NationStates Jolt Archive

It had been a rather hectic week.

The head of Kajal's government had, admittedly, changed quite some time ago, but the government itself had, for the most part, maintained the relationships it was currently in.

Unfortunately, the packing up and fleeing bit was rather... conspicuous, as were the embassies in Arda, themselves picked clean of anything that could possibly be of value.

The personnel, and the materials removed from the embassies, had been sent through the Ardan waygate aboard the normal transport flights, until, on the last day, the entirety of the small garrison maintained in Arda up and headed into orbit, and through the gate.

Granted, ten gravitics came through it a little later and made for the former nation of Allanea, but the announcement had just been made.

The government of Kajal had issued a statement stating that they were severing all ties with Arda, effective immediately.

Far, up above Arda, a new star was born in the night sky, but only very briefly, as the destruct sequence was initialized aboard the waygate.

It was annoying, yes, but it seemed that they had run out of time. Kajal would just need to build another one over their new friends, using the supplies and personnel that had already arrived in Tareldanore.

"Unacceptable," fumed Warlord Garrand, slamming his fist on the desk. Across the room, several Overlords jumped in surprise, the sound coming to them unexpectedly. The aged Dunelnding was known for his temper, but his reflexes were quite often too fast for anyone to react to his outbursts. Thank god there wasn't a gun around.

"You." He lifted his gaze--and a finger--at the foremost of the men, a tall Easterling clad in deep crimson. "I want you to get around to Toro and his boys in the DDIA and figure out what the hell happened. To be honest I'm not expecting much--in truth it doesn't really matter. In fact, it'd be nice if we could just get them all to figure out what all's going on in the Five Kingdoms itself, if anything. If this is part of some larger plot I want to know now."

The man saluted quickly and bowed. "Yes Lord Garrand, as you wish," he said loudly. Turning on his heels, he vanished in short order.

Garrand turned his gaze to the rest of the men--five more aides there were assembled, all ready for whatever task Garrand should deign to appoint them. Truth was, he was always the type that liked to handle things himself. Turning in his chair, he rose slowly and clasped his hands behind his back. "I want the five of you to get round to the Marshals and arrange for the mobilization of our reserves. I've been authorized by the Man Downstairs to activate everything. Gravyards will see their ships off within 36 hours--or most of them at least."

***
Video Transmission
To: Pretty Much Everyone
From: The Five Kingdoms of Melkor Unchained, Foreign Ministry
Re: The Kajal Situation

"As some of you may know, the Imperium of Kajal has recently had a very interesting 'change of heart,' wherein some incompetent twat in his or her infinite wisdom decided to remove the state of Kajal from the benefits of the Arda Alliance, and henceforth Metus as well. Adding to their apparent.. shall we say egregious lack of survival instincts, the embarrasingly inept administration has elected to throw themselves into the huge, steaming cesspool that we call the Tareldanore hegemony.

Needless to say, the Imperium of Kajal is now an enemy of the Five Kingdoms, and this is a feud we will not soon see ignored. I call upon all Ardans to assist us in eradicating these vermin; and soon the Five Kingdoms will call on Metus to follow suit.

We must punish the inept, and excise the weak. Kajal is both, and for these shortcomings I will not rest until those responsible for this treason are brought before our wrath.

Jay Reaven
Foreign Minister of the Five Kingdoms
http://upl.silentwhisper.net/uplfolders/upload5/Reaven.JPG

Riga, High Inquisitor of the Red Blade, the chosen of Lopnel, had to be shuffled out of his bedchambers to respond to this eventful news. For some reason or another, it was brought to him to let out an international call. This forever shall remain a mystery why Riga, the Leader of the Juggernaughts, the Elite Squad of crazed Paladins and Crusaders, self-picked by the Inquisitor himself, had this responsibility, but nevertheless, this is how it went:

"Huh? Those spacemonkeys flew back to some island full of elves? You woke me up for this? You stupid fuckers. Why the hell should I care what a bunch of oxygen-retarded humans do with their shiny blue portal gates that take weeks to build where I could ask Dorin to do the same and it'd be 15 minutes? So what if they have land on some red planet near us. I couldn't give more of a damn. You know what it means to me, or to anything that happens on this planet? Jack shit, that's what. The more land you get, the more that people are going to try to take it, why do you think we live all around the Region without having any land to call our own? Can't take from us what doesn't belong to us. Just because you have a stupid-ass flag doesn't mean you can actually call a territory yours. If they're so evolved, they should realize that they own only their souls, if humans even have them.

"So, why the hell should I care again? They're living with elves now? Fine by me. You can either be a bitch in one side or a bitch in the other. Some people like whips, other people like wooden paddles. Whatever slaps their asses, that's none of my business. Masochists freak me out anyway. So we're supposed to keep a lookout for these monkeys to torture and destroy them huh? Shouldn't be too hard, they were ugly folk to begin with. I'll be sure to tell the Trolls some day...or not.

"So let them go and give 'em the Sign of Koth for me when they leave. I didn't care for them when they called us friends and invited us to their little space place, and I don't care when we're not invited proper. Doesn't impact me in any bit. If you'll excuse me, there's dorn manure that needs attention, and picking up shit is a lot more important than worrying about these idiots."

The Hague, Knootoss
Random people talking
"Hmmm... this looks like a good development."
"Yeah, I heard they sent Kajal a fruit basket."
"Sure. Its nice to see METUS fall apart. Who is next?"
"Greater Prussia maybe?"
"Hmmm... dunno. But we'll see."

An Official Communique to The Nation of Kajal

Fools art thou for calling forth the wrath of all-Metus. Your people will suffer, and your cities shall burn. We shall tear the flesh from your bones, and rape your women, and eat your children. We shall slaughter every last one of you, and scatter your ashes to the wind. We shall devour your souls, and assure that you will be completely and utterly forgotten.

“I doubt that could have worked better,” said Asirnoth, leaning on his hand, drumming his fingers against the table. The hologram of the Emperor smiled, “Oh, I suspect that it could have done so,” he said, eventually, “but nonetheless, everything seems to be on schedule. I doubt the Ardans can put up a credible fight. We know that their only established stellar combatants there are Morgoth’s own fleet, and the Manmen Kabal, and they’re not exactly dependable or reliable.”

“Quite,” replied the latter, “any other fleets they could come up with to attack the Kajali would be green and inexperienced, and I question if they’d be able to reach the Pleiades. Doubtless they’re thinking about trying to storm the gate the Kajali are building above Tareldanorë. I’d pay money to see that, even assuming the Kajali can’t disconnect it – unlikely that, we can after all – it’s the very epitome of a chokepoint. They’d be slaughtered the moment they passed through the gate, as it were.”

“You don’t think they’d try and invade Kajal Mars do you?”

The two C’tan and the numerous minions around the table exploded into uproarious laughter. That would be funny. Eventually, it was decided to dispatch a flotilla to Tareldanorë to help protect the Kajal Imperium’s only significant Sol asset.

**Tag**

Warlord Althalon idly drummed his fingers on his desk, staring absently at the massive holographic display in front of him. The mobilization was well under way, with a fleet and a half ready to depart and several thousand troops already in transports. Back home, he figured the Uruk Hai had been worked into a frenzy, and were more likely than not in the throes of their pre-war rituals. Angband was probably a screaming cacaphony borne of hundreds of thousands of gibbering Uruks, and for the moment he was rather glad that Aurontel was very quiet by comparison.

He was also glad, as it were, that there had been absolutely no follow up to the request to remove the inhibitor field around Jove; something he probably should have done after crushing the Thelasi some months ago. Now asking him to take it down would probably be as pointless as trying to flood Utumno with a bucket full of water. The field had always helped to set his mind at ease, rightly or wrongly.

Suddenly, the previous display on the holopad vanished, replaced with Fleet Admiral Ahadi Il-Amir's leering visage. "Sir!" he began quickly, with a slight bow. "Fleet mobilization is well ahead of schedule. Current count says the 3rd Fleet is ready to depart, and the 1st and 2nd have only to wait for frigates to be crewed and fighters to be armed. At this rate, we will be ready for an assault in a matter of days."

Althalon heaved a sigh, absently flicking a paper clip across his desk. "Excellent. Groundside mobilization is also going very well; we're expecting our first transports from the Five Kingdoms here within the next 72 hours. Stay in touch, and be sure to check in with Field Marshal Sergoyan every 12 hours for updates from Ground Control."

"Yes my Lord," came the reply, accompanied with another bow. "I shall see it done. The Kajali will bleed."

Althalon's eyes flashed. "Careful Admiral. We don't want to be overestimating ourselves here. You know and I know that we're potentially badly outgunned in space: it's always been our weakness whether you want to admit it or not. Do not let the strength of these fleets and previous victories lull you into a false sense of complacency, my friend. If this operation is to succeed we'll need you to know when you're defeated every bit as much as when you have the upper hand. I want it done fast, I want it done brutally, and I want it done right. No fucking around or else I'll have your head on a pike. Understood?"

Ahadi nodded. "Of course, my Lord."

***
Back on earth, similar procedures were also underway. All across the Five Kingdoms, gravships were becoming an increasingly common sight in the sky, with a whole fleet mobilized within the first 48 hours, and two more were well on their way. Climbing lazily to the upper reaches of the atmosphere, the massive hulks waited silently for the reinforcements they knew were coming. The 3rd and 6th had been called off patrol in the Southern Sea and Dunland, respectively, and were making their way to Utumno for refitting and maintenance.

On the ground, reserves were called on in great volume, with citizens from Khand to Far Harad answering their master's call. Armories were clogged morning noon and night with reservists clamoring for weapons, eager and ready for the fight ahead.

All six Furnaces were prepped. By all accounts, the Dark Lord was not happy.

It was a day of awe for the citizens of Brass Rails; never before had they seen such a thing. Indeed, this was the first time the Greifan armada was to see any kind of action. Hundreds of ships had sat idely in their underground docks for years, waiting for their Mistress's call. Today she called, the Greifan blood-hunger would finally be quenched.

Tens of thousands of Railians, out and about on their business in the bustling metropolis of Greifsgrad, stood staring up at the sky, awestruck by the majesty of the IXth Imperial Star Armada. A great Blackstone Fortess, carrying hundreds of thousands of personnel, crawled slowly up through the Railian atmosphere. The sky around it seemed to shimmer and bend, bearing testimony to its titanic struggle with the planet's gravitational pull. As it crept higher and higher, more ships followed. Battleships, Cruisers, and Destroyers tore upward and past their flagship, as if eager to get out of the Railian orbit and at their enemies. One who bothered counting could have picked out almost fifty ships in all, fifty ships which obviously held hundreds more in their bellies.

The IXth ISA grouped just outside of the Railian orbit, and sent a brief transmission to Lord Althalon.

--Herodotus, High Admiral of The Greif--

We have mustered what forces we could in this short time. Unfortunatly, it is only a fraction of our full potential. The rest will be following shortly, mobilization does take such a painfully long time. Our full nineth armada is currently at your disposal, as well as the whole of the nineth army, as we have had the foresight to keep these forces on call. We are currently grouped outside the orbit of Brass Rails, and are prepared to move on your signal. I await your input.

Herodotus Out

"Well, we can hardly say that was unexpected."

"Makes you somewhat glad that there's a bit of distance between here and Sol, doesn't it."

"Not particularly. It's not as if our old 'friends' are entirely without means to strike here."

"Still, we aren't exactly too ready for a full scale war. We've only got ten of the new gravitics in service, after all..."

"Yes, and they are each a little under half the size of what we're expecting to have to combat above the cities. Quite helpful."

"Imperatrix, we have other resources..."

"Of course. I've ordered the 1st and 2nd Imperial Task Forces back here - the Martian ships will remain untouched by our mobilizations. Think of them as a possible reserve force..."

"Of course... but how are we to combat sky furnaces with a mere ten gravitics?"

"We don't. We build more."

A small hologram came into existence between the two speakers, showing the shipyards over Solanna, which were, in all respects, something of a monstrosity.

"Laedan reported the completion of the 12th gravitic early this morning. Since then, it's completed initial shakedown runs."

"Two more gravitics will hardly a difference make..."

"Look closer."

The hologram itself displayed not only the shipyards, of course, but the contents of the construction bays. For the past several weeks, they had been largely empty, of course, but the hologram showed a different image.

"Wartime production levels?"

"Indeed. You shall note that eight of the bays are designated 'Sheyra Gravitic', but we expect we'll be lucky to get a _single_ one into service, even if we rush it, before an attack occurs. Even so, it's quite likely we may lose _all_ of the gravitics in service now."

"You seem to think that we are not horribly outmatched in this matter, Imperatrix."

"I fully expect that we will be faced by multiple battle fleets.

This is why we have effectively recalled the entirety of the Imperial Navy. We'll likely need all of it."

"It's, er... rather well known that our vessels are not exactly... the largest, nor strongest."

"No, they aren't, however, they were designed to operate primarily in the interstellar medium. While our enemy's vessels are certainly capable... We have seen that they are not, shall we say... particularly intended for that role."

"Of course, Imperatrix... is there anything else we can do?"

"One thing... order all carriers to wartime overload. It will be cramped, for their crews, but I feel we'll need the extra few fighter craft it will afford us."

"A wise plan, Imperatrix."

"And one more thing... Deploy battle group Loki to Earth immediately. I want those old embassies turned to ash."

---

Battle group Loki had been formed originally to provide system defense to Derivia, one of the now-core worlds of Kajal. Considering that the rest of the combined fleets had been recalled, and the battle group itself replaced with the 2nd Naval until it's return, things were looking as secure as they'd get.

Thusly, when Loki appeared in orbit over Arda about 12 hours after the first mobilizations on both sides began, they expected to get shot at quite readily, and it was their job to divert attention to themselves.

Any incoming fire would be welcomed, although preferably not taken.

Now, to do the initial job. Using data gathered while the Ardan embassies were still staffed, the vessels rolled, bringing their broadside tubes to bear, each loaded with shells not dissimilar to what Allanea had faced earlier. The particular material wasn't really identified as anything other then 'usable,' as the material needed only be dense and able to be fired from what was essentially a mass driver with a lid.

The battle group had preloaded over Derivia with enough ordinance for two complete strikes, and then the tubes would switch to the standard armament.

The embassies were targeted, and the first broadsides let loose, the shells screaming down at speeds that would normally allow most vessels an escape from gravity in times well below what was normal.

The embassies would be reduced to smoking craters. The surroundings were a separate matter. Rolling the battle group to bring the other broadsides to bear, they paused, if briefly, while the commanders digested the implications of the second strikes.

While they were certainly going to be no where near as accurate as the destruction of the embassies, they would, in any other war, cause a good deal of non-combatant casualties.

Targetting what the scans tentatively identified as possible ships, as well as preassigned targets, the second broadside was let loose, and the ships of the battle group reloaded for stellar combat, setting out on a quick sub-light cruise away from Earth.

Thusly, when Loki appeared in orbit over Arda about 12 hours after the first mobilizations on both sides began, they expected to get shot at quite readily, and it was their job to divert attention to themselves.

Any incoming fire would be welcomed, although preferably not taken.

Now, to do the initial job. Using data gathered while the Ardan embassies were still staffed, the vessels rolled, bringing their broadside tubes to bear, each loaded with shells not dissimilar to what Allanea had faced earlier. The particular material wasn't really identified as anything other then 'usable,' as the material needed only be dense and able to be fired from what was essentially a mass driver with a lid.

The battle group had preloaded over Derivia with enough ordinance for two complete strikes, and then the tubes would switch to the standard armament.

The embassies were targeted, and the first broadsides let loose, the shells screaming down at speeds that would normally allow most vessels an escape from gravity in times well below what was normal.

The embassies would be reduced to smoking craters. The surroundings were a separate matter. Rolling the battle group to bring the other broadsides to bear, they paused, if briefly, while the commanders digested the implications of the second strikes.

While they were certainly going to be no where near as accurate as the destruction of the embassies, they would, in any other war, cause a good deal of non-combatant casualties.

Targetting what the scans tentatively identified as possible ships, as well as preassigned targets, the second broadside was let loose, and the ships of the battle group reloaded for stellar combat, setting out on a quick sub-light cruise away from Earth.

Unfortunately, due to the High Orcs re-awakening, the Elemental Defense had been booted back up. As Kajal was now seen as an enemy, his targeting systems from Orbit would experience massive frequency jamming through anything going through the Troposphere to look into the region, as the Air Elementals soaring over the mainland (Kalessin is left alone) are instructed to immediately block any electronic frequencies from all unidentified sources going into or out of the region. The entire place was filled with dense clouds, making it extremely overcast and putting severe pressure on visually looking through by telescopic satellite view. If he was to fire, he would do so absolutely blind.

This was the Shield to protect the High Orcs from fools who would dare believe that their technology level could give them any kind of advantage over their somewhat primitive civilization. Due to their sparsity over the region, it effectively became a shield all over Arda, and one not spoken of often, but respected by those whom knew what it was and what it could do.

The Warlocks of the Golden Grove effectively controlled it from their forest clearing, and although the High Orcs had no real ability to see into space, they were prepared not to fear what would reign down upon them unknowingly. It was their wish to remain ignorant of it, but they were in no way stupid because of it.

While the massive clouds usually present over Arda had already rendered much of the second salvo a matter of firing blind, the possible targeting of enemy gravitics was rendered rather ineffective as well, and thusly the shells sped downwards, to meet whatever they would.

However, the destruction of the former Kajali embassies was not impeded to such a great degree, for hitting those buildings was simply a matter of entering the coordinates manually, and considering the orbit that the battlegroup had occupied, it was not as if the targets were going to move to any great degree.

Transmission to The Five Kingdoms, From Ineffable High Command
The Ineffable Starfleets are being prepared for war. The third fleet is completing it's repairs and will soon return to Sol from the Seven Systems. When it does the full might of the Ineffable Starfleet will be brought down upon the enemies of Metus.

OOC: Should've posted earlier, now I have to go offline now; hence the briefness.

Raptor squadron was considered the elite of the fleet’s escort squadron. And they it was that streaked away from their station above Venus first. The six ‘jackal’ class escorts tore toward the region of Tareldanorë, redlining their sub light engines the whole way.

The next chapter in the the conflict spanning millenias of time was about to be written. Elf and Orc were once again to face each other on the battlefield. Northwestern Liang, a tiny, insignificant nation compared to superpowers such as the Ctan and Melkor Unchained, was almost certainly to play little to no role in the coming conflict. The dwarves who made up 60-80 percent of the population (for the government could only estimate) clamored for war on Melkor and his minions, revenge on Narguzbad for the Nirniath Arnoediad and the death of their king. Revenge on the Rakhâs (and this cry was somewhat stronger) for Azanûlbizar and the Five Armies and the Lonely Mountain. But the Liangjin, their human counterparts on the surface? They wanted nothing that their perceived, feared subjects beneath the earth (and now beneath the Martian waters) wanted. Dao Yorinaga was not necessarily a fan of Melkor's, but he was even less likely to comply with something the dwarves wanted, for he hated them with a passion. And so the nation was split top to bottom, the dwarves supporting the elves and Yorinaga refusing outright to go to war for the anti-Melkor coalition, but daring not go to war for Melkor because of a feared revolution. And so, if the status quo was upheld, the Domain was destined to watch this one from the sidelines, with official policy (aka Yorinaga) leaning towards Melkor but of course, not willing to do anything about it.

The news of war between Kajal and Melkor comes as a surprise to the woefully understaffed RSID (robotic sol intelligence district). Next to no knowledge of modern politics only compounds the matter.

But it does not take long for gravitronic sensors to detect major gravship movements.

"It appears the furnaces are out," announces Watch Officer Ivan Zevon, looking at the gravitronic sensor data.

"Yeah. It does. Big things, aren't they? Those furnaces."

The two watch officers, currently responsible for monitoring the entire earth, go back to what they were doing.

--Herodotus, High Admiral of The Greif--

We have mustered what forces we could in this short time. Unfortunatly, it is only a fraction of our full potential. The rest will be following shortly, mobilization does take such a painfully long time. Our full nineth armada is currently at your disposal, as well as the whole of the nineth army, as we have had the foresight to keep these forces on call. We are currently grouped outside the orbit of Brass Rails, and are prepared to move on your signal. I await your input.

Herodotus Out

The reply came quickly:

"Send your active forces to Io to rally with our ships, and possibly with fleets from TST. In exactly two hours time I will deactivate inhibitor fields in sectors twelve through fifteen to allow FTL transport to Aurontel. Be advised that fleet traffic is heavy in the area: due to constant reordering of the formations and such our fleets require a 10km berth on all sides for safe maneuvering. Coordinate with TST fleet command for a possible raid on the Kajali homeworld. Upon your arrival I will beam to your ships coordinates for a deep space rally point, as I'm not interested in the tactical implications of jumping straight from Io to Kajal.

More specific commands to follow once communications become more reliable and secure.

Althalon out."

***
Back in the Five Kingdoms

Dash Hattori scolwed as he eyed the scope. "Goddamn idiots," he muses, watching the shells fall errantly around the countryside, save for those which had targetted their old embassy in Ali'Staan. The city lacked the protection of Angband and Utumno's trademark shrouds, and thus made for an easy target. The embassy was easily levelled, causing quite a scene in the executive quarter of Ali'Staan.

Only problem was, Kajal was hardly the only embassy in the area. Buildings from a host of other countries, from Ravenspire to Wretchengard were also in the quarter, and as such were also key candidates for collateral damage. Early reports were sketchy at best, with initial estimates ranging from a dozen to fifty civilians killed, and millions in damages.

All across the Empire, enormous cannons emerged from mountains and crevasses, pointing skyward. One by one the massive cannons came online, returning the favor with a blistering salvo of heavy surface-to-orbit artillery. Helped along by a generous coilgun launch, shell and missile alike sped through the atmosphere, rising towards the Kajali craft inexorably. The mainland had been built to fend for itself in a situation like this, with fleet support frequently being hours away at Io.

[OC: attack summary--A coilgun launch and a bigass salvo of earth-based artillery... we'll say 750 rounds and 200 missiles [bearing in mind of course that this launch is coming from every launch station in the country--at least those within firing range of the Fleets. They come in waves of about fifty, launched about 30-45 seconds apart to minimise the chances of them colliding]. The gravships are pretty much staying where they are, and none of them are launching any ordinance: if anything their movement is strictly limited to evasive maneuvers]

Back in the Five Kingdoms

Dash Hattori scolwed as he eyed the scope. "Goddamn idiots," he muses, watching the shells fall errantly around the countryside, save for those which had targetted their old embassy in Ali'Staan. The city lacked the protection of Angband and Utumno's trademark shrouds, and thus made for an easy target. The embassy was easily levelled, causing quite a scene in the executive quarter of Ali'Staan.

Only problem was, Kajal was hardly the only embassy in the area. Buildings from a host of other countries, from Ravenspire to Wretchengard were also in the quarter, and as such were also key candidates for collateral damage. Early reports were sketchy at best, with initial estimates ranging from a dozen to fifty civilians killed, and millions in damages.


"INCOMING!!" shouted Velin Meliviel of the Dorn Riders. His Dorn reared up. pulling on the reigns as he pointed his sword toward the dense Dorn Forest. The calvalry squads had been practicing for a jousting tournament held on a biweekly basis out in the country side when the salvos rained down upon them in the rolling countryside in Angband.

A huge explosion hit not 50 feet from Velin, throwing him off his mount and a dozen feet in the air. Velin fell down hard, not wearing any armor besides a light chain mesh over his broad chest. His noble features dripping with sudden mud as the smoke clogged his visual clarity. Once he had felt his arms again, he pushed himself up. His legs hurt, but he could feel them, and that was a good sign. He looked behind him, and shrapnel had blown his Dorn mount, named Galendalia, to three pieces, and it lay bleeding out, and it's breathing slowing. Velin struggled to turn around and crawl toward his beloved pet, and stroked its head as it sneered once, before its neck went limp, and it was gone.

Growling, Velin looked around as the dust was clearing. There was more than 30 bodies strewn about by the random orbital shell. He saw them fall through the sky, like fire from the Heavens, striking into the 'abandoned' countryside, which was dotted with Orc civilizations that cared little for anything outside their nation. Velin was pleased that none fell into the direction of the forest or in the mountains. The High Orc lifted himself up to stand, but his legs were still overwhelmed with shock and wobbled a bit. He brushed his orange hair back, as his ponytail had come loose. His vision was slightly blurry, and upon placing his hand on his face, he figured that he contrived a major contusion around his left eye. He must have landed on a rock...

Velin wasn't quite sure of where to go. He could gear growls for assistance. That was the trouble of being mounted during an explosion. Half the time the animal falls on you, causing massive skeletal damage. Such physical trauma usually takes but a couple hours before the hemorraging kills you. Extensive magical healing or amputation. Velin rushed over to the first thing moving. It indeed was a friend from his team, named Paelian. Paelian had bested everyone else in the contest and was ranked to win the next tourney, but there he lay with his own mount on top of him, his legs crushed under the weight of the dead creature. Velin kneeled beside Paelian and gripped his hand.

"Looks like a lot of people are going to be disappointed Sunday," Paelian coughed out with morbid humor.

Velin looked solemnly at his friend. His head lowered, hair falling past his face and hanging from him. A tear ripped from his soul onto his skin as Paelian's strength let go, and his soul left him. Velin looked up, and reached for a Lance-Skell and slid it onto Paelian's hand, and placed it on Paelian's chest, closing his eyes. Velin stood up, feeling the urgency of helplessness.

