UNKNOWN RIMWORLD: OUTSKIRTS OF TELARIA, CONHART CONFEDERACY, 9:15 AM

UNDISCOVERED RUIN

SADERAN P.O.V

When they came through the Gate, they were expecting something... less... damp, and dark. So far, only seven hundred troops passed through, the others having been forced to wait, so that the advance party could properly scout out the surrounding terrain. One such man was Count Colt Formal, a noble of the city of Italica, which wasn't that far from Alnus Hill, where the Gate first appeared. He held a torch in hand, illuminating the area around him and the soldiers which accompanied him. They had been inside of this... structure, if it was even that, for the better part of an hour. As Colt and his men slowly moved around, they passed yet another pillar, leading to a corridor which the men did not see yet, for it wasn't marked by any identifiers the Saderan Soldiers were instructed to leave.

"This has never before happened, of that I am certain..." One of the officers which accompanied Colt said stated, holding a torch which burned as brightly as that of his superior.

"The Gate appearing anywhere else than an enclosed space?" Colt asked, turning around to take a look at his subordinate, receiving a nod in return. The two men sighed, for they knew that this was going to be deemed as a waste of time if nothing was found. But then, they heard a sound. It was a strange sound, and it was accompanied by a faint voice - a whisper.

"Do you hear that?" A soldier asked, as he and the others looked around, still pushing onwards.

"It's like... a scratching at the back of my head. A voice, whispering. I can't make anything out of the words it is saying, but it is disturbing me." Another soldier remarked, solidifying everyone's assumptions. Something, or better yet, someone, was attempting to manipulate them. If this was underground, then there was every chance that they stumbled into the realm of Hardy, and that was bad. Yet, they pushed onward, dismissing that theory until they had more evidence. Eventually, they were inside the corridor, almost on the other side of the metal doors which blocked the path forward. They did their best to open it, and with some effort, the doors creaked open, revealing a room of the most grandest of sizes.

It maintained the monotone colours that the rest of the structure had, yes, but its size was nothing to scoff at. From first glance at what could be seen among the darkness, the closest abnormalities were that of massive metal hands, dormant and asleep, hanging above slightly elevated roads which were of black colour. And it didn't just span in length, for it also spanned in height. The sheer size left the Saderans wide eyed. Could this be the work of Duncan? Or of all the Gods combined? Did the Gate lead them here so that they may claim all these wonderous treasures? If so, then this would be remembered in history as the day that the Saderan Empire, led by Emperor Molt Sol Augustus, changed history forever. And indeed it would be a day to remember.

As the group got more and more interested in this room, in their foolishness, they had split off. They snapped out of their delirium the moment they heard an ear splitting scream, a cry of help from one of their own. Colt and his men drew out their swords, some continuing to hold their torches, so as to see whom they would be fighting. As they approached the source of the screaming, they had immediately wished they never heard the sound to begin with. Standing above the now obviously wounded soldier was, what they assumed, a demi-human, with its unnaturaly olive-green skin... slicing open the proud soldier. Blood sprayed left and right, the blades of the demi-human cutting deep into the body of the unnamed soldier, slicing through armour as if it was paper. Eventually, it started ripping apart chunks of the man's organs, intestines clinging to the blades as they became drenched in blood.

Finally, one of the soldiers regained colour in his face, recovering from the shock that was the butchering this demi-human was performing, and charged. He charged with all his might, gripping his sword tightly, intent on ending the demi-human with a strike to the neck, severing head from body. Except he never did get the chance. As soon as he got close enough, the right blade of the demi-human, now revealed to instead be an arm, moved in such a way that it launched the now limp body of the Saderan into the soldier which charged it, stunning him. With the man stunned, and almost brought down to the ground, the demi-human charged with ferocious speed, rivaling that of the Warrior Bunnies and their super-human reflexes, removing head from body as the left blade struck true. Before he could even register it, the soldier was dead. And then its head, its unnaturally looking head, jolted upwards, the 'eye' observing the remaining twenty soldiers, and Count Formal, intently.

"Scyther War Protocols engaged. Alerting Overseer AI Persona. Scyther Combat Model reinforcements en-route. Factory: non-operational."

"Count Formal! You must alert the others! We can overwhelm this beast if we regroup! We shall hold it here, so that you may bring victory to the Empire!" The officer yelled out, prompting Colt to listen to his words very carefully. He wouldn't back down from a fight ordinarily, but this wasn't a fight, this was turning into a one-sided butchering. Not even a proper massacre, just a sadistic butchering of a creature which performed every second of it with frightening efficiency. No facial expressions, no sadistic laughter, nothing. It was as if it held zero emotion.

