The Prophets of Dairmass

Unedited - untouched version of story as it was first written in 1999.

Prophets of Dairmass

Chapter 1: Intruders

“ Like Guardians from another time the stars burn brilliantly watching over us, their time was then and now in our present they reach us. There burning image a speck in our night sky reminding us of all that is brilliant and that some day, this day would have been a memory.”
Kym Robinson

Can prophets exist? Is time circular, is it linear or are their endless possibilities? Is this the realm of science or theologians, who can answer these questions? We can ask with profound and genuine interest, yet are we patient enough to await the answer. In our quest for perfection and evolution do we lose some of our simpler past, do we lose the ability to see as is instead of analysing what it could be or should be? With the assistance of technology do we enslave our selves in ritual and habit, have we doomed ourselves from the very beginning. Will our quest become our doom? Again we must be patient, and then some day those questions may be answered, in true enlightenment or content. With fate’s eternal breeze we go on, reminded of the past and forewarned by seers of long gone times. Will the prophets smile when we listen and are they truth or myth? Or maybe our truths are simply just myths. Time will tell, even if it does not exist, all we can do is question and listen. Listen to our past because what was done then will be surely done again only next time the tools would be better and so may the impact.
In our dying gaze as we drink from knowledge and experience for one last time we must finally ask did we ask the right questions and then maybe we will get an answer.

Franmore Fields, Frektar, 11-7p-3200UD

The third world from the large yellow sun orbited with grace, following the path that it had taken for centuries. On the surface of this green world creatures of various types and builds roam in primitive packs. Their weapons crude and medieval served them well. For centuries upon centuries these intelligent races have grown together and died together, some uniting others following their own destiny. With their older ways magic and superstition spread as warriors of virtue fought soldiers of evil, the armies of growing civilisations shaped the way this world would be. Now after years of paranoia and bloodshed, small bands and larger armies sought their own fortunes to serve their wealth. Swearing neither oath, nor allegiance these cutthroats and mercenaries alike sent panic and fear through the innocent and defenceless numbers of the world. Soon though things would change, but in what shape and in what form.

The layered haze of the fog made it difficult for the most persistent of eyes to see, from within the core of this low lying cloud several riders sat upon their mounts, creeping with the fog across the wet lush field. Unable to see a mere five metres before them the small party, rode cautiously their senses alert and prepared for any danger. At the front of the small group rode a tall Frelithian his scaly skin a green grey hid him well amidst the dense fog. His body rose and fell with the every step of his giant mount, a broad and menacing looking Tragmoth, its sinewy body covered in a thick fur kept it going in even the most harshest of environments. Its large rider rubbed the top of the beast’s mane it responded by raising its heavy head. The large Frelithian rider wearing an assortment of armour. Beneath the armours heavy darkened steel vest he wore a shirt of chain mail. Its silvery scales reflected in the limited light of the foggy haze. Across his front he wore a brown strap, from the hide of some long extinct beast. To the side of the large saddle hung the powerful Frelithian’s weapon, a large battle-axe weighing 20 kg and standing at 1 and a half metre. The axe looked small in contrast to the muscular rider and his loyal mount.
Behind the Frelithian, rode several other menacing characters each riding a powerfully built Tragmoth, their giant beasts of burden hanging their heads low as they trudged along with their riders and munitions strapped to their strong backs.
The other riders were made up of Telterenas and humans, the Telterenas with a similar build to their human companions, were made distinctively different by their long flat face. Their mouth stretching across, nearly reaching their small ears hid a couple of rows of sharp and uneven teeth. The human and Telterenas riders were dressed in armour similar to that of their larger leader the Frelithian.
The Frelithian and his mount approached a small stream, which flowed fast; fresh with the recent rains that had fallen the night before. His nostrils flared as a fleshy scent drifted by, he raised a thick fisted hand. Behind him the other riders stopped each drawing upon their weapons. One of the humans at the very rear of the party turned his mount around to face his rear, his cross bow loaded and cocked ready. As he turned a sharp pain seared into his chest. He tried screaming but his voice would not work. He defiantly raised his cross bow aiming into the fog, which now hung thicker. He pulled back on the trigger, his steel bolt swished into the fog, as he saw it disappear into the white haze he fell from his saddle his body lifeless and limp.
The second nearest rider to the rear was only a few metres away when he heard a light thud; he turned his Tragmoth and approached his friend’s position. Whispering into the thick fog He heard only the snarl of the other Tragmoth as it impatiently
Stood without a rider. The investigating Telterenas held his short sword high ready to use it if he had to. Again he whispered, calling to his friend.
“ Treno, are you there?”
Only silence and the sounds from the Tragmoth answered him. Uncertain he turned to raise the attention of the others when several sharp pains shocked his system. He clutched onto his saddle as he felt his blood flow from fresh wounds across his torso. Again he felt another silent pain, this time it tore through his chest armour with a slicing heat and burnt a savage hole into his breast. He released his tight grip, his sword fell and he lay dead in his saddle.
To the front of the pack, the Frelithian turned to face the rear of the group. Only seeing a haze and the brief outline of one of his fellow riders, the Frelithian quietly asked his nearest companion.
“ Stay on guard, devils are among us this day”
The nearest rider responded by turning to send the message.
The Frelithian now with his giant axe in one hand dismounted his beast, standing at two metres he approached the stream, looking down to it, he went to one knee running his hand through the icy cold water. Cupping his hand he brought it to his mouth, sipping the cold water lightly refreshing his mouth which had long grown dry during their journey. He lowered his hand again when he heard from behind him a muffled cry. He stood swiftly, holding his heavy axe as though it were a walking stick. His powerful frame stormed through the haze, he neared the closest rider. The Telterenas with sword in hand stood by his Tragmoth watching the fog waiting for the devil’s which his leader had spoke of. The Frelithian passed his much smaller companion, who decided to follow the giant leader. The two now approached the next rider a human by the name of Haran.
“ Haran.” The Frelithian whispered.
“ Yes lord” was the tense reply, as the human crouched by the thick legs of his Tragmoth his crossbow ready.
The three approached the next position, as the Frelithian leader approached the Tragmoth, he heard a light cry of pain. Turning with his axe ready he saw several shabby silhouettes in the fog. He lowered his profile his axe ready when his human companion saw one of the figures, instantly shooting a bolt from his cross bow into the figure. The figure fell wriggling on the wet grassy ground, trying to remove the bolt from his abdomen; the human reloaded the crossbow, firing another bolt at the struggling figure. This time the bolt struck the figure's head, a sharp crack followed by the stillness of the figure told the human named Haran killed a ‘devil’. The Telterenas with the sword approached the still body, behind him the giant Frelithian stood ready his axe firmly raised, as his eyes searched the fog. The Telterenas prodded the body lightly with his sword, crouching down he looked to the bodies face. A hideous head of sharp fangs and lifeless eyes turned the Telterenas’ stomach, as he looked further at the dead enemy. He noticed that the head was topped by a firm fitting armour shell made of some sort of lightweight material, covering the chest area of this strangely dressed ‘devil’ was a thick cloth which did not give when the Telterenas forced his sword into it. Strange he thought, he continued to search the body, the clothing of this ‘ thing ‘ was like that of the grass, green with brown and other earthy tones it was of some strange pattern.
Behind the curious Telterenas stood the huge Frelithian.
“ What is it Grambash?” He asked the smaller Telterenas who was crouched over the body of their fallen foe.
“ A devil, lord Kregar “ He responded.
Now standing the Telterenas called Grambash looked to his giant leader lord Kregar.
“ The devil had this “ He handed Kregar a black cylinder object with strange handles.
Kregar looked at the item with intrigue; it was not a striking tool. Perhaps it was a crossbow of some sort. Tucking the weapon into his belt he turned to the human Haran.
“ Keep your eyes alert for more of these devil’s “
Haran nodded.
Kregar looked over to Haran, ”The crystal ?”
Haran looked down at the muddy trail, “It has gone with the Devil’s my Lord”

As the fog settled, the surviving three searched the rest of their party. Each of the others was dead. Fine punctures where seared into their bodies. Kregar concluded that the devils had used a sort of magic. With ten of their dead piled up, and the corpse of the ‘ devil ‘ Kregar set a torch to the bodies burning the dead unceremoniously. Uncertain of what perpetrated the attack. Kregar and his two companions rode of with the remaining tragmoths and supplies tied to their own beasts. The three headed for a thick forrest covering the rolling hills. A place where they would be safe from the ‘devils’.

Araman Farm, Frektar, 11-7-3200UD

About four kilometres away the sound of a light thumping and cracking echoed over the fields and through the mild rolling hills. A young Dwenth stood over a pile of wood, sweat beading on his brow as he raised the axe and brought it across another piece of wood. Cutting it in two, he rested the axe against a stump, when he heard the distinctive sounds of voices. He looked across his family’s fields his eye searching for a source. The fog, not as thick as before still hung in the lower parts of the farm, making it difficult for the young Dwenth boy to see at any great distance. He was about to give up his brief search when he heard the voices again, this time a lot louder and more definite, he could not make out what they were saying, as he was unfamiliar with the language. Without any fear he optimistically approached to where the voices were coming from. He neared a corner of one of the farms small cobblestone huts built to hold and kept the feed for the live stock dry.
“ Hello “ the Dwenth boy announced as he looked for who could be there.
“ ssshh” he heard as he reached the rear of the hut.
The young boy of ten, looked around the corner his eyes widening with his discovery.
Five strangely dressed men were crouched low with these obscure black sticks pointing at him. He saw that their faces were masked what he could see of their face was frightening. Beneath the olive green mask were several sharp fangs protruding from what appeared to be the mouth of these people.
“ Hello” The boy said this time with definite fear in his voice.
One of the strangely dressed beings stood and approached the boy, a black gloved finger covering his mouth. The boy understood, immediately freezing and remaining silent. From the other side of the hut a female’s voice caught the boy’s attention. His mother.
“ Deran, Deran where are you?” she yelled sounding a little worried.


