NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: I find that Gorbgan IV is often (often but briefly) portrayed as a dark character, but there is nothing behind him. I thought it would be a good time to give him some companionship. This will run alongside a much, much larger background RP, the first post of which I'm still working on. That will cover why he seems to be the only Ghargonian to have any interest in humans, the finer details of the Trelos incident mentioned below, and how he came to become Emperor/Ghargon of the Empire/Imperium, among other, minor, things. That will be a historic RP though, starting in the 60s when Gorbgan was a kid. This is current. It's not closed, but I don't see that there's a way for anyone to get involved.

IC:

There was emptiness. He looked around and there was nothing of value. Nothing that really meant anything. He had riches, a throne, power, but nothing important. There was a vacuum in his life that could not be filled with mindless indulgence.

Gorbgan was powerful. Very powerful. Perhaps the most powerful Ghargon since before the Decline of the Imperium thousands of years ago. His people had almost deified him; to them, he was held in as high regard as Krak himself, the legendary Ghargonian warrior from the Before Era.
Combined with his immense physical strength and size, he had not been challenged since he first game to power, twenty years ago. Not a single challenge for his position. This meant that his people must have believed him to be the strongest Ghargonian alive. His name was sung in the streets of cities on his hatching day, people cheered when they saw his face. He had such titles as 'Gorbgan: Slayer of Kree', and 'Gorbgan: He who Tamed the Mighty Imperium'.

He was the most successful Ghargon ever to rule.

But it meant nothing to him right now.

Trelos, his first mate – it was her fault. He had met her back when they still lived on Earth, just after he had killed the previous Emperor. Before they had had a chance to have offspring together, Gorbgan had been forced to kill her. She was a traitor, using her position to ship tactical and technological information to the primitive humans of that world.

Her betrayal had deeply scarred him. It was a lapse of judgement, a weakness in his otherwise terralium-cased record. His father had continued to tell him that it was not his fault – that he had no way of knowing. His words still flew around his head whenever he met a female. But they weren't true. It was entirely his fault.

When he was presented with evidence that Trelos had been a traitor, he had been angrier than any other time in his life. He vowed never to let his emotions influence his leadership again. That same day, he had ordered Trelos be skinned alive and, if she survived, buried alive with iksecor insects. Betrayal of the Ghargonian Empire and, later, the Ghargant Imperium was not tolerated. And the gruesome death of Trelos, the Ghargon's mate, demonstrated to their entire society that nobody would be allowed to get away with it.

But his isolation didn't fill the vacuum that he found himself stranded in. He had no offspring. No son to train in the art of hocket, no daughter to teach how to kill a male for an act of disrespect. He had no offspring to take his place in the Final Challenge.
It was traditional for the oldest son or daughter to kill their father during the early stages of old age, in unarmed combat. The mother would be killed by the second youngest. This was a final gesture; the eggling demonstrated that he or she was an improvement over their parents. It showed that the parent had done well in choosing a mate and in raising their offspring, and they could die – before they became weak, frail and disgraced – safe in the knowledge that their eggling was stronger than they were. If the eggling failed to defeat their parent, of course, they would die in their place. In the case of the Ghargon, the eggling would take his place as Ghargon, so it was doubly important.

So what would happen to him now? As was customary, if a Ghargon had no egglings to challenge him, he would eventually start to grow weak with age. Someone stronger than he would come along and kill him and take his place. A stranger would defeat him in the Final Challenge. This was not as it was supposed to be.

He musings were getting him nowhere. He rose from his throne, looking around at the fast, marble room. So rich, yet so poor. He strode along, following the path of slightly darker marble which led to the door. He pulled the huge metal doors open with the sort of ease one might expect from the strongest man alive, and he looked down at the Ghargonian sitting at the desk beside it.

"You," he snapped. The receptionist looked around vaguely, then looked back at him. She seemed almost disinterested, although females typically were. "Contact Ulsarius, ask her to be at the Verkash district reekhouse by nightfall to meet with me."

