NationStates Jolt Archive

Gilgamesh...

It was a system the Galactic Hegemony had considered of little importance. Crushed by a single Darkship, its capital planet for which the system had been named was flagged for an experiment, until the war between the Extra Solar Union of Systems and the United Federation of Planets erupted and the world was destroyed.

Which mildly inconvenienced the Mekantans, but like most actions taken against the Hegemony, did very little to stop them...

The modern planet Gilgamesh was not the same planet from which the Gilgamesh Supervisory Alliance ruled the system before the Mekantans came. More than just the original chunks of the world were used in its reconstruction, making its gravity over fifty percent higher than it was before. What had once been a cool, Earth-like world was now covered in sweltering jungles, its once calm blue skies were ravaged by constant wind and frequent violent storms.

Rebuilding the shattered planet was a trivial matter for the Hegemony. As was building the massive black ring around the world, a huge facility capable of servicing and constructing massive fleets of powerful warships.

Where Gilgamesh's moons once orbited the planet there were now eight gigantic ebon constructs, packed with factories, habitats, storage hangers, weapons, everything needed for a large, fortified military base.

Every other planet was part of the massive debris field that made up the rest of the Gilgamesh system. Asteroids, clouds of dust and gas, the ruined remains of old ships and facilities, some from halfway across the galaxy. All the work of the Mekantans.

And now, Gilgamesh's importance was increasing.



Deep within a Mekantan facility on the north pole of the planet, Torshyuv ixth Zaril crossed his arms, looking at the large meeting table. The black haired, red banded Mekantan gave a rare smile as he nodded. Like the surface of the planet, the chamber was oppressively hot and damp, but he figured his guests would care little.

He took his seat at the table, his smile fading. Now was time to wait for those invited: representatives from Balrogga and Chronosia...

Almost as the message went out, a disturbance was detected at the edge of the system as ship after ship after ship began to emerge from T-Space. If it was not a Mekantan system one would come to a conclusion it was an invasion fleet, but there was nobody that stupid. Very few races or nations could withstand the might of the Mekantan Hegemony so nobody risked their ire by even appearing to be anything but subservient to them.

The Ta’Nar were the exception.

Those beings were practically fearless in their absurdity and didn’t care what others thought about them in the long run. They have outlived many species and will continue to outlive many more. They were not only the living avatars of psionic energies but they also judged the multiverse as being beneath themselves. They have been waiting millennia for the opportunity to prove just how worthless the meatbags that rules so many stars were. This was what they were waiting for.

As ships continued to appear, the gathering now numbering in the hundreds moved to take strategic positions clearing the central location as if they were expecting something. Reality seemed to twist and distort as a massive construction shifted through the dimensional barriers and faded into being in the center of the formation. A massive structure that was too large to be a ship yet moved upon it’s own might. The thing that measured over 45 kilometers across could only be called a Battlefortress. This was the Fist of Darkness, the capital of the Ta’Nar nation. This structure was the seat of The Fallen Empire. The center of Balrogga.

Aboard The Fist, Nhur-Galladu watch as his fleets Emerge from T-Space into Real Space. Each ship was displayed on a holo-grid in front of him depicting their location in several dimensions at once. The data stream showed the gravity shadows ever present due to the singularities within their drives and the incredible power readings of the ship as they formed around The Fist. In the distance, the Mekantan vessels were also depicted.

The Warlord looked on as his ships finished arriving. All eight fleets were present as well as the four Dreadnaughts and the Heart. Each was in their assigned location as they stood neatly in formation for their Hosts. The premonitions were correct and he had prepared for the day other powerful galactic Lords would finally have the G’Drags to step up and make the rest of the multiverse fall beneath their feet. He had known this calling would eventually come and had prepared for this day. The Mekantans were considered to be one of the closest races to themselves in both Power and Potential. He was pleased it was they who make the calling for this. There have been plenty before but they were nothing but petty dictators or just madmen, all Meatbags with little potential or even power except within their own demented minds.

Liege, all vessels have arrived. We have full representation.

Thank you. Prepare for the salute.

All systems are ready.

Establish Space Minus Powertaps.

