Out in the Unknown

[The Upright Man]

The abysmal howl of a thousand tortured souls crawled its way up to the highest of jagged spires that dominated the world of Gulamendis. It was here, upon a mighty throne that the High King remained seated. His armour, a gnarled demonic thing of sharp spikes and barbed hooks. His helmet rested by his side, revealing a way of heavy scarring from his time during the Rite of Suffering. His left eye was permanently blind, but he saw well out of his right, black eye. Long, dark hair cascaded down from his scalp and smothered his shoulders. Blood bleached the grey, tiled floors from the self-sacrifice of countless devout worshippers who come to his court to end their own life in the name of their God. Ozuvyn ruled over Sar-Sargoth as a titan of power, seemingly indomitable to his people.

The city, a labyrinth of complex hellish spires that spew forth from the darkest pits of the planet. So high do these spires reach that it shadows the planet floor, leaving it in eternal darkness. There is no order in the chaotic placement of these building, with some jutting out of mountains at angles that seem to defy architectural physics. Through brilliance, the local Sephi had managed to procure these amazing structures that inspire terror into those that are not familiar with this planet. It is as equally confusing as it is dangerous. A kaleidoscopic terrain of dark towers that hold no sensibility in their design. Each building has protruding jagged points, each as perfectly sharp as any good blade.

Hundreds of stories below the first inhabited floors of the great spires, ziggurats, and minarets, on the floor of the planet, hundreds of millions of Sephi and other species lived and died,sometimes without ever catching a glimpse of the fabled sky. Here the light that filtered through the omnipresent gray inversion layer was wan and pallid. The rain that reached the surface was nearly always acidic, enough so at times to etch tiny channels and grooves into ferrocarbon foundations. At the very bottom of the chasms, in the variegated pulsing of phosphor lights and signs, stone mites, conduit worms, and other scavengers flourished on technological detritus. Duracrete slugs blindly masticated their way through rubble. Hawk-bats built nest near power converters to keep their eggs warm. Armored rats and spider-roaches scuttled and hunted through piles of trash two stories high.

A voice broke the ceaseless screaming that haunted the planet, day and night. "M'lord," they said, moving to kneel before him, and then bowing his head to touch the floor in ultimate obedience. "A ship is entering our airspace with an approach vector, more are following it." Ozuvyn clutched the edges of the armrests of his throne, slowly rising as though he held the burden of an entire galaxy atop his shoulders. He towered over his people, and an aura of pure darkness and terror swept through the room. A cold breeze sent shivers down the spines of his disciples, and he spoke, his voice booming, "Arrogant creatures! Their deaths will be instantaneous, and those we keep alive shall suffer for infinitude!"

 

[Boethiah]

In the voids of deep space a faint light breaks the darkness, a distant star growing closer by the moment. Their old conquests behind them as new ones begin.

The Primeval Fleet drifted its way through the endless abyss, kept only to themselves for lengths of times between conquering stars. Dotting the darkness was a fleet of vessels and in the center a fearsome construct of jagged metal, scarred with the wounds of battle, testament to their faith. Order's End. Aboard the daunting command ship and deep inside the heart of the beast was the Host Lord's chambers. Clad in mementos of battles and reminders to their great task this was not a room meant for soft touch; comfort meant nothing to Anja Aj'Rou. The young Umbaran leaned quietly against the metallic wall aside her throne, thinking, planning, realizing her ambitions. The silence was her place of being and any interruption was expected with great importance.

The sliding door to the chamber opened slowly, clanks of the metal gears could be heard echoing loudly as if her very presence weighed down on all that under her command. Entering was a young boy, wearing the ceremonial robes of the bleeding sun. "Host Lord," he spoke softly bowing on all fours, his eyes facing down at the floor. Anja gave a blank stare to the boy responding, "So one got away, is it?" The boy bowed his head lower, as low as he could, "Yes, your worship," his voice broke and crackled. Anja's footsteps were light, moving closer to the boy she knelt, placing one hand lightly on his cheek to raise his head. Her piercing pale-blue eyes stared deep inside him, his stance staggered from her overwhelming will. "Tell the captain to find it. We do not concede," her voice did not go unheard, the boy quickly stood up and marched his way to the command deck. The doors slid again, closing. The shadows grew dim as only soft light made presence here.