A throng of Dorn Riders came by as the salvo ended. These men wore black cloaks. They were here to collect bodies. Finding Velin alive in the chaos renewed hope of survivors. Hundreds of Orcs were slaughtered mercilessly. These were civilians. These were innocents. These knew nothing of wars and cared nothing about who's shit was being flung at who. They just wanted to survive and be left alone, and Kajal denied them this due to their own pettiness.

ENCODED TRANSMISSION:
JLB ONT WGLH RSAE, VGCXNW?

Digitial Encryption:

The Rogue Pirating Nation of Defect, 1st Boarding Fleet, 2nd Boarding Fleet,3rd Landing Fleet, 5th Assault Fleet, and 6th Bombardment Fleet are coming about to make a slipspace jump. Awaiting further instructions from head fleets. We can syncronize with others. Also, be aware that we can go in first, as our fleets don't pose a threat, but will be picked up as, well, a distraction. Pryomanicaks' fleet might be deployed at a later date, but production is rather slow with men concentrating on the orbital shiping yards.

[OOC: yep. :D ]

(OOC: Given a top time of about 15 seconds to fire both broadsides, including the entire fleet's command structure hesitating before the second salvo, and taking into account travel time for ground launched artillery to reach orbit... it's somewhat unlikely the shells will land many hits, if any. I'm going to assume the missiles are capable of matching the ships in speed, etc, so that they can be a threat, though.)

"Sir, we're reading possible contacts... the jamming is interfering greatly with..."

"Ships or shells?"

"One moment sir... Contacts have left the jammed area. Confirming...

Shells, and missiles, sir."

"Hmn? Those'll need a bit of time to catch up with us, no?

Deploy standard countermeasures, and strengthen the aft shielding, if you please."

"Of course, sir."

It had taken the battlegroup, in a display of extreme synchronization, perhaps 12 seconds to fire both salvos, and start making it's way out of Earth orbit at speeds measured in appreciable fractions of c.

While not overly worried about shells, the missiles were a credible threat, if not somewhat distant, and thusly, the countermeasures exploded behind the ships, creating a cloud of assorted shrapnel that would likely stop at least some of the missiles.

---

The fleet mobilizations continued in Kajali space, as defenses around the planets were further strengthened, and the system nets brought online. While not an impenetrable system, it could make things for invaders... difficult. There was a tremendous amount of ordinance at hand, and it would doubtless be an excruciatingly long ordeal to drain the stores.

[OOC: Ok :D]

Acting as Speaker of the Metus Alliance, and having sought the counsel of the Great Ineffable Bob of the Silver Turtle as per our treaty agreement, I henceforth condemn The Imperium of Kajal as an enemy of Metus. As per the Metus charter this obligates every nation within the alliance to act to the 'Impostor Imperium's' detriment, preferrably through open warfare, be it military or economic.

Metus is also ordered, under the provisions of our arrangements to punish the Kajali for their insolence. I want to see some mobilizations, be it fleet assets or ground troops, from all member nations. I am holding the Metus counselors responsible for the activity of their alliance or lack therof, excepting the Emperor of Kalessin, who may or may not choose to defer to me for Ardan military coordinations.

Metus generals are instructed to contact Warlord Althalon on Io for coordination of fleet assets from member nations. Contributing ground forces should report to Warlord Garrand or Warlord Alkanphel in the Five Kingdoms.

Melkor, Lord of Darkness
He who Arises in Might
Emperor Eternal of the Five Kingdoms of Melkor Unchained, Lord and Master of Arda
http://upl.silentwhisper.net/uplfolders/upload5/melkor.jpg

Within the small colony of the Ashen Empire that is in Arda, within their fortress, Caractor saw a Dusk Elder observing the sky, a very abnormal event indeed. They had never seemed to care of what happens up there, unless they were sent there with the dark fleets of the Ashen Empire.

"What are you looking at, Dusk Elder?"

"... The sky... It is burning. Flashes of light in the darkness."

"Burning? Someone is attacking the mainlands?"

Caractor now too looked at the sky. The Dusk Elder had not lied.

"Interesting. But we are not to interfere."

But the Empire had not joined Arda nor Metus yet, due to the fact that they were not let to do so. Instead, they were still under the scrutiny of one of Melkor's servants. The undead have infinite patience, as their time in this realm is eternal.

And so, they did nothing.

In compliance with Kajal being declared an enemy of Metus, the Brotherhood of Nod hereby declares war on the empire of Kajal. Forces are being mobilized to the defense of our allies' assets on earth, and all assets of any Kajalian citizen or organization within Brotherhood territory have been frozen.

The Seers of Yaldos, a secret coven of those cursed with what they called “the sight” were few in number these days, fewer and fewer in number each passing year. Yet they were content, for their belief was that time went in circles. And though they might not know everything in the future, by peering into past circles with their sight. The myriad histories each told a slightly different tale. In many of those, Metus had been victorious. But in just as many, dirty tricks and subterfuge, careful application of force, and the limits of the Metan knowledge of Kajal had caused it to triumph. And more they saw, even in the present. Far from Earth, the shipyards of the Yngir were readying themselves to disgorge their great fleet. Something was afoot there…

[b]...eat your children...[/i]

Oh goody! Can we join in? We promise to bring our own sporks this time.

-Yours,
Ministry of Oversight

Lieutenant Carson blinks as her screen registers new contacts. Monitoring traffic coming and going from Io requires an alert officer at the panel as the information is relayed from Tsarainese stations and other allies in the region. She's used to seeing regular convoys and squadron movements from allies; most of them are good about declaring their schedules before they arrive. Goddess only knew how tense the region has been in the past. Part of her job was also to note unscheduled traffic and make a note numbers and trajectories. For the most part, it's been pretty routine.

This isn't, though. Massive fleet movements, approaching from insystem. Not just one, but many fleets, more than she'd ever seen. A quick glance at her calendar tells her what her gut already knows: they're not on her schedule. She stabs the comms button. "OOD to the CinC, please. Code Six."

Code Six. Trouble at Io, threat to be determined. Without warning, Admiral Sanchez herself is at her side. "What is it, Lieutenant?"

Carson points to her plot. "I don't know who they are, but they look mean. Current vector puts them on direct course to Io."

"Any word from the Tsarainese outpost?"

"Negative, Ma'am."

"All right. Sound the alert, let the Jovian League and our friends on Io know what's coming. I hope they're not looking for a rematch. Damn those inhibitors!"

Flagship of the Council; Skoromir,
Mars Orbit

Lev Aleksandrov considered the situation. A painful expression suddenly struck his face. "The C'tan."

The other scouts began to move apart as they headed for their respective search quadrants. As the units lost reliable line-of-sight, everyone would have to switch to light communication, and that would leave them vulnerable to detection. They were committed now. He lost sight of the other scouts. Only the combat ships running shotgun were still visible. They steered around smaller pieces of charred Allanean wreckage, some of it barely recognizable as being artificial.

"Suicide." He muttered, "The council will never accept this as it is. Metus considerably outnumbers us; to the point that any stratagem we might attempt will end in vain."

"Still. We can't back down on our word to the C'tan, and any Metus fleet coming in close to Mars to attack the Kajali assets on it greatly endangers the city-ship's construction nearby Mars. Destruction of the city-ship, even in any crossfire or collateral damage is not an option. Alert the entire fleet and closely guard the city-ship." Lev leaned closer. "Do not fire until fired upon, but do not let the city-ship get hit. Not even one shot must hit it."

"I have a feeling this is going to get really ugly."

"Ugly isn't the word, advisor." Lev tapped an icon on a screen, revealing short range scans coming from the lone hydrogen extraction station on Jupiter. "Metus fleets are organizing on Io. Our limited intelligence in the area has had at least revealed that the Imperium isn't quite welcome in the Jovian system." He paused, "This is likely to get even worse. Far worse."

The fleet gathered in what would be called C-space in some quarters, its meeting place a simulation, flawless, of a picturesque mountainside, green and fresh, the table they sat at upon a wide balcony, for it had to be, there were over one hundred and twenty nine gathered there, outside a marble villa. The sun shone brightly all the time, and there was nothing but the finest weather in such a simulation. “And so,” said one of the leaders, walking upon the table, his long golden, deep green and claret red outfit billowing in the soft breeze that the place sported at all times, “your destination is upon the path of Earth’s orbit, some twenty five million kilometres ahead of the planet -”

“So the world will come into contact with us in ten days?” one asked.

“Indeed. And at that time, Arda shall be presented to you. Even if they merely empty their forces from Io, their defence shall be weakened somewhat as they have to plug the gaps. We hope to exploit this…” he said, “sooner than they would think that we will.” He paused in front of the avatar of one of the smaller and younger ships, “You however, I have a special task for. You are to go to United Indiastan, to take this message from the Emperor to Minister Clerebold, and this from me to one Admiral Jaipal Singh Dosanjh.” He extended a pair of scrolls, sealed, representing encrypted electronic messages, to the other, who took them, and nodded.

Earthspace

The satellites look down through the dust and the cloud, transmitting raw data to the computronium lodes spread through the Co-Prosperity Sphere. They aren't built to read all the license plates below - they are, however, built to maintain a general awareness of what goes on across wide areas.

This definitely includes rising ionization tracks, large clusters of drives, and teleporting large biologicals conducting an efficient though longwinded, tedious and ultimately due to the sheer numbers of cheap instruments futile orbital purge.

On one level the the tiered myriads of drones are a networked intelligence agent with NAI and SAI swimming through its crystal waters.

On another it is the eye of a large, lazily lethal beast. And it looks past the whorls of mental semen spewed out by the terminally inept with amused contempt. Kalessin, there's a challenge. And the Princes are pretty and the Barons make good enemies.

The Leopard Sow guides the machine-souls past the cloudcover and, now that her attention is on Arda, gazes on, but not past, the pretty, pretty Kalessin defenses.

Io

"Food for Jove! Hearts and skins! They come and their blood is ours to take for la Tigra and Lancaster and sleeping Jove!"

The crowd howls, slamming blades through hard skin and pouring blood onto the lava below the habitat. Blood chars as it falls, some of it human flowing from bodies more than half advanced materials. The figures of La Tigra and Lancaster flare, lines casting auroras a dozen kilometers up and Io roars as a hundred thousand hearts are torn from feral Hordesmen and Amarthi. Some lost humans. And some fine Tigran athletes reaping the reward of their skill, dying in blissful agony.

"Wrap yourselves in the skins of the sacrifices and let them fight with you!"

Knives slice and heads are taken for the skullracks that guard the leyline-figuers like a Chinese Wall of death.

"Hearts and skins! They come and we will bleed with them!"

The howls of throats and spirits and a tide-tortured moon reverberate across the World of Fire.

Rhea

"Tell me again how the Tigrans responded, Leftenant Taggart."

The shadow across Guards Captain Servalan's tiny garden resigns itself to providing his superior with more amusement. At least he wasn't present in the flesh so any of her other games wouldn't leave marks.

"Guards Captain, the Tigrans are presently engaged in mass sacrifice to La Tigra and Lucious Lancaster. Psychic activity is up, massively. As many as seventy per cent of their habitats are remounting energy weapons to fire into space. Aside from the ineffectual Tigran response, we retain command authority over the orbital defense systems."

"And I see that your delivery is on the way. Aren't you happy to be reporting from Io. Leftenant?"

Sweat and blood and brimstone are added to the shadow, and flickering yellow light superimposes itself on the room as Taggart shares some of the ambience outside his armored graftsuit.

"You will be glad to know that I shall be sending a Guardsman asset to aid you, Leftenant Taggart." She reaches out and lightly strokes a sleeping form's hair. "Delightful creature. Expect Guards Corporal Wilkins to drop within hours. While she possesses Guardsman authority, her purpose does not involve that authority, Leftenant. She is a..." Servalan smiles, eyes twinkling, showing teeth brightly in effortless dominance.

"Specialist."

Jupiterspace

The delivery drifts inwards like an asteroid shower, except asteroids are not usually heavily stealthed. Heat shields and ballutes and airbrakes surround the payloads as they drop from Jupiter's nadir on an trajectory like a high-incline far ecliptic orbit. The destination: Jupiter atmosphere at just over fifty kilometers per second.

And around Io, another set of "planned deliveries". Rock and metal is kicked out of freighters and scatters into orbit. It's blatantly obvious what it is - another batch of suicidal warsats, or maybe just rock and metal decoys. The Io belt has torn into Melkorese assets before, and it's stood between Thelasi and Melkorese assets ready to tear into the former.

Today, it surrounds a world that holds Burning Mountain, and NDA holdings kept in part by allies.

Defect Asteriod, Hidden in the Hemoth Belt.

"Sir, the word is final, tell the Rovers to be ready for a slipspace jump at any time. We have just recived word from Melkor."
General Addimus gazed out to the rest of the Ja'Raith System. He didn't see why they were doing this. It wasn't his problem that Barbarosea was in some allience that needed help. None the less, when Pryomanicaks calls, you answer.
"Very Good, tell Admiral Johnson to prepare the fleet."
"Aye sir."

Rovers
The Defect Fleets were almost ready for a slipspace jump, and the only thing holding them back was they didn't have cordinates. Adm. Johnson is trying to estlabish contact with Warlord Althalon for insturctions.

With pulse after pulse of spilt energy, the fleet began to arrive, not from Sentinel One, the great bastion of the C’tan in the Solar System. Nor from Sentinel Two, nor even from the squadrons now settled over Tareldanorë, nor the “small” ship racing toward India. These came from a place called Taeonash, a great reserve of ships, the hidden home of the war-fleet, in a deserted system far from civilisation. Ship after ship after ship.

Secret codes were unveiled, and knowledge that the ships never knew they had came to the forefront of their minds. Forbidden armaments were put in for construction, munitions of terrible power. Soon they were readying themselves for the attack. Though it was days away still, and the planet was over nine days away. More came, and girded themselves up for war, ever ready lest their enemies strike even as they rallied.

The shining glaciers of Europa were a tangible dream. Not one that existed on the very edges of a sleepy mind, and not one that pulled itself from the knowing shadows when consciousness returned and questions demanded answers. No these pink sheets of frozen water, carbon dioxide and other exotic substances tumbled and roared in their cold tundra, oblivious to the myriad of changes wrought overhead, in the darkness and cold of space.

They moved.

Dark, marbled green veins against a smooth, black surface at acute angles and subtle turns. Massive, lumbering creatures that against the star-crossed curtain of inky black behind would do well to be visible slowly but surely conpleted their turn. Now they faced away from the Jovian moon of rock, and ice and towards an altogether different opposition. Indeed their new home would not be a world of tranquility amongst snow, but of rupturous volcano, and white-hot magma. Of twisting canyons and splintered peaks. As the multitude of vessels began to power from orbit, their off-green glows grouping together to show their presence to the surface world, they made all speed, towards a Jovian sister.

The moon of Io.



The lighting was minimal. What little shone did so tightly against the walls, providing only enough ambient day to allow the Kaeneians to work outwith their own stations. Ahead, the gentle, slightly muted purrings of guidance systems and various bustling generators provided a lift against the dead silence of the vacuum sorrounding their starship. Raised on the central dias, Zianna reclined as she felt the subtle accelerations of the chair indicate their departure from Europa. A moment later, it was gone as the internal dampeners compensated.

She stretched her limbs outwards, cocking her head slightly as around her, fellow Kaeneians prepared for what could shortly be a tense, if solvable crisis. Darkened screens, perfectly readable from her standpoint, yet virtually black through the eyes of even a Terran human scrolled important information, and relatively pointless facts to be disgarded. She concentrated ahead momentarily, as the full power of the engines came to bear, and pushed her craft, the Z^Idriyata to full acceleration.

The cool, modulated tones of the starship herself broke through Vox speakers, delivering information held many decks below, amongst quantum computer silos and organic transfer packs..

"Our course has been confirmed, All vessels are accounted for. The First Solarri Fleet is at full combat readiness. Our course to Io is true."

Zianna took the information in, allowing her shoulders to drop slightly as the muscles relaxed their hold on the bones connected so. She was hardly fearing the encounter. Such an emotion would only prevent her from being at optimal efficieny and of service. What she did feel, if anything was the barest annoyance. Again the Jovian system lost a precarious at best grip on peace, and silence. Again the Serene^Union would be forced into action, at least for now non-confrontational, in order to secure what should be already in existance.

The fleet was small by Terran understanding. Only twenty five starships in all. A pitiful number surely that would be smashed aside should they try and top -anyone- from reaching Io, let alone a collection of starships whose identity was not even known? Yet were these not the same vessels that had travelled eighty thousand light years in less than a century? Were these not the last remenants of a technology that had onced controlled the stars themselves?

Of great, universe-bending power there was no more. The barest memory of a power that was as all-controlling as it was benevolent. Sush abilities were now consigned to the distant past. Ignorance had wrought a terrible damage on the intellect, yet even now something endured. It was this inert knowledge that had allowed these Kaeneian vessels construction. Yes, they were limited in number, their construction so long and tedious that their numbers were curtailed before they were even completed. But they could boast, if such a world was applicable, the capabilities of craft many times their number.

It was entirely possible, that they would be forced into showing this.

Zianna brought herself out of her internal monologue as sensor systems registered the movements of other starships outwith the Serene^Union and her influence. Indeed, they were not the only ones who mobilised in the face of this incoming threat. Zianna felt herself steeled by this apparent universal movement. She felt justified further that if they were forced into cleansing fire, they would not suffer idly for it.

"Iniate communique redundencies, and secure a statement to Incoming command vessel, or its lesser compatriots."

A gentle, almost wind-chime like serenade filled the bridge. To those not knowing, it sounded peculiar in the extreme, and frankly absurd. To those understanding, it was the signature of a thought process, of a powerful, if chained intelligence calculating and computing.

"I am Zianna^Imadus, Chosen of the Starship Z^Idriaya, flagship of the First Solarri Fleet. Your course through the Jovian System will take you into restricted space, and is a violation of sovereign territory. Asjust your course to avoid this system, and identify yourself. Failure to comply will result in your transgression being certified as a hostile act against the Serene^Union. Such an act will be treated accordingly."

Zianna closed the link, She had little more to say.

From: General Anton Slavick
To: Warlord Garrand
CC:Warlord Alkanphel
Subject: Metus defense

Greetings, mylord. As you know the Brotherhood does not have any space-based weaponry that can be of any use to Metus in this campaign. However, we can significantly contribute to the defense of Arda and any other Metus territories. As I speak, millions of troops are mobilizing which can be combat-ready in Ardan and Metus territories within two days. Please reply ASAP with more specific instructions regarding troop placement.

General Anton Slavick

Federation Outer System Sensor Platform Ring, Between Solar Orbits 5 and 6, Area Near Jupiter

Jupiter was always busy, always a hive of bustling spacecraft, its many moons, and even the massive gas giant itself housing many colonies and even nations themselves. The sensor arrays always watched, always listened. Who was going where, who was talking to who, that kind of thing.

But now the activity around Io passed a specific limit built into the software of the arrays, and they woke up. Active sensors began to probe lightly, gathering more and more data. The Five Kingdoms appeared to be preparing for war.

The data reached Central Command almost instantly through TacNet. Its import and fate would be decided there.

Central Command, Under Purple Mountain, Commonwealth of Sentient Peoples, FSP

The huge room, full of computers and their displays, full of the sentients, biological and otherwise, who monitored them, was startlingly quiet as the data drifted in from the outer system arrays.

While the war raged with Lost American, the great room was always fully staffed, but certain conditions applied. Like now. Now alarms throughout the facility were bring intelligence analysts awake, naval officers out of bed, and letting the ground force get its much needed rest.

Decisions were made, and Captain Renia Jothosi was pulled out of bed by a bleating communications panel. Her presence was required in the command chamber. Still blinking sleepily, she stripped off her nightgown hurriedly and yanked on her uniform trousers. Boots were next, and she grabbed her shirt from the chair she had left it on as she strode towards the door. It was barely half sealed as she stepped in the corridor and nearly ran over a youngish looking commander, who had the quick reflexes to catch her and prevent her fall.

“Thank you,” she called over her shoulder as she broke into a run down the hallway, still trying to fasten, and then tuck in her uniform shirt.

When she arrived, she quickly began to make the connections, even in her sleep fogged brain. The relocation of the Kajali subspace gate, the earlier bombardment of Arda, and now, the massing of Melkor’s fleets. And as other assets reported in, his allies’ fleets as well. The Imperium of Kajal had apparently well and truly pissed off the Dark Lord of Angband. Time to tell someone, and that someone would be the Fleet Admiral.

Office of Fleet Admiral Anson Farragut, Military Directorate Facility, Griffin, Commonwealth of Sentient Peoples, FSP

Farragut had listened as Captain Jothosi had outlined the facts, and he reached the same conclusion by the time she told him what she thought. “Yes, I agree with you, certainly, but this could be a cover up, a blind thrown up to confuse who the real target is.”

He turned away from Jothosi’s hologram for a moment, at to the system wide display of all Federation assets, examining their positions carefully. “Order the First and Second Patrol Task Groups into support range of Earth, and the Fourth into support range of Venus. Then order the Fourth Task Force out of Earth Orbit and have them move sunward, so they can redeploy to either Venus or Mars more quickly if need be. Have the Fifth Patrol Task Group move to meet them. I’m not particularly worried about Mars, for Melkor has more than enough people willing to blow his ships from the skies there. Also, order the Apache Task Group to this side of the warp point.”

Jothosi’s hologram nodded. “Aye aye, sir. I’ll get to it as soon as we’re done.”

Farragut smiled at her. “We’re done here. Carry out your order, Captain.” He hit the button disconnecting the comm system. Ten minutes from now, all those ships would begin to move.

Kremlin Palace, Rekyavich Andropov Military City

"Well, well, look what we have here," Imperial Marschal Otto von Bismarck, supreme Commmander of the General Staff. He looked over the intelligence report and saw Melkor's order to declare war on them. "Shit."

"What?" GeneralMarchal Frederick von Hindenburg, commander of the Imperial Ground Forces, asked, never hearing Bismarck swear before.

"Kajal is a space empire," Bismarck said calmly.

"So?" GeneralMarschal Ramius Aerostalvich, CinC of the Dersconi Aerospace Forces, asked. "We have space assets."

"Yes, but they are very small," Bismarck stated. "The Dersconi assets in space are well defended by "natural," so to speak, defenses, we never found the need to build them up. It will be no match for any of the nations. I mean, look at these people that are participating! IT would not be al that hard for any of them to destroy Derscon."

"We have all of Metus on our side," Yuri Golovko, the Chairman of the Ministry of State Security, said. "We would be protected."

"Really, now?" Bismarck said, semi-sarcastically. "And what makes you think Melkor will bother to go out of his way to protect a nation he most likely deems insignificant."

"One problem," Franz von Papen, the Foreign Minister, started. "Melkor issued a declaration basically saying that we HAVE to join up, or else."

"I know that," Bismarck retorted. "I honestly do not want to have this nation destroyed because of his little escapade. Our space assets are very miniscule. They are no match for the Superpowers in this conflict. I have no problem with the Metus charter and all, but I will have to petition for a miniscule part -- or face unnessesary risks."

"Well, he is gathering ground forces, too, in case you missed that," Golovko responded. Bismarck raised an eyebrow and reread the breifing.

"Ah, I see, I did miss that," Bismarck said as he took a sip of Mountain Dew: Pitch Black. (OOC: Great soda, IMO) "Well, in that case, we might be able to give a much more help. Hindenburg?"

"Yessir?"

"Mobilize First Corps. Put them on a standby mobilization until I get word of where to move them to."

"Yessir."
================================
---ENCRYPTED UBERLY---
TO: Warlord Alkanphel
FROM: The Dersconi General Staff
SUBJECT: Kajal Situation

As the Dersconi Space Assets are very miniscule, we will be contributing ground and air forces instead. Dersconi First Corps has been mobilized. Where should we move them?

::Imperial Marschal Otto von Bismarck
Supreme Commader of the General Staff
The Protestant Prussian Czardom of Derscon

[OOC woah! that's a lot of replies. *ahem*]

Warlord Althalon paced up and down his office, while Field Marshal Ezr Sergoyan looked on intently. This had been going on for quite some time now, and the man was very tense. Charged with the mustering of Metus assets around and on Io, the Easterling had gotten almost no sleep in the last three days. The good news was fleet mobilizations were going faster than they ever had, even in drills. Three Fleets were now battle ready, over half of the Five Kingdom's aerospace assets.

Apparently, this force was sufficient for their current needs, as they had already begun combat prep maneuvers some hours ago, at the behest of the Fleet Admiral. Fighters sped through the pitch black vacuum, twisting and turning throughout the formations as the pilots re-familiarized themselves with the controls, showing surprising skill in their maneuvering--much moreso than their Air Force counterparts back home. Their movements had apparently fixed Althalon's gaze on the massive holographic display that he so frequently watched.

Sergoyan cleared his throat. "Sir?"

Althalon snapped out of his reverie and straightened up a bit. "Yes of course," he began tentatively, clasping his hands behind his back. "Finalize the mobilization. Get the last of our active forces on those transports, and leave Aurontel to join up with the Second Fleet. Once this is done, we move. I will shortly contact the incoming Metus Fleets and coordinate for their meeting with us in deep space. We will wait in an isolated locale for three days and three nights, whereupon we will endeavor to confuse the Kajali defenses by appearing absent."

