the hundred or so bombers, only a quarter of the bombers remained and half the fighter escorts had been downed. Mostly due to the sheer numbers of draconids, gargoyles, spells, and other reality bending abilities being thrown at them. Fighters were sent flying in many directions when sucked in by an airborne tornado, had wings ripped to shreds by the sharp claws of a gargoyle, or blasted apart by lightning or fire draconids and their basic spellweaves. One of the pilots, Lt. Jackie Edwards, was attempting to "chase down" one of the more skilled of the dark draconids taking part in the aerial battle. He'd been following it to the best of his ability for seemingly twenty minutes, weaving in and out of wild dogfights and formations of Columbian aerial might, when he seemed to have her in his sights. His thick gloved hand was about to press the button that'd unleash a hailstorm of laser fire from his Stingray Deluxe Fighter, when the Owleans arrived and began to not just attack the fleet but him!
"Oh for God's sake!" He shouted over the radio as he broke chase, hoping to get back to semi friendly forces as an Owlean fighter gave chase, attempting to shoot him down.

Castle Dyste

---

The Columbian Marine squad listened as Tyroth explained what the problem was. Alex and Paul were surprised to learn this King wasn't a warrior at all but a wizard. Like out of a bloody fairy tale.
"That certainly explains a few things..." Paul muttered to himself upon hearing the revelation.
As they all got themselves seated or leaning against the walls Tyroth inquired as to their ability to use melee weapons as well as firearms.
"Well..." Gladium began "not really. Sure we know the basics of using a bayonet or a knife. But, for the most part, we let our guns and artillery do the talking. If knife work is needed we can certainly do it. How else do you think we earned the title of 'Devil Dogs'?"
He then inquired about Columbia and a trade agreement. At this Paul and Alex asked to be excused and exited to the hall.
"What do you reckon we do, Captain?" Foley asked with clear worry in his voice, the inhabitants of the Royal Draconid's office able to hear them "we're not diplomats! We're soldiers! We don't talk we kill! Besides how do we explain this to the numbskulls in Washington!?"
"Keep it down will you! I'm thinking!" Alex shouted back, pressing his hand against his temples as he thought about their options.
For several minutes it remained like this. More kobolds slithered by and seemed curious about the rare human visitors but were quickly shooed away by the faithful Marine sergeant. Finally, another ten minutes later, Captain Gladium came up with an idea.

The two marines reentered and took their places with Foley leaning against one of the walls and Gladium taking a seat near Tyroth and Jade.
"I'm not a proper diplomat so what I say is not our official position. Supposing we can ever get back to Columbia and have physical evidence to show we haven't gone Section 8, er, crazy, we'll see if we can't convince the suits in Congress to consider a proposal to try and establish official diplomatic channels with you and your people. Though, granted, that might change depending on who is in office."
He then cast a look towards the resting and relaxing marines before he loudly shouted "Blockheads! We've a mission!"
The Columbians all jumped to their feet and, after a few seconds readjusting themselves, stood at attention as Gladium pointed to the illusion of the blue and gold wolf. After realizing what it was he was looking at, Gladium grinned.
"Monster Hunters, eh?"
He looked at his Marines.
"Lock and load boys! We'll have a helluva tale for Uncle Sam!"
The Marines cheered and appeared a bit too eager to get back their weapons and do the task at hand. All except the pilot.
"Hold up dumb bells!" The Pilot shouted.
"Christ almighty..." Glaidum groaned to himself before he snapped at the man "What is it?"
The Pilot rolled his eyes before informing the Marines Tyroth had some special armor and weapons ready for them to use. Gladium gave the King and insulted look.
"You saying Fine Columbian Weaponry won't work? What the hell can stop a .308 or a damn fine 40 millimeter grenade, exactly?"

[Allanea]

It has taken valuable time for the Allaneans and Prussians to organize and respond to the threat. The Allanean ships have not yet been refitted completely with the new Mercine Drive that had taken the Emperor’s message ship to Coredian space so quickly, and the Greater Prussian Navy simply did not possess it. Therefore, it would take days, and sometimes weeks, for them to arrive.

The fleet, however, was vast in proportion. The Free Kingdom, aware fully of the Shivan threat, had detached four hundred of its ships – a mix of the infamous (or famous, if you so chose to have it that way) Porcupine Cruisers, and the wedge-shaped gravships that formed the mainstay of the Stellar Navy. The vessels of the Greater Prussian Navy itself were smaller and less potent – but they were far more plentiful. Four thousand of the grey, long structures were now making their way through hyperspace, down carefully-plotted routes, to Jurai.

The logic was simple. Use the Greater Prussian fleet to screen the Allanean warships from the swarms of Shivan fighters. Use Porcupines to form a fighter and missile defense screen to shatter the waves of Shivan attack craft. Have the gravships fight the capital ships. Win.

Mathematics seemed to be in favour of this plan. Lanchester Equations had been worked out, adapted for the complexities of contact in the era of faster than light travel. But questions remained, questions that, in the mind of the planners, hung heavily.

How would the Greater Prussian fleet fare?

Four million men, manning four thousand warships and untold myriads of smallcraft. Four million men whose vessels were designed to fight in massed, pitched battles of the kind that were just going to occur – and to be replaced easily when, inevitably, they perished. There had been other considerations, too, that limited the firepower of each individual ship.

There was not going to be an outcome to this fight in which untold thousands of men would not perish.

