OH BOY HOWDY IT'S BEEN AWHILE SINCE THIS WAS UPDATED!

Yeah sorry bois, I had a creative streak on one of my other stories, Rising Titans, and this/Sister of the Swarm kinda got put on the backburner.

I think I'm going to try and not update one thing for like 3 months again lol.

Enjoy!

Every Turian on the battlefield instinctively flinched at the sound of an air raid siren. Years of public life and military education taught them to fear that noise. This siren, albeit alien, was still recognizable. It sounded more organic, deep, almost like a roar. But knowing these aliens, it was probably another one of these beasts they kept sending.

Speaking of beasts, a turian watched as a large, quadruped animal tore out the throat of a fellow soldier, metal teeth flashing in the sun, greyish fur and pointed ears standing on end. It turned and focused on him, animalistic amber eyes and a snarl giving its full attention across the battlefield.

The creature bounded forward, the dull green armor and vest it wore rippling as it reached an impressive speed. With a great leap, the creature leapt onto the turian, and a set of metal teeth found a place on his throat.

Atlas was a good boy. Trained almost from birth as a war-hound, he and his master were inseparable. They grew up together, played together, hunted together, and now fought together. His human always protected him, and now he protected his human.

He was a wardog*. He loved the hunt, the thrill of fighting, and while he would never be as strong as any drake or dire-wolf, he did his best. His armor suit was strong, his vision perfect, his titanium teeth sharpened to perfection and alien flesh in his jaw.

"Good boy" Came the voice of Jake, his human, in the earpiece made for him. Quickly releasing his jaws from the now deceased alien, Atlas bounded back to Jake, and following him in a run just past the frontlines.

Atlas panted, fatigue starting to creep into his bones, before it was washed away by a chemical injection administered by his suit as Jake gave him a small treat, which Atlas happily ate, military grade titanium alloy teeth cracking the jawbreaker like nugget to dust with ease. His tail wagged as Jake patted his side while reloading his gun.

He loved his job.

Another air raid siren like noise echoed across the plain, causing eyes to dart to the sky, where the outlines of several aircraft were spotted. All looked the same, showing similar looking fixed wing aircraft, all with large engines situated on the back and wings of the craft

As the turians watched, dozens upon dozens of small objects began dropping out from the undersides of the ships.

"Bombing run, get down!" Came the voice from his communicator, and the turian hit the deck as the bombs hit the ground. Blasts and shockwaves shook the ground aa the earth rumbled beneath the onslaught. It lasted far longer than a turian bombing run, finally stopping after about 5 minutes.

Shakily getting to his feet, the now lone turian looked at the landscape around him, now notably lower in elevation than before. It was less like a field of craters, but more like the first few layers of soil had simply been blasted away, leaving a rough, rocky surface, decorated by shards of smoking metal, fire and destroyed vehicles.

He looked behind him, at what had once been a turian advance, now a smoldering column of rubble and fire.

Hearing the air raid siren like noise again, the turian nearly passed out when he saw something fly only a few dozen feet above him, a sound like...wingbeats. His eyes almost popped out of his skull when he saw the thing land behind him.

It was titanic, a monstrous reptile standing atop two powerful, three clawed legs. In place of arms were a pair of giant wings, easily measuring over 50 feet. Its body was large and bulky, showing massive lumps of muscle covered by thick, brownish tan scales. Its long, thick tail ended in a wide paddle, with a single large spike topping it. Its relatively small head topped its massive muscular neck and torso, showing a small, stocky maw filled with large, conical teeth, situated in front of a set of bright eyes that burned with a primal savagery.

Its upper neck and back was covered in rounded, slightly recessed brown scales, which looked about as protective as any modern tank armor. Underneath both its neck and tail were innumerable scales, which looked suspiciously like bombs, hanging underneath the creature. Straddling the creatures neck was a single bipedal alien, dressed in armor and an exosuit, the glowing orange visor of the helmet staring down at the turian.

Acting on reflex, the turian snapped his rifle up to the alien, only for his aim to be thrown by the giant reptile moving abruptly. The flesh in between the beasts scales began to glow with a fiery orange hue, as did the large scales underneath its chin and tail.

The creature roared, producing that organic air raid siren noise which had permeated the battlefield naught ten minutes ago, a sound so loud and deafening that the poor turian was forced to cover his ears, as a few of the large, glowing scales dropped from the creature, then promptly exploded after hitting the ground.

"Hands in the air alien." The armored soldier atop the beast vocalized, a robotic voice coming through the speakers as it raised a large, bulky assault rifle. Slowly, the turian complied.

Alzerus snorted derisively to himself as he stomped through the halls of the terran base. As commander of the outpost, he had decided to personally drop by the interrogation chambers.

He was a wyvern*, and as such, he was a proud being. He took pride in his rich, cobalt blue metallic scales, and his long, ridged tail, tipped with a wickedly pointed arrowhead. He looked ahead with two navy blue eyes, set into the draconic skull that topped his long, serpentine neck.

