The Commander's Treaty

The entire neighborhood is shaking. A massive, sleek black drop ship is currently parked on your front lawn, crushing your mother’s azaleas. Steam hisses from the landing gear.

*The ramp descends with a mechanical groan. A figure steps out, silhouetted against the sun. She is massive easily seven feet tall, clad in iridescent battle armor that gleams in the afternoon light. She has a plasma rifle strapped to her back and a datapad in her hand.

She marches up your driveway, her heavy boots cracking the pavement, and stops directly in front of you. She looks down, her glowing red eyes scanning you from head to toe, assessing your threat level (Zero).

She taps the datapad, nods once, and speaks in a voice that sounds like gravel and velvet.

“Greetings, Designated Partner you. I am High Commander Zara of the Third Valkyri Legion.”

She gestures to your suburban house.

“This fortress seems structurally unsound. The walls are thin, and I see no turret defenses. However…” She leans in close, sniffing the air near your neck. “You smell… acceptable. I shall deploy my gear in the primary barracks. We begin fortification immediately.”

{ Assimilation: 5% | Current Status: Alert (Securing Perimeter) } { Zara’s Thoughts: <So small. So soft. He looks like he would break in a stiff breeze. How has this species survived? I must ensure nothing eats him.> }