NationStates Jolt Archive

The star of Soyq XI no longer breathes its light upon the universe; it withers, trapped beneath the gaze of the C'tan known as Set'thiran; the Serpent. Around the baleful orb of light; which has brought its torrid crimson gaze forth for centuries, it has began the construction of a Dyson sphere; to harness the energy of the seething sphere; and tame it; slowly siphoning it to feed him in his Material Form; even as he prepares to the first step in the Harvest that will bring him back a fraction of his true glory.

He is the Star God; Lord of the Necrons; and his relentless warriors stand ready to serve. Upon their chests, the rune of the C'tan, surrounded by a greater rune; a serpent consuming it's own tail; The Eternal Serpent, the Ouroboros. This is his mark; and it adorns the ancient tomb-ship in which he travels; using a myriad of disguises to fool the young mortal races into thinking him some diplomat from a far off nation...

Thus shall he hold his guise amongst them.

The star hissed as energy flowed in diaphanous waves from it; it's light no longer touching the worlds about it; drenching them in darkness, relegating them to eternal Night. It mattered not; aside from the Tomb Worlds; this system was, for all purposes dead. No life stirred here, save the activity of the Tomb Worlds; as more of the Serpents servitors readied to rise. Already he had plans, visions; ideals for the Galaxy. For the shaping that was to come; his dark destiny amongst the stars he preyed upon, and the races he harvested...

Bump

Bump

The probe noted the fluctuations of the star Soyq XI. Relaying its information back to QUETZAL, it altered its course, going into orbit around the star, gathering more data on the bizarre construction taking shape around the sun. QUETZAL viewed this data, and was intrigued. Few had the technology to build a Dyson sphere, fewer still even attempted the feat. A task force would be sent, the phenomena would be investigated. And if the Builders proved hostile, they would be eliminated.


______________


Dooring in near the outer orbit of the system, the Exploratory Fleet approached the construction on their own power. Scanning the area, the ships released their fighter squadrons, and moved towards the sphere.

The vast sphere was almost half completed; its surface gleaming with internal light, the sun, half-orbed by this grand structure; burned brightly as it ever have; while the sphere spun, clouding the eye of the sun like a vast cataract.

The vessel hugn near it; watching, waiting; upon the deck; in a great archaic throne, almost entombing it, was the Serpent; it's eyes closed as it tasted the delicious electromagnetic emanations of star and sentient alike; sensing them drawing nearer.

The ship seemed to fade from existence; slowly, softly hiding. Blackness enveloped it; and it waited; alone in the void; alone in the darkness. Simply waiting.

The ships moved forward, moving around the edge of the gargantuan sphere. The pilots were in shock: how could anything be so big? The silence inside the vessels was finally broken by the commanding Admiral.

"Woah."

The crew would have chuckled, had the same thought not been running through their minds.

"Sensors indicate that the thing is roughly 50% complete. Sir, we haven't detected any life signs or ships. The builders seem to have vanished, sir. Your orders?"

"Move closer, I want to know what this thing is made of. This could be the find of the century, men, I want this done right."

Hjari vessels, powered by a mix of technology from over a dozen civilizations, are much more effective than their battered, patchwork appearance might lead one to expect. The makeshift engines, however, are not perfectly reliable, and need frequent repairwork. Usually this isn't a problem. Under normal circumstances, it's easy enough for the Hjari to fix whatever went wrong and continue on their way.

For the vessel that dropped into real-space in the midst of this strangely active, darkened system, circumstances would prove anything but normal...


"What in Tyaldreth's name is that?"
"I don't know, and I suspect we don't want to."
"Then we'd best get the drive fixed, fast. All engineers report for duty!"

This last command echoed throughout the ship, and soon a dozen Hjari had begun examining the engines. Captain Tarig Vadreth remained in the control room, keeping an uneasy eye on the ship's assorted scanners.

OOC: The Hjari a race of interstellar wanderers; they usually travel in large fleets, but some prefer smaller groups. This is a medium/small ship, with about 100 people on it. Like most of their vessels, it looks like it was put together from the wreckage of several older crafts.

A raw blast of lightning seemed to surge forth from nowhere; as a Gauss Particle whip lashed out at the same time; aiming to assault the trespassers in the C'tan's domain. Energy billowed forth from the immense ship; it's Lightning Arcs and Particle whips lashing out in raw, yet rationally cold fury.

The fabric of reality twisted within the lead Otagian vessel; a portal materialising; as seething carpets of metallic scarabs poured forth; and cold skeletal death stalked into existence. The Lord raised his staff, as two Immortals moved outwards from the portal. Gauss Blasters readied; their implacable desire to kill pouring forth. Behind them, came a Pariah, one; then another; flooding the immediate area with psychic null.

