"All forces on deck 17, prepare to repel boarders." A feminine voice echoed through the metallic halls of the space vessel Avenger, "And may God be with you."

Commander Aerus peered up to the speaker hanging high on the wall of the armory. Around him his squad prepared for combat, grinning and sneering at their weapons observing them skeptically looking for anything that may hinder their passions to destroy everything that attempted to board the ship. Their weapons were their brothers, their lives, their very souls, and if it wasn't taken care of in an honorable manner then they would die. God was with them, but he could do nothing to help them if they could not do their own part.

"You heard the lady, lock and load and get ready to send these heathens back the warp they call home." Aerus said calmly with a firm tone that you couldn't hear, but could feel that only strengthened the aura of command, control, and bravery that surrounded him. He was answered by ten simultaneous heavy clicks as the ten soldiers in the room jammed their battery clips into their holders. A small smirk reached his face, if you were bold enough to believe, which could only barely be seen, thanks to the angle of his posture combined with the lights above. A deep scar dug itself across the entirety of his face, from one end near the top, to the other near his chin. It was simply amazing that such a blow would leave a man alive, yet there he stood. He was a cold man, caring for nothing, until thoughts of his men's survival entered his mind; it was at that point where one could find Aerus's passion. His life meant nothing if it meant saving those under him, and for that many honored him. The only other passion within him was his faith, which could easily equal that of a paladin, and confused many on why he was not at such a rank. Unfortunately, being born so far from the core galaxies within the universe left him unable to grasp such an opportunity at the correct age, so, God left him with his true destiny.

A Hylan Paladin with deep red eyes so dark it was difficult to differentiate them from black and dark brown hair that was cut to the extremes, borderline bald-but so were the requirements for a paladin-sat in a dark corner away from the squad that stood at attention to the brave commander. His dark eyes wandered the room, observing those in it, but his firm, rugged, emotionless face hadn't moved since he had entered the room, he saw wasting energy on such things as emotion pointless. He was scanning them, searching deep into the darkest chasms of their minds and was glad to find only bravery and loyalty to their commander who they all seemed to respect. The paladin had sensed much prestige, pride, and a devotion to his men that he had rarely seen. Not even the High Chancellor of the Hylan council showed such leadership skills, but it was not uncommon, of course. The true leaders that could probably run an empire with perfection are the ones who are dragged into the military and ignored for their skills in leadership and instead worshiped for their tactics. Few realize that a leader requires more than intelligence and strategic skill, but instead a man had to realize it was the spirit of his grunts, the low "scum" that serve at the front lines of combat, is the driving force of an army.

"I also have someone to introduce you to, today," The ship shook violently as another salvo of plasma slammed into the ship's shields and the few that managed to slip past it, hitting the hull of the ship, "It seems the Order wants to see this fleet make it one piece for reasons that I cannot describe to you because I have no knowledge of the matter either." Aerus pointed towards the paladin hiding in the dark corner who none of the elite warriors had noticed even with all their training.

"We are ordered to repel any boarders that place their satanic feet on this vessel." The paladin rose from the shadows, revealing his awe-like appearance. Many had not seen a paladin in person, for they would rarely show themselves in full armor, unless necessary. The young paladin wore the silver mithril armor around his entire body with graceful ancient Hylan characters decorating its surface with numerous blessings and prayers; and of course, on the shoulders large pentagrams with a variety of symbols around and within the shape, showing the presence of god was there to ward off any incompetent minions of hell.

"My name is unimportant, but my family's name is Marcani, you may address me in such a manner. You will not call me sir or indicate me as a rank above you for though I shall lead you and your commander and you shall follow my orders, I shall fight along your sides as a grunt, as your equal. We are to defend the artifact storage on this deck. You may not know what exactly we are defending within its doors, and I have no authority in which I may tell you. However, I tell you now, I require volunteers to defend this one room, it is important to our victory in this war. If you agree to follow me, then please step-"

The entire squad of troops that had been facing Marcani took one step forward, towards the paladin. With a smile they readied their weapons and lined up in a double column line, with the commander at the front, prepared to follow the paladin wherever they were told to go. Marcani, with a smile, strolled in between the two columns, breaking them apart for a moment and then lowered in the middle of the entire group.

"Let us bow in prayer." The paladin brought his sword point-first onto the floor. As the others bowed the sword that was so stunningly crafted rose above their heads as if it was some staff held high. On the bottom of the handle, which was now above all those praying in the small circle around Marcani, was a silver cross carved with creative curves and small characters engraved on its surface. The handle itself was wrapped in a golden paper-like material, of which only the Forgers of Hylandor knew of its name and recipe, where, as it met the blade, four identical curved spikes could be found that surrounded the base of the blade in a beautiful fashion. The blade itself had a golden strip on either side of the blade with characters engraved up and down it and a silver cross perfectly placed in the middle. At its point, one side of the blade curved inwards to meet the other side to make a majestic finishing. It was a sword passed down through the ages, since the beginning of the Hylan race; it was once his father's and before then it was his father's and then once his father's. The sword of a Hylan Paladin was crafted to last for an eternity and show the universe their lord's magnificence with the sheer beauty of it.