Section Commander Drel Fanax heard the sounds of a femine voice calling out in a strange language, he knew that it was probably the boy’s mother. Lowering his shortened carbine, he gestured for the boy to leave, and he reminded the boy to keep quite by bringing his finger back to his mouth. Drel watched as the young boy ran to his mother, he turned back slightly and continued to walk with her. Looking to one of his poised men Drel signalled him to get closer. The man carrying a metallic box covered in a canvas materiel approached Drel, removing the box Drel held onto a small mouthpiece attached by cord to the main body of the box. He pressed a button and spoke into it.
“ Orbit 8, this is Land Fox 2, ready for evac, say again, ready for evac.”
The rest of the soldiers dressed in their camouflaged fatigues blending them into the lush environment listened to their commander as he contacted their ship in orbit.
Several minutes past, when Drel finally heard the high pitched hum of their transport. Pulling the cord on a small flare he guided the drab green square shaped
Transport craft down its wing spaning out in both directions to a total of 10 metres.
Immediately as the craft pounced onto the soft ground Drel’s section boarded it through its side hatch, one covering the other. By the entrance of the transport sat poised ready a gunner sitting behind a heavy suppressive fire weapon, his weapon scanning as the section boarded. Lifting off immediately the transport propelled itself into the planets outer atmosphere and into orbit, where a much larger vessel awaited its return. Drel and his men had been successful, minus the loss of one.
Meanwhile on the planets surface the young boy, from within the confines of the farms small house watched in disbelief as the great bird screeched its way into the heavens. Those strange men must have been angels or devils he thought as his mother called him for supper.

Weinman Research Institute, Alemar, Orbit of Frektar, 11-7p-3200UD

Thousands of kilometres above the surface of Frektar, a small moon orbited as it has done for centuries. The cultures of the world Frektar have long looked at this orbiting orb as a spiritual entity, seeing it as some form of deity on their cold nights chasing their sun away only to disappear itself during the day. On the surface of this small moon, several structures stood high, not constructed from the Frektarians nor an indigenous race to this moon, but by visitors from another system.
The Solitudian Empire was these ‘ guests ‘, discovering the system years before, their militant and capitalist government exploited the find. Immediately setting up a research facility to study the system and develop weapon systems.
The Solitudians were an Empire of various races and species, their prime make up being that of humans and Munns. The later a warrior race long enslaved by the Solitudian ideals of wealth, private gain and imperialistic aristocracy. The Munns standing at an average height of 1 and a half metres deceive with their wise and friendly appearance, when at heart the yearn for battle and conflict. It is not that the Empire is evil, it is that the Empire prides itself on its opportunism. The Emperor born into the seat rules absolutely with several strong and key advisers telling him what his best option would be.
The Imperial Research and Development Bureau were charged with establishing a station on the world’s moon. Immediately work commenced secretly the IRDB with the assistance of the large and powerful Imperial Naval Force constructed a large and fully independent research base. With a length of 800 metres and a thickest width of 30 metres the base houses 60 IRDB personnel and scientists, with facilities to hold up to 400 test subjects. The test subjects coming from the world beneath, from the many intelligent races.
One IRDB member Dren Aralath, a human security officer woke from his bunk to the sounds of screams. Immediately he slid his black boots onto his feet. His light grey pants and jacket were the issued uniform of the IRDB security force. A circular black circle with ‘IRDB’ and a small Imperial ‘ S ‘ for Solitudia signified his allegiance to the bureau. He strapped his utility belt around his waist, his side arm a small and compact Camcorp AP 4 Automatic Pistol. A lightweight military weapon firing 10mm plasma encased projectile.
He exited his small quarters, the sterile lighting of the hallway hid nothing, he brought a small mouthpiece across his face and spoke into it.
“ Control, this is Aralath. Control this is Aralath “
Only the rustling of static responded his call.
He immediately removed his sidearm from his holster; his compact black AP4 firmly nestled in his hand provided him with some comfort. Down the sterile corridor he heard cries of agony. He approached the test subject holding cells; the tone of the cries disturbed him. Several more voices screamed out, he stepped further down the corridor. He past one of the cells its door open, he turned to enter, but a fowl stench spiked his nostrils, he looked into the room. A prisoner, or what was once a prisoner, layed torn to pieces covered in its own filth and blood. Its head crushed rested near one of its severed arms. Dren turned immediately, closing his eyes as he now stood leaning against the wall in the corridor.
A voice softer than the ones prior called out, Dren approached another cell, this time a female prisoner. Her head rested against her shoulder her body limp as it leaned against the wall. Her arms above her were chained; blood welled around the burns caused by the friction of the steel bands. Dren stepped towards her; her moans of anguish were softer now. He looked at her in disgust; her lap was covered in her own vomit and blood.
“ Who killed the other prisoners?” He asked trying to sound calm
“ Uytl Brem, Uytl Brem “ she deliriously replied, her eyes fading in and out of focus.
“ Who?” he asked.
Again she responded
“ Uytl Brem “
He activated a small information conduit on his belt it analysed what she had said.
‘ Uytl Brem ‘. South Frektarian Human for Evil Demon.
Dren stood again trying to reach base control, panic and tension consumed his voice.

Moving down the hallway at a fast walk, Dren had to find others, others like him that is. As he reached the main holding area, tormented cries of pain and anguish reached his ears. The fowl stench of vomit, exposed bowels and ripped flesh made Dren sick. He felt his stomach contort and his head swim as the scenes of dead and dying prisoners shocked him. He passed the main holding area, he was only a few metres from the entrance to the ‘ Authorised Personnel Only “ section. Then from their he would be in the safety of the control centre of the Institute.
He looked into a small transparent steel porthole, he saw the entrance to control, and he did not like what he saw. The sight was horrific, even more than the fowl scenes at the holding cells. The corridor once white and light grey was now blood red and

Yellow, blood and flesh coated the floor and walls, even the ceiling dripped wet from remains of the dead. His grip tightened on his small pistol, he pushed a small security pad, the door opened. The smell was sour and cheesy; one hand covered his nose as he entered. He was careful not to slip on the slick floor, stepping over the occasional chunk of flesh. He noticed amidst the bloody red that there was a thick yellow slime. It hung across the walls; he avoided stepping near it. The slime appeared to be a form of mucus, draping thicker above the door to the control room.
He heard a loud screech, it was not human, and it was unlike anything he had heard before. Behind him at the rear door was a large black and brown spider like creature, its giant frame thrashed against the door. He saw through the small transparent porthole that there was more than one of them. His body felt heavy with adrenaline as he ran the three metres to the control room door. The savage thrashing grew louder, as the heavy reinforced door began to crumple at the mass of the large spider creatures. Dren punched in several digits on the security pad, the control room door opened, he entered. His palm sweaty as he held the pistol even tighter than before.
The control room was dark, only two small green flashing lights provided illumination. Dren immediately secured several heavy items against the door, hoping that the ‘ creatures’ would not get to him. As he searched the large and darkened room his mind roamed. He thought of that pathetic Frektar woman who had said
“ Uytl Brem”
Evil Demon he thought to himself, no it couldn’t be, that some primitive superstition. As he tried to reassure himself, a soft groan came from his left.
“ Who is it?” Nervously asked Dren.
“ Dren...Its me Reson “ replied the voice.
“ Reson are you ok “ asked Dren relieved that he was not alone.
He found his friend beneath a small desk, blood flowing from his brow.

Reson Tealn, Chief Communications officer looked at his friend Dren, as he removed a desk that had fallen onto him during the attack.
“ Your ok “ asked Reson looking at his seemingly healthy friend.
“ Yes, what happened?” asked Dren still watching the barricaded door.
“ I don’t know, I was about to communicate with this unknown vessel when our equipment went dead. Then all I remember was seeing you “ said Reson.
Dren crouched over his friend.
“ All I remember was waking up to some one screaming, and then finding every one dead or dying. And if that wasn’t bad enough, we have these giant alien things about to knock down the door. “ Said Dren now standing.
Dren helped Reson up, both watching the door.
“ Is any one else alive?” asked Dren.
“ I don’t know. “ answered Reson.

Both men searched for weapons. Dren found himself an AW 30 Sub Machine Gun, a lot better than his small pistol. He searched for ammunition.
Reson tried opening the weapons cabinet, where several assault carbines and ammo were.
A loud thumping started at the security door to control. Dren with a couple of magazines of 8mm Explosive rounds for his sub gun readied himself by the door.
Reson desperately searching for a weapon had finally opened the cabinet’s door. He reached in grabbing an AC 7 Assault Carbine its stock folded. He extended the stock and placed a magazine of 8mm rounds into it. Both men were now ready for these Demons.
Dren and Reson watched as the furniture and objects resting against the door shook violently. Methodic banging came from the other side of the door, the structure eventually gave though. The two watched as a large spider like animal stepped two of its legs into the room, a circular head covered in beady eyes scanned the surroundings. Both men horrified squeezed their triggers. Flames erupted from the barrels of both men's weapons as several 8mm explosive projectiles ripped into the large animal’s head and torso. Exploding as they impacted. The spider animal struggled as the bullets tore chunks of its flesh away, stumbling over the furniture and battered door; the large animal fell dead. Another spider animal replaced its fallen partner, stepping over the steaming corpse. Dren fired the rest of his magazine into the animal’s body; it shook violently as the explosive rounds ripped it apart. Reson moved to the animals left, himself firing at the large creature. Both men watched the second one fall, hearing a deafening screech, the watched as the other spiders crawled away, leaving the two dead to their foe.
Dren fired down the corridor at the escaping spider animals, his rounds straying of into all directions tearing debris from the walls as well as from the rear spider.
“ What are they? “ asked Reson in disbelief.
“ Uytl Brem “ replied Dren, his smoking sub gun resting against his hip.
“ Uytl Brem “ he said again this time to himself.


Nabore Forest, Frektar, 11-7p-3200UD

The flames caused shadows to dance across the clammy reptilian face of Lord Kregar, he sat hunched over by the fire watching the flames lick the damp wood. To his side sat the two other survivors of the ambush, the three sat in silence reflecting on what had happened.
Kregar was the first to speak.
“ We have lost the chrystal and some brave friends, but we must continue our journey to the castle.”
The two looked at him.
“ What will King Darmogh do without the chystal?” asked Haran.
Kregar rubbed his chin lightly and looked on.
“ I do not know, but we are in a poor state without that orb “

During the vicious attack on the field, one of the warriors in the small party was charged with protecting a small red glowing chrystal. Kregar cursed himself for letting another guard it. Now the crystal was lost, along with several of his brave and loyal warriors. The crystal a mystical and very spiritual item was to be brought to the Bourounge Castle, where the benevolent king Darmogh was to protect it and ensure that no evil party got hold of it. Now without the crystal, Lord Kregar of the Frelithians had to face his king, and then hope that those demons do not unleash the power that is within the crystal.

