King Neodin Shadowslayer's Story

Sire, three incoming vessels. They appear to be signaling for communications. Shall I respond?

Aye. Activate the Arcaneogram.

As you wish, my lord.

After a moment the screen within the bridges of the Terran vessels would come to life with a mirage of static, as if the receptors were trying to comprehend a signal that had never been previously encountered. An eerie low hum resonated from the speakers. Slowly the snow storm of incoherent pixels warped and shifted. Cosmic energy flowed through the screen like a conduit as it was gradually illuminated with a golden hue. A soothing and calming aura of tranquility and peace flowed from the object along with a soft tune that melted away any anxiety, tension, or uneasiness in the room with the symphony’s warm embrace. The radiance flowed from the glass like a graceful golden flame and melded into a tall humanoid form.

The figure grew in size until it nearly doubled the height of the human crewmen. It was wrapped in long flowing robes that just barely covered the being’s clawed, paw-like bare feet. A long furred tail swayed along the ground. Short golden brown fur covered the being’s body large and muscled body. Like a shining waterfall, a golden brown mane surrounded a fierce yet noble feline-like face and flowed down his shoulders and back. His eyes shone like two stars that illuminated an aura of great wisdom, power, nobility, virtue, and honor. A massive broadsword, jagged and covered in glowing runes, rested in his paw-like hands. They gripped the hilt and held it like a cane with the point facing downward. The image of golden light and warm flame shimmered slightly as he raised a clenched fist to his chest in a salute.

“Greetings, friends,” the being said in a deep, strong, yet gentle voice, “I am Neodin Shadowslayer, son of Lo’din the Fearless, King of the Aryites, High Priest of the Chosen, and Prophet of Leolik. On behalf of the Khroniktan Alliance, I extend a banner of peace and friendship towards you and your race. Please respond if you can understand me.”

"We greet you then, King Shadowslayer," Aaron Vrail nodded, "and we are pleased you come in peace. We understand you perfectly. If you would tell us where you come from in the Multiverse, how you came to our system, and why you decided to come here?" There were still questions to be asked, of course. Just because someone said they didn't want in trouble didn't mean there was no threat.

The two other ships pulled up to Nero's Fiddle in a flank, but made no aggressive or hostile actions against the Aryites. Vrail briefly turned to a nearby technician. "Search the Union archives," he commanded, "get me everything you can on the Khroniktan Alliance, if there is anything at all."

“Our people hail from the world of Khroniktus, a domain not of this realm.” replied the shimmering visage of the Aryite priest-king. “It is an ancient world abundant in arcane and magical energies. We have journeyed here through a gateway formed between the folds of time and space in search of kinship among the stars. Several of your moons ago we encountered a faction known as the Aschen Empire during another of our explorations into this dimension. After a short diplomatic meeting, we had agreed to meet on the world of Terra in order to secure a possible treaty and trade agreement. Our vessels come bearing gifts and diplomatic convoys for your people. In exchange for the many exotic foods, trinkets, furs, and other trade items on board our cargo vessel, we were to acquire knowledge and technology.”

As the Terran vessels drew closer, an invisible scan resonated across the ships. Information regarding cargo manifests, weapons, positions of personnel, blueprints, and other information that may be a boon in case of hostilities poured into the Khroniktan Frigates and Galleon. Their crystalline hulls shimmered with light as the defensive shields were activated.

They were new to the cosmos, but they were not naive to the possible dangers that lurked in the darkness.

Aaron frowned slightly at the mention of the 'Aschen.'

"I am sorry that you had the misfortune of meeting with the Empire before you met with us, High Priest," Vrail nodded, "you must have come to our dimension in a different time when Terra was under the occupation of the Aschen. We have since fought them off and regained our sovereignty as a planet. Although we currently have an uneasy peace with the Empire, it was not in their place to designate our home-world as the grounds for diplomacy between your two nations."

Aaron cleared his throat. "That said, I would be happy to welcome you into the Sol System as guests of the Terran National Government. My people would be only too happy to receive you on our planet, if you would allow me to escort you there?"

The Aryite king’s lion-like maw tensed with a frown. He turned for a few moments as he brought his attention to an unseen party. King Shadowslayer spoke long with them. His words bore vague resemblance to a miss-mash of the Terran Middle Eastern and African tongues, yet they flowed like an ancient river refined by the guidance of time. There was a long pause as the priest-king locked himself in deep thought. Finally he returned his attention to the Terran.

“Yes, Captain.” he said. “I am afraid we were delayed due to certain… domestic issues on our home world. The construction of these vessels and the advancement in our portal magic were temporarily halted by an aggressive and advancing military campaign against our lands by a most heinous and dark entity. However, after a grueling and courageous stand, we were able to push them back and resume our research.

“We offer thanks for your hospitality, Captain, and would be honored for you to guide us to your world. Lead on!” he said with a smile. The cosmic energies forming the visage of the Aryite king began to dissipate. Within moments the bridge of the Terran vessel returned to its previous state.

The Triremes turned in formation quickly, their thrusters blaring as they began the journey through the Sol System back to Terra.

Aaron Vrail, meanwhile, would be consulting with one of his technicians.

"We have nothing, sir," the crewman shook his head, "whoever these 'Khroniktans' are, they're not in our records. Or in the Scatteran's. I think they were telling the truth when they said they were from another dimension. No organized nation has had contact with them in... well... ever."

Vrail sat contemplatively in his seat, mulling over the facts. On one hand, accepting the Khroniktans posed a dangerous threat. This union was alien and mysterious. Who was to say the lion-men were not plotting their downfall this minute aboard their ships? The Trireme's backs were turned to their own. It would be easy to shoot them down now. What if the Khroniktans were enemies in disguise?

That said, if the Khroniktans WANTED to kill them, wouldn't they have done so already? The fact that they were willing to commune and treat in a civilized, respectable manner already spoke volumes about their character. Perhaps they truly desired diplomacy? If so, then securing an extra-dimensional ally for Terra could also be an enormous asset in the long run.

Pros and cons, pros and cons. Though young, Aaron was anything if not careful. Reason and intellectualism had always been the captain's principle moral guidance, and they hadn't let him down since. They had advanced him through the university an early age, keeping him at his books while he friends went off to party and drink. They had kept him prudent and disciplined in his service to the TNG, quickly elevating the aspiring soldier from bridge technician to forward-defensive overseer to first-mate to captain. It would see him through now, in this trial.

