Arung Iilum Archives: The Fall of Arsinon

The Fall of Arsinon: July 15, 2540 AD.
Iarius watched helplessly as orange, energy bombs rained down on the once proud skyscrapers of Arsinon.  He leaned back in his bunker, his bunker-mate, Enlai, slumped beside him, a Sinn javelin protruding out his back.  Iarius's heart pounded; all the methods he used to calm himself down during a battle had failed.  With the Centaurus Plaza assaulted by Sinn, the garrisons had lost communication with Legate Marov, so the troops had decided to try and cut their way to the Plaza.  Most fell to the Rranthi marauders.  Iarius, Enlai, and Nessith had been separated from their company, fortunately, they found this abandoned bunker.  Iarius emptied Enlai's gun of cells into his.  The little guy didn't need them where he was going.  With a full rifle, Iarius wiped gore off the scanner, checking for stalkers or wraiths.  Nothing.  Iarius shoved his helmet over his matted dark hair, the inside of the helmet lit up with small screens, readouts with his heart rate and physical health.  The Command Tower at the Plaza must be taken, for the calm voice of the Arsinon command AI, SONYA, didn't greet him.  Iarius swallowed hard, then punched open the bunker hatch and leapt out.

The black, gothic capital ships the Sinn Empire and the patchy, stolen ships of the Rebellion filled the smoldering Arsinian sky bombing the broken city; alien starfighters swarmed over the city, their orange rays tearing through steel and flesh, Sinn warriors stormed through the broken streets, slaughtering any marines who got in their way.  It was an extermination of humanity and Iarius was caught in the midst of it.  He ran across the roof top the bunker was situated on, a Gauss bolt punctured the steel just behind him.  Iarius raised his assault rifle, returning fire.  The rebel dived behind a wall, avoiding the stream of photon energy.  Suddenly the rebel exploded into flaming limbs.  Nessith came striding across the rooftop suited in his Heracles combat suit, a grenade in his giant, mechanical hand.

"Glad to see you in one piece.  Where's Enlai?"  Nessith's voice crackled out of the speaker of his helmet.

Iarius gestured his head toward the bunker, "Taking a rest."

Nessith nodded; the giant metal helmet of his Heracles suit making a sluggish up and down motion.  The two of them ran across the rooftop and scaled down the access ladder.  They dodged around the fallen chunks of masonry and buildings strewn about the metal road.  The corpses of marines and Sinn, staring blankly at the fiery destruction they had caused, littered the boulevard.  An explosion went off near by, rocking the earth and making the skyscrapers shudder.

"Look out!"  Nessith yelled, throwing Iarius to the side.  A burning Falcon starfighter careened down by them, hurtling over where they had just been.  It smashed into an bank, the colonnade and glass front imploding thunderously inward, the structure soon became an inferno.  Iarius and Nessith ran down the ruined boulevard to the corner, where it met three other roads.  They ducked inside a vacant cafe; the waiter android did not greet them; it lay trampled on the floor with a javelin through it's metal-and-wire head.  Iarius took off his helmet, running a gloved hand through his sweaty, matted hair.

"What weapons you got?"  he asked as he slumped against a wall.

Nessith tapped the grenades on his belt, "three grenades, two thermals one fission; combat knife," Iarius saw the oversized, sword-like knife strapped to Nessith's armored thigh, "and my rifle, with ammo."  Nessith pulled his massive assault rifle off his back.