Weinman Research Institute, Alemar, Orbit of Frektar, 11-7p-3200UD

Security Officer Amissa Talii crouched on one knee, her cheek resting against the cold metallic stock of her AC 7 Carbine. Its smooth dark grey and black finish blending into the darkened room. Her eyes scanned for movement, perspiration drenched her petit frame. Standing at 150 cm she was dwarfed considerably by her larger male compatriots, all of whom she feared to be dead or dying. Standing now she stalked quietly down the hallway, the lighting dimmed and in some parts non-existent. Her finger lightly caressed the trigger of her weapon. Her firm breasts expanded through the body armour as she breathed heavily in the humid environment.
She whispered lightly into her headpiece hoping that some one could hear her.
“ Talii to control…”
Only the crackle of static answered her, she was alone, she thought to herself.
A sharp screech staggered her as she passed an intersection in the dark hallway. She turned to her right, without a thought or rationale thinking her bodies’ instincts took over firing her carbine into the large black mass that hunched only a few metres from her. A large black and brown spider like creature crawled menacingly towards her. Its round and dark head was attached to a large and streamlined abdomen at its rear, covered in thick tufts of hair and spike like whiskers. The large spider beast fell its legs clumsily sprawling out beneath it, as Amissa leaned against a wall her Carbines barrel smoking and searing hot. She ran, scared of what she had just seen. No she thought this is not right, get a hold of your self. She slowed after running to the end of the main sub terrainian hallway. She had to calm herself she had to focus. For years she had struggled to achieve her best even when competing against the men, especially when competing against the men. She had been given the hard end by all of the males who felt threatened by this short and very attractive brunette. Now she thought, I must survive.
Turning to her rear she scanned for any further movement cautiously walking backwards as she did so. Her hair free stuck to the side of her face as sweat and grime caused it to clag together.
She stepped through a grey door, passing a dead body; blood caked the man’s face and white lab coat. She tried to ignore it as she walked up the stairs; she was approaching the surface. As she punched several key digits into a small panel along a door she heard a crashing sound and what had definitely been weapons fire. She realised that she was not alone, there were people on the surface. With a new wave of energy and relief she walked down the contrastingly well illuminated corridor of the surface level of the institute. She noticed that the cracking and booming of small arms fire had stopped. In its place though was a loud and booming stomping of feet. She stopped and watched in disbelief from down the very far end of the corridor, some 30 metres, several large and extremely fast moving spider creatures were running towards her. She turned into one of the small rooms that lined the corridor. Crouching behind a desk she watched as eight large and aggressive looking spider animals passed by. All the time she watched with her carbine aimed directly at the passing hoard.
Several long and agonising minutes passed, before she finally stood, her legs heavy with fear and fatigue. As she stood her tight light grey dress pants hugged into the cleft of her tight and round buttocks. Exiting the room she walked on with further urgency. Hoping that those that were firing the weapons before were still alive.

In the barricaded confines of the Control room, communications officer Reson Teln was hard at work trying to repair the damaged and shorted out communications and electronics equipment.
“ Its no use, the must of hit us with some form of EM weapon “
Reson commented in mild frustration.
“ So its completely dead?” asked Dren as he piled up more furniture against the rooms thick door.
“ That it is “ replied Reson.
“ There must be other survivors “ reasoned Dren as he sat against a wall.
“ You would think. What did you call those things before?” asked Reson
“ Uytl Brem, its Frektarian for Evil demon “ he said.
“ What ever they are they made short work of our security, some how they managed to by pass our security perimeter in orbit, completely destroy our communications and surveillance equipment, and if that’s not enough completely wipe out our bases complement of men. “ Reson sighed as he leaned into his hands.

“ Control this is Talii…” a voice said over Dren’s headpiece.
“ Amissa” Dren excitedly replied.
“ Dren where are you?” asked the voice.
Reson now standing watched in disbelief.
“ I’m outside of Control, but the door seems to be jammed “ she said as she tried opening the door.
“ Its pretty well barricaded, It’ll take us a bit to get it open. Wait out “ He said as he and Reson began pulling the stacked up furniture and objects down from resting against the door.

After minutes of removing their barricade, the three were united. Amissa relieved to see another living human. Reson rubbed his chin as Dren and Amissa conversed between them selves. “ Dren may I look at your head pieces?” Reson asked as he approached the pair.
“ Sure “ smile Dren as he handed him his small black and grey head set.
“ For some reason the weapon, which destroyed our equipment, failed to do so to your headsets “ Reson said as he examined the small communication device.
“ What happened to the rest of the equipment?” asked Amissa.
“ We assume that what ever those things were that killed everyone else, had something to do with it. Perhaps they used a form of EM weapon or something that would destroy our more complex systems.” Reson said.
“ Our personal information conduits are working, as well as our life monitoring systems, “ said Dren as he handed Reson another small device, this one a miniature personal computer with a small grey screen.
“ Strange “ answered Reson as he compared the silent consoles of the control room to the functioning devices of Dren’s headpiece and information conduit.

While Dren and Amissa gathered all of the available weapons and body armour that they could. Reson busily worked over the Control room’s main communication console. In total, Amissa and Dren had collected four AP 4 Pistols with around two magazines each; three AW 30 sub machine guns with four magazines each and two AC 7 Assault Carbines with five magazines each. The pair had found several armoured vests, which they quickly distributed and wore. Reson however was not as successful, he was stumped as to why the individual systems were unaffected by the alien weapon. As Reson was about to give up, a loud boom shook the building. Immediately following the violent boom, the majority of the consoles in the room flicked on. Those that were smashed during the vicious attack of the spider creatures were the only ones, which remained dead. The three were surprised by the sudden change, as the room went from silence to a hum and buzz as the machines booted themselves up and preformed self-diagnostics.
“ What did you do?” asked Amissa looking at an equally surprised Reson.
“ I don’t know, “ He said as he watched the new information as it flashed over one of the console's monitor.
“ You better take a look at this “ Reson said.
Amissa and Dren both looked at the monitor, several large craft were floating in orbit of the world.
“ What type are they?” asked Amissa.
“ Maybe they are the alien’s, “ said Dren as he tightened his hold on the AW 30 SMG that he had slung across his shoulder.
If the sight of the alien vessels was not bad enough, several diodes on the panel next to the monitor began to flash. Their glowing red meant only one thing. Something was wrong.
“ What does that mean?” asked Dren as Reson’s hands moved swiftly over the console's keyboard.
“ We are losing oxygen and atmospheric containment.” He said as he tried to remedy the worsening situation.
As Reson worked desperately on the consoles, a loud klaxon began ringing, as a small light on the rooms ceiling began flashing an off yellow colour.
“ The institutes main power reservoir has been breached. I think I may have stabilised it for now. But we don’t have much time. Maybe a couple of day’s max. “ Reson explained his face coated in sweat.
“ That leaves us with only one option, get the hell of this rock” replied Dren.
Both Reson and Amissa agreed as the three immediately went to work on a way of getting out of the Institute and to the relative safety of the surface of Frektar.

South Arastan Fields, Frektar, 12-7p-3200UD
The long grass wavered in the strong wind, the blades thick with dew from the past rain. Through the large field, a line appeared, as the grass had been forced down. To the front of this line of disturbed grass two stocky and heavily clad beings. Their faces and skin a clammy blue green. Running along the side of their heads was a long seam, which connected at the very top of their skulls. Their heads were bare without any form of hair. The two were dressed in leathery vests, which covered their chests and legs. A light green cloth covered their muscular arms. As the pair stalked further into the tall grass, they heard a rustle. Both stopped as they raised their long spears.
The shortest of the pair, the leader, was armed with a long spear its head jagged with sharp teeth. The other carried a much shorter and slender spear, which was clearly for throwing. As the two knelt and listened for the sound, they noticed a different a more distinct sound. The other sound was coming from the sky. The pair looked up; the sound was more high pitched now, almost like a screech. The watched as a black spherical object flew through the sky. Behind it a long trail of thick black-grey smoke pursued the strange craft. The two watched as it crashed loudly into a patch of shorter grass some two hundred metres from them. Both men ran to the scene, their weapons held firmly ready for what ever this giant thing was.

Strapped into their chairs Dren and Amissa held onto the chairs as they watched Reson desperately trying to gain control of the doomed Shuttle. The three had escaped the doomed institute on the small shuttle, only several minutes ago. Now all they could do was watch as the Frektar surface approached them at an incredible speed. Reson tried in vain to regain altitude, but the small emergency shuttle was not aerodynamic enough to fly in the traditional sense through an atmospheric environment. Designed to jettison from the Institute into the vacuum of space. The Shuttle now fell to the ground of Frektar like the two thousand-Kilogram clump of synthetic material. Reson leaned back pulling against the force of the shuttles limited control stick.
The shuttle began to burn as the force of its fall caused the engine to flame out; several attachments along the shuttle's fuselage began to fall of leaving a trail of debris behind the shuttle. The three watched as the ground exploded before them. The green grass of Frektar was the last thing that Dren and Amissa remembered seeing. Reson sitting in the control seat managed to survive the initial stages of the impact. The Shuttle drove its way into the soil and grass of the surface. Reson clutched onto a handle as he tried holding himself in place. A lightweight steel bar became lose as the shuttle crashed into the ground. Now flying through the shuttle's interior, the small steel bar drove into Reson, tearing his head cleanly off. Reson died instantly, just as the shuttle finally came to its halt. The inertia forced his head to splatter against the shuttles interior wall as his body fell forwards limp and lifeless.

