Exitium [Doom 4 & Mass Effect]

[Desvenlafaxine]

As humanity stands on the brink of total extinction, Samuel Hayden, Director of the Unified Argent Corporation, enacts a desperate last-ditch plan to ensure mankind's survival.

In another time, and in other place, a turian patrol ship encounters a mass relay unlike any other. The peoples of Citadel space and the Terminus have no idea that beyond it lies one thing:

Doom.
​

This story began on Spacebattles, and at the original time of writing this introductory post has ~100K words. Chapters will be collated and posted in groups over the coming days until the story reaches parity.

Exitium is a crossover between the "Fluoxetine" Mass Effect universe shared between (at this time) Parallel Processing, Exitium and Parallel Processing. Certain characters are older; in this case Saren and Nihlus have been aged up in order to appear earlier within the timeline.

Content Warnings: This is a DOOM 2016 story, which means that there will be ripping, tearing, and a fair bit of violence.

Update Priority: Currently in flux due to stories being rehosted here as well as on SB. Thank you for your patience!

​

 

[Desvenlafaxine]

June 9th, 2207
Unified Argent Corporation - Mars Facility
Estimated human population: 103

Samuel Hayden sighed.

He'd specifically ensured that his office would be spared from the demonic invasion alarms which had been blaring throughout the entire facility for the past two weeks, and yet he could hear them ringing - even through the blast doors separating him from the rest of the sprawling complex.

He sighed again as his desk lit up with an incoming call. He looked at the detonator built into his chassis, then at the shutters which had sealed away the view of Mars days before.

He took the call.

"Director Hayden, I'm sorry, we can't hold o-" a voice shouted, interrupted by a long pop-pop-pop burst of plasma-gunfire. "Can't hold out any longer!"

"That is acceptable," he replied.

"We'll delay the demons for as long as we can, Dire - squad, archviles, left side! Sir, it's now or never! Ortega out!"

He knew that his (probably ex) Chief of Security was right. Part of him indulged in the fantasy of calling him back, and he knew he would certainly have no trouble eradicating the hellspawn which had pushed humanity to extinction. But it would be a pointless victory - yes, he would live, but humanity would gain nothing. Humanity had already lost.

This round, at least.

He chuckled to himself, and looked at the dimensional-tether device sitting in the corner of his office, and walked over to it.

"I don't know if you can hear me. I doubt it. But, with things having gotten this...out of hand, I'll permit myself the indulgence," Samuel said. "I suppose, if you were to look at all this, you would believe yourself to have been proven correct. Because, for all your martial skill, you were always short-sighted. Never could see the bigger picture." He stepped into the device, called up a portal that would deposit him into the hidden room behind the tether device; moments later, he was deposited into a small chamber containing a stone column, four feet high and bearing an indentation. Samuel pulled the Crucible out of a compartment in his chassis, and activated it, watching as the blood-red blade flared to life out of the artifact's hilt. He slid it blade-down into the column and laughed as the room's walls lit up with endless rows of neon-blue synthetic rune-patterns.

If Samuel Hayden could have smiled, he would have.

He activated the detonator and laughed as the room folded in on itself, reality itself ripping apart as the concentrated blast of refined Argent energy began to work, corrupting time and space - for humanity's benefit.

Yes, Samuel thought as his chassis began to flicker out of existence. This time, we will not simply steal from Hell, like petty thieves in the night. No, we shall conquer it like gods, as you never could, warrior.

-------------------------------x-------------------------------


Yours is the shield that guards us from sin.
Yours is the blade that cuts down the enemy.
Yours is the name that seals my wounds.
Yours is the visage that grants me strength.

When I am faced with Hell, I beseech thee:
Grant me but a mote of your anger,
Grant me but a fraction of your hate,
Grant me but an inkling of your rage.

For you are the HELLWALKER,
the FIRST SENTINEL,
the UNCHAINED PREDATOR.
And above all, you are the DOOM SLAYER.

AMEN.



The First Prayer of The Slayer's Gospel

-------------------------------x-------------------------------​

10th of the Third Umbral Wind, Year 1157 of the Twenty-Sixth Age
(June 9th, 2157 Council Era)


Councillors Tevos and Valern arrived at the same time, and both nodded at Tevos as they sat down across from Sparatus.

"So? What's the emergency?" Tevos asked, yawning. "Last I checked, the Council doesn't meet at three in the morning to celebrate."

"This," Fallox Sparatus said, pulling up a galaxy map and zooming in, "is System 314. Uninhabited system with only one other planet nearby, and the mass relay here is dormant. That was until a few hours ago. I was informed a few hours ago that one of our routine border patrols picked up something - this is footage sent from the patrol ship."

The hologram shifted, and both Tevos and Valern flinched.

It was a mass relay - that was undeniable - but its body, which should have been a metallic blue, was grey and covered in pulsing, fleshy tendrils which emanated from its core. What should have been the calm, soft, blue centre of the relay was an angry blood-red fire which beat like the heart of some great beast, and every so often the core would project a spherical array of strange runes around the relay.

"Goddess," Councilor Herane Tevos whispered, leaning back in her chair. "I've never even heard of a mass relay...malfunctioning, for a better word." She studied the hologram in the centre of the conference table intently, her mind racing for something, anything she'd read or heard in her lifetime that would lend sense to what she was seeing; the very sight of those unnatural runes made her skin crawl.

"Do we know that it's malfunctioning?" Saral Valern asked, his voice unusually uncomfortable. "Believe me, nothing in our files mentions anything like this - but it's not as though we are aware of how the mass relays function on a fundamental level."

"I was hoping one of you could answer that question," Sparatus said, shaking his head. "Captain Cantus Lucidas of the Stalwart - the ship which found the relay - says in his report that he and his crew considered sending a probe through to see what would happen, but decided to wait until higher authorities considered the matter."

"We'll have to contain this information for now," Valern noted, "while we put together some sort of response. The last thing we need is a panicked civilian response when we ourselves don't even know what's going on."

"I've already had my aides begin putting together Citadel Fleet elements to shore up security in the area," Sparatus replied, "but we'll also need researchers, scientists, experts and the like. Can we do that - quickly - without causing a panic?"

"I'll work on it. For the moment, I think it's fair to say that security and safety are our primary concerns," Tevos said, "and I guarantee we can put together a list of cleared individuals for a small science team rather quickly."

"Alright. Let's get to work then," Valern said. "I can arrange to have a list of individuals ready in the next hour or so - let me send a quick message to my secretary. I suppose we ought to start drafting a press release just in case this news leaks to the public somehow."

Sparatus nodded, sighing, and braced himself for a long day.

 

[Desvenlafaxine]

15th of the Third Umbral Wind, Year 1157 of the Twenty-Sixth Age
(June 14th, 2157 Council Era)

-------------------------------x-------------------------------


It is six in the morning, on the thirteenth of the second umbral waters. Loyal warriors, scholars and children of humanity, awaken, and prepare for your morning rites. Today's reading is from The Book of the Hellwalker, chapter two, verse six:

"Despite their courage and their tenacity, the Young Sentinels found themselves pushed by the hellspawn to the outer gates of New Corrax, and they began to despair - for if their dwindling numbers were to fall, Hell itself would bring slaughter and blood upon the city. It is recorded, then, that as the last three dozen of the Young Sentinels prepared one last, holy stand, the skies split and the hosts of Hell itself cried out in terror, and from the skies HE emerged from a hell-portal, ever-clad in the PRAETOR and carrying an instrument of judgement in each hand. In HIS left hand, he carried Flesh-Ripper, the chainsaw-blade of purity; in HIS right, he carried Bone-Tearer, the holy double-barreled shotgun."

"The DOOM SLAYER tore himself from this portal and fell to the grounds, and it is known that the forces of Hell cried out in terror, sputtering curses and begging for mercy. But this only infuriated the DOOM SLAYER, for the very concept of mercy upon Hell was impossible to even comprehend. That day, New Corrax did not fall, for the Young Sentinels were reminded of their duty, and they followed the DOOM SLAYER into glorious, holy, carnage. They killed demon and hellspawn and heretic for many days, and on the dawn of the fifth day after HIS arrival they stood atop a mountain of corpses and an ocean of blood."

Loyal humans, do not forget your sacred duty. Do not hesitate in your daily work, and do not falter as the Young Sentinels did in that early age. Know that you represent the holy and the righteous, and that it is better to die standing than to fear like a coward.

Now, loyal humans, join me in the first recital of the day: yours is the shield that guards us from sin...

-------------------------------x-------------------------------​

Saren Arterius snapped awake in his bunk, and pulled his clock up in his HUD as he swung out of bed. Not good, Saren thought, as the readout noted it was oh-six-oh-five. Slept in five minutes. Getting rusty. He grumbled to himself as he put his armour back on, and made his way out of the small private room and into the corridors of the Stalwart; a minute later, he entered the ship's bridge and walked over to Captain Lucidus.

"Spectre Arterius," Cantus said with a small nod, glancing away from his command console. "You're up early."

"I didn't want to miss any of the day's work, Captain."

"Hmm. You know, there isn't any work to be done quite yet," Cantus replied with a smile. "Not until the research teams finish their little test."

"Which they will be doing today, correct?"

"Yes, they will - it's scheduled to start in about an hour, Spectre Arterius. I'm assured by the science teams that they've cracked whatever it is that's blocked our previous attempts at using the relay."

"I apologize if I came off as...brusque," Saren said, looking out of the cockpit at the seemingly-infested relay. "That...thing, out there. It makes my carapace itchy just looking at it, and there's a small part of me that keeps saying we ought to just leave the damned thing alone."

"Ignoring the relay won't make it go away."

"I know that, Captain," Saren replied, sighing.

"You're not the only one with doubts - but I wouldn't worry. You get used to it after a while," Cantus said, shrugging. "I'm not saying it isn't unbelievably disturbing, mind you, just that after a while you kind of forget how gross it is."

"That doesn't make me feel any better. If anything, it makes me even more ill-at-ease," Saren grumbled. He stood in silence for the next while, unable to tear his eyes away from the fleshy, pulsing tendrils which covered the mass relay. They pulsed in time with the blood-red heart of the relay, sigils and runes flashing brightly in the black of space-

"-Spectre Arterius? Saren?" Saren snapped away from the mass relay to find Captain Lucidus looking at him with a concerned expression. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes - just lost in my thoughts."

"Well, the test is about to start, if you'd like to observe."

Saren nodded and leaned up against a nearby section of hull; the ship's speakers flared as a message came through.

"Citadel Fleet Cruiser Stalwart, this is Research Vessel Silverthread," an asari voice said. "We're about to launch the probe."

"Silverthread," Captain Lucidus replied, "this is Stalwart. Our signals teams are standing by."

"Understood. Test probe number six, launching in three, two, one, launched."

Saren watched as one of the vessels to the right of the Stalwart fired a small pod, little more than an engine and thrusters wrapped in a metal casing, towards the mass relay. It streaked towards its target, and as it neared the relay flickering tendrils of red and brown licked out of the relay core and wrapped around the pod.

"Test probe interfacing with the relay, stand by - goddess," the asari shouted, "it's working!"

The relay flashed a bright neon-red and for a moment Saren swore he could see a rip in space appear in front of the pod; seconds later, the pod winked out of sight, and a white shockwave burst out of the relay.

"BRACE POSITIONS!" Captain Lucidus shouted, and Saren clenched his teeth as he mag-clamped himself to a nearby handhold. The wave passed through the ship with a shuddering groan, and Saren felt an overwhelming sense of dread puncture his calm for a split second. The feeling passed, though, and he looked around.

"Report," Cantus said.

"We're all in the clear," one of the bridge crew said. "Whatever the wave did, it was - spirits, look at the relay!"

Saren looked up and had to remember to close his mouth as he saw the mass relay - the tendrils and fiery-red core were gone, and in their place was the natural metallic-blue body and a glowing green core. The projected runes, too, were different; they no longer flashed, and instead shone solid.

"Green?" Lucidus asked, tone cautious. "Are mass relays supposed to be green?"

"No, but they're not supposed to be on fire and covered in tentacles either," Saren said slowly.

"Hmph. Is that humour I detect?" Lucidus asked, before turning on his comm unit. "Silverthread, status report." He waited for a few moments, then frowned. "Silverthread, status report."

"No response, Captain," one of the bridge crew said nervously. "They're not broadcasting an emergency signal - maybe the shockwave damaged their comms?"

"We're fine. Doesn't make any sense," Lucidus muttered under his breath. "Keep trying to raise them," he said, before activating the shipwide comm. "Away team one, stand by for possible intel-rescue mission."

"Rescue?" Saren asked.

"Plan for the worst, right? You wanted work, and now you have it," Cantus said, staring at the relay.

Saren grunted in response and jogged back to his quarters. He pulled open his weapons locker and clamped his trusty shotgun and assault rifle to his back, then stuffed his chest rig with shock grenades and flashbangs; after a quick weapons check he sealed his lockers, put on his helmet and made his way into the Stalwart's hangar. The hangar was unusually crowded, with engineers prepping shuttles and marines forming up in staging areas. He walked over to the shuttle closest to the airlock loading bay, where a dozen marines in full combat gear were checking each other's equipment. They glanced up as Saren approached, and one walked over to him.

"Spectre Arterius," the marine said, standing at attention. "Thanks for the assist."

"You can thank me if I actually end up assisting you," Saren noted, offering his arm. They clasped arms, and Saren nodded. "Name and rank?"

"Sergeant Plitus Merinian, Spectre."

"Any experience with boarding action?"

"My squad's done several tours dedicated to anti-pirate operations, Spectre. More breach-and-clears than I can count."

"Excellent. Let's get loaded up and prepare for launch." Saren followed Sergeant Merinian onto the shuttle with the rest of the marines and buckled himself in as the shuttle's pilot began the pre-flight checks.

"Hey," one of the marines said, looking at Saren, "you're a Spectre, right? We expectin' trouble?"

"I'm just here in case anything happens, marine."

"Brass talk for shit's going down!" another said, laughing as he mimed firing a rifle. "Been cooped up on this damn ship for weeks. Be nice to shoot at something."

