《First Contact 》Chapter 238: (Savash)
Advertisement
The back wall of the Voidship was made of black marble, shot through with red and green streaks, had a legend writ large in gleaming blood red orichalcum, each letter the size of an entire hand.
"GLORY AND HONOR TO MY HOUSE, WITH EGGS AND BURROWS THE ENVY OF ALL, BY MIGHT OR TRICKERY MY HOUSE, MY BURROW, MY CLUTCH ASCENDANT"
In the middle of the room was an oval of black and silver sand, with flecks of gold and the sparkle of powdered gemstones. In the middle of the sand sat a muscular, squat, heavily scarred saurian. He had wings folded onto his back, thick boned wings with a membrane that was decorated through scarification, the he could glide for long distances upon and even fly at times. His scales were rich and luxurious, heavy overlapping plates, some scarred from blade, talon, or energy. His eyes were closed as he sat in the circle, an inlaid and engraved sword on his lap that glowed with pent-up energy, glowing mist leaking from the blade to dissipate a few inches from the blade.
A soft chime rang out and the saurian opened his eyes, blinking several times as his eyes adjusted to the bright lighting that had risen up with the chime. He got to his feet, his body rippling with muscle, and held out his arms.
Pieces of armor lifted from the sand, reaching out with tendrils of energy to the saurian's body before clacking into place. All too soon the saurian was completely covered with armor, even his mighty wings, and he slowly sheathed the sword behind his back. He opened the faceplate to reveal his face and moved out of the room and into the interior of his voidship.
All too soon he left the elevator, stepping out onto the quarterdeck of his might voidship, The Unsheathed Claw, pausing for a moment to take in his crew. They were all hard at work, pulling the ropes to adjust the solar sails, watching the starry skies with farsight glasses, or other esoteric tasks involved in bringing a voidship into orbit of a planet.
Around him the rest of his armada, captained by reliable allies, exited voidspace in a plume of purple and red energy. They began flashing lantern signals and flag signals as the saurian moved up next to the captain of The Unsheathed Claw, who was resplendent with his tri-cornered hat with two feathers in it. Easily identifiable to the crew.
"The armada has made the transition safely. None lost to the hazards of the Astral Realm," the captain said.
"Excellent. Bring forth my magus, I will give this world a single chance to surrender to my might," the saurian said.
"At once, milord," the captain said. He turned to the deck. "Song Magus to the quarterdeck!"
The call was repeated until a graceful elf left the cabins and moved up the deck. She was dressed in a flowing gown, vast expanses of perfect skin exposed and covered in light glittering dust of precious metals ground by hand. She moved to in front of the armored saurian and curtsied.
"My will is at your command, milord," she said.
"Contact the world below. I wish to speak to their leaders," the saurian said. He held up one hand, his fingers curled, and the talons oozed energy. "I seek not to liberate this world over rent flesh and sinew, but if that is what destiny requires, then that is how I shall free each egg, each hatchling, each clutch maiden, from the vile servitude they have languished beneath for too many generations."
Advertisement
The elven sorceress felt goosebumps rise on her skin at her lord's words and licked her lips, faintly able to taste the blood and iron of his words. She turned and began deftly weaving spells, calling upon great and powerful spirits and using words of power that made all who heard them shiver.
She stepped back as a glowing orb appeared in mid-air and slowly grew to reveal a startled Lanaktallan staring out of the orb and at the saurian. The elven sorceress kept chanting, low, under her breath, to keep the difficult communication open.
"Who are you? How dare you appear..." the Lanaktallan began.
"SILENCE!" the saurian roared out, smoke puffing out of his nostrils.
The Lanaktallan went suddenly silent.
"You have a single planetary rotation to surrender this world and its peoples to me," the saurian growled. "Should you not, then my wrath shall be great and terrible. I shall have you chased down, captured like the animal you are, and roasted over an open firepit to be devoured by my loyal crew."
The Lanaktallan goggled at the image on his holotank. As the Most High his personal holotank should have been unlisted, unavailable, but somehow the being on his holotank had not only managed to track down his holotank GalNet link code, but had overriden the display he had been showing the other gathered Most Highs of the system in order to show a saurian being in ornate fancy armor.
"Are you mad? I have tens of milliions of troops, hundreds of thousands of ships, you are in..." the Lanaktallan paused, looking offscreen. His eyes widened and he looked at the holotank, then at the Most High of the Unified Military Forces. He turned back slowly. "You apparently have, well, wooden ships."
"The pride of the Meratarrian Kobold Navy, blessed by Her Eternal Elven Grace, Divine Light of the Aether, Lady of Magic and Power, Queen Radosalvov the Eternal and Graceful," the Saurian snarled. "You have one planetary rotation to surrender, usurper, or be totally destroyed."