"I just have my rifle and knife."  Iarius said as he put back on his helmet.  Just as the helmet closed over his neck, an explosion blew the wall of the cafe down; a Sinn warrior and rebel soldiers charging through the gap.  Nessith battered one aside with the butt of his gun; the rebel’s patched marine armor crumpling as he hit the metal wall.  He crumpled down on the floor.  Iarius opened fire on another, pointed novasteel bullets tearing through the rebel’s flesh.  Two rebels down.  A rebel, wielding a combat knife slipped beside Iarius and sliced his side.  Iarius gasped, the serrated blade tearing through flesh and armor, the wound gushed blood down Iarius’s side and the bone sliced as well.  Nessith bellowed and drove his oversized combat knife through the rebel’s armored skull; the Terran’s life spilling out of it.  Hefting the corpse, Nessith hurled it at his enemies; the limp carcass flailing into it's comrades, with such force that two went tumbling to the ground.  The Sinn, a barrel-chested, fiery eyed warrior, leapt forward and let out a ferocious war cry, lifting his long, glowing-red blade to strike down Nessith.  But, a high, piercing shriek sliced through the chaos like a Sinn's blade.  Everything froze.  The sounds of battle; the destruction; the screams of the wounded, the dying; stopped.  The harsh sound of his haggard breathing and the racing beat of his heart filled Iarius's ears.

Suddenly everything began again at a rapid speed.  Black shapes burst from the ground and the sewers, great abominations smashed their way out of the rubble.  The Sinn and rebels turned and began hacking and cutting their way through the strange new aliens.  Three marines ran by, spattered in blood.  A black-skinned, slender humanoid leaped on them, it's razor-sharp claws tearing through one and then another marine.  The remaining soldier backed up against a wall; sobbing for mercy.  The alien said nothing, but inspected it's now crimson claws.  Coming out of it's contemplation, the clawed alien jumped on the man, ending his life.  A gun shot rang out in the chaos, Nessith stood behind the creature, rifle in hand.  It slumped dead against it's last victim.

"What the eff are these things!"  Nessith yelled above the screams and gunfire.

"Let's not stay and find out!  Our ride's here!"  Iarius shouted, pointing up.  A dropship descended among the ruined towers.  The side wall hatch opened with a pneumatic hiss.  A bloody Legate Marov stood inside, smoking laser rifle in hand, along with dozens of other wounded and dying soldiers.

"Get in!"  Marov roared over the engines.  Iarius leapt in, Nessith scrambled in as quickly as his mech-suit would allow.  The Valkyrie dropship took of as soon as they were in, ion engines propelling it above the destroyed skyline.  Iarius leaned back, a hand pressing a nano-pack to his wound, eyes on the once majestic Arsinon.   Smoke billowed thickly from the buildings, obscuring most of the city.  Imperium Valkyries and medivacs swarmed from the smoke, taking with them the remains of the planet's population.  The rebel warships let them pass, focusing their fire power at the new threat on the surface.  Just as the hatch closed, Iarius saw what looked like a floating city, of beautiful and alien design, firing green beams of energy down on the city.  Cleansing it.  

Merc Companies.

Terran merc companies:
Phalanx Securities: elite Marines.  A security company from the Imperium-world Orthel.  They specialize in defense.
Devil's Men: elite Vulcans.  A merc group from the Fringe, the Devil's Men fight for the highest bidder, cleansing towns of bandits, political enemies, competition, or Swarmlings.
Caduceus Stealth Corps: elite Cyclopses.  Originally a division of Pythagoras Association, now acting as freelance mercs.  Of course, once Pythagorean, always Pythagorean.          
Hammer Company: elite Breakers.  An elite merc company from the Xeno War.  The Hammers can raid any fortress, base, or ship, human or alien, as long as you're willing to pay.
Black Angels: elite Apolloes.  Piloting pirated Apolloes, the Black Angels give aerial support to anyone who pays enough.  
War Dragons: elite Dragons.  Formed during the Alsaran Wars of Freedom by Alsaran rebels, the War Dragons are swift and deadly.
Spartan League: elite Heracles.  A merc group from the days of the Arsinon Dominion, the Spartan League specializes in heavy infantry, able to batter through ranks of Terrans, Swarm, or Notross.
Shield: elite Epsilite War Tanks.  Coming into the big league during the Alsaran Wars, hired by the Imperium to help lay siege to Alsaran fortresses.  Shield can now be hired by whoever has enough money.
Rogue Column: elite Battleship.  The only group of deserters to ever leave the Imperium military and live.  The Rogue Column fights alongside anyone who hates the Imperium.

