[Castorum, 2 Millennia after Consortium Emergence, 200 years after Infestare emergence]
High above the blighted clouds lay the red sun of a once treasured home, its crimson majesty having been long since desecrated by an enemy Yrix knew far too well. Her people, the Consortium, had given up their lofty plans of reclaiming the planet years ago.
But even as the fauna lay dead, and the oceans dried, there were still relics dear to the emperor that had to be reclaimed. Henceforth, as per royal decree, there would be a great crusade upon the planet, heralded by a legion of vessels.
"Landfall imminent. Watch for solar flares," a bellowing voice spoke over the intercom.
"Are they fools?" Yrix thought to herself, using her Psionic gaze to peer through the minds of the crew stationed outside. "To plan our exercise at the same time as the controlled burn."
The Arch-Flayer, as she was begrudgingly named, stood pensively at the center of a vast hangar, whose crude rustic bays were filled to the brim with warriors eager for battle. It was rather uncommon for a creature of Yrix's rank to associate herself with such a station, wherein the underbelly lacked even a window to decorate its vast metal halls. But truth be told, she just wanted to be the first into the fray, regardless of where her position should otherwise lead her.
"They won't last five minutes," Yrix shrugged, staring down at the armored grunts beneath her, their bulky shields and battle-worn weaponry standing in juxtaposition to her assessment. "It matters not. I only need reach the vaults before the others."
Yrix began to fiddle with her sidearm, its angular shape having been recently polished and waxed. It was an ironically delicate process, considering how sharp and spindly her four fingers could be.
She needed the stout little thing to operate at peak preformance if she were to reach her target in time. Though in truth, she had little faith it would last any longer than the creatures surrounding her, considering the enemy she knew would be clawing at it.
They went by many names throughout the stars. Some called them the Surfeit, while others simply dubbed their presence as the plague. For the Consortium, names and titles didn't matter nearly as much as strength.
"Landing sequence permitted, glory be to the emperor. Death to the Infestare," the same voice echoed throughout the stuffy chamber, signaling the first step of the operation.
Yrix was a Psion, and a particularly large one at that. Her race of tetrapods was widely known as the best to practice the art, so much so that the concept of Psionic influence originated from their name. It was for this reason that they had been members of the Consortium far longer than most.
Not that Yrix cared. Her singular eye, located in the center of her skull beneath inches of thick armor, twitched with morbid anticipation for the battle ahead. There was something she wanted down on that planet, and nothing would stop her from getting it.
Looking downwards, Yrix relaxed her muscles before the floor beneath her gave way. It was a rather graceless deployment method, as the vessel's underbelly opened its maw to unleash its contents all at once.
For the average grunt, a machine stationed at an interval would encase them in a large metal tube, shielding them from the fiery landing. But for Yrix, who had no place in the battle group in the first place, there would be no such insurance. She would dive headfirst into the atmosphere all on her own.
"Yrix, the fifth fleet deployed early; you must make haste," a feminine voice informed the Psion from within her mind, causing her to become agitated.
"Petulant children," Yrix complained.
As Arch-Flayer, her station gave her access to only the most ornate of power armor, tightly fit around her flesh so that she would never have to remove it. She was the only Psion of her rank to don a striking yellow, allowing her to stick out as the golden harbinger of the battlefield. Yrix liked that kind of attention.
She wanted badly for the enemy to focus their efforts on her first, believing in all their ignorance that she could be killed. To that extent, she even went as far as to don a red cape of sorts, split into two segments down her narrow back. Even her helmet was stylized around her sigil, bearing the mark of the two-horned flayer from her people's legend.
"And they wonder why the Infestare are winning."
Yrix tucked her arms in, falling at a greater velocity than the pods surrounding her before abruptly stalling her descent with a Psionic pulse. She had timed her move perfectly, grabbing onto a nearby pod just as a barrage of yellow lightning came crashing into the formation, destroying at least half of the deployment. Yrix was keenly aware of how to strike a balance between speed and restraint, ensuring the rest of her flight would be properly shielded.