"Open a comm-link to the Aryite," Vrail gave an order to one of his men. A moment later, the audio-link would be established.

"I thank you for joining me, King Shadowslayer," Aaron spoke calmly and fluently, "since we're relatively close to Terra, I'm going to refrain from using slipspace travel or any other means of hyperspace transportation. Just a steady thrust should see us there in a few hours time." He twirled at a curl in his hair. "Perhaps you could tell me about your people? Your nation? You must understand that no one in this universe has any idea who or what your alliance is. We don't even have a basic grasp of it, really. We are very eager to learn."

As the Terran vessels lumbered through the cosmos, the Khroniktan ships followed closely behind. They gave no sign of acceleration, no sign of friction against the space dust or asteroids that surrounded them, or even the fabric of reality that wrapped around the physical entities that swam through its embrace. They simply went – like magic.

It was true. Due to the almost paranoid cautiousness that the Khroniktans practiced during the engineering and construction of their vessels, their ships were outfitted with enough firepower to take out a medium sized fleet and had virtually unlimited power. The Khroniktans took nothing to chance when it came to the unknown.

Sire, the human officer is requesting communication via audio. Shall I patch you in?

Aye, very well.

Yes, my lord.

“Aye, Captain.” The Aryite’s deep voice rang through the channel. To the average man, the being’s low resonance would be chilling, yet calming. It was like the low rumble of a waterfall mixed with the hum of a great battle horn. Neodin was a charismatic and careful speaker – a king in all rights of the word. “I honor the opportunities to strengthen the bonds between our peoples. During our scouting missions to this realm, we have accumulated a limited knowledge of your world.

“Our world, Khroniktus, is a world scarred by eons of war that has stripped the flesh of the earth. Most of Khroniktus is covered by wounds that have thus far been immune to any form of healing bestowed upon it. Only a small portion has retained the required sustenance for life, thanks to Leolik’s blessing. Due to the scarring, the ley lines that run through the fabric of the plane have been exposed, allowing access to the raw cosmic energies that flow at the core of Existence.

“Over the course of millennia, the Aryites – my people – and the Rokin, have learned to access and channel these arcane energies. Instead of creating tools to alter the world around us, we sought inward and studied how we could manipulate and harness the world – for the good of all. Generations of studying what your people call magic has made us adept in its properties. Because of our choice of advancement, we have remained in what your people call a ‘Late Medieval’ period. However, recent discoveries have prompted us to look outward – towards the stars.

“Overall, the Aryites are a peaceful people. We are a nation of scholars, sages, philosophers, magi, architects, craftsmen, and priests. We serve the mighty and righteous Leolik, who guides us in His ways and ignites within us the Eternal Flame. However, when provoked, we are a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. A true Aryite fights with honor and ferocity, courage and cunning, strength and keenness of mind. Whenever a malefic tyrant has sought to encroach upon our sovereignty, they have always been met with far greater resistance than they have comprehended!

“The Rokin have been our close allies for centuries. They are a stout race that has a resemblance to the avian species of your world, like the Aryites bear likeness to your wild felines. Rokin are renowned for their grand choirs, music, poetry, and literature. We have several among our voyage that are chronicling this momentous occasion.

“There are two other races among our confederation: the Derew and Elementals. A Derew is a noble and magical creature formed from the forest. They take the form of great living trees. The Elementals, as you may guess, are creatures that represent a personification of the elements. However, these two members of our faction are not represented in our convoy. Their preference is to remain in the territories that they have called home."

"Interesting," Vrail nodded, fervently listening to Neodin's brief insight. If he was truly the first man this side of the Multiverse to have contact with the Khroniktans besides the Aschen, then he wanted to know as much about him as he could. "It's a curious tale. Remarkable how such diverse and unique races can all unify together in a peaceful alliance. I think our own universe could learn a thing or two from yours."

The captain reached for a glass of water that an engineer presented to him, sipping at it tenderly. "You'll find that our little corner of existence is not much different from yours, King Shadowslayer. We have armies and empires and nations. There are weapons and cities and churches and schools. Magic exists as well, though no quite in the same way it exists for your people." Vrail took another sip, shaking his head. "But enough of this, you shall learn all there is about Terra soon enough." He leaned forward in his seat. "I am curious. You mentioned earlier that your Alliance has recently been engaged in a conflict with a 'most heinous and dark enemy.' Who is this enemy you speak of? Why were you at war? I should think that most of the intelligent races in your dimension would have allied themselves with you by now."

Neodin released a weary sigh and went silent for a long moment. “They are called the Erebim – The Dark Legion. For over a thousand years they have waged grueling and unrelenting warfare against my people with seemingly inexhaustible strength. The Dark Legion has sought to annihilate us for generations because we refused to kneel to the false divinity of their god-emperor. Living darkness swallowed our land as their armies descended upon us. The Erebim are the dark demonic creations of their Emperor…

“They are incapable of kindness, mercy, or love, but exist only for destruction, carnage, and death. The Erebim are darkness given life, evil given form, and hatred given steel. Their allegiance lies solely with the Dark Emperor, whose malice can sunder the earth beneath his feet. We were nearly destroyed by their hate-driven crusade, but were finally able to push them back with great courage, strength, and the blessing of Leolik. Yet, they persist. Year after year a new campaign is waged against us. We have learned to mark the seasons by it. Hah!” the Aryite king chuckled. "Regardless of our success in driving them back, the constant bloody war has made our people weary. Some have given in to The Emperor's demand for allegiance - but at a terrible cost."

Aaron listened to Neodin's elaboration carefully, his brows furrowed, his chin on his fist. On one hand, this tale spoke in defense of the Khroniktan's valor and courage. Fighting off an overwhelming menace in defense of one's homeland was perhaps the most noble cause a man could fight for. Whoever these Erebim were, they certainly sounded like a grave threat. Vrail was happy that the Aryites seemed to have it under control...

On the other hand, what if the Khroniktans had inadvertently brought the Erebim with them...

"No need to worry then, King Shadowslayer," Aaron nodded, "there are no Eribim here. At least, not so far as I am aware of. I hope you shall find rest and comfort in your stay on Terra. I am certain the TNG will lend every faculty to make you as comfortable as possible."

A nearby technician gave Aaron a signal. The captain nodded curtly, before turning back to the comm. "In fact, we are approaching Terra now. Please, High Priest... enjoy the view."

