Kriegorgrad
21-11-2004, 21:41
OOC: Hi, this is Kriegorgrad and I’ve (finally) decided to try my hand at Future Tech, hope to RP with you guys soon. By the way, as a note, I am the Covenant after High Charity (Covenant homeworld) was taken over by the flood.
This is an epilogue of sorts.
By the way people, I will still RP my modern tech nation of Kriegorgrad but I will also RP the future tech version of it, which has actually nothing to do with Kriegorgrad, as it is the Covenant; a collective of zealous aliens, rather than the humans of modern tech Kriegorgrad.
IC:
Prologue: A long story short
As soon as the great fleet entered the system, the message was sent on all frequencies, hopefully, the message would land on the right frequency.
We, the sacred Covenant, are a collective of races, blessed and anointed in the Prophets’ guiding light, however, that same light was dealt a foul blow, a blow we shall not speak of now, as this is a new beginning for the covenant, we hope to open diplomatic relations with any who are interested.
We are looking for strong, long-term allies that will help if called upon, we of the Covenant are an honourable collective and a peaceful one but when roused to war, we will not back down.
Thank you for your time.
Yours,
Commander Zerathil, The Prophet’s will and guardian of Sacred Rings
OOC Note: If you want to read about the events prior to the message being sent out, then feel free to do so but, what you just read was the bare minimum needed to get the gist of the story.
IC:
Chapter One: The Exodus
Commander Zerathil stood on the deck; a wild fusion of blues and purples slashed the smooth walls as the gentle hum of the ship’s systems gave a peaceful feel to the covenant capital ship. Zerathil looked out the observation glass on the deck, at the burning world below. High Charity, his golden armour shimmering, almost mimicking his want to land on the Holy World City of High Charity and defend it’s holy ground. The parasite had spread from one of the sacred rings and into the Holy City of High Charity.
Zerathil turned to Prophet beside him, it was hard to imagine that the Prophet had once been a mere council member, albeit a high ranking one, but a council member nonetheless, thankfully, the traitorous brutes hadn’t claimed all of the Prophets’ race, the regal creature looked resplendent in it’s floating throne, golden crown towering above his face that sat on his long, lithe neck. Only when the Prophet of Hope turned to him; in acknowledgement, did Zerathil speak.
”My holy Prophet…what shall become of the covenant? We have a fleet yet we have no home! We don’t even have the capability of having an arbiter to guide us through these turbulent times!”
The Prophet spoke, in a low yet high voice that carried with it, extreme confidence, the confidence one would expect of a Prophet.
“The Covenant has sustained far worse Commander, should the Covenant splinter whenever we meet a bump in our path to the Great Journey, we would’ve broken long ago, thankfully, we are stronger than that.”
”But Holy Prophet…what else have we sustained that can outmatch this? The Covenant has never lost it’s home world…I am sorry Holy Prophet, but I cannot see how we are to survive this, the Covenant has never been forced to its knees by a mere parasite!”
”True, but what chance does the Covenant have of surviving if we fail now? Give up, lose all hope. None, it is in hope that we must place our faith. The gods shall deliver us Zerathil, the gods shall.”
“But we are running from our homeworld, why should we run! Why not stand and fight?”
Zerathil looked about to argue but he put fist chest and said biddably, “yes Holy Prophet”
Michi; a high level grunt that was in charge of the administrative duties aboard The Faithful, lay back in his chair; eyes on the ceiling thanks to the low-lying command seat, shut his eyes and was about to drift off to sleep…when a low hissing awoke him, he opened his eyes and they went darting around the room, his beady black eyes finding nothing in the shadows of the room, yet the hissing continued.
Michi strained his ears until he got a vague idea of where the hissing was coming from: him. Michi rolled over to see Zuli, a younger grunt of lower rank, siphoning Michi’s methane! A small exchange of barks and chirrups resulted in Zuli trotting off to start the laborious journey down 3 corridors, lazy as grunts were, it was still ironic that despite their home world dying, the remainder of the Covenant fleet fleeing, the grunts found the time to be lazy.
Michi began to wonder whether he should actually do some work before an elite caught him napping, he decided too and his stubby little fingers began to dart along the holo-panel, he began to check through the mammoth fleet that was fleeing the dying world of High Charity.
Zerathil, commander of a fleet that had only received the distress call when it was too late, returned to High Charity with a large amount of ships to pick up as many refugees as they could, after endless hours of counting, the small number came to 1.7 billion, a pitiful number considering the entire Covenant once numbered around one hundred billion.
Chapter Two: The Silence
For months the fleet kept on, food and water were beginning to run out, the ships were cramped, 1.7 billion was never going to be an easy number to transport on mainly military vessels, military vessels were meant for the holy crusade against humanity, not transporting refugees nor were they meant the transport of a massive amount of foodstuffs, not to mention the grunts’ methane. Zerathil had more talks with the Prophet of Hope, mainly of what to do next, despite the Prophet’s wisdom, he had given few answers.