"Stow it, Albinus," Sergeant Merinian said, sighing. "Alright. This is supposed to be a simple check-up - Silverthread's gone dark after that shockwave and we're here to figure out why. If anything this is search and rescue, not a varren hunt. Last thing I need is the Captain ripping me a new one because one of you idiots shot a civ. Clear?"

"Yes, Sergeant!" the marines barked back.

"Alright. Ship's a standard three-decker and you've got the maps, folks. Stay cool and we'll be fine. Pilot, we good to go?" Plitus shouted towards the cockpit.

"Yessir, just got cleared for launch. Stand by. Launch Control, this is SM-one-twenty, requesting transfer to launch bay...understood," the pilot said. "Buckle in, folks, we're off."

The shuttle rumbled as the rear hatch sealed and the ship was transferred into the airlock; Saren craned his head and watched as the shuttle left the Stalwart. The other ships in the convoy were now moving away from the Silverthread, a research vessel of asari make and styling. By the time the shuttle arrived at the sealed landing bay of the Silverthread the fleet had assumed a loose spherical formation around the now-dark science ship.

"Lights are out," the pilot said, "but we'll try anyways. Silverthread, this is Stalwart shuttle M-one-two-zero, requesting you open your landing bay and grant docking permission." The pilot waited for several moments, and frowned as there was no response. "Silverthread, this is Stalwartshuttle M-one-two-zero, requesting your open your landing bay and grant docking permission."

"Don't think they're going to respond," Saren said.

"Alright, plan B," the pilot muttered. "Silverthread, you have another minute to respond to our request. After that this shuttle will breach the landing bay doors using an entry charge. Any personnel in the hangar are advised to stay well clear of the landing bay."

The minute passed in silence.

"Silverthread, we have received no response and will now proceed to breach the landing bay doors. Final warning to anyone inside that hangar - stay way from the doors."

The shuttle moved up towards the landing bay doors and rumbled as its underbelly opened; a manipulator extended from beneath the cockpit and planted a gunmetal-grey pyramid on the landing bay doors, flat-side down.

"Charge is set," the pilot said. "Here we go - detonating in three, two, one, breach." The pyramid's tip lit up for a split second before exploding inwards in a white-hot flash; the shuttle rammed through the weakened section of hull immediately afterwards and spun as it screeched through the landing bay doors, the rear hatch slamming into the hangar floor. "We're clear, move!"

Saren and the marines all unbuckled themselves and sprinted out of the shuttle, weapons at a low-ready, and fanned out into the hangar - which was, as far as Saren could tell, entirely empty and running on emergency lighting.

"Clear right!"

"Clear left!"

"Clear!" Sergeant Merinian looked over at Saren, and then scanned the dimly-lit hangar again. "No crew."

"Perhaps," Saren noted, moving over to one of the Silverthread's shuttles, "they got the message about the breach." He looked inside, found it empty, and shrugged as he moved onto the next shuttle.

A throughout sweep of the hangar revealed nothing, and the group stacked up by the main door out of the hangar as Sergeant Merinian gestured to one of the marines. "Lavus, terminal."

"On it, sarge." The marine jogged over to a nearby maintenance terminal, and his omnitool lit up; Lavus looked over his shoulder a few moments later and shook his head. "Shockwave must have screwed with the network or something - I'm locked into the hangar network and getting nothing but error messages."

"Damn. Alright, back here. Saren?" Plitus asked.

"I'll take point," Saren said, hitting the manual door release. The hatch hissed open, and Saren sliced the doorway, moving into the corridor beyond with his shotgun raised. The marines followed closely behind, and they stopped at the lone room between the hangar and the elevator - a small door marked as storage. Saren once again led the way, and looked around the room, which was full of crates, lockers and racks of various scientific equipment. He paused, crouching over a small collection of spilled drink canisters and half-eaten snacks which were on the floor. "Odd," he said aloud, standing back up.

"What, a bunch of the crew just...decided to drop their food on the floor?" Lavus asked.

"Hey," Albinus said, "if the Stalwart got all fucked up by a relay going haywire I'd probably drop my food too."

"Everyone, all at once, though?" Saren noted. "And that still doesn't explain where all the crew are. Let's keep moving."

The marines followed Saren out of the room and into the main elevator; Saren hit the button for the second deck, and frowned as an error message flashed on the terminal.

"Error," a synthesized voice said. "Research deck remains in lockdown due to hazardous condition: fuel leak, coolant leak, life support failure. Deck lockdown will be lifted upon all-clear from bridge."

"Fuel leak?" one of the marines said nervously. "Spirits, sarge, nobody said anything about a fuel leak."

"Well, we'd better get to the bridge and figure out what the hell's going on then," Plitus said, nodding at Saren.

Thankfully, the elevator controls had no issue with bringing the boarding party to the top deck, and Sergeant Merinian looked at his rifle as the doors closed. "So. Fuel leak. You know the drill, folks - low-yield concs, omni-batons. Getting cooked or spaced isn't on my agenda."

The marines all grumbled as they activated their rifles' concussive shot modes and activated their omnitools; several tested flash-fabricating blunt batons from their omnitools. Saren, on the other hand, simply unholstered his shotgun and let his biotics flare to life around him. Several of the marines flinched or tried to step away.

"Shit, you're a biotic?" Lavus asked.

"Is that a problem?"

"No," the marine replied in a tone that was entirely unconvincing. Saren snorted a laugh in response, took a deep breath, and twirled his knife around as the elevator ascended. A few moments later, the doors opened.

The corridor outside was full of corpses; some were so badly mutilated that it was hard to tell what species they originally were. The bodies had been shoved to the sides of the corridor and stacked to the ceiling, forming a a tunnel of meat leading to the next door. Saren slowly glanced up, not moving out of the elevator, and shuddered as he noticed the thick smears of blood dripping from the ceiling, and strange symbols that resembled the mass relay's runes drawn on exposed inch of wall using a mixture of crushed organs and viscera. The floor itself was barely visible beneath an ankle-high pool of grey-blue blood, which was now seeping into the elevator.

Saren pushed his disgust into the back of his mind and continued into the corridor, his boots squelching as they hit the floor, and he paused as he heard something - a mumbling, gasping groan. He spun to the side to find that, half-buried into the pile of bodies, someone's head was sticking out. It was a quarian, he realized, who appeared to have been torn out of his suit; the quarian's eyes were barely open.

"Please," the quarian managed to groan.

"What in the hell happened here?" Saren asked. The quarian simply shut his eyes, and Saren knelt down to pull the quarian out the pile of bodies. There was a squelch and a crunching noise, and Saren watched in horror as the quarian came free - missing the entire lower half of his naked body, his torso covered in massive gashes. "How - how the fuck are you still alive?"

"Please."

"Answers, now," Saren growled. "Answer me, damn you!"

The quarian closed his eyes, mouth opening and closing as he gasped for air.

Saren slit the quarian's throat and dumped his corpse into the ever-growing pool of blood on the floor, then stood back up to walk over to the security hatch. He looked back at the marines, all of whom were still in the elevator. "You guys gonna sit in that elevator all day, or are you coming with me?"

The marines followed behind Saren as he opened the hatch; the group was greeted with a similar sight as they entered the next corridor: bodies everywhere and more of those strange symbols painted on every exposed surface. They cleared several crew cabins, a lounge, and a small kitchen, all in the same state of horrifying chaos - but no other survivors. At last, they arrived at the door to the bridge, and with a deep breath Saren led the way through.

It was as though Saren had stepped into hell itself: the remaining crew, about two dozen, were all naked and gathered together in the CIC, and a small pile of bodies had been heaped onto the main holo-board. The crew were busy chanting in a tongue his translator didn't know, painting those horrid symbols on walls and mutilating themselves with kitchen knives, scalpels and various other sharp implements; the crew were so consumed in their work that they failed to notice Saren and the marines taking up firing positions.

"What in the actual fuck," one of the marines whispered.

"We're here to rescue these people? We should kill 'em all," Lavus hissed.

"Nonlethals only," Sergeant Merinian said. "Saren, you have the honours."

Saren shouldered his shotgun, and let off a burst of concussive shots; three of the crew were knocked to the ground, and Saren's eyes widened in disbelief as they simply got back up and screamed so loudly that his helmet's aural dampeners kicked in. The entire crew, as if posessed, all turned, screamed together, and rushed towards the firing line.

"Fire at will," Saren said, letting the familiar rush of battle soothe his nerves. The group opened fire, launching barrage after barrage of concussive blasts, yet the crew kept getting back up when anyone sane and not a krogan would have stopped from the pain.

"Medium yields," Plitus shouted, "and go for the legs!"

The marines all began firing concussive shots that were far louder, the bridge filling with the crack-thoom of their fire. The attacking crew were no longer being knocked to the ground; instead, they were being flung backwards into the walls with bone-crunching force. Still, they continued to rise, sprinting back towards the marines even as their twisted and shattered limbs gave out under them. Saren grit his teeth, set his shotgun's concussive force to lethal, and opened fire - and took a step back as an asari crewmember's head exploded and yet -

"She's still alive?" he shouted in horror, as the headless asari corpse continued to sprint at him. Focus, he thought, firing another shot at her legs; the asari's body from the waist down crumped from the blast's force, and even still the body continued to claw its way along the floor with its hands.

"What the FUCK IS GOING ON? Nobody said we were fighting the undead!" one of the marines screamed, turning to run to the elevator with another marine close behind.

"HOLD THE LINE," Saren barked. "LETHAL CONCS! DISMEMBER THE LEGS FIRST AND DON'T STOP SHOOTING UNTIL THEY STOP MOVING!"

The battle raged on for what felt like an eternity, and when the last of the crew was little more than a twitching pile of paste smeared across the bridge's walls, Saren let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Clear," Plitus said in a shaky voice. "Sound off."

Eight of the marines checked in, breathing heavily; four didn't respond, and Saren looked back to find one marine on the ground by the elevator rocking back in forth on the ground, and two standing ramrod-still, unmoving.

"Tanis! Druso! Wake the fuck up!" Plitus said, shaking both marines. One of them shook his head and looked around at the carnage before him, stammering incoherently, when the other screamed and raised his shotgun, firing a concussive shot that blasted Sergeant Merinian into the wall.

"Stay back! STAY BACK! DON'T TOUCH ME!" Druso shouted, waving his rifle around wildly. "DON'T TOUCH ME YOU SPIRI-"

Saren slammed Druso into the wall, knocked his rifle away, and held him in place with a biotic field. "Druso! What the FUCK are you doing?"

The marine simply began to sob, shaking his head furiously and struggling under Saren's grip; Saren growled, swore, and punched the marine in the head with a biotic punch.

"Spirits' piss," Plitus groaned, getting off the ground. "You knock him out?"

"Yeah," Saren said, panting.

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me," Saren replied, staring into the bridge. "We have to explain all of this shit to someone."

"Alright. We're missing Faussius," Plitus said. "Anyone know where he is?"

"He got into the elevator, I think," Albinus replied.

"Alright. Albinus, Lauritian, go back to the hangar, figure out where he is, tell Santux to prep the shuttle. Lavus, with Saren - go figure out what the fuck happened up here. Rest of you with me - we're keeping an eye on Tanis and Druso," Plitus said, nodding at Saren.

"Lavus - you check the CIC boards, and I'll see if I can pull anything off the command consoles." Saren made his way into the bridge proper and attempted to activate the command console; his omnitool linked up with it, but he recieved nothing but error messages and garbled data. Saren logged the data he received, and returned to find Lavus cursing as he pried open the base of the main holo-board.

"Doesn't make any spirits-damned sense. It's running on aux power and it lights up, but it keeps spitting errors at me," Lavus muttered. "You get anything, Spectre?"

"No - same as you."

"Wiring seems fine, and my scans are all clear," Lavus said, checking his omnitool. "Maybe it's got something to do with the second deck being all fucked up?"

"Plausible," Saren noted. "We're not going to get anything at this rate - we might as well leave."

"More than happy to get the hell off this deathtrap," Lavus agreed.

The group returned to the elevator - with one marine carrying Druso - and descended back to the bottom deck. Making their way into the hangar, the group found Albinus and Lauritian standing over the missing marine, Faussius, who was curled up in the corner of landing bay.

"Sarge! He won't move," Albinus shouted, waving the group over. "I tried to get him up and he threw his rifle at me," he said, gesturing at the second rifle on Lauritian's back.

"So? Pick him up and get him on the damn shuttle. We're leaving," Plitus barked.

Albninus and Lauritian both knelt down and grabbed Faussius and wrenched him to his feet; Faussius fought back for a moment before muttering something and going limp. Plitus sighed as the full group returned to the shuttle - the ramp already lowered - and buckled themselves in as the pilot, Santux, leaned out of his seat and looked at the group.

"Spirits, and I thought Albinus looked like shit. You guys alright?"

"Just get us off this ship," Plitus said, rubbing at his helmet.

"You got it."

The trip back to the Stalwart passed in silence, save for Santux's request that the convoy move away from the Silverthread and prep a hazard tent; Captain Lucidus was already waiting once the ship docked in the Stalwart's hangar. The second the ramp lowered, he nearly doubled over, and several of the engineers and hangar crew nearby covered their faces; two actually vomited.

"Is there a reason you people are covered in gore and smell like a mountain of rotting corpses?" Lucidus asked, clearly doing his best to remain stoic.

"Crew of the Silverthread went crazy, Captain," Plitus said, remaining on the dropship. "Best for you to see the footage directly, sir."

"Right. Get cleaned up, and we'll do debrief. Any wounded?"

"PFC Aetna here is unconcious. Needs to be restrained just in case - he attacked me before Spectre Arterius knocked him out. Got a few guys in shock, too."

"Alright. I'll be waiting in my quarters when you're ready, Sergeant."

