Vliyain Khoy's Story

It was a big day for the crew of the Lalitia.

After hundreds of years, Misranan citizens would commune with the outside world, and they would land upon the soul of a planet not as alien to them as many would think.

The Lalitia was a white cruise ship, formed much like the Leviathan of past stories. The top of the ship looked as though it had large, layered plate scales upon it, lined with what one could assume to be gold, though it was likely a metal that came in much greater abundance. The ship was much smaller than many battleships, but large as a luxury vessel, more than one thousand feet in length.

It had several guard ships, Furrow-Balkar, surrounding it in the case of an emergency. They were hardly a threat to the Aschen ships that surrounded Terra now.

Upon the ship, the captain, Vliyain Khoy, and Zanzaria's mayor, Magna Impus, gazed from the large viewing station.

"Have we gotten through to them, Captain?" Impus asked.

"Attempting communications, sir."

Vliyain hardly felt threatened. Before he was able to speak, however, the mayor chimed in.

"Now, don't do that," he spoke confidently, brightly, trying to establish themselves as a friendly vessel as soon as he could. "We mean no harm. This is the Lalitia Cruise vessel from Misrana. All we want, now, is simply to land upon the planet and establish connections with Terra, nothing more. We've come quite a long way. The only weapons we have are for security, nothing else."

Khoy narrowed his eyes, watching Impus silently.

"Mr. Hatchet! Mr. Hatchet!" The anxiety stricken voice of an adolescent sounded over the roaring crowd, which dispersed from the ship. It was Myles Lancaster. He was dressed in casual linen; not the same grunge style he usually sported. His sights focused on a slender, black suited figure, of which had its back turned to the boy. "Mr. Hatchet! Can you tell them what to do?! They're not listening to me!"

A sudden, cold gaze was cast upon the incompetent child. One azure eye, and one cardinal eye; both contrasting the stark white of that man's skin. A wavy head of hair shaded the unnerving focus of Hatchet's eyes on Myles. His hair was infamous for being saturated in a myriad of violet dyes. The flare of rainbows seemed to splurge from his person.

A single finger sprouted up, only to point directly at Myles, with the full intention of stopping the child in his tracks; which, it did. Myles' lips almost parted for him to continue whatever previous whimpering he did. Hatchet's hand then whipped around behind to splay the scene before them. His unyielding gaze did not leave Myles. "Enjoy this." It was all he said, before grazing pass Myles to assert the group in question.

Thoughts and worry that he had disappointed Hatchet began to swirl in Myles' mind. "Damn it."

A handful of reporting staff, of which were at least publicly employed by Hatchet, were crowding the designated area Hatchet had appointed them to; he picked the spot where they'd have the best view, get the best shots, and being just fifty-feet away from 'parade' of foreigners, capture the best quality of sound.

Their bickering annoyed Hatchet to no end. "Oy! Ye'don't do it dat way! ...I don't 'tink ye'do it dat way, 'least." A fumbling, tumbling creature poked around with the other staff bodies. "Frye!" A calm, yet stern tone carried its way from behind, to the well-dressed troll. The creature's elongated ears perked up, as he was swooned by the looming authority of the voice. "Eh..." He turned to face Hatchet. Beady, lemon yellow eyes were stricken with guilt, as they darted away from Hatchet's stare. The troll slapped a calloused, green hand on his chin, only to nervously itch at his wiry, grey side-burn. "Sorry, Mista' Hatchet. Let you take care o' tings, I will." He motioned his hand to the remaining staff.

Hatchet sauntered pass the troll, not sparing him a second glance. They were in trouble, now.

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A news reporter, microphone in hand, stood in-front of the crowded cruise ship. The spotlight was on more than just the newly arrived 'aliens.'

"Hi I'm Terrence Wolf, and as you can clearly see behind me, there's breaking news for Terra, today." The man was clad in a black suit; his skin actually complimented his appearance, as he was very normal compared to the surrounding people. "The foreign nation, identifying themselves as deinzens of planet 'Misrana' landed in the Wing City Spaceport, this afternoon. It's assumed negotiations took place among the Achen occupants and the crew of this... Well, actually, if you look here..." The reporter kept focused on talking into the camera; he stepped off to the side, and motioned his hand at the Misranian people, which still poured out into the spaceport floors. The camera view would zoom into the vibrantly dressed people stepping out of the ship, and then onto the ship itself. "...It looks more like what we might recognize as a... cephlapod, which is an extinct insect found in the various deep seas of Terra." He stepped back into full view of the camera. He began to speak, once more, until the startling steps of the mammoth caused his whole person to whip around. His back crowded the camera's view for only a quick second, before he spun on his heels to face it, once more. "WOW! I think I've seen it all, folks. Let me quickly identify that animal for you: A mammoth. Well in this case, it seems to be a mechanical mammoth. It is another extinct animal, which was found here on Terra, but... apparently they still have the marvelous creatures stomping around on planet Misrana." The reporter's brows flicked up, as he was still exasperated from the mere excitement of the entire encounter. "Well, we'll continue to record the arrival the Misranian people, LIVE, and clue you in on anymore breaking news, here at CJN."

