The Tale of a Trinacornagon

"...in more recent news, the Hive Confederacy has conceded the Lykans Sector to the organisation known as Obsidian Sol. Estimates report that 112 battleships were lost, although further reports have suggested that civilian evacuation was able to be carried out safely. In the studio now, we have Dr K'now, a professor of Astropolitics at the Tower of Wisdom, to discuss. Dr K'now, welcome."

"Thank you for having me, Khelene."

"With regards to this recent surge of attacks, what is your expert opinion?"

"Well, the truth of the matter is the Empire of Obsidian Sol, as they call themselves, are an extremely insular group. Their origins remain rather shrouded, only appearing this side of the Great Rift in the very recent millennia. Largely, they kept to themselves, though their rate of expansion and industrialisation is indicative of a collection of at least several hundred, perhaps even thousands of habitable systems beyond the Great Rift."

"Wow, that may not sound like a lot, folks, but the truth is we just don't know much of what goes on beyond the Great Rift."

"Indeed, if there are those with the ability to cross it from our side, they have kept it firmly to themselves. Anyways, Obsidian Sol are not the only visitors from afar, but perhaps they are the least understood. Not a single emissary has been met with, not a single non-hostile transmission has been received. The truth of the matter is we don't even really know what type of species they may be. Their technology is as obstruse as they are, only Lostech has been reliably shown to be able to deal with them."

"Lostech is more mythical than a flying fleebus in today's world. What would you suggest to all those watching, who worry about a possible attack?"

"Haha, well I wouldn't worry too much. If you actually kept track of all the possible dangers in our galaxy, well, you might just end up hiding in a hole and never coming out!"

"Haha, well you may certainly be right! Thank you, Dr K'now."

"Always a pleasure, Khelene."

"Now then, in other news, The Duke of New Ithaca has crowned a new Champion! Let's meet with our correspondent there on the scene..."

***

[Unitopia, Eastern Continent]

The cries of the vultures faded as the remnants of their flock scattered in all directions. The grey-robed apprentice heaved deep breaths, finally able to relax. She was surrounded by several mangled corpses of hideous flesh-machine hybrids.

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"Not too shabby, my apprentice."

The red-robed figure of her teacher slid down the small mound he had perched himself upon. He lightly touched the scar tissue over where his left eye once resided in a habitual gesture.

"You have truly improved by leaps and bounds. No doubt, in part, due to your excellent role model."

Rolling her eyes, she gave a mock bow.

"Of course, Arbiter Prime."

Waving her off with a chuckle, her teacher continued.

"Perfection is a pursuit of folly, but one must always strive to improve. Still, I suppose you fared very well for your calibre against a numerical disadvantage."

She puffed up slightly in pride, compliments from the Arbiter Prime were rare things, though always earned.

"Vultures..."

The red-robed figure had crouched over a fallen specimen. Retrieving a bloodied piece of shrapnel uncaring of his bare hands, he studied it with his one working monocled eye.

"Hmmmm...how peculiar."

Tiptoeing to try and have a look, his apprentice asked curiously.

"What is it?"

"I am not too sure," her teacher admitted. "Did you notice something different about these Vultures?"

She shrugged in response.

"Not particularly. Vultures are...well, no-one really knows exactly where they come from. They might be difficult in groups, but they're scavengers at the end of the day. Nothing with this group that went against that."

"We do not know exactly how they come about, but we do hypothesise why," her teacher corrected. "It's simple ecology. Rather than a species, they are a class of organism formed from fusion of technological and biological processes under unknown conditions, that fills a particularly valuable niche. Any ideas?"

Her apprentice looked around, surveying the carnage of the battlefield surrounding them. The blue sun was blazing from above, smoking hulks of strange abominations and massive craters littered the ground as far as the eye could see.

"Well, they are always the first to arrive to a new graveyard like this, the first to scavenge what they can before the bigger players move in."

Her teacher snapped his fingers.

"Exactly! That's why we call them vultures, not that they are all necessarily winged specimen. Though that does seem to be the majority. The true lines between mutant species like these are hard to draw and it makes more sense to categorise them by their functions."

Realisation dawned on his apprentice's face and her teacher grinned.

"I just never thought about it like that! If they are scavengers, then why would they attack us out of the blue?"

Her teacher straightened, throwing away the piece he was examining as if he had lost all interest, and spread his arms out wide as if exclaiming to the world.

"Exactly! I have no idea!"

He turned to his apprentice, the madness of curiosity burning in his one remaining pupil.

"Isn't that exciting!"

The fire of curiosity was infectious, the young girl finding herself swept up by the red-robed Arbiter's enthusiasm.

"So, how will we find that out?"

"That is indeed a very practical question."

Her teacher reached into the folds of his red robes, retrieving a copper compass. Its needle was spinning wildly and, studying it for a few seconds before nodding and returning it to a hidden pocket, he spoke.

"The compass is absolutely useless. There is only a single thing we can rely on."

His apprentice had already begun kneading her forehead in pre-emptive exasperation.

"Instinct!"

With a loud laugh at his own joke, his apprentice at his side, the two figures began their trek into the deeper layers of the so-called graveyard. Who knows what horrors lurked therein, asleep, waiting...

I know. You know the drill by know: of course I won't tell you. Get wrecked.