A group of deckhands - these ones wearing hazard suits - pushed several crates over to the back of the dropship, and deployed a temporary quarantine tent; Saren went first and was ushered into a decon tube. A few moments later, he stepped out, his armour free of the gory paste that had built up on it, and waited outside for Sergeant Plitus. After another five minutes, the Sergeant emerged, and after glancing back at his men who were being escorted towards the hangar's medbay for a moment the two walked over to the main elevator and emerged at the top deck. They exited, walked down the corridor to the captain's quarters and entered the already-open doorway to find Cantus sitting at his desk. Both men removed their helmets; Saren stood at attention as Plitus saluted.

"Please, come in," the Captain said, gesturing at the seats opposite him. Saren and Plitus sat down, and Captain Lucidus rubbed at his fringe. "So, would either of you like to explain why the Silverthread - which was working just fine up until the relay fired that wave - is apparently in danger of exploding, and why you people walked out of your shuttle covered in gore?" He tapped at his console, and nodded at Plitus. "Helmet footage, please," he said. Sergeant Merinian nodded in return and tapped at his omnitool; the projector in Cantus' desk lit up and the Captain watched the footage intently. Once it finished, he looked at the two sitting opposite him and pointed at the looping footage. "Explain. Now. And don't leave anything out, because I'm the one who has to write a spirits-damned report as to what the hell all this is."

"There's not much to explain, Captain," Saren said, shaking his head. "No crew in the hangar deck, second deck suffered some sort of catastrophic failure, and...the crew appeared to have turned completely insane?"

"I...I don't know what to say, sir," Plitus said after a moment. "The...the crew, they fought like animals. Would be bad enough, but then Saren blew off the head of that asari and she just kept coming. Same with the rest of them. And the...runes? Glyphs? They were all painting the walls and ceilings with blood and whatnot." Plitus shuddered and closed his eyes. "It's not, well, natural, Captain. And my men - bunch of them broke rank. Druso - PFC Aetna - even shot me with a concussion blast, Captain. I've watched all of these men fight against overwhelming odds, and they've all seen some heinous shi - stuff on pirate vessels, but they just...broke. Sir."

There was a long pause.

"I'm not a superstitious man," Saren said, breaking the silence, "but if I were, I would probably say that this...situation was distinctly of the occult." Saren shrugged. "It doesn't make any sense, and I doubt any research team is going to want to go back onto that ship, given the likelihood that the Silverthread is going to explode soon."

"Alright. Alright, for the sake of simplicity let's just forget about the why behind the crew's insanity and the gore paint and the corpse piles. Why did this not affect the rest of the convoy?" Cantus asked. "The Silverthread's shielding isn't as powerful as the security vessels in our group, yes, but none of the other research vessels suffered this...breakdown."

"Perhaps it's because the Silverthread was the one that launched the probe?" Plitus offered. "I mean, that's not really a reason, but given how little spirits-damned sense any of this makes..."

More silence.

Captain Lucidus sighed, and leaned back in his chair. "Why don't you two go and get some food and some rest. I need to somehow write a report about this madness and kick this up the chain."

 

[Desvenlafaxine]

16th of the Third Umbral Wind, Year 1157 of the Twenty-Sixth Age
(June 15th, 2157 Council Era)​

-------------------------------x-------------------------------


It is six in the morning, on the fourteenth of the second umbral waters. Loyal warriors, scholars and children of humanity, awaken, and prepare for your morning rites. Today's reading is from The Book of Doom, chapter four, verse six.

"And so the wise folk of the city-state of Oxacas gathered beyond the gates, and they fell to their knees before the DOOM SLAYER, and they begged of him: O Great One, who walks amongst the Hells and knows no fear; O Great One, who kills without need of blade, what would you have us do? In our time of need, if you cannot come to our aid, what shall we do?"

"But the DOOM SLAYER said nothing, and simply pointed at the burning corpse of the Daemon Imperator which lay behind HIM, a mountain of flesh which blocked out the very sun. Then the DOOM SLAYER walked over to the dead beast, whose mighty head lay upon the earth, and with HIS hands he tore open the skull of the foul creature. HE lead the wise folk into the body of the demon, ripping and tearing with HIS hands to create tunnels of flesh and blood which could be trod open without trouble."

"HE spent many days with the wise folk within the Daemon Imperator, and without words HE taught the wise folk many things. How to carve runes of bloodlust and war from the bones of the enemy. How to draw wards of healing and protection with the steaming blood of the demon. How to purify hell-flesh to eat in times of need. This, and many things more, which the wise folk would take to heart."

"Many suns later, the DOOM SLAYER carved the way to the hindquarters of the Daemon Imperator, and the wise folk fell to their knees again. O Great One, who has taught us the ways of the HELLWALKER and BLOOD-DRINKER and FLESH-TEARER, how can we ever thank you for the countless blessings you have bestowed upon us?

"Then the wise folk wept tears of joy, for they were the lucky few who had the chance to hear the UNCHAINED PREDATOR speak aloud! Glory to them, for they were touched by HIS words. HE ripped open the behind of the Daemon Imperator, leading the wise folk into the light of the sun once more, and HE gestured at the many miles they had walked through the dead demon, and the command HE gave was the most sacred and important of all, spoken with such hate and ferocity that the entire planet shook from HIS mighty speech:"

"RIP AND TEAR. UNTIL IT IS DONE."

"So it was spoken, and so it is obeyed. We, who are HIS servants; we, who are the bulwark against the heretic and the demon and the unclean, must carry out HIS order."

Loyal humans, do not forget your sacred duty. Know that the work of humanity shall not end and that humanity cannot rest. Not until every demon, every heretic, every denizen of hell has been ripped to pieces, the flesh torn from their bones and their bones ground to dust and the dust burned in the fires of purity.

Now, loyal humans, join me in the first recital of the day: yours is the shield that guards us from sin...


-------------------------------x-------------------------------
​

The Councilors sat.

They sat in silence, watching the footage again, and again, and again.

It was Tevos who broke the quiet.

"Goddess protect, how are we going to explain this - any of this - to the general public, when I can barely explain what happened to begin with?"

"Have you even read all of the reports?" Valern asked quietly, shaking his head.

"No - my aide gave them to me only moments before the meeting," Herane replied. "Do they...elucidate the situation at all?"

"They don't," Sparatus grumbled. "Not in the slightest. Nothing makes any spirits-damned sense. One of the reports - document sixteen, I believe - points out that, even assuming that this shockwave could magically cause the crew of the Silverthread to succumb to insanity, there are still problems. The blood, for example - the footage shows Spectre Arterius and the marines being nearly ankle-deep in blood once they arrive on the top deck of the ship. There wouldn't have been that much blood if you combined all of the fluids of every crew-member on the ship - you'd need nearly triple the number of crew to achieve that. Or the quarian. How was he still alive and talking, despite being removed - forcibly - from his suit and ripped in half for more than fifteen minutes? How-"

"-I understand, Fallox," Tevos snapped. "The fact that none of this is possible, let alone plausible, is not lost on me."

More silence.

"Let's put aside how we break this to the public for a moment," Valern noted. "That, frankly, is less important than deciding what we do now.

"Well, I think security is the top priority," Sparatus replied. "Whatever is beyond that relay is clearly dangerous - nobody is going to debate that. We shore up defensive posture around that relay, and then we try and figure out what's beyond it, in order to ascertain the nature of this threat."

"And if...this," Valern said, gesturing to the looping footage, "happens again?"

"An unfortunate, but necessary loss," Sparatus said quietly. "Imagine if this madness inflicted any major city in Citadel space - the casualties would be enormous, the repercussions impossible to handle. I'm exaggerating a little, sure, but we have no reference for how this event happened and no knowledge about the mechanics behind it. Besides, the mass relay in question was already active when we arrived at the scene - which means that something on the other side activated it. If - when - the people who turned the relay on come into contact with us, we have to be ready, whether that means asking them questions or gunning them down."

Herane looked thoughtful, and she took a deep breath before speaking. "Alright. We'll start by prepping the Citadel Fleet transfers, then - we'll need to call in Fleet Admiral Juturna..."

​

-------------------------------x-------------------------------​

Plitus sighed as he returned, once again, to the Chalua Hospital entrance; after several more debriefings and meetings, he and the rest of his squad had been sworn to secrecy and transferred back to the Citadel for "temporary stress-related leave," whatever that meant. By rote, he made his way into the psychiatric ward, signed in at the front desk and was ushered into the depths of the hospital past several guarded secure checkpoints. He met with the usual doctor, and looked inside to find Druso watching a sitcom with a bored expression. "Is he doing any better?" Plitus asked.

"I'm afraid not," the asari psychologist said, shaking her head. "Druso seems normal enough most of the time, but there are...incongruities in his behaviour. He keeps drawing those runes we saw in the helmet-cam footage, and if pressed as to why he gets violent. He also refuses to admit that he attacked you, even when presented with evidence. The worst of it, though, happens in the evenings." The asari frowned. "Almost every night, in the middle of his sleep cycle, he just sits up in bed, and he starts mimicking those gibberish chants he heard from those cultists..."

 

[Desvenlafaxine]

Frontier Space
The Exalted Exitium

Jon Grissom snapped awake as his door chimed, threw off his bedsheets, pulled his shirt off his nightstand and put it on as he walked over to his desk. "Enter!"

The doors slid open to reveal a girl in her late teens wearing heavy green armour kneeling in front of the doorway; with her helmet tucked beneath her arm, her bald, pale head was barely visible beneath the faintly-glowing runes carved into her skin. "Lord Admiral Grissom, my apologies for waking you," the woman said in a courteous tone.

"Sister Nought, nobody on this ship needs to apologize for waking me, let alone a member of the Chaplaincy. Please, come in," Jon said, nodding at his desk."

"I'm afraid I will be unable to sit with you to speak, Lord Admiral," the woman said; her red eyes flashed as she opened them, and her belt-cape swished on the floor as she stood up.

"What's the matter, Jennifer?" Jon asked, pulling his armour out of his locker and strapping himself in. "Do we have demonsign?"

"The alarum is not ringing, so I imagine not," Jennifer said with a smirk. "Abbess Shepard simply stated that you must see her at once," she continued, her expression returning to its usual frown. "She would not tell me the details - she says it would be best to tell you in person."

"Hrrmph. A bad sign, I'd say." Jon finished sealing himself into his armour, letting the sharp jolt of heat wash over him as the suit's runes linked with his own, then clamped the helmet to his belt. He holstered his handgun on his waist, and stretched his arms for a moment. "Well then," Jon said with a grin, "I suppose we ought to be off."

The two walked at a steady pace through the corridors of the Bloodlust towards the bridge, passing by crew who greeted Lord Admiral Grissom with quick nods. Once they arrived at the bridge access hatch, the black-robed adjutant bowed deeply before pressing his fists together in salute and opening the doors.

"ADMIRAL ON THE BRIDGE," the adjutant shouted. All of the personnel on the bridge who were not busy left their seats, knelt at attention and slammed their fists together; Jon took his seat in the captain's throne at the raised centre of the bridge, with Jennifer at his side, gazing out of the windows at the rune-locked spatial tunneler which floated not far from the ship.

"At ease," he said with a wave of his hand. The bridge crew returned to their stations, save for a middle-aged woman with a shaved head clad in thick, hulking armour which was a faded shade of grey and covered in scorch-marks; the dozens of scripture-chains which hung from her armour clinked as she approached Jon.

"Lord Admiral," Abbess Hannah Shepard said in a raspy voice, signing the Slayer's Sigil before slamming her fists together with a loud clang.

"Abbess," Jon replied, signing the Sigil in turn before leaning into the throne. "Is there an emergency?"

"We are unsure, my Lord." Hannah turned and gestured at one of the crew in the communications pit, her tone curious. "Midshipman Justinian detected that the spatial tunneler linked on the other end was activated at some point in the recent past; our rune-lock detected a foreign object attempting to break through to our side of the tunneler."

"Hmm. And the lock is holding?"

"Yes, my Lord. Wretch-Ensign Khufu's team completed their work an hour ago - should you desire it, we could send the object back, let it through. Or, of course, annihilate it. At your desire, Lord Admiral Grissom."

"Do we know what the object is?"

"The Wretches say that they, ah, do not recognize the make of the device. If it is demon-born - which they doubt, given the apparent lack of demonic corruption within this sector - then it is a novel construction. The object itself is no larger than, say, an average-sized truck - it is, as far as we can tell, little more than a metal cube with some machine-components within."

"Concerning," Jon said thoughtfully after a moment. "I would not wish to bear the news to anyone that the demons have learned to break any of our rune-locks, let alone innovate."

"A troubling conundrum indeed, my Lord. It is why I sent Sister Nought to wake you," Hannah noted with a turn of her head.

"Well, we shall have to face this threat at some point. I would not have it known that I fled from a threat for fear of danger, rather than illuminate the circumstances surrounding the threat. Midshipman Justinian, you have the honours - please compile a report and transit it back to Sanctuary Cathedral at once, top priority."

"Yes, Lord Admiral," a young man shouted back from the comm pit.

"Crew, this is the Lord Admiral," Jon said into his throne's comm a moment later. "A foreign object appears to have broken through the rune-lock on the other end of the spatial tunneler. We are going to let it through and ascertain its nature - and if it poses a threat, we will purge it. All crew to battle posture, condition two." He looked up to find Abbess Shepard grinning wildly, and he smiled back.

"Well then, Abbess Shepard, I'll grant you leave - marshal your warriors, if you would. I would not expect a shipboard fight, but if it comes I know you will be glad to do battle."

"Of course, Lord Admiral," Hannah replied with a toothy grin. "It will be good for the Slayers, even if we do not fight, to rattle the chainsaws and prepare for combat." Hannah bowed slightly, then turned to Jennifer. "Come, Sister Nought - let us leave the Lord Admiral to his preperations."

"Yes, Abbess," Jennifer said with a nod.

The two women left the bridge, and Jon returned his full attention to his command terminal and the spatial tunneler before him. He closed his eyes for a split second, said a quick prayer, then opened his eyes, refreshed. "Alright!" he shouted, tone upbeat. "Bring the Bloodlust back two firing sectors from the tunneler and deploy hardpoints! Wretch-Engineers, argent reactors to seventy percent output, stand by to load tertiary capture munitions. Slayers stand by to repel boarders. Crew, stand fast and prepare for the worst, and join me in the recital of war!"