That said, the planet (which had been growing in size at a distance for the last few minutes) would now become completely apparent. A medium-sized planet, Terra was beautiful. Lush blue oceans... thick green forests... proud, jutting mountains... rolling deserts of sand... Terra indeed was a multifariously geographical planet. Several small clusters of metal and lights dotted a few areas on the land masses, alluding to cities.

...that said, there were also a few unpleasant sights. Several long, stretching scars bore into the one of the continents crudedly, as if some god had jammed a knife into it and dragged the blade along the surface. There was a fair bit of polution in the nothern hemisphere of the globe, giving the area a slightly smoggy outlook. Many of the visible cities looked as if only a fraction of their buildings were alight, the other half of their metropolis left in ruins and darkness.

Indeed, Terra bore some scars.

“I pray that it is so, Captain.” Neodin replied. “For my people have expended many resources and much manpower in the mission of containing their path of destruction to the desolate wasteland that the call home.”

The Aryite priest-king stood before a large window in one of the Khroniktan vessels. Though the outer appearance of their ships was of slick, seamless, golden crystal, the inner halls resembled the stone passageways of a medieval fortress. They were filled with the warm glow of magical torches that lined the walls. Neodin braced his large paw-hands on the stone-slab windowsill and eyed the planet’s view through shimmering rendition of a window.

“This world is truly beautiful…” he said to himself. “It bears much resemblance to ours, yet…”

“It is also sick…” replied another deep Aryite voice.

Sheodin Thundermane stood just a hair taller than his brother. Azure and silver robes flowed across a body which was covered in auburn fur that contained traces of silver, gray, and white. A long silver mane flowed across his shoulders and upper back as his eyes, filled with an ancient power and wisdom, looked at Neodin. An aura of ancientness, authority, and incredible power resonated from him, much like the king. Yet his was much more cosmic and arcane in nature. A long furred tail swung behind him. In his paw-like hand he gripped the handle of an enormous mallet like a cane. The neck and handle appeared to be constructed from a strong polished stone. Runes covered the neck that lead to the crystalline head, blue as the deepest sea, which reverberated with a low.

“Aye…” Neodin nodded. “See those lands at the head? They remind me of the smoke-clenched mountains of Ereb Nataan.”

“I can feel the planet cry out to me, brother.” Sheodin leaned on the windowsill. “The elements writhe in agony from the poison and scars inflicted upon it. Clearly, these beings have much to learn about the inner workings of the universe.”

“They are young, Sheodin, and do not possess the same affinity to the astral plane as we do. If they allow it, we will teach them what we can in exchange for the knowledge we desire. Truly, seeing this world in such pain brings sorrow to my heart.”

“Perhaps…” Sheodin sighed. “I doubt they are ready for such knowledge though. We would need to nurture their wisdom before supplying them with the knowledge, lest they use it for nefarious purposes.”

“Aye… Look, brother! See those citadels of steel and stone? Their masonry vastly differs from ours. It also appears that many are in ruins. Perhaps from war?”

“Ask the Captain. It would be unwise to stumble into a conflict we are ill prepared for.”

“As my thoughts…” he said before returning his attention to the connection with Captain Aaron. “Captain, your planet is very beautiful. If I may ask, what of the scars that mar it? I see much destruction among your metropolises. Is your people at war?”

"We were, King Shadowslayer," Aaron commed back, "a bloody, costly war with a foe that desired our planet and our freedom." He turned towards his own bridge-window, admiring his homeworld quietly. "We 'won', technically. Sometimes it doesn't feel that way."

A technician spoke up quickly. "Sir, we have clearance for landing in the Wing City Spaceport."

"Copy that," Vrail nodded, quickly comming back to Neodin, "King Shadowslayer, we are now going to descend into Wing City, the capital of the Terran National Government and one of the largest cities on our planet. I'll send you the coordinates. Just stay on our tail."

He looked back towards the technician. "Take us down."

“Is there ever truly a victor in war? There are those that survive, and those that perish. The similarity between our peoples is that we fight not to assert our dominance, but because we must. We fight so that previous battles were not in vain. We fight for survival – and to honor the spilled blood of our kin.” Replied the Aryite. “I will organize our landing party, Captain.”

The massive crystalline careened into orbit around the planet. Cosmic and arcane energy surged across their surfaces, forming pinpoints of light that pulsated and rippled like waves on a golden sea. From the pinpoints emerged a dozen smaller vessels that were crafted from the same crystalline material. They rivaled the Terran vessels in size, but bore rectangular or diamond-like shapes.

Inside the vessels were primarily crates of cargo – exotic fruits, meats, cheeses, furs, and ornately crafted jewels and other trinkets. However, some of the ships were filled with security personnel. Protecting the line of rectangular Galley transports were flanking rows of diamond Trireme Fortresses. Evenly spaced, the caravan followed behind the Terran vessels.

The formation descended slowly upon the Terran capital, the glittering ships passing quickly through the planet's atmosphere and passing into the city below. An ocean of buildings greeted them swiftly, the Terran populace teeming with life just below.
The Triremes would lead the vessels to a large spaceport some miles away and would direct them to a designated landing dock. Upon landing and exiting their ships, the first Aryite diplomats would be greeted by a series of Terran politicians flanked by marines.

The ships glided through the planet’s atmosphere. Despite the terrible friction, the Khroniktan vessels remained unfazed as if unaffected by the mundane laws of Existence. Their crystalline hulls retained their glowing golden hue as they floated over the city. As the Galleys descended to their designated landing zones, the Triremes remained in aloft like guardian angels over their earthbound cousins. They took defensive positions around the station – passive yet alert.

A single vessel diverged itself from the herd and landed where the flock of politicians had amassed. It landed with the broadside facing the welcoming party. The vessel hovered above the ground instead of landing directly onto the pavement. A moment passed before the side of the ship resonated with swirling light.

From the light emerged several pairs of armored feet. Gallant figures clad in golden plate exited from the light. An aura of mystical holy energy surrounded them. They towered head and shoulders above the Terrans and where two or three times their girth. Sheathed on their backs were large broadswords, shields, maces, and bows. Fur, ranging from a glossy black to a pale yellow, covered them where their bodies were exposed. The fur that adorned their feline-like faces and heads were neatly trimmed, tied back, or formed into dreadlocks. Other manes were gray and thinned. Large banners, bearing their gold and red standard, were gripped in the gauntlets of the two front Aryites.