Sergoyan lifted a brow. "Is that a good idea, you think? With our fleets gone--"

Althalon cut him off. "Three days is just enough time for word of our departure to spread. If anyone should decide to attack Aurontel during this time, our fleets can easily double back to her defense. I'm not leaving until we have the other two fleets on standby anyway, and we're pulling Horizon back into the area and delaying her maiden jump again so we will have the Sixth."

Slowly, Sergoyan nodded. "Yes my Lord," he said with a slight bow of his head. Quickly, he salutes the Warlord. "I'll get right on it. Expect the transports to reach rally within 12 hours. We'll have roughly 50,000 troops ready to make the jump."

Althalon nodded. "Excellent. Now, I've got some communiques to send, if you'd be so kind."

The Variag nods. "Of course," he answers, and is gone.

***
To: All contributing Metus space forces
From: Warlord Althalon, Io
Re: Our movements

Encryption: Heavy

Due to the growing tensions in the Jovian system as a result of our mounting presence there, we the rally point has now changed. All contributing fleets are to jump to [coordinates] to reorder and coordinate with the Imperial Fleets. The target area is an isolated sector in deep space, highly unlikely to be noticed by anyone. Our fleets will be jumping within the hour, and we'd like to see some more no less than two after that, if possible.

Request that all participating nations continue to muster their space assets, for the battlefield will not be limited to Kajal. Troop Transports are to report to Io, preferably under heavy escort due to the aforementioned tensions. Anyone wishing to FTL to the Jovian system would do well to contact me first, so I may allow for your arrival.

Althalon out

***
Broadband Trnasmission, Jove
From: Warlord Althalon
Re: Growing Tensions

Well, it looks like you've all taken note of the growing Metus presence bound for the Jovian system. Apparently, The Five Kingdoms is not allowed to muster her forces in the area, even given the fact that our target is very distant. It is not my intent to foster anti-Imperial sentiment in the Jovian system, and as such I'm ordering the rally to take place well away from Io or Jupiter to avoid any potential misunderstandings. Due to the volume of comms traffic and the strains they are placing on my continued sanity, I regret that I cannot at this time answer everything individually, but you have my word that no destruction will come to your homes, your colonies, bases, labs, or any such structure or holding in the Jovian system as a result of our movements. All territorial claims will be honored, and afforded the appropriate berth.

***
To: All Contributing Ground and Air Forces, Earth-based
From: High Warlord Alkanphel Ancalagon, Utumno
Re: Rally

Firstly, accolades are due to the Metus member nations who have so selflessly stepped forward to offer their aid in crushing these insolent traitors. Your aid in time of strife will not go unnoticed, and your sacrifices will be properly honored and lamented by the Five Kingdoms as well.

Now, down to business. As some of you may know, Warlord Althalon has redirected the rally point for Fleet assets away from Io, to deflect the mounting pressure on Aurontel. As a result, so too does the rally point for ground forces change. All contributing forces will report to the province of Khand, where you will be directed to your respective mustering points. From there, we will transport your forces either via FTL transport or webway to their destination.

The assault on Kajal will begin soon. We await only Metus' aid, and we can begin. Good luck.

[OOC: I have to help my brother move in to his apartment, which is apprently taking place tomorrow. I wont be around at all today or tomorrow, and probably not Saturday either. I'll return as soon as I can, and when I do we'll begin the attack, and all that good stuff. Sorry, but I didnt know about this until quite recently.]

--Transmission to Lord Althalon--

This is Katarina Herodotus, High Admiral of The Imperial Greifan Star Armada. I, accompanied by the IX Fleet, particulars (Blackstone Fortress: 1, Despoiler Class Battleships: 8, Repulsive Class Grand Cruisers: 10, Styx Class Cruisers: 12, Iconoclast Class Destroyers: 16, Transports: 16, Swiftdeath Fighters: 700, Doomfire Bombers: 525) have made the jump to the coordinates you have specified, and await word from my comrades for regrouping. The Ist and IInd fleets are nearly prepared, and await my orders on Brass Rails. To my understanding, ground forces in Presgreif are being fully mobilized, and the Empress is currently assembling an expeditionary force of 7 million infantry, 50,000 armor, and various other units to be put at your eventual disposal on Terra. We await your input.

Within the colony of the Ashen Empire that stands in Arda, Caractor had found his way back to one of the two ships they had originally come there with. He sat on the throne-like structure they had built there some time ago.

A Censor had come to talk to him. They spoke of some uninteresting things, as well as of this...

"...What? Are you sure, Censor?"

"Yes... Yes, I am. They sent us a transmission. It is apparent that they targetted us with it. As they did a number of other nations."

"Odd. They have not accepted us yet... I must contact the Lich Queen. Now go, and do not disturb me for now."

"Very well, Arch Censor."

The Censor went away, and Caractor began to concentrate. He needed to contact the Lich Queen... And there was only one way to make her notice him... A pain that would have killed a thousand men rushed through Caractor's dead body. But in death, he had forfeit his ability to die, or simply faint from pain.

He had succeeded.

What do you want, Caractor?

...

Speak, or I shall exterminate you with one thought.

... I have news of this place you sent us to... News that should interest you.

I already know what you speak of. Yes... They wish us to accompany them in their war... How... Odd... Convenient. Our fleets have stood for long enough... We shall do as they ask.

The "connection" was severed, and the pain Caractor was experiencing disappeared with it.

The Lich Queen was pleased, even if only for a fleeting moment. She contacted Etimmu, the Wraith Lord leading their spaceborne operations in the Sol System, as the living called it, and places close to it. Technically, Etimmu lead all the operations the Ashen Empire undertook in space, with Tenebrus and Alcastos as his underlings, but in reality, Etimmu did not speak with them much. They did what they did as they saw fit.

Send forth an unarmed fleet, she said, Send it to this location, to the moon "Io" of the planet they call "Jupiter".

What about the armed ships?, he replied.

They are to be sent to this location... Within the depths of space.

Very well, that I shall do.

Again, the connection was severed, causing much... Inconvenience to Etimmu, although his state of existence enabled him to not feel pain. Yes, it was quite apparent that his curse was different from that of Caractor's. After regaining his "senses", he ordered the fleets to mobilize to where the Lich Queen had ordered him to place them. He himself would stay within the confines of the Ermorian stations and oversee the building of new ships, which was a constant event as they built more ships tirelessly. On the other hand, many of his own kind, many Dusk Elders, many unholy priests would go with the mostly Wight-based legions that await within those numerous ships.

Thus was the beginning of the first mobilization of the undead spaceborne fleets in an overt military operation, complete, but it did not mean that all of their ships, nor all of their troops were going anywhere. One might wonder how it was so fast.

The dead do not rest. The dead yearn no recreation. The dead need not eat. That is how they do it. Once the ships are built, they are filled with whatever crew and troops are needed, and until they are sent out to combat, that is how they remain.

(OOC: Yeah, Melkor sent the transmission also to me, even if Ermor isn't a part of (the alliance of) Arda or Metus. Ermor does own a bit of land in the region Arda instead, and is trying to join Arda and/or Metus through this little fact of having a colony in Arda.)

Twenty light minutes from Sol, a white-blue light appeared, about a hundred metres in diameter. It paused for a moment, as if indecisive, and then suddenly swelled to several kilometres in diameter, Sol itself only outshining the object tenfold. Half a second later, and the light was dimmed, as several hundred large objects began coming through it. Another thirty seconds and it was gone, and in it's place was the third Ineffable Starfleet, back from refit in The Seven Systems, geared for a full assault. Accelerating to 60 PSL, it headed towards Earth.
As this happened, flarings of light on the surface of Leda suggested multiple launches of many large ships. This was indeed what had happened, the full dropship carrier and atmospheric attack craft carrier fleets had left the surface depots where they had been stored, awaiting an opportunity such as this. The second Ineffable starfleet had already massed at Leda, awaiting the launches in preparation to escort them to Earth. When they arrived, dropships began flitting up and down like flies, loading for battle. When this was finally completed, they took up their place amongst the Ineffable fleets.
The First Ineffable Spacefleet, too, was being called into action. As one, the hundreds of ships fired their engines and shifted their orbit, assuming their positions in the armada.

Within the next hour, the full might of the First Ineffable Star Armada was fully assembled, arrayed, armed and glittering in the sunlight. After final systems checks, the armada moved in unison, breaking orbit. When they reached the edge of the Sol system, a similar anomaly as the earlier one appeared, as the Star Armada entered slipstream.
Five minutes later, and it was at the rendezvous point, awaiting the arrival of the other Metus fleets.

Transmission from General O'Neill, commanding the First Ineffable Star Armada, to all Metus Forces. Medium encryption. Broadcast from Sol boundry by courier ship.
"Our forces are assembled, we are ready for battle be it upon land, in the sky or between the stars. We shall fall upon the enemies of Metus like a fireball from the sky, burning, killing, destroying. There shall be no survivors, even if we have to destroy the stars themselves.

Transmission from General Whang, commanding the Second, Third And Fourth Ineffable Armies, To Warlords Garrand and Alkphanel, Heavy encryption.
"If it's not too much trouble, we are sending over the second through third Ineffable armies for transport to the combat area. We have a limited number of transport ships and too many soldiers, y'see.

OOC: USN GSEG JLB WGLH RSAE?

These movements of both the Yngir and the Arda forces interest me The message was pulsed across the scattered members of the Council carried through the Eternity Matrix of the Kionash, Iyaana's call.
As they do us, High Farseer, what is your will?
Rai'Star I wish for you to take forces into the Webway and ready for action, if the Five Kingdoms should seek to use them once more as they did on Mars, we shall teach them once more, these Webways ARE ours. It is time we made that clear. The rest of you, too Earth, Galdern is your Palace ready can it sustain a Circle? The request brought smiles to the faces of the Council member's as they understood her plans and nods.
It can High Farseer, all is in readiness.

As Galdern answered Iyaana he turned and issued commands to the staff of his 'Palace' a military station situated on Earth it was the base of Kionash operations on that world, and one of the two centers of Kionash affairs within Sol, however it fulfilled many other functions, not least where magical. At the Top of the highest spire a Room was layed out, and now shapes began to enter the room, Seers and other lesser psyckers of the Kionash as they began the final preparations for the Council, Dreamstones where layed out across the room at precise positions, and final runes where painted out onto the floor, by the time the Council would arrive, the room would be ready for them.

At the same time many craft where launched into the skys above the Isle on patrol routes careful to ensure none would approach the Island now.

Transmission sent out to all ships that come closer to the Island than Fifteen Miles.

To unknown ship you are ordered to turn around and seek a different route. If you continue on your present course we are authorised to use Deadly force. We apologise for the inconvience.

End Transmission

(OOC: I will not be here over the weekend, so it'd be nice if the thread DOESN'T EXPLODE into five or six pages on Saturday, kay? I'll be down in Seattle with sporadic net access at best, so I'll kindly ask all involved to have a nice weekend, and not post in the thread in great amounts. Thanks in advance. ^_^)

The further fortification of defenses had been going well. The system nets, surrounding each of the four Kajali worlds, had been bolstered by the addition of the new platforms the combined shipyards of Kajal had been able to produce, which varied in model between lance, missile, and fusillade. Just as the system nets had been bolstered, so had the individual planetary nets, forming tiers of defenses.

Fleet actions were going well. With the exception of the battlegroup Loki, the entirety of Kajal's navy had been amassed, while soldiers drilled on the grounds of their respective planets. Ground based turrets, each easily the size of a frigate, were fed instructions with which they adjusted so that their deadly discharges would intersect the course of a drone moving with moderate speed in planetary orbit. At the same time, further shipments of fighters and pilots arrived aboard each carrier, filling them to maximum capacity, as specified by the "wartime overload" instructions.

Every six and a half standard hours, a ship would arrive from Sol, bringing news of further developments, before darting through the Ljusalf subspace array to boost it's velocity to return to Mars. Small Zeal frigates, ships of a design several hundred years old, and decidedly lacking in combat capability, zipped out across subspace corridors, searching for any indication that _anything_ was amiss in the charted territories.

Meanwhile, the combined Kajali shipyards continued to churn out defensive platforms, fighter craft, as larger vessels underwent construction sped by the knowledge of the inevitable conflict. For many of the vessels under construction, it was very likely they would not be completed until the end of the conflict had drawn near, however, few had been large enough that simply cancelling the construction would be a massive waste of resources, nor had they been remnants of a prior regime.

In the massive Ljusalf shipyards, the form of a second Imperial Glory carrier was present, as construction crews continued to attach armor plating, even while the ship was undergoing basic shakedowns. In the bays alongside the carrier's temporary home, destroyers, battleships, and smaller carriers too were under construction, in varying degrees of completion. Many would be in service when the attack came, but many more would not.

IX-03 became an official registry number as soon as the last plate was attached to the hull, and the registry painted on the ship's hull.

IX-03, Kani-sa Myrka, or Glorious Wrath was christened two hours afterwards, and loaded to capacity with fighters and crew, and assigned to the growing 15th fleet, designated 3rd Imperial.

Were it possible to complete all other vessels under construction at the Ljusalf yards within three hours, the 15th fleet would number nearly as many vessels as a standard battlegroup, however, as it did not, it was relegated Task Force status.

The shipyards remained a blur of activity, as the crews used every available second to attempt to complete the next ship that would act in defense of the Four Worlds.

"Analyis?"

"CIC and FleetIntel judges it as preparations for a strike outsystem. While it is possible this is all a feint and really an attack around Jupiter, its very doubtful. They have, in fact, seemed to be unusally careful about not being too threatening - well, no more threatening than usual, and then even sent a nice message. The most likely target would be Kajali core worlds, given the recent break and relations. The Third Fleet reports that there's been some shots fire by Kajali warships at Terra, trying to break up gravship formations."

"Hmmm." Admiral Fuyutski leans forward, indicating several points on a map of known space. "Is there any possibility that this is some kind of diversion and its really strike on a colony?"

"Unlikely in the extreme. Even if they had located a Triumvirate world, there would be no real reason to attack. Most ToY colonies have an O'Neill on station, something no one would attack just for fun, and the rest of the GEC systems are just robot mining operations. National colonies are as well off - Ares and Sslaa have large garrisons. On our part, Shiuan has substantial system fortifications, Pell has no real military targets, and one of the two battle groups of the Fourth Fleet is at each. Our GSVs are the weakest points - a small escort squad and their own admittedly large defensive batteries. Still, all three have random-jumped to deep space for the next few days."

"I see. Well, if Kajal has done something to anger the Five Kingdoms this much, I don't see how its any of our concern. Send a reply to Althalon - inform him that, while we personally aren't the least concerned, we thank his effort to keep less cool heads from doing something stupid - use that wording."

Admiral Maria Sanchez nervously adjusts the trim of her uniform as she waits for the teleconference video meeting to begin. Then a chime sounds, and she sits up straight. The screen in front of her comes to life, revealing the stern features of the Emperor of Treznor.

"Admiral," he says by way of greeting. "What the hell?"

Apparently, this would be a good time to skip the preliminary etiquette. "Lord Althalon apparently forgot that his presence around Jupiter is only grudgingly accepted, Your Majesty," Sanchez replies. "He thought to use Io as a rally point for Metus space elements. He claims to be mustering for an attack somewhere else."

"I heard his broadcast. I'm guessing he's after the Kajali homeworld, although nobody knew he could find it. I certainly don't know where it is, or I might be tempted to help them out."

"The enemy of my enemy, Sir?"

"Precisely. Anyway, what's your status now?"

"The fleets are being moved away, and most of the incoming military traffic has been diverted. What is still coming in appears to be transports, although heavily guarded. I've lowered our alert level and passed the word on."

"Still pushing his point, as always. All right, Admiral. Well done. I'm glad you kept on top of this. But don't modify your alert level again until I say so. Melkor probably is just trying to punish yet another nation that left his tender embrace, but he could still use it as a diversion to attack someone else. We'll keep an eye on him until he stands down."

"Yes, Sir."

Treznor pushes a button on his desk, and the screen goes dark. Only then does Sanchez allow herself to relax and take a deep breath. I avoided another bullet. How long until I fail?

--Transmission to Stellar Forces of The Silver Turtle--
--From High Admiral Herodotus--

Greetings and salutations from the IXth Greifan Fleet! We have detected your ships within our immediate vicinity, and would like to ask if you would consider it prudent for us to form up along side you. Our own Ist Fleet should be joining us shortly, and in due time it should be followed by the IIIrd. Perhaps we should wait for regrouping until all forces have arrived? Please advise.

(OOC: Let me make this perfectly clear. Technically, Neither Melkor, NOR anyone else should actually know where the Four Worlds are. All outside traffic to them is via subspace waygates - You don't do _any_ navigation at all, and unless you send a dedicated cartographic ship through, and spend the required time _scanning_ the entire area to a distance of ten to 15 light years out, and then determining _where_ in the cluster you are, you're not going to be able to find it. Never mind that cartographic vessels are strictly barred from entering Imperial space at all.

Also note that if you did get a ship through the waygate to Kajal, it would likely _need_ to take the gate to get back to Earth, as it wouldn't be able to navigate it's way back. It is a _completely_ unfamiliar sky for anyone not from the region.

If anyone would like to claim knowledge of how to get there because they sent delegates to the party ages ago, sorry. A waygate was expressly constructed for transit to that, which conveniently turns all you see out the windows while in transit into a swirling blue mess. You'd literally be stranded in Kajal were the waygates there destroyed, and the only hope of returning to Earth would to be obtaining Kajali starmaps.

These maps were not shared with Metus or Arda during Kajal's membership. They are highly classified materials, which the government does not provide even to allies.

Pretty much, unless you have been _extremely_ lucky, you _don't_ know where Kajal is. You know that it resides within Pleiades, a cluster containing _hundreds_ of stars, of which only a handful are visible from Earth. You would literally never see the star Kajal, or any of those the four worlds orbit, from Earth. The stars that are visible are far too hot for life to develop on any orbiting bodies.

Also note that the visible stars comprise an area of space approximately 11 light years across, while the actual cluster itself is likely 110 light years in width. (According to http://www.ras.ucalgary.ca/~gibson/pleiades/. Your milage may vary.).

Thusly, you may now understand why I haven't been particularly worried about the fleets of Metus. Barring the actual _capture_ of a Kajali vessel/station/etc, and managing to take over before the crew wipes the astronomical database, as is standard procedure in situations where it is clear that the ship is going to be lost, you'd also have to firstly be able to read the Kajali language, as well as determine where you were in the starmap.

So basically, it comes down to this. Even with instant FTL, you've got a sphere that's 110 light years in width to search through, comprising hundreds of stars.

And you're trying to find four individual planets, comprising a nation that makes full use of it's technology to prevent people from actually _finding_ it, while having the resources the cluster provides at it's disposal.

Hopefully this has made the impossibility of a direct assault on Kajal Prime somewhat clearer.

On the other hand, the Ashen Empire has partial Kajali starmaps from when they took over a Kajali cruiser and a small outpost, etc.

The idea is it's going to be difficult to find the planet, not impossible, and not absurdly easy.

On a side note, the actions mentioned below, when undertaken, can best be described as lightning strikes. In and out as quickly as possible.)

---

For the standard Kajali warship, it was six and a half hours to Sol, and six and a half back.

Two battlegroups of such warships had been deployed, charged with carrying out specific tasks. Their departure had come moments after one of the newships had arrived, carrying news that, by the time the battlegroup arrived, would be twelve hours old.

What was most interesting to the Kajali military command, of course, was the reported movement of enemy vessels in Sol, and thusly, one battlegroup had been deployed to confirm the reports through the use of long range kinetics. Such was the plan of attack that a single ship would deliver it's payload from the longest range possible, and return to the group to reload, while another took it's place. Were they to be followed, the battlegroup would utilize it's mobility to confuse the enemy, while lining up for another kinetic strike.

The second battlegroup had been divided into five small task forces, simply designated One through Five. Groups One and Two would strike at shipyards, utilizing similar kinetic strikes at range. Group Three would launch another orbital assault against the Ardan assets on Earth, spraying them with further kinetic strikes not unlike those sustained earlier.

Meanwhile, there had been no mention of the activities of groups Four and Five, for fear of possible interception of communications between Mars based assets and the courier ships. Command had ordered them into comms blackout - they would effectively only recieve and send communications via the courier ships for the duration of their actions.

The two battlegroups arrived in Sol exactly 6.5 hours after the last courier ship had arrived at Kajal, coinciding with the departure of the next one from Mars.

They moved to achieve their designated objectives.

Within three hours, the dead had been collected on a large tarp, dragged by 30 Dorns with straps on their muzzles. The Dorns were very loyal animals, but only to the Orcs whom tamed them it seems. Dorns were known to attack and maul humans, elves, and dorns with vicious malice. They had been a farmer's worst nightmare, as packs were known to attack livestock, as the Dorn was a carnivourous animal. Yet, the Dorn Domestication was a complete success, and lead to the construction of an entire clan devoted to their mastership. The Clan of Dorn Riders were a very natural people. They all lived in the forest, named the Dorn Forest, where the animals were bred both in the wild and tamed.

Velin was a proud member of the Clan, and had enlisted in the Dorn Calvalry, one of the heaviest assault units in the High Orcs aresenal. He was a skilled lanceman and archer, as well as a talented skell-artist. Yet even He, a hardened warrior, felt sorrow as he carried the body of Paelian in his arms, cradled lifelessly in his grasp. His chain boots rattled as they stepped through the brown dirt. A team of Dorn Handlers pulled the reigns on the Dorns, carrying the dead. There were four more teams hauling the Orcish bodies into tarps. The Dorn bodies would need to be recovered as soon as possible before they became rotten. Their bones and meat could still be used for tools and food, and their skins as clothing.

Velin walked into the Tree Village of Naldaniss, which rose high into the Redwoods and built much like a Wood Elf city, only with obvious changes in accordance to Orcish philosphy. Houses were small and efficient. Multiple Floors were used, and there were ropes and ladders in accordance to stairs. The limbs were such that they could be used to navigate downwards safely, and the ground was littered in animal pens. Several of the other Survivors were with him, and they all looked dirt covered, bruised, tired. Some carried other survivors that weren't as fortunate and were dealt broken limbs. A precious few had died on the way back due to internal bleeding. Their brothers never let them out of their arms however, and like Velin, they carried corpses home.

Two dozen Barbers rushed down the trees ('Barber' is what doctors were called) to the crowd. They passed Velin and went to those in worse state. Bones would have to be set, and shrapnel removed. Cuts would have to be sewn up, and ganrenous limbs removed. Velin overlooked the crowd, and saw the very person he dreaded so much to see: Paelian's mother. With wrathful courage, Velin stepped forward, and approached his friend's mother with Honor. He kneeled before her, and sat Paelian's body on the ground to her feet. Paelian still clutched his Skell and held it to his chest tightly in rigor-mortis. Paelian's mother fell to her knees, her hands on her son's chest. His father placed his hand on Velin's shoulder as they both watched her mourn.

"He died in battle. He died with honor. I am proud of my son's life," Paelian's father remarked, but his words were so hallow to Velin. They were meaningless. They were untruths to help his father cope. Velin was there. There was no battle. There was no honor. There was death. Unannounced and undeserved death. Velin would trek to Orka...he would tell the EnheilRas...he would avenge...

The boost in the usual activity around Io had not gone unnoticed. Nor had subsequent transmissions between allies and intel been ignored. Perhaps it was the timing. Perhaps it was the disregard shown after so many talks and quiet urgings to keep communication lines open to avoid any misunderstandings. Whatever the case, the Dread Lady had made a decision – and now, her ministers and military leaders hastened to carry out her wishes.

Over the Dominion, near the WorldDisc, and at the undisclosed location of the jointly owned shipyards where for months plans had been quietly brought to fruition, crews were readied and ships deployed. Squadrons were chosen from the fleets, and each made the jump to a different coordinate outside the inhibitor zone in the Jovian system.

Casually, yet with purposeful speed, they made their way towards Io: Squadrone Alpha of the Caelestis Caduscum Fleet, the Angelan ships accompanied by the more recently acquired Excelsior class battleship. Squadrone Novaculae of the Cruentus Machaerae Fleet, the familiar forms of the TYCS ships painted in black so deep it seemed to suck what light there was into its depths, and red the color of blood, each bearing the unmistakable falcon insignia of the Dominion. Squadrone Sanguinaria of the Nex Necis Fleet – ships that until now had never been seen outside of planning rooms and the secure space docks where they were built. Their smooth forms cut gracefully through the darkness of space, red and black as were their sister ships, proudly displaying the Dominion Falcon.

To the fleets and forces of the Five Kingdoms, no word or acknowledgement was given by the Dominion ships. They quietly formed up and spread out far above the NDA protectorate of what once was Burninatonia, floating serenely in space and for now, doing no more than that.

After a considerable amount of time had passed, a message was sent to Konrad, directly from the Dread Lady.

My dear Konrad,

It would seem time dulls the memory, unless perhaps it is the pressure of your current assignment weighing too heavily on your mind. I was of the impression that we were going to make efforts at giving one another a tiny nod concerning any movements that might make us ‘nervous’ up there. I am glad at least that in retrospect you’ve deigned to let us know your intentions do not concern us. I would imagine it has allayed the fears of some to a small extent, which I suppose is something after all.

I’m not sure I appreciated some of the tone of your missive, however. Of course you are ‘allowed’ to muster forces, as are we all. However, as we mentioned, the Imperium does have a rather tainted reputation when it comes to such things, through no fault of your own. If you choose not to communicate until later your peaceable intentions with your neighbors, I imagine you will see such reactions to your maneuvers frequently. It is, of course, your choice. I merely suggest that perhaps your perceived ‘discrimination’ is not quite for the reasons you imagine.