The entire bridge crew began to chant, and the corrdiros filled as the prayer which was sounded over comm and spoken by all echoed through the ship.

Jon smiled, letting the familiar words soothe him. "Yours is the shield that guards us from sin..."

After several rounds of prayer, all sections of the Bloodlust reported the ready signal, and Jon watched intently as the ship aligned with the spatial tunneler.

"Signals report all clear. Lord Admiral, we are ready to fire the rune-key on your mark," one of the bridge crew said.

Jon sealed his helmet's visor, raised a hand, and swept it forward. "Fire!"

"Firing rune-key!"

A blue-white blur streaked towards the spatial tunneler, hitting it directly in its fiery-red core; moments later, the core flashed several confirmation runes, and the red core suspended within the tunneler's spinning rings dimmed into a soft blue; the grey body of the tunneler gradually regained its metallic-blue sheen, and the fleshy tendrils which covered the tunneler receded into nothing. The rings surrounding the core began to spin at their normal speed once again, and Jon watched intently as the spatial tunneler flared to life.

"Spatial tunneler resuming regular operations," one of the bridge crew shouted. "Sending pull signal - unidentified object drops into realspace in three, two, one mark."

The spatial tunneler flashed for several moments, and a small metallic box popped into space near the tunneler; it floated around for a moment before coming to a halt.

"Unidentified object pull complete. Wretches, sending you scan data," one of the signals crew said.

"Receiving," replied one of the Wretch-Engineers over comms. "Matches our previous scans - it is indeed a metal casing with what appears to be...perhaps an engine or some sort of propulsion unit with-"

"-Lord Admiral, this is Vicar Kenson," a woman said coolly over the bridge comms. "We've confirmed residue from the overload trap we placed on the linked tunneler on our scanners. Whatever activated the tunneler on the other side set off the Lazarus Thorns, sir."

"Slayer's shit," Jon cursed. "That means either demons opened our rune-lock or innocents were just hit with a Lazarus wave - all crew," Jon said into his comms, "condition one! We are going through the spatial tunneler! Midshipman Justinian, update Sanctuary Cathedral. Wretch teams, retrieve the unknown object and get the analysis teams working. Ready check in ten minutes. Helmsman, take us in by the tunneler."

The Bloodlust eased towards the tunneler, and Jon watched intently as a trio of shuttles departed from the Bloodlust and towed the unknown device into an isolation cage; the minutes passed slowly and Jon did his best to curb his excitement. Probably just innocents wondering what our rune-lock was, he thought to himself. Just because you haven't slain any demons in the past week, doesn't mean that you will today. He sighed, took a deep breath, and began reciting prayers of calm to pass the time. Soon enough, the ready check passed with an all-clear, and Jon signed the Slayer's Sigil before standing up. "Helmsman! Bring us through the tunneler!"

"Yes, my Lord!" the helmsman shouted, flipping a set of levers; there was a loud screeching noise as the the Bloodlust was catapulted into faster-than-light. Seconds later, the ship was dumped into realspace again, and Jon's eyes widened in excitement as he saw several dozen ships he didn't recognize waiting not far from the spatial tunneler. He had to sit himself down, mentally chanting calming mantras and taking deep breaths before he sighed.

"Signals?" he asked after a moment, his tone far less excited.

"Looks like alien ships," one of the bridge crew said, sighing. The bridge echoed with disgruntled muttering, and Jon cut them off by clearing his throat loudly.

"Crew, it's not demons, it's aliens. I know this isn't what we'd hoped for, but we'll make do. Vicar Kenson, please have your personnel fetch some runes of cognizance and the Volumes of Unity. Abbess Shepard, I will join you on the departure deck shortly" Jon said into his comms. He turned to the dark-skinned man sitting to his left and nodded. "Vice-Lord Admiral Anderson, you have command." Jon got up and strode out of the bridge as the crew behind him began chattering as they worked; he jogged towards one of the ship's elevators and descended from the top of the ship down to the hangar bay on the eighty-sixth deck. The elevator doors opened, and Jon was greeted with the rousing sight and roaring echo of the entire ship's contingent of Slayers - nearly a hundred warriors all wearing hulking armour - lined up in their formations, banging on the floor with their chainswords and singing battle-hymns; at the far end of the formations, Abbess Shepard and Sister Nought both knelt on one knee, hands clasped in prayer. Hannah glanced up as Jon approached, and got to her feet.

"SLAYERS! LORD ADMIRAL ON DECK," Hannah screamed, punching her gauntlet-clad fists together in salute. "THE DOOM SLAYER PROTECTS."

"LORD ADMIRAL," Jennifer and the warriors responded, saluting in turn. "THE DOOM SLAYER PROTECTS."

"The Doom Slayer protects," Jon replied, signing the Slayer's Sigil with the rest of the warriors. "I'm afraid that unless we're very lucky there will be no demon-slaying today. No, we're contacting some aliens who may have tripped our rune-lock by accident."

"Damnation," Jennifer hissed; Hannah punched her in the shoulder with a loud clang.

"Respect, Sister Nought," Hannah replied coolly. "Diplomacy is the Lord Admiral's duty, and protecting him is ours."

"It's quite alright - there's no need to punish Sister Nought for having a bit of war-deprivation," Jon said with a smile.

"You are too merciful, Lord Admiral," Jennifer said quietly.

"Hah! Soft in your old age," Hannah said; several of the Slayers nearby chortled and beneath his helmet Jon smirked.

"Enough with the insults, you lot. Abbess Shepard, please select four of your finest to accompany us on our diplomatic mission. We'll depart as soon as Vicar Kenson arri- ah, speak of the angel," Jon said, turning to watch the elevator doors open. A woman wearing a long set of robes over her hardsuit jogged over, and deposited a small case on the ground.

"Apologies for the delay, Lord Admiral," the woman said, saluting. "This is the first time we've had to dig out the Volumes of Unity since training."

"Mmm. How many runes, Vicar Kenson?"

"Two dozen cognizance runes, and three runes of illumination - gifts for you to give as you see fit," the woman replied, nodding at the case.

"Perfect. You may return to your post," Jon said; Kenson bowed, and took off at a sprint towards the elevator. "Now then - let us depart! We may not be slaying any demons yet, but we can at least spread the word of the Doom Slayer," Jon said.

"Massani, Ryder, Dah, Ahern, with me. The rest of you are dismissed!" Hannah shouted. Four Slayers stepped forward, clipping their chainswords to their belts, and Jon led the group over to his personal shuttle. The Slayers clamped themselves into the shuttle, and Jon was about to follow Hannah into the cockpit when Sister Nought cleared her throat.

"Ah, Lord Admiral, would it be acceptable for me to fly the shuttle?" she asked in a polite tone.

"But of course, Sister. Be my guest," Jon said with a wide smile.

 

[Desvenlafaxine]

Relay 314, System 314
Citadel Space

Juturna simply stared at the man for a moment before blinking several times. "Uh, yes. Um. Thank you. I am Rear Admiral Juturna Atruus, representing the Citadel and its many member races. I, ah, see that you are able to understand me and you already speak Thesserit - may I ask how?"

Jon stood up, clipping his helmet to his waist. "I am wearing a rune of cognizance, Rear Admiral," he replied, head cocked slightly. "I figured your peoples would also be carrying them, but that it wouldn't hurt to bring my own. Is that not the case?"

"Rune?" Juturna asked. "Like the ones on your ship?"

"No, those are inscriptions," Jon replied, his expression inquisitive. "I'll reach into my armour, if that's alright."

"Go ahead."

A small compartment on the side of Jon's armour hissed open, and he withdrew a small disc that seemed tiny in his massive gauntlets. He held it in an open hand; the disc itself was a polished beige, engraved with a complex series of glowing blue symbols arrayed in a spiral. "It's not the most up-to-date of our runic technology, but certainly reliable."

"But how does it allow you to comprehend my speech, and grant you knowledge of Thesserit?" Juturna asked, her tone level.

"I don't understand the question," Jon replied, confused. "Do the peoples of your Citadel not have rune magic?"

There was a long pause; Juturna glanced at Saren, who simply stared back in disbelief.

"I'm sorry, did you say magic?" Juturna said slowly.

"Rune magic, to be precise," Jon said.

"It is possible," the woman next to Jon noted in a rasping voice, "that they do not posses runic magic, Lord Admiral. It is, after all, only one of many branches of sorcery."

"Yes, that's true, Abbess Shepard," Jon replied, tapping the rune-disc against his chin thoughtfully. "Ah, forgive me - this is Abbess Hannah Shepard, milady."

"When you say magic and sorcery," Juturna said, "you do mean - you are referring to...miracle making? Effecting change in a non-scientific manner?"

"Well, no," Jon replied in a tone that suggested concern. "Miracle making, that would be theurgy, and magic is certainly scientifically and logically consistent, as is sorcery. Do you mean to suggest that you and your peoples are not familiar with magic?"

"We are," Juturna replied, "but for us magic occupies the realm of myth, legend and the charlatan."

The alien delegation all exchanged glances, and the expression on Jon's face darkened. "Slayer protect," he said slowly. "You mean to say you have been fighting the forces of Hell without the assistance of sorcery? It's certainly possible, but I would be lying to say that I would not miss its absence in combat."

"Ah. Right. That was the other matter I wanted to discuss before we moved on," Juturna said with ill-concealed disbelief. "When you mentioned the 'tides of Hell,' you were speaking in metaphorical terms, co-"

"-you jest!" the young woman standing at Abbess Shepard's side said in an incredulous tone.

"Sister Nought!" Hannah hissed; the young woman flinched and made a curious sign with her right hand over her chest. "Please, forgive her - she is but an acolyte, concerned more with duty than with diplomacy."

"It's, uh, alright," Juturna replied. "But my question still stands."

"Rudely as Sister Nought may have put it," Jon said carefully, "I must echo her sentiments. You know nothing of Hell and its demonic spawn? You and your peoples have not, do not face the minions of Doom, foul servants of sin and evil, in open combat?"

"I'm afraid not," Juturna said, doing her best to not laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "The peoples of the Citadel certainly don't live in world free of evil but I can say with one-hundred-percent surety that we have never had to fight the...ahem, spawn of the underworld?" She flinched as Abbess Shepard fell to her knees with enough weight to send and echoing clang through the hangar, eyes wide and expression one of pure awe.

"His will, his strength, his shield," Hannah said in rapturous tones. "The Doom Slayer protects! A land untainted by Hell and its corruption - Slayer bless us, this is joyous news!" She signed the symbol Sister Nought had made, and the rest of the humans followed suit.

"The Doom Slayer protects," Jon agreed, nodding.

"Ah....very well. In any case, why don't we move to somewhere better suited to continue our discussion, rather than standing around in this hangar?"

"I find the idea agreeable," Jon replied. "Come, Abbess, there will be time for prayer later."

"The conference room is just at the end of the hall past this hangar - please, follow me and the escorts," Juturna said. She nodded at her escort detail and Saren, and led the motley group out of the hangar; they made a right at the corridor and walked over to a large conference room at the end of the hall. Juturna hoped with all her might that the chairs - which were designed to handle krogan - would withstand the bulk of the humans, and she inwardly sighed in relief as she sat across from Jon and Hannah; the other humans remained standing at attention.

"Ah, before we begin, milady," Jon said, "I would hand over some materials for you and your peoples. I shall seek to illuminate our society - and I assume you will do so in kind - but I figure the giving of hard-copy information and gifts is acceptable?"

"It is, though of course we will have to subject the items in question to security checks."

"Of course. Sister Nought, if you please." Jon turned as Sister Nought pulled a slim, wooden case from her chestpiece and proffered it to the Lord Admiral with both hands; he took it, and set it on the table. "This case contains the Volumes of Unity, an abridged physical tome containing the most pertinent elements of our history, religion, culture, and language as well as an unabridged copy on a datastick. Also contained within are several runes of cognizance, as well as some runes of illumination - gifts, for those who wish them."

"Thank you," Juturna replied; Jon slid the case across the table, and she passed it to Wehun. "Lieutenant Aral, please take this to the hangar and have it undergo the proper checks."

"Yes ma'am," the salarian said, clearly happy to be leaving the room. He grabbed the case and walked out at a brisk speed; Juturna returned her attention to the humans before her.

"Before we continue," Juturna said, her tone grave, "I do have some pressing concerns regarding your...ahem, magic."

"Oh? In what way?" Jon replied thoughtfully.

"A few days ago, we discovered the mass relay you emerged from - covered in tendrils and its core red instead of blue. We attempted to send a probe through the relay, but in doing so activated some sort of shockwave."

"Oh, goodness, yes, that would be our rune-lock," Jon said, nodding. "The Lazarus wave - did it happen to affect some of your people adversely?"

Adversely? Yes. Yes, you could say that," Juturna replied. "Shortly after the mass relay fired the shockwave, the crew of the ship which launched the probe suffered a catastrophic...breakdown."

"Oh, no," Jon said softly. "Do you have footage?"

"I do. It is the opinion of some of my superiors that having you shed some light on exactly what happened to the crew of the ship in question, the Silverthread, holds just as much import as establishing formal relations with your Exalted Exitium." Juturna pulled several helmet-cam recordings and photos taken from the Stalwart's expedition into the Silverthread, and pulled them up on the table's holoprojector; she shuddered as the footage of the blood-rivers, corpse-piles and insane crew began to play. The room fell silent as the humans watched, and a few minutes later Jon sighed.

"I am sorry for the losses inflicted upon the crew of the Silverthread," Jon said, his face steeped in sorrow. "The systems we use to prevent the forces of Hell from utilizing mass relays, both the rune-lock that seals the relay and the Lazarus Thorns which either kill or cause madness in any would-be demonic trespassers were not designed with non-humans in mind. We...we simply never considered it seriously, and now we must face the consequences. Am I correct in noticing that the corrupting influence of the proto-Gore Nests and the unholy inscriptions within the Silverthread caused some of the soldiers tasked with clearing the ship to suffer breakdowns?"

