Aboard the bridge of the small imperial shuttle, Spirit of Truth, Thal looked out over the vastness of space. The multitudes of far off stars and planets was an overwhelming sight. Their beauty was truly a divine work of god. As he watched the stars, Thal's head was racked with questions.

"Who were they? What was their goal? Were they a threat to the Empire? Why did they attack him? Were any other Templars at risk?"

His body began to shiver with fear, those men were like nothing he had seen before. Tall, imposing troopers, armor blacker then the void of space, weapons far more advanced then anything he had seen. He was on Myyhera III when they first struck, aboard P.I.E's battlestation. They were after him, and only him, and he was going to find out why. He had been given a leave from active duty to find his assailants, a small shuttle, and a team of Kameira soldiers. Though Thal insisted on flying alone, his commanding officers had thought otherwise. He looked down at his pilot, Palo, a skilled marksmen and tactician. To his left, on the navigators seat sat Dashon, a massive man by mortal standards capable of massive feats of strength, though nothing compared to an immortal. To the right of the pilots chair was Daka, a medical master. These were the troops entrusted to him, and he feared for them. The attackers were monstrous and ruthless beasts, attacking with speed, power, and intelligence. They last met the attackers in the Bleak Lands, where Thal's cybernetic arm was heavily damaged and he lost one of his commandos. However, there was a good thing to come out of the attack. Thal had killed one of the monsters, useing his custom built Nova-sword to behead one of the creatures. He refused to think of the assailants as human.

A massive space station appeared in the viewscreen. He had been summoned there by some unknown message, saying that survivors must gather there. He thought to himself

"Trap"

But had a gut feeling, and after nearly one hundred years a soldier, Thal knew to trust his gut. Palo turned around and said,

"Miles Vadam sir, we have docking clearance for bay two-seven"

"Bring us in soldier"

Thal turned to the crew

"You know the plan, fan out, find other immortals, stay hidden. We're in civilian garb for a reason."

As they approached the station, Thal packed up his weapons. A prototype SMG he called Flame Spitter , a prototype scrambler rifle designed to fold up as to be concealed, and his precious Nova-sword.

The ship docked in the bay and Thal led the crew out. He turned to them and said

"Walk in the shadows my brothers, may god go with you"

And with that, Thal pulled his hood over his face and pulled up a small cloth mask to cover his face. He and his men disappeared into the crowd. As he moved around like a snake, Thal pressed a button on his cybernetic arm, a signal was put out from Thal's communicator. The message said, "The Falcons have landed."

Crownrule was still sitting on the dropship when it began its approach toward the surface, he had been waiting to land ever since he was on that cursed station. He looked out the blast shield doors and saw another dropship, but it was different from the rest it looked out of the norm. But once he landed he forgot about it, he was just excited to see That again. After a year apart, crownrule had remained in the same clone body miracoulsy but it came st a cost. His left eye was blind and his handsome face lost complexion and was filled with scars from the battles he had fought in, he had survived the matari onslaught back on the bleak lands that killed thousands of templars alike, that was there that he had lost everything. He lost his sanity there that day, he watched as templars left and right were murdered while he lay down slowly bleeding to death. He was able to stop the bleeding but was soon pinned by a destroyed dropship which nearly made him lose his legs. He laid there for nine days without any food or eater. After the ninth day he finally broke and began to laugh hysterically, it wasn't long before he was found by the enemy and taken captive where he spent the next two months in a matari mud pit. They would let him stand there in thick mud all the way to his chest and Bob his head back and forth into the mud. The templars had come back to reclaim the station and were successful, it was then that he was rescued and reevaluated and deemed worthy enough of service and was granted leave. He had now landed where Thal was believed to be and he sought out to find him. Crownrule scratched his beard and began to walk toward thepub when he saw a commotion. He raced ahead of the crowd and saw the man before him, he recognized that blade.

"That?." Crownrule asked loudly looking up at Thal. Crown rule felt his jacket begin to chafe and his boots became tighter.

"Is it really you?" Crownrule asks.

Vyzion left Junko with Thal and turned back to the wreckage he had caused. He shook is head in disgust. And I thought I was good at this... obviously I have more practice to do if we get out of this alive.

A glint of light caught his eye from the collapsed part of the pub, though. Ignoring the others who were gathering around the dropship, he ran over and saw an armoured arm sticking out from under the Grimsnes. Immediately he bent down, heaved the rubble out of the way and found an Amarrian Templar, more or less crushed by the dropship, his vulnerable body prevented from being pancaked only due to the integrity of the dropsuit he wore.

Vyzion whipped out his repair tool and immediately began repairing the dropsuit the Templar wore. As the nanites reconstructed the crushed dropsuit, the collapsed chest plates expanded, and slowly pushed the dropship up, and immediately Vyzion could hear the man's breathing resume.

As it was repairing, Vyzion turned around and called to the others:

"I hope someone lifts here because we have a dropship we have to move off this poor guy. I've repaired his dropsuit but those internal wounds are going to need a little more than that."

soldiers, pilots, immortals, my name is Issac V'aan Kador, captain of the mastodon- class ship Se'terra, its previous owner is Hya'salia herself, absurd as it may seem. My ship is currently 12 or so stargates from your current position, and we are having some trouble avoiding your spacefaring kin.

I'm afraid I must get to the point, the numbers of these assailants has reached over 3 battalions worth of men. Their contacts and their resources are seemingly unlimited according to various contacts in our inner circle, your options are thus limited.
For now I need you all to keep moving, either by flight or by ground, it matters little. I have requisitioned a few dropships, both Myron and Grimsnes class alike not far from your positions, upper dockyard levels 4-D9 I believe that is where mac's infamous railroad operations have led up to.

Stay alive as long as you can, I will do everything in my power to make sure your extraction is successful"

"Alright, we have a little time as we get through this tunnel," Vyzion piped up. "Lets start with some names."

He cleared his throat. "I'm Vyzion. I enjoy dropship piloting, and as you can see from my repair tool here I do a bit of logistics on the field. That's... about it."

Crownrule watches in horror as he sees Jonny brutally beaten and the fact no one will stand up and help him in his time of need. Crownrule picks up his sword and he looks at everyone.

"We can'tleave jJonny damn it! A warriors death or not, he shouldn't have to succumb to such violence without a chance and I'll give him that, who's with me?" Crownrule asks looking around at thal, vyzion and raven.

"Let's get back at these bastards....but we need to be smart about this." Crownrule replies as they continue walking, he fingers his swords grip and can feel the power on his fingertips.