As one, each of the 1220 ships and the Fist and Heart of Darkness made connections to Space Minus, a dimension where only energy could exist. The power taps drew massive amounts of power. The ships, which already shown the output of a small star on sensors, began to flood with energy. The readings climbed exponentially and the energy filled the vessels until they began to become incandescent, literally becoming a small star in their own rights. This was a ritualistic show of strength, something Nhur-Galladu knew the Mekantans would not only appreciate but also recognize. This was something the Ta’Nar only did for those they recognized as equals (or rather as close to the term they would admit) and it was considered to be an Honor. It was very similar to the opening of gun ports to show what you are capable of doing.

At the same time, Nhur-Galladu sent out a message. The telepathic missive would be understood by just about everyone in the system.

Greetings Honored Allies. We have heard your message and we responded.

The universe seemed to pulse, eternally undulating with the subdermal, unnoticed raw stuff of Chaos. The Warp, the Immaterium, the Aeythr, the Empyrean...Such were the names for that sea of souls, that tide of malevolent psychic force. Ever present, ever potent, fed by the thoughts of every sentient, living species, it was the font of Chaos, the cradle of Gods. It poured forth as reality rent in a vast blossoming of power, a hole torn in the very fabric of creation. From it, ships slid, 10 gleaming warships of the Chronosian Imperium. The Chronosians were a warrior-race, humanity purged of weakness and perfected under the tutelage of the Dark Gods, They had embraced their humanity, their folly and their weakness, and made them into strengths.

Blasphemous science turned mere men into the super-warriors of the Astartes, forged vessels that could cross the stars and war-machines that could lay entire systems to waste. Brutal wars of attrition, of trenches and tanks and bombardments, the Chronosians thrived in slogging through the brutal ground wars of the galaxy, offering each death, each conquest, each triumph to their unholy lords, Gods from beyond the very skein of the universe. Chaos was inscrutable, eternal, it was glory that would abide forever in the depths of the Immaterium.

And it was their master, their tool, their reason for existing.

Some had questioned the wisdom of this, of arriving in this time and place. The Mekantans were destroyers who looked down upon mere humanity, and the Balroggans (while brothers in warp-taint) were equally alien and unknowable. Yet they had come, for the Chronosians feared nothing, much less the alien. They had walked the stars as avenging angels, cutting down the weaker alien lifeforms, culling the pathetic and the blind who would not bow to the powers of the Warp.

Turel, First Captain of the Angelus Ater, the First Legion of Chronosia, stood on the bridge of his personal flagship, the The Scion's Herald. He was, in this, Remiel's chosen instrument, he who would reveal their Lords might to the universe even as he relentlessly pursued the hated rebels across the stars. He would speak, with a cadre of lesser diplomats at his back, in the name of the Imperium, and so seal this compact that was foreseen to hold such...Promise.

Turel gazed out at this world transformed, at all that orbited about it, and felt nothing. He knew what it was to be in awe, certainly. He had looked upon the continent spanning palace-fortresses of Chronosia Prime with such awe, had drunk in the splendour of the Glyph Worlds with equal astonishment. This was impressive, certainly, but he would not let himself be awed by the works of aliens, even those as revered as the Mekantans.

“Have the astropaths send forth a message. Inform our fellows that the Imperium has arrived, and that First Captain Turel speaks in the name of the Emperor himself.” Various scribes, servants and slaves bowed and shuffled off into the darkness. Turel turned on his heel, moving through the bridge and out into the vastness of his sanctum. He knelt, eyes lowered to the cold stone of the floor, stone which rose all around him now. He reached into a small bubbling pot of oil, ever-boiling, dipping his unarmored hand into it. Raw sensation flooded him as he moved it, flicking the boiling droplets across his face, his armour, and over the great symbol of Slaanesh that dominated the fane, hewn from human flesh and bone.

Turel prayed, marking himself with his devotion, even as the ship and the hour, drew nearer.

Sire, the Chronosians have arrived as you have fortold.

Yes, I know.

What are your orders?

We wait for our Hosts. The next move is theirs.

-OOC-
Sorry, a post is comming.