The two warriors approached the smoking and battered shuttle, their weapons held ready. The short leader, Maritka approached cautiously he began to prod the shuttles exterior with his spear. The taller one walked around to what appeared to be the shuttle's front; mangled and burnt the front section was wedged beneath several metres of dirt. The tall warrior looked into a window at the shuttle’s front. He called to his leader.
“ There are beings inside, I think they are human. “
Maritka looked into the glass porthole, seeing clearly three bodies when headless and two others slumped over themselves. He cleared some dirt from the porthole and taped against the cockpit front lightly. Behind him the tall warrior, Grethuyil, watched.
Maritka and Grethuyil were two warriors from the nearby Chengtorian settlement. Their warrior way of life made them powerful allies to the King. He allowed them to settle on his lands where they could live independently, but they owed him service at time of war. The Chengtorian's always the capable warriors were willing to help their honourable friend the King. Maritka was one of the settlement elders, a wise and very noble man, Maritka had seen several battles, and in all of them he had never seen anything like this. Maritka was taking the young and inexperienced Grethuyil on a hunt; they were in the middle of trapping down a wild Sermean Tiger, a ferocious and cunning predator. Now the pair was before this large metal object which had fallen from the heavens.
“ Perhaps they are the Saviours of Darimass “ said Grethuyil.
“ No they can’t be “ replied Maritka.
Maritka thought to himself, the Saviours of Darimass, could these strangers be those which the ancients prophesised so long ago. The ancient prophets wrote in their holy scrolls that some day many generations from their time. All of Frektar would become threatened, and strange off worlders would come to save them. The Off Worlders were named the Saviours of Dairmass, as Dairmass had been the holy prophet who had contributed the most to the prediction. For three hundred generations the Chengtorians had lived and existed as the proud warriors that they had always been, waiting to combat the threat, which would engulf their world. Waiting for those, which were prophesised to come and help them. Maritka ignored the thought, he was to old and wise to believe petty superstitions, these strangers would not be the Saviours.

Amissa felt a hand probe her, as she began to come around. Her head throbbed with a nasty headache. She looked around; Dren was shaking her as he tried removing his safety harness. Amissa still not all their asked Dren what happened.
“ We crashed “ Dren simply said, his head also aching.
Amissa was about to ask Dren what happened to Reson when she saw his decapitated body. She turned her face to avoid the graphic sight, as she looked away she noticed that outside the shuttles cracked and dirt covered cockpit, two strange creatures stood. The two outside looked weird to Amissa as they looked in at her with as equally as much curiosity. Dren also noticed the two strangers he immediately removed his side arm from its secured holster.
“ Be careful, they could be friendly “ Amissa said as she also removed her pistol.
“ Or they could be like those things at the institute “ Added Dren.
Dren switched a small lever, which released safety clamps for the cockpit. A loud hiss startled the two Chengtorians who immediately stepped back. Amissa noticed this as Dren finally opened the damaged cockpit of the shuttle. As Dren and Amissa exited the downed shuttle the two strangers stepped closer towards them. Dren noticing their spears immediately aimed his AP4 Pistol at the taller ones chest.
Maritka watched as the two weird humans left their strange capsule. One of them, the male, he thought approached him with a small black object pointing at Grethuyil. Maritka lowered his spear as a gesture of peace.
Dren was wary as the short warrior lowered his spear. The taller one though maintained his tense and anxious gaze and pose. Amissa with her pistol to her side also lowered her weapon.
“ Dren, lower the pistol, I think they are friendly “ Amissa reasoned.
“ If he makes one sudden move, Ill fill him full of holes. “ Dren answered as he also lowered his weapon.
Maritka noticed how the two lowered the small hand devices, which he now assumed to be weapons. He stepped forward behind him Grethuyil lowered his spear.
“ I am Maritka of the Chengtorian Warrior Army for King Darmogh of the Bourounge” Maritka said as he tried making contact to the strange humans.
Amissa and Dren looked at one another, the strange dialect sounded so alien, so crude to them. Amissa replied.
“ We mean no harm, our shuttle crashed here. What is your name?”
Maritka looked at his young student and shrugged his sticky shoulders.
To him the human sounded strange.
Amissa looked at Dren.
“ Do you think our translators in the Info Conduits will have this language “
Dren shook his head.
“ I don’t know, our scientists could have studied this race. “
Amissa turned to the inside of the shuttle and removed her webbing.
Within one of the ponchos was her small round Information Conduit, which clipped onto her belt. She activated it hoping that the language of these creatures would be contained within the memory.
Amissa repeated what she had said before to the two natives.
The conduit repeated but this time in a weird dialect.

Maritka looked oddly at Amissa, understanding perfectly what she had said via the small device. He replied to her.
“ My name is Maritka. I am an elder warrior of the Kings Chengtorian Warrior Army. Where are you from?”
The two went on to communicate through the small conduit. After establishing several crucial things, Amissa and Dren were satisfied that they had landed where they did.
Maritka and Grethuyil led the two towards their camp. There they could learn more about each other. Then in the morning Maritka would take the pair to the king.

Saralh Labour Camp, Frektar, 12-7p-3200UD
Almost another world away, workers and labourers, or more to the point slaves, marched under the cruel sun their hands and ankles bound by heavy metal shackles. The slaves marched in long columns, assorted humans and Dwenth’s walked on deliriously their heads hung low as their tired bodies carried them back to their camp. The only difference in appearance between the Dwenth and the humans is that the later has two eyes, whereas the cycloptic Dwenth have just one. Other than that the two are almost identical. To the front of the long column of slaves, a tall and muscular Dwenth male stepped with a crude pride. His tall frame and thick arms dwarfed the other’s in the column. The human next to him a short and sickly man tripped with almost every step. Falling in the choking dust as his shackles dug further into his already swollen flesh. The large Dwenth looked down at the pathetic human. The Dwenth symphasised with the sickly man, reaching down and yanking the man back to his feet. The muscular Dwenth supported the old thin man until he could carry himself. One of the tormentors, astride a large tragmoth had observed the dwenths act of compassion. He rode over to the two, he raised his hand above his head and lashed out with a long thin whip, the whip slashed across the old man’s shoulder, tearing his flesh to the bone. The old man crumbled in pain, the dwenth responded instantly. With a mighty effort he swung his right arm at the tragmoth’s head. His fist clenched as it smashed into the beast’s jaw. The tragmoth stumbled and fell to the dusty road, the rider falling beneath its dazed body. The dwenth reached for the trapped rider’s knife, which hung at his side. With the knife he broke open the shackles which had loosely bound his arms. To the others in the column. He then freed his legs, as he turned to free the older sick human, an arrow tore into the old mans shoulder. The dwenth stood, he saw the shooter, another of the human oppressors astride of a tragmoth approached. The human rider was preparing his bow for another shot. The dwenth charged at the rider, who was only a few metres from him. The startled rider fumbled as the enraged dwenth leaped at him. Grabbing the rider by the throat, the bulky and powerfully built dwenth forced the man of off his animal. Both men fell to the ground, the human rider bearing the force of the impact. The dwenth now mounted across the human’s chest attacked the fallen man with a furry of violent and devastating punches. All the dazed rider could do was cover his face with his weakening hands. In desperation the battered rider turned to his stomach, hoping to avoid the flurry of punches. Remembering back to his days as a free man, days when he was a champion wrestler, the strong dwenth wrap his right arm across the mans exposed and naked throat. From behind he choked the man his right hand cupping his left shoulder as his left hand applied pressure to the back of the humans head. Within seconds the human stopped resisting, his brain without blood or oxygen had made the man pass out. The dwenth maintained the hold for several more seconds, before he stood up. He removed the man’s knife, the column had stopped moving now, and all watched on as this lone dwenth took on their tormentors. Several slaves tried to free themselves but others were to tired and took the break in walking to sit down.
Several tragmoths approached each carried a armed rider, dressed in a dusty black fur vest and coned shape helmets carved from the bones of dead tragmoths and wood. The dwenth held the knife to his front firmly awaiting the oncoming hoard of riders. Seven of the riders split of into different directions, they focused their efforts on controlling the now stirred up crowd of prisoners and slaves. The other four riders approached this lone dwenth.
One of the older riders, a greying human, cocky and full of self-confidence approached the dwenth with his long wooden club. Dismounting from his tragmoth the middle aged human leaped at the lone dwenth, attacking the cycloptic man with a wild and violent swing. The club no longer than a forearm would easily smash bone. The dwenth ducked the blow and immediately followed up, the dwenth shot in at the mans legs, grasping hold with both his hands, the dwenth took the human down with a double leg take down. The grey haired human reeled backwards dropping the club; he felt a sharp pain at the back of his knee as the dwenth took him to the ground. The knife had dug into the grey haired human’s leg during the take down. Releasing the mans legs and the knife from the mans flesh, the dwenth immediately worked his way up onto the mans torso. With the knife he immediately plunged his fist into the mans throat. The cocky human died, as the blade seared through his larynx and windpipe, all the way to his spine.

The dwenth man stood and watched as two of the human held a net as they approached him. He steadily watched as the third held his club aggressively above his head. As the two riders holding the net rushed towards him, the dwenth dropped to the ground, avoiding the heavy net as it grazed his head. Now the third rider approached him ready to attack with the knobby wooden club. The dwenth grabbed the riders arm and yanked him from his tragmoth, at the same time the human rider lashed out with a blow to the dwenths head. The club missed only striking the saddle, which he sat on. The human fell from the back of the tall beast with a mighty thud. The dwenth towered over him, running out of time the dwenth stepped his foot into the human’s face and pulled him self onto the tragmoths back. He turned the beast away from the two approaching riders, still holding a large net. He kicked his swollen heels into the animal’s side, and leant forward as the animal bolted off. The animal kicked up dust over the fallen human as it galloped away from the oppressed column and the tormentors. The dwenth was now free, but for how long he thought.

Space, Outer Frektar, 12-7p-3200UD

At hundreds of metres per second, the small stealth probe approached the world of Frektar. Decreasing its trajectory as it achieved a geo-synchronous orbit around the flourishing world. Not even the sensors of the doomed Solitudian station could have picked up this small but very effective probe. Undetected the probe sent sub space signals back to its source, images and read outs of the planets environment, inhabitants, structures and ‘ intruders ‘ were all recorded and passed on back to the ones which sent this small probe.
A highly focused and detailed camera took thousands of images as the probe, now a satellite orbited the world. Mapping the entire planet, recording it’s every contour and feature, as the small probe's information processor analysed the world and the information, which it received.

