NationStates Jolt Archive

A message is broadcast throughout Mists on almost every station. The signal, of course, could be picked up or replayed just about anywhere on or near the earth. Empress Aiwyn ni Gwydion appears on the screen, standing in shining sidhe plate, gleaming golden in the light. The background is the Imperial Throne room, with her throne standing well behind her.She stands straight and rigid, her blade hanging bare at her side. Her redhair is tucked behind her finely tapered ears, outlining the delicate lines of her face. "Citizens of the Empire, as many of you know, the situation in the dreaming grows more and more dire. We believe that we are going to have to send our brave soldiers into harms way, something we do with the utmost seriousness. Our freedom, our way of life, is under attack. The regime of Aoibhell desires only one thing, power. We cannot allow it to extend it's tyranny over our lands."

"May of our allies have joined us in this struggle. Our deepest thanks go out to Weyr and to Akaton, who have given for our safety at great risk to themselves. We extend to them, as we do to all nations, our hands in peace and in friendship."

Aiwyn looks off, her expression growing more somber yet. "It is likely that those who hate our way of life will attempt to strike out in the Waking World as well. Here, they have little hope of a clear military victory. This is why out analysts believe that these cowards intend to resort to terrorism. We have heightened security in all parts of the empire to take account of this threat. However, all the police in the world cannot replace a vigilant citizenry. We ask you to be alert to anything suspicious, any possible danger to yourselves and your fellow citizens."

Her eyes grow sad as she returns her gaze forward. "Unfortunately, the hatred of our enemies encompasses bigotry and racial prejudice on a deep scale. We have read more than one intelligence report suggesting that Aoibhell's regime preaches a fanatical race hatred against the non-fae races. Those elves and vampires, many from our friends, my husband's people, the Akatoni, who have come to our shores in peace and frienship, have been frequently threatened in her propaganda. While we intend give high priority to preventing such hate crimes from occuring, we must call upon all of our citizens to help guard our immigrant and minority peoples. We will show that doctrine which seeks to divide us that we are all one people, regardless of race or country of origin."

"As for myself. I shall be joining our forces in the dreaming. I do not send others to take risks which I will not take myself. You can all rest assured that I am personally leading our armies in defending the freedoms of our people." Aiwyn pauses, lowering her eyes. "You know, there are not many who can claim an Emperess for a servant." Aiwyn lowers herself to one knee, assuming the position of former homage. "But I am eternally the subject of my people. It is what it is to hold power in our most sacred traditions." The image fades from the screen.

Ferranifer had stopped packing as the message was being broadcast and looked on with an impassive face. She showed no outward sign of distress, but inside she realized that with the possiblity of a vampire versus human war already brewing that this would be most difficult. In fact she wondered if those in resurgent dream were even aware of the situation that Lauralin was looking into. She made up her mind and summoned one of the servants of the Kings castle. She hoped that she would see Serenia before she left, but now she hoped that Serenia was safe somewhere.

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

St. James immediatly rang the bell, even before the announcement was done. He might not be much of a diplomat but he had led the forces of Highport for centuries and written the book on the art of war. Combat was something he knew and he at last saw something that he could do that might actually be able to help get stronger the relationship between Resurgent Dream and his home.

The servant arrives, bowing deeply to Ferranifer. "My lady, how might I assist you?"

Mischief, of course, is afoot while Ferranifer speaks to the servant. Her keen vampire senses likely detect the pushing asidhe of a grate and the sound of tiny clawed paws pitter pattering across the floor and crawling up to where she's packing.
~
Emily Beck appears on the screen, sitting at a typical anchorwoman's desk with a very somber expression. "People of Mists and the world, tragedy struck today at the Elven Community Center in downtown Almalie, Wintermore. A community after school program for elven children was destroyed in a bombing most likely orchestrated by extremists loyal to Aoibhell. The local constabulry arrived on the scene swiftly, but were unable to find the bomber. Circumstantial evidence does indicate a goblin male, age thirteen to twenty-five. The Imperial Security Service offers a generous reward for any information leading to the apprehension of this terrorist. Our hearts go our to the elven community of Almalie and we join them in mourning the precious children they lost today."

Ferranifer smiles at the servant, "I would like transport to see the Empress Aiwyn ni Gwydion. I thought I would drop by as I was here and done with the King. My Queen recently had the chance to visit but had to leave abruptly. Could you arrange that for me?

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

St. James awaits a servant to arrange his own transport as he puts on his armor and his slim elven blade.

The servant frowns. "I can try, m'lady. I don't know if Her Imperial Majesty is in the field yet or not. If she is already at the war, I doubt it would be possible. I'll see what I can do. Please wait here." With another bow, he heads swiftly off.

The little wombat has her head poking out of the luggage, staring blankly at the television. Whatever mischief was afoot is forgotten in the words of Emily Beck. Children?! The barbarian targetted children?!

((OOC: St. James, unless I'm mistaken, should be at your embassy, where you play the servants.))

Ferranifer didn't turn around as she spoke, "If the servant can't get me transport, can you arrange for me to get to the Empress?" She then turned around, "I'm not unfamiliar with great struggle, I was one of only three of the most powerful mage survivors of the mage wars in my region."

(OOC - The Embassy was just finished, he was getting ready to move his things over when the message came. He's still at the palace.)

The servant pauses. "Maybe." And at that he does head off, whether more is said or not.

The wombat tilts its head, studying Ferranifer. She doesn't say anything. Of course, she can't exactly. She is in wombat form.

A servant arrives at St. James's door, bowing. "My lord, how might I serve you?"

Ferranifer just waits, pacing impatiently.

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

St. James turns to the servant. "As a duly appointed Ambassador to this court, representing both the kingdom of Highport and the Queendom of Dragonsreach I request a meeting with the Empress Aiwyn Ni Gwydion."