Oh yes, that reminds me. You may have noticed some forces of my own in the immediate area. As is my right, I am looking after my interests there on Io, and as you, have no aggressive intentions towards yourselves, your allies, or any other Jovian holdings. I do hope this isn’t too much of an inconvenience, but I felt it best to have a presence there. Should you need to contact my forces, you would be best served in relaying your messages to Maresciallo Serafina Alighieri, captain of the Angelan Revenant ship out there – the Michaelangelo.

Do keep in touch, my dear. And until then, happy hunting.

--Nathicana D’Aquisto, Dread Lady of the Dominion

ooc: Just had to catch up. And make mention of our own inhibitor fields so Melkor, sorry, but no popping in folks as you like willy nilly. That's the reason we put it up to begin with - to level the playing field. No letting your folks in while denying us, and vise versa. And now that we have that cleared up ... Ah, numberwank. You knew it was inevitable. Well, here you go:

Squadrone Alpha - Caelestis Caduscum Fleet
3 Raptors - Gunship
2 Falchions – Heavy Cruiser
2 Alliances - Battlecruiser
1 Revenant - Cruiser
42 Mirrors – aerospace fighter
42 Interceptors – aerospace fighter
1 Excelsior - Battleship
And ... rather a lot of drones

Squadrone Novaculae - Cruentus Machaerae Fleet
1 Longship – Escort Carrier
2 Tigers – Medium Cruiser
2 Scorpions – Frigate
4 Pumas – Destroyer
4 Battle of Shilohs – Corvette
13 Lokis – Dropships
68 Peregrine aerospace fighters
136 Viper aerospace fighters

Squadrone Sanguinaria – Nex Necis Fleet
1 Aquila (http://home.mchsi.com/~ketri/wsb/links/Ships/Aquila.jpg) – Carrier
2 Osprey (http://home.mchsi.com/~ketri/wsb/links/Ships/Osprey.jpg) – Heavy Cruiser
2 Harrier (http://home.mchsi.com/~ketri/wsb/links/Ships/Harrier.jpg) – Destroyer
8 Kestrel (http://home.mchsi.com/~ketri/wsb/links/Ships/Kestrel.jpg) – Corvette
20 Falcon (http://home.mchsi.com/~ketri/wsb/links/Ships/Falcon.jpg ) – Dropships
132 Shrike (http://home.mchsi.com/~ketri/wsb/links/Ships/Shrike.jpg) aerospace fighters

ooc: Oh look everyone, Kajal is untouchable. Please :rolleyes:

(OOC: difficult to locate, more like. I'm pretty sure anyone with decent FTL knows where Pleiades is.)

OOC Much like Myself, Kajal has gone to great pains to keep his location a secret, what he wants therefore and fairly in my opinion is people to roleplay getting the location. Rather than moan about it, why not do the roleplay? Is that so hard to do. For Example Ambush one of his Ships and attempt to retrive the data from it...

Or speak to say his people on Mars, after all they are two seperate nations these days so make an offer to the government for access to their historical records, a description of their original home system might give you clues as to where to look.

Construct drones to scour the cluster for you, there is a way to find his location but just don't assume you know it.

Or send a ship through the Waygate, and wait for the transmission it send to give you the location etc.

Thusly, you may now understand why I haven't been particularly worried about the fleets of Metus. Barring the actual _capture_ of a Kajali vessel/station/etc, and managing to take over before the crew wipes the astronomical database, as is standard procedure in situations where it is clear that the ship is going to be lost, you'd also have to firstly be able to read the Kajali language, as well as determine where you were in the starmap.

So basically, it comes down to this. Even with instant FTL, you've got a sphere that's 110 light years in width to search through, comprising hundreds of stars.

And you're trying to find four individual planets, comprising a nation that makes full use of it's technology to prevent people from actually _finding_ it, while having the resources the cluster provides at it's disposal.

Hopefully this has made the impossibility of a direct assault on Kajal Prime somewhat clearer.

Really? Looks like he's saying he's untouchable to me...

(OOC: Argh. What I'm saying is Metus needs to do a little work before it'll be possible to just FTL to the core worlds. Argh.)

Jupiter

It had been a short while since the cataclysm had hit and killed billions.

Yet, in the relatively small and dense colonies in the jovian system, order was already... Resurfacing.

No, it wasn't like everything was perfect. The corpses in the tunnels, the domes, the stations, they were a nuisance... And smelly. And the colonies didn't exactly cooperate with each other, either. Ganymede, Callisto, Europa... Once, each of them housed a million colonists.

Now, just about a hundred thousand remained. And for them, a new future had begun. A future of independence and maturity.

And death.

Themisto, even smaller... Here, at a place that was, by all means, unable to be self sufficient, the 'new' order did indeed intend to act in the interests of the homeland, the last remaining piece of the past.

And then there was Io, where those who hadn't been sacrificed the the Burning Mountain folks had been absorbed into it, joining the feast, the sacrifices, the joy or terror and violence.

However, all of them, except Themisto, were kinda incapable of acting, being busy with... Well, themselves. And Themisto, though equipped with a thing one could only describe as phallic, was somewhat ill equipped to act against fleets.

Yet, there was something else. Only three fourth of the original jovian fleets remained, sixty vessels of varying size... The conflict within them had ended when the last (excessively) insane ones, shooting at everything in sight, had been destroyed by those who didn't think about this as being the right time to take out those pesky normals.

They were still consuming debris, wherever they could find it, when they noticed the growing fleet concentrations. And a few transmissions by nations they had had rather good contacts with... In the past, that is.

And they watched, always engaging in a little bit of small talk and flirting, somewhat amused, despite the death and pain they had suffered not so long ago.

You know... Annoying, we don't have those codes for our inhibitors, do we?

The ones in the rings? Nah. Themisto might have 'em, though.

Mhm, gotta ask... She's pregnant, though.

WHAT? Dear g... Oh, whatever. We have our own, though.

As IF we would move, here. Why risking our lives? Our home has been destroyed, remember?

Yes, Yes, I know... Though those guys who send the message might be able to take over our maintenance. Should ask about it, perhaps.

Hey... I like the idea.

And so they watched... Enjoying the relatively high escape velocity of Jupiter, accelerating a bit more than usual, being somewhat impressed by the fleets massing in the system.

To: All Metus nations
From: Brotherhood Minister of Information Ivan Vlostojivic
Subject: The Four Worlds
Encryption: BSL-3 2048 bits

Gentlemen,

as you know, Metus is currently experiencing problems concerning the location of the Kajali Four Worlds. As it may prove slightly problematic to strike an enemy cowering in unknown deep space, and simply blowing up random starsystems is not an option, we need to determine the location of said worlds. While the Brotherhood does not have the capacity to send out space exploration parties due to a restrictive policy concerning space programs, our artificial intelligence programs are highly advanced compared even to nations with a much more advanced space exploration system. Since it is impossible for any Kajali warships not to have the coordinates of the Four Worlds on board of it's ships, it is the Brotherhood's belief that our best option lies there.

However, it is almost certain that any information concerning the Four Worlds' location on board of those ships will be wiped before it can be accessed, if this is tried simply by force. This means we need to use a different approach. Using a spacecraft from one of you, the Brotherhood's most trusted allies, and with the help of your knowledge of constructing and operating said spacecraft, it is our belief that our engineers can together fit a limited copy of our AI CABAL on said spacecraft. He can then silently try to obtain information concerning the location of the Four Worlds, as soon as the craft is close enough to make near-instantaneous communication with a Kajali warship possible. Ideally such an intrusion into their ship's databanks should go unnoticed. Needless to say the used Kajali warship must be destroyed after the intrusion to prevent them sending a warning to their homeworlds concerning the oncoming onslaught that will inevitably follow.

Respectfully,
Ivan Vlostojivic, Minister of Information to the Brotherhood of Nod

Recent movements on Europa by a close.....associate, Kaenei, have prompted the Holy Order to take a more proactive interest in the matters at hand. While by no means allies, or even friends really, the fates of Sketch and the Serene^Union were inexplicable intertwined, a hopelessly tangled knot centered on the delicate Jovian pearl - Europa. No longer could Sketch maintain a blind eye towards the recent events. Even though they had no real bearing towards the Holy Order, Europa, or even anything else concerning Sketch, it remained a disturbing fact that the great powers were once again mobilising without clear cause. As with all matters concerning METUS, Melkor and the powers of Sol in general, small, minor happenings always brought with them a great disturbance in the peace. It was rather annoying, not a moment of serenity can be attained without someone's ill-deployed vessels of war flying through and disrupting a carefully choreographed peace. But no matter, none of this concerned the Holy Order, nor would the movements of the powers, save for the few in close proximity. It was with that in mind that several discrete essages were sent out - subtly stating in a friendly manner, as friendly as such messages go, that Sketch would tolerate no disturbances in the carefully maintained peace and civil order of its holdings.

Daily life within the Holy Order continued on as always, blissfully unaware of the occurances outside.

ooc: I'll just look on hopelessly as classes continue to kick me in the teeth, limiting my ability to do much more than moan in pain and say "thank you, may I have another".....

More ships came day-by-day, fifteen on average per day. In all, ninety would come, and then they would be ready. Already, the second day had come, and well nigh thirty of the great ships had assembled at their rendezvous point. They drew up their plans, scanning ahead and watching directly when appropriate, though all with passive sensors. They plotted and planned, and aboard the flagship of the Emperor, recently arrived, though he was not yet aboard, endless checks were being made of truly ancient equipment, that had not been used for an age…

But soon, they would see just how resilient Orm Embar truly was. And if that failed… Well, the Emperor had other plans for it…

Velin spent the rest of the day digging holes in a plot reserved for a mass grave. It was host in a small clearing surrounded by trees less than a mile west of Naldaniss, so beams of like steaked through the air as they cut through the deciduous canope, igniting every particle of pollen, dust, and dew that came across them. Belin dug twenty plots before the sun turned red. When it set, the Zealots far to the Northeast on the other side of the mountains called it Lopnel's Star. Every Evening the sky turned red in the west, and the Red Blade held their nightly feast as a Blessing from their Red God.

Velin pound the shovel into the ground, and slid his hand across his forehead. He then used the collected perspiration to slick his hair back. He bent down to collect a strong stick and slid it into his hair and twisted it into a ball. He then inserted another twig to lock it in place. He retrieved a canteen of water from the nearby wagon, where Velin had filled with a pile of soil from his digging. Each time a plot was completed, he would drive the wagon to the designated area to dispose of the soil (most of which was transplanted to the mountains for the High Step Clan). Velin screwed open the canteen, and lifted it to his jowls. It felt cold going down, but it was refreshing that he could feel it washing down his throat to his stomach. It was a panacea to his fatigue, dehydration, and depression. It was the only thing to actually feel good since the early afternoon.

Velin sighed, and leaned against the Dorn, taking a breather from his non-stop work. It would be dinner soon, and most of the dead dorns had been collected in the hours of the grave digging. They would be skinned first, and then cleaned of their entrails, with limbs cut off (with the head and paws removed), and the smoked clean before being boiled in separate vats to insure they were proper to eat. Most of these precautions were unnecessary, due to the digestive system of the Orc having an extremely high tolerance to poisons, especially bacteria that comes from meat. Velin tugged on the Dorn, leading it to the soil depository, before detaching it from the wagon, and pulling the creature to its stable, taking great pains to fill its water bowl and toss it a dead raccoon from the carrion bag.

The High Orc Lancer walked out of the stables, and headed home. He noticed that the weapons and armor collected from the field were being stock piled and marked by several of his clan members. When questioned why, he was informed that due maintenance reasons, all the discarded, broken, or irrepairable items found would be shipped East into the mountains and be given to the Blazing Hammer Clan within the Hallowed Halls. There, the master smiths would be able to fix, remold, and improve the weapons to be shipped back. This way, nothing was wasted, though it'd probably take a week, including travel time. Velin nodded, understanding, and then asked if he could become a courier for the items. The Clan of Dorn Riders were excellant couriers. If a message had to be delivered, there was no better way to do it besides Air Elementals or Magical Telepathy. Dorn Couriers rode hard and fast, and were physically and mentally conditioned to work in 16 hour shifts on pure riding. Though not as fast as modern transportation, they always got what they needed.

This would work out well for Velin, for after he aided the transport to the Hall of Blazing Hammers, it was only that much closer through the Twin Hills to Orka. He was sure that they knew of the explosions from the Golden Sky, but he doubted that they knew it was an attack on the Clans. This was working for Velin's benefit. Once his story hit Orka, it would enrage the region, and then action could be taken. For now, Velin felt he deserved a good meal, and some drink to calm him. He needed a long rest, for the shipment would undoubtedly begin early. The Blazing Hammer Foremen weren't the most patient of Orcs to deal with, and they lobbed over punctuality and perfection. It was this keen sense that made the High Orcish weapons equal, if not surpassing, to anything of Dwarven or Kobold design.

The Ashen Empire found ot that one of the nations planning to invade Kajal were asking for a ship, through its colony in Arda. And what luck - they had the perfect one for the task. Yes, the most perfect ship... What else could work better than one of the enemy?

A message was sent through the dark paths of the Underworld, just so that it would avoid detection. Not to mention that their ability to encrypt their messages was much more limited than that of the Brotherhood.

Target: The Brotherhood of NOD
Sender: The Ashen Empire of Ermor

It has come to our attention that you have asked for a ship to find out the
secret location of their homeworlds. We have one that might interest you.
While it is quite likely that our ability to help you place this AI CABAL you
spoke of into the ship is limited, it should prove useful.

Why, you might ask. And the answer is here: Because it is a warship of Kajal,
one they should identify as their own. A cruiser, to be more precise.
Unfortunately, its AI had been able to delete the starmap it had almost
completely before we could stop it, and it would require some repairs to its
hull. We do not care of such trivialities, but the people of Kajal might.

We will await your answer.

OOC: Actually, it wouldn't be too much trouble for me to blow up every single star in the Pleaides cluster in a very short space of time... But that wouldn't be very fun (well, actually it might be...), or make for a very long or interesting (well, maybe interesting...) RP, so I won't (erm, well I might...but I'll try not to...)
IC:
Even as the First Star Armada left the Sol system, at the other side of the system another sliportal had opened. The Ledan government had kindly donated (i.e. forced to give) the fourth and fifth Ineffable starfleets for operations in the Sol System, mainly defence of The Silver Turtle and other Ineffable assets in the system. That left the Seven Systems with nothing other than the sixth and seventh fleets for defence, but like the Kajali worlds causing the whole problem, their precise location was known to but a few.

Transmission fro General O'Neill to High Admiral Herodotus
"Greetings. I believe it would be a good idea for you to draw up alongside us. Makes us look more like a multinational joint fleet.

OOC: Actually, it wouldn't be too much trouble for me to blow up every single star in the Pleaides cluster in a very short space of time... But that wouldn't be very fun (well, actually it might be...), or make for a very long or interesting (well, maybe interesting...) RP, so I won't (erm, well I might...but I'll try not to...)

OOC: I hope you cleaned your keyboard after that.

OOC: I hope you cleaned your keyboard after that.
OOC: With an elephant-hair brush.

(OOC: But now your brush is all sticky...)

Sky Marshal M'sha sighs and just keeps the Jovian Task Force on what is quickly becoming a constant state of alert. At least the current situation has nothing to do with the Triumvirate, and M'sha has absolutely no problem with that and would like to see that state continue into the future.

[OOC: just lost an enormous post. I am not rewriting it [save for my response to Nathi], but the gist of it is Konrad and Ezr are leaving for battle and leaving Aurontel in the capable hands of Marshal Captain Narotama Suharto. Marshals Rabani and Hattori are on hand as well.]


Lady Nathicana,

I apologize for my short-sightedness: perhaps you were correct in your surmisal that the assignment is weighing rather heavily on my already wearied psyche. Most of my thought of late has been devoted to the general ordering and preparation of my military forces, with embarassingly little thought devoted to the reactions of my neighbors. Perhaps there is no excuse for this, but nobody's perfect, try as we might.

I'm going into battle, Nathi, and indeed I intend to fight--and possibly die--with my men. I'll be one of the first on the ground once we reach Kajal, and I fear we may have met face to face for the last time. I am confident in our chances for victory, yet at the same time wary of the wit and ingenuityof my enemy; for only the foolish discount the merits of their foes. This fact has laid upon my mind no small amount of apprehension, and if this has caused any misunderstandings, I am deeply sorry.

But alas, I digress. Your fleet presence does not bother me, because as you said you have a right to protect your holdings on Io as do I. I will be leaving Aurontel under the command of High Captain Narotama Suharto, so your forces would do well to contact him as any communications to me are likely to be forwarded to the Ali'Staan and responses will be long in coming.

Farewell, Lady Nathicana; I hope that I should be so fortunate as to enjoy your company once again.

--Warlord Konrad Althalon

[more OOC: I'm holding off at the moment from ordering the Metus fleets around, on account of the fact that I want to talk with Kajal about this "you can't find me" claim. I generally assume, unless stated otherwise, that extra-solar homeworlds/colonies etc are public knowledge. Given that Kajal has never mentioned to me before that attempts were being made to conceal his location, I'm a bit peeved that he's going back this late in the game and saying "Hey wait..."

It's a bit frustrating to say the least. Had this been mentioned to me [or at the very least, to someone else in my presence] before, I'd have definately done something about it, since the Five Kingdoms is not in the habit of accepting people into its alliance without knowing where they live. Perhaps my assumption of it being public knowledge is a bit presumtuous, but it's my policy and any attempts to keep such locales secret should be made clear to me at the beginning of any such story arc.]

Squire Gunboat Julianne, Corsica Station, Jupiter

West looked with some relief and trepitation at reports comming from elsewhere in orbit. The METUS assets were seemingly uninvolved with her own conflict (with Lord Adonis), and (thankfully) seemed to be moving elsewhere...but a gathering of Melkor's Minions was never a good thing.

Admiral West hadn't been seperated from the Dominion of Wazzu command structure for long, but this wasn't the first time she wished she still had current intelligence.

[[OOC: In otherwords, TAG]]

Operations Core, Base Alpha, Io/Jupiter Lagrange Point One, Kel Meralkharant, Jovian System

Back in the Thelasi Crisis, Radukh tsaRega had wished that the Imperium would get it's act together and cleanse the avokh elves from the universe. Now, he wished that the avokh elves would get their act together and cleanse the avokh Imperium from the universe.

Her Pretentiousness the Head Pointy-Ear, for all that the Iraqstanikh worshipped her as a god, had so far declined to act upon his wishes. Well, y Khora Eldiko karkaradtu vokh; Radukh didn't have gravships at his disposal, and the twelve (fourteen, when one counted the two technically assigned to Io) Oberth/Sekhmet-class destroyers of the Outer System Fleet couldn't do much at all against the massive fleets of Metus.

So (although he'd raised the alert, should the Imperium prove more devious than the analysts believed), Radukh had kept the fleet home, doing nothing much, and eventually the avokh Metusikh had gone away, ainra eka Ruki.

The Jovian Surveillance Corps had managed to get some nice pictures of the Dominion's spacefleets, though, including some ships he'd never heard rumor or truth about, so maybe it wasn't all bad. But as far as he was concerned, the sooner the Ixhwa/Hades-class cruisers came off the slips in Saturnspace and into the Fleets, the better. When one plays with the big boys one needs big toys, after all.

To: The Ashen Empire of Ermor
From: The Brotherhood Minister of Information Ivan Vlostojivic
Subject: Kajali spacecraft
Encryption: BSL-3 2048 bits

Greetings

A Kajali spacecraft would be the very best option for this mission. Can I be so bold as to inform how you obtained such a craft? Our engineers can no doubt build CABAL into this craft, but we do not possess the knowledge or the means to repair the hull of the craft, nor can we operate such crafts. Any help with said operations would be greatly appreciated.

Respectfully,
Ivan Vlostojivic, Minister of Information to the Brotherhood of Nod

Target: The Brotherhood of NOD
Sender: The Ashen Empire of Ermor

The fact that the ship exists and is in our possession is all that matters, is it
not? How we acquired it is irrelevant.

But us helping further with the ship might prove harder than one could hope.
while some of our newer members were able to reverse engineer the ship and
even reassemble it, there are so few of them... Too few to reassign them with
such a short notice without causing great setbacks to us. We think a third
party is required for the reparations of the ship, if they are, indeed, deemed
necessary, as we think. But maybe its current damaged outlook could serve a
purpose - draw in the prey close enough to be leeched of whatever data we
might need.

We can, however, provide you with detailed instructions on how to replace
the ship's AI, if that is required. It appears that what idle work some of us do
for no other reason but to fight the dulling of the mind might be of some use,
after all.

They had arrived the Darvins with his Staff, the lone staff wielder amongest the council he stood apart. Galdern, from whose researches much of what they planned had came, Iyaana who would act as the center and last Kal-Istau-Dris, she of Silent Shadows, one of the odlest of the Farseers she had served in many roles in her time, but never as a part of the greator council. For what they planned however all the Council would be needed.

The preparations where began, as Iyaana took her place in the center of the ritual, around her stood the Council, around them stood Nine of the highest Warlocks, and behind them stood Twenty Seven Seers, the outer circle was a further 81 Warlocks, the numbers quite precise...

From one arose Three, from three Nine, from Nine Twenty seven and from Twenty Seven stood Eighty One, channeling inwards therefore would be Three Seers to each on the layer inside of themselves.

Slowly they began to chant and sway for now simply connecting themselves, as slowly they began to match each others Heartbeat, and pulse, their bodies functions become timed to each other and syncronised to near perfection... and still it was not enough they must be perfectly syncronised for what they planned to occur, and so deeper they went into mediatation, a pungent powerful smell hung in the air, and was breathed by all, deepening their trance.

They where no longer aware of the outside world only of the Eldar next to them, and before them and still it was not enough, but they where close now...

Nathicana read over the message with concern. True, she knew well the risks and the fact that Konrad’s position required him to go where his Master directed, and that war was his business. Still …

Konrad,

It is my hope that you will fight well, and return in one piece, regardless of your worries to the contrary. I respect your valour and your dedication to your Empire, but I cannot pretend to approve of this current action. Your Master throws away lives on whims, and little enough values loyal commanders such as yourself. Being who and what he is, how could he, I suppose. What I wouldn’t give to have more commanders of your caliber here in the Dominion. I am always looking for good material, after all. And unlike some, I reward my people well.

Alas, I too digress. Your shift in command is noted, and I will forward the information on to my people. I wish you the best of luck, and will set aside a good bottle of one of my finer red wines that we can sit and enjoy over dinner upon your return. I have seen you fight. I know your capabilities.

I will be expecting you.

--Nathi

She sat quietly for a moment, pondering the possibilities, the implications of losing him. He was a valuable ally, of sorts, though it wasn't in an official sense. She had always liked the man, from the first time she met him at the Bone Cave. Strong, a bit brash, admittedly not too hard on the eyes. But in the tangled webs of the Imperium, he had been a good supporter. That was not something to dismiss lightly. She did, after all, want all the support she could get.

Nathi poured a single glass of chianti, sipping it thoughtfully in quiet salute, hoping for several reasons that the man did indeed make it back intact.

Nathi;

It is through no coercion on the part of my Lord that I fight. I fight to further my army's desire for victory, for few things hearten a fighting force more than knowing that their officers share their goals. I fight because I know the nature of war, and how to best go about attaining victory.

Seeing myself and Field Marshal Sergoyan on the front lines is likely to invigorate the men, as it is all too common nowadays for the rank and file to detest their superiors for sending them to their deaths. If the men understand that I'm sending myself [potentially] to my demise as well, then it will defuse cowardice and doubt amongst my men. We in the Five Kingdoms prefer death to failure; private and Warlord alike.

While I understand your qualms with the leadership of the Five Kingdoms, you must realize that we're not only fighting for Lord Melkor; but also we're fighting to foster those ideals with which we have become so familiar. Each of us genuinely values the rule of the strong over the weak, and we one and all seek to punish Kajal for their insolence. I don't imagine Tareldanore would so easily suffer a defection to Arda either.

If we fail to make an example of Kajal, then others will possibly decide to follow suit. We must reward loyalty with love, and reward treachery with death.

I'm sure we'll have much to discuss when we next meet. I hope you appreciate good war stories.

--Konrad


Sending the missive off, the Warlord heaves a sigh. Dropping his pen absently onto his desk, he rises slowly and stretches, gathering his belongings a moment later before heading towards the door. Almost as an afterthought he draws two large dirks from a display on the far wall, tucking the sheathed knives under his arm. Turning at the doorway, he draws his jaw, taking once last glance at his office as he flicks off the lightswitch, lingering in the darkness for a moment with a furrowed brow. There was much about the Dread Lady's response that puzzled him--mainly the change in tone, and the subtle insinuations.

Shaking his head, he steps out of the doorway and into the corridor, the door sliding shut and locking automatically behind him. 'Fuck it,' he thought. 'It's probably nothing.'