The armor-clad lion-men marched lockstep to a rigid rhythm of snares, toms, and bass. However, none of the Aryite Chosen wielded any instruments among their arms. It was as if the cadence resonated from the air itself, or an invisible orchestra of spirits had materialized to guide the holy warriors. Two columns of ten marched with five paces between them.

“Shemot!... Imaki!... Shemo’ imak’ shemot!” barked one of the Aryites in sync with the cadence.

“Magtzeer!” he shouted. The columns and marching beat ceased at the order. “Lehuka nazeh makedat!” As one, the two lines pivoted inward and stood rigid with soldierly discipline.

“Ledaha!” The soldiers, in a robotic sync, stretched their gauntleted paw-hands behind their backs and unsheathed their large broadswords. Their blades resonated with runes of courage, righteousness, and virtue. They gripped the runeblades in both hands and placed the tips against the ground.

Another figure emerged from the ship. He was wrapped in long flowing robes that just barely covered the being’s clawed, paw-like bare feet. A long furred tail swayed along the ground. Short golden brown fur covered the being’s body large and muscled body. King Neodin Shadowslayer stood two heads above the other Aryites, and towered at twice the height of the Terrans. Like a shining waterfall, a golden brown mane surrounded a fierce yet noble feline-like face and flowed down his shoulders and back. Strands of silver and gray intertwined with the golden brown. His eyes shone like two stars that illuminated an aura of great wisdom, power, nobility, virtue, and honor. A massive broadsword, jagged and covered in glowing runes, rested in his paw-like hands. He gripped the hilt and held it like a cane with the point facing downward.

As he walked down the aisle between the columns, the Aryite Chosen lowered to their knees and bowed their heads in deep reverence to their King and High Priest.

Following Neodin came another figure. Sheodin Thundermane stood just a hair taller than his brother. Azure and silver robes flowed across a body which was covered in auburn fur that contained traces of silver, gray, and white. A long silver mane flowed across his shoulders and upper back as his eyes, filled with an ancient power and wisdom, looked at the Terran convoy. An aura of ancientness, authority, and incredible power resonated from him, much like the king. Yet his was much more cosmic and arcane in nature. A long furred tail swung behind him. In his paw-like hand he gripped the handle of an enormous mallet in the same fashion as his brother. The neck and handle appeared to be constructed from a strong polished stone. Runes covered the neck that lead to the crystalline head, blue as the deepest sea, which reverberated with a low hum.

"King Shadowslayer," a large, African-looking gentleman stepped forward, offering the Aryite his hand. "I am Parliament Chairman Rubano Malijin. It is my esteemed honor to welcome you to our humble planet." His smile was deep and disarming, his coal black eyes welcoming and inviting. "We have a transport waiting for you. It would be our honor to escort you into the hub of political activity here in Terra: our Government Center."

“Shuyamb.” rumbled the Aryite king. His voice was strong, deep, guttural, intelligent, yet gentle, kind, and diplomatically reserved. He brought a clenched paw-fist to his chest with a dull thud. “Greetings, noble leaders of Terra. I bring signs of kinship, peace, and prosperity from the free peoples of Khroniktus. We come in the name of righteousness, honor, and brotherhood. Among our cargo ships we carry exotic gifts of furs, fruits, meats, cheeses, clothing, jewels, and strong drink. Bring us your weary, so we may feed them. Bring us your sick, maimed, and wounded, and let us heal them. Bring us your homeless, so we may clothe and minister to them. Let us break bread and share knowledge, so both our futures may be brighter in the sight of Leolik."

Rubano indeed appeared quite taken back. Diplomacy certainly didn't work like this anymore.

"You honor us with your gifts, King Shadowslayer," the Parliament Chairman was quick to recover, "and we accept them graciously and humbly." A skilled diplomat, Rubano knew better then decline the charity of a possible ally. "It shall be our pleasure to return your generosity with prudent hospitality. I pray you, come with us to our Government Center. Let us make parley after we have eased your journey's weariness from your shoulders."

Neodin nodded to the man and turned to the other tall Aryite. “Brother.” He clasped his hand over Sheodin’s shoulder. “I ask you to remain here and organize the unloading of the Galleys. Ensure the clerics are supplied with Spells of Tongues, so they may communicate with the Terrans.

“Aye.” Replied the Arch-mage. He then turned and dismissed the procession. “Captain Sandrunner! Go and locate your uncle from the tavern that you spoke of. I will be there shortly.” One of the soldiers gave a quick nod to Sheodin and ran off.

As Neodin and two Chosen followed the Terran diplomats, the dozen other vessels began to unload with a variety of creatures carrying large crates. Among the Aryites were shorter avian beings that squatted a foot shorter than the humans. They were clad in leather and cloth garments and carried long staffs and composite bows. Large bipedal constructs, formed from massive floating crystals that radiated with arcane energy, also aided the Khroniktans in unpacking the caravan. Within minutes, a makeshift marketplace had taken form outside the station.

“Aye,” replied Neodin as he folded his paws over the pommel of his massive holy runeblade. It resonated with a divine golden aura of calming serenity. The two Aryite Chosen had seated and gazed in awe at the city’s architecture as it zoomed past. “I am familiar with the predicament. My people and our confederation have been waging a ceaseless war for over a thousand of your years. It was only recently were we blessed with a calm in the storm so we could advance our portal magic and construct our ships.” The Priest-king paused and observed as a construction worker tip-toed across some scaffolding. “Our peoples have at least one thing in common, Marna Malijin.” He said. “We both pride ourselves in our architecture. We Aryites seek to build roads and walls that will stand the test of time. Our constructions are like carefully crafted works of art. Some of the roads that bind our lands together have done so since my father’s time, over a millennium ago.” Neodin chuckled.

As the chaos continued to unfold across the Achen world, Priest-King Neodin Shadowslayer looked upon the anarchy and destruction with somber silence. He could feel the death and hatred radiate like a furnace from the ruined cities. Their cries of agony and terror echoed through the cosmos, the astral plain, and the Between Realm.

The brought it upon themselves.

“I know…” Neodin whispered softly. “It does not make it easier to watch.”

Your sympathy is admirable, Neodin.

“But sympathy does not feed or clothe the masses.”

