Tuesday, September 1, 2009


Day six of the infestation from the stars. The growing numbers of outanders seems to grow by the day with no end in sight. Local government says to stay calm and when applicable, be courteous and hospitable. I doubt that this "invasion" sized army of "explorers" is anything but searching. The technology they posses seems rugged and deathly. One could surmise that our flesh could withstand an attack, but I doubt our wings could.

"Surgeon Witsu?" a soft, deep voice calls from just outside my study chambers.

End journal entry:
Psionic encrypt code : Luna Skall
Path : Ballistic
Vessel: Wistu Fennick

"Medna, please do not call me that. Witsu, Fenn Wits, or even Wit-nnick is better than "surgeon". It has been two tri lunar cycles since that title has been soo erroneously placed on my brow. It is soo ... alien."

Medna's strong build trying to maneuver through all the glass tubatures in my chambers is still amusing to me, though I never willingly tease an old friend. Let alone the next in line for Warrior Expona. Medna's prowess on the battle realms is legend. Legend enough to carry the mantle of the elite battle tasker of all the Soompa Territories. More than that, he is my friend. My life long brother mate.

"Alien?", he offers. "An odd choice of description considering the current affairs. You know, this meeting between us and ... what do they call themselves again? Hulam Eens?".

"Human Beings. From -"

He quickly scoffs,"Not important Surgeon Expona. What is of most paramount importance brother mate, is that we do not, by NO means allow for this open negotiations to continue. They do not come in peaceful tones. Their scent reeks of deceit, anger, greed and violence. They are the harbingers from the young ones tales. They are makers of death Witsu and we are their hosts!"

He plates his words with a warning scent that singes my nasal cavities.

I place my hand on his large shoulder and try my best to calm him and myself down. It doesn't seem to work. I am scared, and for the first time that I can remember, so is he. My wings sends out a high pitched shudder.

He begins to chortle. "Please Mighty Surgeon, do not flutter gas in front of the Hulmian Bens tonight. It makes for bad politics."

"As does your facial hole!", I retort.

We laugh for a short break and than Medna helps me don my Surgeon Robes and sceptre.

The journey towards answers from the Humans starts tonight.

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