Chengtorian Camp, South Arastan, Frektar, 12-7p-3200UD

The sun began to lower on the horizon, as Amissa sat before a small fire chewing on a leg of some cooked fowl. From behind her Dren approached, his arms reached out before him as he struggled carrying a large bundle of wood. He tripped and his heavy load of wood spilled across the ground. Amissa turned at first worried, but then smiling.
“ You should stick to Security aboard a station “ she said amusingly.
Dren obviously frustrated stood up immediately composing himself. Several of the Chengtorians watched him each laughing in high-pitched snickers.
“ Yeah very funny, it won’t be so funny when I blast the shit out you primitive freaks “ replied a frustrated Dren.
Immediately he realised that his translator was still on and that, every Chengtorian within ear hot would of heard and under stood what he had said. A tall and very muscular Chengtorian stepped forward.
“ I think you will not ‘blast’ nothing with your arms torn off” He said smiling showing both Dren and Amissa a long row of uneven and blunt fangs.
Dren intimidated by the size of the Chengtorian reached immediately for his side arm, Amissa stopped him.
“ Dren don’t. We may need the help of these people.”
Dren crouched ready as the Chengtorian dwarfed him, standing almost 10 centimetres above the normally tall Dren. The Chengtorian looked at Amissa, and thought about her and what she had said. His gaze immediately went back to Dren as he clenched his fists tightly.
From behind the tall Chengtorian a very old and shorter Chengtorian spoke.
“ Gremulh stop, let the human be “
Obediently the tall Chengtorian known as Gremulh stepped back, never letting his hostile and ferocious gaze leaving Dren’s eyes.
The old and wise looking Chengtorian approached Dren and Amissa.
“ My name is Semuil Qalpah, I am the lead elder of the Chengtorian settlement here.”
Dren and Amissa respectively nodded to the older man.
Amissa spoke “ We thank you and your people for all that you have done for us. The journey to your King, will it take long?”
Semuil Qalpah replied “ No it is only a days walk, but on tragmoth it will be considerably less. “ changing the subject briskly, Semuil continued “ the reason why I wish to speak with you concerns your people. Unlike the others I do not believe that the pair of you are the chosen ones as in the prophecies of Darimass. I do how ever know that you are from a cruel and evil people.”
Dren looked over to Amissa who revealed nothing in her face as she listened to the old mans revelations.
“ You come from another world, long into the stars and across the blackness of the dark sea of night. Your people have taken thousands of those that live on our world for two hundred full moons. Now you have fallen to our world, and need our help. You possess magic that the Gods can only behold and yet you are as mortal as any one of us. "“ The old man paused as he studied the pair’s faces.
“ You now wish to see the King, who has also been informed that you are the ones spoken of in the prophecy. The reason why I have revealed what I know to you is so that you may tell me what it is that you are really doing here, without deceiving us with the false tongue that your kind posses.” The flames burned with more fury, giving greater meaning to the elder’s words.
Dren responded “ We are travellers and our ship crashed on your world, we do not know the ones that you speak of, or are suggesting that we are.”
The elder smiled “ Again it amuses me that your tongues speak such false truths. If you are not those, which I speak of, then why does your uniform have the emblem that they wear? And if you do not know them, then why is it that you speak the same voice as they do? If you are not from the same world as they, then why is it that you carry the same tools as they do? “
Amissa stopped the old man. “ It is all one coincidence, you see we are a race that mimic those around us…” Before she could finish the old man spoke
“ You are a race of liars and murderers. You posses powers which are used to do evil. You have taken so many innocents, and killed many others. You must understand that I must inform the others of you and what dangers you posses. The king will be most…”
As the elder turned to call over a several warriors, Amissa unholstered her pistol firing it into the elder’s chest. He fell backwards clutching his chest. The other Chengtorians turned to the loud sound and responded. Dren jumped startled by Amissa’s response. The two immediately ran, behind them dozens of Chengtorians followed. Throwing their spears as they run. With a fair head start Amissa and Dren were just out of the spears range. The pair knew though, that the Chengtorian warriors were quickly gaining and would soon be in throwing range. Dren turned swiftly firing a volley from his compact pistol, which was set on automatic. Several rounds hissed past the pursuing warriors. One of them fell as two of the projectiles smashed into him. Amissa cursed herself as she realised that they had left their weapons, other than their pistols, and most of their supplies back at the camp. Following Dren’s lead Amissa fired her pistol at the approaching Chengtorians. Two of the warriors fell. Still there were several of them left which now could throw their spears. Almost on cue the lead Chengtorians threw their spears at a great velocity, each one rained down around Amissa and Dren. One past so close to Amissa, that she had to feel her self to make sure that it had not hit her. Changing magazines, Amissa immediately sprinted off into the direction of a near by thicket of trees. Dren kneeling on the ground fired several shots into the pack of Chengtorian warriors. Three more fell to his deadly bullets. The encased projectiles punching through there flesh, shattering any bones and searing through organs and muscle.
Dren stood and ran he followed Amissa who was now five metres ahead of him. And behind him were 18 furious and savage Chengtorian warriors who were only 20 metres away and still closing. The two made it into the forest. Both turning to fire there pistols at the pack of Chengtorians. Their deadly projectiles struck into four more. Down to there last magazines the pair ran deeper into the forest’s interior. Both heavily breathing, as their body pumped hot blood through them as adrenaline fuelled there intense escape.

The leader of the pursuing Chengtorians raised his fist. Immediately the warriors stooped, there eyes searching the black depths of the forest. They had run almost two kilometres, throwing their spears and carrying their armour and personal weapons. While the alien humans and fired at them with their strange fire arrows. None in the group of 14 surviving warriors had worked up a sweat or were anywhere near being out of breath. The warriors split up into three groups, two of six and one of two. The smaller group was to head back to the settlement and inform the others what had happened, while the larger two groups stalked the two aliens in the large and unforgiving forest of Salimah. If the humans escaped them, and then they would still have to face those that dwell within this forest, thought Samhj the leader of the group of hunting warriors. The humans were already dead he thought, as he smiled.

Chapter 2: Inner Demons

“ Nightmares are the one hellish experience that any person can feel, it is the time that our very own mind torments us, when our fears are in control. Sometimes though our worst fears leave our mind and enter the world of the living, only then you can not simply just wake up.”
Kym Robinson

Federal Action Command Regional Control Centre, Kelso, Federation of Allied Worlds, 13-7p-3200UD
The magnificent structures of the Control Centre, were a superb marriage of technology, aesthetics and the natural serenity of this beautiful world. Built on the outskirts of the world’s largest city, the centre reached out for several kilometres. The lush and perfectly green grass of the world, accompanied by attractive and well-groomed gardens gave this important centre a welcome and distinguishing look and feel. The natives of the world and the Federation personal alike enjoyed the working in and around such a unique establishment.
Several orbital defence batteries of Multi barrelled cannons, Long Range Plasma guns and anti ship and satellite missile launchers were scattered across the centres grounds. As were several towers operated by highly trained officers each watching diligently for security breaches or incidents, which may threaten the local populace or the bases foundation.
Within the interior of the largest of the impressive structures stood a tall and well built human, his uniform a grey- green with the insignia that distinguished him as a Major in the Federal Army Special Operations. An officer in the ranks of one of the most elite formations of the Federation, if not the entire galaxy. As an officer in the Federal Defence and Security Force, Major Lev Neil was fully aware of his responsibilities. He like many others strongly believed in what the Federation stood for. The diversity and total tolerance of the federation meant that men like Lev Neil would serve and defend various species, some which he may of never knew existed.
Major Neil was awaiting his briefing with the commanding officer of this regional centre, Brigadier Jolik Noel, of the FAC, a highly decorated and experienced Galaterrakian.
Galaterrakians were one of the founding peoples of the Federation, along with the humans of Armeria. Set up as body of worlds in order to defend one another and provide support, the Federation grew, and grew as hundreds of worlds joined it, each contributing to those core ideals of peace, tolerance and unity. Such ideals come at a price though, and the federation’s history was not without conflict or war. Each of the member worlds aware of the need to mount a strong force to defend, the various worlds bonded and formed the FDSF which has protected and ensured the Federation’s best interests be kept safe. Now the role of the federation has evolved to the police of the galactic community. As several strong and powerful celestial governments and powers seek gain and expansionism, hundreds of others die and disappear. And so it became the duty of the Federation to protect and save these threatened states.
Now in this region, outside of Federal Controlled Space, another world was at a crisis.
The grey blue skin of the galaterrakian officer, Brigadier Jolik Noel contrasted with his pale yellow feline like eyes. His crisp uniform sharp and elegant formed around his body perfectly; his greying hair combed across his forehead showed him to have neatness about him. He gracefully carried himself with pride as he opened the door to his office by pressing a small digit on a panel. The door slid silently open, to his left a youngish human officer sat patiently, realising the brigadiers presence the younger office stood to attention.
Brigadier Noel smiled. “ Major Neil, I will be with you in a moment, please fell free to make your self-comfortable in my office.”
“ Yes sir” replied Major Neil.
As Brigadier Noel left the room, Lev immediately entered the office, he noted the numerous framed still images, which decorated the room. Images of a younger Jolik and his family, as well as his class from the older mans Academy days. Feeling confident, yet uncomfortable Lev sat down on a chair opposite the Brigadiers impressive desk.
Lev was surprised by the size of the office; it was easily ten by ten metres. The Brigadier entered the room, with a mug of steaming tea.
“ I’m sorry Major, would you like some?”
“ No I’m ok thank you sir.” Replied Lev.
“ Now down to business, I’m sorry that you had to be rushed here on very short notice. You came highly recommended the top of the list, and you were available.” Began Brigadier Noel, the older man sipped from his hot cup.
“ This operation will be off course highly classified, most of your command will be FAC, only one section will come from your lot.”
The Brigadier handed Lev a small digital information pad.
“ This pad will supply you with most of the information concerning the mission.”
Lev looked over the pad, noticing the location of the operation.
“ Frektar, sir?” enquired Lev.
“ Yes its way outside the Federation, by about one hundred light years. As you’ll see in the pad the Solitudians have had their fingers in this part for a few years now. Mainly using the place as a secret research base testing weapons on the native populace, you know the usual Solitudian bit. A few days ago however, one of our long range probes detected several non-Solitudian vessels within the system, the Solitudian base on the orbiting moon, Alemar I think it is, was then attacked. We have just recently sent another probe which has confirmed this information, the second probe also provided significant insight on the world itself.”
Lev looked at the pad, reading detailed information and studying the in depth images of the surface and from the moon, detailing the damage done to the Solitudian base by these unknown forces.
“ What is so important about this system sir. I mean why is it important for us to involve our selves?” Asked Lev.
“ Because we need to investigate who these or what these unidentified’s are. Plus under the Federal Charter it is our obligation to intervene before this thing escalates, as it is likely the Solitudians will respond by sending a large fleet or force to reclaim this system. “ Answered the Brigadier.
“ Major, as this world is inhabited by several relatively primitive cultures we can’t afford to go in with full Tac kit and the whole works. While you will have a full support and a vessel, you will go on the world as though you are indigenous, so your men will be kitted out in weapons similar to those employed by the natives, even though they are highly modified to suit your needs.”
“ When do I leave?” asked Lev.
“ Straight away, the vessel is ready and in orbit as we speak. Good luck, Major and God speed. “ Said the Brigadier as he Lev and him both stood.
“Thank you sir.” Bowed Lev as he smiled and exited the large office.
As he left Brigadier Noel nodded lightly watching the doorway several seconds after Lev had left. “ Good luck.” He said this time as a whisper.