That, my child, is why you are taking action. Words are hollow without action to give them flesh. Now go forth and speak to the people of Langara. Go forth, with my blessing, and minister to them, and perform wonders in My Name. Bring to them my salvation and instructions, so they may be brought out of idolatry and into my light.

“What if they deny your Word and scorn your Name in favor of their false deities?”

Then my hand will not shield them from the shadow to come.

-------

The Motokhenajhi drifted among the cosmic maelstrom of the Between Realm. Time, in its ever changing and multiplying streams, flowed and twisted around it. An array of winding tributaries stretched into infinity like the tendrils of an ever-growing vine. As the streams extended and divided at the whims of Choice and Fate, great orbs of expanding energy and matter adorned their heads. The streams crossed, melded, and split at infinite intersections along their treks into the Void.

At the core of the incomprehensive labyrinth of time-space the rivers converged into a single mass. It was from this spring of limitless expansion of mass and energy that Existence sprung forth – an explosion of arcane and cosmic power. Every tributary, dimension, and divergence of time was merely an echo.

The Motokhenajhi drifted amidst this complex system, these echoes of Creation. It glided between the streams, both severed from and anchored to their laws. As the entirety of the Multiverse swelled around the vessel, the Motokhenajhi descended into a nearby stream. Temporal energies rippled as the crystalline surface collided with the dimensional wall.

“This is KAV Motokhenajhi of the Khroniktan Alliance requesting permission to orbit the planet of Langara.” hailed the vessel as it entered the system through the cosmic rift.

There was a long period of silence from the Aschen comms, much turmoil was going on down on the planet below, people were rebelling, governments were collapsing and reforming.

After several long moments, the KAV Motokhenajhi would receive a transmission from one of the numerous Aschen Orbital Defense platforms that surrounded and protected the planet.

"Attention KAV Motokhenajhi, this is the ODP 'Caprica' Langara is currently on Lockdown due to a terrorist attack committed against our people. You have however been granted special clearance, proceed to Delphi for debriefing if you're here to deliver aid. We can use any help we can get."

A Set of coordinates was transmitted to the Kroniktan vessel, guiding it to the surface of the planet to a city just outside of Caprica City.

"Acknowledged, Caprica." replied the Khroniktan ship. "Organizing landing party now. We will be there shortly."

"Sire," a Rokin knelt before the Priest-King who watched the planet from the rippling visage of a scrying mirror. "We have our coordinates. The party awaits your arrival in the hangar."

"Thank you, marna" he nodded as he waved a hand over the mirror, causing it to return to its silver hue.

Moments later a blinding light erupted in the Delphi Town Square. It shined with a golden radiance as the fabric of time and space severed and folded. Shadows fled from the arcane energy as it spilled from the portal that materialized in the square. A rhythmic rumble resonated like a beating drum. Enormous silhouettes erected from the center of the light and marched lock step into the open. They towered above the humans while clad in thick metallic battle suits. Titanic gauntlets gripped fierce blast rifles that hummed on stand-by.

Ten Khroniktan marines emerged from the portal in a column formation. The piercing azure eyes of their helmets scanned the immediate vicinity with a vast array of sensors – both physical and astral.

“Plate is clean.” Echoed the marine captain into his comm unit. “I repeat: the plate is clean. Bring in Paladin One. Assume formation!” he barked. The marines immediately broke from the columns and formed two long parallel lines projecting from the portal.

“Lehuka nazeh makedat!” As one, the two lines pivoted inward and stood rigid with soldierly discipline.

“Ledaha!” The soldiers, in a robotic sync, braced the barrel of their blasters against their chests and cupped the butt on their gauntlets. A soldier at the end, bearing a red and yellow star on his chest, stepped into the aisle. He holstered his rifle and pivoted away from the portal. The officer’s helmet collapsed with a hiss of compressed air. Slitted yellow feline eyes stared at the scene before him, and at the crowd that had gathered to see this spectacle. His face bore a coat of fur that thickened in a long mane woven into dreadlocks. A large widened as he addressed the people in their native language.

“Presenting King Neodin Shadowslayer,” he began, “King of Arydia, High Priest of the Chosen, Head of the Grand Council, and Prophet of Leolik!” The officer pivoted to face the portal and lowered to one knee.

Two more figures emerged from the portal. They were clad in a suit of plate armor that glowed with a golden light. Crimson red cloaks flowed at their feet as they each erected a standard of a golden star on a red background. The Aryite Chosen marched lock-step until they reached the center of the aisle.

“Magtzeer!” They halted.

Another figure emerged from the portal. He was wrapped in long flowing robes that just barely covered the being’s clawed, paw-like bare feet. A long furred tail swayed along the ground. Short golden brown fur covered the being’s body large and muscled body. King Neodin Shadowslayer stood two heads above the other Aryites, and towered at twice the height of the Aschen. Like a shining waterfall, a golden brown mane surrounded a fierce yet noble feline-like face and flowed down his shoulders and back. Strands of silver and gray intertwined with the golden brown. His eyes shone like two stars that illuminated an aura of great wisdom, power, nobility, virtue, and honor. A massive broadsword, jagged and covered in glowing runes, rested in his paw-like hands. He gripped the hilt and held it like a cane with the point facing downward.

As he walked down the aisle between the columns, the Aryites lowered to their knees and bowed their heads in deep reverence to their King and High Priest. A powerful aura of tranquility flowed from him like a peaceful song among the spring breeze. He lifted his hand in a calm greeting as he smiled warmly at the crowd around him.

“Be at peace, Children of Man.” Neodin said with a voice that soothed even the farthest bystanders of the crowd. As he spoke, several hovercrafts formed from a golden crystalline substance materialized from the portal. “We have come under a banner of friendship and hospitality. We have seen your turmoil and seek to provide comfort and aid. Come! Bring us your weary, so we may feed them. Bring us your sick, maimed, and wounded, and let us heal them. Bring us your homeless, so we may clothe and minister to them. Let us break bread and fellowship, so both our futures may be brighter in the sight of Leolik.”

Several smaller creatures hobbled from the hovercrafts as they landed. They stood a few feet shorter than the humans with their backs hunched. Long beaks protruded from beneath linen hoods while talons clicked against the ground. The creatures cawed and squawked at the large arcane golems that floated about, carrying heavy crates. Within moments the skeleton of a base camp took form. Tables and soup kitchens for food lines were set up directly from the hovercrafts, and portable medical tents were erected like the hairs on a cat’s back.