But it was also understood that the fight had to be fought.

Chaos.

Shivans.

Tyranids.

This was proving to be a fascinating – and in some senses, a wonderful – year for the Prussian fleets.

[Allanea]

As the Fractal events known as the ‘Great Fustercluck’ come to their conclusion, the Free Kingdom’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Ministry of War have recognized the need to construct monuments to those heroes, both foreign and domestic, that have given aid and succor to the people of Rio De Janeiro (Kurzweil Province) in their hour of need. In particular, Trooper Jar-te Vor of Sterkistan, will be commemorated. This heroic man, captured by the Phyrexian invaders, had been brought to their headquarters for torture, and there detonated a personal thermonuclear device, wiping out the enemy strategic headquarters and several of their interdimensional portals, making an allied counteroffensive possible. For this act he is awarded the Order of Hero of Allanea posthumously, the nation’s highest military award.
The statue of Trooper Jar-te Vor, in his combat armor, his foot resting on his helmet, 38 meters tall, will be placed on the mountain dominating the city visually. The sculptor Stepan Mallory will be commissioned for this art.

Additionally, an equestrian statue of duke commander Birger auf Sfartnäfe, the commander of the Imerian forces in Rio De Janeiro, will be erected in the city’s airport. His Imperial Majesty, Alexander Blaken-Kazansky, has seen feed to award the Squire Lieutenant the Order of Kutuzov, 2nd Class, and to have a sword forged for him by the jewelry experts of the University of Concord, Liberty-City. Glory eternal to the Imerian Allies!

Finally, Chosen Ayliah Mercine, Star of the Morning, Queen of Her House, will have a lifesize monument erected to her in Liberty-City’s largest park, wherein she conducted the ritual to protect the Allanan mainland from the Fractal events, saving millions, perhaps dozens of millions of Freemen’s lives in the process. She is also awarded the Medal of Freedom, Allanea’s highest civilian award. Glory eternal to the Scientists!

Research on the proper role of the Idoans in the recent operations is being conducted in order to provide the proper awards. Thousands of lesser awards are currently being issued to Allanean, Dornalian, Imerian, Treefolken, and other troops fighting in contingency operations around the multiverse.

Glory to the allies! Glory to Greater Prussia!

[New Dornalia]

OOC: Part 1 of 2 of replies to CW

IC:

"Okay." John Watsen shrugged, taking a chorizo.

"Sure." Jesse nodded. As he ate his chorizo, he contemplated the information. The Madhi was fairly well versed in the Sith arts...for an amateur. His mother would consider that dark curse quaint by her standards, but even so, he's a considerable force to handle. At least on the level of the Nightsister Matriarch, if not the Sith themselves. He should be able to counter any Sith powers the Madhi would employ, but best not to underestimate the Madhi. He decided to up the threat level in his mind to at least Sith Master level, just to be sure. A considerable threat, but one Jesse and John should be able to handle, especially with the Order's own considerable knowledge and expertise.

As for the Daedra, he's going to need the full force of the Order for that one. Best to concentrate on one foe at a time and make sure they don't unite. Even so, he's going to need to experience the Daedra for himself to figure out how to handle them.

"Hmm. Just to be sure, is the Madhi aware of Ninjutsu? We may have an advantage if he's not. Force-based techniques and chakra-based techniques have a mutual difficulty in sensing each other, after all. In the meantime, Captain Watsen and I will focus on the Madhi first. First, where was he last sighted and what assets can we expect him to have at this time? What assets do you have in place to counter the Madhi's forces? Depending on the answer, I may have a plan to deal with him. At worst, it may require dropping a bridge or a skyscraper on him, but that's a last resort."

As he waited for the answer, he glanced at the two Ordermen's report cards. He wasn't completely sure they were on the up and up, but since Kylie vouched for them herself, he'll have to trust them.

Hmm? Jesse looked up as two very different sensations opened into the Force. The first was the feeling of a great gate opening and a holiness pouring out for a small while. The second was a presence he hasn't felt since...damn. And everything was going so well without her breathing down his neck.

"I sense the presence of Darth Nightshade, Prince Janus and Darth Vader, among other Sith. We must act quickly, for Mother may not pass up the opportunity to intervene in these situations in her favor."

Terry nodded and gave, for what was likely the first time anyone saw in ages, a comparatively serious expression. Of course, Terry being irrepressibly goofy and cheery--especially where her favorite foods were concerned--her attempt to look serious came off as...well, more of a pout. As if to try and keep up at least the image of seriousness, Terry stroked her chin and said, “Indeed. We must act quickly. All sorts of events are popping up as we speak, and I think we need to put out these fires before they get worse.” She then mused, in a cautiously optimistic tone, “At least, from what I remember, the Mahdi himself was...admittedly not that bright. After all, Edwina Scherdvanadze--that famous ultranationalist fighter turned pirate, was the one who did a lot of his thinking for the really nasty events. Well, that was my impression at least--Henny thought he was a bit smarter than he let on. So we definitely have a chance when it comes to him not being able to easily counter ninjutsu, especially the Coredian styles.” Cautiously, Terry added, “However, he was charismatic and possessed of a certain...low cunning, so the risk is there that even if he doesn’t know much about ninjutsu, then he may find someone who does. Especially since you mentioned Darth Nightshade.”

