Amongst the empty between worlds, between realities, the all-encompassing darkness... A single thread of thought passes.
A piercing light, a single instance of a multi-faceted mind...
Soon it had vanished, leaving naught in its wake...
And all returns to silence.
-----[ - ]----- Part one
A dark tunnel within tunnels, the many figures clad in protective regalia stand idle. Naught but shallow breaths and the clattering of weapons made ready circulate, bouncing across the hollow corridors. A cloaked figure takes their stand in the middle, standing with a strange posture. The figures circle around this central point, ready to lay down their lives if need be.
A song begins, an aria unlike anything native to this reach of the universe. The tendrils of angelic voice invoking green-hued particles of light and essence. The moment stretches, as if frozen in time. However this pause in reality does not last...
"GROUND UNITS, AUSPEX-OMEGA PERCEIVED IN THIS SECTOR, CODE UPDATE, AMPUTATE-ZERO-MIDNIGHT"
The song continues, now mixed with the rhytmic approach of heavy footsteps. The cloaked figurine, sheltered by their companions, proceeds onward with the alien ritual as bullets begin to soar on the battlefield. One falls, then another, a price gladly given. However the masked and augmented servants of the Ulathoi have arrived too late. The lullaby reaches its apex in this moment, the cloaked figurine holds in its hand the essence of godhood. The orb is consumed and the false veils of the vortessence lifted as the masked pawns make their last feeble attempt at containing the situation.
Reality shatters in a brilliant display of energies not known by the denizens of this plane, The fractures opened mirroring alien realms and dimensions. The being lifts their claws upwards, the dark energy ammunition flying towards them halted. The apex of power made manifest and the foe reduced to atoms in a single instance of blinding light, the insurgents and their master likewise vanishing as they make their journey from this space to another.
The roars of waves and the salt of the dwindled seas penetrate the senses of the human insurgents as they arrive in their next destination. Their now again cloaked master gazing across the distances into the horizon. No amount of grief is present in the minds of those present for the fallen, for their sacrifice was to be expected. The figure now held a communion in the web of all that is vortal, for their work had only just begun...
The cacophony of tormented wails echoes between the infested streets, the undead marching onward with twisted purpose only to meet the barrage of emerald lightning that awaits them. Their essence becomes one, absorbed by their cloaked slayer. The decrepit old buildings loom over the group of insurgents, a remnant of the old world. The cloak-bearer remains cautious, their head swinging to the farside and back as they scan the vicinity for movement.
The human servants move to harvest the coveted meat of the xenian parasites under the benelovent gaze of their master. The journey through the infested city had been long and perilous, half of the investigation force already fallen against the undead threat. The concealed figure points their claw onwards, the prize they seeked already within arm's length. The group continues to the heart of the fallen concrete tomb, to the lair of the Mother of Broods.
As the nest-slayers arrive they are met with the fury of the Gonarch, already enraged by the death of many of its brood. As the insurgents engage the Brood the cloaked figure steps forthward, challenging the ginormous alien. A claw is raised, and a barrier erected. The massive body of the Gonarch slams against it with no success. The figurine begins a throaty hum in satisfaction, their prize now seized. Another claw is raised, and an emerald lightning soon follows, the parasite queen's essence robbed from them in a matter of moments.
The figurine lowers their claws, concealing their form again in the fabric of their cloak as the harvested creature falls. They offer a final glare at the fallen queen, their sight devoid of any morsel of pity or remorse. The human pawns are beckoned to follow and the congregation soon leaves the city, their purpose there fulfilled.
The silence deepens as Sol slowly dissappears beneath the horizon, the surface of the desert cooling and readying itself into the slumber of the night. Beneath the surface, the creatures of the old world expand, carving their way through sediment and stone. Wrapped in tatters, the shepherd of the collective works tirelessly, encouraging growth, stability and evolution. They walk among the antlion with a confident stride, unhindered and unopposed.
The hive is large, years of work poured into its wellbeing and construction. The many corridors and tunnels working as pathways for miles on end. For those familiar with this fauna from the Sanctuary, a safe passage. For others, certain death. The shepherd makes their way to the third nectarium, one of the central nerves, a conjunction point in this vast organic network.
The garbs are carefully placed aside and the shepherd rises, climbing to the apex point of the larvae cells. They place their claws onto the surface, igniting the connection. The influx of information would overflow the senses of any ordinary being, but not the shepherd. A mental map manifests, one that encompasses the entirety of the hive, a feat only possible for the one whomst had been there from the hive's inception.
The expansion was proceeding well, though the growing lack of sustenance for the endless maws was ever present. At the eastward edge of the cluster, the shepherd's target had been reached. A congregation of life-force, flesh to feed the mouths of the herd. The denizens of this occupational outpost knowing naught of the impending doom.
With a remote signal, the predators of the caves surfaced simultaneously. The antlion fell to the defense systems of the Combine in droves, as waves against the bedrock. The defenders were holding their ground, atop the tall walls, with mounted weapons spewing dark energy munitions, evaporating many of the herd. As the fighting for the outer walls reached a standstill, the smell of ozone pertruded into the noses of the defenders near the gates before a brilliant flash of green light was accompanied by the sound of a thousand crackling thunders.
The vortal energy seeped into the very structural foundations of the gates, spreading through the metal like a malignant virus, bending the heated alloy. The gates caved inwards and on the farside the shepherd stood, with a crooked smile. A claw raised, and with a soundless signal, the antlion poured in. The defenders were soon overcome, few escaping the claws of the antlion menace. The first toll was paid in full as the lifeless corpses were soon dragged into the depths of the hive, ready to be consumed.
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