Hidden Temple.

Arakil stepped carefully through the underground gloom, fellow Prothen were nearby, searching the rocks and stalagmites for clues.  Clues left by the gods.  Arakil went around a particularly large and smooth stalagmite; and found a temple.  It was like a cave; a large portion of some great temple chamber within this bigger cavern.  Arakil crept inside, his green, pupilless eyes quickly adjusting to the thick blackness that shrouded the inside of the broken temple.  Sweeping dust from the wall with his robotic hand, he saw carvings and illustrations lying hidden under the layer of dust.  They were carved in a style he had seen before, five hundred years ago on Arung Khai.  The side-view, geometric style of the Architects.  Every line, every curve, every dot and feature was perfectly carved, perfectly measured.  Arakil excitedly swept more dust from the ancient wall and saw an interesting image; an illustration of the Architects themselves, hundreds of extremely detailed troops.  They wore advanced battle armor, with smooth, curved helmets with a single eye in the center, their weapons were long, broad rifles that, judging from the illustration, fired very potent energy rays.  A horde of monstrous horrors that Arakil realized were swarmlings, were rushing toward the Architect battalion.  He felt a creeping sensation along his metal spine.  Dashing past many other carvings of the Architects engineering worlds and spaceships, up to the back of the ancient temple; the altar.  The crystalline shrine laid on it's side, cracked, shards of crystal were strewn on the floor.  Above the altar was an image of an Architect wearing a flowing robe and crown-like helmet.  His hands were extended, gesturing to adjacent scenes; scenes of the Architects arriving in the Dagen Region, building a homeworld for themselves, finding primitive species, the Prothen and Notross, going to a barren, wasteland, world and finding... life.  They took this bold and resilient life-form and genetically enhanced it, they multiplied it, made it more adaptable than other species.  The things morphed and grew, in size and intelligence, the numberless creatures were then put under the control of an Architect-made being: the Overmind.  The swarms of these creatures grew evermore; until, one day, they turned and attacked their creators.  Overrunning most of the Architects' worlds instantly, there was a great battle at the Architect homeworld.  The Architects, after the battle, were no more.
Arakil, wide eyed, stumbled backwards.  The Architects had made the Swarm!      

I remember when...

Moonlight shone down on me from above the towering shadows of the trees.
I remember the hoots of owls, the pitter-patter of mice across the fallen leaves.
I remember the eyes of foxes and rabbits, looking out at me from under scraggily bushes, safe in their burrow homes.
I remember eagles and crows, hawks and ravens, sitting proud in their high twig thrones, watching me as I walked through the twilit forest.

The Origins of the Swarm.

Aeons ago; the Prothen, Firstborn of Adru, spread across the Dagen Region and taught the tribal Notross the arts of war.  For a great blight was burning a path of destruction across the stars.  The blight was the Swarm.
The Swarm spread from Zarsus and burned a path of destruction to Dagen.  The Swarm encountered the Prothen and Notross, who fought off the insectoid monsters.  The Overmind, the supreme will of the Swarm, inflicted the Prothen with a terrible virus, that ate flesh and bone away to nothing.  Kalssenon, Hierarch Executor of the Prothen, devised a way, using psionics and technology, to put cybernetic implants in the remaining Prothen and Prothen eggs.  The sparse amount of Prothen withdrew to their ancestral homeworld of Arung Uni.  The Notross, after the devastating war with the Swarm, reverted back to their tribal ways, losing all technology and communication with the Prothen.  After centuries of primitive tribalism, the Prothen returned the knowledge of warp drives and ordered law to the Notross.  The wisest Prothen seers foretold that a fourth species would come from a far sector of the Dagan Region, and that their coming would herald the second coming and destruction of the Swarm.  Notross refused to accept that an outsider species could save the Prothen and Notross.  The two species fell out of communion with each other.  After the centuries, the Swarm turned to myth among the Notross, an alien invasion long ago defeated, no need to dwell on the past.  The Prothen on Arung Uni saw the signs: the return of Zarsus Prime in the night sky and the shadowing over of all adjacent stars.  The Swarm was rising yet again.