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The looming figure of Hatchet kept a keen eye on the people. "This seems... interesting." He regarded, precariously in thought.

The golden mammoth carried three figures within a pearly white howdah. The figure sitting comfortably in the middle was a rather obese man in a fancy suit, nearly as wide as he was tall. The second was a slight, beautiful young woman dressed in a blue dress that streamed from the mammoth's side and licked the air. The third was the stoic pilot of the Lalitia, who had golden horns upon his head. As they rode on a ways, the mammoth stopped at one of the many entrances into the spaceport building, extending the trunk to the door.

The fat man walked forward first, taking his daughter's hand in his own, with his other sitting atop a shoulder of the nunki captain. They walked carefully down the animal's trunk, into the spaceport, greeting the onlookers who were inside. Cameras flashed and reporters crowded. The grotesquely large man rose his arms and his black cane, smiling. "Thank you! And greetings. I am known as Magna Impus, and I am the mayor of the city that has sent the Lalitia, our ship, here to Terra! It is an honor." His voice was a low, but powerful baritone.

"This man, to my right-" he began again, patting the man with the golden horns, "-is Vliyain Khoy! He is the Lalitia's captain. This lovely lady-" He drew the girl closer to him, and she could only giggle, "Is my lovely daughter, Tanni Impus. Now, there are questions, yes?"

"We're back with you, LIVE, from inside the Wing City Spaceport." Terrence, the news reporter, quickly began to whisk himself from the camera crewman, and off to the presence of the Mayor; they were only a few yards away form the entrance. His head snapped back to look into the camera's view. "Oh! It looks like the leader of this campaign has finally arrived!" He beckoned the camera man to follow.

Soon, Terrence's microphone protruded from the crowd of hands, which undoubtedly bombarded the Mayor's personal space; one might have thought the mics resembled several spoons to feed this obese baby. Terrence was no different in his approach. "Magnus Impus, correct? Can you tell us what your world is like?! Are there other people like the ones we've seen here? Do you know if more of those people will visit Terra?" He uttered the words as best he could to reach the volume of the other marauding news-casters. The camera view jiggled here and there, and several camera flashes from onlookers contrasted a would be clear sight of the Mayor.

"That's Magna Impus. Not Magnus," the mayor told Terrence, pointing to him with the end of his shiny black cane.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, sir. Please continue." An enormous wave of embarassment rolled over the esteemed newscaster.

Magna Impus nodded, then began his short speech, describing the world. "Misrana is a vast planet, currently being scarred by war. Even so, places like our city and its surrounding forest stay untouched. We are the neutral power within the civil war, and we intend to stay as such. We have observed the technology of this world, and, well, we can honestly say that the machines we use are vastly different. Every machine and device we use is not run by gasoline, or batteries, or electricity. It is run by what you folks might call magic. We think it might be a bit different from the magic on this planet, but we can't quite be sure yet. Not only that, but we live together with our creations. Each harbors a mind and soul." he explained.

"There are many of our people here that you see now. From the nunki, like our pilot, Vliyain, here, and humans, of which my daughter and I am, and the Alula, and many others. You shall be seeing them shortly. You will also be able to interview them, as well." he said with a grin.

Terrence switched the microphone between the Mayor and himself. "Can you specify for us what this 'magic' is, Mayor Impus?" The mic was, again, shoved back up to the fat man's lips.

"It is energy. Fuel. It is life. No being can live without it. Nothing can be done in its absense. It is part of everything we do, as much as it is abused and taken advantage of. Some do not remember how vital it is that we use it responcibly. But that is another matter. Next?"

The surrounding reporters all pounced at the word, which surrounded their careers; 'Next.' Their mics whipped back to their own traps, and several questions repeated over one another to perhaps catch the Mayor's attention in the same way Terrence's did. However Terrence was still curious. "Can you tell us what the process is for actually... inserting 'life' into these machines? Is there some sort of accomplished medium you use to harness the energy?"

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In the distance, now from inside the spaceport, Hatchet watched, and listened to the Mayor; he examined the cluster of people, which included the Mayor's daughter, through his telescopic eye lense. A communications ear piece, of which carried a signal to Terrence's concealed ear mic, allowed him to listen in on the chatter. A great temptation, to see the jolly fat man crack under the complexity of the next questions Terrence presented, had swooned Hatchet's interest. The pleasureable smile creasing over his lips only made this a certainty.