The news cameras zoomed in for a close-up of Emperor Phaeton Draconis' face, focusing upon the unwavering stare of icy blue eyes.

"I do hereby and forever condemn this act of terrorism against our closest ally. Striking the helpless and hiding from justice are not the actions of a strong foe, but those of a coward without the courage to fight a true battle. We will not, must not, submit to being victimized by this small group of radicals. These terrorists are murderers, not freedom fighters. To those who would kill in the name of hate, be warned that your actions will not go unpunished."

The cameras clicked off, Draconis turned and stalked off into the halls of his palace. It was the eve of Akaton's greatest military campaign in almost a century, the civil war in his wife's Empire was already in its early stages. Now, as Draconis was facing opposition from his second in command, the vampiric Count Yuri, a terrorist attack was the last thing he needed.

The wombat looks up, waiting for Ferranifer to pay her some notice. She wrinkles her little black nose, making a small mewing noise.

The servant returns momentarily. "Her Imperial Majesty will see you en route. Be ready to leave in five minutes." At that, he walks away to make some last minute preparations.

The servant shakes his head to St. James. "Empress Aiwyn is en route from her palace in Akaton. High Queen Agwene is in Devras. I can get you the Prime Minister."

Ferranifer was ready, having packed to leave. She sat on the bed and placed her hand on the wombat's head. "Why should I care, Hmm? I used to kill for no reason but for the pleasure of hearing pleas of mercy and now I go to this Empress to offer assistance in a war that has nothing to do with me or my Queen's people. What has happened to the hard hearted Mistress of the school of Necromancy. The Dark Mistress who's title once struck fear into the hearts of any who heard it even whispered. Am I a better person? Or have I become weak and decadent?" Her words spoken softly as though thinking out loud, even as she gently ran her hand over the wombat's head in a petting motion.

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

"Do what you can, lad. I would like to join the Empress in the field", St. James told the servant, "even if I have to meet her on front line."

Serenia nestles into the vampires hand, crawling into Ferranifer's lap. She sits there, nuzzling, very much like any pet would. After a few moments, the servant returns. "If you'll follow me, m'lady."

Striding through the halls, the servant leads her out to a strange contraption with a nocker sitting in it. The contraption looks like a giant wooden gryffon filled with pulleys and gears. In addition to where the nocker sits, there is one passenger seat and a small compartment for Ferranifer's things.

Once the vampire is inside the machine, the nocker begins to pedal. The device begins to move forward rapidly, the wooden wings flapping. After a few moments, they're airborn. Soon, a great metal blimp comes into sight. Once the wooden device rises up to the blimp, the pilot grabs some latches and connects the machine to the zepplin. A compartment in the metallic zeppelin opens. "Well, get the furk in there. I need to get out of this janct."

The servant nods to St. James. "Her Imperial Majesty will be entering the dreaming at a trod near Jafer, Shieldcrest. If you hurry, you might be able to catch her."

Ferranifer enters as she's told and looks around her, holding Serenia close to her. (OOC - Assuming Serenia came with her, if not then ignore that part and Ferranifer would have said goodbye to her.)

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

St. James nods, "Just point me the way lad."

The wallaby rides with her the whole way. The small, furry creature nuzzles into the vampire. When they arrive, Ferranifer finds herself in a small but nicely adorned sitting room. Aiwyn sits in a red lounge chair, legs crossed gracefully. "What can I do for you, madame?"

The servant nods. "Just take the road from Tarana due west for about twenty miles."

'Damn good question', Ferranifer thinks to herself. "Actually I was hoping I could do something for you, Empress", she says as she cradles Serenia against her and bows respectfully, though stiffly, obviously used to being bowed to and not bowing. "I'm the High Advisor to the Queen of Dragonsreach, recently finished with the debate about Sidhe lineage, and heard your announcement. In our region some years ..." she stops, thinking a moment, "centuries now actually, ago, I was one of the three most powerful mages to have survived the mage wars there. I came to offer my assistance in your present situation."

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

"Thanks lad", St. James says, "Could you see to it that my things are transferred to my new embassy? I would greatly appreciate it." Without waiting for an answer he heads to the stables to saddle his horse and rides hard, following the directions that the servant gave him.

Aiwyn nods a little. "I will gladly accept your help. I must, however, warn you that magic does not always work as intended in the dreaming." Aiwyn pauses, considering the woman before her. "Might I know your name, lady, and that of your friend?"

St. James sees no great troubles on the road, nothing to impair a speedy journey to the rath.

Ferranifer smiled down at Serenia, "This", she said in a genuinly pleased tone, "is Serenia. I met her at the conference I attended and have become rather attached to her." She looked up smiling, "I'm ..." she stopped, her smile turning into a frown. 'Do I tell her who I am? Would they know the name? Would she turn me away if she knows what I have been?' Ferranifer looks down uncertainly at Serenia as though seeking the answers to her unasked questions.

Serenia, for her part, is wriggling grumpily because Ferranifer forgot her title.

Aiwyn simply waits, folding her hands neatly on her knee. She smiles weakly at Ferranifer as the zepplin moves swiftly through the air high above Shieldcrest.

(OOC - I'm embarrassed to admit this but truth is truth. I don't remember Serenia's title and I can't find the Sidhe thread :( )

Ferranifer's face becomes an unreadable mask as she answers, awaiting the assaults that she's become used to over the centuries. "I'm Ferranifer Melbourne, High Advisor to the Queen of Dragonsreach." She left it there, if they hadn't heard of her then so much the better, no point in pulling up a past that she was trying to leave behind. Dark Mistress Ferranifer, Mistress of the school of the Dark Arts, the one responsible for most of the victories of the Black mages during the mage wars was something that she was trying to forget.