The talons of his anisodactyl feet clicked against the floor, and the three fingered pseudo-hands on the ends of his wings helped him keep balance. Truth be told, he enjoyed the contrast viscerally. He had the body of a great beastly reptile, dagger like teeth and long, powerful jaws. Layered head to toe in 30 feet of thick, cobalt scales and able to fly with a nearly 20 foot wingspan.

But this monstrous appearance belied a savage sophont, true sapience, and a brain intelligent enough to earn him a position as a military commander. As was typical of cobalt dragons*.

Using the talons of the first digit and opposable thumb on his right wing, Alzerus opened a door to an interrogation, relishing the look of horror on the aliens face as he entered.

"Oh spirits…" The alien practically wailed, slumping down in its chair, "You're going to feed me to a beast…"

…

From deep within both the interrogator and Alzerus came a small chuckle, which quickly blossomed into a booming laugh. After calming down, Alzerus wiped a single tear from his eye with the tip of his tail.

"Contrary to popular belief," Alzerus spoke with a metallic voice, "the thulium in your carapace is not ideal to eat."

"D-did that thing talk?"

"That thing," Alzerus deepened his tone to accent the word, "is the commander of this base, alien." Alzerus shook his head like a dog for a second, the draconic equivalent of scratching ones beard.

"And I'd like you to know that one of my special abilities is manipulating magnetic fields," The wyvern commander spoke, as the metal tables and chairs began to slowly move toward him. He slowly stalked forward, before raising his head up to about 10 feet, and placing a wing-hand on the aliens shoulder, "And I do believe Thulium is magnetic. So are we going to do this the easy way?"

"Or the painful way?"

"Of course it wouldn't have hurt," Alzerus snorted as he and the interrogator left the room, "removing trace amounts of a single element from a hardened carapace would be painless, even if I was able to do it. My breath attack doesn't have the fine control for that level of precise manipulation."

"Well you bluff worked perfectly sir," The interrogator replied, removing his smooth, reflective polymer helm, giving his elven features some air, "that Turian, despite his low rank, was very cooperative."

"Indeed," the colbalt wyvern rumbled in his metallic voice, "though he must have had quite a scare on the battlefield. He'll have quite a story to tell some day."

"Aye," replied the elven interrogator, polymer helmet underneath his arm, "not many people walk away from an angry Bazelgeuse* alive."

"But focusing on the situation at hand," Alzerus intoned, his slit pupiled eyes narrowing as a precession of Turian prisoners were led past him, "we have a problem."

"Yea, I felt it too." The elf walking alongside the wyvern reaffirmed, just as the ground began to shake all around them, nearly throwing the two off balance

Holding Cell onboard the T.E. Zicron

"This one did not give the order for an orbital bombing." Trakt stated, withdrawing his psychic powers from the now unconscious Turian and turning to the captain.

"Damn," Emelia growled, purple feathered wings quivering in cold rage, "I was hoping to execute it."

"Even so I would have sided with you ma'am," Trakt responded, folding his hands together, his tentacles curling up in amusement, "but this one is also a rather high ranking military officer. Him living is most probably for the best."

"How so?" The purple haired avariel* asked, "You already probed him, what else do we need from this sack of shit?"

"He's the most likely candidate to be able to force a surrender." The illithid responded, explaining his reasoning, "he's the highest ranking Turian we have right now."

"Mmm…" Emelia thought, considering her options, "Bring him to the bridge and wake him up. We'll have him call a surrender, and I don't care if I need to call in a necromancer* to reanimate him and physically him."

The Bridge of the T.E. Zicron

Awaken

Desolas bolted awake at the sound of a foreign voice in his head. He looked around, shifting in the thick, metal bindings he was encased in. He seemed to be in the bridge of the alien ship, a large spacious room with a wall of digital screens facing the Turian vessels, and banks of computer terminals lining the walls.

While he couldn't see it, behind him was a large swiveling chair, obviously for the captain, and now that he was looking down, he noticed that he (as well as the chair) was on a separate platform, sectioned off from the rest of the room by a large, ten foot wide trench, which was filled with yet more terminals, with yet more aliens working them.

"Head up alien," Came a deep, bassy voice, almost Krogan in volume, "seems you're awake, thanks Trakt."

"It is my pleasure, Commander Monty." The warbly voice of Trakt spoke from behind Desolas. Focusing on the more immediate speaker, Desolas looked up at this, Commander Monty.

He had, as almost expected, the basic shape of these aliens. Somewhat similar to an Asari in basic facial structure while being decidedly masculine. His face was calm and composed, with an almost lazy and sluggish look, but an easily seen cold rage simmering behind his brownish tan eyes.

On his cheeks were two roughly triangular patches of scales, colored the same brownish tan of his eyes. His ears, something these aliens all seemed to possess, were long and pointed, sticking out of his messy brownish hair. Just like the patches on his cheeks, the ears were covered in brownish tan scales, each scale so incredibly fine and small it looked more like oddly colored skin.

