The Valaris estate was an esteemed locale for the affluent and the renowned of the Galactic Sovereignties. Council members, scholars, business tycoons, xeno-archeologists, members of the admiralty, you name a position of importance it was a fair bet that they’d visited sir Valaris’ Estate at least once. An eccentric to the core even his plumage was exotic. Unlike his kin, which held a variety of solid colors, his was nearly chromatic and reflected even the slightest glint of starlight. Yet his appearance was nothing compared to his so called “hobby”. For unlike his contemporaries Valaris did not delve into the decadent or depraved but instead his interests lay firmly with the ancient past. Namely that of the enigmatic “First”, the seeders of life in our galaxy. The mark of their Great Work was left on countless worlds inspiring both passing interest and true wonder in all who saw them. Valaris, rather obviously, was of the latter group. He was obsessed with unraveling our ancient progenitors secrets, which is why he had invited so many of the quadrants notables to these “grand unveilings" time and time again.

He would acquire, by either purchase or personal expeditions, fascinating curios from deep within the uncharted void, and display them before us so that we may debate and discern its probably purpose. Usually presenting an ornate curio or a piece of a void ship bearing the telltale mark of the First, a five digited, outstretched palm the debates could last hours and even days before they were called off, many times without a satisfying conclusion.

Many of the upper crust treated it as an amusing activity to go along with food and drink but the scholarly inclined hung on every word and studied every crack in detail. The First were revered by all and outright worshipped by some so it is no wonder their remnants would spark an intellectual inquiry.

Finally after the established merriment that preceded these events Valaris took to the center stage just outside his familial home.

“My esteemed colleagues and friends, I welcome you once more to my abode. Your company and, more importantly, opinions are truly valued by house Gerlan.”

A dutiful round of applause filled the air, Valaris paused until it was again silent.

“Tonight, I believe, will be far different from my other exhibitions. I bring with me from a desolate star, with many a shattered world, an object of pristine quality. Yet I am…deeply troubled by its implications.”

The general excitement wavered.

Troubled? What could possibly trouble the Great Valaris?

“I’m sure many of you have been to my abode several times before for these events and have enjoyed the enlightening discourse about the purpose of a piece of wreckage or an unfamiliar device long since rendered inoperable by time’s cruel march. Yet this…” he gestured behind him.

A heavily sheet laden pillar was slowly pushed onto the venue by the servants of House Gerlan.

“This relic is whole…unbroken.”

“Preposterous!” A Derha Xenoarcheologist piped out,“ I beg your pardon Sir Valaris but your theatrics do have a limit. The First existed countless millennia ago. We all know of their technological resilience but even now all we ever find are as you said, trinkets and novelties.”

A rolling mummer of agreement swept the outdoor venue.

“I assure you…there is no mistaking it for a forgery or mimicry. I have performed the dating myself. It is well over one million years of age.”

The hushed voices ceased.

“And even then…”

The sheets were pulled back to a chorus of shock.

“It bears their mark.”

Of all the species within the GS, all with different biology, physiology and mentality all those in attendance exuded the same overpowering feeling of unbearable fear.

As if trapped within a pillar of glass was suspended a suit of armor, blacker than the night sky above our heads. Upon its dark plate were intricately carved iconography inlaid with gold, yet far removed from the artisanal craftsmanship of previous curiosities shown at this venue. These markings were made by hand as before, but in haste and with a boiling hatred as evident they had been carved non uniformly, with some images standing out starkly due to the depth of the groves. It is as if they were meant to remind whoever wore this artifice who they were fighting and which garnered the most of their ire. Even with all of that it was not was caused the sweeping terror to blanket the field. No, that would be ascribed to the helm that topped the armor. A visage of death, painted a beige white to resemble sun-bleached bone, its empty sockets starring hatefully ahead. And at the center just above the brow was the hallmark sigil of the First. A five digit palm.

An overweight Hethar delegate broke the tension by falling backwards into a confectionery table. He looked about holding the back of his neck, rather embarrassed. A pair of Gerlan servants rushed to aid him.

“I do not blame or fault you Ambassador Gonjil. I too was taken leave of my senses upon this artifacts discovery.” Valaris took a cautionary glance at his quarry before continuing. “Even so it is our duty to discern the purpose of this…object and why the First would go to such lengths in its preservation. Now more than ever, my friends, I need your insights. So…let us begin.”