Tambor Plains, Frektar, 13-7p-3200UD

The cycloptic dwenth stumbled across several boulders, which protruded, from the sun scorched earth. The dry grass lazily wavered in the soft wind, as the exhausted dwenth wandered in delirious abandon to a destiny uncertain and beyond his wildest of dreams. Ahead of him he noticed a strange apparition, it was a small tower. He closed his eyes and opened them again, the tower disappeared and in its place was a large and battered temple.
Lazily he wiped his eyes, as he stumbled on in disbelief, his body dehydrated and without rest carried him painfully across these wild and sparse lands.
The temple stood on a slight knoll, its peak curving slightly in an unnatural arch. At the foot of this temple was a door way well what appeared to be such to the fatigued dwenth. His eye scanned the surrounding plains, only the occasional hawk and boulder caught his attention. Satisfied that he was alone, he stepped towards the tower like temple, which easily would reach a height of twenty metres and a width of six.
Relieved as he stood beneath the temples protective shadow he rested, satisfied to sleep a bit for now and then investigate later.
Pushing against the door firmly, he concluded that it was locked, and that after his rest he may have to force it open. Leaning against the temple he closed his eye and fell into a heavy and much needed sleep.

Looking through the openings of the damaged tower was a nervous and somewhat peculiar character. He caressed a short and rusty blade as he observed from the height of the temple, the lone dwenth. The watcher was very curious as to what this stranger was doing at his temple. With a curious gaze the observer stroked his chin in an exaggerated mannerism and hobbled away from the slitted opening in the side of the temple wall. With his short legs the temple owner hurried as fast as he could to a spiralled staircase.
While all the time he firmly held onto the rusted short sword, it provided him a comfort, even if he did not know how to use it. After all he figured all you needed to know was that the sharp end goes into the bad guy. And this reasoning had served him well thus far.
With his short sword the short character reached up to the height of the door and removed a large piece of wood. It clicked loudly; the sound surpassed the little man. He stopped for a full three seconds listening for the dwenth, he heard the snores through the door and continued his cladenstine work.
Opening the door, the small temple owner held his blade high, as the dwenth came into view, he was going to find out what business this dwenth had sleeping against his door.

The dwenth awoke to the most strangest of sensations, in his dream he had been riding a tragmoth when all of a sudden the giant creature began collapsing its hind legs melting away. The dwenth then felt him self fallen backwards, when he found him self awake to this exact sensation, startled he tried to stand, but found the door in which he was resting against had opened. A voice caught him of guard.
“ Who are you, what do you want?” asked the unfamiliar and cranky voice.
The dwenth immediately rose to his feet, when he noticed the strangest looking man. Standing at the height of his kneecaps the small creature with a gigantic bulbous nose and pathetically smallish ears menacingly held a sword up at the gigantic dwenth.
“ My name is Darean Martgaf, I was only...” replied the muscular and bemused dwenth, before he was cut off by the shorter man
“ What are you doing here, this is my temple, Ill run you through, I know how. You’ll see.” The short little man waved the sword at the dwenths chest, the tip of the blade barely reaching his sternum.
“I have just come from a long walk, I was only using your temple as a shelter so that I could rest.” Answered Darean as he passively raised his hands, knowingly he could have easily disarmed and turned the blade against this annoying critter but he was too tired and it would not have been right, thought Darean.
The little kneecap sized man lowered the sword all the while watching the much taller and bigger man.
“ Come, Come. My name is Tagwalh, I am the master of this temple.” Smiled the small man, as he gestured for Darean to follow.
“Where is it that you have come from?” asked Tagwalh.
“Lands within those conquered by the Saralh.” Answered Darean.
“Hmmm, you look tired perhaps we talk more after you are rested. No?” asked Tagwalh as he led Darean up the winding staircase.
The tall dwenth crouching as he made his way up the small staircase.
“ That would be nice.”
As the Darean rested his large head against a cloth field case he let him self fall into a heavy and well-earned sleep. Trusting the little character whom had been so kind to him, he was to tired to suspect him of being cagey or worse.
That would all change in due course though.
As soon as Tagwalh had noticed that the giants breathing reached a rhythm most associated with sleep, he immediately began searching through the Dwenth’s property and person. Tagwalh carefully reached his sharp little paw like hands into one of Darean’s pockets. He discovered a small silver locket, excitedly he opened it. Within the locket was a picture, drawn in colours, of a beautiful dwenth female. Tagwalh was about to remove the picture, and pocket the locket when he realised that Darean was no longer snoring, but was now propped up on one of his massive elbows, watching his every move.
Immediately Tagwalh pleaded “ I was only looking. I meant no harm.”
Darean stood towering over the panicky Tagwalh as he attempted to escape.
Seizing the scurrying midget, Darean lifted him up bringing him to his own height. The short mans legs flailed about as he held him.

Outer Rim, Frektar Sun System, 14-7p-3200UD

The long and menacing shape of the Imperial Solitudian Gripe class Cruiser, the ISS Banisher sliced through the cold vacuum of space at a steady yet fast velocity. Unlike standard Solitudian vessels the Gripe class was designed to work completely on its own, where other vessels in the Imperial Navy would work in large fleet action or support the Large Cruiser was a deep space research and raider type craft. Relying on its own indigenous fighter and bomber support as well as it is powerful weapons and armour. With 8,000 crewmembers and a Fighter wing of 100 and 35 Bombers the Banisher was capable enough to destroy the defences of most planets. Accompanying its 8,000 crew were 1,500 Battle Ready Imperial Marines of the notorious 12th ‘ Diamond Teeth’ Marine Assault Regiment. The Marines were supported by 15 Heavy Assault Vehicles and as well as several smaller armoured and transport vehicles. The Naval Air Arm providing the Marines with transport and Air and Orbital support. This potent military force was neatly and well organised in the 850 metre long by 65 metres at its widest part and 88 metres at its tallest point, and weighing at 155,000 tonnes, the vessel made for one potent force.
Sitting in the raised command chair on the vessels bridge was Commodore Herl Madison, his long jet black mono-brow accented his sinister looking features as his black hair slick and moist looking cupped his head as though it were a second skin. His black tunic and trousers added to his dark and evil nature. Across his left breast he wore several campaign discs, and on his right chest several medals were pinned firmly in place. The bridge’s blue-green glow cast shadows across his sharp face. He stood from his seat stepping down the four steps, to the bridge deck. A younger officer approached him; his black uniform was not nearly as decorated as his own.
“ Sir, we are coming up onto the moon of Alemar. There is still no signal coming from the research centre.” Said the Young Bridge officer.
“ Very well, bring us in close, make sure we enter orbit” Replied Herl his voice icy and composed.
“ Sir, Major Junta says that he has a company of Marines on stand by…” said another Bridge Officer as he held his hands to his ears seated behind a black console.
“ Tell the major to go in, with one company, we will have two other companies on stand by. Sergeant Taska inform Major Vintarg to have several wings ready just in case we run into trouble. And I want every one on a vigil, keep our engines hot, I want us to be out of here before we get a chance to duke it out with whatever it is that has caused this mess.” Said Commodore Madison authoritatively.