He was wearing the same, grey uniform as the rest of the crew, with markings and patches on the collar and chest that must have designated him as an officer, the outfit complete with a small copper or brass tag. The tag read something in an alien script, most probably a form of identification. Unbeknownst to the turian, it read; Commander Monty, Lamia*: Reticulated Python*.

While Desolas was trying to figure out what those words meant, a deep, rumbling hiss drifted out from Monty, and a long, forked tongue flicked around, like it was tasting the air, before it shot back into his mouth.

His gaze drifting downward, the Turian realized this thing had the body of a gigantic reptile attached to it at the waist. It was almost like a baby thresher maw was in the process of eating him. Absolutely massive, easily reaching past thirty feet, and over a foot in diameter at the widest. Just the way it moved, slowly, hypnotically, made it clear that this was a powerful body, made of solid, rippling muscle and scale that would have no trouble snapping Desolas' spine with a twitch.

A calming and beautiful pattern covered its hide, with a repeating series of deep brownish tan markings, the scales in between those a solid black, making it look almost like a sentient, mottled tree trunk (and with roughly the same dimensions).

The giant reptile reared up as it approached him, giving Desolas a glimpse of wide, tanish cream colored ventral scales. Another deep, rumbling hiss snapped Desolas out of his trance, and he focused on the face of the creature.

"General Desolas," The alien spoke in a calm, soothing tone, offset slightly by the cold hatred in his eyes, "perfect timing."

"Commander Monty." He growled back, baring his teeth in defiance. In response, the giant reptile grinned, giving Desolas a glimpse of four white fangs, two in the lower jaw, two in the upper, both putting the teeth turians possessed to shame.

"Judging from those fangs," the general put his deductive skills to the test, "He might have a venomous bite, should probably stay away from the head."

"What's so funny Trakt?" Monty said, turning to the being behind Desolas, "He's not cracking jokes in his head is he?"

"No commander," came the warbly sounding voice again, "he took one look at your fangs and assumed you were venomous."

"Are you...reading my mind?" Desolas said, then shouted in just and understandable fear.

"I'm not," Monty put a hand on his chest, before the section of floor Desolas was kneeling on rotated, turning around and letting him see the one named Trakt, "he is."

In a way, this thing was even stranger. It stood at about six feet, clad once again in the utilitarian grey uniforms, but that's where the similarities stopped. This thing had a large, bulbous head, hairless and covered in light blue flesh, which looked to have a slick, almost slimy texture. It had no visible nose, two holes on the side of its head in place of ears, and a mouth hidden by three long tentacles. Its long, slim arms were topped with four fingered hands, one of which was opposable, all of them tipped in wicked claws.

"Hello there," The thing waved, its tentacles shifting as it spoke, alluding to a mouth hidden beneath it, "you're quite horrified, aren't you?"

Feeling the repulsion practically wafting off the turian, Trakt chortled, mouth tentacles curling in amusement.

"But I am not the one you should be scared of, Desolas," He said, as the turian officer found himself wrapped in the scaly coils of the lamia behind him, the section looped around him effortlessly lifting the soldier off the ground, chains and all, "that honor belongs to Commander Monty."

"Ssssssssssss…" Came the rumbling hiss of the giant alien, as it shifted to hold the turian upside down, "you know, I was hoping I'd get to execute you myself."

"Had I been allowed to, I would've gotten...personal...with it," he shifted closer, his large, scaly coils letting him glide across the polished metal floor, "Before the official reports came in, I was just planning to swallow you whole, give me a nice meal and you a slow death."

"Really?" Desolas grunted out, feeling the aliens coils tighten around him, "You would eat another sentient alive?"

"Oh, not alive, no," The coils became tighter, "I'd crush you first, squeeze you so hard you carapace would shatter and your eyes would pop out of your skull."

With the raw strength the turian was feeling as he futilly struggled against the lamias lower body, he wasn't one to doubt he was capable of following through on his threat.

"Pythons* are constrictors, and as a Reticulated Python, I feel I have a reputation to uphold." He said, tightening his grip with each word, until both he and Desolas heard his carapace and bones creaking.

"Commander Monty! Put him down." Came the stern voice of the Captain of the T.E. Zicron, General Emelia Veit. The purple haired avariel stalked towards the black and brown lamia, an angry expression on her features, but a proud and almost encouraging look in her glowing blue eyes, the glow becoming softer and more inviting when she looked at the giant snake person.

"Darli-General Veit!" Monty stammered, quickly releasing pressure and placing the turian general back on the ground. He slithered away, a sheepishly awkward expression mixed with a touch of fear came onto his face, "I apologize."

"You can apologize later," She said, as he slithered next to her, jumping a little when she grabbed his back a little low down, "personally."