The elven sorceress made a gesture and the globe vanished even as the Lanaktallan gobbled in confusion at the holotank. She slumped slightly and two of her servant caught her, supporting her. She took a couple of hitching breaths and then stood up, her strength returning to her quickly.
"Send the signals to all ships, prepare for naval action, that disgusting creature is too arrogant to understand that we will not be defeated," the saurian said.
"As you wish, milord," the captain said. He looked out across the deck. "MAN THE GUNS, YOU SCURVY LIZARDS! PREPARE FOR BATTLE!"
The saurian moved up to the railing at the edge of the quarterdeck, looking down at the crew deck, and nodded to himself.
I am here now, having journeyed beyond your imagination, and I shall free every last one you, from fading one to hatchling, no more shall we dwell beneath the vile hooves of the interlopers, he thought to himself.
-----------------------
One of the orbital patrol vessels got within range of the strange ships and relayed a scan back to the planet.
Wooden ships, ocean going ships, with glittering sails of metal and crystal, crewed by saurians.
The System Most High ordered the patrol vessels to open fire.
Particle beams raced out, over half of them missing, but the three targeted ships each took a half dozen beams.
Which his some kind of battlescreen that flickered to life as the beams hit then faded away.
The Most High saw his holotank come to life. The armored saurian was back.
Advertisement
"Then war it is," he said.
Before the Most High could reply, the communication was ended.
And the holotank fried out.
The Most High remembered that the insufferable Mantid diplomat had been here only a week prior.
Perhaps she had cursed him too?
------------------------
Barrels were dropped from the sides of the ships, 'falling' quickly into the gravity well and into the atmosphere. The heat of reentry broiled away the ablative shielding until finally, deep in the atmosphere, the barrels 'popped', releasing black mist that dissipated into the air. The crews manning the planetary defense battery waited to hear orders, but none came to fire upon the barrels. One Thirtieth Most High called his supervisor, who sneeringly told him that the ships in orbit obviously had no way to strike at the surface.
The planetary defense batteries ignored the literally tens of thousands of 'barrels' dropped overboard, believing the black mist to be little more than smoke from an explosion.
The components of the mist drifted down over the hours, gathering in raincloud in some areas to be taken to earth by the thousands in each raindrop. Others just drifted down on the wind, hundreds of trillions of them reaching the ground over the course of several hours. Some, when they touched down, sunk into the soil itself, gathering others, looking for what they needed.
Silently carrying out their commands.
Aboard the ships mages worked hard, sitting within their summoning circles, as they wove powerful and delicate spells, reaching down to the surface, where they could hear the whispers of the world voice babbling on with a million voices.
The Sixth Most High of Weather Management looked down at his monitor when it beeped. It was showing a blank screen and then rebooted. Across the control room dozens of other consoles beeped and reboot.
He tapped out a com-code.
"Station Computer Control," a voice answered.
"Our consoles just rebooted. State the reason," the Sixth Most High ordered.
"Everything's under control. Situation normal," the voice stated.
"What happened?" the Sixth Most High asked.
"Uh, had a slight weapons malfunction. But, uh, everything's perfectly all right now. We're fine. We're all fine here, now, thank you. How are you?" the voice asked.
"Weapon's malfunction? What are you talking about?" the Sixth Most High asked.
"We had a reactor leak here now. Give us a few minutes to lock it down. Large leak... very dangerous," the voice said. The lights flickered and the Sixth Most High frowned, his tendrils curling.
"Reactor leak? There's no reactor down there! You're in computer control!" the Sixth Most High said.
"Don't know what to tell you. I'm staring right at. Maybe Dave in Stormtrooper Engineering can tell you," the voice said.
The Sixth Most High frowned. He'd never heard of Stormtrooper Engineering, much less a 'Dave', but he examined the station personnel list.
There it was. A commlink for "Dave in Stormtrooper Engineering." He sighed and dialed up the number, bringing this 'Dave' into the call.
"Dave here, Stormtrooper Engineering," the new voice said.
"Computer Control claims that there is a reactor down there," the Sixth Most High said.
"Let me check. Hmm, Computer Command, Computer Computations, ah, Computer Control. Nope, no reactor," this 'Dave' said.
"Well, I don't know what to tell you, maybe Vader had it put in," the being in Computer Control said.
"Hang on," Dave said.
The Sixth Most High frowned.
There was a trilling sound and then a wheezing voice answered. "Vader here."
"Uh, Lord Vader, this is Dave in Stormtrooper Engineering, did you put a reactor in Computer Control?" Dave asked.
The Sixth Most High just stared at the comlink.