"It is strange to find that armed groups will more gladly strike at helpless citizens than go after government officials or military forces. The fact of the matter is that these so-called terrorists lack the organization and the will to inflict lasting damage upon their enemies," the official response from the Regent Victoria li'Paradigm has been released some two hours ago. Rumors of planned military involvement within the Empire of the Resurgent Dream remain unconfirmed, but independent analysts state that The Tower will most certainly get involved in any conflicts involving a thaumaturgic nation. Theories of drawing forces away from the wards at Southport and the Battlespire have caused a flurry of messages that almost shut down The Tower's public relations pipeline.

The Diplomatic Service has dispatched an additional two magi'i to the Weyrean embassy, citing growing security concerns. "The embassy open door policy will remain in full effect, however, and no overt security mesures wil lbe implemented," Josiah Willard Gibbs has stated in a rare press release. The Consul-General's public involvement implies otherwise.

This is WN3, reporting from the Resurgent Dream.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The Weyrean embassy was as lightly guarded as could be. There were the standard thaumaturgic wardings around the grounds, and two High Guard stood at the gates, but aside from that little protected the small structure and its handful of permanent occupants. The wrought mithril-steel gates were never closed, and over the years vines had anchored them to the ground. In recent years, the Diplomatic Service had even taken to hiring local citizens as permanent staff. The arrival of two magi'i in black armor and cloaks on a sunny afternoon was the first sign that something was wrong.

((OOC: Lady))

Aiwyn nods. "Welcome aboard, both of you. Serenia, perhaps you could change in the restroom?"

The little wombat nods its head, wriggling a little in Ferranifer's arms. It licks the vampire's hand once.

Aiwyn then turns back to Ferranifer. "Your spells will either be far more powerful than you intend, or utterly ineffectual, or normal. It will change from moment to moment and you won't be able to predict when. Do you think you can fight well under those conditions?"

Draconis stood facing Count Yuri in the main hall of the Imperial Palace. Things were not as the Emperor would have chosen them to be, but in times of war, there was no other way. Lately, the Count had become... different. Still, Draconis respected the vampire.

"You have never failed me, Count, not in two and a half centuries. I must rely on you to ensure the safety of our people while I wage this war. Can I count on your loyalty?"

Count Yuri remained silent, a cruel glimmer in his eyes.

"Yuri, I need the loyalty of my second in command. Will you support me in this war?"

The Count's unfeeling expression remained unchanged, his voice barely concealing a sarcastic tone.

"But of course, my lord."

Draconis paused a few seconds, fixing the Count with his piercing stare.

"That is good to hear, old friend."

The Emperor turned away, the steel tread of his spotless military boots making a dull thud against the marble as he walked down the halls of his palace. Of course, Count Yuri had no intention of keeping his word, nor did Draconis really expect him to, but appearances had to be maintained.

Ferranifer smiled at Serenia and then let her go, "Oh and to correct a former mistake on my part, my mind was wandering, she is", and Ferranifer nodded at Serenia, "Lady Serenia, not just Serenia." She looked at Serenia and smiled apologetically, "Forgive me the lack of title, please." She looked back up at Aiwyn, "I have fought in similar circumstances, though not, I'm sure, to the extreme in which we are heading. I do have ... other ... abilities, however. I should be able to fend for myself."
Ferranifer found it difficult not to let her old arrogance show. Showing the possibility of weakness in her former position was to draw enemies like flies to carrion. Lauralin had always used honesty and with those she would fight with Ferranifer found that knowing strengths or weaknesses of those with you allowed you to support thier weaknesses with your own strengths and vice-versa. She began to realize why her side had lost the mage wars, even with the devestating casualties they had inflicted.

Serenia hops to the floor, scurrying into a closet. Aiwyn rising, shutting the door behind the wombat before sitting once more. A few seconds later, the heavily muscled pooka peeks back out from the door, nude but remaining behind the door itself. "Can I get something to wear, Ferranifer?"

Aiwyn frowns ever so faintly, calling to a servant. "See if you can find something in the lady's size."

"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty."

Aiwyn turns her gaze back to Ferranifer. "There are millions of my countrymen and women who are to fight in this war for their nation. There are many soldiers from our allies who fight for their nations, at the behest of their kings and queens. However, you are the first I have had to offer her aid, on her own initiative, without orders. For this, I would call you friend. Sit with me?"

Ferranifer hands Serenia her two cases, "Use what you would, dear." She then turns and sits down with Aiwyn, "I'm sure if it were not for the situation back home that the Queen would send forces to assist you. Right now things are in turmoil, we've faced our own terrorist attacks there. She's trying to find out who is behind them. I'm afraid my advice is toward running the nation and I'm familiar with war situations but investigations are more her speciatlity than mine."

Aiwyn nods. "We, of course, have nothing but the greatest respect and affection for Her Majesty of Dragonsreach. It does sadden our heart that we have not had been able to see her since the ball where we met our imperial husband."

Serenia comes out in one of Ferranifer's gowns. "Can I really go to battle wearing this?"

Ferranifer cocked an eyebrow and looked down at her own regal looking gown. "What would you prefer? I wouldn't be caught dead in anything else. well, so to speak. Although the Queen does wear those awful leather pants and blue surcoat, but then she wields those nasty swords." Ferrinfer gave a fake shudder to emphasize her distaste for the Queens choice. "She's one of the most power magess's in the realm, I see no reason for such barbarism."

Her voice dropped to one of sullen jealousy, 'Especially when she doesn't have to spend HOURS on end studying because her magic comes to her naturally.'

"And armor", she said, "like her father tends to favor." This time a real shudder rippled through her at the thought of the power Holy Knight. "I mean how can you even MOVE in all that metal?"

Now the Empress caught her eye and she looked sidelong at her for a second before returning her attention to Serenia, "NOT that there's anything WRONG with it mind you."