"Y-yes ma'am!" He stammered, a soft reddish hue spreading across his cheeks, much to the chagrin of the be-tentacled Trakt.

Seeing this obviously stronger and larger alien being essentially cowed into submission spoke volumes of the alien general. Being able to shatter the calm and almost laid back attitude of Commander Monty was a sign of strength.

"Now." She turned to Desolas, electric blue eyes hardening from an affectionate gaze to a cold, hateful stare as they went from looking at Commander Monty to General Desolas. "You."

"Yes, me." Desolas said, agreeing for simplicity's sake, panic starting to build as a growl started to build in the throat of the winged alien, before a quick whisper from the giant snake person next to her visibly calmed her down. She took a deep breath, and exhaled.

"Surrender." It was a command, there was no doubt about it. It was not a suggestion, or an option, or a request. There was no room for haggling, and Desolas knew it.

"Surrender, and you live. The turians held on board this and our other warship will live. If there is a ship out there that hasn't already been blown to ash," She jabbed a finger to one of the view screens, showing a veritable field of turian warship wreckage, and even now these alien vessels were blasting apart the few that dared to still roam the starts with either a hail of green projectiles, or slow firing, colossal spinal cannons, "it will be boarded instead of atomized. The two thousand soldiers still planetside and breathing will live. Your call."

Planetside: Shanxi

Two thousand. Out of nearly half a million soldiers landed on this alien world, two thousand were left after 2 days. They were out of food, supplies, armor units, support, and hope. Each day was nothing but alternating sustained bombings and crippling infantry assaults, while the nights were nothing but snipers taking potshots and commanders, targeting artillery strikes, and soldiers being eaten by giant monsters.

Not enough emphasis could be placed on the use of heavy artillery. If a soldier was caught so much breathing too loud, they were triangulated and an entire camp was wiped off the map in a minute.

Frankly, the call for surrender from a captured general in orbit was met with celebration, and as if summoned by it, the alien armies showed up nearly immediately. Soldiers were removed from command tents and disarmed, while stark white hovercraft emblazoned with red crosses in a circle loaded themselves up with wounded turians and took off.

The officers who were still alive were separated from the remaining, uninjured soldiers, and the two groups, numbering 15 and around 900 respectively, were loaded onto a separate series of vehicles.

As expected, Jorus gulped in fear as he was loaded onto a solid black vehicle. It was a monstrous, six wheeled, armor plated, utilitarian vehicle. There were no windows in the back, just two rows of ten seats, each loaded with a different Turian officer, the remaining five taken up by a small group of alien soldiers, each holding a large, bulky assault rifle.

These soldiers, with their solid black armor suits, reflective polymer visors, and lack of any distinguishing marks or symbols, were most probably some form of black ops division, specifically assigned to this vehicle.

For over an hour, the passengers rode in almost complete silence, the only noise coming from the dull hum of the vehicles engines and rumbling of wheels on the ground.

Eventually, the rough ground transitioned to something smoother, and the vehicle stopped shortly after. With a clank and pneumatic hiss, the back door swung open, revealing something resembling a holding bay. It was a huge space, probably a hastily converted hanger, filled with turian soldiers, each divided into groups of 20, confined to surprisingly reasonably sized areas. Each area was sectioned off by two rows of 10 foot chain link fencing, topped with large spools of barbed wire.

Seeing the barbed wire, Jorus shuddered, especially as he glimpsed a few with small splatters of turian blood on them. Not only was barbed wire overly intimidating, it had been outlawed by the council after the Krogan Rebellion for causing unnecessary harm to combatants and civilians.

The hundred or so alien soldiers guarding and patrolling the giant building only served to make the ones escorting the officers more intimidating. The general guards were more like the ones seen on the battlefield, with camouflage uniforms and gunmetal grey exo suits, all bearing serial numbers, identification and rankings on them. They all wore similar helmets bearing either a series of eye slits or an angular, geometric visors that softly glowed a variety of colors.

As Jorus and the other officers were guided past the fenced off soldiers, he got his first glimpse of what the aliens looked like under their helmets. He saw a single alien not wearing its helmet, and actively conversing with a turian soldier on the other side of the fence. It seemed to be a remarkably well mannered conversation, with the alien cracking a few grins and the turian flaring his mandibles in something resembling a mutual understanding approaching a friendship.

The alien had a face similar to an asari, with two eyes, a nose, and a mouth. The distinctly feminine (at least going off of asari standards) looking alien had skin a very dark shade of grey, almost black, that looked almost volcanic in nature. It, or her, eyes had black scleras, and irises that glowed like hot coals, casting a reddish glow on the face of the turian she was talking to, small tongues of fire occasionally leaping out of the corners of her eyes.

The top of the aliens skull was covered in a thick mane of pitch black fur, which trailed down to the aliens mid back as a wild, wavy mess. Two triangular, pointed furry ears poked out the top of the aliens head, which twitched and shifted as the turian spoke to her. After a moment or two, the turian said something that must have been particularly funny, because the female alien broke out into laughter, the turian responding with his own after a second. Re-composing herself, the alien smiled at the turian, showing a wicked set of canines that seemed more appropriate on a varren.