Commander Zerathil stood on the bridge for days at a time, Zerathil and his fleet had been through numerous solar systems, all of them were dead, not one terra-grade planet in any of them, Zerathil assumed this day would be no different, he was wrong.
While Zerathil was engrossed in one of his talks with the Prophet of Hope, a grunt began to squeal, “SIR! SIR! ME FOUND WATER! WATER!” Zerathil begged the Prophet’s forgiveness and turned to rush to the grunt, “Water, show me! Quickly!” The grunt pulled up a list of data on the holo-panels and Zerathil let the crew cheer, the guttural bellow of the elites mixing with the chirps of the grunts while the screeching of jackals cut through both, many minutes later, when the news had reached the hunters, roars were let loose that rocked the ship.
Not one brute cheered, they had proved themselves an untrustworthy race of traitors, when they had tried to clamber aboard The Faithful - as if they were worthy of being saved or being labelled refugees in need of help - Zerathil had impaled many on his plasma blade, the arrogant beasts thought that raw strength could over come an elite’s skill, Foolish, arrogant beasts.
“Oh…I knew that there would be a catch” The grunt moaned, “Humans sir…lots of them but they don’t seem to have anything to do with the ones we fought…nothing at all.”
Zerathil turned and strode to the Prophet, “most Holy Prophet, what shall we do?”
A deafening silence filled the bridge, peace with the humans? Unthinkable!
”We shall be to them as brothers of course”
The Prophet gave a slight grin.
”Many of them will know nothing of us, nor our holy war and who’s to say, the ends do not justify the means? No one I say! We shall accept the gullible human race into our bosom and then plunge the blade into their back.”
A cruel, harsh laughter in numerous alien tongues filled the bridge, while the deep boom of hunters roaring in pleasure echoed throughout the ship.
Chapter Three: New Found Friends
Each and every single covenant was made to swear an oath of secrecy, none were to tell the humans of the Prophets grand plan, lest they be branded heretics and cast out from the covenant before being hunted down like dogs.
As soon as the great fleet entered the system, the message was sent on all frequencies, hopefully, the message would land on the right frequency.
We, the sacred Covenant, are a collective of races, blessed and anointed in the Prophets’ guiding light, however, that same light was dealt a foul blow, a blow we shall not speak of now, as this is a new beginning for the covenant, we hope to open diplomatic relations with any who are interested.
We are looking for strong, long-term allies that will help if called upon, we of the Covenant are an honourable collective and a peaceful one but when roused to war, we will not back down.
Thank you for your time.
Yours,
Commander Zerathil, The Prophet’s will and guardian of Sacred Rings
This is an epilogue of sorts.
By the way people, I will still RP my modern tech nation of Kriegorgrad but I will also RP the future tech version of it, which has actually nothing to do with Kriegorgrad, as it is the Covenant; a collective of zealous aliens, rather than the humans of modern tech Kriegorgrad.
IC:
Prologue: A long story short
As soon as the great fleet entered the system, the message was sent on all frequencies, hopefully, the message would land on the right frequency.
We, the sacred Covenant, are a collective of races, blessed and anointed in the Prophets’ guiding light, however, that same light was dealt a foul blow, a blow we shall not speak of now, as this is a new beginning for the covenant, we hope to open diplomatic relations with any who are interested.
We are looking for strong, long-term allies that will help if called upon, we of the Covenant are an honourable collective and a peaceful one but when roused to war, we will not back down.
Thank you for your time.
Yours,
Commander Zerathil, The Prophet’s will and guardian of Sacred Rings
OOC Note: If you want to read about the events prior to the message being sent out, then feel free to do so but, what you just read was the bare minimum needed to get the gist of the story.
IC:
Chapter One: The Exodus
Commander Zerathil stood on the deck; a wild fusion of blues and purples slashed the smooth walls as the gentle hum of the ship’s systems gave a peaceful feel to the covenant capital ship. Zerathil looked out the observation glass on the deck, at the burning world below. High Charity, his golden armour shimmering, almost mimicking his want to land on the Holy World City of High Charity and defend it’s holy ground. The parasite had spread from one of the sacred rings and into the Holy City of High Charity.
Zerathil turned to Prophet beside him, it was hard to imagine that the Prophet had once been a mere council member, albeit a high ranking one, but a council member nonetheless, thankfully, the traitorous brutes hadn’t claimed all of the Prophets’ race, the regal creature looked resplendent in it’s floating throne, golden crown towering above his face that sat on his long, lithe neck. Only when the Prophet of Hope turned to him; in acknowledgement, did Zerathil speak.
”My holy Prophet…what shall become of the covenant? We have a fleet yet we have no home! We don’t even have the capability of having an arbiter to guide us through these turbulent times!”
The Prophet spoke, in a low yet high voice that carried with it, extreme confidence, the confidence one would expect of a Prophet.