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

St. James hoped that he would recognize whatever it was he was supposed to be looking for during his made dash to meet up with the Empress.

Serenia frowns. "I'm not the world's prettiest vampire witch queen Ferranifer the Eighth. I kill things with a spear. I need all the world's armor."

Aiwyn listens quietly, awaiting some response.

"Well I have no such weapons or armor, Lady serenia, I'm sorry."

Ferranifer returned her attention to Aiwyn. "The Queen would like the chance to visit with you again, she had to leave so abruptly last time. She needs to finish her conversation with the Lord of Akaton as well. I'm sure she'll resolve this situation, she's a cunning intellect. Once the situation is resolved I'm sure she'll be in contact with you for a more proper meeting."

Serenia wrinkles her nose, thrusting out her bottom lift. Walking over, the pooka hops into the air and lands in Ferranifer's lap. "My vampire!" She hugs the magus.

Aiwyn laughs lightly at the display. "Well, we shall see what happens. I do wish her all the best."

The blimp settles down near the trod and near St. James. Aiwyn rising. "I will be just a moment. I must change." She rises, departing for a moment.

((The actual war in the dreaming is http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=378728 so please move there as we enter.))

(OOC - Okay, just post when we enter)

Ferrinfer grins at Serenia and hugs her, then gets a far away look in her eyes. "Curious place to run into someone I know", she says, even though no one has entered the room.

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

St. James pulls up short as the blimp lands, "Damndest creature I've ever seen", he mutters as he eyes the blimp warily.

((I meant to go there now.))

Aiwyn returns momentarily in shining sidhe plate, a broadsword at her side. She strides from the blimp, looking to St. James. "Ambassador, what can I do for you?"

Serenia follows her out, slipping through the rath. The characters find themsvles in an open plain with about five hundred mounted sidhe, one thousand trolls, and ten thousand humans lined up in military formation, awaiting their empress.

((The next post for Draconis will be in the actual war thread))

Draconis strode out onto the docking balcony of the Imperial Palace, hovering a few kilometers above the capital. He wore a black power armor with ornate runic inlay of purest gold and a cloak of mithril chain mail flowing behind him. Though the armor appeared heavy, the Emperor moved with effortless grace thanks to the armor's mechanism.

The flagship of the Imperial Navy was waiting, its boarding ramp resting on the balcony before him. The grav ship dwarfed the landing balcony, stretching to a full length of twelve hundred meters, almost the size of the Palace itself. It was unduly grand in style, the muzzles of great cannons extending from the baroque arches of its gun decks along the sides. Gravitic drives and jet turbines dominated the underside of the ship. The prow of the ship was protected by a massive armored plate curving gracefully from the sculpture of a gilded eagle on the top, into a menacing ramming spike on the bottom. Towards the rear, a structure resembling a gothic cathedral rose up from between vertical maneuvering fins, containing the bridge within its adamantine walls.

It was from this grand vessel that the Emperor of Akaton would lead his fleet into battle.

((Nah, this is the right place for fighting in the Waking World. I should make a coordinating thread.))

((Ok then, I'll keep the Waking World portion of this war here.))

The Imperial Fleet was assembled in all its vast glory, countless hundreds of sky ships drifting lazily between layers of cloud and smog. They were over Mortgeist City, the home of the Imperial Army's primary bases. It was the most blighted portion of Akaton, taking industrial development to an apocalyptic extreme. The sky was a low canopy of dark clouds, lit orange by the all-consuming fires of arms factory furnaces. The fleet waited for the Imperial Army troop barges, massive constructs dwarfing all other Akatani vessels. Two kilometers of armored troop compartments and munitions stares, they each carried fifty thousand of the Emperor's soldiers. The first six were already launching, great boarding ramps retracting as grav engines flared, lifting the barges skyward. Elsewhere, battalions of infantry marched onto their transports. Marching in perfect rows with gas masks and heavy battle rifles, they looked like a modernized version the WWI era armies of a millennium ago.
_________________________________________________________________

In the capital, things of a much different sort were taking place. Count Yuri stalked through the halls of the Imperial Council's citadel. Since he had first heard of the war unfolding in the Dreaming, the Count had been plotting to take the power he had coveted for the past two hundred years. To this end, he was meet with a group of conspirators, who each had their own reasons for wanting a new Emperor. The vampiric Count made his way into the dark under levels of the citadel, far from the burning sun and the prying eyes of the media.

In these shadowy vaults, he met with an equally shadowy group. Amongst them were a handful of admirals and generals, along with some more sinister individuals. The Count addressed his assembled revolutionaries, an evil light in his eyes.

"Greetings, my friends. I have called you here today because we all share a common problem. The Emperor. It has come to my attention that he has gone to war with a certain Lady Aiobhell. This provides us with an opportunity we cannot miss. If Akaton's armies were to never return from this war, nothing could stand in our way."

One of the military men stepped from the shadows,

"What do you suggest, Count? Shall our forces move against the Imperial Army immediately?"

The Count shook his head, smiling faintly.

"No, not at all. You control too little of the military to defeat the Emperor in open war. Fortunately, he does not know of our conspiracy. For now, we will remain hidden. As they say, why drive when you can be driven? Our forces are being moved along with the rest of the army to fight in this war. Once they arrive, they can join with the armies of the Balor to secure our victory."

Emily Beck's face appears on the screen, looking distinctly somber. "Today was another tragic day for our great empire as brutal terrorist attacks struck the cities of Almalie, Novich, Skypeak, and Tarana itself. This is the second time the city of Almalie was struck. This time the target was not elven community, now thoroughly protected thinks to alarm over the last attack, but the city's tiny Christian minority. A Catholic Church, Our Lady of Compassion, was destroyed by a suicide bomber. The bomber's remains are unidentified but it is presumed he works with an organization connected with or sympathetic to the Lady Aoibhell. The attack in Tarana itself, however, claimed the most high profile victims, destroying a restaurant popular with the nobles of the Imperial Court. At this time..." she chokes up a little, looking down "...at this time rumors are circulating that the young Grand Duchess Vicotira might have been among the victims. If so, she would be the third member of the Imperial family we have lost this year."