"What is that?" Jorus muttered, mostly to himself.

"Hellhound*." He nearly jumped out of his skin when one of the black suited aliens answered him, a digitalized and robotic voice coming from right behind him.

"Hellhound?" Jorus asked, hoping for a little elaboration.

"Massively simplified? Fire wolves." The alien responded, not breaking pace, "They're fast, strong, passionate, and very stubborn. Don't fuck with 'em."

Sensing the conversation end, Jorus decided to keep quiet after that. After all, he was planning on living through this nightmare.

Absurd as it may have sounded, Opiter was rather enjoying his time in 'prison'. He'd been treated well, had enough space to move around, and wasn't looked at like an animal.

He'd learned a few things from one of the soldiers, a female named Jayyeln who said she was something called a 'Hellhound', apparently some kind of 'spicy wolf', which he eventually figured out was pretty much a furry varren analogue.

Among the things he'd learnt was some basic information about the aliens they'd attacked. Apparently, what the turian higher ups though was a fledgling species homeworld, was in fact a newly established colony of a giant, militarized dominion, which he had no doubt calling a galactic superpower (lmao title drop), if this was what they considered light reinforcements to a far out and brand new colony.

This Terran Empire, as he'd learned it was called, contained an aggressively infuriating amount of species, with a dazzling array of diversity. Even just looking around, Opiter could see Terrans (Jayyeln had insisted he stop calling everyone 'that alien') with horns, wings, tails, two legs, four legs, a few dozen legs (something called a 'Centipede'*, he'd nearly screamed like a child when he first saw it), or even no legs.

Opiter had been talking to Jayyeln for a while, just learning some basic information about the Terran Empire, most of which she (Opiter had been told about their generally two-gendered and sexually dimorphic species) had readily offered up, only refusing to give him real military information, which he honestly couldn't get mad at.

And the fact that she was real easy on the eyes and super fun to talk to made getting mad impossible. Opiter had been somewhat ousted back home as what he would refer to as 'someone who is attracted to asari', something that for some reason didn't sit well with his family on Palaven. Perhaps it was that general attraction to the asari form and basic facial structure that did it, but Jayyeln was very attractive to him. And of course her mannerisms were adorable. She had this big smile every time he made a joke, and these wide, expressive eyes that glowed a soft red, which managed to calm him down even with occasional flames jumping out of them. Her furry ears would twitch a little when he started talking, and her fluffy tail would start wagging whenever she talked about something she liked.

All in all, she was cute and fun to be around, which made it even better when she kept coming back to chat with him. Even the next day, she came to inform him that they'd worked around the genetic issues surrounding food. Apparently, even with well over a hundred different species in the Empire, some originating from planets other than their homeworld, it was amazing that none of them were dextro-amino based.

As they were chatting away, the noise of a Terran aircraft landing drew Opiters attention, but he pushed it out of his mind, and went back to his conversation with Jayyeln, who was currently trying to explain the difference between the different types of dragons to him.

A couple of minutes later Jayyeln pointed out an example to him.

"That's a wyvern," She said, his eyes following her hand to the beast in questions, "see how he's only got two front limbs?"

"Yeah I," Opiter had to do a double take, "Is it-err, he, wearing a uniform?"

"Yes, yes he is Opiter," She giggled, "that's Alzerus, he's the base commander. He's a cobalt wyvern."

"Makes sense," He said, looking at the deep cobalt scales Alzerus possessed, "Who's that next to him?"

The being next to Alzerus somehow came off as more intimidating. Possessing a basic body structure known as humanoid*, this thing stood at least at a monstrous eight feet tall.

It strode forward on a set of bulky, muscular digitigrade legs, a pair of three clawed feet topped with wicked bone-white talons topping each of the webbed feet, the membrane between the digits glowing a bright, neon blue. It was dressed in a pair of solid black combat pants, which had a pair of slate grey shin and knee guards attached.

At the Terrans waist was a thick, brown leather belt weighed down by numerous pouches and bags. Coming out the back and sides of the belt was a waistcloth, which had a black outside and a light blue inside, and came down to the aliens mid shin.

Trailing out from behind was its tail, a solid 10 feet of muscle and black scale. The dark, black scales were marked with a series of blue scales arranged in stripes, each blue scale giving off a soft blue glow. The end of the tail was tipped in a large, black caudal fin, like some kind of land dwelling shark. The topside of the beings tail was taken up by a large, raised bony ridge that was made up of individual 'pieces', that looked like black, rounded bones, the tips of which were glowing a vivid electric blue, while the underside was layered in a series of glowing blue ventral scales.