Kylie then walked back into the room. Having caught the tail end of the conversation, she added, matter of factly, “Oh, I agree with the whole speed part. Especially since we’ve got reports of multiple garrisons and temples under siege. In regards to assets, we dunno much about what the Mahdi himself has, but he has been seen in the company of multiple Dremora shocktroopers who are acting as a sort of Pratetorian Guard in and around the Old Shinmei Temple in Alvaria City. Old Temple was decommissioned and turned into a War Memorial, but now it looks like it’s had enough psychokinetic baggage to bring him back. We do know what we have. Namely, the Nova Louisianan Citizens Forces and regular Armed Forces are working with us as we speak, along with various Tentaculan and Human militia groups. I can say that the Order has also begun to deploy high-level mages and other assets in country.”

She paused to show him a brief image--seemingly snapped from DornTube imagery--of Ordermen with hachimaki headbands fighting with lightsaber bayonets against Daedra (perhaps foolishly) in a manner that wouldn’t look out of place in an old medieval saga or Kabuki play. Amongst their ranks were Ordermen standing tall, firing all kinds of magic missiles and spells. One of the Ordermen who seemed to be throwing a grenade and doing her best Rambo impression, looked familiar to Terry. Terry squinted, and then developed a look of shock and surprise.

“Is that--is THAT?”

Pausing, she poked at the image, evidently losing her compsure as she looked really close at it. With a gasp and covering over her mouth, Terry then declared, “T-that’s Henny Collins!”

Kylie looked at the image and declared, with a shrug, “Huh. Thought she went into retirement? Like, reclusive retirement writing books in an Irish farmhouse retirement?”

“Looks like that wasn’t the case,” Terry said with a smile. “If that’s the case, then things will be alright.” Terry then looked at Jesse and John and asked, unusually enthusiastic, “Can I come? Please?”

Kylie raised an eyebrow and turned to Jesse and John, declaring, “Up to you. Either way, the situation is risky but long story short, you will have plenty to work with to stop the threat.”

For a while, there was silence. Then an eye peeked out of the eyehole. "Can't let you in without the proper creds! If you try to get in, I'm obligated to warn you that I've trapped the house until my brother gets back and the automatic sentry guns and the caltrops don't distinguish between friend and foe!"

What a paranoid little kid! Par for the course for a ninja-trained eight year old, though.

To that, Millicent sighed. Clearly, this kid was adapting well to the more paranoid strains of Dornalian life. Multiple defenses, sentry guns, so on. The whole thing reminded her of an old pre-Apocalypse legend involving a boy defeating two determined housebreakers with traps of all sorts. Still, she had to get in somehow.

Pausing, she stood there, and cursed Kiyoshi under her breath.

“What’s…..wrong?” came the reply from the truck.

“Nothing. Just trying to think of how to get his kid to let us in.”

“You...could….always….ask….what he wants.”

MIllicent paused, breathed in and out, and then walked back to the truck. Millicent gestured to her sister, asking, “ID. Please. Drivers’ license and Order card.” The woman complied and soon, after some rummaging in the truck, Millicent was back at the front door. Of course, Millicent knocked on the door again. With an exasperated but clearly forced patient tone, she then said, pulling out some papers from her pocket along with a copy of the IDs:

“Okay, kid. I don’t have time for shenanigans. But, because I like not having my leg caught in a bear trap, I’ll play along. I’m going to slide some ID under the door. Papers, IDs, the whole nine yards. You read those, you know we’re genuine.”

And so, everything went into the manila envelope which was slid under the door. Hopefully, the kid would ease up after all that.

[New Dornalia]

OOC: Part 2 of 2 for CW

IC:

To: Secretary of State Norton Simons
From: Unit Alpha-Six-Four-Niner-Seven, Gracie-Chu'unthor

We like them already and we haven't formally met yet. Emperor Masaki reports meeting one of their Generals and they're sending a force to help with the Shivans. I love their stuff already! Can you believe that it's a General Akihito Masaki he's meeting? That is so improbable that I'm sure the IPD has something to do with it!

Good news is, we're beating back the Shivans like they're redheaded stepchildren and the Emperor's in touch with his family, twins, wife and girl included, Travis not yet included. The Masaki Royal Family is back in action, folks! As it turns out, his father, the Emperor Andrew Masaki, is in charge of old Coredia and he's glad to have you guys. He hasn't met me yet, but he will! I hear he's a cool guy and doesn't afraid of anything, what with him being able to set off volcanoes and all!

Bad news is, you may be detecting it already, but the Galactic Empire at Nightshade's height has returned. I was so hoping they'd stay away! No formal contact yet, so they're probably still confused with everything same as we are, but we're advising our allies to keep a sharp eye out for Sith shenenigans.

Be advised that we'll send something to help out with the gribblies and nasties on your end as soon as we can free up a fleet, so here's hoping we can kill the Shivans quickly with our combined arsenals so we can get on with cleaning up this universe!

Finally, Emperor Masaki awaits the presence of New Dornalia and Allanea at Jurai. At present, we haven't seen the Shivan flagship or that major incursion that blew up Coredia first time around, but that will change very soon. We know their guy, Admiral Bosch is a sharp operator, and a magnetokinetic, to boot. He's going to make his move very soon, so get your guys in place ASAP!

