*Fleeting Shadows (Slaughter Arc)

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Kuro
Posts: 141
Joined: 16 Mar 2016, 13:12

*Fleeting Shadows (Slaughter Arc)

Post by Kuro » 01 Jun 2017, 11:58

The gathering of Demons on Epitome was something to behold. All the great houses were gathered. Banners of every size, shape, and color dotted the landscape like Islands on a sea of flesh. Huddled around the banners were the flagbearers as well as the clans mightiest warriors. Demons of all shapes and colors. Strong, quick, wiry , even some adorned in artifacts of the occult were gathering here. Under any other circumstance, a gather of this many houses meant one thing. War. And even now, it was a miracle that fighting did not erupt from the masses. It was because of The Crimson Queen. Her absolute authority forbade those from engaging in that detrimental endeavour. For going against the Queen was certain death. They did not know how she was able to, but it was common knowledge that if you went against the Queen, somehow you were dead within a day.
It was in this gathering that Elphlane Draota was waiting. Her Amber Eyes and sleek black hair tied into a topknot waited. Adorned in Crimson battle plate she had conjured and a great red spear she waited under the Banner of Shadows. A black and purple banner that seemed to absorb the very light around it. It was an interesting article, the same as her tiara she wore. The black metal that she seemed so comfortable with. A crown fit for a Demon Queen, and even tho she was only the Matriarch of a small Clan, She would rise one day. She knew it.
At dusk, the demonic transport ships arrived. The supply Ships known as Fleshknitters and the assault Transported that were called BoneSpurs arrived. The bonespurs looked like nothing other than giant bone-armored shells, that within housed cavernous rooms for the assault troops. The forward armor being triple thick and it seemed like they would be able to just punch through any sort of defense against them. The fleshknitters seemed the exact opposite. Delicate, yet patchwork ships that looked as if they had been pieced together from ten thousand corpses. Each Stitch holding another patchwork piece in place.
There, the clans boarded, clan by clan. A solemn and silent affair that seemed to defy the logic of the horde. It wasn’t until the moon was high and the shadows long that the House of Shadows entered the ships. Her small attachment of a meager five-hundred demons was miniscule at best, when other more dominant clans brought multiple thousands with them, some even, their own crafts. Each house colors bearing large crimson band across the middle. A sign of allegiance to The Crimson Queen.
It was then the great demon horde left epitome, and began their crawl to the rally point deep in space.
She took pride in her clan. Took pride in her warriors as they were placed on one of the smaller fleshknitter crafts. A lowly clan such as hers would not be given the honor of being on the ground assault. No, they were meant to stay back and fight for scraps. That would not suffice. Even now she had plans to make it to the surface. She would not be undone in the fight to come.
The voyage through the Aether was eventless and quick. The ships sliding silently and smoothly in the blue energy wisps that surround the ships. But after the meeting all hell broke loose.
She was frustrated every morning by reports of equipment failure. Aether drives mangled. Not only on her ship, but other as well. The first morning reported 3 fleshknitters and a bonespur reporting engine failures, delaying the convoy an entire day fixing the engines. After each night the same. Multiple ships reporting failures in critical areas. She herself went out many times to patrol the halls but saw nothing but shadows. Strangely enough, to her, on these patrols she could have sworn the shadows were moving. Playing tricks on her. Every noise she rushed to and every time it was to no avail. An empty corridor or room. But it seemed as soon as she lay her head to rest she was awoken, only to find mass sabotage of the fleet. As if whoever was behind this knew the second she put her guard down.
Another morning and another meeting between the clans and the Queen. Another plan to catch whoever was doing this. Each head also had to go through a headache of an interrogation with her. Each one feared due to her powers and abilities. After what seemed like days of being locked into a single room with her and every memory plucked through was she released. But not all of them. Those clan heads that had plans to rebel mid battle and kill the queen themselves had perished, their spiked bodies as battle standards on the bow of the Flagship. A monstrous craft that could most likely go toe to toe with The Requiem at full power.
The consensus was for roving patrols at all times, putting the fleets demonic invaders on at least 40% security at all times. The two day travel already taking a week was taxing their spirits, their supplies, and their bodies. Fatigue and irritability were spreading through the ranks as they still only managed to catch shadowy glimpses of these creatures. Even the Queen herself roamed with a few patrols, chasing after the fleeting images, tracking them with her phonics, and turning the corner only to find it empty. The only thing there would be the shadows, flickering in the demonic glow of the Interior lights.
Time and fatigue was all that was needed before the demos started fighting themselves
Fights were starting to break out between the clans, and infighting at the incompetent leadership. Many captains were replaced, many more grunts killed or jettisoned into space itself. But finally their crawl had them arrive at their destination.
One week 3 days and 13 hours the arrived from their expected time. It wasn't a pristine fresh swarm of demons that was expected no
The fleet itself was a chaotic mess. Their crewmembers tired from chasing the fleeting shades. Their supplies dwindled from their long and slow travels. Their leader furious from the incidents. Whatever happened on this fleet turned them from an orderly hive swarm of demons into a chaotic mess, hungry, angry, and tired.
On the arrival of the swarms a flickering shadow hit the surface of the Sanctum. A small cat sized dragon, it's energy suppressed searching for a crew-member of The Platinum Dream. In its jaws was a list of high value targets, fleet layout, captains, personalities and over battle strength and troop numbers of the demonic swarm.above them. No longer were they going to be able to orbitally strike their targets from above and test defenses, no, it will be a full on all or nothing assault.
Hopefully, with the extra time given, the defenders of the Sanctum had gotten together a plan...Elphlane on the other hand, was on the bridge of the ship, her troops waiting in the cargo bays below. She was itching to escape. Itching to get to the planet below and show those “greater houses” what her small band could do.

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