From the waist upwards, the alien wasn't wearing anything besides its scales. The bony ridge increased in size as it ran up its tail, then up its back, reaching its largest ridge 'bone' between the shoulders, a single ridge that measured about a foot, before the whole ridge dropped off in size exponentially and faded by the time it reached the neck.

Just like the tail, the aliens back was layered in a hide of dark, black scales, broken up by symmetrical patches of glowing neon blue. This coat of scales ended st the aliens chest, the scales giving way to lightly tanned skin just before the aliens pectoral muscles and abdominal muscles, framing the front of its body.

Its long, muscular arms were covered similarly, with solid black scale, marred by two patches of glowing blue on the shoulders. The aliens large, slim hands were both covered in innumerable black scales, and slightly webbed, the webbing glowing the now signature neon blue. The outer edge of the aliens forearm, from its wrists to its elbows, was a much smaller, but no less notable bony ridge.

Gripped in the aliens right hand was some sort of weapon handle, resembling a between a giant sword handle and a miniature quarterstaff. Despite it only looking like a shaft of metal, Opiter knew it was something much, much more dangerous.

About where the largest ridge was, between the shoulders, were two extra limbs. Arranged like wings, and structure like wings, the only difference was that where most had, well...wings, these were tipped with a pair of tentacles. Each 'wing tentacle' was about six feet long and solid black, the undersides glowing that same bright, neon blue.

Now that Opiter saw its face, the turian could easily tell that this thing was a male, did Opiter realize that he must have been furious about something. His mouth was contorted into a snarl, razor sharp canines glinting dangerously in the artificial light. His face had two patches of roughly triangular scales on his cheeks, each patch having scales so small they looked more like smooth, black colored skin.

Sticking out the side of the aliens head was a pair of ears, which looked more like the fins of an aquatic creature, the interior fin material glowing neon blue.

His long, wild and windblown hair was a shade of blue so dark, it was almost black, and he had six, long neon blue tentacles growing and glowing from his head. Situated like a six on a face of dice, the first two started at the top of his skull, with a set behind that, and a third set right behind his ears. The first two didn't follow the pattern of his hair, and instead of being vaguely shifted towards the right, the four tentacles ran down his neck and stopped around his upper back. The two that came from behind his ears fell past his neck and down his chest, stopping halfway down his pectorals, where they shifted ambiently and curled and uncurled slightly as he walked.

But all of this glow was put to shame by his eyes, which were a shade of neon blue so bright and concentrated, it was like two balls of lightning were rolling around in his eyes.

And speaking of lightning, the terran had tendrils of blue electricity leaping around its form. Arcs and coils of lightning jumping from the torso to his arms, and between his wings. His head tentacles were constantly sending fingers of lightning all around, running up and the head tendrils, running through his hair, and of course, jumping up and down the tips of the bony ridge, the glowing tips acting as miniature lightning rods and setting the entire creature aglow in a harsh blue light.

"Holy shit that's Zeus Lannestar!" Jayyeln practically squealed, jumping up and down in excitement, "He's one of the War Lords of Terra*!"

"War lords?" Opiter asked, a little confused.

"Think of them as a mix between Generals, Specters, and your Primarchs," She explained, in a way that somehow made sense to him, "they're the best of the best."

"What's so special about this, Zeus?" The turian asked, which the Hellhound was fine with answering.

"Well for starters he's the youngest War Lord ever appointed, only about a thousand years old," She said, choosing to ignore the strangled cry of disbelief that came from Opiter, "he's also the first War Lord that isn't a species native to Terra."

"Really?" He asked, still recovering from that casual age bombshell, "Then what is he? Cause he looks like he fits right in with the rest of you."

"Zeus is a Shear* Frostbite Kraken**, from the Turtur Petra System*." She started. "In short, they're 8 foot psychic amphibious reptiles with lightning powers that can fly. So don't go picking fights with any, 'cause they can and will literally tear you in half."

"Hmmm." Opiter thought to himself, digesting the new information, "Sounds like good advice."

"While 900 and change in foot soldiers and 15 officers is more than we had before," Zeus said, walking next to Commander Alzerus, "I still don't think that will be enough to bargain a ceasefire with this council."

"And I share your opinions, Lord Lannestar," Alzerus intoned as the two made their way to the door on the other side of the converted hangar, "but I think our field performance should be enough to make them listen at the least."

"Mmm." Zeus responded, vaguely agreeing. "What of their motives? Do we have anything concrete yet?"

"Yes Sir," Alzerus replied as they reached the door, "something about galactic law enforcement. According to them, activating these so called 'Mass Relays'," The wyvern explained, momentarily standing up on his hind legs to give air quotes, "is a criminal offense, and they assumed us to be slavers.

"And after we retaliated they assumed the worst." The frostbite kraken finished, his expression softening by a fraction, and his ambient lightning dying down.

"At least in the beginning they did. Our most recent questionings revealed that higher up officers soon became aware the colony was not a pirate base, but once they figured that out, they decided to attempt to force us into becoming a client race."