Sergeant Keith Nikom watched as his platoon piled into the He held his AWS 14 Assault Rifle/Launcher attachment close to him, as his men in their AAG (Anti-Atmosphere and Gravity) suits positioned themselves into their harnessed seats. Three other platoons were piling rapidly into Landing Craft across the large deck of the Cruiser. Sergeant Nikom followed his men, behind him one of the Landing Craft’s operators shut the large doors, his yellow-green suit contrasting with the dark grey interior of the Landing Craft, as well as the matt green-grey AAG suits of the Marines. A yellow light flashed inside of the craft as the Marines felt the LC take flight, lifting itself and the men of off the flight deck. The harnesses kept the Marines firmly in place as the LC increased its velocity. Across from the aged and veteran Sergeant sat his Lieutenant, Karl Berenas a young graduate of the Naval Infantry Officer Academy back on Jordainer. The Lt. Nervously breathed in the stale air, which circulated within his suit. Their personal weapons locked in place the Marines sat anxiously awaiting the landing, none of them new what their job was. All that they had heard was that the signal from the research centre on the moon had been lost and that they were being sent in to investigate. They did not even know what kind of research went on here, let alone did any of them actually know where they were. The Landing could be as easy as a stroll in a populated park or it could be as intense as a full-blown invasion. None of them new, and so tension thickened the LC interior.
Sgt. Nikon closed his tired eyes; he softly dozed of into a light and well needed sleep. This past few days had been a sheer nightmare to him, prior to the Banisher leaving port the Marine contingent had been refreshed with 650 new well raw recruits. And his platoon excluding himself, his Corporal’s Kisten and Paterson and the Communication Op were all fresh and as green as a wet wintry grass field. Getting the Marines prepared for actual combat had been very difficult, the 8 months of training they had received was solely centred around mass warfare, the conventional stuff which the Solitudian Navy and Army pride themselves on. Yet in reality most of the conflicts the Empire faces concern insurrections and localised low intensity warfare. Imperial Policemen as such and none of the Marines were really trained for such a complicated role. It was the job of the seniors to prepare the men for this task.
Sergeant Nikom snapped back to the world of the awake as he felt the LC touch harshly down onto the rocky surface of the Moon. It was cold and dark outside of the LC, a red light flashed on and the rear ramp folded out, the Sgt rallied his men to exit. The other LC also were in a similar stage, above them hovered two Close Support Craft, CS 950 Hellsharks. Small yet very capable support craft which provide close escort to most LC in such situations, capable of hovering still for several hours the CS 950 can decimate most conventional targets, as they rain down 1000 35mm high explosive shells in less than sixty seconds.
The company spaced itself around the Research centre; the lights, which would normally illuminate the centre exterior, were dead. A clear sign that no power was working thought the Sgt. the LC, lifted of and climbed into the darkness of space; the CS craft followed them. Both would stay close to support the Marines if need be. The old sergeant held his AWS 14 into his shoulder as he rushed towards a clump of rubble. He was careful as to not jump or leap to high so that he would float into orbit. He felt the suffocation which is associated with wearing the AAG suits, he hoped his Marines would not panic and that they would remember the training which they had been given concerning basic functions and operations in these suits.
Sergeant Nikon heard in his ear piece that 1 platoon had found a opening, his platoon number 2, was to follow them in and to search one end while one platoon searches the other end of the structure. The other two platoons were to remain outside, number 3 was to be on stand by in case they were needed inside the centre and 4 platoon was to remain outside for cover.

Inside the Research Centre the Sergeant observed frozen death, his torch attached to his suit hood provided a gloomy light as he and his Marines searched through the dark and powerless halls of the Centre.
“ There appears to be no sign of anyone,” said the lead Marine as he stepped carefully down the dark hallway. Each man wore a small recording device, which sent back images and sounds to the LC; this was then logged into the Cruisers Computer so it could be used for Intel.
The lead marine approached a slimy clump of flesh, at first in the limited light he was uncertain as to what it was, but under further observation, the realisation was all to horrific. Lying in a frozen pile was a young humanoid girl, her face still complete and sweet looking, she appeared to be around three or four? The rest of her body was a shredded pile flesh. The Marine felt like he was about to puke. His stomach churned as instantly he thought of his young sister who was of similar age. Behind him the Sergeant firmly grasped his shoulder, telling him to move on.
“ I thought no civvies were allowed in these centre’s let alone families” remarked one of the Marines as the platoon passed by several more dead children.
“ Families are always welcome in these places when they serve as wonderful test subjects.” Coldly said one of the Corporals as he shook his head in disgust. He himself a father of three children also thought of his own family.
The Sergeant turned to his Lieutenant.
“ Sir should we break of into two sections?” He asked as the marines had temporarily paused.
“ No, we should stay as we are.” Answered the officer as he silently fought back tears.
“ Sir, we would cover more ground” Firmly suggested the Sergeant.
“ No Sergeant we will stay as a platoon.” Answered the young Lieutenant as he clenched his hands securely around his Assault Carbine.
The lead Marine approached a giant hulk it lifelessly hunched in a giant dark brown-black pile. He kneeled down as soon as he saw it the nearest marine also followed and signalled to the others to do so.
Sweat drenched the Marines faces as the suits contained their hot body temperatures. Sergeant Nikon lead a group of Marines into a large room, the room opened out into rows and rows of cells. The giant room appeared to be a giant jail with cages piled on top of the other reaching several storeys high. One of the marines slipped on some slime, which coated the walls and floor. The cells in most cases were lined with the flesh of the previous occupants. A limb from one of the cells fell to the wet floor; it impacted with a damp splash of silence. The Marines catching sight of the falling object trained their weapons into the direction. One of the younger marines sighed in relief as he slumped slightly forward releasing a breath inside of his suit. As he did so, a sharp claw dragged across the backside of his body, panic riddled throughout him as he turned too late as his AAG suit began to deflate, the vacuum began to affect his body, he felt his life drain away in one painful jolt of extreme cold. The other Marines turned seeing their comrade die, helpless they could only watch on in horror. Ordinarily the extreme cold would have killed him instantly, but as the leak released pressure gradually it only served to prolong his death.
A stocky marine approached his dead comrade he looked behind him. Somehow the AAG suit had been torn and thus the supposed armoured suit had been breached causing the Marine to fall victim to the harsh vacuum of space. The stocky Marine looked at what had torn the suit; it was a long thick yet extremely sharp claw. The claw was a part of a long slender leg; two other Marines closed in their weapons at the ready, one of them shot a beam of light into the darkness where the leg and claw reached out from. In shock horror they saw a giant creature hulked over itself lifelessly, its frame although idle still appeared to be extremely menacing. The Marines backed up one of them nervously caressing the Trigger of his Assault Rifle.
The marines went on searching the rest of the institute, finding several more of these giant spider like creatures as well as numerous devastatingly torn and defiled bodies of IRDB personnel and test subjects. The marines withdrew to the safety of their vessel in orbit, now the mystery would take them to Frektar itself.

Lake Kintasharia, Frektar, 15-7p-3200UD
The rain pelted down heavily, the large lake taking a wet beating from the night sky as rain filled its capacity further. The large lake surrounded in a secluded part of the plains by large and thick woodlands, the giant tree’s reaching skywards provided sanctuary for those who lived by the lake. As the rain soared down, the inhabitants of the small village sought shelter from the wet and cold, within the wooden huts flames flickered causing shadows to dance along the walls and immediately outside the huts. Several of the wooden shacks lined the lake; several others reached into the woods, which began several metres from the Lake, itself. Before a few of them were boats, resting on the shore. The wooden row and sailboats no longer than a few metres rain filling there open hulls with cold water. By one such boat, a young woman huddled; her whimpering frame crouched over itself as the relentless streams of rain continued to tear down. In her arms was a bundle of wood, her earthy coloured rags soaked and pressed against her soft creamy skin. She stood up now, with more strength and determination, forcing her self into the wind and rain stepping through the flowing mud and onto a large shelter. Her long hair tangled and wet was a mess; she stepped into the largest of the shelters, past several other humans who huddled before an open fireplace. She placed the wood in a corner and stepped into a corner of her own. There she shivered behind the crowd and far from the burning fire. The orange glow contrasted with the darkness of night, the entire room glowed.
The light highlighted her face. Her right side definitive beauty, soft sensual curves and brown warm eyes, her cheeks slightly raised and round, and her chin strong, yet pointy enough to be very feminine. The other side of her face, though a stark contrast was hideously un-feminine, scarred and harsh, the results of being scalded at a young age by hot liquid iron. Her left eye low and droopy, as well as her left cheekbone almost being exposed completely. Thus this incredible beautiful young woman had two faces, one of undeniable Goddess like beauty and the other a horrific monstrosity, a marriage between beauty and the beast, perfection and imperfection. The rest of her body though a figure of excellence, petit and womanly, her skin a creamy white and her hair a deep flowing brown. Her back though like the left side of her face was scarred and deeply damaged, since the accident her injury had caused resentment, the superstitious villagers dejecting her seeing her hideous features as being a curse and bringer of evil spirits. She had supposedly caused the storm, so the village elders ever in need of a scapegoat cursed her and thus she received several lashes from a long whip, the lashing not unfamiliar to her had caused her skin to welt and bleed. Now she sat back to the wall inside of the shelter, alone, and in an imposed social solitude.
This is how Naroma Elinime had spent the most part of her life, alone and without friendship.

Outer Frektar Solar System, FSS Interna, 15-7p-3200UD

Major Lev Neil sat in his quarters aboard the Freedom class Cruiser, FSS Interna. He read over his mission parameters, earlier on he had met the company which he would go onto the world with, he also had several briefings with the Vessels commander, Commander Haric Kindarsen, a experienced Senecian officer with some 20 Universal Standard years of service behind him. The FSS Interna was a former Federal Space Command vessel, after it had finished its fifty odd years of service and distinguished career it was to be scraped, but by some fluke it was categorised as a potential vessel to be used by the FAC. After be re-fitted with up to date equipment and with two of it’s main guns and three of its torpedo launchers being removed the Interna was a capable ship. The Freedom class vessels were first launched when the FSS Freedom was set out from port in early 3118, with production lasting until 3155. The vessels were originally a versatile cruiser to be used in fleet actions as well as in independent roles. It’s long range torpedoes and multi array weapon systems made it quite a capable vessel. The FSS Interna was a part of this proud heritage of worthy ships, launched in 3152; the vessels saw service along the Federation and Solitudian rim, where it took part in the giant relief efforts during the Dark recession of the Solitudian Empire in 3159. The vessel then went on to serve with distinction in the battle of Jungartha in mid 3171, when a giant fleet of the Gorfghngarfian Empire attacked a rim system of the Federation of Allied Worlds. The FSS Interna managed to destroy 3 large Gorfghn ships and damaged 2 others; it also shot down over 30 fighters and smaller attack craft. After the larger Gorfghn fleet was forced out, the FSS Interna stayed in system for several years, and at the start of 3175 it was retired to reserve status where by it remained in the auxiliary services of the Federation. In late 3192, the proud craft was retired with full military honours. After the refit, the FAC retained the name the craft, with a new role the Interna was ready by late 3197 for covert service.
With a length of 250 metres and a height of 52 metres, the Freedom class is a slender vessel with incredible speed and manoeuvrability it is a potent vessel. With state of the art concealment devices the Interna can appear to be apart of space, with no long range or even short-range surveillance being able to find her. The Interna was the ultimate covert operations platform, and that was how she was to be used in the Frektar system.
Lev knew all too well that the Interna was a capable ship, but that was the least of his worries, he was mostly concerned with his team. He had been briefed that they had been trained in the local customs and cultures as well as the indigenous weaponry. Neil and his small force was to land on the world disguised as locals, and this included them being armed with old style weapons, such as blades and ballistic throwers. Lev looked over his new clothing, tanned pants and an olive brown tunic, made of leather of some sort. His personal weapon was a sword, long and lightweight, he has been told that it was made of the same light weight steel used in ships armour, so it’s breaking during a fight was not a fear he had to worry about.
Lev was schooled in Federal Combative’s which was a method of unarmed and armed combat, he actually was apart time personal combat instructor as well as Mixed Fighting Discipline tournament fighter. So he was familiar with close quarter combat. Lev stood up, stretching his arms as he did so; he adjusted his grey tunic and exited his quarters. He walked down the light white grey corridor towards the vessels command centre. He passed a young galaterrakian sergeant, the sergeant saluted him in a respectful manner, and Lev returned the respect.
He entered the command centre of the ship, the vessels tactical and strategic brain; the room was dark with several crew members sitting behind holographic screens and consoles. In the centre of the room was a large hologram, which projected stars and the ships heading. It was incredibly accurate and looked like real space, except it was a scaled down version. A command ensign manipulated several keys on a panel at the foot of the large hologram, as he did so, one of the stars shown was immediately blown up to a larger size. It was the Frektar sun system, next to the giant sun and worlds was data on the inhabitants, environment, atmosphere, mass among other items of information. Lev approached the large hologram, “ So that’s Frektar?” He asked as he looked at a large holographic image of the world and its orbiting moon. The image was orbiting slowly and was so clear as to lead you to believe that it was the real world except down sized. The command ensign turned to Lev, “Yes it is sir,” she said as she looked at the handsome human.
“ Would you know where Commander Windsor is?” He asked as he adverted his attention from the image to the attractive young Galaterrakian woman.
“He should be in ship operations, sir” she answered smiling affectionately.
“ Thank you, and have a good one, Ensign” He said as he headed to an automated door which lead to a corridor which would take him to the SO (Ships Operations) room.