Somewhere in Los Angeles, CA, Earth SSR
Colonial Republic of Earth

The reply was not long ignored by the men and women of the National Security Council. And neither were the statements issued by the Greater Prussians placing a portion of the GP forces under their command for the duration of the Emergency. Of course, one called the GP contributions a portion….just as one called a Romanian Tenderloin Steak--manufactured from a whole skirt steak no less--served with a hearty helping of steak fries at Junior’s Delicatessen a “portion.” It was big and not afraid of being big.

It was a welcome start and a comfort to all involved, especially given that things seemed to have escalated. The pirate attacks in Luxembourgia were beginning to grow in frequency and violence to the point where given the recent psychological warfare attacks upon local media, one wondered if they weren’t facing a second front in the Great Cataclysm. It didn’t help that the attack on the M/V Shenandoah outside Freedom County by the De Wynter Gang indicated that whoever was behind the Luxembourgian raids was making contact with other nefarious foes within the Republic. Worse yet, the war for Nova Louisiana was locked in bloody stalemate. The Daedra refused to quit and the humans and Tentaculans refused to quit as well. As a result, war was devastating much of the County, and something needed to be done soon. Kylie Walker’s people had apparently rustled up some “experts”--that was the only word the Order would use for them, even if pressed--who would help put the Nova Louisiana situation to bed--especially with Edwina Scherdvanadze apparently back from the dead on Hajarra itself.

The meeting, like many others of its ilk, was one which involved coffee, sugary foods, and the odd sausage. This time, the sausage was a sort of bologna-esque product. Norton had bought a large consignment from the nearby GoodPrice--those Malgraveans did sell quirky product!--of cold cuts made from a type of sausage called “Doctor’s Kolbasa.” Of course, it wasn’t the usual variant of this time honored Russian recipe, made from beef and pork and resembling a much leaner American Bologna. The GoodPrice advertised it as “The House Call Special.” A purported “high energy” snack for “late nights and long workdays,” it had pieces of what appeared to be red pepper flake, with the promise of “Added Vitamins and Spices, So You Don’t Have to Fake the Funk--Doctor’s Orders!” Gimmicky, yes, but it was food and everyone wanted something different than muffins, burritos, or General Masaki’s Chicken. It was served in a deli platter, with crackers and small blocks of cheese. Like the other refreshments, it sat off to the side, ready to be consumed as the meeting commenced.

Conspicuous by her absence was Supreme Commander Wachowski, who was off handling some secret government project--Project Erebus. However, in her stead was Wachowski’s personal adjutant, Lieutenant Joanne Sherman. Sherman was frankly, very anonymous--moderate height, average build, and she didn’t have any real traits that stood out. In fact, the only reason she was here and not working silently as one of the many staffers which kept the whole Dornalian enterprise running was because she was good at being so ordinary. As for the others, well, they were present.

Lieutenant Sherman was the first to speak. Coughing, the Lieutenant--somewhat hesitantly, as she was unused to giving a presentation to a collection of VIPS--said to all and sundry in the room, “As you all know, I am here in Supreme Commander Wachowski’s stead. The Supreme Commander wanted confirmation of the deployment of Task Force 100 to Jurai, consisting of a mixed collection of Dornalian ships and a portion of the Greater Prussian space and ground assets recently placed under President Haggar’s command. Their purpose would be to work alongside Battlegroup Coredia, which is the Allanean/Greater Prussian force being sent to Jurai as we speak. They can arrive there at the same time as Battlegroup Coredia arrives, given the route noted in the report.”

Norton then asked, politely, “I don’t have a problem with that, Lieutenant, although what happens to the other portion?”

Haggar then interjected at that point, declaring as he nibbled on a sandwich made from toast points and House Call Kolbasa, his authoritative baritone causing everyone to pay attention, “We have an ongoing crisis in Nova Louisiana which needs our attention sooner rather than later. We will deploy the other portion to provide assistance against the Daedra. In particular, Lt. Sherman’s report notes that the commander in the region, General Kachaturian, has planned several offensives to regain momentum against the Daedra in cooperation with local forces and the Order. One of these offensives is in Northern Nova Louisiana, and it has among its objectives the relief of regular forces and local forces on the world of Ft. Aldershot, where the Tentaculan Ja’ang Clan’s holdingworlds have been the subject to Daedra attempts to break the defenders. We will use the Greater Prussian forces to help spearhead the offensive along with Dornalian forces.”

Norton nodded in reply, saying nothing. Haggar then continued with something that made the point clear.

“Tell the Supreme Commander that she has the go-ahead.”

“Thank you, Mr. President.” Lt. Sherman nodded and she continued with, “Also, on that subject, Superior-General Walker of the Order has asked me to ask you about the potential intervention into Dyste. As listed in the report, Dyste is currently undergoing a complicated interdimensional situation; suffice it to say, the malevolent alternate universe Tyroth must be dealt with. Currently, the Order’s strike team and their HVT are on their way to intervene in Dyste, although….”

Sherman coughed and her tone grew nervous, as she was clearly not eager to say what she had to say next.

“....I will say this--there is no other way to do so. Superior-General Walker noted that the HVT recovered in Imperial!Columbia was a high level daemoness. Walker wouldn’t give too many details but she indicated that the leader of the strike team was only able to get this daemoness under control through….some sort of bargain involving herself.”

The others sighed and facepalmed. Norton immediately turned to Nadine and shouted, “You thundercunt!”

Nadine’s response was to glare at Norton with a stern gaze, and a challenging, “Excuse me?”