(OOC: It's short and shitty, because my knee brace is itchy, my painkillers aren't working, and my carpal tunnel is acting up.)

Torshyuv smiled as the two dear allies of the Hegemony arrived, a mental command causing the chamber to pulse with bright crimson patterns.

It was then that Torshyuv ixth Zaril, Grand Priest of the Goddess All-Consuming and de facto leader of the planet Ihkasutare, addressed his guests, his perfect English still tainted by his Mekantan accent.

"... You know why the Hegemony has asked you here... You know what this system is for..."

He stood, placing his hands behind his back as he began pacing throughout the room.

"The Extra-Solar Union of Systems... Such a mighty, invulnerable alliance... What force could dare stand against ESUS, challenging such a force is a fool's errand... Unfortunately, it does make a good fight rather rare, doesn't it?"

"... You know the purpose of this alliance, and why you out of all the powers the Hegemony knows, have been invited to this meeting... Combat is the very blood that runs through the veins of peoples like ours... For power, for tribute, for the sheer thrill of it, we seek violence, conquest, destruction! These lessers are many, but it is the lot of the prey to outnumber the predator!"

"Most dangerous are those predators that hunt in packs... I invite you, honored and respected allies, to join with me into a new pack. We three galactic powers, the Mekantans, the Ta'nar, and the followers of Chaos, are among the most powerful forces this universe knows..."

"Together, this galaxy will be our hunting grounds, and no force, not even ESUS itself, could stop us... Gentlemen join me... in the reformation of CAGE!"

A return message was sent to the Mekantan as well as the Chronosia vessels using the same channels from none other than Nhur-Galladu, the Warlord and living Avatar of the Ta’Nar.

“You are right, the Ta’Nar have held the illusion of peace long enough. Our minds desire to Hunt once more. For too long we have pretended to like the Prey. We have fabricated kind gentle faces so we can get close to the Prey and learn their ways. We have used our abilities to discover their technology and their cultures. We find them lacking in sentience and strength. We have long ago decided they are not even worthy of our pity, only the destruction we bring to them.”

“We are tired of watching these pathetic meatbags scurry across the galaxy like the vermin they are. They need to be exterminated completely. We will raze their civilizations to the round and then we will raise their own dead and send them after the survivors. We will devour their sentience as our rewards and reap their technologies to use against their neighbors. We shall take their minds, you their bodies, and Chronosia shall have their Souls. Together we shall put the rest of existence to good use.”

After a pause, Nhur-Galladu continues with a final query.

“What pitiful excuse for a civilization are you thinking of to be our first of many feasts?”

"There are so many amongst us, the vermin in our midst, scurrying across the cosmos..." Turel's voice came loud and clear, pulsing with the zeal that defined his race. Were they not the chosen of the Gods? The very sons of Chaos? Had they not endured through the void? They had forged pacts and turned allegiences, defined the universe by the very fury of their being. Now they stood, examples of them stood, before the inhuman superpowers that they shared the ESUS with. They were simply men, and yet Turel let his voice rise to join those of their alien allies.

"They pollute the universe with their heresy, their idolatry, their godlessness and their disbelief. They are, all of them, chattel. Cattle races to be cowed and broken beneath the fire of our advance. You have chosen wisely in your allies, for the Balroggans are steadfast and glorious, and we Chronosians have tamed the arts of war across many centuries, we have let our skill define us to this weakling universe.

In all things the Emperor has pledged himself and his forces to this cause. In all endeavors will we stand as brothers and as equals to those we consider true examples of power and glory.

This day, friends, brothers, we forge a crucible. CAGE shall bear forth the fire that shall crumble and gutter the entire galaxy, even the universe, beneath our implacable will."

On that day, the galaxy changed forever...

The day the treaty was signed, the Coalition of Advanced Galactic Empires was responsible for the eradication of fifty-eight star systems. Cities burned, fleets annihilated, planets were shattered, and stars extinguished, and their peoples...

Both resources and population went to use...



Deep within a Mekantan base inside Gilgamesh, Torshyuv ixth Zaril waited patiently, watching a large coffin-like box intently.

Soon, very soon, the Hegemony's research would result in just what CAGE needed...

Soldiers...