The full force of the Imperial Navy had been assembled, troop barges launched, and military formations established. The fleet waited only for the Emperor's command to move out. Aboard the flagship, Draconis sat in his quarters replaying the news bulletin to make sure he had heard it right. To think that the innocent little girl that was his sister in law could have been struck down in such a foul attack appalled him in every possible way. The vengeance of the Imperium would be swift and merciless. Draconis shut off the broadcast, departing his quarters for the bridge.

He swept onto the bridge in his full battle armor, settling upon the carved bone command throne. He sat in brooding silence for a long minute before the presence of the executive officer captured his attention. He looked up as the officer spoke.

"The fleet is assembled. What is your command, m'Lord?"

Draconis spoke with a commanding tone, his eyes flashing bright with a burning hatred.

"All ahead full. Lay waste all that oppose us."

The countryside is silent as the fleet passes over. No one in the Waking World openly opposed the Akatoni forces as they fly over the Resurgent Dream. A few people far below can be spotted, looking like little ants as they gaze up at the friendly forces.

The bar was a strange place, catering almost exclusively to the few vampires who had come to the shores of the Resurgent Dream from Akaton. The drinks corresponded to the clientele, consisting mostly of blood or mixtures containing blood, all legally and non-violently obtained, of course. Tonight, it contained what was, for this place, a large crowd. About twelve of thirteen of the exclusive clientele lounged elegantly about, discussing art, politics, and other topics appropriate to the social elite.

A young redcap walked in. He couldn't have been more than twenty. A few of the customers turned to look, arching brows faintly. Redcaps could consume blood, of course, as they could consume anything. Still, it was rather expensive and the young man's trip here seemed pointless. Then, he opened his jacket. The bartender, the waitresses, the customers, all only had one or two seconds in which to register the presence of the bomb, before the bomb detonated, ending their unlives and shattering the quiet of the Tarana night.

As of the issuse of this statement, the Empire of the Resurgent Dream will e considered a class-three mllitary zone. As such, all Weyrean nationals should be advised to take any precautions they deem necessary for their safety while in the said nation. The Dpilomatic Service does request that such precautions and measures comply with all laws and regulations imposed by the Empire of the Resurgent Dream on foreign visitors.

This statement shoudl be of special notice to humans, Weyreans, elves, golems, and all non-fey beings.

Sincerely,
Consul-General J. W. Gibbs

Bombs and explosions were not something new for many Weyreans, not when the nice lady next door had the full right to own and drive a Mark VI battle tank down the road for groceries. Nonetheless, the Diplomatic Service was required to issue a formal cautionary statement, which it did to avoid any liability.

As the vast assembled forces watch, the raths begin to flicker and glow violently. The air around them is filled with sparkling energy for five to ten minutes before, with a flash, they close, leaving no apparent way in or out of the dreaming.

Aboard the battle cruiser Hell Reaper, flagship of the Third Fleet, Count Yuri's plan was progressing exactly as planned. Admiral Hyrim Bosche was the commander of this fleet, a vampire, and a key member of the conspiracy. His men were disciplined and followed their orders regardless of loyalties. The fleet numbered 156 ships, including two landing barges. As the other barges move towards the surface, these remain hovering among the sky cruisers. The plot was as follows; while saboteurs immobilized the larger Imperial ships, the traitor fleet would make their escape and defect to Balor.
_________________________________________________________________

Draconis watched the viewer scopes as the landing ships initiated landing sequences in preparation to deploy the vast legions of the Imperial Army. The flicker of the raths caught his eye. His concern grows as one by one they destabilize and collapse. Simultaneously, the engines of the traitor ships flare, accelerating the ships away from the fleet. The Emperor realizes what is happening only seconds before volleys of railgun fire slam into the armor of his ship.

Shouting over the chaos, Draconis issues his orders swiftly.
"Ascension protocol, get my fleet back in the air!"
The crew scrambles to battle stations, preparing to return fire. Void shields come online, encasing the ship in a spherical force field and absorbing the next volley of enemy fire in a shower of arcing energy.

Seconds later, in engine room five, a traitor rushes in holding a detonator. The man shouts as he presses the firing switch."For the Cause!"
No one had a chance to react, the explosion consuming the whole room in a burning wave of destruction.

The ship lurched, knocking the bridge crew down upon the deck plating. As Draconis gets to his feet, he is greeted by the panicked voice of the helm officer.
"Grav generators six through ten going off line. We're losing altitude!."
Draconis watched through the main viewer as the traitors cruised away, most of the Imperial fleet too severely damaged by sabotage to pursue.
"Redirect weapons power to the grav engines. Send whatever damage control teams are available. I want this ship operational as soon as is physically possible."

The traitor ships receive a simple, very short message. "I believe I can help you in what you seek to accomplish. Please send a representative to the Velvet Gauntlet in Tarana. Someone will meet with you there."

The traitor fleet settled into a mist shrouded mountain valley, hovering within the clouds, only a hundred feet up. The ships were running silent, Admiral Bosche knowing there was little hope if they were discovered. Only two things left the fleet that day, the transmission of an etheric portal and a lone Seraphim class fighter.
_________________________________________________________________

The etheric transmission was carrying Lieutenant Einsberg to the rendezvous indicated by the message. The portal dropped the Lieutenant in a side alley, drawing as little attention as possible. The man wore a hooded cloak over his military uniform, again with the intent of avoiding attention. He didn't know what he was looking for, so he simply waited in the shadows for his contact to arrive.
_________________________________________________________________

The fighter carried Admiral Bosche himself, returning to report to Count Yuri. The small aircraft darted below radar level, undetected and unsuspected. The fighter landed in the cement wastes just outside Akaton's capital, a small group of conspirators waiting with a hover car. Thus six hours after he departed, Hyrim Bosche arrived at the Imperial Council Citadel and the headquarters of the conspiracy.