“You know what you did,” Norton shouted in an accusatory manner. Continuing for the benefit of others in the room, he turned to Lt. Sherman and said, “Lieutenant, I don’t know if your superior officer told you this, but Nadine’s people were the ones who located the intelligence that said the Imperial!Columbians possessed a figure of great magic whose powers could be used to win the war. Evidently, someone on ERIS’s either was too lazy to follow up or deliberately chose to ignore the fact that they were breaking out a Goddamn demon!”

Nadine stood up, and forcefully shoved her chair into the table with all the might her otherwise comparatively small frame could muster. Norton got up in reply, and the two stared each other down as Haggar leapt up and shouted, “ENOUGH!” The two turned to the President as he said sternly, “Sit down. Both of you. NOW.”

The two sat down, not eager to step to a man whose muscular, giant frame and known skills at MMA and wrestling could easily make short work of both of them. Haggar then declared, “I don’t know and I don’t care what happened, but I think going forward that ERIS needs to be more careful about when it comes upon actionable intelligence--”

Nadine then snapped, her affected Transatlantic Accent somehow making her comeback seem even angrier and more petulant, “Our people provided what they knew at the time the operation was first authorized to the Order and had no fucking knowledge or reason to know that the HVT was a demon! The confused interdimen--”

Slamming his fists down with a force that shook the table, Haggar shouted, “SHUT! UP!” Nadine recoiled back, looking more like a scared child than the Director of National Intelligence. Haggar then continued with a simple, stern warning to Nadine.’

“The next time you find actionable intelligence, you better damn well sure to investigate all angles of it. I do not want any more Dornalians forced into compromising situations because no one knew all the facts. Do you understand?”

Nadine, in a defeated yet annoyed tone, nodded her head and said, “Yes, Mr. President.”

“Thank you.” Turning to Nadine and then to Norton, Haggar then ordered, “On that note, send a delegation to Dyste immediately. I need boots on the ground if they're not there already to coordinate operations with the Order and the locals. We need the evil Tyroth stopped, the Dyste we know protected from the interdimensional chaos and for that…thing that the Order found to do as little collateral damage as possible. We will not have any further incidents because we dropped the ball.”

Norton and Nadine looked at one another, as Haggar also ordered, “And for fuck’s sake--I want you two to actually talk. I want to see actual State Department-ERIS cooperation. If that doesn’t happen, a German suplex to both of you is the least of your problems. Got it?”

Nods were made, and Haggar seemed satisfied.

Lt. Sherman then continued, with a nod, a cough, and a simple, “Besides the Dyste and Coredian and Nova Louisianan situations--there’s also the Luxembourgia situation. We’ve tried sending a probe through the old Hyperspace Expressway gate.”

“And?”

Lt. Sherman then said simply, pulling up stellar charts, “The probe found the gate leads to a world within the boundaries of the old Terran Socialist Republic. The world was once known as Hecuba VII, and it seems to have been enveloped in a Warp Storm. However, when the probe team attempted to scan the first world they found...they were greeted with images of the same kind seen in Luxembourgia County. Blasphemies, violence, obscene material, but also with incredibly high PKE signatures.” She then casually noted, “Only one of the probe operators survived.”

The last part raised the eyebrows of everyone in the room, and Nadine asked, “H-how was that possible?”

Lt. Sherman said with a sigh, “MPs found most of the probe operators dead except for one man, who was crawling around on all fours cackling incoherently with blood on his hands, mouth and uniform.” She then added, her voice seeming to imply more than what she was saying, said simply, “There were signs of a struggle.”

“I do remember reading that, yes,” Norton said. He then asked, leaning forward, “What the fuck happened over there? And what the hell is going on?”

“We’d have to go in and figure out. We’ve tried capturing the pirate members, but their language is incomprehensible, they’re resistant to brain scans and they tend to self-terminate before we can pick them off,” Lt. Sherman said with a shrug. “So I’ve been told.”

Norton then said, “Fuck me. Please tell me there is a ray of sunshine here.”

Haggar did say, “Well, remember, there was that ritual we did with the Allaneans a while back. Reports indicate that some of the items whcih emerged as a result of that have made it back to the Republic, with interesting results.” Pausing, Haggar added, “I believe one of those reports was Lt. Sherman’s.”

“You are correct, Mr. President. Technically, the Order informed me of that, but yes.”

“Let’s hope they work…” was Norton’s only reply.

And then, it happened. One of the Executioners were slapped like a bitch by the Jeishka, leading the Anakin Skywalker to level its turbolasers at it, pouring so much green fire that even its shields strained and broke under the onslaught. And then together, the two warships finished it off in a spray of light.

The remaining two Executioners roared in outrage, building up their firepower as they created massive orange runes around them. They shall all die for this!

But suddenly, a voice entered Mordakai's head.

"Mordakai! The situation has changed greatly! Return to the Citadel for further orders!"

Mordakai snarled. "Master! But the Padawan!"

"Leave him for now! We will collect him in due time! Return!"

Mordakai sneered at the ships. He was sure he would be able to destroy them, but Malakai was a monster never to be crossed. He jerked his head at his remaining minion, and they both fired off massive bolts of seething red energy that would decimate entire continents. Whether they connected or not no longer mattered, for their master calls!

But rest assured, they will return with an army!

They retreated, releasing red mist as they entered Dimension Doors...and were gone.