"So they thought Shanxi was our homeworld?" Zeus growled, his lightning returning in full force at the news they planned to force a world under his protection into servitude. He was charged with the defense of this world, as it fell under the territory he was assigned to as War Lord, and now he was furious. The first new colony coming out of his sector, and an alien race just decided they wanted it? At his inauguration on Terra, Zeus had sworn to defend his charge, the newly christened Lannestar Sector, to the best of his ability.

He wanted blood.

Planetside: Shanxi

Shanxi High Command Base

Communications Room

"Rise, War Lord Zeus." Came the booming voice of Dread Lord Acererak, High King of the Terran Empire. The aforementioned frostbite kraken rose from his kneeling position and spoke.

"Thank you my lord," He said, before giving his report, "Approximately 44 Terran hours ago, a small fleet of alien craft entered the Salem System through the Mass Relay. Immediately, these aliens opened fire on the defending fleet in orbit around Shanxi. After 38 hours of fighting, both the planetside and orbital invasions were pacified, and all prisoners transferred to Shanxi."

"What do we know about these aliens?" Said the High King, the Holographic Communicator* showing the Dread Lord stand up and begin pacing.

"These aliens, known as Turians, are a highly militaristic and war driven race, essentially operating as strongmen who prefer to shoot first and never ask questions, I have forwarded you their biology reports, as I felt it was not immediately as important."

"Tell me," The High Lord of Terra said, his voice becoming a little cautious, "do you think these, Turians, are the Reapers?"

"No my lord," He answered, eliciting a sigh of relief from the Lich, "I considered it, but they just don't match up with the Prothean warnings and descriptions, and their motives are entirely dissimilar."

"Good." Acererak spoke, sitting back down, "I am glad I could trust you with this, Lord Zeus."

"Thank you my Lord," Zeus said, bowing again, "I will not disappoint."

"No you will not." Came the voice of the lich king, sending shivers down the frostbite krakens spine. "That is why I appointed you warlord. But moving on, I have approved a diplomatic attachment to accompany you into council space."

"With your permission, I would like to request a small expeditionary force, incase things don't work out."

"Frankly it would be out of character if you didn't," Acererak chuckled, "In addition, Lord Kaizer and Lord Ridley will be joining you."

"While I thank you for providing more forces to me, I'm not sure that Lord Kaizer is the best choice for this."

"Why is that?"

"Well, this Citadel Council has a documented history of AI discrimination, and...well…" Zeus trailed off as Acererak nodded in agreement.

"A valid point. But if we are to have the council ally with us, they will have to work through it." The lich said, his voice suddenly becoming much more grim and serious.

"The reapers are coming. And we need every advantage we can possibly get. The possibility of losing an alliance with a government like the council is not something either of us can afford."

"I understand, my Lord," Zeus said, rising from his kneeling position to move to shut off the communicator, "I will leave as soon as my detachment arrives."

"Good luck, Lord Zeus," Acererak said as he too motioned to deactivate the hologram, "I look forward to your next report."

Council Space

Approaching The Citadel

Onboard the T.E. Hearthstar

"Lord Zeus," Came the voice of a somewhat nervous sounding ensign, who jumped a little when the krakens crackling blue eyes focused on the rather small half-elf, "w-we are receiving communications from the T.E. Blade Runner."

"Put them through, and get me a line to the Edge of Tomorrow."

"Yes sir!"

In only a second or two, Zeus heard the sound of Lord Ridley and Lord Kaizer patching in from their flagships, the T.E. Blade Runner and the T.E. Edge of Tomorrow.

"Zeus, we're just about in range of the citadel." Said Lord Kaizer, with a rich voice that sounded like it had an almost synthesized tinge. "I was thinking of giving the honor to you."

"Appreciate it Kaizer," Zeus said as he began preparing to order the transmission, "Thoughts, Ridley?"

"Look man, it was your colony that got attacked," Came the laid back voice of Lord Ridley, sounding edged and almost metallic, "I can't take that away from you."

"Thanks." The kraken said, cracking a small smile as he gave the order to broadcast.

"It's showtime."

Council Space

The Citadel

The Alluring Asari

Wrex grunted as he threw back the rest of a bottle of Ryncol. He'd just finished up a job in the downtown and wound up in this grimy, run down bar to have a drink. His gaze drifted to the television screen, where a talk show interview of a Turian military leader was playing.

The asari interviewing the turian was asking about some rumors that the turians were invading batarian space, and making a few attempts to link it to the sudden departure of a turian expeditionary fleet into unknown space.

Just as the krogan mercenary put down the money for the drink and made to leave, both the speakers and the television screen cut out, much to the confused and annoyed murmurs of the bars patrons.

After only a moment, the screen lit back up, with a strange symbol on a solid black background. The symbol was composed of a circle, and a small cross inside it. The horizontal bars of the cross had a small dot between it and the circle's edge, while the top and lower bars of the cross were tipped with what looked like a U, and another, much smaller circle with a line running three quarters of the way through it.