Saren cleared his throat, and Juturna nodded at him. "That's correct, Lord Admiral. Spectre Saren Arterius - I led the team into the Silverthread. Not only were the crew of the ship unnaturally" - he refused to say supernaturally - "hard to kill and ferally violent, several of the marines who fought with me either broke down, and one even broke rank. These are men who were no stranger to combat or its dangers, Lord Admiral, and I admit even I, an elite warrior, was unusually nervous during the fight."

"The dangers of exposure to Lazarus waves, unholy artifacts and demonic inscriptions without proper innoculation are well-documented - we will be sure to pass that along," Jon noted. "The Exalted Exitium will be happy to provide recompense for this...tragedy borne of our own ignorance. This ship, the Silverthread, did you cleanse it?"

"The reactor went critical due to multiple fuel leaks and points of failure not long after the expedition returned," Juturna replied. "Nothing remains of the ship."

"Thank the Slayer. And the marines who suffered breakdowns from their exposure?"

"Back on the Citadel. As far as I'm aware the one who broke ranks and ran continues to suffer from some sort of psychosis - copying the runes he saw and mimicking the speaking-in-tongues of the Silverthread's crew - but the other marines are simply recuperating mentally," Juturna noted.

Jon's eyes went wide, and he glanced over at Hannah with a terrified expression. "Slayer's shit," Jon whispered. "The Citadel. Is it a densely packed mega-station? And am I correct in understand that it houses critical aspects of the Citadel races' governments?

"Yes, it is heavily populated, and it does hold important functions of governance," Juturna said.

"Listen carefully to me. You need to send a message back to the Citadel, now, and you MUST order the immediate isolation of the soldiers who suffered breakdowns. As for the poor sap who has been inflicted with corruption, he must be executed at once." Jon leaned forward, eyes wild. "This is not up for negotiation, Rear Admiral. If you do not do this, you place of all the Citadel and its peoples at risk of demonic incursion, and without the resources or know-how to fight the unholy there will be catastrophic losses."

"I...excuse me," Juturna replied, "I understand that we're - the Citadel - is clearly dealing with an outside-context problem, but we're not in the buisness of jailing men for undergoing trauma, let alone executing the mentally ill without cause."

"Without cause?" Hannah half-shouted. "Milady, if the condition of the marines worsen or the isolated one breaks free, you will have a literal invasion from Hell on your hands in less than a day. Unless your people are spontaneously able to learn the methods and modes of anti-demonic warfare-"

"-there it is again," Saren said coolly. "Demons. Literal invasions from Hell. You mean it, don't you?"

"Why would I lie about a matter as grave as this?" Hannah snapped back.

"Abbess," Jon said in a cautioning tone.

"I'm not accusing you of lying, Abbess - just making sure we're clear. Most - if not all all - of my superiors and our society at large does not believe in the supernatural, at least not in a literal, day-to-day sense," Saren explained.

"Sister Nought, the projector, please," Jon said, watching as Jennifer pulled a disc from her sash and placed it on the desk. It lit up a few moments later with what appeared to be helmet-cam footage; the recorder was one of many warriors clad in armour that resembled Abbess Shepard's, and all carried enormous firearms. The dozen or so human warriors were marching through a dust-swept valley of some sort, a midday sun beating down on them.

"There," one of the warriors shouted. "The map indicates that the nest is in that cave."

The warriors marched towards the mouth of a small cave; the interior was lit by glowing runes which hung from the ceiling and the walls were smeared with blood. The group descended into the cave, following the only available passage, and as they walked the grey rock walls began to shift into a bloody red that was indistinguishable from the blood which covered it. Moments later, the descending, winding tunnel gave way to a large chamber, the ground impossible to see beneath a knee-high pool of shining red blood, and at the very centre of the chamber Jutuarna could see a massive pile of corpses surrounded by a variety of strange creatures; some were brown-skinned, naked and had long, three-clawed hands, while the others resembled humans with rotting flesh and exposed bone, their faces twisted into disgusting, stretched horrors. The creatures were chanting and dragging more corpses out of the bloody muck beneath their feet, and the warrior at the front of the group drew a weapon like the one on Abbess Shepard's hip in his right hand, and one of the toothed-blades in his left.

"KILL THE DEMONS BEFORE THEY OPEN THE PORTAL!!" the warrior shouted, as the blade whirred to life with a sputtering, angry buzz, the teeth whirring into a furious blur. "IN HIS NAME, KILL!"

The warriors charged forward and Juturna could only watch in awe as they leapt headlong into melee range of the foul creatures as they fired their guns; most turned to engage the humans, though some remained, furiously screeching and chanting over the corpse-pile. The human warriors fought like nothing Juturna had seen before - and she'd once watched a dozen krogan kill a thresher maw in person. The brown-skinned monsters threw orbs of fire and rent great tears in the armour of the humans, but to no avail; the humans slashed gaping, spraying wounds with their chainswords, blasted limbs from the demons with point-blank shots from their firearms. Suddenly, the cave - dimly lit by the ceiling runes - burst with a blinding red light; there was an awful screeching noise, and in an instant all of the blood was sucked into the corpse pile. The pile - the nest - twisted and pulsed as the corpses fused into a great mountain of meat; dagger-like teeth sprouted at the top of the pile and an angry red orb ripped out of nothingness above it.

"The gore portal opens! Hold fast, and kill faster! The Slayer demands it!" someone shouted.

The battle raged on, the recording warrior barely paying notice to the demons - and they must be demons, a small voice in the back of Juturna's mind whispered - now pouring out of the gaping red hole above the gore nest. Rather, the warrior simply continued to fight, killing dozens of the brown-skinned monsters, when a massive thud knocked the warriors to their feet; the recorder looked up, and there stood behind a literal wall of demons one that towered above the rest: a great eyeless biped beast which howled and screamed before charging the warriors. The recorder screamed in fury, tossing his gun and blade away before drawing a glowing red orb from his chest rig; he smashed it into his helmet, and an ominous red glow enveloped his fists.

"SLAYER! GRANT ME YOUR HATE! RIP AND TEAR!" he shouted, before charging forward.

"BERSERK! BERSERK! BERSERK!" the warriors shouted, their voices a mix of joy and excitement. "RIP AND TEAR!"

Juturna watched, as the recording warrior screamed, running directly towards the wall of demons standing before him with his left arm wound back; the brown-skinned creatures formed a wall in front of the great beast and threw a wall of fire which the warrior simply ran through as though it was simply not there. He emerged from the fire within melee distance of the demonic horde and Juturna's jaw dropped as the warrior punched the demon and it exploded with enough force that its limbs rocketed off its body like shrapnel, punching through the foul beasts standing nearby. The recording warrior tore through the demon ranks like a rocket-powered blender, every punch and kick smearing its target into chunks of gore and fountains of blood. The fight - slaughter, really - lasted less than a minute, and soon enough the warrior was standing before the giant demon atop a pile of demon meat. The giant demon hunched over and screamed, stomping the ground as if to challenge the warrior which had just slain its minions, and the warrior roared in response.

"RIP AND TEAR," the warrior shouted, looking up at the monster which towered over him. "RIP AND TEAR YOUR GUTS! YOU ARE HUGE! THAT MEANS YOU HAVE HUGE GUTS!"

"HUGE GUTS!" his comrades screamed in agreement.

The great beast charged the warrior at blinding speed, grabbing the warrior in a massive, crushing grip, and in a split second the warrior headbutted the demon so hard that its chest caved inwards, then tore his way through the demon. Both halves of the now-dead creature thudded into the ground with a sickly thump. The warrior turned as his the red glow which had enveloped him began to fade; his comrades joined him, and one of them returned the recorder's chainsword and firearm.

"Brother Izunami! An excellent showing," a female voice said, clapping the recorder on the shoulder as he checked his chainsword. "More like that and you'll do just fine on your next round of testing."

"You flatter me, Lady Durand," Izunami said, falling to one knee.

"Bah! Enough nonsense, boy, to your feet!" The woman strode forward towards the gore nest and pulled a long, rune-covered knife from her belt, before plunging it into the pulsating heart of the nest; there was a horrific screaming noise, and the nest suddenly exploded into a wild spray of meat-paste.

The projection began to loop, and Jon waved a hand over the projection disk, the display winking out before he returned the device to Sister Nought.

"So you see - if any of the afflicted soldiers manages to gather a pile of bodies, he will be able to open a portal to Hell without any trouble," Jon said, shaking his head. "Your Citadel, if it is as large as I am thinking, will have no shortage of nooks and crannies that will allow a skilled warrior to do such a thing without detection. And without the martial skill or enchanted weapons those warriors possessed..."

There was a long silence, and when Juturna spoke it was in a slow, cautious tone.

"Alright. I see your point, much as I wish I didn't believe what you're showing me. I'll forward my recommendation, then, that the marines be placed under isolation for medical reasons, and that the afflicted soldier be placed under permanent confinement for the forseeable future."

"I did not say confinement, Rear Admiral. I said execution," Jon replied. "No person of moral standing enjoys the execution of a corrupted soul, an innocent lost to Hell - but it is a necessary duty, milady. I have been burdened with the duty of cleansing more times than I wish to count, and yet I have rest easy each time knowing that I have saved many more lives by taking a single one."

"Surely if Druso - the man in question - is confined, he poses no threat?"

"I have watched children - children, you must understand - who have been granted the power to tear men limb from limb after their corruption went unchecked," Jon said, eyes frantic. "I am begging you to make the right decision, for all our sakes."

"I'll recommend his immediate execution," Saren said after a moment. "Spectre's orders."

"Spectre Arteriu-"

"-please, let me finish, Rear Admiral. It makes no sense for these people to lie to us - and I'll agree with the Lord Admiral. I'll gladly kill one man to save two, let alone the entire Citadel," Saren said coolly.

"Your reasoning and candor is appreciated, Spectre Arterius," Jon said with a bow of his head.

"Let me note, though, that this death is on the hands of the Exitium," Saren continued, shrugging. "You've stated that you will compensate for the losses your security system inflicted, and I will hold you to that - especially in Private First Class Druso Aetna's case."

"Of course. I cannot purify the poor soul, nor can I return the life of PFC Aetna which is now forfeit," Jon said, expression sorrowful, "but you have my and the Exitium's word that the families and friends of those afflicted by our lack of foresight will never want for care and comfort. I swear this upon the Doom Slayer's name and on the honour of my soul."

"Thank you," Saren replied.

"It is no trouble. Would it be fair, then, to adjourn for a while, such that you may contact your peoples and we our own?" Jon asked. "Some time for you to read and transmit the contents of the Volume of Unity and run the physical copy back to the Citadel - in addition to the judgements on the corrupted, of course."

"That is fair - we have detailed information on the langauges and cultures of the Citadel available here," Juturna replied, pulling a stack of dataslates from her pocket. "One of my men will instruct you on the use of data-slates - will your, ah, runes allow you to read the information without trouble?"

"Yes, they will," Jon replied, "and in turn simply wearing one of the runes of cognizance we have provided near the body will allow an individual to comprehend our texts. Such measures will have to suffice until we can formulate a runic translation matrix."

The group exchanged several more items and soon Juturna was watching the humans board their shuttle, having agreed upon reconvening in a few hours; before they'd even left she'd pulled Saren aside to the corner of the hangar in a private office.

"You do NOT get to overrule my authority, Saren," Juturna hissed. "Not on my ship, and not without permission, do you understand?"

"I made a judgement call," the turian replied, shrugging.

"And one I was going to agree with - and yet you stood there and obliterated the unified front we'd presented up until now."

"I didn't want to take any chances. But I'm sorry, for what it's worth."

"Sorry." Juturna sighed, and shook her head. "Fine. Look, I'm not going to hold this against you, and I know you are above the law and regulation I abide by."

"If you'd prefer, next time I'll run things by you," Saren said slowly. "If possible."

Juturna nodded and stormed out of the room.

 

[hance1986]

Good to see you here!

Hope this works out.

 

[kahn1234]

Great to see this is here.

 

[KleverKil'Vanya]

Really glad to see this on here as well!

Though anyone know why SB's thread got a moderator lock down?

 

[Desvenlafaxine]

Really glad to see this on here as well!

Though anyone know why SB's thread got a moderator lock down?

Click to shrink...

I was told that the lock was placed because of "the amount of spam/chan/reaction style posts in the audience response." I was a bit confused since there was no warning or anything, but oh well.

 

[RBomber]

I was told that the lock was placed because of "the amount of spam/chan/reaction style posts in the audience response." I was a bit confused since there was no warning or anything, but oh well.

Click to shrink...

In short: Too many similar YouTube video of same songs, and too many "Can Only Erect So Much" reaction Pic. Or that was my impression.

Oh yeah, and too many RIP AND TEAR one liners. And that one liner only.

 

[KleverKil'Vanya]

Was wondering why I got infracted for a post at the very beginning of the thread for posting that armor image everyone seemed to like...
Still confused on that one given that it was posted during a conversation about what the armors looked like.
Also a month plus old at that.

 

[zhuull]

snip

Click to shrink...

It's wonderful to see this over here. To echo at least one person over on SB, I still can't believe that you managed to write a Doom fic that isn't grimderp nonsense and legit brought me to tears at a few points.

Also I think the last update here is missing a threadmark.

 

[kahn1234]

In short: Too many similar YouTube video of same songs, and too many "Can Only Erect So Much" reaction Pic. Or that was my impression.

Oh yeah, and too many RIP AND TEAR one liners. And that one liner only.

Click to shrink...

Considering the fact that there was no spam of songs or "Can Only Erect So Much" posts, nor was there many RIP AND TEAR one liner posts at all, I doubt thats the issue.

Although I hope on this site we can repidly catch up to where the thread on SB was so we can continue with the story.

 

[RBomber]

Considering the fact that there was no spam of songs or "Can Only Erect So Much" posts, nor was there many RIP AND TEAR one liner posts at all, I doubt thats the issue.

Although I hope on this site we can repidly catch up to where the thread on SB was so we can continue with the story.

Click to shrink...

To be fair, admittedly, that's mostly my impression.