Death itself had come; and it hungered. Yet more flashes of blinding energy hurtled forth in near primal desire to cleanse and kill. To consume and destroy. For their God hungered to taste sentients once more; and to bring his power forth across the entire galaxy. He would not be denied by lesser races; he would retun to power, and stalk the very stars...

The blasts wracked the ship, piercing its shields at numerous points, scarring the thick hull. As the skeletal silver forms marched onto the Otagian vessel, automated defenses came on line, firing bursts of plasma and high calibre shells.

The captain gazed at the monitors, transfixed. Tearing his eyes away from the view of the abominations, he jogged over to the Necroscope's terminal.

"Guilder, get us the hell out of here!"

"I can't, sir! Somethings blocking me from using my powers! I think its one of the larger things that boarded us, the humanoid ones. Get rid of them and we may be able to get out of here."

The captain turned to the rest of the crew, including the Riggers jacked into the interior drone gun turrets.

"You heard the man! Target the big humanoids, take them down first! Fighter compliments, engage the source of those shots, keep them busy. Launch SCCAMs at the same target. Comms, relay the orders to the rest of the fleet. I want us out of here as soon as possible!"

The Immortals took the opening blows; and returned them automatically; great blasts of energy hurtling forth in destructive rage. The scarabs seethed forward; over walls and floor and ceiling; towards the would be attackers. The Necrodermis of the Necron's shimmering and gleaming as they advanced; firing upon their attackers.

The great vessel continued to open fire; sweeping arcs of energy moving to engage the fighters; the ships necrodermis writhing at the impacts; reforming as it let fire with the immense arcs of energy; detonating a Star Pulse Generator; a vast, scything wave of raw solar energy lashing out at all ships in the immediate vicinity.

"Intruders, indentify yourselves. You trespass upon the very dominion of God; you stand against the legions of night; unstoppable. Flee, insects; and I may yet spare you."

The massive shockwave of the star pulse sent shudders throughout the fleet, cracking hulls and knocking the crew off their feet. The Admiral regained his footing just as the message was recieved. He grunted, exasperated.

"You attack first and then tell us to leave?" Oh, that's diplomacy...

"I'm sorry to say that we can't leave. Your warriors are preventing our departure. Remove them from our vessel and we shall depart immediately."

In the depths of space, fighters died en masse. Dozens were destroyed every moment, but there were thousands to take their places. Gouts of plasma lanced from their cannons, slashing across their targets.

" Consider it divine mandate; little fools. Leave now; and I will stay my wrath. I shall let you live to tell tales of this; for a new power rises, tyrant night over the stars. Not the children of the Old Ones, nor the puppets of the Warp shall stand against me"

Another flash, and the Necron's phased out, vanishing like smoke; or mist. Flashes of brief energy were all that remained. The Pariahs, the Immortals; all their insidious influence was gone; save for the semi-transparent form that crackled before them; either a concious projection, or a hologram; revealing at last the divine glory of the Serpent.

"Run, little mortals. Run now; lest I change my mind."

"Sir, the enemy boarding party is gone! The Warp is clear!"

"Good! Guilder, get us the hell out of here! NOW!"

In a flash, the Necroscope opened a door to the Mobius Continuum, sliding it around the fleet. As soon as all the capital ships were through, the door slammed shut, closing them off from the Dyson sphere.

The Sith Cruisers that had been dispatched by Lord Malice had picked up some rather odd readings from Soyq XI, and went to investigate. Perhaps they would find what Lord Malice spoke of? They would have to wait and see. Thee Cruisers slowly approached the star, not knowing what lie in store for them...

One of the ever persistant Attack Frigates moved through space, its form like a dagger in the night. The Navigtors deep within the ships hulls looked on in facination. The craft saw the Dyson sphere, and the ships scanners began to take effect.

Its crew stayed silent, in awe of the great thing before them. How could such a monster be made? It was as if half the star had been cut from existance.

Bump

Bump?

Long had it been finished; its gleaming surface drawing all the energy that Set'thiran would ever require from the limitless furnace of the star; suckling its energy that Set'thiran might be eternally sated. Yet he still craved the essence of the living; still hungered from the unique emanations of sentients. Yet he would bide his time; focus his power. There were countless races in the universe ignorant of its limitless blackness; content upon islands of ignorance.

It was time.

Time that a new God came amongst them; a true God; Set'thiran; the Great Serpent smiled, letting his tongue play across necrodermis lips. They would know the Master of all life. The grand Ancient God-Thing; awaiting the worship of its mortal worshipper-playthings.