Delphi, despite being a modern Aschen city was now crowded with tents and shanties from evacuees and refugees from the now bombed out Caprica City, as the Aryites emerged from their portals, the sight of blood, suffering, and death greeted them as they emerged on the sight of a large refugee camp situated in one of Delphi's many parks.

Already aware of their arrival, the Military would direct the Golems and other heavy lifters to where supplies were being designated. The Marines would be quickly delegated to guard duty while anyone with any healing knowledge would be directed to assist doctors, albeit advised that Magic was not well recieved here.


After several moments, a harried Ground Forces commander greeted the Ariyite King, inclining his head to the sentient beast before introducing himself. "Commander Hall, Delphi Home Regiment. We need to tend to these refugees and make sure everything's secure. If you can spare some forces, we have had reports of looting in Caprica City, if you take the main road you should be able to reach there quickly."

Quickly they were delegated to assist in things like food distribution, and security for the flocks of Aschen refugees from Caprica City moving into Delphi.

As the Khroniktan camp took form, the scents of sizzling, succulent, exotic meats, fresh vegetables, and sweet fruits filled the air. Soups crafted from the alien food bubbled in their portable kitchens. Hooded Rokin hobbled through the refugee camp and distributed large fur blankets, fresh baked bread, and a variety of multi-colored fruits. The Khroniktans explained to the cautious and weary Aschen refugees that the fruits were medicinal and would rejuvenate their health. Aryite clerics walked through the medical tents offering advice and healing prayers in the name of Leolik. The priests greeted the Aschen with warm, kind, and comforting smiles as they represented both their deity and their people. Even the titanic King Neodin strode amidst the tents, filling the camp with his divine, righteous, and calming aura. His presence brought a wave of internal peace like a warm fire burning within – reminding them that they were not alone in this cold, dark, and evil world. Those that chose to come before the High Priest with faith were immediately healed of all their ailments. He offered words of reassurance, wisdom, compassion, and love for those who stayed.

Meanwhile, a detachment of Khroniktan marines and Rokin marksmen emerged from the portal. The marines towered above the Aschen in their advanced power suits. They went where instructed with haste while a group formed ranks to go on patrol. The patrol was led by a battle-mage – an Aryite wizard wielding an arcanium staff and clad in magic-enhancing power armor.

A group of children moved through the crowds of people and Khroniktans towards a small plume of smoke where a relatively short Aryite stood. Being only a foot and eight inches taller than tall Aschen men, he was no where near as intimidating as the rest of the Aryites when it came to size. His simple magi robe was a brilliant and flawless blend of blues, purples, and greens and his cat like feet were covered in simple wrappings. Behind him stood a very large Golem, which just about every other Khroniktan who didn't know who we was stayed away from as if in fear. But the Golem stood still, waiting for a command. Gripped in the right paw of the relatively short Aryite was a staff made of a strange material, a equally strange crystal of Arcanium stabilized on top of it.

"Gather around little ones, gather around, and listen to the epic tale of the defeat of the terrible Dark Emperor!" he cried out in a playful tone that didn't match any of the serious looks of other Aryite faces. However, the tone attracted the children, who all sat around a campfire that glowed with blends of Dark greens and blues. "And do not worry about the big guy behind me, for I have him under control." he said, not needing to gesture to the large Golem behind him.

He cleared his throat, waving his staff over the Arcane Fire. "Now, where to begin...Ah, yes I know." he muttered as the flames grew a little before dying down. Floating puppets representing King Neodin, Sheodin, and Erebuz floated above the fire, locked in combat. "It was the last battle of a long and deadly war, the great and powerful King Neodin and the also greatly powerful Arch-Mage Sheodin fought a tough battle against the deadliest enemy the likes of which the universe had never seen before!" he said. The children were mesmerized by his words and the movements of the puppets.

He told them all he could about the battle, the epic moments, the suspenseful ones, and everything in between. "Things looked bleak for our King and Arch-Mage; the Dark Emperor was closing in for the final blow before the great and mighty king caught a second wind, and charged head first with the most fierce and ferocious battle cry he could, holding in his paws the mighty sword, the Claw of Leolik!" as he said this, a powerless replica hovered above the children's head, and they were all mesmerized, their eyes widening.

"And with that sword and battle cry he struck down the Dark Emperor! Casting him to the ground where he was sealed inside a great and magical block of ice, where he remains to this very day, locked in the underworld." the Aryite, known to many as Pakhavu Golemtamer, finished the story there, the puppets and powerless replica plunging into the arcane fire, snuffing it out in a mesmerizing plume of fire that was harmless to all before it died down to a small flame. The children all looked as if they were hypnotized before clapping and cheering, asking for another story.

Pakhavu chuckled. "I'm afraid the stories will have to wait, little ones, for it is time for me to eat." he said. To the disappointed "Awws" of the children, he chuckled. "Perhaps I will tell you another story later if it will make you happy." he said. "Now run along, and try not to get in the way of the heavy lifters!" he said playfully, shooing the children away as they went off to go and play somewhere else.

((OOC NOTE: THIS POST HAS UNDERGONE IMPORTANT EDITING FROM ITS ORIGINAL VERSION. PLEASE REREAD))

The Royal Chamber of Priest-king Neodin Shadowslayer
Lion's Mane City, Arydia, Khroniktus
Second watch

It had been three days since the great battle of the Chemias System - three days since the tidal wave of death and destruction rippled over the astral realm. Many of the magi and priests of the Khroniktans had felt the tremor, including Neodin. The muted screams of terror plucked at the strings of his heart as he woke with a start in the night.

When morning came, the High Council of the Khroniktan Alliance met to discuss the omen. Visions were interpreted, oracles were prophesied, and scrying probes were scattered into the cosmos to discover the source of the anomaly. Soon it was revealed to the Aryite and Rokin sages, generals, and diplomats that a great battle was waged in the stars - one that ended in great tragedy. The Council debated at length as to what course of action should be taken.

Neodin meditated in his royal chamber. Parchment lay upon his desk and a quill was gripped between two large furred fingers. His thoughts wandered to the countless lives - men, women, children, old, and sick - that were taken from this world. The Aryite king also considered the future of his own people. Would this violence fall onto their doorstep? Was this course of action going to lead to war and the needless deaths of his own kin? King Shadowslayer bowed his head, said a prayer to his god, and began to write.