"Hm, let me check. Shiela, get me the Death Star plans," the wheezing voice said. "Boop de boop be doo," there was the rattle of thick paper. "OK, Computer Control, Computer Control. Ah, here it is, Computer Control. Nope, no reactor."
"See, that is what I told those fools!" the Sixth Most High blurted out. He wasn't sure who this Lord Vader was, but he sounded important. "They insisted there was one there, Lord Vader."
"Hmm," the wheezing being mused. "You know what, you can never have too many reactors. Why don't you put one in?"
"I'll send a team right away, Lord Vader," Dave said. "That will keep the Computer Control from having a power failure."
"No, no, no need, we've got enough people here. Boring conversation anyway. All right, people, let's build this reactor," the voice said. There was a sudden squeal of feedback.
"Thank you, Lord Vader," Dave said and disconnected.
"My apologies for disturbing you, Lord Vader," the Sixth Most High said and disconnected the call.
He checked the personnel log, just in case. A Lord Vader was listed as being on of the Most Highs, so the Sixth Most High just shrugged.
"Your computer consoles may reboot several times. Do not worry, Dave in Stormtrooper Engineering is having a reactor put in at the Computer Control at the orders of Lord Vader," the Sixth Most High said.
The other beings nodded. Whoever Lord Vader was, it sure sounded important.
-----------------
The Executor Fifth Most High of the entire system and all of the Executor Space Navy clattered into the control room, glaring at everyone with all six eyes.
"Kneel in Submission is reporting boarders. Fighting is fierce," a voice said.
"You are but Inferiors has lost control of the engine room to the boarders," another voice said.
The Most High stared around himself at the control room.
There were flickering holograms in the seats. The data on the screens was wavy and kept flickering in and out.
"Take This Seriously had blown up with all hands. Boarders appear to have escaped," another hologram called out.
The lights flickered several times as the Most High moved up to the main console, staring at the ships in the shipyard berths.
He listened to what the holograms were reporting. Boarding teams streaming onto vessels, killing the crew, setting charges, and scuttling ship after ship.
All of the ships were being boarded by savage Shavashan, wearing plate armor with crystal visors, fighting with swords and shields, backed up by tall graceful Terrans with pointed ears that were using strange weaponry.
Strange portals, gates had opened up, and massive creatures had flown through. Like giant winged Shavashan, these things swooped through space as if they were in atmosphere, graceful and awe inspiring. They raked the ships with lightning vomited from their mouths, fire that they belched across the ships, even acid that ate even through the ships armor.
The Executor Most High moved through the command station, pausing to look at each hologram.
He recognized none of them.
A being cleared its throat behind him and he turned to look.
A tall Terran female stood there, scantily clad in what appeared to be metal spiderwebbing, pointed ears, her lips painted black and black makeup around her eyes. Her skin was a dark purplish color.
"Feeling lonely?" she sneered, then laughed. "The ghosts do not provide adequate companionship?"
Laughter came from the shadows, twisting to mock the Most High.
"Did you think that Aastruk of House eshThsashal would come to liberate his people without allies?" the woman sneered. "Did you take the Dreaded Dragon Knight Aastruk for a fool?"
The Most High just stared in shock.
"House Nazza'atama'azipan of course comes to his aid, bringing necromancy and the power of our goddess, Lilla'ath," the Terran said, her voice haughty and arrogant. "Your pathetic peoples have no chance against the might of the drow."
"You killed them all," the Executor Most High said, staring.
"Living, they are no use to one such as I," the Terran said.
She made a motion and the shadows seemed to expand, fill with something. As the Executor Most High watched Lanaktallan after Lanaktallan stumbled from the shadows. Their faces were half rotted, worms in their eyes, their stomachs bloated, their flanks having the hide fallen away to reveal rotted meat. The shuffled forward, moaning, all orienting on the Most High, their hands coming forward as they began to gnash their jaws.
"Dead, they are much more useful," she laughed as the dead Lanaktallan fell upon the Executor Most High.
And began to eat him alive.
---------------
The Executor, LawSec, CorpSec, and MilSec troops were awoken to blaring alarms. The ones awake stared at their displays, or frowned trying to figure out which alarm they were hearing.
It blared across the planet by the tens of thousands.
"Enemy Has Made Planetfall"
The Liberation of Savash had begun.
Advertisement
- In Serial24 Chapters
Fast Food in Another World
On his way back from a supermarket, Aili gets summoned to a medieval-like world. No cheat like ability, no overwhelming power, no big bad demon lord either. Instead, using his superior intelligence and 500 years of additional human evolution, Aili sets out to do the only thing he can - introducing the ignorant people of Jarenbourg to the greasy goodness that is the fast food of the 21st century.