Meanwhile, Myles and the much tolerable troll managed to stick by Hatchet's side, so as to have their own meager debate about the whole thing. Myles began to yawn, only to breathe in the utmost vile taste of the troll's odorous fumes. The poor boy coughed up a storm, immediately lifting a hand to pinch his nostrils shut. "My fuckin' go-!"

Hatchet glanced back at Myles to let the boy know his interruption was noted. Not one word slipped out of his mouth.

A toothy, yellow grin curled over the troll's lips. Frye gave Myles a pat on the shoulder; the child's whole body tumbled forward upon impact. "Ye'should e'spect that by now." His grey, fuzzy brows lifted in, forewarning the boy of his situation.

Myles simply huffed and puffed. His twig like arms crossed in defense of the troll's comment. "You damn well know you don't have to tell me that, Oli!" He rebuddled back at the troll in the lowest tone of voice.

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The mayor sighed. "You can ask our engineers for that information. For now, I think we shall have to get going. I'm afraid my daughter must be restless to be shown around this town to see all its wonders and amazements!" he stated, attempting to push through the crowd. Vliyain and Tanni followed, led by the wall that could probably take down entire buildings with his size alone.

Terrence drew his microphone away, and almost fearfully, side-stepped out the Mayor's way. The newscaster was not similar in fashion to the fools who did step foot in the mountain's quaky stomp. He immediately spun back around to face the camera with a smile. "Well, Terra, there'ya have it. We've got new, and hopefully friendly, people heading our way. Again, this is Terrence Wolf, here LIVE with CJN at the Wing City Spaceport. The CJN logo graphic faded into the screen, and the live broadcast was halted.

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The slender black suit set a course to meet with the Mayor outside the spaceport, at the exit to Main Street. His two companions followed from afar. Myles snapped a quick shot of the tail of the parade with his cell-phone, before the rainbow of people disappeared out of sight into Main Street. Frye simply shook his head at the boy's attempt, and proceeded to push him along. "Get'yer ass in gear. Ye'll see more of them late'a."

"Damn it! You made part of the picture come out blurry!" Myles squinted his eyes at the phone screen.

"We're here, sir," said Vliyain, stopping in front of the building they had been told to come to. Magna Impus nodded, and so did the rest of his flubbery fat.

"Yes! So we are."

Magna ducked inside (for he was as tall as he was wide), with Vliyain out in front of him. The two eventually came to the receptionist.

"Hello, madam. We are here to see...what was the lad's name again, Vliyain?"

"Sk'Teth. We have come to see Captain Sk'Teth Ofarjin."

Vliyain's eyes narrowed, just a moment, until Magna nodded. "Very well, Captain Sk'Teth. Thank you for your business."

"This is Captain Vliyain Khoy. I am Content." replied the Lalitia's captain blandly, watching the sky fly by the viewers as they lifted off, quickly making it past the atmosphere. There was a unanimous cheer on board.

"The rest of the Lalitia, however, is ecstatic." The man closed his eyes and heaved a quiet sigh. "And you, Pestilence?"

Magna, who had gathered his daughter Tanni, skuttled down to the lobby, and collected his Head of Security on the way.

"Now...uh...ah! Sich, mind calling for our Derithian guards? You should be introduced to them. And the rest of our crew! I'm sure the Orange Guard will be pleased to meet them."

Sich smiled to Magna, then did exactly as told. But she paused. "Wait, all of them?"

"Why not?"

"I've got a fix." The Tactical officer reported, and a large icon flickered to life on the holographic display in front of Admiral Hanley.

She affixed her gaze to the soft cyan hues of the representation of space, with the occasional lighter icon depicting space debris. She watched the flickering yellow outline of the Obsidian Eagle.

"Hail them." Admiral Hanley instructed.

"Obsidian Eagle, this is the Esteem broadcasting on a priority one channel, please respond."

The message would repeat until they responded, as the hulking form of the Reverence II rounded an errant asteroid.

Hanley Grimaced, as the full projection of the Obsidian Eagle flickered in front of her, the dull hum of the Reverence's CIC's systems filled her ear, offering a distracting ambiance from the gravity of the situation.

She turned towards EVE, and began to nod. "Transmit all relevant data on the Asylian attacks on the Empire, and their known intention." The Admiral instructed, and EVE quickly complied, before she opened the comms channel.

"We need your help, an entity that calls themselves the Kingdom of Asylia have declared war, they have invaded the Imperial core systems, and have been carrying out hit and run attacks. They are adept in the use of magics, and psionics, and they are technologically advanced than us." These were strange words coming from an Aschen officer, whom usually regarded their training and equipment as the best.

"They hit Molecay, and the colony world of Cryo, and we've suffered heavy losses from their attacks." The Admiral explained.