A group of guards lead the man down into the vaults for his meeting with the Count. With the exception of the guards, Yuri was alone with Admiral Bosche. As the doors are closed and latched, Count Yuri speaks.

"What is your report, Admiral?"

Bosche replies with a boasting tone in his voice.

"Part one of our plan has been completed with the loss of only one cruiser, my lord. One hundred thousand troops of the Imperial Army and the full Third Fleet are now at your disposal."

Yuri replies, his voice taking on a menacing tone.

"You have done well, Admiral. However, I am no longer in need of your services. A conspirator without a purpose is a liability, and we must not risk failure. Goodbye, Admiral."

Bosche runs for the door, but it is too late. He is cut down in a hail of gunfire, slumping before the door. Count Yuri walks to the dying vampire, drawing forth a stake and impaling his former ally, making certain he would stay dead.

((OOC: He's just waiting in a Tarana alley?))

((Oops, I accidentally deleted a sentence from that last post. He is waiting in an alley adjacent to the meeting place. By the way, what sort of place is the Velvet Gauntlet?))

The Velvet Gauntlet is easily the most exclusive club in Tarana. The building itself is three stories high with towering columns of marble before the front entrance. The building itself is marble with large gilded windows on each level, looking down on the street below.

The first floor seems to be a restaurant. The servant's are all reasonably attractive human men and women who bow and curtsey to their guests and behave with impeccable deference and politeness. Most of the restaurant is taken up with round tables under gold and silver cloth. Booths, however, line two of the four walls and each booth has a fine velvet curtain to ensure the privacy of any customer who wishes it.

The clientele seems to be almost entirely sidhe, ali'i, oba, and mer though an isolated person of another race can be seen here and there. The 'bouncers', if you would call them that, are trolls, dressed in formal plate armor with bejeweled swords at their hips. They stand at perfect, unblinking military attention on either side of the entrance and at one or two places within the club.

After a few minutes in the alley, Lieutenant Einsberg checked his orders. Finding that he was to meet the contact inside the club, he made his way around to the front of the building. Admiring the marble columns, he realizes that this is not the sort of place where one remained hidden behind a hood. The Lieutenant stops before the trolls guarding the entrance, leaving his cloak at the door. Folded neatly inside the cloak is a ten thousand credit note, hopefully to avoid questions of his identity.

BUMP because its a good RP

Lieutenant Einsberg walked slowly into the club. He looked around the extravagantly decorated building, hoping for some sign of who he was supposed to be meeting. While he was busy searching, he BUMPed into one of the waiters.

A tall, blond sidhe, dressed in black and silver finery, smiles lightly at the lieutenant. He taps him lightly on the arm as he walks passd, sliding into a curtained booth.

Meanwhile, a voice comes over the speakers. "Citizens, it is with the greatest sadness that we must inform you of the untimely death of our beloved high queen, Agwene ni Gwydion. Her Majesty's plane crashed into the Atlantic Ocean earlier today. There were no survivors. Investigators believe that a mechanical error was responsible."

Duchess Nishakal stood her ground in a Tarana alley. She was dressed from head to toe in shimmering sidhe plate, gleaming golden in the light of the early afternoon sun, the impossibly fine plate outlining her athletic form with almost no weight or impediment. It was the armor of a ranking lady. In fact, Nishakal was one of the leaders of the Traditionalist Party in Parliament. She was the ruler of a Duchy with two million subjects. She was one of the leading advisors on matters of national defense and privy to information denied to the vast majority even of Parliament. Yet, here she was, in a back alley, being cornered by about a dozen redcaps. She readied her sword, preparing to meet them. She would not betray her true queen. She would not bow to Emeril’s will.

Count Stron walked quietly towards the car outside his Tarana townhouse, a young aid behind him. The younger sidhe had been his aid for decades and there was no one Stron trusted more. No one else knew where he was going. Stron was only half sure himself. He knew he wouldn’t be safe here. He was the second most prominent Modernist in Parliament, after the Prime Minister herself. Poor Lady Juliet. Stron could only imagine what could be happening to her now. The Count paused, looking off in thought, as his aid moved on towards the car, getting in and starting it. The blast interrupted Stron’s thought. A flicker of emotion crossed the sidhe’s face as he realized what had happened. Sorrow for his lost companion, though not truly dead, of course. Guilt that another man met a death meant for him. Stron only spared a moment. He didn’t have time for emotion. Not now. Not here. Turning, he ran as fast as he could.

Lord Loralon looked down at his dinner, not daring to let any expression cross his face. The other nobles in the fashionable Tarana club all did likewise as the dozen or so Eiluned knights, likely servants of Emeril. The young diplomat breathed in deeply. If only they wouldn’t notice him. His lips moved silently in a prayer to Anu. If only they didn’t notice him.

Lieutenant Einsberg noted carefully which booth the tall sidhe had entered. The Lieutenant remained walking the floors for a few minutes to avoid giving the impression that he was actually meeting someone. As he made his way to the booth, he listened to the announcement. Upon taking his seat, his expression was one of complete apathy. The death of another noblewoman meant little to him. The ones he owed loyalty to wouldn't be saddened by the death, so neither would he. Turning to the sidhe, he spoke with an almost pleasant tone.

"It seems the royal family is having an unusual amount of trouble with death lately. Odd, isn't it?"