8 104 - In Serial6 Chapters
Necromancy Domination
"I hope I wake up in another world." Leon hoped as he stared at his blank ceiling. His eyes got heavier and heavier and everything became dark. [WELCOME NEW PLAYER!] ... This is the story about a man who never belonged in his world and wished to be where he belonged. Wishing to fulfill his dreams of acquiring FAME, MONEY, AND WOMAN! with his class being [Necromancer] that normally humans shouldn't possess. With his army of his own summoning; he will conquer (and probably fuck) every beautiful woman he sees, acquire every money he gets reward, and be famous amongst the lands!
8 87 - In Serial7 Chapters
Pentagram
Melanie Donald was born in 2000: a less than average, ordinary girl struggling through school and stumbling through life as a square peg in a round hole.Blaze Thompson was born in 2008: a girl of immeasurable talent, who surpasses everyone around her and conquers every challenge set before her. In 2016, the city in which they lived was destroyed, and Melanie was killed. It is now 2024. Blaze is as old as Melanie was when she died, and attends a private school that was once a naval academy. She seeks answers about the true nature of the disaster she survived.What caused it? How could it destroy an entire city? How can this school, of all places, be so important? And if Melanie is dead, how can she be here? Of course, her search for answers grows just a little more complicated when a secret society makes the first move in its hunt for the two girls. A work in progress. This is only a first draft of a final story, and it'll be refined before it's finally released. Thanks for your patience. Updates: Later.
8 75 - In Serial51 Chapters
The Five Series - Loyalty
The Five Series Project has been shut down and sold for salvage, leaving Aaron and his companions with nowhere to turn. Having lost the equipment that created them, they find themselves looking down the barrel of mortality all over again. Even with the investigation of the murders over, and Werker left behind, they soon find that the darker forces in Welan City never stopped looking for them. When they’re found, the choices they are given aren’t really choices, but they must to persevere. With their new lives reluctantly pledged to the servitude of Space Security Services, a dangerous and unchecked contractor, the teeth they would rather keep hidden, are forced to show. The fight for their futures, comes from within just as much as it does from their enemies. Their loyalty isn’t rooted in their need for one another, but in trust.
8 85 - In Serial19 Chapters
So What If I'm Trash? Who Needs Cultivation?!
Qing Shan Long. They say he isn't human. An escaped experiment from some government facility, a reincarnation of a saint, a freakish superhuman. Whatever he was one thing was clear. Be it Music, Martial Arts, Science, whatever he does he excels. He was a whimsical man. A great man. A man who craving for knowledge and excitement knows no bounds, whose collection of books and personal library would even make Alexander the Great green with envy. He donated to all manners of charities and funded many projects for helping the poor and disabled. A self made man who single handedly founded one of the largest corporations in the world, Wen Qu Technologies, whose influences reach from vast fields of expertise. From objects of war such as the newest aircrafts, droids, and body armor; to life saving medicine and vaccines; to even the mundane such as video games and the fast food industry. A legendary example of determination and hard work. He was in his car being driven to a business meeting to disclose a deal that would help ensure the country could have access to clean energy and help reduce the pollution that has been plaguing his homeland for the past millenia when he was assassinated and woke up in a strange new world. How will Qing Shan deal with his new environment where the strong suppresses the weak? From the top of the world he suddenly finds himself free falling to rock bottom. Unable to cultivate, a weak body, and all but disowned by his family. (For those who read comics and watch cartoons, imagine him as being Tony Stark, Richard Reeds, Jimmy Neutron, etc level of 'Genius'. ) My own spin on some familar tropes. Another reincarnation into another world story. The MC will take over the body of someone with a trash body that can't cultivate and will be hated and neglected by his family. Pretty typical so far right? Except there won't be some amazing miracle to heal our MC, there isn't some magical grandpa to teach him some OP thing which only his trash body can use, there isn't a hidden op bloodline, and he is not from a super amazing assassin clan or genius doctor. He isn't the chosen one, he's just a guy trying his best to make something with a crap situation. First attempt at a wuxia type story! I like playing with common tropes, maybe adding a twist, to playing it straight as a classic. I have absolutely no idea where this is going to take me but please do give your input and I'll do my best so that everyone has a say in where our journey will go. I'll admit the only knowledge I have of chinese history and ancient society is from reading light novels translated to english and some old dramas, so if I make some social passe just take it as because this is another world, not exactly an AU where magic and stuff actually exist. I'm also not actually Chinese and will basically using google to help me with names and other such, if I make a mistake please let me know! (Even if you don't like the story or couldn't bare to get past chapter 1 please leave a comment so I can find out where to improve, thank you!)
8 99 - In Serial16 Chapters
Heart Of Stone
A tough life but I good future? Follow this young thief as he goes through trials and tribulations to try to keep his once peaceful life together after is is shattered and changed forever.
8 138