From: Brotherhood Minister of Information Ivan Vlostojivic
To: The Ashen Empire of Ermor
Subject: Third Party
Encryption: BSL-3 2048 bits

First, my apologies for my inquisitiveness; you are correct that it irrelevant where the ship came from or how Ermor captured it. I am confident we can manage to replace the AI ourselves, but your instructions will be appreciated; one never knows what can go wrong with such delicate technology. If Ermor cannot supply a partial crew for this ship, it is regrettable but understandable, and I agree that we should seek a third party within Metus who has the capability to operate the ship. I have taken the liberty of sending a message to all Metus member states asking for their help on this matter; I am currently awaiting for any of them to respond. Then, we can begin this operation.

Respectfully,
Ivan Vlostojivic, Minister of Information to the Brotherhood of Nod

To: All Metus nations
From: Brotherhood Minister of Information Ivan Vlostojivic
Subject: Crew needed for spacecraft
Encryption: BSL-3 2048 bits

Gentlemen,

as you may know I've inquired to you about sending our AI CABAL into space to use it to extract the location of the Kajali Homeworlds from one of their warships. The Ashen Empire of Ermor has been invaluable as in providing a Kajali warship, although slightly damaged, to this operation. However, they are not capable to provide a crew for said ship, and, unfortunately, neither is the Brotherhood. A third party is needed to provide an experienced crew so we can commence this operation and find the Homeworlds.

Respectfully,
Ivan Vlostojivic, Minister of Information to the Brotherhood of Nod

*TAGGED, response pending*

Velin Melivel woke up late that day. The alcohol was weighing heavily on his head and ripped at his emotions. The sunlight was blanketed against the dornskin curtains covering the window hole, circular in shape, and it was still dark inside his home. As he rolled up, his hand immediately pressed against his forehead in a dull attempt to stop the ache. He knew it wouldn't go away soon without a concoction. Coincidentally, there had been a two year research project undertaken by the Dark Circle in an attempt to cure hangovers magically. Thankfully, the potion concocted, one of hundreds, was eventually a success. It cured the headache and illness, but not the fatigue, which could be sustained through an endurance-fulfilling incantation with ease by the most novice practitioner.

Velin turned around, planting his bare feet on the wooden planks. For Orcish tree-homes, the wood was double-thick and double-nailed. It was incredibly strong and could pass for medium armor if a suit were to be made from the construction. Velin stood up, or tried to anyway. He managed to stumble to the left before planting his free hand against the wall to anchor himself. He rose up, his eyes focusing in the dimness. Velin shook his head to collect his bearings, and gripped the curtain to remove it. The sunlight etched through and filled the room. Almost blinded, his pupils shrank as fast as they could, leaving him further disoriented. He covered his eyes with his hand until the spots went away, then cocked his head back to throw his hair behind him.

Velin exited his room, wearing little besides a loincloth-like pair of shorts. Several scars and cuts covered his chest, including a puncture wound on his right shoulder. Most of these were healing scars, and showed the Lancer's experience in war situations. His people were fairly above standard as far as regenerating came about, and although they were stricken with mortality, it rarely came to it that a single strike, or two, could ever be enough to take one out of battle in their lust for Conquest on the field of honor. Velin had seen Warriors of the Raging Bear fight on with seven arrows lodged into their body and still manage to take out three to four adversaries before being overcome with exhaustion due to internal bleeding and he struck down in their fatigue.

Velin took a hold of a knotted rope and slid down to the grass, where the well was. A small aqueduct lead to a mighty lake where the Golden Grove has a Water Warlock stationed to keep the water pure. Several canals were built in the forest to forest Towns to supply them with a constant and unending water. The largest aqueducts, however, were the result of the Golden Grove, Tunnel Crawlers, and Blazing Hammer, which allowed streams through the mountains to supply the Giant armorsmiths and Weaponsmiths of the Clans with cooling fluids. These were supplemental to the already massive irrigation systems installed for the agricultural fields covering the mountains. Indeed, the High Orcish Civilization was mighty indeed, and the strength of the clans, when combined, showed how almost perfectly everything worked. Velin strolled to the resevoir, where the water reserves were kept. When not in use, this served as a bathing pit. It was unisex, due to the Orcish culture not being squeamish to sexuality, but coping with it, understanding it, accepting it, and moving onto greater things. Velin stepped into the pond, the water being a crisp cold temperature, and washed himself.

The Dorn Rider Clansmen felt a little better when returning to his room to pack his things. He knew he had missed the caravan's launch, but was sure he could make tracks to them. After all, he knew where they were going, and he knew what they were carrying. It wasn't tough to figure their logistics in comparison with how many animals they were taking.

After dressing, he supplied himself with the panacea for his ailment, and, feeling refreshed, donned his armor. He hadn't brought his Splint that day, only a lightweight chain mesh, so it was in favorable condition. Like most calvalry armor, the left shoulder had a shield covering the entirity of the upper arm and half the chest to protect doubly from lance strikes. THe shield was, of course, detachable in instances when Calvalry were knocked off their dorns. Velin was an Orcish knight, and owned a pair of High Orcish Skells, but rarely used them both on his mount. He preferred his Lance at first, and then a single Skell on his right. He strapped the gauntlets on, and picked up two spears, incase one was broken. Some lancemates were more than adequate with archery, and he was amazed at those who mastered it on a dorn in full speed. Velin wasn't as gifted with the bow, but made up for it with his Skellplay and proficiency with polearms.

Velin Meliviel strolled down the many stairs once again to the ground, heading for the stables. With the death of his Dorn the day before, he would have to register another. Fortunately, there were plenty around. The Stablemasters were pleased to provide Velin with a newly tamed Dorn named Beladrien. It was a female Dorn, and found in the wild before being domesticated. This was a risky affair for those not in the Golden Grove or Dorn Rider Clans, as wild dorns were prone to fits of aggression and violence, especially against non-orcs. Velin strapped a saddle on Beladrien, gripping his supply bag, carrion sack, provision pack, and placing the lances along the side. He slipped the reigns over the Dorn, and gripped a dead squirrel in his hand, bringing it to the muzzle of Beladrien. She ate feverishly from Velin's hand, and the sensation of the Dorn's tongue on his palm made him laugh a bit. He patted the top of Beladrien's head before thanking the Stablemaster of Naldriss, and then lead the Dorn out of the stables.

Velin checked the sun to triangulate West. He hopped on Beladrien, and gripped the reigns with his Skelled hands. His heels touched the ribcage of Beladrien, and the Dorn speed off into the forest. Velin was 3 hours late on that Caravan. He'd catch up to it before it hit the High Steppes. He would make sure of it..

Target: The Brotherhood of NOD
Sender: The Ashen Empire of Ermor

Very well. We ourselves had taken the liberty of... Preparing the ship and
sending it to you before you actually accepted it. The ship is unmanned and
navigated by its AI, its escort shall leave as soon as the ship has reached its
destination. The information you might need to replace the AI is within the ship
itself, as is the part of its designs required for the reparation of its armor.
We did not know if that is needed or not, so we put those with it. All you need
to do is tell us where to put it, and it shall appear there soon enough.

We do not care what you do with it, but if it is still intact and able to
maneuver after the operation is complete, we would like getting it back.

To: Brotherhood Information Minister, Ivan Vlostojivic
From: Adm. James Hunt, 3rd in command of Leda Colony
Subject: RE:Crew needed for spacecraft
Encryption: BSL-3 2048 bits
We are aware of your problem. We have experienced starship crews, whom we can donate to crew the ship. We can also provide surface-to-orbit transport for your engineers and equipment to the ship to install your AI. However, we do not know how effecient we can be in the crewing of the ship; despite our experience, it is with our own ships. We have little data on Kajali ships. However, if you can find no superior candidates then we offer our services.

In light of recent events the Emperor of Christoniac, Ceranuth has decided to pledge Multiple fleets of starships and freighers,as well as heavy armour and infantry divisions as well as multiple Caunarsarn special forces units to the alliance of Arda and the war effort against Kajal.

If the situation arises we will be willing to pledge more divisions/fleets.

From: Brotherhood Minister of Information Ivan Vlostojivic
To: Adm. James Hunt, 3rd in command of Leda Colony
CC: The Ashen Empire of Ermor
Subject: RE:Crew needed for spacecraft
Encryption: BSL-3 2048 bits

The Brotherhood graciously accepts your offer. I do not think that your crew will have great difficulty with the ship, as I do not expect the need to perform difficult manouvers. It is enough if the ship is close enough to a Kajali warship to enable direct contact, while our ship can stay safely behind a wall of other Metus spacecraft. It is my plan to integrate this ship into Metus patrols in space and hope that the Kajali strike teams will be so polite to attack that patrol. Another possibility is to send the spacecraft into deep space on it's own and hope for contact with any Kajali craft, which will suit it's origines better. The chances of survival, however, will then be significantly lower.

Our engineers are ready and a special copy of CABAL has been made. We can send this by armed convoy to any spaceport on Earth, or you could send your spacecraft to Brotherhood territory. While the Brotherhood does not possess much outside Earth' orbit, we do have the capacity to launch a spacecraft into space. The choice is yours.

Respectfully,
Ivan Vlostojivic, Minister of Information to the Brotherhood of Nod

From: Brotherhood Minister of Information Ivan Vlostojivic
To: The Ashen Empire of Ermor
CC: Adm. James Hunt, 3rd in command of Leda Colony
Subject: RE:Crew needed for spacecraft
Encryption: BSL-3 2048 bits

Very well. The Silver Turtle has offered a crew, and I have taken his offer, as you can read in my reply to him I CC'ed to you. If you could send the Kajali spacecraft into geosynchronous orbit above Brotherhood or Silver Turtle territory, we can handle the rest of the operation. We will try our best to keep the craft intact, but I am sure you will understand we cannot guarantee this.

Respectfully,
Ivan Vlostojivic, Minister of Information to the Brotherhood of Nod

Target: The Brotherhood of NOD
Sender: The Ashen Empire of Ermor

Very well, it shall be done. The ship should be in a geosychronous orbit over
you, the Brotherhood, in a while. After that, we will activate a part of its AI's
programming so that it responds to a certain set of codes, so it will move to
whichever direction required - in a rather dumb way, though, so making sure
that there is not much in its path is paramount.

The codes will be in this transmission itself as an attachment, so you can
control it to a point yourselves, we hope. All you need is to transmit the
codes and the direction or location to the ship, and off it goes. If you still find
yourselves to be unable to make it move, give the codes to The Silver Turtle,
for instance.

We understand that the ship might not return. It is not like we need it
anymore, but still, IF it returns intact, we want it back. If it is destroyed...
Then that is unfortunate, but not unexpected nor unacceptable.

The reports of such a mobilization were troubling to the President, yet he was unworried. He knew there was little reason for the fleets of Metus, and Melkor Unchained to take notice of the tiny presense which had been established in the realm of space by the Austar Union. Of course, he would probably take notice should he order an attack on the Five Kingdoms, but given that wasnt a habit, he doubted such an event, for the time being at least.

He knew that for some reason Melkorian Forces were well ordered for the hunt of the Four Worlds of Kajal, which the Austar Union had little contact with. Of course, he had only had relations with those within Metus, considering the Austar Union had once been a member of Greater Prussia, even if it had been for a small time. Nevertheless, the calling of Metus only proved Grove's theories more, that Metus nations had very little sovierignty really, and that they were little more than a very well organised army.

He would not comment on the situation with Kajal, granted for he had very little knowledge of the situation at hand. He only knew that the exact location of the homeworld was unknown, hidden in one of the clusters. Lucky for Kajal, for if the fleets found the four worlds, surely the nation would be ripped to shreds under the power of Melkor alone. However nothing could stop him from monitering and simply watching the events unfold, for it would only show the type of future which the Austar Union would soon have. Not one, of defeat and fear of course, but one where its forces would actually mean something to the rest of the world.

OOC: Quite a nicely written TAG if I may say so...

It took nearly an hour to escape the clutches of the Forest as Velin, strapped down to the long neck of the Dorn, held tightly and pushed Beladrien to her utmost. The Forest ground was hard due to the long, tough roots of the mighty redwoods buried deep into the ground. These were Old Trees, and this was an Old Forest, yet a well-protected one by Velin's Clan. As the forest parted ways, Velin was once more in the lucious Savanna. Though a day had passed, he could still see teams of his Clan Brethren moving around far into the distance, excavating the distaster areas, picking up shrapnel, and such. Teams from the Golden Sky had been called to repatch the land, and the shrapnel was loaded and shipped to the Blazing Hammer for research purposes. Within the week, Velin knew, it would be as if nothing had ever happened at all. The only reminders would be the memories, and Velin promised to make sure they weren't forgotten.

The convoy would pick up speed when it hit the rolling grasslands, as the ground became less troublesome to navigate. Velin wouldn't want to waste this time to take a steady pace, so kept hard on Beladrien. What would be troublesome, however, would be finding the correct Caravan. Hundreds rolled across the Savanna every day to the Blue Cave, the Pit of the Flaming Skull, the Golden Grove, the Dorn Forest, the Cavern of Tark, and the Grand City of Ursa. Even though Velin knew it would be filled with armor and weaponry, it didn't help him much in the long run. He'd have to keep a keen eye, and just keep riding hard. He knew the destination, he just didn't have the time.

In the confusion of massive troop movements, refugee traffic into Wazzu Hades picked up from its normal barely-trickling pace...by a hardly measureable margin. The trek across the boarder was made nearly hopeless by roving patrols, minefields, natural pitfalls and poisonous hot-springs, lack of fresh water, smog, and not a few very dangerous wild animals. Forget the tough, only the luckiest survived.

To:Brotherhood Minister of Information Ivan Vlostojivic (Ref.file3675.IV)
From:Minister of foreign affairs Alexander Rupert (Ref.file7892.AR)
Subject:Defence of Brotherhoods space.
Encryption:76P90-78

Due to the war against Kajal The Unholy Hordes of Christoniac offer to increase the safety of the Brotherhoods space by bolstering their fleets with ten Cratharnan class command/assault ships each armed with upgraded destroyer cannons.
If you do accept,once the war is over we shall withdraw the ships within two weeks.

To: Brotherhood Information Minister Ivab Volstojivic
CC: The Ashen Empire of Ermor
From: Adm. James Hunt
Subject: Crew
Very well. We have a heavy cruiser moving to orbit over The Brotherhood now. An Ung Tae class dropship will be entering your airspace shortly, your engineers and equipment can board this and it shall ferry them to orbit to rendezvous with the ships. It does not matter to us where the Kajali ship is placed, but above The Brotherhood would save time.

Velin slowed down as he waved down by a trekking orc dressed in a brown wool robe. He looked like some kind of human friar. As Beladrien halted, Velin dismounted, and opened a reserve canteen for the animal to suckle upon.

"Hail Knight," the frair greeted.

"Good day to you," Velin responded. He closed the canteen and hooked it badck onto the provision rack. "I am Sir Velin Meliviel of the Dorn Riders, a lancerin the ranks of the Calvalry. Why was I called?"

"And good day to you Sir. The name is Nibur Ost of the Raging Bear. I am stationed in the Savanna Post. I was wondering what went on here, and if it could happen again. We need to be prepared in case this does, as a single one of these could probably demolish the BarterTown, and our mighty Grasslands could be prone to invasion from above."

Velin shook his head, "I really don't know Nibur. It caught us all by surprise, and I'm sure everyone is doing whayt they can to recover. There must be time to grieve before it is time to growl."

Nibur nodded, "You have a point Sir Velin, though we should not tone our defense down. I'll let you have inside word that this thing has our Grid in shambles. The Golden Sky is quite concerned because these were physical exposives from the heavens. If the Red Blade were to hear of it, it would drive them into Conquest Lust, as they would take it as a sign of Lopnel for being too gluttonous in their sloth, procrastinating the ChumRas Orka. The Elementals can stop non-energy attacks, so our defensive vulnerability has been accidently exposed. My report will be instrumental in how we deal with this."

Velin rubbed his chin, understanding the sudden seriousness of the situation. He hadn't expected to hear such a thing. The Golden Sky had always been so confident in their Elemental Grid that this was usually never a problem. He saw that his Clan suddenly wasn't the only one affected. All of Arda was if someone were to realize deeply what one little shell could do. Most of the clans were hidden in forests, mountains, very small fortresses, and caves, so a salvo firing randomly due to electronic frequency jamming would have as much chance of killing the Orcs as one who could see the planet. "Seems to be quite the conundrum Nibur."

Nibur went straight for the gut, "Is there anyone I could speak with that had first-hand witness of the events that transpired?"

Velin looked solemnly at Nibur, not wanting to lie to the fellow Orc. There was no fear of Betreyal within the Clans. The Orcs did not invent untruth, and they did not follow it. "That would be me. I was there when it crashed down. I was thrown off my Dorn and knocked nearly unconscious. The world itself seems unsteady since my fall. The Barbers have yet to tend to me, for they still attempt to set the injuries of others. My dorn died in the blast, as did several of my friends. I tried to get them back in the forest before it hit, but I failed. It's my duty to set things right now."

Nibur was a bit slack-jawed at first, but managed to ask, "and are you heading to Orka to inform the EnheilRas of what happened?"

"I am to assist the transportation of a Caravan headed to the Blazing Hammer, then I am assumed to return to the Dorn Forest, but I shall go between the Twin Hills and to Orka. Yes, I intend to hold court with the EnheilRas," Velin answered with a slight pride. "If you need more information, the survivors are in a Tree Village called Naldariss. You may find more vivid witnesses there."

Nibur bowed, "I bid you farewell, Sir Velin."

Velin hopped back on Beladrian, and sped off. He had lost time, more time, and needed dearly to make up for it.

Velin had traveled slightly over a hundred miles over the Great Savanna by the time Dusk began. This puzzled him, for such a length he should have surpassed the caravan if his trajectory towards the Hall of Blazing Hammers was correct. As the sun set, and the Golden Sky filled the horizon, his Orcish optical senses could make out the brightest of stars, faint in the light. He quickly checked an Astronomy chart and saw that he, indeed, was still on track, though slightly off to the south of the linear line. As he lead Beladrien by the reigns during a resting phase in travel, Velin contemplated the detour his Clan brethren must have taken.

The closest, and most obvious, hypothesis, the Lancer figured, was that they stationed the caravan in the Plains Fortress (which had a different name for each clan. The Raging Bear referred to it as Bartertown, the Golden Sky called it the Savanna Outpost. Velin's own clan called it The Plains Fortress. It was also called Woodbuild and Oakfort by other clans). The Caravan would at least be safe from the bandits of Unaffiliated Renegades and Marauders from Angband that enjoyed poaching in the Savanna, hated enemies of the Golden Sky which were routinely caught and swallowed by the earth, or hung on a tree, their bodies torched, and thrown back into the dark land as a warning to the other nomads. Velin, however, would not, and feared such a thing in his sleep. He was no immortal being, and it was dangerous to ride out in the Great Savanna by oneself because it wasn't adequately patrolled, save the random outing of the Blue Hairs or the Raging Bear in their hunting tribes, or the loner druid from the Golden Sky trying to get in touch with nature more than they already were.

Velin walked Beladrien for another hour until the Sunset was in full bloom. He calculated by it's transition it was near 19 hours in the day. He would go until darkness and then set up for dinner. Though the night didn't hindrance him, nor his dorn, all that much, sleeping during the daytime would make him prone to more natural predators. Dorn figured he could fight back those weakling marauders much easier than a pack of Worgs. After all, the Worgs were smarter and understood team tactics. In Velin's opinion, the monstrocities that called themselves Orcs from the Far East in the land of Angband were nothing but a running gag on his species' name. They were less than animals, and to be treated as such. They were the weakest of creatures, and were meant solely to be ruled by the Mighty. They were followers with a need to find a leader. The Orcish Doctrine demanded that they be ruled and their aims are wrong. Chuma Tuncha: Might Makes Right.

After darkness blanketed the Plains, Velin noticed that it was intensely dark. The Golden Sky prohibited the Stars from shining this night. Dense Clouds layed the atmosphere as the Air Elementals had doubled in number, working through every electronic frequency and blocking everything from view from above. Everything was in a hue of alazarin as his Nightvision took over, as if looking through the spectrum of infrared light. Settling down, he gripped a skell gauntlet and sliced some tall grass into a pile. Kneeling besides it, he sliced two skell blades together to spark on the grass, setting a flame to it. As a precaution, Velin had torn the grass from around the land to prevent a wildfire. He reached into the provision pack, relieving several bones of meat from some animal, it looked like Worgs', and roasted them over the fire. Another bag housed what seemed to be the leg of a cow, chopped into digestible bits. These Velin laid out for Beladrien to devour voraciously. As the meat cooked. Velin packed his Skells on the supply bag, and slid a single lance out to be placed next to his bedroll. The High Orc sighed as the meat dripped blood and turned a dark brown.

"We can't sleep too long Bela. Come sun-up, it's to the Eastern Ridge. Give two days travel to Orca, maybe three if hospitality suits us. Just hold out for me, okay?"

Beladrien snorted once and reached for the saucer full of glacier water to hydrate her thirst in her lust of feeding. Velin grinned and leaned his head on the Dorn's side after reaching for the spit to release the meat. He gnawed into it, his sharp teeth tearing into the meat. It was mostly cooked, but wasn't done all the way. It didn't really matter too much though, as Velin could have eaten it raw without any bad effects. Taste was all that matters, and the matter didn't matter at the time.

Velin yawned, and soon fell asleep after the bone dropped from his hand.

Unity, of thought, of action of body, hearts beat as one across the many Gathered Seers, breath was drawn and released as one, the same amount of air was pulled into lungs, at the same rate. The many had become one, one shared mind one shared thought. Iyaana lifted her arm and all did the same not because they copied her, but because the thought of lifting their arm was shared by all, indeed it grew from them all.

The energy of so many seers flowed along them, sent inwards building from small trickles into streams, and then into rivers of energy, before meeting at Iyaana. and then flowing from her outwards back along the connection magnyifying at each pass through, being added to as the cycles repeated and more energy was drawn into the seers.

It built in tempo and energy, and sustained the many, they had gone beyond the need for sustenance now, Soon all would be ready, even now smaller tendrils of energy snaked from the room, they could now reach to any part of the Island with the energy they had built and the power spread ever outwards slowly it formed it grew more concentrated, a line rather than a circle, a Bridge was being formed a Bridge of Mental and Mystical power.

"Psst... Hey Bothra, Lookie-der," whispered Dproth, a crafty miscreant of Angband. The Orc had staged a minor prison riot, and managed to escape with a handful of thugs. The Haradrim were hot on his feet, and he bailed out of Melkor's lands as fast as he could and into the West, what seemed like a pleasent serenity. Doroth had never imagined that there was more beyond the fog of the Dark Lord, but it was a perfect place to hide out.

"Wot izit?" asked Bothra, a second Orc and Doroth's partner inquired.

"Luks lik'a snoozin' Wog," the third Orc, Thrak, observed.

"Shut it up! Itain't no Wog. Lookit d' snoot," Doroth pointed out. "It's wanev 'dem wolves 'dat de pretty Orcs brung."

The two goblins, Jaboo and Fabca, readied their bows.

"Bena long time since I had me sum real meat," Bothra informed.

"Let's take it then," Fabca suggested.

"Right. Keep it down Gob'n," Doroth said, and slid out his sword. Weapons had to be stolen along the way, and taking firearms from the prison armory deemed too risky due to tracking and their lack of concealment. They took to the arms of the Old Uruk-Hai. Surprisingly, they fit in, and were not suspected by the created that roamed this land.

Doroth motioned Throk forward as they creeped out of the bush and into the grass, towards the lone Dorn Animal. The Orc was careful as he approached from behind, yet upon closer observation, stopped. "'Eh Doroth! There be a fi'pit 'ere!" He said in heightened silence.

"Wot?!"

Throck turned around so the deaf bastard could hear, "I said," in a louder voice. "There's a firep--" He lost his wording suddenly as a sharp and lethal pain ripped through his chest, taking his breath away. It couldn't have been a heart attack; he could still feel his arms. Throck noticed that DOroth, Bothra, and thw two goblins had gotten wide-eyed in fear. Yet, they were focusing below him. Throck looked down, and his sword fell to the ground, his hands wrapping around the large lance that seemed to have impaled him through. To his horror, a tall, humanoid figure rose up from behind him, weilding the pike and snarling. As Throk lost consciousness, Velin stabbed the other end of the lance down to keep the nomad standing as he died. Velin growled to the other four, spreading his arms in taunt.

"You killed Throk, you ugly motherfucker!" Doroth yelled. "Kill him!"

Doroth and Bothra riupped their blades and jumped out at Velin. Bothra met Velin first and drove his blade downward at the High Orc. Velin stepped forward into the attack on the Orc's weak side, raising his knee into Bothra's stomach, negating his assault, and then lowered his elbow in a horrendous strike to Bothra's collarbones, knocking him down forcifully before turning to Doroth.

Doroth leapt at Velin, slicing his blade horizontally. Velin stepped back, bending backwards to avoid it. Doroth spinned the sword around his wrist and brought the blade vertically down upon the Knight, whom quickly sidestepped in evasion. In the moment of Opportunity that presented itself, Velin bashed his skull into Doroth's, knocking him back and losing his stance. Velin grinned, and reared back his right arm before Doroth could regain himself, and slamed it into the Orc's chin with a vicious Haymaker, propelling the Orc onto his back.

"Shoot him you dumb-asses!" Doroth shouted at the goblins as he held his head.

Velin looked up to see what the Orc meant. He noticed two pairs of bloody red eyes, like Tunneler's eyes, with short bows. With two Poit!'s, a couple arrows flare through. Velin quickly dashed to the side to avoid the first, but the second goblin bet on the manuever, but not on his speed, and an arrow launched into Velin's upper right breast, just missing his lung by less than an inch. The Arrow stuck in, barbed under his flesh, and as blood trickled from it, it only increased his fury.