The sidhe smirks faintly. "Well, how else can anyone new claim the throne?" The man lays his hands on the table, studying the lieutenant carefully. "Our proposal is very simple. A nobleman named Emeril is going to claim TRD proper. Once he's in power, he will recognize your people as the legitimate government of Akaton and get rid of all this silly Empire of Mists business. He'll also recognize Aoibhell as Queen of the Dreaming. All we want is the same recognition from you and for you to move your people back to Akaton and declare the coup. We're fairly certain we've already taken care of most of the imperial family here and even the royal families."

Lieutenant Einsberg frowned.

"Tell me, do you actually want to see millions of your people executed in the streets, cities bombarded into ruble, and whole populations sent to slave camps?"

The Lieutenant pauses, collecting his thoughts.

"Now, if I have your attention, let me explain. Whether you know it or not, Emperor Draconis is here, along with the entire Imperial Fleet. He will not only oppose Count Yuri's revolution, but he will fight any attempt at overthrowing the government here. He considers the killing of rebels to be outside the normal treaties governing war. If the fleets aren't destroyed, the Emperor will unleash horrors unlike anything the world has seen. I am here, in the words of my superior officers, "to coordinate revolutionary efforts", essentially begging for support against an overwhelming force. Though I prefer to avoid dramatics, unless you join us, we will all die."

The sidhe blinked once. "Well, I'm sure if he tried anything like that, his own wife would challenge him to Danse Macabre as soon as she comes back from the dead. No one's talking about fighting in the streets. We're talking about a sucession, clean and simple. We prefer putting thought into these things and not blasting away futiley and superior military force. The ascension of the new High King is already quite official and legal. I've told you the intelligent, subtle, respectable plan we'll get behind. Do you seriously want to fight a bloody war of attrition here?"

Lieutenant Einsberg considered a moment.

"If it is a true succession, Emperor Draconis may be forced to recognize Emiril as the legitimate ruler of TRD. The problem I see is that if his wife is killed, it may give him an excuse to go to war. If it wasn't for this, he would probably leave in peace. It isn't Akaton's policy to interfere in foreign politics."

At this point, the Lieutenant lowered his voice to barely more than a whisper.

"I don't want a bloody civil war any more than you do, but Count Yuri does. At this point, he essentially rules Akaton, but if Emperor Draconis returns with the Imperial Fleet, the rebellion is doomed. The traitor admirals are just as big a threat, as they will try to seize power for themselves. Count Yuri will try to manipulate the situation to eliminate both Draconis and the traitor admirals. He does not care how many innocents may die."

The sidhe paused a moment as he considered. "That is certainly something we would be quite concerned about. Can I ask exactly what it is that you pro...?" The man just froze as the bland music playing is suddenly replaced with a voice.

"Citizens of the Resurgent Dream, this your queen. Rumors of my death have been greatly exagerrated. In fact, recent events are owed not only to the attacks of High Lady Aoibhell but to a traitor by the name of Emeril, who now lies dead. All rank-and-file members of his false government are hereby granted clemency provided that they turn themselves in to proper authorities within twenty-four hours. There shall be no mercy whatsoever for those responsible for the cowardly terrorist attacks of the last week, attacks which ruthlessly targetted children and other helpless and unarmed people. However, terrorists whose involvement in these attacks was relatively minor, will be allowed given a somewhat lesser sentence provided they both turn themselves in immediately and provide knowledge leading to the capture of terrorist masterminds and the actual murderers. I will address you again when more information presents itself and when I have had time to take full account of the situation."

The conspirator gulped visibly at the message. "Things just got quite a bit worse for our side, I do believe."

As the voice spoke, the hope seemed to drain from Lieutenant Einsberg's face. His voice was flat and emotionless.

"For me, this is the end. Without support here, there is no chance of securing power in Akaton. However severe the Queen's judgement may be, it is nothing like what will happen if I am to return to Akaton. Traitors do not benefit from the ban on torture. I see only one choice left for me."

The Lieutenant draws his pistol and puts it to his head. An instant later, his life ends with the sound of a shot.
_________________________________________________________________

The fighter that carried Admiral Bosche to his death now returned with an entirely different passenger. Count Yuri had chosen to lead his forces to the glorious victory he believed awaited them. The officers awaited him on the bridge. There was no bowing, not even saluting for Yuri.

The captain was the first to speak.
"Count, where is Admiral Bosche?"

Yuri stopped, his expression one of bewildered anger.
"What is the meaning of this? You will bow to me."

No one on the bridge moved,
"Where is he, Yuri?"

The Count replied,
"He died for the cause, now explain yourself."

The captain frowned,
"It is over, this revolution. We cannot win now."

Yuri took a step back, his voice taking on a frantic tone.
"No, it can't be. We were so close, I will not allow it to end like this. You will engage Draconis' fleet immediately."

Again, the bridge was still, the captain speaking for the rest.
"No one more will die for this cause. God knows, enough have given their lives already. If you give yourself up peacefully, you can keep your dignity for now. Don't make us put you in the brig."

Guards moved from the shadows to escort Count Yuri from the bridge.

The sidhe looked down upon his recently deceased conspirator. He frowned a little as he stood, walking rapidly towards the front of the club.

"Judge Sokar!" someone called out as he left.

"Your Honor, how are you?"

"Sokar!"

Within moments, a crowd of people had gathered around the noticeably agitated nobleman, asking him what he thought of current events, what his rulings would be. As the sidhe attempted to disentangle himself, the body was discovered. It was only a few moments before the guards were moving towards the traitor, grabbing him by the arms, hauling him to prison. "Why couldn't you have waited until I was gone to kill yourself, fool?" he muttered to the dead man.

Emperor Draconis sat upon his command throne, armored fingers tapping upon the carved bone. He had been summoned to the bridge after the comm. officer had received a message from the traitor fleets. The message was a simple "Stand by." Etheric scanners detected what seemed to be weapons fire. It was several hours before the next message arrived, tense hours spent charging weaponry and preparing for an attack that never came. Instead, the message that arrived was "We surrender." along with a series of location coordinates.

