It was just another regular day on Glorpalim. The sun was baking with the promise of a bountiful harvest, the children were playing in the streets, the elderly were relaxing in the shade with some fresh, cool water to drink, and all the adults and young adults were buzzing around the marketplace. Food vendors, potters, sculptors, farmers, fishermen, wood whittlers, and many more craftsmen were all shouting about their wares and services and the lively murmuring of the crowd told of a busy and profitable midday shopping spree.

Signs of wealth were everywhere, from the expensive fabrics worn by everyone to the finely crafted jewelry adorning the males of the Glorpil species. Wealth meant success and success was the best way to attract many wives, increasing your number of children and thus the ability of the family unit to increase the collective income. Hence, the desire to display as much wealth as possible.

Males with large enough families had no such need, though, as the ability to provide for such a large family, in and of itself, spoke of the abilities and economic stability of the male in question.

Murny was picking out fresh fruit and vegetables to prepare for dinner and a painful sensation of loss ran through her as her large compound eyes landed on the candied Tilba berries. They had always been Narvik's favorite treat as a child and she missed him dearly. When he had been taken to the compound of the Prophet by his messengers, she had felt pride, as would anyone at that point. But as time had passed, it became evident that none who ever went there returned, and their reverence of the selection of a family, had slowly become a thing of grief to be feared and loathed.

Murny had slowly accepted the loss of her son. She had other children that still needed her. But she had forever lost her belief in the Prophet as a divine messenger. No divine messenger would ever treat his charged people like this! Her thoughts were cut short as several loud *BANG* noises came from up above, high in the sky. She turned to eyes skyward and gaped in awe at the sight. She had heard it described by others who had been present when the Prophet had arrived, but they had told of a large chariot of a strange metal landing in a blaze of fire.

And yet, she was looking at 9 relatively small fireballs descending from the sky in a close formation. With the way they were falling it looked like they would hit... Her head snapped to the large square in the middle of the market and saw that those occupying the space had seen the same thing as her and were quickly clearing the square.

Was she about to witness more Prophets arrive?

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The launch from the ship had gone smoothly and the fall towards the planet was just as exhilarating as the first time Eirik did it. He didn't think you could ever get used to entering a planetary atmosphere from space, in a sealed, rebuilt, siege armor. The arm-mounted rotary guns had been removed and they were equipped for melee combat, not counting the firing mechanism hidden in the left arm of the armor.

Reentry into the atmosphere itself caused enough friction with the air to scorch the armor's legs, but it was far less than would have been the case back on Terra. Low gravity meant they would be significantly stronger, but it could work to their disadvantage if they were not careful. Movement in a different gravity was difficult at the best of times until you acclimated enough. Add in the armor and the possibility of getting into combat and the situation would have looked grim. IF they had been landing on a planet with modern technology.

However, this was a planet that had not yet discovered the use of iron, placing it so low on the danger scale that a rag-tag group of smugglers could have dominated the entire planet. The only thing stopping that from happening was the blockade that every species of the galactic council contributed to.

And the only reason they didn't shoot Eirik's ship down like you would swat a fly out of the air, was his status as emperor. Nobody wanted to be the cause of a diplomatic incident. Any other ship would have been blasted into atoms so fine that dust particles would be considered mountains.

All of these thoughts ran through Eirik's head in a split second when as he fell through the air. The preprogrammed instruments activated the boosters to slow the fall down enough for him to not die upon landing. A quick check of his helmet HUD showed the other 8 PESSA suits falling in perfect formation alongside him. They all made it with no problems. As they got closer to the ground he could start seeing details in the land around him.

The area surrounding the trading hub was a criss-cross of roads, all leading to the city. Large fields filled with an unknown form of food crop was being tended by dozens of Glorpil. Several herds of some kind of animal or creature were roaming the large plains outside the city, keeping a general distance from the Glorpil and their buildings.

The buildings themselves were quite different, hexagonal in design, and consisted of several cubes attached to a large base. Some homes had many attachments and some only had a few, suggesting that the entire family unit lived together in separate homes attached to a communal area with the household kitchen. Not much different from medieval Terra, but more individualized. Personal space meant a great deal to the Glorpil.

The boosters in his legs were constantly firing, correcting the course of his drop. He could not afford any mistakes that might cause death or destruction and as a result, Signa had installed primitive targeting software and connected it to the boosters used to slow their falling speed below lethal speeds. It was a far cry from the best gear available, but it would do the job and guide them to predesignated landing zones with a cm (4 inches) margin of error on a stationary target.

He could see details of the buildings now, the Glorpil littering the streets and scambling to vacate the square they had chosen as their landing spot. Nobody was moving, everyone was staring skyward. "Perfect!" He thought as he braced himself for the impact.

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Murny had managed to round up the kids while the rest of the family had gathered around them in a protective circle. It was not a calculated thing, but instead, a primitive instinct that still drove them to protect the next generation at all cost. This single species-wide personality trait had been the determining factor in their rise to dominance on their planet.

The falling fireballs grew larger and larger, falling at incredible speed, but as they got closer, she could make out something inside of the flames. Familiar shapes and that strange metal the Prophets chariot was made of. "More of them to take our future away?" She thought bitterly, the loss of her son to whatever schemes were going on was something she would never forgive. While generally a peaceful species that preferred diplomacy over fighting, the glorpil were no strangers to bloodshed and warfare.

Formidable hunters in their own right, mastering the art of stalking and attacking with extreme stealth and overwhelming violence from their 4 attacking limbs, scything their chosen prey apart with deadly precision and speed. When working in hunting teams, they could take down enormously large prey with little effort, often killing their target before it understood that it was under attack.

Their 4 attacking limbs were also their "legs" granting them the added ability to carry 2 long thin hunting knives that were used to great effect in combination with their attacking legs, and a family unit protecting their young was a truly ferocious thing to witness. A surprisingly fast, rolling wall of flashing blade limbs and knives that pressed down on any perceived threat like a whirlwind of death, leaving

They all stared as the 9 falling objects slammed into the center of the square, kicking up a huge cloud of dust and cracking the stones underneath the impact areas. The sound was deafening and everyone kept flicking their vision toward the sky to watch if more objects came down and the square to see what had fallen down already.

As the dust cloud started dissipating, rhythmic *THUNK* *THUNK* *THUNK* noises could be heard from the square, and hints of movement were visible in the dust.

"Nothing but the prophets and the gods could survive that kind of fall. It would seem we are to be cursed with more prophets to take more of our people away! What have we done to deserve this?" Murny thought desperately as she looked at her mate. He was standing in front of the family, closest to the square. Always ready to risk everything to protect others.

A towering monstrosity of the strange metal slowly came walking out of the cloud of dust wielding a massive shield in one hand, easily twice the height of any Glorpil present and wider than even the most well-fed amongst them. In the other hand, it carried a weapon unlike any they had ever seen. A long handle with a shaped piece of the strange metal attached, larger than the body of an adult Glorpil and with a sharp edge like a knife. Everyone used tools and knew the effect of using a handle to amplify the striking power of tools, and this knowledge made many of the males' present wonder just what you would need such a weapon to fight.

The giant metal being walked out of the settling dust cloud and looked around at the gathered Glorpil, who stared back in disbelief as 8 other metal beings slowly emerged from behind the first one, all equipped with large shields, and a mix of large weapons Once they all gathered up, the first one spoke with a voice that echoed off the buildings and rang down the silent streets.

"WE SEEK THE FALSE PROPHET!! WHO HERE SPEAKS FOR YOU?"