Lord Captain Aztrael stalked the deck of the ‘Validus’. Aztrael was different from most Skarath; his head was smaller and less ‘toothy’ then most, his arms were much thinner and both his hands lacked a finger, and he lacked the second pair of arms all Skarath had. Most noticeably different of all were his legs, he had four spider-like legs that jutted out from under his robe in an almost menacing way. All in all, he appeared much like the Skarath ambassador Sevuri, though he lacked both the friendly appearance and attitude; he was also much thicker around the abdomen, a classic sign of a Skarath spacer, one who probably hasn’t felt real gravity or real earth for decades.

Lord Captain Aztrael looked down on the operators monitoring his vessel-mount, a Leviathan he’s had since it was a Kraken, from a raised platform in the middle of the room. He checked a nearby monitor. Everything seemed to be in order; he looked out of a nearby view port, one of three that took up a wall of the room, he could see the shattered debris of that Irken fleet that warped in about an hour ago. His ship was one of the bio-ships that hauled the Irken carrier towards the landing pad but then he heard of incoming anti-orbital fire, he could of easily have dragged the carrier out harm’s way but decided against it. He remembered with joy as he abandoned them to Machine plasma fire and watched them burn. He then casually wondered if he could find a use for the carriers’ remains that now orbited the planet. He could always use more spare parts, or perhaps he could create a new control bunker for another space beast, or maybe he could even use it all as artillery. You’d be surprised with all the uses space junk had.

The Lord Captain sat down on his control throne; made from a hodgepodge of scrap metal, padded leather seats and surrounded by communication horns, and continued to think about what to do with the remains of the Irken fleet. He sneered as several dead Irkens impacted with the reinforced glass view ports, as did several of the bridge crew as the Irkens slid out of view. Aztrael never liked the Irkens, even after all these years the grudge his kind had with them stayed strong. He wondered why the War Lord let them live, let them reach orbit, let them survive the steel demon lords attack and have his fleet carry them to ‘safety’. Honestly he never did understand the whole reason for this alliance between the Hierarchy and the Organic Alliance. Few of the Skarath tribes or lords did; the Hierarchy was just fine during the first war, true the machines never mustered a full invasion but that was beside the point, the Hierarchy survived but now they were suddenly allying with the Alliance which was lead by the Skarath’s self proclaimed enemy. At first Aztrael thought it was some clever ploy by the Omnipresent Ones to strike at the heart of the Irken worlds, but then that never happened and then he learned he was being sent to the Palcriss system to take back IRKEN worlds.

He was still in shock about all of this and still quite angry about it all too. He snarled as he pushed away his thoughts on the Irkens and went back to work. He had to patrol the space above Skarath controlled areas and ensure none of the Machines were able to rain orbital fire on their forces as well as fight the Machines of course. The hull vibrated more violently then usually done by the generators, while some deck hands lost balance from this, none of them panicked in any way it was just a groan from the beast they rode, something it did every once in a while. With relatively nothing to do, Aztrael was bored. The Lord Captain had been day dreaming a good twenty minutes when shrill static exploded from his right; he nearly fell out of his chair in surprise. He grabbed the center of annoyance and answered, “Suvat?”

“Jir vaht taye buhlat, ware ven Sevurak!”

“Ware ven Sevurak? Zevute mah say tei?”

“De Ware ven nehris suy maut arrilveret, aviss arrilveret.”

“Zhey van shietu? I’llg vahat teu muye.”

Aztrael sat up; he had more work to do this day. The Lord Captain set the receiver back onto its hook and looked out the viewport. He quickly barked out a set of orders to his underlings and felt the ‘Validus’ pick up speed and heard the roar of the generators in the background. Apparently he now had a use for all that scrap outside.

-----

The machine tank hovered over the battlefield; the air beneath it shimmered as if it was hot. This tank was different from the light tanks of battle before. It, in all honesty, looked like a big armored, floating, gun toting shoe. The Machine symbol adorned its flanks and at its back was its ‘head’, which appeared like a triangular turret with rounded edges and a sensor bank searching for organic targets. Despite its footwear like shape, it appeared far more tank like then than its smaller brethren.

Flanking the heavy tanks was an escort of ten combat droids. Skeletal constructs with plasma repeaters built into their right arms and wicked short swords built into their lefts, a modification put in to compensate their poor melee abilities against the Skarath. Their cyclopean eye’s was surrounded by more sensors ‘eyes’ all of them lit up with a soulless blue. The Machine symbol, a stylized ‘V’ painted in their chest plates which hummed from within due to their power cells. They were gaunt, tall, and intimidating to the living. They were all cheap too.