The High Orc gripped the arrow, and yelled out in pain as he tore it from his chest, pieces of flesh clinging to it. He turned as Bothra had stood up and readied his arms. The Orc thrust his blade at Velin, but the High Orc, though wounded, was still much more skilled than he. Velin turned sideways to avoid the piercing attack, and with his left hand, reached for Bothra's head, his right, holding the arrow, stabbing it directly into the Orc's left eye socket. Velin growled animalistically as he pushed the goblin arrow into the Orc's skull, through it's brain in an instant death.

As the Goblins reloaded, Velin rushed to the pike where Throk was still clutching onto the last moments of his life. Doroth had recovered from his near knockout, and gripped his sword angrily. However, his melee was halted as Velin knicked the body of Throk, sliding his near-corpse to the other end of the Lance, sliding ever so cleanly through his chest, and gripped the pointed end. Grunting as his muscles flexed, Velin lifted the end as if it was a sling, and catapulted the body of Throk from the other end at the Goblins, striking Jaboo down with the corpse.

"Beladrien, Attack!" Velin commanded. Instantly, the Dorn raised up, and smelling the newly dead meat of Throk near the Goblins, dashed to them, her hungry maws drooling. The Dorn lept onto the goblins, it's 400 pound body crushing Jaboo almost instantly under the weight of Throck and the sudden impact. The Goblin's chest shattered and his eyes nearly exploded from their sockets as the Dorn turned it's head and bit through its neck, ripping it's jugular out, the Dorn's face sprayed in Goblin Bloody.

"You son of a bitch!" Doroth yelled. However, Velin kneeled down to pick up Bothra's weapon. The High Orc swung it around a couple times, testing the weight. "You want a piece of me? Fine!" The Orc yelled at the High Orc and dashed over, his wrist twirling the blade in a diagonal attack across Velin's chest.

The High Orc's grim exterior only hid his lustful passion for battle. Raising his right arm, he brought his sword in quick parry, his strength overcoming the puny Orc's, knocking Doroth's blade back. Velin's left hand reached over to grab onto Doroth's clothes to gain leverage and pulled himself close to the Orc, slamming his forehead once more into the weak flesh of the mutant. Knocked back again slightly from the disorientating blow, Doroth shook his head to regain himself, but it was far too last as Velin delt a cutting blow, bringing the dull blade downwards across Doroth's right shoulder, completely removing the arm through the joint. Before Doroth could yell in pain, Velin twirled around, extending the blade and jammed it sideways into his waist, through his intestinal tract and just infront of his spine. Velin took a step back, and gripped the hilt by both hands, and with his strength, pulled it toward him. The blade ripped out the other end like a switchboard, and Doroth's entire waist split open like a wedge, his head falling to his knees, but still connected to his body.

As Velin kicked the corpse down, leaving the sword into it. He noticed that the other Goblin had retreated hastily. The High Orc sighed, and whistled to Beladrien, whom came over obediantly, her maw filled with flesh scraps of the new meals. He petted the Dorn, and kneeled besides her, his hand holding onto his wound. That'd need to be taken care of soon....

"Maybe we should have gone to Plains' Fort.."

Velin didn't go back to sleep that night. He was too afraid of that runaway Goblin sneaking back and firing a volly of arrows at him in his slumber. He had pasted a suture to his wound and used some rope to fasten a tourniquet on it by tying it around his shoulder and chest. He learned a wise lesson that night: Sleep with your armor on. The arrow wouldn't do too much damage though, and he honestly wasn't worried about it.

He was on top of Beladrien, and a satchel or Orc limbs hung new on the back of the Dorn. It seemed like butchering victims in a sense; chopping the arms and legs off his would-be attackers, but the meat was fresh, and it would be much more nutricious to the Dorn. It wasn't like they deserved to be buried or anything. What use were they underground? As Dorn Food, they'd at least be serving more of a purpose than they did in life, besides applications of warfare. The Torso and the Head were still discarded, left for the worms and maggots.

Velin stretched his shoulder to isolate muscular damage. If that goblin did return, he may focus on Velin's wound to gain an advantage. An Orcish Knight was not invincible, but they rarely stayed down. Pain was a sixth language of the Orcish race, and they spoke it rather well; the problem that most races felt was listening to the tongue fluently. He noticed that it pained more to move his arm back, and there was a sharp shock if rotated backwards, but otherwise, motion went smoothly, if not a bit sore. Velin was not ambidextrious, so he would need to understand his limits in physical exertion until he saw a barber. Accompanied with his physical trauma the day before, Velin was quickly wearing away.

There wee still a couple hours before the sun would rise when he reached the dense rainforests that the Golden Sky occupied and could be called their Clan Territory. Velin was becoming slightly drowsy, but could endure through the fatigue long enough to get to the Hall. He reached down to pat the Dorn lovingly upon its ribs to show his appreciation of her efforts. The rainforests of the Golden Sky were largely uninhabited by sentient life. This was more or less due to Druids being nomadic in nature (pardoning the pun). They drifted, rather than set-up, and enjoyed camping before moving on, always hidden under the canopy. It would be unlikely that he would confront one of the Golden ones.

It was just before Dawn as Velin hit mile 300. There was approximately 100 more to go. Velin knew he wouldbeat the caravan there by several hours , as it wasn't scheduled to reach the Hall until mid-afternoon. That would give him plenty of time to rest and feed. With the High Step fields so close, the Hammer smiths were the best fed of any Orc, even the High Fist Generals, and rightly so. They were the fuel of the clans and treated with the greatest of admiration for their skill, and were given the freshest and highest quality meals to keep them content. Though Velin had never personally witnessed one of the thousands of mills that produced hundreds of thousands o9f ittems, but knew of the environment. It was a miserable one at that: constantly pounding metal with hammers, mixing with molten fluids. It was constantly 120 degrees or more.

Velin stopped when he heard something, or thought he did anyway. The High Orc quieted the dorn and slowly surveyed his surroundings. The Plains were empty to his back and left. However, the Jungles to his south, they stared menacingly at him. Velin knew that the river source from thhe Lake of Shadow by the Flaming Pit lead down to the Golden Pond. Something could have been following him, just using the river.

He then heard it again. It sounded like someone hitting a big drum, but Velin was sure it wasn't, because there was a minor tremor. Velin didn't feel it, but Beladrien did. The dorn was spooked, and it did not bode well for the lancer. He would have to investigate.

Velin dismounted, and gripped his Skell gauntlets. He slid them on and flexed his hands. It had been a while since Meliviel had used his honorary weapons. He activated the buckler fins, sharpened like the ends of a battle axe, and extended the skell blades. He retracted them, and reached down to unbind one of his three lances. He brought it across his lap, and both hands gripped the rod and twisted. A lock unhinged and the weapon slowly unscrewed As it broke open, Velin slid the lower half out, revealing a barbed spear with a fluid tip of tranquilizer. He jerked the top half up and down once, and a long shaft launched down, locking into place. Velin now had two spears. He tossed the top one up, grabbing it in mid-air in a ready-to-throw position. He slowly approached the breach into the Golden Forest. He had hped it was just some weird druid ceremony, but knew it wasn't, because Druids don't scare animals...not even the evil ones.

"AAAAIIIIIEEEEE-AAAAHHHHH!!!!!" screamed the Goblin from the previous encounter, riding atop an Mordorian Troll as he thrashed through the rest of the trees in a Bee-line to Velin. He didn't pause in Horror, but immediately gave ground, trekking backwards as the creature rushed, like a mad ape, towards the lone Orc. Velin was very quiet when fighting, unlike most of his brethren whom roared in various mottos and warcries. Velin was silent and calculating. If he hadn't been such a great lancer, he may have been a candidate for the Flaming Skull. As the troll broke through the forest and once more into the Plains, Velin launched the lance-spear out, nailing the Riding Goblin in its right breast with such a force it knocked the thing off the shoulders of its partner, falling to the ground.

Unmolested and unaffected by the spear, the mighty troll attempted to slam its great fists down to squish the Knight. Velin leapt to the side, rollin while keeping the second spear close to not inject himself, and in the moment of recuperation, jammed it into the right calf of the troll, sticking it and ripping it out, the barbs tearing out flesh and muscle in the penetration. Enraged, it moved its right hand back, smacking Velin across the chest, flying backwards along the tall grass.

The armor had taken the blunt of the damage, but Velin had the wind knocked out of him. As he stood up, Beladrien had rushed to his side. Velin grinned and leapt atop the Dorn as the troll once more rushed towards him. The dorn, affirmed of her rider's presence, quickly evaded and outmanuevered the slow animal she faced. Velin focused on gripping a second lance, ripping it from its binds to once more thrust it at his opponent. He'd taken notice of the potency of these creatures. Velin, alone, wouldn't be able to take once down without using some fairly unorthodox tactics.

As Beladrien ran further away from the Troll, Velin took reins once more and turned her around into a jousting position, and charged his opponent. The Troll could understand intimidation. It took the challenge, arms raised high and roaring, wanting ever so much to rip them up and eat them. Velin treated the beast as an animalistic predator, with a simple mind. Before the moment of truth, he juked to the right, leaning as far right as he could, nearly pulling the dorn down upon him, as he thrust the lance upward into the Trolls armpit, a fleshy, soft area, easily prone to pain when struck, and bled out.

Beladrien rushed away while the Troll stopped to roar in anger and injury, ripping the lance from it. It did not break it, however, as it recognized its use for weaponry. Velin used this chance to ready his final one, but quickly and hastily unscrewed it to produce spears once more. The Troll snorted, viscous mucus and hot air flaring from its blunt nostrils. Velin reared the dorn again, inviting the Troll for a second joust. It took the invitation sweetly, pounding its left fist on the ground in a tremor.

Velin padded his dorn softly on its neck, and jerked the reins. Beladrien sped towards the Troll branishing the Orcish Lance, in a final run. Velin hopped on the saddle, focusing on his balance as he surfed upon her spine, and threw the lance-spear at the Troll, striking it in the chest. Confused by the dishonor in its attempt to understand the game, the Troll immediately attempted to remove the lance to have two weapons against the Orc. Velin used this bet call for Beladrien to leap at the troll, and at the apex of her jump, he ripped into the air himself, flipping over the head of the troll, and using both hands, tore into the back of the animal with the barbed spear, holding onto it like a lifeline.

In agonizing shock, the troll reared back, dropping both weapons as it reached back to stop what was happening. As its grubbing hands tried to take Velin off, he dropped from the spear, and quickly jerked his wrists outward, the Skell blades opening, and rushed under the creature, arms outward, slashing through its achilles' heels. As the muscle ripped in two, the troll fell back, unable to stand back up. Velin sighed heavily, out of breath, and retracted his gauntlets.

He whistled for Beladrien, whom trotted towards him, and mounted on top of the animal. He would leave the animal as it was, and let nature take it course. That was the law of the Golden Sky, and he was within its domain. Nature must take its course, now and forever.

The fleets moved. Into Sol, throughout Pleaides, and beyond, diving far into the uncharted territories beyond the edge of surveyed space as it was known by Kajal.

Over 2 million sentients were aboard the vessels of the combined fleets, crewing them, and readying the vessels for battle. Of the four worlds, it was projected that all would be lost, as the Kajali navy would be required to fight the enemy warships to a standstill in space, preventing any ground forces from reaching soil. It was unlikely that it would be possible.

In the scant weeks afforded by Kajal's relatively unknown location, government officials had relocated to various locales, Mars included among them.

However, one cannot simply relocate 2.7 billion civilians, scattered across four worlds, in mere weeks. Billions would die, as the Four Worlds would die. Glorious, tropical Kajur, reduced to fields of shimmering obsidian, the atmosphere burned away and the seas scoured from the globe, would become a monument to a people that had suffered for centuries under tyrannical leadership. Solanna, and it's endless golden sands would suffer much the same fate. The ancient ruins would be lost forever, destroyed as the planet would become nothing more then a cinder.

Out of the Four Worlds of Kajal, only one truly had a chance of remaining unaltered by the Ardan war machine, even if the chance was slim enough to have been measured in nanometers.

The Laedan shipyards continued to churn out what vessels they could, while operations over Ljusalfheim wound down, the products of the shipyards travelling far into uncharted space, with a precious sentient payload.

The Four Worlds would die, but the Kajali would live on, well beyond the reach of any current enemies. Their art, their culture, would live on, and interact with the other powers of Sol, under the guise of the government of Kajal Mars, ensconced safely behind the defenses of the fourth planet of Sol.

The two true Kajali Cultures would separate at last, and Kajal Mars would inherit the remnants of whatever Four Worlds fleets managed to limp to Mars.

The planned strikes began the moment the final vessel entered the high-distort, decade long journey through subspace, initiated by the massive ring construct above Ljusalfheim Secundus. Shortly afterwards, the ring itself, the Subspace Launcher, was destroyed, engulfed in a rift the size of a small moon, as it's launching matrix was deliberately overloaded to the point of inducing a singularity cascade.

Kajal proper would die, and the only true Kajali contact with Sol would not occur until the colonial Kajali were able to cross the gap back to Sol.

It would likely be several hundred years before the ability to do so would achieved by the Colonials.

In the meantime, the Kajali Fleets made their final move. If it worked, the opposing forces would fight each other to a stalemate. If it didn't, and the probability was high...

Checkmate.

At the same time that the fleets began their movements, reports of dissent amongst the citizenry began appearing on varied news networks. Embassies throughout Kajurmani were sacked by the populace, stripped bare of anything of value, and the Kajali government staffers either killed outright or held as hostages.

Within hours, the vidcast would be transmitted across Sol's networks, showing members of the general populace hacking at charred corpses. Other vidcasts would show the Imperial Palace burning, bearing scars from heavy plasma cannons that had been 'liberated' from City Defense. Several citizens stood around a particularly large crater in the steps of the palace, which the numerous Imperial rulers ascended as part of the tradition surrounding the first meeting of the Senate for the year.

The leader of the Kajurmani faction appeared in the vid, proudly showing the steps, slick with blood and several small fragments of bone, still smoking, to the holocams. In the background, the Senate chambers burned.

"This is all that remains of that traitorous martian witch. She could not possibly comprehend the impossibility of her attempts to turn us from the glory of Lord Melkor's power! She was unworthy of even a dog's death!"

The man spat on the few remains scattered across the remnants of the steps, and the Senate chambers collapsed behind him. The government had been willing to sacrifice the people of Kajal, but the people themselves did not particularly want to make such a sacrifice themselves.

"To battle!" Bellowed the Taskmaster as he stood on the ramp to his Company's Nemesis class Dropship. Soldiers filed past and climbed into the vessel, ready for the journey that would take them to Kajal... once they figure out where in the Pleaides they were.

"Kajal will be crushed under the iron boot of the Five Kingdoms!" He shouted again. "Their infidelity will never be forgotten! Onward my brothers, for death and glory! We will hunt them to the ends of the universe to repay their favor! Leave none alive!"

Almost all of them were Haradrim infantry elites, of the 3rd Division. Their Company was called the Fury's Call, and they would be on the front lines, battling the Kajali tooth and nail for their treachery. A massive propaganda campaign had been underway for some time now in the Five Kingdoms to rally the populous against this new threat, and military planners were pleased with how well it had been working. The men had been worked into a bloodthirstyy fervor, hungry for any opportunity to slaughter the Kajali traitors.

Sergeant Ghuda Imran settled into his seat and strapped himself in, as his squad did the same around him. "You boys ready?" He asks loudly. The men pause what they're doing, and each lifts a fist into the air. "Yes Sir Sergeant we are!" Came the unanimous reply. "We're ready to crush and humilate our foe for our Lord and Land!"

Ghuda grinned. "And who shall escape your grasp?" came the follow-up.

"No-one!" His men shouted. "We will slaughter them all!"

The routine had quite obviously been spoken thusly many times before, as each man delivered his lines with a sort of reverant enthusiasm, and in strict meter with everyone else. As they continued to prepare for their departure, squads around them did more or less the same thing. Each squad had its own chant--a war cry if you will to stir the hearts of men to battle. It worked very well.

Finally, just as the last squad was loaded in, the Taskmaster steps inside and surveys his Company. "Men, we stand today on the eve of battle. Our good ship here, the Eater of Souls will take us to Aurontel where we will gather more resources and equpiment for the first push on the Kajali system."

The craft began to lift off, and the Taskmaster reached out to seize a support beam. "It won't take us long to find the Kajali homeworld. Once we do, it will be up to you to establish a foothold on ground once the Fleets carve their way through the Kajali space defenses. Are you ready to fight, and to die, for the word of Lord Melkor and for me?!" he asks in a demanding tone.

"We are!" Came the cry from two hundred mouths. "We will show no remorse, no pity, and we will grant no quarter. The earth will pass beneath our feet as we push onward to the destruction of our treacherous foes!" came the response, delivered once more in that eerie, practiced meter of the Haradrim.

The Taskmaster smiled grimly. "Good."

The Combined seers smiled as one, and the Bridge of mental energy continued to snake outward for now it was invisible to the unitnitiated eyes, but to those whose sight went went beyond the Physical and into the Mystical it was as a shining bridge of purest light and it was snaking it's way rapidly now towards Arda extending enlarging, growing stronger with every passing second.

Soon all would be ready for the Council's plan, indeed even as Eater of Souls Moved towards Aurontel it had begun the final part of it's journey and edged it's way closer to the Territoral waters of the Various nations of the Ardan Continent, it was almost time.

((OOC hoping that Ctan notices this otherwise my part will... be missing the main focus ah well..))

Even though the Sun had risen three hours ago, it was still densely overcast. This was the 'High-Risk' in the security terror alert rating. It was gloomy and droll, and matched the depression of the sorrowful event. The clouds were a dark color, near black. It was an ominous sky. They illuminated as bolts of heat lightning attacked each other, like a Cloudweaver's war. Nearly a thousand Air Elementals soared Arda by then, their Warlocks put into double- and triple-shifts to provide more than needed defense. The lightning triggered the natural deterrent, and could be directed quite accurately.

V elin's eyes were heavy; much moreso than his equipment. He lay, hunched over Beladrien, having yawned more than he had brought to the journey. The Dorn's pace had withered to a dull trot. Velin had nearly dozed off, when he felt the rhthmic movements of his dorn's bones come to a halt. Had she been exhausted? Were there more enemies? A water source? Velin rose up, and crooked his neck towards the sky. He beheld a great granite mountain, raising three miles into the atmosphere. It was the Great Peak, and the massive hole in the side was the entrance to the Hall of Blazing Hammers.

Velin had reached his destination.

After sentries had come to great the weary High Orc, he was ushered inside, where Beladrien was rushed to the stables, and Velin lead to the cottage caverns. At the sight of the bed, Velin's armaments fell from him and launched himself on the object, almost immediately passing out.

Living in a cave is certainly an experience to get used to, especially if said cave is so deep it becomes impractical to have lights ONe's sleep cycle needs to be so well-trained that you no longer need stimulus to awaken. Most beings use the presence of absence of sunlight to signal their transitions. Cave-dwellers live and grow with only knowing things in concepts. There is no circadian rhythm. THere is no natural concept of time. There is just the rhythem of your heart. There is just the time you put into your work. The Clansmen of the Blazing Hammer did this because they not only enjoyed it, but were masters of the lifestyle. Dwarven methods, Elven Finesse, and Kobold quality intermixed to the masterpiece that was High Orcish manufacturing.

Velin woke up several hours later. He had no idea how long he'd been asleep. He stood up, his bare feet on the rough rug that covered an especially rocky floor. He put his clothes on, but left off his armor and weapons for once. The cotton and leather felt supremely light, and felt felt not only faster and more flexible, but stronger and more dexterious. His right hand stroked his left arm slowly, feeling the contours of his bicep and thick forearm. He flexed and grinned. He believed himself strong. He believed himself skilled. Yet he was humbled to a whisper when he exited the room and saw what only could be members of the Blazing Hammer.

Their muscular physique was beyond comparison. Years filled with months filled with weeks filled with days filled with hours of pounding steeled mithril and metal ore alloys with hammers had engorged their strength beyond what Velin considered mortally possible. Most were quite tall, and wore light leather clothing that was skimpy in coverage. As Velin strolled freely through the caves of the Hammer Clan, he was witness to a the weapon testers and armorers; perhaps the most knowledgeable Orcs in existence on their fields. These had the task of breaking armor and shattering weapons to test the limits and push the bar of Clan equipment. It kept the innovations coming, and kept peak quality to the Basics of Orcish Essentials. This was the Heart of the 13 Clans.

Velin entered the Hall of Blazing Hammers, deep in the crag. The Heat was unbelievable. Controlled streams of molten magma poured through the walls into the lake below the corridor, swirling into a whirlpool of the planet's blood to be harnessed elsewhere into the mills. Velin was not the only one in the Hall, was it was a major transportation pathway and Orcs of all kinds traveled down the Hall, most pushing carts filled with hanging chassis and stockpiles of weaponry. There was little talking he could hear, for the churning of lava was quite loud. Velin wondered if his own shipment was somewhere along the near 40 mile long hall. Everything was so automated and fast. Velin wondered if there was any administration at all. He assumed that, on the local level, Jagged Crown Orcs kept things in order as High Step Delegates kept political issues pressed, High FIst made sure armies were in shape, Lopnel preachers held mass, and Golden SKy, Dark Circle, and Dripping Fang Clans all had their respective guildhouses. But that wasn't what he needed. It was the industrial level which he knew little of, and industry was why the Blazing Hammer is.

Velin didn't even know the Chieftain's name of the Clan, and he found that a bit odd. THe Dorn Rider's Chieftain, Tarsonis, or Chief DOrnclaw, was a celebrity among the Forest. Velin had been knighted by his very blade. The Dornmaster was quite open and public with his brethren, and put forth his efforts to transform the animal into an engine to fuel all things. Velin's clan were the legs of the Army. They controlled all logistics in the society. He could tell the title from the markings of the Laws: The Grim Hammer. The CHieftain ran a very efficient and highly regulated clan, sieving all but the most dedicated of weaponsmiths and armorers. Artisan Professions and engineers also thrived, learning and expanding Orcish technology, designs, and redefining the means to an end. The Blazing Hammer was truly an engine to be feared. Yet, it always remained hidden from ally and enemy. No one whom never entered the mountains ever knew about the Hall. Natural Camoflage at its finest.

It would take a bit over 8 hours before Velin could reach the end of the of the Hall on foot at a brisk pace. He surmised that several of his own tribesmen made a great living just running transports up and down the Hall all day. It just seemed too tedious a life to Velin. He desired more action than that. He was no flunkie to live so dull in such servitude. That's not to say that he hadn't had his fair share of couriering messages across the Plainsland though, for he had. He was more used for scouting, reconnaissance, and mapping, since Velin was a talented artist. It was he whom actually made the first map of the Orcish Lands. Not that it needed done, for regional tribes knew the ways to get where you wanted to go, but it made sense in a clerical fashion to have one carved out.

By the time Velin had reached the halfway point in the Great Corridor, his stomach had gotten to him. There were a few thousand mess halls along the insides of the High Steppes, and Velin hadn't stumbled onto a single one. He sat down to rest his sore feet and sighed. However, his rest would be short.

"Sir Meliviel?" asked a quasi-familiar voice.

Velin glanced up to notice the fighter he had met in the Grasslands. "Nibur, is it?" he asked. That wool robe must have been frying the Orc.

"Quite! Yes, you do remember. I'm glad to have met you here. I was just heading to get something to eat. Would you pleasure me the company?" Ost, of the Raging Bear inquired.

Velin had little choice in this manner, "I wouldn't mind that at all. Not at all indeed."

The Combined seers smiled as one, and the Bridge of mental energy continued to snake outward for now it was invisible to the unitnitiated eyes, but to those whose sight went went beyond the Physical and into the Mystical it was as a shining bridge of purest light and it was snaking it's way rapidly now towards Arda extending enlarging, growing stronger with every passing second.

Soon all would be ready for the Council's plan, indeed even as Eater of Souls Moved towards Aurontel it had begun the final part of it's journey and edged it's way closer to the Territoral waters of the Various nations of the Ardan Continent, it was almost time.

((OOC hoping that Ctan notices this otherwise my part will... be missing the main focus ah well..))


The Dark Circle, 50 miles (approx) NE of Orca. Borderland between Angband and the Heart of Arda

Dorin sat in his chamber, within the very center of the Dark Circle, a Super-Nexus of Magical Energy which intertwined the mass-intersection of 7 Ley Lines. The Darkweaver sat, silently, concentrating as his fingers held loosely to his Cane, laying on his lap. A dozen high initiates that served him were busy with their hallowing and preparing the Circle for another Rite. It was their job to keep the Ritual Ground forever prepared, and the necessary ingrediants: Purified Imbued Water, Liquified Silver, Blood, Candles, Oils, and enhanced tools made purely for the cause of Incredibly Powerful Rituals.

While seated within the Dark Circle, The Darkweaver was attuned to all the magical eminations in the Entire Continent, his mind connected to all the Ley Lines that were completely invisible to the naked eye, except at night, and only then, where there's no modern civilizations, where they appeared as huge tunnels of crackling blue energy streaking across the sky. Some went in the sky, others through the ground. However, most never realized that many went undersea.