Daughter of General Postak, Ulsarius, was a magnificent creature. Gorbgan had always admired her strength, and she was one of the few females who was an active participant in regular hocket matches. Unfortunately, if Gorbgan had only one enemy in this world, it was Postak.

The receptionist's eyes narrowed slightly, but she still seemed disinterested. "Is that wise, my Lord?"

"No," Gorbgan shook his head and grinned. "Do it anyway."

"Whatever you say my Lord," she shrugged, and started typing on her console again. Gorbgan glared at her for a few minutes, desperately trying to get some sort of response. But she ignored him. He shrugged and walked away.
Ulsarius would be a tough challenge, but she was an honourable, loyal Ghargonian – he was sure of it. She was daughter of a General after all.

OOC: Maybe if you changed it to an explanation of his childhood while running a current RP then I could have Pr. Herk Aumagaug go over. Trust me he would be an eccentric enough character to understand the Ghargonian line of reasoning and he's doing research so that's good too. How bout it?

OOC: I meant that this one isn't closed, I wasn't talking about the one I'm still doing. Although, it's possible... part of it does involve him being captured by humans. I'll mull over it for a while...

OOC: Ah cool TG with any details you think need to be revealed ahead of time.

This reekhouse was like any other; dark, old fashioned. Firetorches stood in the corners, and a lamp hung over the centre of the room, but there was no artificial light. Not a hint of technology anywhere, which was a contrast to the huge skyscraper it was built into the side of. Wooden walls, a wooden bar with a surface that would give a human splinters, wooden chairs, dented metal ale mugs... on Earth such a bar would be regarded as 'quaint'. Here, it was the norm, and frequently violent.

The noise was as unique as the appearance. Mostly males shouting at each other, their booming laughs and deafening roars overwhelming the sound of mugs been hit against each other and chairs scraping across the wooden floor. Some of them were completely intoxicated, linking arms and swaying slightly as they sang drinking songs and threw their mugs across the room.

The room smelled fittingly 'old'; a musky smell one might expect to find in an old piece of furniture. Combined with the stench of ale, it was quite overpowering.

In the far corner of the room was a small arena. Two males, obviously drunk, were taking swings at each other. What friends of theirs were conscious cheered them on, waving their mugs above their heads and then wondering what was falling on them.

What females there were in here shot the males filthy looks. One male lay unconscious near a table of females with green blood trickling from the corner of his mouth; an ill-fated mating challenge, no doubt. Females plus alcohol made for foes more lethal than natural disasters.

Gorbgan wore little else but the standard 'skirt'; a short white wrap-around held on by a thick leather belt. He'd left his robes at the palace, hoping nobody would recognise him. A few people obviously did, however; his large size and powerful jaws often gave him away. They pointed, but did nothing. Celebrity worship was not present here, thankfully. A reekhouse was a haven for all to come and drink and laugh, with no risk of challenge or hassle. Even for the Ghargon.

He narrowed his yellow eyes, panning across the room. In this light it was difficult enough to see anyway, but with countless males jumping across the room in drunken frenzies, it was much harder. But he found her.

Ulsarius sat at at the rear of the reekhouse, on a hard wooden bench to the left of the bar. She wore little but simple clothing as well, though being a reptile a female Ghargonian had little more to hide than a male -- and most Ghargonians preferred wearing nothing at all anyway. It made little difference to them, but those in positions of power typically wore some form of clothing. She held an ale mug, but didn't drink from it. She instead surveyed the room with casual disinterest.

Gorbgan started to make his way across the reekhouse. He remembered his teenage years well, and knew that you didn't ask people to move out of your way, you moved them yourself. To ask implied a weakness, that you would be otherwise incapable of getting by without help. It wasn't exactly a serious weakness, you were unlikely to be challenged for it, but nobody took the risk.
Gorbgan placed his hand against the chest of another Ghargonian, who looked around in surprise as he was shoved into a crowd of patrons. Another followed him.