Both the tank and the droids stopped as a cloaked figure stood before them. Its robe was black with red trim, golden runes going along the trim as well. As the droids aimed their weapons the figure promptly dropped its cloak revealing a Skarath. It was clothed in a simple loin cloth and skirt of the same design as its cloak; its arms and torso were painted in glowing red runes, its face covered by a strange mask carved from wood.  It grabbed a long curved ceremonial knife from its belt and slit its palm before holding it forward then it began to chant. The droids built in thermometers detected a sharp drop in temperature as red colored energy snapped and crackled around the Skarath-thing. Strange red embers began to fall from its mandibles and it ended its chant in roar as it vomited a great spout of blood red, white hot flame and energy from its maw. The flame flew out in a great spread torching the entire party, the two droids closest to the Skarath took the brunt of attack, their internal systems melting and burning from the heat. The two droids fell in a melted heap as the others re-targeted and opened fire, the tank unleashing it plasma repeaters as well.

The flame belching Skarath suddenly disappeared in a flash of red and pink energy, leaving scorched ground where it stood. Another flash of scarlet energy appeared behind the droids on the tanks right flank. The Skarath stood in a crater of burnt ground and the droids turned to face it as the same crimson energy from before poured from the back of its wrists before focusing in to  energy blades on each hand. It charged forward, energy sparking around it, and plunged one of its energy wrist blades into the chest of one droid before sending its blade downwards and then upwards, slicing the machine in half down the center. It charged forward again, slamming into a droid shoulder first and tossing it two meters into the air and into another droid before swiftly slicing the arms of the droid behind it in one motion. The Skarath grabbed the droid by the head and crushed it against the side of the tank. The tank fired a point blank shot, as close as it could, inadvertently destroying the two sprawled out droids as the strange Skarath warrior ran beneath the tank, freeing a droid from its knees as it did. It grabbed the fallen droid by its chest and ran off with it as the surviving droids opened fire. The Skarath rounded a nearby corner before chanting again, this time a ball of strange red energy started to form with the droids chest.

The Skarath finished its chant and threw the energy laden droid amidst its pursuers. The charged droid exploded brilliantly, destroying one and sending the surviving two into the air. The Skarath quickly climbed up the wall it was taking cover behind and leaped from it as a plasma blast blew the wall apart. Energy built up into its palms as it began to descend on the machine tank. It landed feet first and immediately slammed its glowing scarlet hands on the tank. A large shock wave of crimson energy blew the tank’s turret apart and the tank fell to the ground with a great thump.  It leaped from its perch on the tank and smashed one droid underfoot, hydraulic hoses, wiring and various other metal giblets were forced out from the droids corpse. The other droid had since gotten back up and opened fire on the glowing Skarath who waved its arms and a wall of red energy formed, the plasma simply being absorbed into it. The Skarath disappeared in another flash of red this time appearing just behind the last droid.

It grabbed the droid by the back of its neck and forced destructive energy into it. The droid exploded into a great shower of scrap. The Skarath dropped its shattered baggage and clutched itself as the energy disappeared and replaced itself with pain. It grabbed a syringe on its belt and stabbed itself in the chest, injecting pain numbing chemicals into its body. The familiar numbness returning to its frame, and it walked back to its cloak and wrapped around itself. It stumbled off towards the bunkers War Lord Sevurak commanded all Skarath to retreat to.

-----

Skarath bustled all around noisily within the crowded storage bunker, all of them waiting eagerly for orders. Some played games as they waited, others slept, some licked their wounds, and others sought guidance or blessings from the priest and the acolytes that inter mixed within the horde. Since the time of Sevurak’s head banging incident, a hundred more Skarath had found their way in. To an Irken or some other sentient organic, it would all of have been quite frightening sight.

Zane was not happy, and that was putting it lightly. He and his spawn’s moment of glory was crushed by the steel demons counter-attack and his favored brother was now unconscious and worst of all, he couldn’t move, at least he wasn’t allowed to. With numerous fractures to his leg and his chest wound reopening, the witch doctors told him to rest and stay still. As Zane proudly said, the only way for them to get him to stay still was if they lashed him to something heavy, which now resulted in Zane’s current predicament which he was still metaphorically kicking himself in the head for; being tied to a fallen support girder and being forced to rest. Zane was not a person who could stand still, not of his own will, he always had to be moving of fidgeting or something, as long as he was moving he was content. The fact the War Lord had took five minutes out of his schedule the mock Zane didn’t help either.