To Whom it May Concern,

It has come to the attention of the Khroniktan Alliance that there has been a great cacophony of destruction, violence, and death in the region known as the Chemias System. After appropriate investigation it has been concluded that the Taiyou Empire of Greater Niihama and the Volarian Monarchy under the command of Prince Shimizu Takayama and the Union of Dark Worlds under the command of Admiral Killigan have committed a grand act of genocide with devestating weapons of mass destruction in retaliation of the unprovoked attack by the Cybran Nation under the command of Emperor Titus Ramsao. The fabric of space and time shook as the lives of an uncountable number of souls were snuffed out by the destruction. To display such callous and disregard for the sanctity of life is an abomination to all that is civilized and righteous - and to the philosophies of the Alliance. Death, hatred, and sorrow were the only victors in this bloodbath. In response to this vile defamation of the life, the High Council of the Khroniktan Alliance has drafted the following legislation...

The quill halted. Neodin sat silent in thought. He looked at a separate parchment beside him - the one drafted by the Council. Though it had come to a vote, with Neodin's hesitant hand making it unanimous, the priest-king remained skeptical that this was the best course of action. He released a heavy sigh and resumed writing...

By the authority of the High Council of the Khroniktan Alliance and affiliated sub-factions, we...

are AWARE that the Taiyou Empire of Great Niihama, the Volarian Monarchy, the Union of Dark Worlds, and the Cybran Nation have committed acts of genocide at the Battle of Chemias and related conflicts;

NOTE their disregard for the preservation of life and peace;

BELIEVE that the Khroniktan Alliance should not associate with those willing to resort to complete obliteration and genocide;

RECOGNIZE that though the present circumstances suggested that genocide may have been the only course of action, the end does not justify the means;

ASSERT that the Khroniktan Alliance has no business affiliating with a regime without honor or standards in war;

HEREBY condemn the Taiyou Empire of Greater Niihama, Volarian Monarchy, Union of Dark Worlds, and the Cybran Nation;

THUS dissolve all trade relations between the Khroniktan Alliance and Taiyou Empire, Volarians, and Union of Dark Worlds will halt;

THUS declare that all armed Taiyou, Volarian, and Dark Rain ships that enter into Khroniktan space without official Khroniktan escort and permission from King Neodin Shadowslayer will be committing an act of war and be destroyed;

THUS warn the Cybran Nation that further unprovoked acts of war will result in a sanction by the Khroniktan Alliance mirroring that of the above nations.

SIGNED: Neodin Shadowslayer, King of Arydia, Head Councilman of the Khroniktan Alliance, High Priest of the Chosen, and Prophet of Leolik

May Leolik have mercy and compassion on the souls of the fallen.

Neodin set the quill down and sighed. He carefully folded the parchment and closed it with his royal seal. Finally, the Aryite held the folded letter over the candle that illuminated his desk. The flames engulfed and devoured the parchment. After a moment the letter would materialize from a pile of embers at the desk of all it was intended to - written in their native tongue.

To Whom it May Concern....

The letter was sent, and it would be received.

However, there was one being that also received the letter. One who wasn't supposed to exist according to the Aryite religion. This being quickly read the letter, gave a message to a lesser being, and then sent the lesser being to the Royal Chamber of King Neodin.

The air at the entrance to the chamber started to ripple as if it were disturbed water and not air. The air and fabric of space and time then opened, revealing what appeared to be nothing more than a human sized spiral galaxy. From this portal stepped a young man. His outfit, which consisted of Dark blue shoes, light blue pants, a light blue shirt, and a dark blue overcoat, matched with his equally blue hair, and almost purple blue eyes. Around the young man's neck was a choker with a small galaxy pendant on it, the core of which glowed dimly. The young man stood at six feet and one inch tall, and had lightly tanned skin that was as flawless as his perfectly toned body.

He stepped forward from the portal, which closed silently behind him, and gave a deep bow of respect before straightening out and approaching the great Aryite King and stopping at a comfortable distance of about ten feet.

"Hail, King Neodin Shadowslayer. I am Brian James, and I bring a message from my 'Father': Spiral James, God of Space."

The moment the spatial distortion appeared and the unknown figure stepped through the portal, Neodin spun out of his chair. It sailed across the room as he pivoted on his heel. Neodin stretched out his hand and a massive runeblade materialized with a blinding flash of light. Ancient mystical runes of courage, virtue, and righteousness burned across the blade with tongues of golden flame.

The tip of the jagged blade pressed against James's throat before he made a second step. Neodin glared down at the boy with eyes that burned with the same golden light. He stood nearly twice the height of James's but more than three times his girth. Despite the aged white and silver fur that weathered his golden mane, the Aryite king was incredibly strong and agile.

"You are not an Erebari assassin..." Neodin finally said. His voice was deep, strong, and stern, yet calm and gentle. "No, your visage is that of the race of man, but your aura deceives something greater..."

(OOC: This post has been edited, please reread.))

Brian stood absolutely still as the tip of the blade pressed against his throat, the pedant on the choker hanging just above the blade. The young man's breath had stopped, and his eyes had filled with fear that slowly faded as he realized that his choker was fine.

"You are indeed correct, wise king. I appear to be of man, but I am not a man. I am not even technically a living being without my pendant." he said. "I am merely a doll given life."

"My creator, The God of Space, sent me to give you a friendly message, not to assassinate you." he said. "But please, lower your blade, I mean no one in your great kingdom any harm." he said.

Once, or if, the sword was lowered, Brian would continue with his simple task, grumbling something about his father telling him that he wouldn't be in any danger at all before he spoke to Neodin again after clearing his throat. "Well, to tell the truth, my Father would like to meet you in person, but he is busy keeping the fabric of Space from being undone by many different things all at once." he said.

He cleared his throat once more as he used his index finger to seemingly carve out a rectangular shape from the air, making a peace of parchment appear and float for King Neodin to read while Brian recited it as follows:

"Dear Priest-King Neodin Shadowslayer,

I would like to apologize for making my creation, Brian, drop in on you so unexpectedly, and hope that you will forgive both myself and him for doing so without your permission. Now, assuming that you haven't already tried, or have killed Brian, torn up this paper, or both, I would like to carry on to the problem at hand: the resurgence of enemies past.