The fleet now set on the distant star, determined to succeed in their goals, following the will of their Host Lord grew towards the light; bringing death.

 

[The Upright Man]

High King of Gulamendis, Ozuvyn Sar-Sargoth stood proudly at the landing docks, where the pirate ship had been redirected with the more conniving and convincing Sephi, hiding their true intent. A large and robust CEC Action VI transport began to settle down onto its designated locking bay, and shortly the ramp lowered where a good two dozen men and women began to emerge, and it was clear they were fringers. They saw the sight of this planet in person, and their residents up close. Some looked to tremble while others were not quite sure what to say.

The High King spoke, "Do not be afraid, for I am peace; I am salvation." A sickening, crooked smile blemished his otherwise beautiful and delicate facial features. The Sephi around him knew what this meant, and they need not hear the orders. They launched themselves into a bloodcurdling frenzy towards the spacers, some of them were quick to pull out blasters and attempt to shoot their way through the surging crowd, but they overwhelmed them with sheer numbers. They went down quickly, and the Sephi began to flow into the vessel, tearing apart everything useful.

That was not the end of things, for the High King still had to deal with the interlopers that were crossing his borders in an attempt to chase these pirates and smugglers. He nodded to his advisors, for they would quickly begin to designate these other travellers with their own space dock, away from this one where blood began to form in great puddles. Ozuvyn swept his gaze away from his sight, taking a deep breath in as he focused on the pleasure that death brought him. Another sacrifice for his god.

 

[Boethiah]

The Primeval Fleet continued to approach the distant star, Anja Aj'Rou walked into the command deck. Walking up a small stairwell she found herself on the overarching command chair, overlooking her officers; all within eye-sight. "Captain," her brief statement was a command expecting an instant response. Without turning around the Captain kept forward and returned an answer, "Our sensors are picking up a planet on the other side of the star. We believe the ship landed there." Anja relaxed herself, slouching slightly in the chair, the automated device moved forward to keep her sight on them. A few of the officers discussed the daily operations of the fleet. Afterall, it was difficult to manage such a large fleet with a central commander. "Is it habitable?", her tone was curious, the Captain glanced to the sensory officer who in turn responded. "I believe so, your worship.", the speakers echoed what he said, in a command deck this large it can be difficult to hear with ears alone.

The ships continued their approach, their speed steady as to conserve resources. The Host Lord stood from her chair, "No life will go without judgement. I am their Harbinger. Prepare the fleet, they will join us or die." , she commanded with zealous intention. The Officers began to send orders across the fleet, the loose formation tightened into a spearhead, on their way to this distant world.

 

[The Upright Man]

"M'lord," a Sephi came forward in long, flowing robes of grey and black, taking a bow. It was clear this one had tried to partake in the Rite of Suffering, and ultimately failed. His body was flayed with scars that crawled over every inch of his flesh, and his hair came in wiry patches. Ozuvyn signalled for him to speak, "The fleet is taking attack formations. May I suggest we activate the v-150 ion cannons?" Ozuvyn took some time to consider this, moving into the bowels of the kaleidoscopic city of chaos. "Prepare the cannons, fire on them if they attempt to attack. Beacon them to land if they do not, I wish to discuss with them in person."

The High King and his entourage moved further from the docks and deeper into the city. Spires burst out seemingly from the darkness of the planets surface, hundreds of stories below from the height they stood now. Ozuvyn took a quick glance down, and saw only darkness, and he heard only suffering. Such was the way of things, and forever would it be so. He was escorted to the next spaceport for the day, the location of the approach vector for the foreign fleet.