The acrid stench of acids reached his antennae; he did not feel safe at all sharing the cavern with the corruptors. They were homicidal maniacs who could barely think straight, the fact that these ones still retained the ability to talk signified that they were new. They wouldn’t stay that way for long, warily thought Zane. The bunker vibrated again, chips of concrete fell from the ceiling again as the hanging lamps swung like pendulums; a nearby shipping container fell near a Skarath card game which scared the hell out of the players. They couldn’t hide in here, they were Grim Fangs! The best mercenaries, bounty hunters, thieves, raiders, and black ops agents the Skarath had hailed from this tribe. Maybe that’s why the other tribes didn’t like them very much Zane thought. Or Sevurak for the matter, Sevurak didn’t hail from the Grim Fang tribe no, he was from the Death Skull tribe, famed for having the largest, strongest warriors of all the tribes, they were ugly too but no one ever said that aloud.

Zane’s thoughts wondered all over the place as he lay on the girder. He had given up struggling a few minutes ago. A figure in black and red robes walked by, Zane recognized what he was immediately, a Void Walker. It’s been a while since Zane saw one of those; he warily thought what one of them was doing here when the War Lord gave a roar demanding attention. The carpet of chitin covered grey, some of which lined the walls, turned to the War Lord who was standing on a decrypt loading crane. “Gius nubtevas, agien ‘Validus’ to vet arrilveret! Jhiar bulhaut veyt maht! Geui vit tei mahhat shuvete!” Sevurak yelled with gusto. The bunker exploded in excitement as Skarath began to arm weapons, sharpen blades, and strap on some more armor. Expect Zane, who was still tied to his girder quite unhappy wouldn’t be joining the next battle. The Skarath, once finished with their preparations began to take cover in case the bunker couldn’t withstand the fury of the strike before their assault. Some even dragged Zane’s girder beneath some makeshift cover. Zane still wished he could move, or better yet outside in order to watch the machines reckoning.

-----  

Major Karen jogged down the street, four other survivors of the ‘Ascending Order’ keeping pace behind her. The rain came down hard, but the soldiers of the U.I.I ignored it as they ran down the street. They neared a street corner when Karen raised her hand signaling them to stop. This section of the city was a complete mess. A nearby shop, a flower shop judging by the flowers in the debris, was completely destroyed as well as a building near it. The street was partially torn up and stained with a large amount of white fluid. Nearby was the corpse of one of the largest machines Karen had ever seen. Its back was torn up and a large spherical power cell lay by it. Also nearby were the crumpled remains of a blade droid. “Sir!” one of the soldiers pointed beyond the metal carcass to an escape pod smashed against the side of a voot.

“Come on, there might be survivors!” the Major ordered before quickly running towards the pod. She reached it first and peered inside; a quick scan by her PAK revealed they were all dead. “No survivors,” Karen sighed, “Grab anything useful and we’ll move on.”

“Wait sir, there’s some supply missing, I think may have survived and just ran off.” One of the soldiers by the name of Lerid said.

“Really? Alright then, pack up on extra supplies and let continue, maybe we’ll find this survivor.”

“What in the name of Irk is that!” another soldier, Meil, yelled while pointing to the sky.

Karen turned and her mouth sat agape. A massive shower of fire balls rained from the sky, all of them varying sizes and shapes. Some disintegrated as they fell and others continued towards the ground near the space port. The first one struck the ground, a giant plume of dust, vaporized mud and fire exploded in the distance. The earth shook and Karen lost her balance as more of heavens fury rained. The Machine force was caught completely off guard; dozens of droids were caught in the impact and were destroyed instantly. Red hot metal and limbs filled the air as well as mud and such. The machine force retreated to cover as best they could to avoid the shower.

Karen and her ‘squad’ took cover in an old apartment as the rain of fire continued. That’s when Karen noticed by something about one particularly large piece of debris fell from the sky. Through the flames of reentry she could barely see the words on it; ‘Ascending Ord-’ was scrawled on its side before it disappeared in the distance in another plume of thrown up dirt and fire. The shockwave from the impact shattered all the glass in the building that wasn’t already broken. The soldiers in the building were utterly shocked that the destruction that rained on them now was their own ship.

-----

Lord Captain Aztrael sat pleasantly on his throne, drinking from a mug of Skarath wine. He watched as several pale green tentacles reached into view of the window and wrapped around large chunk of scrap that was the remains of the Irken ships before throwing it with practiced precision on the bombardment zone highlighted on his map. He could already see a long trail of fiery projectiles as the streaked into the planet’s atmosphere. Aztrael truly loved his worked; even now he could imagine the destruction reeked upon the steel demons by the very ships they destroyed. Perhaps his forces have struck some Irkens too, he thought pleasantly. Nonetheless he loved his job and he calmly reclined on his command throne.