Dorin could sense all the Magic along the continent, as it drew strength from the very Ley lines he was connected to. He could track the Elementals which fed from them and used them to sustain themselves. He could pinpoint the rituals being used in the Hammer Smiths to create minor Rune Weaponry. He was omniscient, as a God.

"What's this?" The Mighty Darkweaver questioned. It seemed something was causing a temporal rift to open on the region. He noted the trajectory. This wouldn't stand. This wouldn't stand at all. Dorin's grip upon his cane tightened and he stood up. "Work Harder Maggots!" he screamed at the Initiates. "We may need that sooner than you believe." Dorin waved his cane around him, and closed his eyes, starting to mumble.

As his body began to disintegrate into astral transcendence, he grinned. He'd been waiting for this for years.

-------------------------------------------

The Golden Grove, Capitol of the Golden Jungles

While in Pure Astral Form, Dorin could travel almost superluminously along the Plane. His first destination was the Golden Grove. Gaia's Chosen were the first to be informed. Upon Arrival, the mighty Darkweaver emerged into the Golden Grove, a small clearing made of natural mounts and grass in the middle of a dense and almost dangerous rainforest. The Six stood there, in silence.

"There is to be an attack. Prepare your defenses. Choose your Warlocks wisely, and make sure the Druids and Beastmasters are prepared," Dorin commanded. He waved his hand, and an illusion of Arda in geographical form spread itself, and with his finger, he drew where the Yvresse Tunnel was, and it's current trajectory. "My Templars shall attempt to cut it from its origin, like a severed ambilical cord. We will see if this can be done to destroy this in its infancy. However, should that prove fruitless, the land must be ready to fend for itself."

The First among the Earth stood and nodded. "The Land will be Ready to Fight, Darkweaver."

The First among Beasts stood and nodded. "As will its peoples."

The First among Nature stood and nodded. "As will its inhabitants."

Dorin grinned and bowed. "There is no fear as that of a continent fighting for itself."

------------------------

Dorin appeared once more in Orca, walking into the chambers of the High Fist. Manus, Teel, and Ignex were eating when the Darkweaver trounced in the mess hall.

"It is time. They are coming."

It took less than 10 minutes. The Clans were going to mobilize...

It had arrived a small foothold upon the greater continent of Arda, not perfect yet, it had much to grow but from here they knew it would be a fight, rather than the simple start. Now then the Seers and Warlocks moved into the next stage. As one each drew forth a Blade, as the Blades where drawn and held the power grew.

'The Witchblade reminds us that we are sworn to the defence of the living. As we wield this Blade our strength grows to better fulfil this charge.' The voices spoke as one once more each giving form to the words the others spoke. 'From the living then we anchor the Bridge we have formed.' For once Iyaana alone spoke but it was as the mouth of the Body speaks rather than as an individual.

Once more they drew forth items this time Gemstones, Spirit Stones From the Dead we are reminded of the greater charge, for the race. With them our strength grows Again they spoke as one.

And again Iyaana spoke alone in response 'From them we serve the greater cause, of the future, of Ynead, of hope.'

As one they turned to the center of the circle and Iyaana's hand reached forth drawing a second Gem which was placed before her, in the absolute center. 'The Soul of Melian, He who was a Council. From him we draw Wisdom' They intoned and again she drew a second blade placing it above the Gemstone of Melian The Blade of Melian, He who was a Council, from him we draw strength. From him we draw conviction, from him we draw, survival against all odds.

With the drawing of the Blades the Bridge had been set now... they where readying for something else something new... and the parts where in place.

((Some notes Okay for this sort of thing I'd ideally have wanted to have finished a roleplay I started a while back, as is through Melian is a good substitute. Melian was my first High Farseer, and is a legend amongest the Tor Yvresse, as the man who led them alone....))

Before they departed the Farseers had made a detour in the Web, to a place rarely visited, a place of ever shifting laws, a place where shapes moved without seemingly having phyiscal bodies, this was of course false it was simply that they where ever so slightly removed from the point in time occupied by the others. It was a depositary of knowledge from a thousend dead worlds, a uncounted number of Mystics, Seers and lore Masters. A Place that if one only had the time contained the knowledge of the universe to be uncovered.

It was known in the tongue of the Mon-Keigh as the Black Libary, here mysteries where understood, and God Hood was for the taking, again if one had but the time. From this place the Council had removed but a single text, an ancient scroll that they had brought with them to the ritual, within it's arcane words was the key to their plans, and it was this now Iyaana lifted as the single entity they had begun read the words and readied themself for what they where about to do.

It would happen soon, the room shook with barely contained energy soon the attack would begin, even as they felt the searhing gaze of the Ircs upon the Bridge, probing eyes seeking the source of the power, soon through the Orcs would have a different problem on their hands something they could not have expected.

((OKay the Black Libary addition was a last minute one, but it made sense for what I had planned so... besides I want to introduce the Black Libary as an existing place for future roleplay potential.))

The Atmosphere of Arda was shirked as Air Elementals whipped through the continent at near Mach 9, each having a message to the leader's of each nation of the Astral Passage. Each also had the coordinates, drawn up by Dorin and how best to assuage the situation, tactically of course. The First Among the Air was satisfied as the 20 Elementals returned within the hour, and were let free to their respective Little Brothers. He gave a nod to the others of the Golden Grove, and smiled. His part was far from over.

---------------

Even with the other nations notified, Manus knew that this was their fight. It was their time to prove themselves. He was meeting with Teel, Ignex, Dorin, Riga, and Trabian.

"What we have here is a wormhole," Trabian said. "It's a sort of mystical tunnel that can link two parts of existence together," he added, almost with a derogatory emphasis towards Teel.

"I don't care what it is," Teel told the Tactician. "How should we move to stop it?"

"Dorin seems to have already engineered something," Manus stated. "What have you done, Darkweaver?"

"I've met with Gaia's Chosen," he informed. "They've sent envoy. They've readied a few hundred Warlocks to Ursa. Their ranks have blended in with Teel's. My own Cadre are ready, but my work will be in the Circle. With the correct Temporal Ritual, this thing can easily be cut off. Buy me some time and watch."

"Then get to it Dorin, and good luck," Manus said, and Dorin exited the room.

"You guys do realize that these fools are bottlenecking themselves to enter right?" Riga realized. "If you just hit 'em with siege weaponry and destroy their landing zone, they'll be both vulnerable in the wasteland. Nothing to cover them and nothing to hide from. Just keep them inside that little portal and if Wizard Darkboy there can seal them off, then they'll be stuck."

Teel rubbed his chin, it was growing small hairs lately, perhaps he was trying to grow a goatee. "It'd have to be constant. Perhaps the Firerain would do, but it requires water as fuel."

Trabian just grinned, "Nothing like a little rainstorm before a war, eh?"

------------

The weather around the foothold was dark, with clouds black as ash, and streaming water in freezing strips, making the ground muddy and dense. The temperature in the Yvresse landing zone was slightly below freezing atmospherically, but slightly above landwise, making the water into solidified ice strips. The very trees seemed to moan in horror, their leaves and many limbs ripped from their main trunks, littering the unstable ground. The elements had already been at work.

The oceans around the bay ravaged, and tidal waves crashed against the coast as the temperature of the oceans grew colder and colder. The waves seem to be getting larger as they persisted their assault on the land, as if unnaturally disturbed. They rose to the challenge, and beat against the ground, as if the sea was scratching at the land.

The Land was swarmed with invisible energy forms of Elementals, communicating through mental bonds with their Warlocks over the happenings, and just waiting for the time where they could take up their bodies and fulfill their brother's wishes.

---------------------------

Now, unless you try to land on the East Coast, within the Five Kingdoms, you'd find that the Ratio of Orc-to-Human population is rather low. The highest ratio would be within the Orc Highlands, directly in the Heart of Arda, and spreading thinner as you head East. As only a fool would try to dock in Angband, of all places, it is assumed that one's enemies would dare try the Icy Northlands of Addamous, or the Western Empire of Wretchengard or Rezo, perhaps Neo-Wu? As it was, these technophile nations could do little to assault a mystical portal. Yet, their Orc population is smaller than 5% at most.

The Heart of Arda, where the Clans prosper, allowed them to move efficiently to any nation in the region with quickness, save the Island owned by Ermor, and the Isle of Kalessin, which few would venture anyway, while still holding the most defendable point in the entire continent. Ursa, the largest city in the Clans lands, and capitol of the Raging Bear, the highest clan in numbers and diversity, making the most of Non-Human refugees from other nations, including Orcs and Trolls from Angband, were in charge of hauling the large siege engines, and were accompanied by the Orcish Engineers and alchemists of the Blazing Hammer, who's concoction 'rainfire' was absolutely devestating (Greek Fire & Napalm housed within a hallowed impact-sensitive shell and covered with Kerosine and lit on fire, then tossed with a Trebucher).

The perfect moment to begin had come upon them. For quite some time now, they had been simply keeping an eye on the Kajalian outposts that were connected to Epsilon Pegasi through some odd network of wormholes, or something the undead thought to be wormholes. What they really were was of little consequence, and did not matter at all. They had not been used for travelling anyway, the undead preferred the Underworld over everything.

Ever since a war had been declared upon the nation the dead had stolen ships and even a station from, a nation that had formerly been in the alliance the undead had some interest in, the Lich Queen knew that this could be what Caractor would need to make his colony a part of the alliance that it was a neighbor of. To penetrate the skin of the beast, so to speak, those she commanded would have to prove their worth. Having a direct link to one of the power blocks of the living could prove useful.

So, she had ordered Alcastos to begin the operation now that the Kajali had abandoned their outposts, leaving them vulnerable to any attack. The operation that was simply a series of simultanuous strikes upon the Kajali outposts to take them over as intact as possible. Alcastos was commanding the undead in Epsilon Pegasi and thus directly in command of the whole operation that was to take place.

A wry grin came upon his spectral face. This command was something Alcastos had been waiting for years. Finally they would do it. Finally they would use their fleet to find out what those outposts hold. Although it now meant that the outposts would be of much lesser value than they could have been before, but he did not care.

He shrieked in glee to those who were with him in the command center of the asteroid station. The living would once again give the dead their secrets. This would only be the first attack of many. But finally, finally it was time to begin!

The feeling was strong others now attempted to deal with their hole, and prevent it from forming, with a grin spread across all the forms they saw how they attempted to do such, the fools thought this prelude to an invasion. Weather, and siege engines, the tools of the physical had been arranged before the council. Oh Mages where begining also to attempt to close the Bridge down it was not a completly wasted attempt but the Warriors where a mistake, one the council would punish merciously.

Pave the way for the connection, provide us with the time. As they spoke the forms of the Warlocks and other Seers slumped forwards a second and the Mystical Flow halted, before being picked up by the SPirit Stones and Witch Blades, it was much weaker now, but that suited the Farseers plans for now, it was not needed as powerfully now.

Through the Bridge the Minds of the Warlocks flew, down and over intil they appeared as shining forms at the side, almost formless, insubstanial, they where the stuff of thought, Warp Presences intruding in the Physical, and yet a Thought can kill all action is ordered by the mind, war, Murder all things begin first as simple thought processes, and from there actions.

The first of the Warlocks took shape now, a Sword of Flame appeared in his right hand, in his Left a shield of Ice, each of the others soon where simarly armeroured, Thirty of the Warlocks shot upwards towards the Elementals, their intention to slay those creatures, Thirty others would be readied to meet any Mages that came at them the remainder would stand guard preparing for any thing else that was tried

Back inside the Ritual chamber the Farseers smiled, a little further and it would be time. Their intention here and now was simple, Arda was too strong to defeat, they had seen this once before Arda would not fall to a direct attack, however once before they had hoped to prove that Arda could be hurt on it's own shores, and that was the intention here and now, to break the image of being invioloute yet their was one other intention and soon it would be time for such to begin. The smile spread and the bodies of Darvins and Galdern slumped as the Warlocks before them, the Witch Blades and Spirit Stones could not compensate truely for their absence, they would just have to fill in, it did not matter, their role was subtlely different... and they sped off down the portal, appearing by the Guards, the Warlocks defending the entrance, and then they where gone.... Seeking the hidden places of Arda. The Keigh had only begun in their goal to bring Chaos and disorder... This was a mere misdirection for their true plans... and yet it was also an end in and of itself.

(There aren't any Orcs there yet. Ursa is far to the East, and a mere mountain chain keeps it from being in Angband. Logistics are slow with pre-industrial revolutionary technology. The Raging Bear won't be able to arrive with the siege engines for at least another day. Logistics can be so slow that the EnheilRas doesn't even know of the Kajali orbital Strike. It was only because of Dorin noticing your Astral Gateway did everything set up so fast. Few things can throw their weight around as the Darkweaver can. Your men see nothing but intentionally bad weather, save for Warlocks whom can see the energy forms of the Elementals, but from what I see, aren't equipped to dismember them in that form. They are peaceful beings until provoked.)

The Energy Forms of the Elemental Spirits just bobbed to and fro, unhurt by the Magic Weapons. The Warlocks, they could sense, knew quite little of them, and they dashed around, informing the Oligarchy as they Tor Yvresse slashed at them uselessly. It was odd that they could see them. Many Elemental Spirits questioned this, and bombarded the Warlocks with telepathic questions of:

"Why are you here?"

"What are you doing?"

"Why must you attack us?"

"What have we done to earn your wrath?"

"Where is your homeland creature?"

"What sort of pest trifles with such power?"

The Elemental Spirits still lay, intangible, invisible, and without bodies, near invulnerable (they can be destroyed by a single weapon in their energy form, but hell if I am telling you that). They couldn't very well attack the Warlocks of the Yvresse, but their curiosity was quite obvious. Only the Warlocks would be able to communicate with the Elemental Spirits. They would listen to nothing else. This was due to the unexplainable bond between Warlocks and Elementals.

The Dorn Rider's Cavalry, however, was less than 30 miles in their ride. Chieftain Dorcla had brought a full division of 5,000 Orcish Calvalry. It'd be less than half an hour before their assembly and charge would be able to take place.

The Flaming Skull Clan's Belca Bristleback, however, was chosen by Dorin, to accompany him to the Dark Circle. No ritual had yet begun, as Dorin was in contemplation on how to remedy the situation. Dorin had allowed a dozen Golemancers and a coterie of Necromancer's to accompany the Ursa Division, but he had little use to the fight as of now, which really disappointed him, as he was lustful for the cries of war.

Five Squads of 20 from the Flaming Skull, the most powerful warriors that the Clan had ever produced, had issued their way over to the entrance. They rode High on Dorns, equipped with lightweight, but tough, Orcish Splint, and carrying their Skells for war.

However, the Dark Circle Guilds in Ursa, Oakfort, Orca, The Flaming Pit, the Golden Grove, the Shrine of Lopnel, and the Subterra were all readying Temporal rituals.

Caractor, the ancient Arch Censor of the long-dead Ermorian holy empire, sat on a black stone chair on the highest floor of the tower they had built to the Ardan isle. The great walls around it had been finished some time ago, and the tower stood right in the middle of it. Thus protected, he now mostly remained in his own chambers, deep in his dark thoughts, letting out dark laughter at times. The power armor on him was as black as the chair he sat upon was. As the whole room he was in was. Only several green lights illuminated the room, giving it a sickening atmosphere.

He kept a sword on his lap, a sword as black as his own suit, his right hand on its handle, his left hand on the blade. The sword's blade was full of runes of death and destruction, it is said that it had been tempered in the essence of dying souls when it was made. The Sun Slayer it is called by those who know of its existence, a sword that can only be wielded by those who have died. A purple, tattered cape covered the chair's back. It was the only thing that now indicated his rank as the Arch Censor.

But his solitude was disturbed by someone. Something.

"Arch Censor, there is something that needs your attention," it said. It was obviously ethereal. Its voice gave it away. Caractor opened his dead eyes, and saw a Dusk Elder hovering in front of him, a few meters away from him. He grabbed his sword and rose up. He pointed his sword at the Dusk Elder.

"What do you want, Dusk Elder? Why do you disturb me?"

"... It is not what I want, Sire. It is what is happening in this land. Some beings are disturbing the silence."

"And what does this have to do with us?"

"Nothing. But we came to the conclusion that sending something to the aid of our 'friends' here would be the best course of action. The enemy is ethereal. The ones moving to remedy this ailment seem to call themselves... 'Orcs'. It is apparent that we could help these... Orcs, in this situation. We are not completely sure if these beings have the ability to fight such astral projections."

He lowered his sword.

"Hmph. This could ease the way for our joining of this alliance. It is just that these fights on 'friendly' soil are never... They would never let us take their corpses. Hmmm... Maybe we could send in something to help them. We have the loyalty of some Ether clans, have we not? Send one of those, but only after you have made sure that these 'orcs' want our help. No need squandering our forces where they are not wanted."

"Very well, Sire. That is what we shall do."

The Dusk Elder returned to the laboratory where it and its brethren did their research on magic and casted their spells. It told the others what they were to do. To do what the Arch Censor had told them to do, they chose to send in one of the living Dusk Elders to meet with these "High Orcs". A few of them within the colony were of such kind. One called Raitor was the one chosen for this... Mission.

It was good that they had observed the Ardan nations for as long as they had stayed in there. Had they not done that, finding those high orcs that actually mattered would have been practically impossible with such short notice. After a few fleeting moments, Raitor disappeared in a blindingly white flash of light, something that had not been seen in the colony, ever, showing the room as it is for the first time it has been in existence. He was moving through the Astral planes to a place where the leaders of these orcs supposedly were. He would be at his destination soon enough.

OOC Ahh yes I realised after I made the post what I had done wrong, but it was too inexplicarly written in to edit out. The actions taken however where pretty much what had been intended from the start so... Meh For the mistake made assume the Council saw a vision of the Future. (There is a reason they are called Farseers you see). As for the Warlocks heh, at the moment all I can say is they are more Mental/Spiritual projections of Force rather than Phyiscal beings. a IC post is coming but if you have any other questions feel free to TG me, and we can hash these things out. Actually send me a TG anyway as I want to make ure we are on the same page here before continuing.

Actually one thing I should make clear is why Warlocks are called Warlocks, Warlocks in my race is a title given to a Seer who has previously been an Aspect Warrior. They serve as Bodygaurds and Captains to the Farseers. Farseers are Seers who are stuck on the Path of the seer all they live for is being a seer. I am not sure this affects your view on their response to the Warlocks but it may.

(Ermor: Check the First Draft of the Orc Lands I made in Psycholgy Lecture on Friday in the Arda Civil HQ Boards on the NS Page (A complete RP Write-out of National Description, as well as (re)introduction of main characters as well as future hints of possible storylines found: http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=351284). The Orcs habit the very geographical center of the region. However, most of it is kept quite hidden (through atmospheric blocking and electronic frequency transmission filtering, making orbital reconnaissance near impossible).

Tor Yvresse: The Elementals are contacting them anyway.)

(OOC: But Ermor doesn't even use satellites and such for its intelligence gathering. Astral windows and projections aren't orbital recoinnaissance. Just like Black Servants, shadows and shades are not. They'd be just rather hard to detect, since who would expect the shadows to be alive? Don't think many would. Hmm... I don't think Ermor has even a single satellite in Earth orbit.)

The Warlocks shrugged as they noticed that currently little they did had no effect as one they turned back to the Bridge and stood before it, waiting for the signs of real resitence to materialise. Having said that the group gave a single answer to the Elementals.

We are Keigh, We are Kionash. To the entity they had formed that was enough of an answer. Still the Bridge grew, although slowly it neared the heart of the rain and storms the Orcs and the Elementals had started and a grin of pure delight spread across the forms of the Warlocks, they had gone far enough perhaps. Ideally they would have struck at the heart of Arda but perhaps that would be too far, here enough disturbance had been caused to take advantage, the Kionash would seize what the Orcs had started, and twist it beyond their wildest nightmares...

Now Iyaana's body Slumped as did the body of the remaining Farseer, and their minds entered the Bridge appearing as the others on the other side. As one they turned to the Bridge and nodded.

The Form is fixed, the joining shall grow no further. These places are now linked mystically till we are through As they 'fixed' The bridge it's form altered where before it had been visible only to those of a Mystical nature now it was visible to all, a ever shifting melody of colour. A Nightmarish sight it pulled at the eyes, as through only partly a thing of this world, as if it where a window into some other realm, a Realm kept back by the thinest of barriers and a realm of nightmares.

Then they turned once more outwards and began the next stage...
Here we shall pool the energies we have gathered, as the ancient scroll described. In Eldarnesh's memory, in Ishar's Care, In Asuryan's Wisdom and in Khaine's Rage. We place upon this point a pool, a resevour of the Immaterium.

As the entities spoke a small bubble formed for now it was almost invisible in it's size but every second the energies grew within it and as it did so the Bubble....

OOC: Hey, I refound the thread! I'll post later....I hope.

OOC: Not only is the video card in my computer dying, but I need to replace the northbridge cooler/fan combo thingy ASAP. :/

My computer hates me. Might be a little while before I can get it running properly again.

OOC: 2/3rds done with thread, combining Velin's Story, Dorin's Story, and Dorcla's Story into one big thread (since you just *had* to come in).

THree storylines in one single post...guh...

As time passed the Bubble grew slowly at first but now it was a visible entity in the air, holding contained within it the Warp energies that would eventually be unleashed. A Crackling bubble of power suppressing the release of the energy and allowing it to build up, already the simple energies contained within had gone passed that usually needed for the simpler version of what they had planned, this was meant to be so much more, in many ways a statement, and of course it would be the ultimate distraction...

Indeed the Farseers had found the first of the hidden places a Dark Cave that had been missed by the many inhabitents of Arda, it was hidden behind decades of growth now but that did not bar the Astral forms of the Seers as they slipped within and began the first of the Webgate creation rituals, soon it was open a celestrial passage between the stars themselves, a small doorway. It would allow nothing larger than two men Exodites ridding side by side to pass through at any one moment, a small crack in space, the first of the many they would open.... Then they Sealed the gate, there are Four states in Web Gates.

The First Open, as a door leading into the shifting maze like tunnels of the Webway, any could pass through such a door.

The Second Closed, shutting the door, if one knew where to find the handle it could be opened but it would bar accidental entrance. As a side note it is importent to note the Yvressi have taught both these secrets how to Open and how to close a Gate to the Menelmacari.

The Third Was sealed, the door was locked, and one would need to either know what the Key was, and where the Lock was hidden, or to force it open, such would require much time and energy. This alone they kept to themselves, how to unseal a gate and how to seal... perhaps the most importent power to hold to themselves, since it retained control of ultimate access in the hands of the Keigh.

The Last was shut down, closed, the door was destroyed. No way exists to open such as the doorway is gone as through it had never existed.

This Door was Sealed, as would the others they would create be, as the Seers had no desire to open a backdoor to Yvresse, at least not one that was too easily breached after all.

And still the Bubble of energy grew and the Warlocks stood guard for the calm before the storm could not last, soon the Mages and mystics of Arda would strike back.

((OOC My access is jumpy so I posted this while I could.))

OOC I am curious if this thread is still occuring... Bah I need IRC back... ah well at least I'll have it for a while at the weekend.

OOC I am curious if this thread is still occuring... Bah I need IRC back... ah well at least I'll have it for a while at the weekend.

OOC: Yeah, it just took Blizzard to shut down the World of WarCraft Open Beta Servers to finally write this six-page post I had fleshed out. It's a doozy because I am now forced to combine three storylines.

IC:

Velin and Nibur ate in a mess hall that could easily sit four thousand. It was two-thirds full, and featured a buffet-style way of self-serve. All sorts of meat was available, from pig, cow, and chicken, to dorn, Angband-troll, and wolf, with large varieties of seafood and rarities, cooked and uncooked. Orcs are omnivorous creatures, and huge trays of vegetables, steamed or freshly-plucked, were brought in regularly from the High Step fields up top. Eating utensils were largely ignored.

Both orcs sat down privately; Velin with two chicken breasts, three pork chops, two cobs of corn, and a half-gallon serving of full milk, Nibur had a hearty bowl of beans, and two legs of wolf, with cider to drink.

"A health nut eh?" Velin said, grinning. It was becoming more clear to exactly what Nibur was.

Nibur Ost smiled and laughed. "Gotta keep it pure. The body that is. It helps with thepurification of the mind. When mind and body combine as one without taint, training can begin." Nibur picked at his raw, uncooked wolf meat. The blood was literally filling the bottom of the tray.

"Training for what?" Velin asked before taking a mouthful of hog flesh into his jowls.

"The Raging Bear suffers from the curse of Xerxes. As such, it is orphaned and honor has abandoned the thirteenth child." Nibur explained, then scooped a handful of bears into his palm. "Not even Teel, our headmaster, appreciates us. Xerxes' taint has labeled us useless cowards." He shoved his hand into his mouth, gnawing on the beans, shoveling them into his feed hole. When the bowls' contents had reached to low to spoon it out, Nibur lifted the bowl and tipped it over to his open mouth. After finishing, he placed it down. "So, the Warchiefs of the the Raging bear decided to have an elite niche, like all the other clans; we invented the first High Orcish Monkhood."

"A monkhood you say..." said Velin, half interested, and half full of corn cob and all, and drowned it down his gullet with gulps from his flask.

"The Raging Bear has always been centraled around the single core belief on our Doctrine, that Might Makes Right. In Clan law, Might is determined through raw physical strength. Unlike the Blue Hairs, where might comes from the Skell, or the Flaming Skill, where Might is derived from the untapped power of the blade, the Might of the Raging Bear needs no weapon."