 

[Boethiah]

The Primeval fleet continued its approach, nearing the world as its spires became visible from their distance. Anja's eyes peered endlessly out of the command deck, scanning all before her. "I see darkness, and suffering," she spoke with an eager enthusiasm. Her Captain responded less vigorously, "They're not attacking us," a sense of surprise and even concern was reflected. Anja's attention was drawn by these words, her glare changed in an instant. "Are you afraid, Captain?" She continued to look upon the man, he turned to her as fear clouded his eyes, he knew what her intentions were. "No, your worship. I serve the Host and will see death if need be."

Anja's ghostly glare stared down inside of him. "See to it that you remember this. For death will be your suffering." The Captain's internal relief was visible by a loose gesture in the rolling of his shoulder. The fleet slowed to a halt, just outside of the atmosphere. About to give the attack orders, the captain was halted by Anja's continued curiosity. "Wait.", she commanded her captain with a single word, stopping him from beginning the assault. An alerting sound screeched from a computer on the command deck. "We're receiving a... It looks like there's a landing beacon.", one of the deck officers spoke in a confused mannerism. "Prepare a shuttle for me to land." Anja moved towards the hanger, a few guards en tow. A small shuttle stood there, fit for three passengers and a pilot. The Hanger opened as the engines powered, the chaotic noise grew silent from the outside as the ship slowly glided away from the capital ship, towards the world.

Into the atmosphere the terrifying spires became more surreal. Anja was pleased by this sense of chaos, this sense of darkness. A world of death was all she saw, a world she believed could benefit her. Slowly landing, the ship touched down and a small sloping walkway lowered as the door opened. Approaching the Sephi, she was ready to find out their true intentions.

 

[The Upright Man]

The High King was pleased to note that the ships had halted their advance, and a shuttle was coming in hot. Sephi crowded around their High King, watching in earnest bloodlust, hoping for another slaughter to partake in the name of their god. The shuttle docked, the ramp lowered and out strode a woman. She moved for him, and it seemed that she already knew who was their leader. Perhaps it was not so hard, with the spiked armor, and the way the cretins surrounded him. Ozuvyn spoke, "This is not your grave, but you are welcome in it."
​

 

[Boethiah]

Anja scanned the Sephi who surrounded their leader , her two own guards stood just behind at her sides. She approached him with a few steps, her armour was protective, modern, yet light for agility and quite modest. Her gaze was empty, pale eyes looking beyond him. Perhaps she was trying to read him, or perhaps she was being unreadable herself. Her intentions were quite unclear but one thing was known, she did not come for a fight. Finally her eyes met his, sinking beyond the Sephi who protect him. "I am the Harbinger. Seeker of the Gods. I did not come here to find a grave, for the unworthy are not buried." She spoke in a challenging demeanor, but not in intention of violence, to bring out the truth in her companion of voice. Speaking to him as if no one else exists but them.

 

[The Upright Man]

Rage boiled and festered under his flesh. For eons, they had considered their world a graveyard, for it was here that the epicentre of death was found in the galaxy. The place of suffering, and she had the audacity to tell the High King they were unworthy. Though there was something in the way she spoke, and the way she had delicately chosen her words that he submerged the desire to kill. The Sephi about him looked eager to attack, but they hesitated when their High King made no comment of her words. "Harbringer of your Gods, pray tell me how I am not worthy." His voice boomed and reverberated off the spires of the city and echoed infinitely throughout the city.

 

[Boethiah]

Heeding the nature of his words she sensed an understanding between them. She looked upon their world in her ultraviolet glimpse. It was not death she saw in the land but instead in his people. The Sephi before her weren't the same as other races she's encountered. Her thoughts were quick, rapid, only a few seconds of silence before she responded to him. "Worthiness is only found in the Primeval.", her words were quickly spoken but she was not finished, the brief pause did not give time to retort. "Those who do not join us die. And those who die in vain are unworthy. The dead around me knew not the truth.", she finished her sentence with no regard for survival. No sense of fear overcame her calm. She is the Harbinger, the Host Lord. Fear of death is without merit.