The symbol was a solid, bright green, and set Wrex on edge just looking at it. About 10 seconds after the symbol appeared on the screen, a booming voice came from the speakers all around the bar.

"Attention Citadel residents," it said, "This is a broadcasted transmission from the T.E. Hearthstar."

Wrex ran outside, shotgun in hand, looking for a threat to neutralize. As the transmission continued, he realize that every single screen and speaker was playing the message, drowning out anything else.

"The Terran Empire requests a meeting for negotiations to begin."

Maybe the rest of the day would be interesting.

"We await your response."

Codex

Wardog: The term used to define members of the canine family that participate in military operations. Also known as k-9 troops.

Wyvern: A term used for the members of the reptilians known as dragons. Wyverns are characterized by having two legs, and two large wings, totalling four limbs.

Cobalt Dragons: A species of strong and rare dragons with metallic cobalt scales, above human intelligence and a powerful magnetic beam as a breath attack.

Bazelgeuse: A species of large flying wyvern, possessing large, albatross like wings, a bulky frame, and a pair of organs underneath their neck and tail that grow and produce explosive scales. Their way of fighting and signature siren like roar was the inspiration for the Terran class of ships known as bombers.

Avariel: Also known as winged elves or sky elves, avariel are basically lightweight (hollow boned) elves with wings. Their feathers naturally come in shades of brown, tan, speckled, white, and a few more assorted varieties, many Avariel commonly dye their feathers in hair, for both fashion and distinction.

Necromancer: A magic user who practices necromancy, the school of magic that specializes in death, both causing and reversing it. Until the rise of Lord Acererak, it was considered a form of forbidden magic, and as such many users were executed, only to have been (somewhat ironically) reanimated by Acererak to continue their work.

Lamia: The term used to categorize several species of Terran Empire inhabitants, having humanoid (elvish, dwarvish, etc.) top half, and the lower half of a large snake. They are mostly cold blooded, and take on the characteristics of the snakes they are named after.

Python: Large, non-venomous snakes that kill prey through constriction. Often very large. Similar to Boa Constrictors and Anacondas.

Reticulated Python: One of the largest non-magical snakes to live in the Terran Empire (Second only to the Titanoboa), Reticulated Pythons live naturally in rainforests, and are legendary constrictors. They can grow up to 30 feet, but do not often pass 20. Reticulated Python Lamia will grow up to 40 feet, but average around 35 feet.

Hellhound: A naturally magical subspecies (or variant, depending on who you ask), of a werewolf. Possessing dark grey skin and flaming red eyes, hellhounds have multiple lupine characteristics such as large, padded paws, lupine tails, and triangular ears. Hellhounds are known for being very emotional and passionate, on top of incredibly strong, fast, and skilled in pyromancy.

Centipede: An arthropod possessing a very long, segmented body, and a large amount of legs. Aside from common animal centipedes (measuring only a few inches in length), there are also beast-kin centipedes, and are, in offensively oversimplified terms, like a centipede and a lamia had a baby. They have humanoid upper bodies, and the lower body of a massive centipede.

Shear: A planet in the Turtur Petra System, known for having extremely hostile, non-sapient life forms including the Goliath (Shear), Kraken (Shear), Behemoth (Shear), Gorgon (Shear), and Wraith (Shear). Sapient life only developed once the Terran Empire had an established presence due to the Magi-Sapience Effect (TBD).

Turtur Petra System: A system in the territory of the Terran Empire. Mostly known for having the planet Shear (Turtur Petra 2) in its possession.

Shear Kraken: A being originally native to the planet Shear, the Shear Kraken is a large, semi-aquatic reptile with limited natural electricity and psychic abilities, the latter of which it uses to fly on its signature tentacle wings. Even before sapience, they were notably intelligent for animals, and should be only approached with the utmost caution. The beast-kin variants are similar, and possess similar characteristics. The main difference is the formers documented natural talent and hyper conductivity to magic, especially lightning and electricity.

Frostbite Kraken (Shear): A subspecies of Shear Kraken. The Frostbite Kraken (Shear) possesses a much more pronounced neon blue glow, as well as the presence of numerous light, neon blue scales and markings. These Shear Kraken are incredibly resistant to cold temperatures.

War Lords of Terra: The absolute highest attainable rank of military. As of writing, only 42 exist, each personally appointed by High Lord Acererak. They are supreme commanders of the Terran Military, and each oversees their own territory when not at war. They are appointed on merits of intelligence, achievements, tactical abilities, efficiency and proficiency. Raw strength and power is not a factor, but the enhancements they are given as part of their new position makes them nearly unchallengeable in direct combat.

Holographic Communicator: The Holographic Communicator is a 2 way communication system, consisting of two combination projector/camera type device that streams an almost real time signal to the opposing communicator, which is then projected into a hologram.