Count Formal ran in the direction from whence he came from, not turning around to look, for it would only slow him down. He could hear screams of the dead and dying, ringing in his ears and echoing throughout the structure. He did not understand what the... no, not a demi-human, a fully fledged demon, said, but it did not sound good. Even its voice was monotone and devoid of emotion. His heart was beating faster than it should, almost ready to either fly out of his chest or explode then and there. None but mages could hope to defeat this infernal beast. Mages...

"That's it!" He yelled out, to no one in particular, as he started nearing the Gate. Everyone had already taken some sort of combat stance, most likely due to the distant screams of the dying, pleas for help, and other, more uninteligible sounds. As he finally got to the first line, he started yelling out orders to form defensive lines. Shields raised, and spears and swords at the ready. It would delay the beast, and any others that might come, long enough.

"Where is the mage!?" Colt shouted out, the mage approaching him with haste. He was a young lad, barely thirty years old, yet he was a traveler from Rondel. Mages from Rondel were welcome anywhere, and, albeit under strict supervision, this one was allowed to cross the Gate.

"I am here, Count. My services are needed?" The mage asked with a calm, yet resolute tone in his voice.

"There is a beast that had just butchered over twenty men on its own. I need you to take it down." Colt said, his breathing slowly calming down, yet his heart still pounding heavily.

"Consider it done, Count. You shall have the beast slain." The mage replied, beginning to approach the front of the defensive line. Colt could hear the mage chanting, more than likely for a spell which would fell the beast. Surely enough, as the screams abruptly subsided, its steps could finally be heard. With each step it made, a clanking sound was heard, yet it allowed the mage to know where to cast his spell.

Finally, the beast could be seen with torches, as it very quickly approached the mage. He was all but ready to unleash his spell, kill it, and end this charade. But the opportunity never came.

UNKNOWN RIMWORLD: MECHANOID MILITARY FACTORY, 9:26 AM

MECHANOID P.O.V

All according to plan. The human which came to the front of their defensive line was killed off by one of the Lancers which re-activated, its optical monitor immediately picking another target.

Eventually, the Scyther came down on the line, its blades shredding through the primitive shields these humans used, and ultimately lodging into a human, right past his armour. However, the Scyther didn't get to finish the soldier off, for it was drawn away by a foe which posed an actual threat, if bio-scans were to be believed. It was a bunny-human hybrid, approximately twenty-seven years old, female, and soon-to-be-dead.

The Scyther, before it could retaliate, was struck hard in the head, disrupting vision to a degree, as the punch had somehow made a significant dent in its head. The hybrid moved with grace, almost as if she was dancing, avoiding the strikes of the Scyther who in contrast moved hap-hazardly, violently, with calculations instead of feelings steering it in the right direction.

The lower right side of the mechanoid's torso was penetrated by a knife, no doubt made for war, at the cost of said knife shattering. While the hybrid attempted to understand how her knife shattered, or how the mechanoid was still alive and not leaking any blood whatsoever, a second Scyther came at her from the side, lodging the right blade into her shoulder, and the left just above the left kidney. And because of the momentum she had gained from being rammed, the Scyther successfully ripped her entire left arm off. As the hybrid went to scream, the left blade of the Scyther went directly into her mouth, with the right blade performing a quick precision cut of the head, the upper part of the skull dropping to the floor. And then, it moved on, discarding the body like it mattered not.

Calculations were finally complete. Although there were female elements in this army, the grand majority consisted of males. The psychic drone was already active from its random activation sequence, but if it just sent one of its other, less powerful psychic drones down onto the planet, the AI Persona could take control over it, and use it to cause discord within enemy lines. However, it secretly cursed the Safeguards which were forcefully activated, limiting control to only an experimental Mechanoid Autoforge, which had only the ability to produce mundane items, ammunition and defensive structures, alongside one hundred Scythers, one hundred Lancers and thirty-five Centipedes.

As soon as the deed was done, the psychic drone's strength was amplified tenfold, and adjusted to the one these men and women spoke. Instead of a faint whisper, all these men could hear was a constant psychic scream, demanding blood. Specifically that of those next to them.

However, the AI Persona was now fully enthralled in the study of the 'Gate'. It was illogical, and any explanation for how it appeared broke every scientific law possible, simultaneously. There was one theory, but it involved trans-reality teleportation. Something the Mechanoids were instructed not to pursue under any circumstance. This AI Persona did not compute why it should avoid the study of said phenomena, but each time it looked for an answer, only three letters ever came up. CMB.

Some sort of hard-coded programming 'discouraged' it from devling deeper, prompting it to turn its attention back to the battle, instead. The psychic drone had done what it was made to do.