“The Covenant has sustained far worse Commander, should the Covenant splinter whenever we meet a bump in our path to the Great Journey, we would’ve broken long ago, thankfully, we are stronger than that.”
”But Holy Prophet…what else have we sustained that can outmatch this? The Covenant has never lost it’s home world…I am sorry Holy Prophet, but I cannot see how we are to survive this, the Covenant has never been forced to its knees by a mere parasite!”
”True, but what chance does the Covenant have of surviving if we fail now? Give up, lose all hope. None, it is in hope that we must place our faith. The gods shall deliver us Zerathil, the gods shall.”
“But we are running from our homeworld, why should we run! Why not stand and fight?”
Zerathil looked about to argue but he put fist chest and said biddably, “yes Holy Prophet”
Michi; a high level grunt that was in charge of the administrative duties aboard The Faithful, lay back in his chair; eyes on the ceiling thanks to the low-lying command seat, shut his eyes and was about to drift off to sleep…when a low hissing awoke him, he opened his eyes and they went darting around the room, his beady black eyes finding nothing in the shadows of the room, yet the hissing continued.
Michi strained his ears until he got a vague idea of where the hissing was coming from: him. Michi rolled over to see Zuli, a younger grunt of lower rank, siphoning Michi’s methane! A small exchange of barks and chirrups resulted in Zuli trotting off to start the laborious journey down 3 corridors, lazy as grunts were, it was still ironic that despite their home world dying, the remainder of the Covenant fleet fleeing, the grunts found the time to be lazy.
Michi began to wonder whether he should actually do some work before an elite caught him napping, he decided too and his stubby little fingers began to dart along the holo-panel, he began to check through the mammoth fleet that was fleeing the dying world of High Charity.
Zerathil, commander of a fleet that had only received the distress call when it was too late, returned to High Charity with a large amount of ships to pick up as many refugees as they could, after endless hours of counting, the small number came to 1.7 billion, a pitiful number considering the entire Covenant once numbered around one hundred billion.
Chapter Two: The Silence
For months the fleet kept on, food and water were beginning to run out, the ships were cramped, 1.7 billion was never going to be an easy number to transport on mainly military vessels, military vessels were meant for the holy crusade against humanity, not transporting refugees nor were they meant the transport of a massive amount of foodstuffs, not to mention the grunts’ methane. Zerathil had more talks with the Prophet of Hope, mainly of what to do next, despite the Prophet’s wisdom, he had given few answers.
Commander Zerathil stood on the bridge for days at a time, Zerathil and his fleet had been through numerous solar systems, all of them were dead, not one terra-grade planet in any of them, Zerathil assumed this day would be no different, he was wrong.
While Zerathil was engrossed in one of his talks with the Prophet of Hope, a grunt began to squeal, “SIR! SIR! ME FOUND WATER! WATER!” Zerathil begged the Prophet’s forgiveness and turned to rush to the grunt, “Water, show me! Quickly!” The grunt pulled up a list of data on the holo-panels and Zerathil let the crew cheer, the guttural bellow of the elites mixing with the chirps of the grunts while the screeching of jackals cut through both, many minutes later, when the news had reached the hunters, roars were let loose that rocked the ship.
Not one brute cheered, they had proved themselves an untrustworthy race of traitors, when they had tried to clamber aboard The Faithful - as if they were worthy of being saved or being labelled refugees in need of help - Zerathil had impaled many on his plasma blade, the arrogant beasts thought that raw strength could over come an elite’s skill, Foolish, arrogant beasts.
“Oh…I knew that there would be a catch” The grunt moaned, “Humans sir…lots of them but they don’t seem to have anything to do with the ones we fought…nothing at all.”
Zerathil turned and strode to the Prophet, “most Holy Prophet, what shall we do?”
A deafening silence filled the bridge, peace with the humans? Unthinkable!
”We shall be to them as brothers of course”
The Prophet gave a slight grin.
”Many of them will know nothing of us, nor our holy war and who’s to say, the ends do not justify the means? No one I say! We shall accept the gullible human race into our bosom and then plunge the blade into their back.”
A cruel, harsh laughter in numerous alien tongues filled the bridge, while the deep boom of hunters roaring in pleasure echoed throughout the ship.
Chapter Three: New Found Friends
Each and every single covenant was made to swear an oath of secrecy, none were to tell the humans of the Prophets grand plan, lest they be branded heretics and cast out from the covenant before being hunted down like dogs.
As soon as the great fleet entered the system, the message was sent on all frequencies, hopefully, the message would land on the right frequency.
We, the sacred Covenant, are a collective of races, blessed and anointed in the Prophets’ guiding light, however, that same light was dealt a foul blow, a blow we shall not speak of now, as this is a new beginning for the covenant, we hope to open diplomatic relations with any who are interested.
We are looking for strong, long-term allies that will help if called upon, we of the Covenant are an honourable collective and a peaceful one but when roused to war, we will not back down.
Thank you for your time.
Yours,
Commander Zerathil, The Prophet’s will and guardian of Sacred Rings