 

[Eldritch-Orphan]

Considering the fact that there was no spam of songs or "Can Only Erect So Much" posts, nor was there many RIP AND TEAR one liner posts at all, I doubt thats the issue.

Although I hope on this site we can repidly catch up to where the thread on SB was so we can continue with the story.

Click to shrink...

The only COESM post I can think of was my own, and even then I made sure to include some text and a joke with it. Guess it might be a case of a mod getting miffed that the comments weren't mostly criticism.

Anyways, so as not to outstay this bit of AOOB's welcome, I'm pleased to see that Desven's posting this story, and his others, here as well. It'd be a shame for the people here to miss out on them.

 

[KCKitsune]

The only COESM post I can think of was my own, and even then I made sure to include some text and a joke with it. Guess it might be a case of a mod getting miffed that the comments weren't mostly criticism.

Anyways, so as not to outstay this bit of AOOB's welcome, I'm pleased to see that Desven's posting this story, and his others, here as well. It'd be a shame for the people here to miss out on them.

Click to shrink...

But there was criticism. People did point out that there were some issues... which Desvenlafaxine quickly corrected.

No, I don't buy the "there was too much spam" bovine excrement. There had to be another reason.

 

[Tempist]

Update Priority: Currently in flux due to stories being rehosted here as well as on SB. Thank you for your patience!

Click to shrink...

Will this version eventually pass what you have on SB, assuming the thread doesn't get unlocked?

 

[Eldritch-Orphan]

But there was criticism. People did point out that there were some issues... which Desvenlafaxine quickly corrected.

Click to shrink...

Where did I say there wasn't? All I said was that the mod might not have viewed it as being enough, or something along those lines.

 

[Jax]

At first I thoughed this was a shity crossover, then I started to realized that I was a shity reader.

I will watch this in the name of the DOOM SLAYER!

 

[RBomber]

So, a request:

Can I send a worlbuilding bits: a holding that specifically develops non-Argent dependent technology, and how Church of Saviour accidentally Batarian Honored Tradition of Slavery (well, technically, they work under supervision of Church of Predator, but stuff happens).

 

[Desvenlafaxine]

17th of the Third Umbral Wind, Year 1157 of the Twenty-Sixth Age
(June 16th, 2157 Council Era)

---

...Now, loyal humans, join me in the first recital of the day: yours is the shield that guards us from sin...

...Amen. Thus concludes today's morning rites, and may the Doom Slayer guide us all. With the cessation of this broadcast, your device will now default to your previously-tuned channel...​

---

"Good morning folks, and welcome to the Revelation Network - just before we start, can I say that today's morning rites, read to us by none other than Exalted-High Priestess Meklit Lyon, was really quite something. Her voice always fills me with the energy I need to start the day! For those of you who've switched channels or have somehow forgotten, I'm Emily Wong, and this is the morning news for Holysteele, covering the sanctuary cities of Genesis, Vendetta and Scythe. If you're listening from a smaller settlement, worry not - local editions broadcast after this.

"The daily war report starts with our home sector; light skirmishing continues along the Adamantine Line, with casualties yesterday totalling roughly ninety-six, bringing the weekly sector death toll to just shy of sixty-two thousand. Sector Commander Anderson has stated the current incursion into Sector Ironclad appears to be tapering off, though he does expect that portal-sealing operations along the frontlines could take as long as another two or three months to complete. Sadly, things are not going so well in Sector Foretold; late last night, the sanctuary cities of Saturn-One and Bloodstain on Brutality both fell to sustained demonic incursion. Sector Commander Kahoku was able to evacuate many of the cities' civilians, and estimates that only four million casualties were sustained during the retreat. Experts are unsure if the cities on Brutality will be evacuated for a total regroup. Sector Lithium has also fallen, with the general retreat to Sector Arsenal sounded only three hours ago. This marks the third total sector loss this year, an improvement over last year's time-equivalent figure of sixteen; the Church of the Slayer and the Church of the Predator attribute this success to recent innovations in theurgic combat magic. That's all for the daily war report; for a full breakdown you can visit Revelation Network's war analysis page on the galnet for live updates."

"The weather today looks good so far; Genesis and Vendetta both have a high of fifty-six and a low of twenty-eight with sun all day until ten in the evening. Scythians, grab your coats - it's going to be a high of eighteen and a low of minus two, with up to thirty-two milimetres of rain and scattered hellstorms, yikes. Next we'll have major inter-city traffic, but first thanks to today's sponsors, Chagar-Purgefyre. If you want that authentic imp-plasma sear on your pinkie steak tonight, you're only going to get it one way, and that's with a Chagar-Purgfyre Plasmatic SearTorch. For a limited time only at your local Bastion Depot, get a Plasmatic SearTorch and two plasma fuel cylinders for the low low price of three-thousand six-hundred cartrdiges! While supplies last..."

---

THIS DOCUMENT IS MARKED: CLASSIFIED, STG-2.
PRE-FIRST CONTACT REPORT / PRELIMINARY ANALYSIS RE: 'EXALTED EXITIUM' & HUMANS
SPECIAL TASKS GROUP
DATE: JUNE 16TH / 2157​

FIRST CONTACT DIVISION, SUBDIVISION EE-FC-1
LAST REVISION: N/A​

Contact with the self-styled "Exalted Exitium," the unified society of the race known as humans, has raised several questions that many members of the FCD have felt great concern over. Never before has the Special Tasks Group encountered a civilization who claims to wield "magic" and also posses technology that does not appear to follow known rules of physics. Initially, members of the FCD expressed skepticism at analyzing a document in an alien language without the assistance of a translation module with attached software, and many of us scoffed at the so-called "runes of cognizance" given to the division as a means to analyze the attached Volumes of Unity. To our surprise, these runes appear to work as advertised, granting the wearer knowledge of the human language despite there being no evidence that the engraved necklace is anything more than an engraved piece of titanium.

This incident, we feel, illustrates the degree to which your likely assumptions will be challenged during your reading of this report. Of course it would be foolish to accept everything the Exitium claims about itself at face value at this point in time - and yet the idea that this society would go through the trouble of manufacturing thousands of hours of video evidence and thousands of pages of history, all of which we have found to be at the very least internally consistent, simply to sell its claim that magic exists? It would be as ridiculous as the claim itself. We urge readers to keep an open mind while reading these reports and the Volumes themselves; even if these claims of magic and sorcery are entirely manufactured hoaxes, evidence suggests that these things are all very real to the humans who make up the Exitium. Discounting their feelings may be the instinctual response any sane reader would jump to - but it is, as the great tactician Oman Gajik once said, "impossible to know your enemy without knowing how his peoples live."

To the humans who live in the Exitium, magic is a part of daily life, and their eternal "War against Hell" is a literal struggle against an infinitely evil demonic enemy. The deity they worship, the so-called Doom Slayer, is (apparently) a real figure, elevated to mythical status by means of his martial feats. The Exitium claims to suffer losses on what would be a catastrophic scale for any other race on a daily basis; the Exitium gifts their children firearms as a rite of passage; the Exitium's most popular televised event is the slaughter of "demons."

Here is a species which is clearly capable of aggression and, unchecked, could pose a threat to the Citadel unlike any other - and yet by all accounts our initial meeting has been friendly. For the sake of continued friendly relations, please do your best to understand these humans as they see themselves, and not as they seem to us.

We hope that this preliminary report will serve as a base from which further intelligence-gathering operations can continue. This entry will continue to be updated as new information and insights are acquired.

- EE-FC-1

---

Overview & History (Abridged)

The Exalted Exitium is a unified, semi-democratic theo-magitetechnocracy which spans many upon many systems, all of which host the human race and a number of Redeemed demons. The capital planet Gaia, of the Sanctuary Sector, acts as the central hub of the Exitium; the rest of the Exitium is divided into a dozen loose Sectors, which work in concert to continue the Age-long War on Hell - the sacred duty of all humans and Redeemed to fight, cleanse and purge all reality of Hell and its foul servants.

The Exalted Exitium, both as society and as government, traces its roots directly into human societies before the days of dimensional travel and the holy War on Hell. Records are scarce from the Age of Peace, before even the First Age, when it is said that the forces of Hell were sealed in combat against Heaven, and humanity lived in the Great Ignorance, unaware of the terrors of Hell. Knowledge of the First Age is limited in scope; it is known that the Great Ignorance was shattered, and that humanity was driven from its homeworld, forced to resettle unknown space using experimental faster-than-light travel derived from demonic portal magics. It is during this time, known as the Age of Terror, that humanity was blessed with the presence of the Doom Slayer, a great warrior blessed with divine power by Heaven itself and self-charged with a sacred duty to defeat Hell itself.

Once settled on a number of other planets, the Second Age, the Age of Instruction, began in earnest. It is here that reliable recordings of history truly begin, and it during this time that the Doom Slayer was most seen amongst ordinary men. He set humanity on the road to learning the magics which had up until this point eluded them, and passed down his considerable knowledge on the art of demon-slaying. Here, too, did he charge humanity with their most sacred command, so important that the Doom Slayer - who almost never speaks to mortal men - spoke aloud:

"Rip and tear, until it is done."

So it was, and so it shall be. Humanity has since then turned away from mere survival as a goal, for the Exitium has a clear purpose and a defined goal: to destroy all of Hell and to purge any demon who would serve the servants of Doom. Many Ages have passed since that ancient time; it has been more than fifty thousand of our standard years since the Second Age. In the interim, humanity has spread throughout the stars and been beaten back to Gaia more than once; we have even come across the odd alien race, so primitive as to not even have considered the lands beyond their worlds - worlds which we protect like any other. We have slain the forces of Hell for countless years, fighting side-by-side with the few Redeemed demons who have seen the light of the Slayer, working tirelessly construct greater weapons of war and to seek greater forms of magic with which to wield against the Enemy. Now, we find ourselves in the Twenty-Sixth Age. The War on Hell continues, and so long as there stands before us the hosts of Hell to slay, we shall do our duty with pride and honour. Blessed is the Doom Slayer!

Religion (Abridged)

The Exalted Exitium is a society with one religion - one without name, for its glory and magnificence is beyond the limitation of a single identifier! For we have been touched by the wisdom and hatred of the Doom Slayer, and we shall do our duty to spread his name, his glory and his teachings wherever we go. We shall not do so by force - for it was the stern lesson of the Doom Slayer that the fist and the sword and the gun must be saved for the demon and the heretic; that it is no crime to not have been blessed with His light and His rage.

The Doom Slayer! He is the warrior who has fought against Hell since the time of Heaven! He whose rage is unending! He who rips and tears! Bless his name! Amen!

The Eternal Crusade with which He charged humanity with carrying out has informed the lives of every citizen within the Exitium, and in His name do we sculpt our many Churches. Not every institution is a Church unto itself, but the orders charged with the most sacred of our duties are our greatest religious organizations. Many exist, but the largest and most important are as follows:

The Church of the Lector, which is charged with the instruction of children, the teaching of our religion and the spiritual upkeep of the citizenry,

The Church of the Slayer, which gathers, trains and fields the greatest of our warriors in the image of the Doom Slayer Himself,

The Church of the Predator, which handles matters of crusading and warmaking from the lowliest warriors to the tactics of fleets,

The Church of the Seraphim, which is dedicated to the development of the magics and sorcery of both utility and war, to which we owe so much,

The Church of the Wretch, which is charged with research and development of the latest magitechnology,

The Church of the Saviour, which feeds the hungry, clothes the naked, and shelters the homeless.

Magic: Sorcery, Hermetics and Theurgy

It was known even during the time of the Great Ignorance that magics were a powerful force that could be harnessed for the good of all. Of course, the inverse was true, and humanity would learn quickly that the foul servants of Hell wielded power that far dwarfed the simple play-magic of early humanity. Attempts to gain this power were generally unsuccessful, for humanity sought to control magic as though it was a part of the regular universe, to be studied and known through the same patterns that turn water to ice or air to breath. It was the Doom Slayer who showed humanity that magic has its own rules - and that true power would come from the incorporation of magic and technology. Since the Second Age, the Exitium has lavished great focus on the magic arts, and the rewards have been fruitful indeed.

Magic may be used as a catch-all term for all of these mystic arts, but the Exitium practices three primary classes of magic. Sorcery refers to the manipulation of reality via the imposition of the aether - the space between the planes of Hell and the Real - through the metaphysical reconstruction of spiritual pattern and fueled by sheer force of will; here lies the battlemage, who wields purge-fire and holy lightning. Hermetics is a broad field which deals with the preparation of magic by ritual means, often fueled by the sacrificing of souls and the construction of magi-geometry - encompassing everything from rune magic to faster-than-light travel via astral warping and even instant-construction. Theurgy is the last and most powerful class of magic, which seeks to unite the user with the Source; the very essence of power which surges through the aether made one with the caster. Alas, theurgy - the power to make miracles - is a skill that can be as much danger as boon, and so its mechanics will not be found here. Theurgy's applications can be achieved by even the common folk, though, and blood-wards of healing and protection are known by all in the Exitium.

Economy

The economy of the Exitium finds its roots in the early Ages of humanity, where continued survival was not a goal to be fought for, but rather a hope kept alive only by daily sacrifice. During these dark times, no formal, unified currency existed, and yet a common unit of barter was still in demand amongst the many bastions of humanity - and one was found in the form of ammunition. After all, even today we are eternally besieged by the demonic hordes of Hell, and in those early days there was always a need for the bullet and the energy-cell. Nowadays the Exitium has the luxury of an electronic currency that spans the many systems of humanity: the cart, short for cartridge. In its physical form, it is shaped like miniature, flattened bullet, with a hole through which one may thread a ring or string. There are six carts in a cylinder (a seven-spoked disc), thirty carts in a magazine (a curved rectangle), sixty carts in a box (a cube) and one-hundred carts in a belt (two linked and open rings.) Most transactions are counted in carts and belts, simply for ease of use, though travellers to the Exitium who wish to carry some change may adopt the custom of carrying a few loose carts and perhaps a cylinder or two.

