FANFICTION WRITING The Lexicon Obscura

Havoccultist

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The War in Cacnter

"They came with the dawn! Carried aloft on beams of silver and temples a shining gold, the fury of their weapons set flame to sky and sea alike! All the while those who claimed to be our betters looked on, unwilling and unable to face the devastation their hubris had wrought upon our beloved Wrken, glittering heart of Cacnter! Lament therefore, our young, for their folly hath brought doom upon us all!"
– An Ode to Wrken

The threats had been quite foolish, everyone who was anyone back home had said so. Experts in xeno-psychology the world over had informed our kings and queens that they were signing the death warrant of our entire species, and even went so far as to strike in protest of the decision for months on end. In spite of this overwhelming backlash, however, the decision was pushed through, and precisely five solar cycles later we found ourselves at war with the inhabitants of Sol-3 just as our best and brightest had predicted. Things had gone well at first. Our swarms managed to lock down a great deal of the Scutum-Centaurus Arm, pushing the humans occupying the systems there back and destroying many of their orbital and planetside installations in the process. Following that we penetrated the core worlds, establishing ourselves in the Norma and Near 3kpc Arms as we made for our ultimate prize, the Orion Spur.

It was only after we arrived that the tables finally turned and we truly realized the severity of our sovereigns error. Our ships, though numerous enough to blot out the very stars themselves, were exceedingly slow. For of our flesh they were made, and by our flesh they are constrained. We need not fear the vast voids of space nor the ages it takes to travel, for we may weather both without harm. But the humans… they traveled in craft made of metal, cold and sharp. Fielded ships whose hearts could warp the very fabric of the cosmos itself, turning it inside out to the point where the universe forgot its own rules, and wielded weapons capable of shattering entire worlds.

All of our victories, everything we'd accomplished during the opening years of the war… it had all been for naught. The humans had pulled back intentionally, letting us gain ground as their demons picked apart our strategies and their fleets moved to cut off every hope of escape. Thankfully I'd been reassigned to the homeworld several cycles prior, else I would have perished along with the rest. My exoskeleton fried to a crisp and cast adrift in the infinite vacuum of space like so many others. Yet even now I am not safe. I can hear them marching above, setting fire to our cities as they search for our young – killing everyone and everything that dares to stand in their way.

The burrows I once found so comforting and safe have since become unbearably cramped, feeling for all the world like a tomb more than anything else. It is only the wriggling of the grubs–my brothers and sisters to be–which keeps my mind focused on the task ahead and my senses sharp, although it is but a little comfort. They will descend soon, this much I know. Even so I do not waver. Do not flinch. Fear threatens to overtake me and I tamp it down, beat it into submission just as the elders taught me to. Claws tightening around my weapon in an almost subconscious manner, I tested the air ahead with my feelers and the vibrations rumbling through the earth beneath my feet, since there was too little light down here for sight to be effective. The humans had made it into the hatching chambers at last, and they were heading my way.

Emitting a low chitter, I lifted my gun and trained it on the unyielding darkness before me.

A moment later the flash came and I felt no more.

I-X-I

"Upper Echelon to MJOLNIR Unit #77, Unit #77 please respond."

Wiping the remnants of chitin and hemolymph off her matte-black armor, MJOLNIR Unit seventy-seven surveyed the bombed and pockmarked surface of Wrken from behind the reinforced glass of her helmet before moving to reply.

"Unit #77 copies all Upper Echelon. Sector three is secure, all targets have been eliminated."

"Copy Unit #77. Advance to sectors four and five and provide support to friendly elements in the area."

"Copy Upper Echelon, orders confirmed. Unit #77 out."

Hoisting the massive bulk of titanium that was her plasma cannon over her shoulder, Unit #77 began picking her way through the barren wasteland as more ships slipped into orbit overhead, their weapons sending streaks of fire hurtling towards the surface. Humanity had not sought this war, but they would be its end, for such was the way of things.

(Author's Note: This was heavily inspired by and based upon the Marathon series created by Bungie.)
 
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