"Less than I had anticipated," Yrix thought to herself, using her Psionic gaze to observe the battlefield from the perspective of the fifth fleet's deployment, which she had recently learned was a bit hasty. "How rare for the Infestare."
The Flayer bent her knees as the surface of the planet came into view, spinning herself into a ball before slamming onto the rough terrain with a deafening boom. She had, of course, used a Psionic wave to break her fall, causing a lethal explosion that she hadn't bothered to calculate the risks of. If sacrificing an ally meant a swifter excision, then so be it.
Her objective was all that mattered.
It wasn't long before Yrix began to hear the screeching howls lost in the mist of the battlefield, followed by a series of gunfire and clashing metal. Just as she had predicted, her landing zone was located atop a rather convenient hilltop. As for the unit she rode on to get there, they were less than fortunate.
Against the Infestare, all the Consortium grunts could do was make a defensive formation and pray the Arch-Flayer would find them before they were devoured.
"Good, gives me time to search," Yrix squinted her singular eye as she unfolded a silver disk, its holographic interface showing her a map of the surrounding area.
Yrix stood still for quite some time, seemingly oblivious to the danger around her as she relaxed her posture. Even as the dying battle cries of her allies rang out from across the hills, Yrix focused on finding her quarry. It didn't matter what came barreling out of the shadows of the ruined Castorum. She had better things to do.
"There," Yrix hissed as a strange symbol appeared on her device, its shape depicting a wilted flower with sharp symmetrical lines. "I found you."
Yrix shut her device, staring with contempt at the swarm that had formed around her. The Infestare stared at her silently, their frail skeletal bodies twitching and writhing with anticipation as their porous shells leaked an indescribable fluid. For all intents and purposes, the great enemy of the Consortium was a rabble of evolved crustaceans, relying on the sheer might of their biological forms to fight against the empire. But with the aid of a yet undiscovered power, their monotonous blight had become a scourge for all.
"Die," Yrix spoke into the minds of her enemy with a chilling tone.
The Infestare scuttled towards the Psion, with many of them excreting blasts of acidic projectiles as they approached. But the Arch-Flayer was prepared, halting the assailants with a Psionic barrier before collapsing it onto the horde with lethal force.
That felt good.
It was as if she birthed a transparent coffin right in front of them and slammed it in their face. Such destruction, followed by a splurge of guts and blood, brought her a pleasure she had begun to long for. Yrix did love a good slaughter. But she wanted more.
"Away with these lowly insects," Yyrix rolled her eye, swiveling around on her heels before destroying another score of enemies with her sidearm. "Where are your warriors?"
As if on cue, a large fragment of living tissue flew over Yrix's head, its surface covered with amplifying energy. Such was the way of the Infestare, sending the sheep before the lion. But the Flayer was still unfazed, ducking and weaving over each larger attack with great agility. Soon enough, the greater enemy revealed itself as another horde of monsters, their size and ferocity far greater than the last.
There was a reason Yrix kept her gun in top shape. It was designed to convert tiny particles of combustible material into slag, essentially allowing her to hurl heated rocks out of a barrel for hours at a time. And considering the tenacity of the enemy she faced, it would be foolish to bring an exhausted pile of scrap.
She also just loved guns.
Much to the Consortium's dismay, there was no way to make the Infestare fear defeat, a lesson Yrix had already learned as she began to move closer to her prey. The deeper she plunged into the Infestare's territory, the more swarms she would encounter, each one stronger than the last. But Yrix would fight on, sliding down a ravine with near-limitless energy as she battled the horde with her Psionic energy.
Whenever the Infestare faced defeat, it was typical of them to bring out stronger casts. What was once a stream of crawling little tetropods had become a rabble of armored soldiers, their chitin thick enough to resist most projectiles. For that reason alone, it was worth being a high-ranking member of the Consoritum. Yrix had all the time and money in the world to make her own sidearm into an armor-piercing monstrosity.
She also had the right to demand for an entire company to come dig her a hole.