----

The beams narrowly missed the Ninth Fleet, speeding off into the sea of space and fading away. For now, it seemed to be over.

Captain Holland read the screens. "Any sign of them?"

"Nothing, sir. Think we managed to scare them off?" His sensor operator replied, squinting as he scanned the screens for any sign of the enemy.

"Considering what they were about to do, I doubt it. Right. Coordinate with the Yamato and the Dornalians and we'll see how best to get the ship back to the Exodus Fleet. Keep an eye out for trouble. If they return, they'll return in force."

"Aye, sir."

"Looks like it's over, for now. Let's go meet this captain."

----

Little Mark Amaral sighed in relief as the enemy stopped fighting and headed back to wherever they came from. He looked to Captain Kurosawa, who nodded, then got up from his seat to help out whenever he could.

There are over ten thousand people scattered across this ship, all refugees from what was left of the Coredian civilization that was destroyed, and the ship's supplies were dwindling. Perhaps it was luck...or the Force...that enabled them to get the help they needed.

But there was still just one problem. Where, or more properly, when the hell are they now?

That question was arguably the same one being asked by the Dornalians at the current moment. They had defeated a monstrous enemy, and now there were disparate Coredian elements for them to coordinate with. The Gracies involved noted that given their data feed updates and scans, the Coredians looked to be from multiple time periods...something to give everyone a bit of pause.

To that, the Gracies looked at each other, and then to their respective captains. Then, they issued a joint communique to the Coredians.

Code: Select all

From: Gracie-Jeishka, Gracie-Heinlein
To:  All Coredian Ships
Subject: WTF?
Encryption Level: SECRET//NAVMAR//ORCON

Hey, all.  As you all know, we’re the Dornalians.  I see that the one of you was trying to contact us.  We figured we’d send a transmission out to everyone Coredian here to ask simply for a general SITREP, and to see if everyone’s doing okay.  We certainly are.  We know that things got a little crazy back there and from what we on the Dornie side can tell you, things are crazy in other parts as well.

[Allanea]

To: Zepplin Manufacturer Industries
Subject: Amras

Dear friends!

As you may know, the Free Kingdom is currently engaged in multiple, large-scale, military actions as part of the global fractal cataclysm known as ‘The FusterCluck’, ‘The Clusterfuck’, ‘The Ethereal Shift’, etc. During the Second Battle of Amras, the planet Amras had been dislocated from its orbit, at vast costs and incredible casualties. While we are undertaking a vast effort currently to relocate the population, it would be preferable if the planet’s orbit were readjusted.

Happily, Allanean Defense Exports had made a vast deal recently selling a truly vast amount of its intellectual property for payments in genuine, non-fabricated grade, gold, and as a result the Free Kingdom has received an influx of valuable tax income. We are willing now to purchase certain services from Zepplin Manufacturers incorporated. Primarily, we are willing to pay 10 trillion Universal Standard Dollars for a slight readjustment of the orbit of Amras, and an additional sum of 20 trillion for environmental recovery efforts, repairs to the system infrastructure, etc, hopefully to make Amras habitable again, and especially with an eye to the radiation damage, possible thaumaturgic/warp pollution, and clearing of the orbit of enemy ship wreckage..

Given the economic value of a planet and its system we feel it good and proper to ask you for these services. Payment will be in stages, with an advance of five trillion payable immediately, a further sum of 10 trillion upon completion of the system’s reorbiting, and the rest of the money upon the completion of the recovery and repairs to planetary infrastructure (from atmospheric pollution to things such as power plants, roads, spaceports etc.)

Moreover, in our position as the leader-state of the Greater Prussian Empire, we are wishing to discuss with you an additional extended arms deal for various arms for the Greater Prussian arsenals. This will be paid for from other sources.

[Dyste]

The Armageddon, Shores of Undellah, Another Dyste

---

Tyroth was rather amused; they sent a crazy person to try and fight him, it seemed. Probably from some country he razed to the ground, perhaps on a Tuesday. “Well, I suppose if you want some grand finale before you perish, I can provide-” he blocked the sake bottle with his weapon, “Come now, really… is this the best you can do…” evidently it wasn’t, though, as Masamune fired a shockwave towards him, one that actually knocked him back. Not bad from a crazy person, certainly better than anything Foley’s people have done to him. He summoned his shadow powers, covering the arena.

“Well, now, I suppose then I should let you have the death you clearly crave. Forgive me for being so dismissive earlier, it is just that I rarely find anyone who gives me even the remote sense of a challenge anymore. It is a shame that we could not have met on different terms, you would’ve made a good soldier for my army. Alas, now it is time to die.” He blasted a wave of dark energy at the samurai; certainly not enough to kill him, but enough to get a better sense of his capabilities…

---

Kel was a bit more cautious than the king was with the Samurai, not allowing his guard to go down. But he then saw a fatal error in Kenshin’s strategy: instead of going straight for him, the samurai wasted the surprise of his attack in taking down his troops. This gave him the time to cause his own body to heat up, making the air nearby him burst into flames. Even as Kenshin attacked him from behind, the flames still seared nearby, not leaving the samurai unscathed from all this. “It appears you are swift on your feet,” the commander said, “But it means little when you cannot even get near me without getting hurt yourself.” That said, the attack did leave a scar across his back; oh well, another for the list. “So, tell me. Do you have any other tricks up your sleeves? By all means, do not be afraid to try it on my troops, I have more where they came from.”