"Arise." Marcani said calmly. In the blink of an eye the paladin sheathed his sword back to its resting place on his back and turned to the exit. "Alright men, let's get moving. We have a destiny to meet." He and the soldiers quickly began down the hall to the artifact room on deck 17. Within three minutes they made it to the heavily armored door that had another security force inside ready to make a stand in case the first defense failed. The enormous blast doors could not even open without the assistance of machinery, most likely weighing several tons, and had three foot locks visible in between the crevice between the two smaller doors that made up the entire structure.

Eight feet to the left and right were turning points of the hallway, Marcani set the troops on both sides, waiting for an attack as the ship shook more and more. The quaking waves that rippled throughout the hull could be felt in every fiber of one's being, and only preoccupied the mind. After a long moment of silence-as in the screams of Hylans and Shaytar on the decks above and below and the constant ring of gun fire-the lights suddenly shut down. Marcani's stance stiffened but he didn't budge. He knew that this deck was of high significance, the bridge would not allow power to it to be lost so easily.

"What the hell?" A few warriors questioned no one in particular as they peered around in the darkness. They all, simultaneously, put pressure on the left side of their helmets near their eyes, and there slid a thin piece of green glass covering their right eye. It activated immediately allowing them to all see in the darkness that now enveloped them. The Paladin did no such thing, he didn't want to make any sudden movements…he knew what was responsible for the power cut-off now. He could feel it, it was so close…much too close. After a moment of two, Marcani reluctantly reached for his silver mithril helmet that he had been holding at his side. It had one long slit across it for his eyes with more characters lining its borders. A large cross was, too, engraved around the eye slit, with the center of the cross being the eyes' position and the bottom being the mouth's; there, on the helmet, were small vertical slits for his breathing and speaking. His hands placed it over his head tightly and he sighed mentally with relief. The paladin's fingers then wrapped tightly around the hilt of his sheathed sword, waiting patiently for the monstrosity he knew was there to reveal itself. Several minutes went by, however, with not one demonic sound…and soon it began to test his patience. He knew it was simply the demon influencing him, but he did not care, it was time.

Marcani growled impatiently, "Come out, Demon!" The Paladin violently tore his sword from its sheath with a zealous frenzy and readied himself. The darkness was no issue for him, he could easily sense all around him. Demons, however, though obvious when alone for their satanic energies corrupt all around them, when with a concentration of their followers, the Shaytar, it was difficult to discern a difference or a specific location. There was a presence above them, but it seemed too weak, Marcani was searching for a stronger source.

"Demons…?" One warrior responded shaking with fear. Not many warriors, or any normal beings for that matter, had actually seen a demon in person, and when one did, few lived to tell the tale. There was a low snarl down the right hall, not too far it seemed, from where the warriors there lied. It was a spine chilling snarl as it went through its disgusting clicks, along with the usual whispers and chatter of the warp every time the creature opened its mouth in the background of his growl. The whispers were plain maddening, making it seem as though they're all around, within, and never-ending. Incoherent as it was, one could at times discern some words, many of them being even beyond the demonic tongue, however, made it difficult. It had been heard, even, that if one heard them for too long, the whispers would never cease until the victim would go mad, speaking in the very language of the whisper. Suddenly, Marcani could see it… crouched in the corner, on the verge of striking, with a large sword that had much too wide of a blade to be anywhere near balanced. The warriors could not see him; it must have been shrouding itself with confusion striking the very mental cores of the warriors…perhaps even his own.

Marcani glared straight into its eyes, and at that point it knew it was spotted. It was at that point that it was obvious that it was a male demon, for his stature was much more rigid and his eyes a blazing fire of blood lust, not a dark cold abyss of chaos and death. He smiled for a moment and then rose from his crouched stance.

He leapt into the air with an unnatural speed at the warriors in front of him, but Marcani met him mid-air. They crashed to the ground with their swords in a lock as a ripple of power emanated from the locking point of their blades and threw the warriors around them, who couldn't even keep up with the intense speed to even see the demon pouncing at them. All they noticed was a sudden shockwave throwing them into the walls that surrounded them.

Both the demon and the paladin returned to the air above them, lifting themselves with the power they controlled, instead of physical strength, and after a short barrel roll in the air from both of them, they found themselves facing one another.

Marcani growled, "Come demon, or will you go back to the shadows and cower like the traitor you are?" The demon snapped back with a horrid snarl in the ancient demonic tongue. The warriors stood there, horror-stricken, utterly confused, but Marcani knew the words.

"You shall drown in the lies you've been told and choke on the pathetic encouragements of strength."

"We shall see demon…" Marcani responded simply and took the first swing against the demon.