A spontaneous cheer sounded across the bridge, officers briefly ignoring protocol to celebrate their victory. As order returned to the bridge, the crew awaited the command of their Emperor. Draconis was taken quite by surprise by the surrender. He considered his options carefully before speaking.

"Set a course to their present location and transmit the following, 'Stand down and prepare to receive us'."

Agwene sat down after a very rough day and hit the switch for her newfangled visual monitor in her office. "Get me in touch with Emperor Draconis please." Technicians immediately set to work establishing a link with the emperor's ship.

On the bridge of the Imperial Flagship, a small light lit up on the comm. officer's console. The man turned to Draconis, saluting.

"We are receiving a transmission, my lord."

Draconis looked up from a tactical radar display,

"Bring it up on the main viewer."

The Emperor was rather surprised to see Agwene's face appear on the screen before him.

"Greetings your majesty, it is good to see you alive. What can the Imperial Fleet do for you?"

Agwene smiled weakly. "It is good to be alive. A condition I owe entirely to the Lady Sirithil. However, I was hoping you had some good news to tell me about my sister, your wife. Have you heard anything since the raths closed?"

Draconis paces back and forth in front of the viewer, his voice taking on a somber tone at the mention of his wife.

"I am most sorry, we have heard nothing. It seems the technological dead zone of the Dreaming interferes with Akatoni etheric transmitters. All of our attempts to reopen the raths have failed, and cross planar teleportation has proved to be all but impossible."

In the corner of the ship's cavernous bridge, a group of mystics, priests of the Deus Mechanicus, were setting up some sort of altar. They had been busy performing rituals to open a portal for several hours, unaware that the machine god had no real power in non-industrial areas. Though their presence annoyed Draconis, he tolerated them now. At this point, he was willing to try anything to gain access to the Dreaming.

Agwene shook her head. "No, it's not that. The etheric transmitters work fine if they have a rath to go through. In fact, all of your technology can be...augmented...to function in the dreaming. It's part of what our people have been contributing to the hybrid fleets. The problem is that the raths are closed. I don't know why. I don't know how to get them open. And my people are as clueless as I am. I'm sure the dreaming has its own reasons and they'll open once more when the time comes. It's what happens in the meantime that worries me."

"Indeed, it is most disturbing not to know what is happening. However, for now, the Imperial Master of Ordnance will have to be informed of this means of altering Akatoni technology. It would be a cruel irony for the raths to reopen just to find the Imperial Army incapable of doing battle."

As Draconis spoke to Agwene, a large battle cruiser moved away from the main fleet, heading to the location of the traitor ships to collect Count Yuri.

Agwene nodded. "It would, at that. Still, I trust in our forces already in the dreaming."

Agwene continued. "There is little more to be done militarily in the Waking World. This evening, I am formally receiving the Elentari of Menelmacar, who has been of inestimatible aid in the current situation. Would you wish to attend?"

(( http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=381879 ))

Draconis considered for just a moment.

"I would most certainly wish to attend. As for the military, if no further aid is required, I shall remove the Akatoni Imperial Fleet from your skies and the Army from your lands."

At about that moment, the raths reopen with a burst and the first few troops from the battles in the dreaming begin pouring through. Agwene smiles to Draconis sadly. "I just hope everything in the dreaming turns out for the best." She reaches to end the transmission when her eye is drawn elsewhere on the console. "My people are telling me the raths are back and Aiwyn's fine."

"Thank the Gods, I had feared the worst. Until this evening, farewell."

Draconis terminated the connection, dropping down into his command throne with a sigh of relief. There remained but one thing to attend to. He turned to the security officer.
"When the battlecruiser Hammer of Sorrow returns, order that Count Yuri be brought before me for judgement."

An hour later, the bridge blast doors hissed open and the sounds of heavy chains clinking against deck plating heralded Count Yuri's arrival, escorted by a pair of heavily armed guards. They preceded to drag him in front of the Emperor, stopping about twenty feet from the throne. When Yuri failed to bow, the guards beat him to the ground with their rifles. After a minute of watching the abuse, Draconis got to his feet, gesturing to the door.
"Enough, leave us."

The guard stopped, and along with the bridge officers, bowed and walked from the bridge. For what seemed like ages, Draconis simply stared at the bound form of the Count, trying to make sense of what his once loyal ally had become. Finally, Draconis spoke, his voice conveying equal measures of hatred and sorrow.
"I have but one question for you, Yuri. Why? After two centuries of loyalty, two centuries of being the second most powerful person in the Imperium, why do you now betray me?"

Count Yuri looked up at the Emperor, a look of spite on his face.
"It was always the second most powerful. I had just as much right to the throne of Akaton as you. Second best isn't good enough. For me it is everything or nothing."

Draconis replied, the sorrow vanishing from his voice, replaced by a pitiless determination.
"So be it."

The Emperor approached Yuri, drawing his sword and raising it to strike off the traitor's head. A moment before the blade would have sliced into Yuri's neck, Draconis stopped, lowering his sword.
"By rights, I should kill you, but that is not to be your fate."

Yuri sneered.
"Well, your majesty, thank you for your mercy.

Draconis smiled bitterly.
"Mercy? No, not mercy. Death is too good for you. You will be sent ot the work camps in the Mortgeist arms factories, to suffer in the burning furnaces along side the slaves and common criminals. Your sentence is three thousand years, one for each life lost to your pitiful revolution."

He pressed a comm panel, summoning the guards. They seized Count Yuri and drug him off the bridge like a dog. The revolution was forever over.

Agwene nodded. "I'll see you then." She turned off the channel, rose, and returned to her guest.

FIN