---

The High Priestess of Tiamat was glad to see reinforcements from this ‘Olwe’ place, whatever it was. Her summoning and storms were doing a number to the fleet, but there were so many of them it was causing a lot of her abilities to keep them at the advantage. She figured this was the time for her finest summon… “Avatar of Tiamat, help your chosen warrior repel these intruders!”

A massive five-headed dragon appeared in the sky, dwarfing the planes and Draconids. With one head it shot searing flames, another bolts of lightning, the third icy gusts, the fourth acidic fumes, the final waves of darkness. While not quite as powerful as the Queen of Dragons would be in the flesh, this was the personification of her wrath and power come to reality. The Priestess was not sure how long she could keep it in this land, but she wouldn’t need long if things go to plan…


Another Castle Dyste

---

Tyroth was pleased that they were willing to help, but a little worried about their suspicion over his gear, “Well, I freely admit to not being a soldier like yourselves, but I do know a fair amount about equipment and such. You would agree that you need the right weapon for the right job, correct? Well, we do not know how effective your gear would be. Keeping that in mind, let me ask you; just how much ammunition do you even have on hand? With no way to resupply, certainly you would run out at some point, yes? And while I could in theory make more if I was able to study it, I suppose it would take some time, not to mention that means you would have to leave your weapons behind anyways to give me the opportunity to do so. Besides, it is not like I only have weapons and armor to provide,” he took out a tray of items, including bottles of green, orange and red liquid, small boxes with a picture of a monster being trapped plastered on them, and what appeared to be casings for types of bombs. “Certainly you will not turn down my offer, yes? People would pay a good price for what I am offering you for free.”

“And for the record, your diplomatic offer does intrigue me. We could always more allies in the world, more people to benefit from our inventions, after all.” Some kobolds arrived with what appeared to be suits of armor and weapons, but unlike any they had seen before. They appeared to be made of some monster hide, being made more of scales than metal. There were a few weapons made of a similar material, with a massive sword, a pair of smaller swords, a lance, a hammer, a crossbow, and what appeared to be some sort of gigantic musical horn. “Please forgive the odd appearance of these, but during our testing we have found these quite effective.”

[Allanea]

They came to this world to hunt. They had come to this world before, and now, when the Box had been opened, they came here again. They had come here once a century, when the moons and stars were right. They were accustomed to being feared. For in the years before, the locals had shuttered the windows, barred the gates, prepared defenses – and each time, the defenses had been useless.

So did they come today. They came off-schedule, for the Box had opened, and the defenses of Men were weak. This midnight, the soul-eaters would come. They would slay the locals for joy, and others they would take as slaves. They had done this before, on dozens of worlds.

They had been known across dozens worlds, feared everywhere. Even where Men did not believe in them, and thought them tales told by drunken old men who wish to seem wise and foolish mothers who want to scare their children into obedience – still the tales were frightening. They were the soul-eaters, the hunters, the Devils-that-Stalk-men.

Over the snow, they sped, the starlight lighting their path – black-clad figures, the gravbikes carrying them over the snow like arrows. Their target was so close – a small town. Over the generations they had spent, the place had altered – now, the houses seemed to have bright-red slanted roofs, and some were round, spherical. The lights were on everywhere, and the lights not barred.

“Have they forgotten us?” – Kyrarath laughed, as he shook his weapon – an elaborate, terrifying device, perhaps rifle, perhaps glaive. “Do they not know to fear us? Behold! What easy prey it is!”

They laughed and whooped, as they sped towards the town. Kyrarath laughed, his voice harsh, cruel, as he saw his host behind him spread out, prepared to charge. Some of his warriors were half-naked, the cold winter wind lashing against their bare skin, and they found the pain even more exhilarating.

Until, that is, they started dying.

There was a flash – somewhere in the branches of a tree, a tall pine growing on the outskirts of the town – and one of the warriors fell off his gravbike without even a scream.

“What…” – Kyrarath started, but there was not even a time to utter an oath. A beam weapon, a rapid-fire type, began flashing – not in front of Kyrarath, not in the town, but on their left side. The weapon was overpowered for its task, designed no doubt to take down vehicles, or warriors in powered armor. Kyrarath swore awfully, as he saw a bright, red energy bolt from the weapon hit one of his warriors in the torso, tearing his body apart as his very blood boiled and turn to steam in his body.

Suddenly, the world exploded. Over the town, an alarm rose, its tone rising and lowering – and, several of those glowing, defenseless windows exploded in gunfire of every type. Chemenergics, boltguns, gauss rifles, lasguns, plasma guns – and Kyrarath had not even had time to issue an order, and his warriors were still borne, by the inertia of their charge, towards the town. He decided it was good. There was no real choice.

“FOR-WAAAARD!” – he screamed.

In a second, they would be on those humans. How would they fight if they were among the Mon-Keigh, holdiong their women hostage, hiding behind their children, fighting them as fear itself fights, from within their very homes?

Pop.

A hissing, whistling noise sped past Kyrarath’s ear. An anti-tank rocket, fired, improbably, from some local’s bedroom, sailed directly into the midsection of gravbike.

Then the warriors were inside the town.

Now they could use their every power. Some vanished instantly – moving through the shadows, appearing directly in the homes of their victims. Others fired their weapons – firing slender crystal splinters through the walls of the houses. Where they found their mark they could kill a man instantly, or at least sheer off a limb.