Meanwhile in one of the crew quarters of the vessel Squad Leader second class Jano Mark of the Federal Army Special Operations was laying comfortably on his bunk. His pale blue-grey skin was typically galaterrakian and his jet black her also distinctive of that race, his forehead though was quite unique, instead of the usual folded crease of cartilage he had several smaller creases. This however was not unusual for galaterrakians, as indivual crease types were as common as eye colour or skin tone is in the human race. His however was oddly distinct giving him an apparent individual quality. As he was about to dose of into some welcomed sleep he heard a beep from his door.
“ Who is it?” He asked.
“ Mark open up” replied a familiar voice.
Command Sergeant Daman Tukio entered as the door slid smoothly open, “Mark sorry to disturb you, but in a short while the new Operations Commander is going to inspect us, so I thought you and the other Non-Coms should start getting everything ready.”
“ Just as I was settling in as well” smiled Squad Leader 2nd class Mark as he sat in his bunk re-adjusting his uniform so as to remove any creases.
“ So what’s the word, how long till we reach this world?” asked Mark.
“ Another day, the company seems all ready, I know before we get some sleep tonight the Lt. Want’s us all to get some more close quarter drills under our belts along with some culture familiarisation. Have you tried on your native attire?” Said Sgt Tukio as he sat on a spongy chair by a small desk.
“ Yeah, I don’t mind it actually, I was also doing a few drills with my blade” He answered as he pointed to a long slender curved sword in a neatly decorated scabbard.
“ This op is certainly going to be different. Unlike anything else we have done. In some way’s I’d rather a infiltration into a Gorfghn palace than a op of this type.” Said the Sergeant as he scratched his crease on his forehead; his skin tone was a lighter blue in contrast to Mark’s.
Mark smiled, “I here ya.”

South Arastan, Frektar

The night was dark and cold, even though Dren and Amissa were together each felt eerily alone. Neither one had spoken since they entered the thick forest, and now wild sounds of the surrounding woods began to sink in. Amissa was the first to speak, “We should rest, I can’t see a thing and if we hold up a bit those Chengtorian warriors will be easier to hear and ambush, that’s if they are still following.”
Dren turned to face the direction in which they had just come, “I agree, who knows what things are exist on this world for all we know there could be more of those spider things, those Uytl Brem’s that where in the institute.”
The pair sat poised on the foilage of the forrest floor each clutching onto their pistols for extra comfort.
Several long and agonising minutes past, Dren had felt sleep begin to clutch onto him, he was snapped back though at the sound of a thumping.
“What’s that?” He asked.
“Ssshh” Amissa hissed.
Both of them turned towards the sound, it began to grow louder, in the silence of the night it seamed immaculately clear. Amissa squatting walked lowly towards a large bush which she could barely see.
Kneeling behind it she looked and listened on, the thumping continued, it sounded like a drum, almost ritualistic.
After a few more seconds the noise ceased, and the sounds of the forrest continued.
The pair began to doze of their bodies tired and taxed from the last several hours. Dren was the first to slip into sleep, Amissa shortly behind him.
“Argghh” A distant scream tore both Solitudians from their sleep, Amissa grabbed Dren by the arm and the pair bolted towards the noise. Through the darkness of the foilage and tree’s they could see a bright luminiciant light. Fire, thought Amissa as she stopped just short of the open field which had shadows dance across it as several buildings scorched violently. Dren stood by both watched as dozens of houses burnt their wood structure added more fuel to the blazing inferno. Dren noticed a child her body black and slick, stumble towards a well, he stepped forward wanting to help her.
“No, wait” Amissa said looking for who or what had started the fires.
Her curiosity was answered as two riders galloped towards the girl there large mounts tore into the lush ground, both were covered in thick black hides, and there headgear seemed to be the skull of some native creature. Each was armed with a long and thick broad sword which dimly glinted in the fire light, even though the steel was coated in blood and muck. The girl unaware and obviously in shock continued to stumble around the place, her innocent body badly burnt and scared.
“No” cried a woman who began to run towards the small girl, her clothing was torn and her breasts exposed, both Dren and Amissa stood by helpless by choice or circumstance, neither knew. One of the riders stopped his
mount lurching and rearing up as it halted. He looked down at the woman, Amissa had had enough.
Rushing out with Dren close behind her she fired her pistol into the centre of mass of the nearest rider, he fell to the ground in a mighty thump. The other rider surprised turned at the two attackers, he did not recognize their attire nor did he understand how they had killed his fellow warrior. Instinctively he charged the two strangers, “Yearggh” he yelled.
Both Amissa and Dren stopped walking and poised themselves each firing a volley from there automatic pistols, the rider and his beast came crumbling to the ground at speed. Amissa ran over to the woman, while Dren made sure the two riders were dead.
Amissa tapped her translator hoping that it was still functioning. “Are you Ok?” She asked.
“Yes,…thank you” said the bewildered woman who began to cover her chest up, her face was coated in grime, soot and sweat.
Amissa sighed inwardly, the translators were still working, she thought.
“Who were they ?” Amissa asked her pistol now holstered and her face more soathing, than the aggressive look she had just a few seconds before.
“The Saralh, but, but the are from the across the river, they have never been this far out before.” She said still dazed.
“Is she OK ?” Asked Dren who had in his arms the young girl, her small head resting in the crook of his arm.
“I think so” Amissa answered.
“Yuanita, are you alright” the woman said as she approached Dren, her focus on the young girl in his arms.
“She’ll be ok, if she can get medical attention” answered Dren as he handed the girl over to who he assumed to be her mother.
“Are there any other survivors?” asked Amissa as she surveyed the blazing village.
“Yeargh, Yeargh” Amissa turned to Dren, “Get them somewhere safe, more riders are coming.”
Amissa looked at her pistol she barely had a magazine left and she doubted Dren was much better of.
She knelt behind the well, the flames caused all types of illusions as the surronding trees seemed to sway. A large rider neared his head turned over to the two fallen warriors.

Multh Nargh had heard a few loud cracks from the other side of the village, he was uncertain of what they were, to him they sounded like sharp thunderclaps, though their was no rain nor clouds. He signalled two other of his fellow warriors to join him as he galloped his tragmoth towards the side of the village where the noises had come from. As he searched he noticed two of his fallen warriors, some of the villagers must still be alive he thought.
“Be careful, the peasants are still active” He yelled to the two other riders.
He then pulled his legs over and jumped from the height of the tragmoth to the ground. His large sword at his side, he unseathed it and looked around, he noticed some motion near the well, he was uncertain if it was someone or if it was caused by the fire which still lurched brillaintly to his right.
He saw a strangely dressed woman, she leaped up from behind the well and pointed something odd that was above her fist. Multh raised his sword and approached her, the next thing he saw was a flash followed by that loud thunderclap noise, he fell backwards, his chest hot and stinging felt as though he had been kicked by a tragmoth male in season. He was unable to move, what ever that was it penetrated his chest plate, mail and the thick tragmoth hide which covered his torso.
The woman aggressively dashed towards the other riders, she knelt low and fired two double taps at both riders, each fell as the projectiles smashed into their bodies through there primitive armour.
Multh layed there unable to move or speak all he could do was observe and listen, and what he heard disturbed him. He thought of the prophecy which the locals spoke of, the one about strange warriors from another world, he had heard the prophecy from a old scholar who he and his warriors had captured. While torturing the man for information the man kept going back to this ancient prophecy. At the time Multh did not believe it, even now he still did not, though what he had just witnessed and experienced caused him to wonder. These off-worlders were suppose to battle for all the people’s of Frektar and stop some threat or menace which is suppose to destroy the world. Multh was well aware of similar beleifs and prophevies as most of the peasants that he and his warriors had conqured held such ideas.
He watched as the sky appeared clearer to him, he noticed several trailing and moving stars, he swallowed deeply tasting his own blood. The prophecy has begun he thougt, the sky was becoming filled with arrows from the heavens. Multh watched in amazement and then darkness engulfed him.

Dren looked to the sky he had only just noticed what the woman and child were gazing at. Thousands of meteors were sparkling the sky, it must be a meteor shower he thought, but he did not remember any being forecasted back on the institute. Oh well he thought, gives us something to look at atleast. The woman hugged her child closer as she began praying, Dren ignored it, he was more concerned with finding out if there were anymore of those riders and if they could escape to somewhere less hostile.