While the recent chaos of the Chemias System also grieves me, it is not my major concern at this moment in time. My concern in stead is with your great and noble kingdom. I realize that you have one many battles and wars against your enemies, and I do in no way mean any disrespect, but I fear that enemies from the past may be gathering strength again.

My sister, Dori Clockwork, the Goddess of Time, has foreseen a great battle that your kingdom will have to fight in order to survive. Unfortunately, she has not seen who you are fighting, nor has she foreseen the outcome of the war. However, I feel that it is in my best interests that I inform you of these events.

Also, in case you are currently doubting my sister's accuracy with her prediction, please believe me when I say that everything she predicts does happen, though exactly how far into the future she does not know.

With these things in mind, I would like to arrange a meeting between you, myself, and my sister to discuss this topic in greater detail. I will leave Brian with you, and when you come to an answer as to whether or not we will meet, you may tell him and he will report back to me. Do not worry about him, though, he can take care of himself quite well for a doll given life.

With Great Respect,

-Spiral James, God of Space."

With that Brian closed his mouth, no longer speaking as he looked up at the Great lion before him, waiting to be spoken to before speaking again.

Somewhere in the Multiverse
Arya'rayku K'romjhi, Zet'varethi, Khroniktuz
Lion's Mane City, Arydia, Khroniktus

"We are running out of time..." growled Priest-king Neodin Shadowslayer as he slammed his fist on the table.

Neodin was tall, even for an Aryite, and resonated with an authority that dwarfed his stature. A golden brown mane lined with streaks of grey surrounded his fierce and noble feline face and cascaded down his shoulders and back. Long flowing robes of royal purple, gold, and silver clad his sturdy body and barely covered his clawed paw-like bare feet. His eyes shone like two stars that were illuminated with an aura of wisdom, nobility, virtue, and honor. His long tail twitched in irritation behind him while he pressed his furred hands against the surface of the table before him.

"Construction on the ark is on schedule..." replied Archmage Sheodin Thundermane. "The rift to the sub-dimensional shipyard is still stable and the time-lapse ratio has not fluctuated."

Sheodin stood a hair taller than Neodin. Azure and silver robes contrasted the vibrant purple and gold that adorned his brother. His body, built like a mountain, was covered in auburn fur that was salted with traces of silver, gray, and white. A long silver mane fell across his chest and upper back. His eyes, filled with an ancient power, glowed like twin full moons. While the power that radiated from the king was almost divine in nature, the archmage's was cosmic and arcane - as if the universe itself postured before him. A paw-hand stroked his long beard while he eyed his king. Sheodin's brow furrowed in mutual concern with his brother.

"Your spellwork is not my concern, Sheodin." Neodin replied as he glared at the mountains of data that scrolled across the crystalline tabletop. "The ark may yet provide a suitable temporary home for our people, but that is its issue. It is temporary. I will not allow our people to become nomads without a land to call their own - without a land where they can sow crops, raise their children, and build a home."

"We both know that terraforming is out of the question..." Sheodin said as he dissected the data streaming from the research colony. "The process of stimulating a dead planet's magical field in order for our crops, and by extension ourselves, to thrive is too volatile."

"Aye..." Neodin frowned at the memories from the experiments. They were... less than fruitful. "Thus we must acquire suitable land from the other nations until we can perfect the process."

"That will be risky at best. Not even my foresight can predict their response."

"We will have to trust in Leolik..." Neodin sighed as he buried his face in his palms and ran his fingers through his mane. "And we will have to trust that we have the resources to make a worthwhile trade. I simply do not see how, though... Our people can barely fill the numbers of a mere colony of the Aschen or Taiyou. What do we have to offer to these giants that we seek to congregate with?"

"Well, unless you want to take land by force, we do not have much of a choice besides living as nomads!" Sheodin growled.

Neodin frowned sadly and fell silent for several moments before meeting his brother's gaze with a glare that could crumble mountains and cow storms. "If it falls to that... So be it. We have lived with this curse for far too long to see our people be burned along with our world, or for their legacy to be untold generations of drifting through the cold and unforgiving void - never to feel the warmth of a sun on their coats or soil beneath their paws. No. We will claim a new home for ourselves through either the scale or the sword!"

Sheodin pursed his lips and furrowed his brow more deeply. He exhale a drained sigh. "... Then we will pray that it is the former."

The Priest-king's eyes drifted from the table and out of the window overlooking the city. Lion's Mane still possessed the relatively same architectural style from his youth... Stone and wood. His people still walked on foot in this part of Arydia. Dark clouds loomed above the blacksmithing shops while merchants bartered their wares in the bazaar. Children played in the streets, innocent of the troubles of kings and mages. Armed guards stoically watched over the citizens as they went on with their lives.

"Yes... Pray that it is the former." Neodin whispered.

Something stirred in the depths of the arcane undercurrent that the city of walking cats provided. It was nothing to volatile in nature that it was unwelcome but something more strange and bizarre as eldritch forces formed a silent portal from an unknown location. From there a rather odd presence stepped in with its mammoth sized wizards cap. The elderly man stroked his beard with one hand while the other clutched at a fiery orbed staff of bronze and silver.

"Talk or Sword? My what an odd concept it must be to not consider that your time was long gone before you meddled with the affairs of the natural order of things." The elderly man smiled as he spoke his mind only to turn his attention to another feline that traveled along side him.

"Bigsby you speak as if that the choice to live is not something we deserve. No these proud spirits I would call brothers for existence is the only blessing we can count." The feline priest spoke up only to glance at the archmage and the king before him only to slowly offer a respectable courtly nod to the two.

"Kath teaches that all his creations are nothing more than nomads trying to claim their rights to salvation. The thirteenth prophet also spoke of something similar if I recall." The feline once again spoke and Bigsby nodded. The elderly wizard seemed to stare up at the blazing globe atop his staff and nodded as if answering something else.

"Roaming through the stars might not be a bad plan of action but let the two of us propose yet another idea." The wizard never allowed his gaze to leave his staff as he spoke. "I am Bigsby Big Hat and this companion of mine is a priest of Kath, A rakasta as his people are called, he has had a vision of your peoples arrival and wishes to extend a rather lucrative invitation." The elderly wizard began to smile like his wicked mind began to stitch the pieces of this puzzle together only to take a step back allowing his feline friend to move forward towards the two.

The Rakasta priest simply smile and his tail began to twitch slightly as he looked over the two. "What say you two? Will you hear an offer or is there something more pressing for either of you to deal with right now?"