They were horror itself.

But in this town, they found a different horror.

Arzoval was the first to find it, for his powers carried him from shadow to shadow, into one of the strange homes. He emerged deep within what he surmised was a closet – and burst out. He saw the family that lived here – a man and a woman, facing away from him. They were not warriors – both somewhat plump, both in soft-looking, firing weapons into the street. As though weapons could avail against Arzoval! As though –

Pain broke out in Arzoval’s body, and he smelled the familiar, millennia-old smell of a chemenergic being fired. Flung to the floor, he dropped his weapon – and in his dying moments he saw her - a red-haired, spectacled Mon-Keigh child, with a drum-fed, wooden stock chemenergic. Holding it at her hip, she aimed it at Arzoval, and fired a long, long burst.

It might be some comfort to Arzoval that she cried a lot later.

There, in the streets, the Devils that Stalked Men became prey themselves. By the time they reached the center of the town, their band of five hundred was now less than four hundred in number. They had killed in turn, to be sure – and in some places, the town already burned where their grenades had found their mark. But it was not going to be the hunt that they had wanted.

“Kill them! Kill them all!” – Kyrarath shouted in rage as his gang burst into the village square. In front of them, a tall building stood – three stories tall. “Take their bodies and souls! Drink their blood!”

And then there was a voice, a calm voice, clanking like the chain, lashing like a whip.

“My name is Thaddeus Tomkin. I am the mayor of this town. Surrender immediately.”

“You…”- Kyrarath gasped.

Thadeus Tomkin did not expect surrender. Standing in his office, the Mayor of Houndwell raised his hands and cast a single spell. A glowing, raging ball of flame, flashed into existence. There were screams, and the smell of burning flesh. And Kyrarath’s warriors charged City Hall. They screamed forward, wielding their weapons – their mighty glaives, their rifles, their whips – as they rushed into the lobby.

The lobby clerk fired a shotgun into the first of the warriors, pumped the action, and died as she was about to fire a second shot, an electro-whip severing her head at the neck.

From the outside, the townsfolk began to fire their weapons at those of the black-clad warriors who, if momentarily, turned their attention away from them. It was pandemonium – some faced City Hall, others tried to fight back against the locals, and the blood on the snow was black in the starlight, both of the invaders and of the townsfolk alike. Watching the slaughter, Mayor Tomkin fired his revolver into the pale, elongated face that appeared in his window. “Fuck you, cockmongler,” – he said in the language of his people, and then fired the revolver at another of the black-clad figures.

Soon, he knew, they would bne at his door.

And then there was a shout. A familiar shout.

”Hurrah! Hurraah!”

The flashes of dozens of lasbolt impacted the crowd at once. Using the confusion, the Mayor dropped the revolver and raised his hands in another spell, and once again fire and steam rose around a group ofg the warriors.

Suddenly there were dozens of figures – almost children, adolescents, in long trench-coats. They rused out to the city square and dropped on the snow – some falling to the ground, prone, their legs extended like on a shooting range as they lay, others kneeling. A wall of fire, lasweapons and chemenergic, pinned the warriors to the ground. Entering the city square from the North came a pair of police cruisers, their lights flashing in red and blue. As the Soul-Stealers screamed under the gunfire, they realized they were now pinned, by their own foolhardiness.

Kyrarath was making his way to the second floor. He beheaded a secretary with casual ease as one of his servants approached him.”Lakuvall is dead,” – her voice said, rasping. “Khanneque is also dead.”

Kyrarath stared. “How can they be dead? How is this possible?”

As if in answer, gunshots rang in the hallway. “How many are we?” – he asked, grabbing his injured shoulder. The pain would have been pleasurable to him, but in this moment it was tinged with terror.

“We are under three hundred, Lord.”

“How.”

Outside, another fireball roared.

“We are leaving now.” – he said, simply, turning to leave.

The warriors mounted their gravbikes again. Even as they did, explosions and fire continued to strike at them, reducing their numbers. Before his men were even all mounted, Kyrarath sped towards the beige-clad line. In a second, he knew, he would be upon them, over them. He would be –

In his office, Mayor Tomkin pronounced the last spell.

A wall of fire – literally, a wall, composed of roaring flames – rose suddenly, in front of Kyrarath and his warriors. He yanked on the controls, but realized, in a fraction of a second, that he could not maneuver out of the way. He would be carried into the fire.

Kyrarath fell sideways, out of the gravbike saddle and into the snow. He let himself fall to the ground, and heard the snapping of his own bones as he fell. In front of him, several dozen who were not so lucky were carried into the flames. He heard their screams.

Then, suddenly, he felt the cold barrel of a weapon jammed into his ear.

”You have the right to remain silent. Everything you say can, and will be used against you in a court of law…“

Kyrarath did not know what these words meant, but he understood he was being taken prisoner.

* * *

I do not know yet why the Mon-Keigh have spared my life. As the transport carries me through the star, I begin to understand that it is for a purpose. The creature named Tom-Kin had handed me to their warriors, and these, are carrying me in their craft. I do not know where, but as they laugh I begin to understand there is a reason that they do not fear us. I do not understand that reason yet, and the more I am here, in this cold starship cabin, its walls smooth and grey, the more I begin to fear the knowledge.

Prison diary of Kyrarath, Cabal of the Eternal Scar, Entry 45.