The Prometheus; Part 2.

Jason tentatively stepped forward, taser pointed forward.  The thing in the shadows stopped moving; waiting.  There was a moment of silence, no one moved.  Beads of sweat ran down Jason's forehead and into his eyes.  He reached up to wipe his eyes; but he heard a slight shift of feet in the shadows.  His whole body tensed and he instinctively pulled the trigger of his weapon.  A foot-long bolt of electricity erupted from the barrel of his taser; flying and hitting the thing lurking in the shadows.  The figure flew into the back wall with a loud clang of metal.  Jason turned on his wristlight and shone its blue beam of light on the figure.
It was a man, like Jason.  He was thin but wiry, shaggy black hair hung over his deep-set green eyes, he was dressed similar to Jason, but the stranger had bits of what looked liked armor, though it was bent and scratched.  The most dangerous thing about this man was the four-foot long curved sword in his hand.  The man lay on the ground, twitching from the taser bolt; after a minute he stopped moving.  Jason stepped toward the prone, maybe even dead, man.  He, Jason, threw himself to the ground; the curved sword sliced the air harmlessly where he had been just a second before.  The man was on his feet, sword ready, a feral hatred in his scowling eyes.  Jason, leaping up, took a step backward his taser pointed at the wild man's chest.  Jason spied a name emblazoned on this wild stranger's jumpsuit.
"Romulus, stand down!  I repeat; stand down!  It's ok, I won't shoot you again; see?"  Jason slowly lowered his taser.
Romulus stood still at first; staring at Jason.  Very slowly, his sword pointed toward the floor.  Jason breathed a sigh of relief.  That's when something pounced from behind; and everything went black.              

Lance DeMoi and the Revenge of Noctheim.

Lance ran, like he had never ran before, blood spilling onto the rocks from his many wounds as he flew down the mountain.  A horde of vampires came pouring out of the caves up the mountain; all of them contorted with their hunger for blood.  Harley, one leg broken and covered in blood, limped as best he could after Lance, the horde quickly drawing closer to him.  Lance turned and ran back up the rocky slope to Harley.
"Come on!"  Lance yelled, helping to support Harley as they both stumbled down the mountain.  Suddenly, in a black flash, a very tall, slim, chalk white skinned vampire wearing black armor and an onyx crown appeared in front of them.  He drew a dark iron sword from it's sheath on his black, bejewled belt.  Turning to his bear form, Harley roared and charged forward, teeth bared.  Dracula stood his ground, then, when Harley was close enough, Dracula skewered the werebear and nonchalantly tossed him aside.  Lance choked and fell to his knees; Harley was dead and Lance had only himself to blame.  Dracula and his army of vampires surrounded the lone Lance DeMoi.  Dracula pointed his black sword at Lance's dirty and blood-smeared throat, and chuckled.
"Well look who we have hear: the mighty Lance DeMoi on his knees and at my mercy!"
Dracula smashed Lance in the head with the pommel of his sword.  Blood ran down Lance's neck as he fell on the rocks and dirt; he coughed up blood into the dust.  Something fell of his belt and tinkled against the stones; of course how could he have forgotten!  Snatching the bottle of pure daylight, Lance jumped to his feet, Dracula snarled and lunged with his sword.  Lance threw himself to the side, whipped out his revolver, threw the crystal vial on the ground and shot it.  Pure, raw, daylight exploded over the mountainside.  The nearest vampires were incinerated on the spot, others farther back burst into flame, Dracula shrieked and fell backwards, his sword clattered against the stones.  Lance jammed his eyes shut and ran to the cliff's edge, where he peeked and saw a lake far below, a deep one by the looks of it; and he dove of the mountain into the cold mountain pool below.