 

[Desvenlafaxine]

"...and that was 'Infinity of Slaughter' by the Serrated Blade! The SB is going on tour next month and the Revelation Network has, that's right, VIP tickets to their concerts in all three major sanctuary cities on Holysteele. For listeners offworld, worry not - the SB is also touring throughout Sector Ironclad and they're also making a quick stop in Sector Trailblazer - you can check any of the SB's social media pages or the Revelation Network's frontpage on the galnet for the full list of touring stops. If you're not from Ironclad or Trailblazer, fret not - you'll get the chance to speak with the band's members via astral projection, plus a recording of the concerts and all the VIP swag you'd normally get will be shipped to you, free of charge! Now, to enter you'll need to be our ninth caller after the mid-day prayer broadcast - so get your phones and comms ready!

It's 12:50 which means it's traffic time! It's looking pretty good on all of the major inter-city transitways, no major congestion or blockages anywhere. There's major construction in downtown Vendetta due to ongoing building-summoning which is scheduled to be finished later today, affecting stops from ICT-17 through ICT-19. We are getting reports that there is an accident which has caused some delays for those of you transiting into the main transit-port in Scythe from the downtown core as well..."

---

It is one in the afternoon. Loyal warriors, scholars and children of humanity, I hope you have had a productive and wonderful day so far. If you can, please join me in your daily second round of prayer.

Yours is the shield that guards us from sin...​

---

This document has been specially prepared for individuals possessing clearance of OUTER CIRCLE or higher.
Persons without authorization caught reading, distributing or possessing this document will face the full extent of the law.

HIGH CIRCLE OF THE ASARI REPUBLICS (OUTER CIRCLE AND ABOVE)
EMERGENCY WORKING SESSION SUMMARY RE: FC W/ THE 'EXALTED EXITIUM'
2157 - JUNE THE SIXTEENTH
Moderator Presiding: Rilayana Makani

Spoiler: Individuals in attendance

Sanaze Irissa, Senior Aide to Councilor Tevos

Leora, Justicar
Aelik, Justicar
Nyxunne, Justicar

Benezia, Matriarch
Seyina, Matriarch
Maarata, Matriarch
Vienti, Matriarch

Liunir T'nalas, Diplomat
Nassana Dantius, Diplomat
Nyxunne M'taqua, Diplomat

Sha'ira Diris, Consort

BLACK DAGGER [Redacted]
BLACK SHOTGUN [Redacted]
CRIMSON PISTOL [Redacted]
GOLD FANG [Redacted]
WHITE YAKSHAL [Redacted]

EMPRESS [Redacted]

First Contact is always a time of tumult and chaos, and yet it is this working group's belief that the situation - as it stands - has the potential to quickly outpace both the Rachni Invasion and the Krogan Rebellions in the scale of catastrophe that could follow in its wake. The Exalted Exitium, the society which we now face, is one which claims to have been at war without pause for fifty thousand years - from a species which, without the assistance of their so-called "magictechnology," has a lifespan of around one-hundred-fifty years. Their society, by their own gleeful admission, is one which venerates compassion just as much as it does carnage; they list a religious order of charity on the same level as they do their churches-militant.

This is a society which is, to this group, a walking contradiction, forged out of what must seem to the humans like a truly eternal conflict. Understanding an alien species is always difficult during First Contact, but this group cannot begin to grasp the mindset of humanity as a whole. Here is a society which truly, fervently believes with every fibre of its being that they wage war on demonic servants of Hell; that magic and sorcery are an everyday part of life; that the highest and most noble of callings is that of the "Slayer," who lives only for bloodshed. Here is a society for whom the science of cloning exists alongside the literal "science" of miracle-making.

Our point is that any and all negotiations with the Exitium must take into account their unusual and warlike nature - and so too must we admit that while the exact nature of this "Hell" and its "demons" may not be divine, several pieces of evidence from both the Exitium and our own experiences (see Special Emergency Report RE: Citadel Fleet Research Vessel Silverthread) lead us to conclude that this "Hell" of the Exitium's is an all-too-real-threat. Our primary concern must, as always, be the safekeeping of the Asari Republics and of Citadel space, and this means that until the precise nature of the threat that "Hell" poses to us is ascertained the exchange of knowledge between the Exitium and the Citadel are of paramount importance. Specifically, the potential for hostiles to use what the Exitium refers to as "dimensional portal-based warping" to invade Citadel space without the need for logistical support across distances means that, theoretically speaking we could be under immediate threat and not even realize it. (Instructions provided by Spectre Saren Arterius immediately following initial First Contact would appear to support that claim; the construction of one of the so-called "gore nests" is well within the reach of a determined civilian, let a lone a turian marine who has apparently suffered some sort of Hell-induced psychotic break.)

The Justicars present have also raised a concerning point - that if we are to, for the purposes of argument, take the Exitium's claims of Hell and its demonic denizens at face value, then we should also consider the very real possibility that the races of Citadel space may have come into contact with this dimension in the past without realizing it. In particular, Justicars Nyxunne and Aelik - both of whom are particularly well-versed in ancient Justicar history - noted that of the few written records which can be traced back to the ancient orders of warriors which gave rise to the Justicars of today, several make reference to fighting "demons" and "hellspawn." Previously, these references were dismissed as the affectations of primitive asari society or explained away as being contact with new forms of wildlife; while it is the opinion of this group that such is probably the case, preparations have been made to re-examine these records.

Several agents also raised the point that it is entirely possible that the Exitium is exaggerating the scale and nature of the conflict; while, of course, it is impossible to determine the truth without firsthand knowledge, we are ill-inclined to believe that the Exitium has not exaggerated the scale of the war they are in. Furthermore, given the zealotry and religious language used, it is the opinion of this working group that there is a non-zero chance that these so-called "demons" are not, in fact, the uniformly evil society that the humans make them out to be; rather, it is certainly within the realm of possibility that these "demons" may just as much be the victims of a religious crusade fueled by an expansionist Exitium. Priority efforts must dedicated to ascertaining the truth, lest the Asari Republics be placed at a grave disadvantage during further negotiations.

Lastly, we must recommend that any offers of a consulate or diplomatic mission aboard the Citadel be postponed until the points raised in the previous section can be, at minimum, cleared up. if it does turn out that the Exitium is the aggressor in a religious war then in doing so we avoid losing face as having supported the "wrong" side, even if we can claim ignorance; if our fears turn out to be unfounded then we simply explain that matters of security are important to us (or that preparations must be made, etc, etc.)

The full, unedited transcript of the meeting can be found attached to this message.

---

Demons (Types, Abridged, Part One)

There are a great number of creatures which can be said to be hellspawn, and since the First Age countless variations of the many species of demon which call Hell home have been counted. A larger compendium can be found in the unabridged digital copy of the Volumes of Unity, but the following creatures are amongst the most common.

Possessed and Gore Nests

The ranks of the possessed are composed of those unlucky enough to be exposed to Lazarus waves, Hell energy or corrupting runes without the benefits of inoculation or protection; the result is a transformation from the base species into a mindless servant of Hell, responding only to the infernal commands of some unknown higher power. Supporting the "higher-power" theory is the fact that records from the early Ages indicate some would simply perish when overwhelmed with any of the listed carriers of possession. Since the Tenth Age, all afflicted individuals have been forced into the ranks of the possessed. Possessed individuals will immediately begin to transform into ghastly abominations; over the course of several hours, individuals will be afflicted with necrosis of the skin and all organs save for the brain, a process only made worse by a tendency towards self-mutilation. As the twenty-hour mark approaches, facial features begin to rot and the skull begins to twist and deform; any clothes or equipment not removed by this point will begin to fuse into the body of the possessed. At the twenty-four-hour mark, the process is completed, and the once living individual will be a faceless demon - a true servant of Hell. Some possessed who have fused with their weaponry can continue to utilize their tools of war, but do not mistake this for sentience; once turned the only mercy one can grant is a swift, clean, death.

Even before the transformation process begins, afflicted individuals will carry out behaviours on instinct - or command. Primary of the possessed's functions is to construct gore nests - piles of corpses ritually enhanced to form small portals into Hell, allowing demons to enter our plane unhindered. If multiple possessed individuals are present during the construction of a gore nest, some will begin inscribing runes of corruption around the nest, allowing Hellish corruption to leak into normal space and accelerating the gore nest's growth. While an incomplete gore nest can be destroyed with simple munitions, the only way to destroy a mature nest is to either tear its heart out and face an onslaught of demons who will attempt to defend the nest as the portal fades, or use a holy weapon or spell to seal the portal and overload the gore nest with the power of the Light.


Imps

Imps are by far the most common demon encountered on the battlefields of Hell; it is not uncommon for an unchecked incursion into our plane to begin with hordes of imps thrown at defensive positions, in waves of fifty thousand or more. Despite their status as cannon fodder in the view of the Lords of Hell, one should not assume that the common imp is an easy kill. With razor-sharp claws, plasma-fire generation capabilities and the ability to traverse nearly any surface, imps have been able to slay even the most seasoned of warriors due to a simple underestimation of their lethality. Their true danger, however, comes from their cunning - imps have been known to camouflage themselves, hide in nooks and crannies, set up ambushes, play dead amongst their fellows and even lay plasma-mines beneath slain Exitium warriors.

Though the imps of today may look nearly identical to those encountered as far back as the First Age, they are exponentially more dangerous. The average imp's claws are supernaturally sharp, easily capable of slashing deep into all but the most magically-reinforced armour, and the plasmatic-hellfire has been noted to instantly reduce unarmoured flesh to cinders. The greatest "improvement" to the imp, however, has been reinforcements to its sturdiness; during the Fourth Age the forces of Hell adopted the Exitium's practice of runic inscription within the bodies of their warriors, and recent autopsies have shown skillful use of structural reinforcement, hellfire-boosters and even mild theurgic regeneration. The modern imp is fully capable of sustaining damage well beyond what its simple flesh would indicate, and imps have been known to continue fighting despite losing limbs, or even their heads. While a well-aimed salvo of two three-shot bursts from a standard-issue Penance T.26.1 shotgun is capable of downing an imp, do not mistake a downed imp for a dead imp - many a warrior has been lost to a "dead" imp returning to life for one last furious barrage of claw, tooth and fire.

As the most numerous demon of Hell, so too does the imp have the most variants - ranging from the invisibility-capable prowlers and winged azazels to the "medically" inclined sacrificials, which can use their own souls to restore and resurrect greater demons upon their deaths. Imps are also somewhat unique amongst the denizens of Hell - for they possess the ability to perform the Rites of Ascension upon absorbing enough power, be that through accumulation of Hell energy over time or the gathering of souls. Once they perform the Rites, imps can transcend their forms and emerge from the Hellfire as greater beings - summoners, harvesters or archviles.


Redeemed

The Redeemed are demons who have renounced their former allegiances to Hell, and now serve the Exitium like any other human in service of the War Eternal, fighting in His name against their previous allies. Demons of higher intelligence from all of the major species have turned on Hell after seeing the Light of the Slayer, though it is true that generally speaking the Exitium has seen more defections from the more intelligent and from those who would have been placed in the higher echelons of Hell's abhorrent society. All Redeemed, once they are thoroughly questioned and examined by the Church of the Redeemed's finest agents, are placed on probation and inscribed with the Mark of the Redeemed, a yellow sigil worn in plain sight which will turn red if the demon in question attacks humans. After they have been observed for a period of time, and are deemed to be genuine in their intention to serve the Light, the demon is free to join the ranks of the Redeemed and make their way through the Exitium's society as they please.

While there are not many Redeemed, plenty have eschewed the simple life available to them and have rise to prominence in a variety of fields ranging from celebrity chef (Chagar, an imp), diplomat (Faenmoch egi Xakhal, a summoner), warrior (Balam-Assilan, a cyberdemon) and even a healer (Ceihar egi Veridan, a mixed-race harvester-archvile). Even those who choose a simple life of labour or service, however, are deeply revered and respected - for what greater proof is there of the Doom Slayer's guiding fist than to see a former enemy stand with the Exitium against the hosts of Hell? Exalted is the Doom Slayer, blessings upon His name. Amen!

Furthermore, there are examples of quasi-Redeemed amongst the less intelligence denizens of Hell, though given their limited intelligence these creatures cannot be said to truly be Redeemed. For example, it is possible to capture Lost Souls if they are contained just after spawning, and imprinted upon with holy magic before their infernal flames appear. Such creatures, known as Saved Souls, fetch a high price and are both a status symbol and a well-beloved pet by their owners. Some breeds of Pinky have also been domesticated, and while certainly not as popular as bloodsport the practice of betting on Pinky racing remains common.

 

[Desvenlafaxine]

Will this version eventually pass what you have on SB, assuming the thread doesn't get unlocked?

Click to shrink...

It looks like it'll be unlocked at some point this week (the mod going through the thread's not very quick, that's all, LOL. In any case this thread's posts are being collated so it'll reach parity pretty quick, then once that happens both forums will get updates at the same time.

So, a request:

Can I send a worlbuilding bits: a holding that specifically develops non-Argent dependent technology, and how Church of Saviour accidentally Batarian Honored Tradition of Slavery (well, technically, they work under supervision of Church of Predator, but stuff happens).

Click to shrink...

