These are the works of K’shirak the Chronicler
Who tells the story of the proud Noxxin Aurorii people,
Back when there were eight planets in the dark night sky
And the galaxy was young.
In the beginning, there was the Deep Sleep
Which enveloped the nothing
And was the nothing.
But slowly, the Dream began,
Spinning out of the empty. This first Dream
Formed the elements and planets,
Birthplace of life. For these stayed not still, but revolved
On their own, and from the spinning produced
The four races:
First were the mighty Aurorii,
Fashioned from stardust and light.
They stood proud, with bright eyes.
Next made were the Syrionhes (Syrions),
Made from pure energy and cold metal,
Workers of harmony and music.
Third spun out from the Dream
Were the Arikna’e,
A thin people, formed of smoke and ice
And pure air.
Last of all, the race of Men
Crawled forth from that which remained.
They were shaped from earth,
And fire, and many things besides,
So that there are many shapes and kinds of them.
After this were made the Burriks, and stately C’aani,
And all the other animals.
Soon after was the Dream ended.
At first, eons passed in deathless peace.
Noxxin, Syrionhe, Arikna’e and Man
Signed the great pact.
But the Deep Sleep was not to be cheated!
It set race on race upon each other,
In tireless war.
The Syrionhes began to build profane, unnatural things.
The Arikna’e practiced strange and terrible rites
In their caves below the surface
And men, with pride unheard of, rose against
Their fellows with brazen weapons.
Such was how the Last War began.
Battle lasted centuries,
Each side suffering loss, their numbers dwindling,
Until finally, they would suffer no more.
The four Riders were built.
Such great machines, massive and powerful -
Each race had one.
These were the weapons of war
Designed, destined to end the enemy.
They threatened to destroy the galaxy,
So terrible were they,
But none greater than the Rider Ascendant (Dro’Chiar)
Whom the Noxxin built
With the dark power to destroy planets whole.
The Deep Sleep was pleased,
And looked down upon his handiwork.
Soon all would return to him.
But such was not to be.
The Arikna’e unleashed their Rider first,
Poor fools, on themselves, by mistake.
They were stricken with plague, disease
So foul - evil - it twisted them
Mind and soul.
Though they died all, they yet lived.
Their horror and sickness were so vile
That Aurorii banded with Man and Syriohnes
And forced them from the galaxy,
Place of their birth.
Now there were but three races,
Whose terror at the Arikna’e’s transformation
Reformed sense and virtue.
Peace would return.
The Three Peoples met on that ancestral planet
Of the Aurorii, Noxxiara, where the leaders spoke of change.
But high above, in black night, the Deep Sleep plotted.
It had found, alone on the Dro’Chiar, Tairisk’o T’sarek, proud captain.
A hardy fighter, bitterness had infected his heart -
He wished not for peace.
The Deep Sleep spoke to him as though the Dro’Chiar,
Saying, “Be not a fool, Tairisk’o!
Do you not see your enemies gathered below you?
Use my power to destroy them all.
None should escape judgement.”
Tairisk’o was swayed, yet he replied:
“How can you ask such a thing?
This is our home!
Our people live below now.
Great millions of them work and play in the streets -
They shall all be destroyed, surely!”
The Dro’Chiar laughed.
“You do not see the Deep Sleep
Creeping in upon you, like I do.
He is angered at all he has lost in the Dream
And I am your only hope against him. Bargain.
Lose some to gain all! Be wise.
For if you do not do this,
Your people all shall surely perish in the blackness.”
And so Tairisk’o is of two minds.
His people would survive, there were other lands -
But gone would be their home.
Yet, they would stand over their enemies,
No weak treaties for them!
Glory would be theirs forever!
Struggling still, Tairisk’o thought of his wife
Male’ah, killed by Men, and anger blazed within.
“Male’ah pulls the trigger now,
It is the dead who repay you!”
Such were Tairisk’o’s words
As he plunged the planet into darkness,
Into the Deep Sleep.
And gone were the mighty thrones of ancient kings,
Gone were the sacred temples to arcane gods,
Gone were the true Aurorii.
Those who had survived fled,
Each to their home -
But the Noxxin had none now.
Tairisk’o the traitor had caused such pain,
Such grief, they could not remain.
And so the massive ships were built,
46 of them in all,
And that mighty race, the proud Aurorii,
Were exiled from their home - forever.
Few stay behind.
Some are fools, believing they can rebuild.
Some are old, and cannot make the journey -
They will die with the stars of their birth.
And some, like K’shirak,
Stay that they might watch, until the end.
For the galaxy is dying.
Even the Syrionhes sense it,
As they prepare their own ships for flight.
Only Man fights still for life on their worlds.
The Deep Sleep comes for us -
And his reach is far.
Have pity on us, children.
We have failed you.
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