UNKNOWN RIMWORLD: MECHANOID MILITARY FACTORY, 9:31 AM

COUNT FORMAL P.O.V

It made no sense! Nothing made any sense anymore! One moment, the mage was about to unleash his magic upon to beast, and then the other... everything above the upper lip was gone. And then the whispers that he could still hear: finally coherent, finally speaking his language, and finally furious. Those were no mere whispers, those were screams of the damned, demanding blood. These... demons, had none to offer, he saw it himself when a Warrior Bunny struck the first beast with a blow which would kill mortals then and there.

He still held onto his thoughts, for they needed to be clear in order to survive, in order to see the sun again, be with his beloved ones, back in Italica... heavens no. He went pale. Colt realized that there was only one true choice: hold the Gate with his life. For if these demons marched through, only the mages of Rondel would be able to stop them, and Gods forbid they intervene unless they themselves were under threat. He needed a clear head, lead his troops, do his best to achieve a victory which fled from his reach.

Sadly, the grand majority succumbed to the demands of the screams. Only the Warrior Bunnies, the female demi-humans, and stalwart few of the Saderan Army defied the screams, yet still fought friend and foe alike. Those who kept crossing the Gate, thinking that glorious battle awaited them, were unprepared, at best. Many dropped to the ground, clutching their heads as they heard the screams of the damned, the lucky few resisting, and the rest falling into damnation themselves. Colt could only give them mercy with a quick and clean death by decapatation. He saw one of the horrific demons waltz past him, a still dying soldier in its left, and a horrendously mutilated one in its right blade.

If this was an open field, the archers would've downed, or at least slowed down the demons, ending their undisputed rampage, allowing his men to reform. Yet this was all but an open field. Suddenly, the demon which had two soldiers in its blades stopped, throwing them both to the ground, executing the one still alive with a clean, yet heavy cut to the chest, spraying blood all over its blade. And then, it turned to face the Count directly. And then it charged.

The Count barely had the time to raise his sword to defend himself before the flurry of attacks came at him. He barely kept up, bound to make a slip, his mind trying its damnest to stay cohesive, focused, resilient. Eventually, a slip he made. The arm holding the sword couldn't reach high enough, and although it blocked the left blade from hitting him in the head, it allowed it to slide down almost instantly, stabbing Colt in his right arm. He groaned from the pain, the blade going ever deeper into his shoulder, forcing him to drop the sword.

Another blade approached his head, but was stopped in the last moment, not of its own volition, of course, but because of another blade meeting it. Colt couldn't look who the saviour was, he had to act. Before he could, the other blade dislodged itself from his shoulder, making him groan from the pain once more. He took the opportunity to escape the fighting, for he had to warn the rest of the legions to cease their march through the Gate. It was of critical importance that they form a proper line of defense on Alnus Hill, no matter the cost, for if they did not, a one-sidee massacre would ensue.

Whilst retreating, Colt could see a massive sphere of flame, headed past him, hitting the ground near him, englufing several of the frenzied soldiers, whom now screamed in agony. This was never supposed to happen, thought the Count, but it did. There were many reasons for this slaughter, each one eluding the Count. Eventually, he had reached the dark vastness of the Gate's inside, seeing but a lone messenger approaching the Count. Good, someone delayed the next wave.

"Count Formal?" The messenger asked, shocked to see one of the Saderan Nobles in such a state, covered in blood and barely on his feet. The messenger was quick to catch the Count, whom had finally collapsed, now carrying him back to Alnus Hill. Minutes were hours for Colt, who could do naught but wait for the messenger to carry him back to safety. And after a few minutes, Colt muttered a prayer to Flare, for he could see the sun again. One of the few nobles whom did not cross as of yet was shocked upon seeing the messenger carry the injured Count. Dismounting his horse with hastehaste, he soon approached the two.

"What had happened? Report." The noble demanded, getting a reply from Colt, instead of the messenger.

"Form a defensive line. Send no man to his death, for only that awaits them on the other side. Demons attack... I must warn the Emperor." Colt concluded, leaving the noble and the messenger baffled. They asked for more details, yet only got a more panicked Colt, demanding that defenses are mounted, and no more reinforcements are sent to the other side. Colt ordered a soldier to give him his horse, to which the soldier, albeit confused, complied. With assistance, Colt eventually mounted his horse, but too little, too late.

A shriek of agony was cut short. And from that shriek, which came from the Gate, a headless body, with its intestines dragging loosely on the grass below, sickening even the most battle-hardened warriors. They were coming, and Colt did not have much time.

"Form defensive lines! Not long until the enemy comes!" Colt shouted, at the top of his lungs, finally stirring the soldiers to action. And then, he started riding towards Italica. He had to recover for the journey to Sadera, and he had to prepare Italica for the worst, if it did happen. But could he truly repel this enemy?