Uh, apologies, I'm not following exactly. Are you asking me about designing non-Argent weapons / a sort of slavery-related SNAFU with respect to the Church of the Saviour taking them in without realizing it? For the first one, if you're on SB just send me a PM( Fluoxetine) and I can add you to the design thread. As for the second, well, I'm not going to answer every question related to the story

 

[Desvenlafaxine]

TURIAN HIERARCHY EXECUTIVE SUMMIT PRIORITY ONE
EMERGENCY SESSION: FIRST CONTACT WITH EE [JUNE 16 - 2157]
DOCUMENT TYPE: SUMMARY, FOR IMMEDIATE DISSEMINATION TO DIVISION ONE PERSONNEL
MAXIMUM SECURITY / SUB-CLEARANCE DIVISION TWO FC-TYPE / EYES ONLY



First Contact establishment with the Exalted Exitium represents the largest potential upheaval in the security balance of the Citadel since the Krogan Rebellions, and even with the limited intelligence available to the Hierarchy at this time there is no question that the citizens of the Exitium, whether they realize it or not, pose a grave threat to galactic stability as we know it. Putting aside the matters of the supernatural and magical, the mere fact that a civilization that numbers in (at minimum) the trillions appears to be entirely composed of religious zealots is supremely concerning. Thankfully, ties have remained cordial with Spectre Saren Arterius, who was happy to give his impressions so far - and though his overall time with the representatives of the Exitium has been limited, his preliminary reports indicate that the Exitium's ambassadors (at this time) have been friendly. The problem remains however that the members of Citadel space are ill-equipped to handle an influx of citizens who are violently zealous about their "War Eternal" against the literal demonic forces of Hell, not even counting the ramifications of a society whose industrial output supposedly dwarfs the combined economic power of the Turian Hierarchy, the Asari Republics and the Salarian Union combined. We can express our hopes that the situation remains optimal - that the Exitium's citizens will take no offense at the Citadel's lack of religion - but we must face the very real threat that the optimal situation is not the one we will be met with.

Even assuming that the Exitium has grossly exaggerated the size and scope of their civilization (which, in the opinion of this session, it most likely has not) the Citadel's members are not in any way, shape or form prepared for an extended conflict against a numerically-superior foe operating from an alternate base of technology. Defensive posture orders have already been issued, but this session remains worried about the possibility that if friendly negotiations are not rapidly achieved with the Exitium, that it may attempt to exert pressure - hard or soft - on the Citadel's members to assist it in its religious crusade. While the Citadel's members thankfully have resolved the vast majority of its geopolitical tensions, on a socioeconomic level defenses are not in place to handle matters on this scale. The Department of Finance is currently working in their own session to discuss possible ramifications of contact with the Exitium as well as estimations of their industrial output; future meetings with include involved members once their preliminary reports are finished.

Regarding the Exitium's claims of magic and supernatural power, while it is our immediate reaction to doubt said claims the testimony and footage obtained from Spectre Saren Arterius are hard to discount; regardless of the degree to which the Exitium's claims of "magitechnology" are true, one cannot dispute the fact that they possess technology that is derived from a base wildly different to anything we are familiar with. Spectre Arterius has noted that the Exitium is, at least according to its representatives, fully willing to share this information without hesitation because (as stated by Lord Admiral Jon Grissom of the Exitium) "Hell does not discriminate against what species it corrupts and kills, only that its victims can be corrupted and their souls harvested to fuel their demonic affronts to the Slayer's will." Whether that statement is an implicit understanding that the gifting of this technology comes with an assurance that the Citadel's members and by extension the Hierarchy will join the Exitium's "War on Hell" has yet to be determined; the possibility that the Hierarchy may very well not be in any position to refuse an offer of such value also remains to be determined.

Spectre Arterius has also expressed concern with the "demonic runes" found aboard the Silverthread prior to its destruction, as well as the apparent ability of anyone corrupted by this "demonic" power to open portals to Hell. (Orders are already being carried out to isolate the afflicted marines in question, as well as the execution of the one soldier who the Exitium has stated to be beyond saving.) The fact that any civilian with enough drive could construct one of these so-called "gore nests" and easily get away with it thanks to the vastness of Citadel Space is not a threat to be taken lightly, and while we are fully capable of keeping this information under lockdown for the immediate future once relations are solidified with the Exitium (who apparently have been dealing with gore nests for long enough that information regarding their construction is public knowledge) keeping that information under wraps will be nigh-impossible without obvious media blackouts.

Also of note is the fact that, in a less formal conversation between Spectre Arterius and Abbess Hannah Shepard of the Exitium's Church of the Slayer (an elite religious military order), Abbess Shepard stated that "it is entirely possible that your peoples did indeed encounter the forces of Hell in its infancy; many of the primitive pre-industrial races the Exitium has come across faced limited incursions from Hell. As a matter of course...many of the ancient records that we have from our own times pre-First Age speak of demons and Hell, and...while it is just as likely that those records are the simple fears of primitive turian society you should not discount the very real chance that in those texts you will find a sliver of truth." While none of the individuals at this session are well-versed enough in ancient turian history to speak officially on the matter, Agent [REDACTED] did note during their university studies in anceint history that some experts believe the origins of the Spiritus Legatos can be found in religious warrior organizations which, based on the Agent's (admittedly far from perfect) recollection, at least superficially resemble those of the Exitium's. The matter has been deemed a matter of national interest and the Department of Defense has contacted several individuals in order to look into the matter, if only to get a better understanding of how the Exitium sees itself.

The working goals produced by this session are threefold. One, facilitate and maintain friendly relations with the Exitium for as long as possible while intelligence-gathering operations to verify the Exitium's claims are carried out. Two, accelerate defensive posture shifts both in the fields of military materiel and on an economic front (brainstorming sessions are ongoing amongst the Department of Finance.) Three, continue development of wargaming scenarios emulating worst-possible outcomes.

---

Demons (Types, Abridged, Part Two)

Hell Knights

If imps and their variants can be said to be the common foot-soldiers of Hell, Hell Knights are the first steps into Hell's elite warriors. They, like the rest of the more numerous of the demonic hosts of Hell, pre-date the First Age; today, they form what is believed to be the lowest rung of Hell's nobility. To the demonic overlords which rule the armies of Hell, an imp is little more than a number to be thrown at humanity - and though the Hell Knights are nearly as numerous as imps, they are not left to organize into hordes on their own. As their name implies, they are guardians of Hell, charged with the safekeeping of its relics and its fortresses, with defending their superiors and protecting their sacred icons.

The modern Hell Knight is a towering beast, averaging roughly fourteen feet in height; they are rust-skinned, possess a thick protective shell which covers their torso, arms and lower legs, and have powerful legs which allow the Hell Knight to leap long distances without effort. A Hell Knight without weapons should not be mistaken for an unarmed foe; they have been known to crush armoured foes with a mighty stomp, and their fists, enchanted with incredible Hell-magic, have been known to occasionally punch through even reinforced tank armour. Their eyeless faces mask their keen, magically-imbued senses; Hell Knights have excellent visual acuity, able to pick out foes not masked by both psychic and physical camouflage systems in total darkness. All this alone makes them a formidable foe - and though our ancestors were blessed that the Hell Knights refused the luxury of armament, since the Third Age the Hell Knights have accepted that survival and martial power comes before honour. Today the average Hell Knight is equipped with heavily enchanted and heavily layered full-body armour, and while most continue to refuse the dishonour of carrying a dedicated long-range weapon the most commonly seen combination of melee weapon, shield and magic means that at all but the longest ranges a Hell Knight can be extraordinarily lethal.

Hell Knights appear to prefer sorcerous magics in combat, the most common application of which is a medium-range ball of concentrated Hellfire. These Hellfire orbs are a step above the plasma-fire of the common imp; while the average armoured warrior can shrug off maybe a dozen imp projectiles before their runic shielding begins to fail, Hell Knights can achieve the same effect with two or three blasts of well-aimed Hellfire. Up close, Hell Knights can spray gouts of Hellfire, enchant their weapons to burn with unholy flames and even project their abhorrent fire in an aura around them. Their unarmoured bodies take six to seven three-shot bursts from a standard-issue Penance T.26.1 shotgun; depending on its quality, an armoured Hell Knight might take anywhere between twelve to twenty. Of course, variants of Hell Knights might pose any number of alternative threats - be sure to consult the unabridged version of this guide for more information.

Thus, when faced with a horde of imps and a handful of Hell Knights, one must take care to eliminate the Hell Knights first - imps may be fast, but they are easy to slay, while a Hell Knight is a formidable foe. Given their propensity to survive attacks from standard-issue firearms, doctrine states that the best way to eliminate the threat they pose is to charge into battle with blades drawn and magic at the ready! Remember the most holy of commands passed down by the Slayer: rip and tear, until it is done! Where bullet and plasma-charge and holy-shot fail you, your fists and your blades cannot! Even the most heavily-armoured of Hell Knights is no match for the whirling hatred of a rune-enhanced and properly-blessed chainsword or chainaxe - and all but the mightiest Hell Knights will scream in terror at the destructive force of a well-aimed gout of blessed purge-fire or blast of holy lightning. And if you are without blade, simply activate a Berserk charge and finish the job with your fists.

Barons of Hell

A Hell Knight who has survived many battles, slain many thousands of enemies and consumed their souls may find themselves lucky enough to be brought before their demonic overlords and given the right to become a Baron of Hell; such a demon undergoes a number of horrific rites and tests. Once they pass, the Hell Knight undergoes a disgusting transformation and emerges many days later from their flesh-cocoon as a Baron of Hell. (Alternatively, a demon might have the "fortune" of simply being born as a Baron of Hell.) Averaging roughly twenty-five feet in height, a Baron is a much rarer sight on the battlefield than the Hell Knight (though still a common presence in any large battle); while they do not possess any inherent abilities that the Hell Knight does not have, the Baron's larger size and massive horns pose an equivalently larger threat. Similarily, the weapons they carry and the magic they weild is generally more powerwful than that of the Hell Knights, and it is from the Barons of Hell that the demonic hosts draw upon to create some of their mightiest warriors - Cyber-barons, Cardinals, Afrits, and more. Barons, as their name implies, also occupy a higher standing within Hell's hierarchy of demons; for more information you may consult the unabridged Volumes of Unity on demonic society.



Faster-Than-Light Travel

The Exitium possesses three methods of faster-than-light travel. The most popular - and safest - form of FTL is via an Aether Rending Drive (ARD), which utilizes various sorceries, complex hermetic rituals and a small amount of rare conventional fuels to slice open a ship-sized portal into the aether (the term for the plane from which sorcery and theurgy are drawn, which occupies the gap between normal space and Hell.) From there, the ship aims itself towards the exit destination and sets the ARD to discharge at the exit point, allowing the user to travel at an approximate maximum speed of ten thousand light-years per hour; it should be noted that the maximum speed requires an incredibly large ARD charged with a wide variety of rare magic fuels, and that the average ARD travel speed is closer to roughly two thousand light-years per hour with diminishing returns as one gets closer to the maximum. Any failures with the ARD will simply result in the ship being spit back into normal space - which, while inconvenient, is a relatively safe proposition.

The Theurgic Hellcutter Drive (THD), on the other hand, occupies the other end of the spectrum in terms of speed and safety, for with a fully-charged THD, one can travel upwards of a hundred thousand lightyears in less than a microsecond. However, the fuel costs here are calculated by distance, and where the ARD uses both magic and common fuels the THD requires souls to function. Activation of the THD utilizes these souls to power an incredibly complex and arcane set of theurgic magics which require both perfect operation of the mechanics of a THD as well as intense focus by several dozen theurgy-trained mages. When operating properly, the THD uses Hell as a shortcut, forming a theurgic barrier between the ship and Hell-space while riding the astral energy planes of Hell - the source, experts believe, of Hell's ever-expanding and spatially anomalous behaviour. While speaking generally there is no shortage of demonic souls available for general fuel use within the Exitium, distances over a thousand light-years begin to experience exponential increases in both the number of souls required and the spiritual force required of each soul. Travel costs from one Sector to another might require thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of souls on par with that of a Spider Mastermind or Cyberdemon to perform properly - let alone travelling across the entire Exitium. Furthermore, a single error within the drive or a momentary lapse in focus by one of the mages powering the drive can result in catastrophe, as any interruption of the theurgic magic powering the THD will result in the ship being deposited deep in the heart of Hell. Records kept since the THD's introduction in the Twelfth Age show that only five ships which have suffered a THD failure have ever made it back into real space, and of those five only one did so without losing a majority of its crew.

The Spatial Tunnelers were discovered in year 62 of the Twenty-Sixth Age, remnants of a civilization which utilized a far different technological base than the Exitium's. (N.B: For readers originating from the Citadel who are examining this Volume as part of First Contact protocols, Spatial Tunnelers are referring to what you have called "mass relays.") Spatial Tunnelers work, as their name implies, by forming a zero-mass "tunnel" between it and a linked spatial tunneler; while the Exitium has only found eight tunnelers experts believe that an entire network of these may exist. However, given the dangers of establishing colonies due to the threat of demonic incursion wherever the Exitium establishes long-term settlements, all but two of the tunnelers have been locked down and are only opened in case of emergency or for scientific research. The Church of the Wretch has expressed interest in the construction of its own STs, and some have even floated the idea of mounting STs to our own ships and stations to create our own travel network. The future is bright, and in the name of the Slayer we shall march forward, ever-innovating to spread His word! Amen!


Demoncraft

While demons (thankfully) tend to remain within Hell to plot their foul incursions into normal space, it is not beyond the reach of the hosts of Hell to construct their own machinery. While the forces of Hell tend to shun the use of tanks and other vehicles in favour of either corrupting the Exitium's or utilizing one of their many enormous demons as equivalents, Hell lacks demons capable of spaceflight - and so it is that, on rare occasions, Hell will assemble its own demoncraft to take the fight to the forces of good in space itself. Slayer's blessings upon us, the servants of Doom tend to ignore this ability as it tends to be less practical than simply marshalling resources for incursions, but on rare occasions - usually only for the most serious of invasions - Hell will devote some of its incalculable resources to the construction of these unholy machines. Demoncraft are too rare to have any sort of rigorous standardization applied to them, but they all share common characteristics: they are generally aesthetically modelled like large, floating shrines, unenclosed and maintaining atmosphere by some manner of disgusting Hell-magic. Historically, each one has been capable of carrying a crew numbering in the hundreds of thousands, and demoncraft are covered in all manner of weaponry. They are, Slayer protect, not equipped with FTL devices; rather, they are simply spat into space via portal near a conflict zone where they are free to fire upon the Exitium's vessels and disgorge their foul contents onto a battlefield via short-range warp teleportation.

Any visitor to the Exitium who spots a demoncraft is advised to record the location of the sighting and flee the area immediately, for where a demoncraft goes a full-scale invasion is not far behind. Your report will be immediately escalated to the Church of the Predator and a hunter-killer team will be dispatched in short order to cleanse the threat.