Velin coughed and chortled, "Trying to separate the Orc from his Axe Ost? You Ursites are going insane without a chieftain!" He was kidding, of course, but raised a valid point. Orcs had, habitually, enjoyed the biggest and heaviest weapons availiable to them to cause the most destruction.

"It certainly does seem that way," Nibur chuckled. "This, however, has been unanimously decided that the venture would indeed be something worthwhile to investigate. Our kind has long looked for ways to better distance ourselves from our kin and our racial brethren. We find that the creation and refinement of our own martial, unarmed technique would both allow praise to Orcs for their accomplishments and plant a see that could grow into a Tree of Might."

Velin swallowed and snapped a Hog's bone in twine with his teeth, sucking out the marrow. "This is well thought-out Nibur. I commend the efforts of the Raging Bear. Whom is spearheading the project? The humans have constructed more than a hundred variants of Atemi manuevers, body hardening exercises, and pain resistances. They are emboldening themselves into Orcs. Will these exercises toughen the Orc to an Ogre's standards?"

Nibur paused for a moment, really looking like he was thinking over everything Velin brought to the table. The monk drank his cider, modestly, before saying, "The Orc in charge of research and development of the techniques in teachings would be myself, Sir Velin. We've taken into all accounts the human methods, and some are adaptible, but we are not humans. Our physiologies are different. Methods that a human undertakes would have to be five times tougher to be of any effectiveness to an Orc, especially one of the Raging Bear."

Velin learned back, his stomach full. Who would have figured that Ost was so important? Then again, Nibur probably didn't know about his cartographic backgrounds, or the facts detailing Velin's self-made quest of purpose. "So you're the first eh? Quite impressive Nibur. How far have you progressed in your studies of the manner of the philosophies that address the core of the meaning of the fight?"

Nibur stroked back his orange tresses, "We have several concepts in what we are looking for in terms of exercises and emphasis in training. It will still take a few seasonal quartets to harden these concepts and fluidly master the training, but it very well could be moot if the campaign is not officially approved."

"Approved?" Velin asked.

"Yes, well, you see, the curse of Xerxes has left my clan without clan law. As spoken in the Doctrine, all clan law is to be spoken by the Chieftain. Without a Chieftain, the Raging Bear defaults to general leadership, which us the EnheilRas. Our laws are the High Fist's laws, and though our former Knight Ikorum oversees our affairs, it is Manus Trebelium whom is our executor," Nibur explained.

"Kind of a legislative nightmare you have there Brother Ost," Velin commented. "What do you believe must be done to break your clan's curse? It's been near a decade, so you Ursites must be looking into the annals of Doctrine, right? There must be some way to regain your honor and restore the Raging Bear!"

Nibur nodded, contemplating the response long and hard. "Xerxes had failed us when he disobeyed the Doctrine, and it has left a stigma of cowardice among the Raging Bear. As is foretold, cowardice is a weakness, so it is but sweet irony that a clan based on strength is considered weak. My companions and I have looked hard into our laws, and we can only find that perseverence can lead us to proving ourselves once more on the battlefield. However, since that is every clan's goal, our reward shall remain undisclosed until my brethren display nothing else but exemplary prowess and skill, surpassing that of the Skull but one time."

"You mean to outdo the Soulpyre and his Blade Magi? Indeed a feat like none before! You certainly have your goals set high," Velin commented.

"They need to be," Nibur quickly retorted. "The curse of Xerxes is strong. The Raging Bear foiled its people and our kind was nearly wiped out because of it. I do not pretend to not comprehend the Raging BEar's great Stigma. I am fully aware of the crime which every one of us carries aloft on our shoulder. We are looked down upon by the 12 other clans, and we feel ostrocized for our unknowing betreyal that most weren't even alive when it happened. I do not wish my brothers to be second class any longer. I will see the Bear's rise before I pass to Daka; I have promised this."

"It seems to me, Nibur, that we both have epic quests of true purpose ahead of us," Velin stated. "An our personal missions streamline to Orca to meet with the EnheilRas. We should stay together in a coterie of sorts, and combine our might or our combined ideals."

"What, pray tell, Sir Knight, is your purpose>: Nibur asked him, pondering Velin Melievel.

Velin sighed, and took a deep breath, then began his story.

"You can't see it, but it can see us. It is our mission that is one-way towards reality. It is mystical and of old powers, but it is not beyond me. Nay, nothing is beyond the Might of the Darkweaver," Dorin said as he walked down into the Orca Dark Circle Guildhouse. Belca Bristleback followed him, dressed in full battle gear, prepared for a war that Dorin had deemed him unworthy for Ardan defense. This was utmost heresy for Belca, and would have refused this order had it been from anyone else besides Dorin, Teel, or Manus. His title demanded that he be the first into combat, but it seemed that he would be denied his lineage on the very first engagement. Even worse, that exhuberent poncy Dorcla was getting it, and he was not able to join the Soulpyre's squads in reverie, precluding battle. He was angered, and felt punished for some unknown error.

"They doubt us Belca," Dorin exclaimed. "They want to prove that they can push us around, that we have no defense. They bypassed our allies' forces of deterrence, yes, but I have never had faith in those cold machines. I do not take lightly to those who would spit on me just because they could. They want to prove something, but so do I."

THey reached the basement of the guildhouse, which held the Great Mystic Library. It was here that books on history, laws, and prophecy were kept, as well as all tomes on incantation, ritual, and the prarnormal and supernatural. It covered nearly 10,000 square feet, and was deathly quiet, even with dozens of initiates and lesser orc aids shuffling and lefing for notes for hundreds of untold rituals and magical projects. Dorin led Belca through the library into a deep end. The shelves caused the room to be a maze, and hanging chandaliers with magical devices only seemed to dim the further you dwelled within the labyrinth.

Dorin got quiet as he walked through the maze, and all the initiates bowed and promptly removed themselves from his path. Some of them gave odd looks at Belca, as few had been witness to an orc ready for battle within their quiet bookhouse. Dorin reached a large chamber door, ornately designed, and embedded into the wall without any hinge or handle to open it. To anyone else, it was just a mosaic carving into the end of the library. Dorin held out his hand, but an inch from the doorway, and closed his eyes. An eerie blue energy manifested itself from his palm and seeped into the pores of the wood. As the mystical energy became the bloodstream of the door, so was it animated by it. Dorin placed his hand back down and opened his eyes as the portion of the wall moved towards them and turned away, leaving a hole with all but perpetual darkness. Dorin only glanced as Belca with a knowing grin and entered, Belca beckoned forthwith, and the wall returned to its original place afterward, sealing into place seamlessly.

"They think that they can outsmart us, outdo us. They want to test us, and be tested. They are tired of cold wars. They want to bask in the flames of combat, to be soothed and comforted in their bloodlust." Dorin laughed while saying, "and to think the world appreciates them, established them in high regard, and thinks them good! They are barbarians that ride on machines of war, preaching peace to their neighbors to front their need for slaughter. They care for nothing but their own safety, and I shan't give them that!"

The circular staircase lead down into unknown depths and was constructed of stone brick. As Belca stepped down, he noticed how things were changing. It had started out in pitch black, but was starting to take on a blue light. Things began to illuminate. Something important was down there.

"You see Belca," Dorin explained. "They can bypass the deterrence because they know how to. They have demonstrated more than basic knowledge in the mannerisms of the arcane. However, they do not know to which the depths of that same metascience we have obtained. They use it as a shield and a trap. I've read of allied forces being decimated within their tunnels, frankly because they were without their means of knowing how to handle the situation. They lost their might Pointblade, and were rightfully destroyed by their foe. I shan't have that happen here, and I will prevent my people from feigning Might. I will preserve Chuma Tuncha, and you will help me."

"But why me, Darkweaver?" Belca asked.

"Simple Bristleback. I know your secret," Dorin said as they landed in the cavern at the bottom of the staircase. It had been carved from hand, most likely by a personal favor by the tunnel crawlers whom cleared it out and fortified it nearly 375 feet under the surface. It was here that Belca was in sight of what lit the stairway. Under the earth, several Ley Lines have conjoined in the rock, and formed a 3-Point Nexus. It was just far enough below the ground to hide from all but the most attuned, and yet its powerful energies fueled the guildhouse unknowingly, advancing them at twice the pace normally. It was devilishly clever, and Dorin's Gate, as the Nexus was to be called, was a pivotal possession to the Dark Circle that they never knew they had. "Behold, Belca Bristleback, my Gateway."

Belca was offset as the two were approached by none other than the PunRas, Delgon Trebelium. The young High Fist looked once at Belca, acknowledgingly, and faced Dorin, "WHy did you bring Belca Dorin? Certainly he would rather cross blades with the Invaders! I do not believe he has the abilities to match the situation."

Dorin only smiled, "Oh, but he does! You see, you both have secrets. Delgon's is highly regarded and known only ot myself, Manus, Ignex, and Teel. Yours, however Belca, yours is something else entirely. You're smart Bristleback. You're very smart. In fact, you may be too smart. I'm amazed Trabian hasn't caught on, but he's out of touch. I know what you really are, and why it is you've never sustained a single wound in your four centuries of service."

Belca crossed his arms indignantly. Delgon seemed intrigued. "So are you holding my services at ransom? Do you threaten me Darkweaver? What is it you want?"

Dorin gripped his staff. "I desire nothing but your assistance for now Belca, but afterwards, I wish to discuss the rammifications and implications of your true power. I shan't give darling Delgon the pleasure of knowing it bluntly. But we'll see Pointblade, we'll see." He turned to the electrifying Nexus. "They are using the Astral Realm to guide their war trajectories. It's not the True Realm that psychics realize. Nor is it the same realm that mystics can venture to but for an instance through teleportation. It is not the same as the realm that forms the constructive barriers of our rifts, but it is so close to that realm that the laws are similiar. It is a fourth dimension like our astral realm, but is parallel to it. As such, we are the only ones with the power to project ourself into it, and sustain that projection indefinitely. The link that binds us is the Psychic."

It was indeed true. In the Billions of Orcs that has spawned, it was only these that had manifested that evolution. But evolution it was not, but for it was never meant for them to aspire that awareness. In History, it would always be referred to as an abnormality. Delgon, a powerful Mind Mage; Dorin, the Darkweaver and Lord of Orcish Magic; Belca, the Mightiest Orc in the Clans that possibly never was, were the holders of the psychic aberration. Yet, for the true that Dorin's knowledge was, it would be the only trait that would not only allow themselves to project their aura's into the Yvressian Realm, but retain a powerful control over their reality. With Dorin's vast intellect, Delgon's hidden powers, and Belca's incredibly prowess, the three would be nigh unstoppable.

"They think they're safe in their pocket dimension; that no one can harm them inside what they created. I know the price of Fighting Lopnel in Daka. To combat a Orc, one must be a God," Dorin said, and tilted his staff to his left hand. "They have come to show the world a fault in our security. I will do the same."

Belca peered over at Delgon, half-assured the Darkweaver had gone near insane with his own power. Delgon seemed overly enamored with Dorin's mad lust, and Belca considered the PunRas a dodding fool that would beckon to Dorin more than the EnheilRas. Delgon's loyalties were misplaced, indeed. As much as Belca detested the crazed Darkweaver, he had little choice in the matter but to cooperate or possibly face a court martial and never leave that cave. Belca knew that Dorin had the political power to be able to hide it. For as popular as Belca was, as big of a war hero he obtained, he was always a lesser Orc. He'd already attained his footnote in history, and he was assured that Dorin would be all too pleased to build his shrine and write his epitaph.

"When will it be ready?" Delgon asked the Darkweaver.

"You'll know, PunRas. You will know," Dorin said, and approached the Nexus, standing in it, and began to absorb the life energies of the Ardan ley lines.

As soon as the Rift anchored itself upon the Ardan shore, the Yvressians could hear it. It was the sound of Snare drums. They boomed throughout the valleys and the forests, and the trees could not soak up the volume of a thousand snares beating in thundrous unity. They were struck harshly in militaristic fashion, in a slow beating with quick rolling along the treated dornskin that covered the drum barrels. They beat low, and the sound of the High Orcish cavalry, first to the scene, was unambiguous. It was a prelude to the obvious, and it was the first time that the High Orcs would arrive to defend themselves.

The lines met along Ardan soil, in ranks of a hundred. They stood perfectly, mounted high on their Dorns. Each one was covered in Orcish Splint, wearing Orcish shields and Orcish lances.Every 25th Knight carried a Banner of the Dorn Rider's Clan, a navy blue flag with a red outline of a Dorn's Skull, facing to the outside of the flag. They were silent, and said not a word on their witness of the void. They showed discipline and fearlessness, and their hardened morale was bolstered by the High Orcish lieutinants and generals. Their grand leader, Tarsonis Dorcla, fondly called Chief 'Dornclaw' strode ranks, wearing a regally designed and ostentatiously colored armor set as the grunt cavalry, as all Orcs were equal, and none were left behind in equipment and degrees of protection, and wore aspartan-design helmet. Tarsonis gazed in every eye as he rode ranks, emboldening their steadfastness. His black Dorn carried him back to the center, where his three generals accompanied him.

"Hail Warchief," Vrog Dokmogue saluted.
"Hail Warchief," Hirgan Jinto saluted.
"Hail Warchief," Thockdûl Listrum saluted.

"Hail gentlemen," Tarsonis greeted. The rain was getting noticibly heavier, and the 'tinks' from the large raindrops bouncing off their armor and drums, creating a sort of music in itself. Tarsonis glanced at the Vortex and questioned his generals, "DO you think the infidels know the rules of war?"

"We have no idea of their culture, Warchief," General Listrum noted.

"So it's a gamble?"

"Indeed, Warchief," General Listrum answered.

"Good," Tarsonis said. "Hand me my banner."

A 12 foot pole carrying an 8x4 foot flag was tossed by General Jinto to Dorcla, whom snapped it into placed on his saddle. Tarsonis checked his straps on his Skells and turned to his three generals. "Ready for the meet and greet?"

The rules for combat were simple. Once a battlefield had been chosen, and armies lined up, leaders would be meeting in parlay for formal discussion. It was civilized, and a method of successful warfare for hundreds of years. It allowed both forces to negotiate for peace, offer homage, and direct to finding peace and avoid the bloodbath. This was something normal orcs would have nothing to do with, and lobby into a big mob and throw themselves en masse at their opponents. No, with the High Orcs in charge, things were different. There was freedom, with limits; there was life, with honor; there was strength, with might; there was culture, with laws. As such, the rules of war were disciplined into the High Orc officiers, and even if their soldiers were ignorant of the proceedings, they were never questioned and followed to the letter. It showed their dedication to the Art of War, enabling them to masterfully paint a canvass of conquest.

Tarsonis snapped his heels on the ribcage of the Dorn, and it trotted towards the void with his three generals behind him.

"Drums set! March off!" ordered Thackdûl. The large hard mallets began rolling snare beats while the soft ones hit reverberating bass drums to sequence the entrance into parlay. The sound was fast and tribal (reminiscent of Information Society's "Ozar Midrashim") while the cavalry musicians beat them with a symphonic ferocity.

Meanwhile, in the back ranks, the 120 members of the Dark Circle met with the 50 Warlocks to discuss their plans. 4 Major Elementals, still in their natural energy form, met with them. They were the only major ones present, with 4 Minor Air, 1 Minor Water, 2 Minor Earth, and 3 Minor Fire that kept circulating around the void, continuously posing curious questions, oblivious of the event to come.

It was an hour away until the five Squads from the Flaming Skull would arrive, a force that could have probably repelled the vicious invaders by themselves if assisted and led by the Warchief, aptly named the Soulpyre.

(Satisfied?)

A black gloved hand gripped the edge of a colossal throne of black iron, the armrest moulded and forged into the shape of a great drake, rearing up, its jaws wide, teeth shining white ivory. Others formed the back of the throne, rearing up In different directions all from a single point, as in a hydra with many heads. The scaled leather-like metal of the glove flexed impatiently once again.

“Time grows short.” A deep, perhaps menacing voice, shades of malevolence and confidence evenly distributed throughout it said, to assembled figures, hazy and insubstantial, gathered around the throne room. The glove pointed at the hovering planet earth, circled by endless gleaming slivers of light representing the many millions of ships that orbited the planet at any one time. “We must be ready. The attack must begin soon.”

“I agree,” said one of the figures, to the enthroned figure of darkness, voice not so much carrying as being known to all present anyway, “all indications we can get from Arda say that the Yvressi are doing their part…”

The enthroned figure frowned slightly, gloved hand grasping the throne’s edge once more, fingers sinking a little way into the iron, “Yes,” he replied, “hate though I do to rely upon the keigh, flighty and ineffectual as they are wont to be, confess I must that the Emperor’s predictions on this matter do seem to be correct. They will play their part in our plan.”

“What?” asked the other, “of the danger they place themselves in?”

“It is of no consequence,” the enthroned figure said, rising from his black throne, robes and cloaks billowing with his movement, “their lives are unimportant to us.”

“Perhaps, Lord,” replied the counselling figure, of the fleet flagship’s avatar, “perhaps. But they do mean something. If they are destroyed or made captive, and we do nothing, relations would suffer. Trifling though their lives may be to you, their politics are not trifling to the Empire.”

The cold void of the ship’s great audience deck would have frozen a mans blood in a second, and the slightest movement would have sent him up and away into space without the gravity of the ship’s interior, but Asirnoth, the Void-Dragon, Ancient Enemy of the Eldar and Greatest of the Yngir, was impervious to such things. He strode across the deck, looking out toward distant earth, now no longer a mere speck in the distance, but growing, with his godlike senses, clearly visible. He turned, and sent to the insubstantial avatar of the command ship, “You are right. It is so. Prepare your forces for a ground assault should it become necessary,” the figure bowed in obeisance, and began executing the C’tan’s commands almost instantly. The Warmaster continued, “Now, report on the condition of the Hives…”

It was an oddity of foresight that both the Yvressi Seers and the Emperor had come to something of an agreement and a plan without once communicating to one another on the matter. To count on such things alone was unwise, but here, both sides knew that though they themselves could perhaps achieve their goals, together, the realisation of those goals would be greatly eased. Unaware of the orcs already drawing near, nor of the parley that would perhaps be attended by the Yvressi, the plans of the Dragon proceeded apace.

((Definatly... very cool, makes me almost wish my plans where Different to what they are... still... Oh they will meet.))

IC

The Gestalt entity noticed the arrival of the Orcs with a curious glance, Parlay, the Orcs sought to Parlay, truely these where not Krorks, or the Orcs of Arda they where, more used to, they had heard rumours of the Ardan Sub-Race but never had they seen.

In response to the Flags of Truce Five of the seperate spirits sped towards the Orcs, and landed facing them. In fact a truce served their purpose as the Second Gate was opened, again they hid it deep, and kept the Gate small, no invasion was ever planned to come through these gates after all.

Mon-Keigh, you seek to speak to me/us. To prevent the sating of Khailia-Mensha's Thirst, before He has even awakened, before the sacriface of the Young King. So be it, we shall listen to your words, know through that what has been begun cannot be ended, only halted and released early. The five spoke as one the words leaving the spirital forms as one.

The entities hovered a mere centimetre from the floor before the Dorns and the Three Generals. As they spoke images formed in the surface thoughts of the Generals these beings where more thought than physical, and their thoughts where transmited as they spoke. When they said the Word Mon-Keigh images of distaste, disgust and disdain, a world burning and the Keigh watching and turning away with a shrug of at best indifferance at worst maybe satisfaction.

Khailia-Mensha formed a the image of a Giant figure whose veins pulsed with Molten metal floating the skin was more slightly cooled and hardened flakes of metal than actual skin, in one Hand it bore a sword easily the size of the Generals, the other hand dripped blood. The image of the Young king seemed tied to the image of Khailia-Mensha, but it also carried a sense of loss, Death would not describe it fully, ending, of something becoming Nothing.

Terms we set are these, your people withdraw from this area to a days travel away and they will be spared the touch of what we plan. Should they stay we fight, and the Bloody-Handed one will stir from his slumber and wonder if it is time to awaken once more. You have never dealt with Keigh. We are not the Quendi, we are not the Elves, We are not, Weak. We are a Warrior Race. We are Keigh.

The main images here apart from the repeat of the Khailia-Mensha image from before when they spoke of the Bloody-Handed one, was with Keigh, of strength, of a race that has known Bloodshed and death for most of it's existence, that with Spears and sword went to war with machines, and met death and in some cases the same sense of something becoming Nothing. Also through is carried a feeling of great pain, and loss, of the very act of existence being a fight, and death not being a release from the struggle, but perhaps the most dangerous time of all. It also carries the feeling of an eternal War, one they hold only the slimest hope of victory in, but one they fight anyway.

Elves, Quendi, do not carry as much of a stigma as Mon-Keigh, but it is clear the Keigh hold themselves superior to them. (Keigh means literally 'The People' Mon-Keigh 'Not-People')


((PS It's been awhile since I started this, so I think it's time to explain roughly what the Farseers and Warlocks have done here. Basically it's an adaption of a few Spells, some old and not in the latest editions and some stuff I have added. (Either due to Galdern's Research or from the Black Libary.) The Spells adapted, are Eldritch Storm and a old version of Mind War which allowed a form of Astral projection into close combat with a person. The additions I have made is the Bridge of course extending the range of the Astral projection. The single entitity which is for Co-ordination of the various elements and to allow the Astral Projections more options in what they can do. And lastly the Bubble they are currently creating which is basically containing the Eldritich Storm till it is popped. The Warlocks lie a little when they say they cannot reverse what they have started. It can be... but it is bleeding hard. (Nothing is impossible when it comes to magic.) Or should I say, you can, they can't the distance they are away in reality and the various different things they are doing do create some limitions on them. Last of all they are opening Web Gates, this really was a last minute addition, mostly because the numerous reasons I entered this thread sort of dropped away due to OOC events, and I needed a reason to have done all this in the first place. (Kind of hard to want to teach you mon-Keigh not to use the Web when your Web access guy left NS.) Besides when I first started up Tor Yvresse their was one thing I always wanted to do, but couldn't then the Web Rules changed... This might allow me to do it, call it pride.))

Edits and additions planned mostly just description really and mostly as I felt High Orcs needed a bit of background..

Mon-Keigh, you seek to speak to me/us. To prevent the sating of Khailia-Mensha's Thirst, before He has even awakened, before the sacriface of the Young King. So be it, we shall listen to your words, know through that what has been begun cannot be ended, only halted and released early. The five spoke as one the words leaving the spirital forms as one.

Terms we set are these, your people withdraw from this area to a days travel away and they will be spared the touch of what we plan. Should they stay we fight, and the Bloody-Handed one will stir from his slumber and wonder if it is time to awaken once more. You have never dealt with Keigh. We are not the Quendi, we are not the Elves, We are not, Weak. We are a Warrior Race. We are Keigh.

"So they want us to leave our home?" General Jinto asked.

"Yes, while they mess with the hinges of our front door," General Dakmogue answered.

Tarsonis Dorcla rubbed his furred chin, "Your terms are unacceptible. This is the land of the Orcs. You are guests uninvited with banners of fighting. You shan't dictate on land that is not yours to call home. We shan't retreat from our grounds. Our race is not one of cowards. We are the ones with Might. We are not ruled, we rule. We do not even bow before the one called Melkor."

Chief Dornclaw grinned, and leaned on the skull of his mount, "Allow me to give you our demands, as I have brought a few thousand from Delta, and the Flaming Skull have been invited and should bring further reinforcements. You are at a severe disadvantage to do anything here without our cooperation, which you should be striving to achieve. If you have some will to do with our land, you should inform us, less we destroy you outright for your rediculous invasion of territory."

"We do not care about your monkeys or your golems," Thockdûl Listrum commented. "We care about the safety of our peoples. I've not known of your kind, so if you have some kind of vendetta against us, then you best say it now, for if you don't, then you just show your blatant disregard for the freedom of sentient beings to live isolated in peace as you threaten us. We won't stand down to flagrant bullying.

"The Clans don't care about elves. They don't care about humans. They don't care about weird spirits of ancient prophecies, space, 30 Million years of some odd little race's history or how it used to be superior. Really, it doesn't really matter. We've done no wrong to anyone. We have lived, peacefully, without harming another soul. Yet you decide to come to us preaching war and wanting to defile our independence?"

Tarsonis raised up, "I am Tarsonis Dorcla, Chieftain of the Clan of Dorn Riders, one of the 12 Greatest Orcs in the Land, and I shan't beckon to the likes of fervent invaders whom want us to just ignore them. Do you recognize how rediculous this is? I certainly do.

"I know there can be some kind of understanding here that doesn't involve us completely wiping you out. If you believe this section of land to be so important, it wouldn't be that hard for us to make it a lava pit, or a coral reef. You can't fight Arda on Arda, because Arda fights for itself. Even the air that is breathed will lash out on people that would threaten it. Every drop of water falls in defiance of your actions. Even a God is at a disadvantage if the world fights him."

Vrog turned towards Hirgan, "You don't think these are the people that dropped the explosives on Naldaniss, do you?"

Hirgan rubbed his chin, "If they are, then there's not much use negotiating, is there?"

((OOC: I'd have a *lot* more fun with this thread if Riga were here. Oooh man..I almost turned Listrum into Riga there for a second. He's not very good at Parlay, because he mostly just insults people, laughs at them, and then makes a smart-assed comment and heads back to rally his Crusaders.

Also, when people call me High Orcs, it makes me believe that they don't know who I really am. Heh heh heh...))