Interlude II

For a hundred Turns, we have stalked between the stars, dimly aware that we were not the only ones to venture tentatively into the void.
We… collectively, are the Virin. I am Polemarch, differing from Gebler warriors and Geherin servitors, I am myself.
No more than a single Turn ago, a race much like yours took our planets from us, they swept us away, using weapons that turned our bodies against us. We destroyed each other, madness descending upon our worlds. And then, when we had all but become a memory, they seeded the planet…with you.
Those of us who had chosen to become void wanderers survived, but our hive mind society made sure we all felt the pain of what they did to us. Until then, we had been an almost stagnant society, almost the same as the day we discovered we could adapt some of us to travel et-celestia. We never thought we needed to change, so, we never did.
We had stability.
Then your…your progenitors, took it all away from us, forced change upon us. We… the void wanderers, hid from them, fearsome their weapons where.
They left, leaving behind races like yours as their legacy. Where they went, we do not know. We did not care.
We had never needed to know where our world was; criers there could always guide us home from the deepest depths of the cluster.
But now… it is lost to us, the only link we have to it is you.
For a time that would seem like an eternity to your race, but is not even a single spawning for our kind, we have hunted you.
We have learnt how to fight, how to destroy, how to end.
Your progenitors taught us that.
For three sheddings, I have been part of the Great Hunt, but not by my own free will. I am an abnormality within our society, I am not spawned mind bound to anything.
Therefore I am dangerous. So my kind is used as weapons.
This is my gift too you, for being the instrument of my freedom.
We… they, are coming for your world. They are following another of your ships.
When they get there, they will spread a horrible darkness across your world, drag its child down upon it, and sunder it. They will not let any of your race survive.
Rebuilding a shattered world is a simple task for our people, not because of technology, but because time is on our side, even if it takes us a turn, they will rebuild our home.
This vessel, it is perhaps your one chance of victory. They fear it…I fear it, it is protogos mes velar; Sword of the Progenitors.
Ask it how to win, it will know.
Sajuuk cannot save you now, she is too far away, and Araan will not yield his hold on her easily.
I hate my race, but I hate you, as well.
Go now; I am leaving.