Ulsarius looked up as the crowd in front of her broke open. A male flew to the floor and Gorbgan stepped out of the rabble, standing in front of her.

"You are Ulsarius, daughter of Postak?" he growled. He knew who she was, he was simply following tradition. She was as he remembered her; her green scales pockmarked with elegant brown streaks, her jaw line strong and powerful. As with most females, she was larger than most typical males, although Gorbgan was significantly taller than most males. She was an inch shorter than he. The extra height and the brown patches were the only real ways of distinguishing male from female so far as a human or other alien might be concerned, but as with all species, to the Ghargonians these subtle differences were obvious.

"I am Ulsarius," she snarled. "Who are you, male?"

"I am Gorbgan, Ghargon of the Imperium," he roared. A few people turned around, but as before, they were unconcerned. His presence on the battlefield boosted morale, but his presence in a reekhouse was nothing particularly amazing.

"What do you want, Gorbgan?" she mocked. "I do not get dragged to filthy establishments such as this to make small talk with a lowly male."

"I want you," he snarled. "We are to become mates."

"Har har har," she roared. "You are challenging me? I will break you, male."

"Hmm, we shall see," he said. He swiped at her mug, sending it flying. It clanged against a Ghargonian's head, who protested but was too drunk to do anything about it. Ulsarius' gaze followed the mug's trajectory, and then snapped back on him. Her gaze narrowed and she pulled her lips up, bearing her vicious teeth.

"You have made a mistake, male," she snarled. "When I am through with you, you will be lucky if a Wildercat would have you as a mate."

With that, she launched off her bench, slamming her palms into Gorbgan's chest. He almost fell over, winded, as she came to her feet behind him and brought her leg into his back. As he piled into the wall face-first, he felt her hands thud into his back and pin him to the wall. One of her arms slipped around his neck and tightened, bending his head backwards.

"Perhaps now you will reconsider?" she mocked. "Perhaps I should kill you and become Ghargon; you are obviously not the strongest of us."

"We... *cough* we shall see..." he spluttered. Bending his knee, he placed his foot firmly underneath her and pushed. At the same time, he pushed back from the wall and violently leaned forward, holding her arm at his neck. Her feet left the ground and she flipped right over his head. Her back slammed into the wall and then she dropped to the ground headfirst. She collapsed in a heap on the floor, slightly dazed. Gorbgan walked up and down beside her, wiping a trickle of blood from his mouth.

"I wonder if you are really a female," he said, grinning. "I thought females were powerful warriors. You are... you are nothing!"

She took little encouragement. Raising her legs into the air she span around, flipping into the air and landing on the wooden floor with a thud. Unfortunately for her, that was exactly what Gorbgan had wanted. His leg was already in the air. On the first rotation he clipped her head, knocking her backwards slightly. He span around and finished it, planting his foot in her chest on the second rotation. She was knocked from her feet and landed on her back -- hard.

She opened her eyes to see Gorbgan looking over her.

"As I said," he snarled. "We are to become mates."

Gorbgan gestured at one of the seats, and Ulsarius reluctantly sat down. These were the hard metal chairs of the Imperium Palace. No cushions, just bare metal. To cushion oneself is to grow lazy, was the Ghargonian belief. Their beds were similarly sparse.

"You have proven yourself to be a worthy mate," she said as Gorbgan sat down at the other end of the table. "But I am curious as to why you would challenge me, daughter of one of your enemies. Do you not already have enough problems? Or are you just using me to anger him, to provoke him?"

"You are the strongest female I know," Gorbgan said. He looked up as one of the workers placed a huge plate in the centre of the table. "As such, you are the logical choice. I see no reason why your father's animosity towards me is any relation to you."

"And I see no reason why your quest to antagonise him should involve me either," she growled. They both reached for the plate and tore of a leg of wildercat each, slamming it down in front of them.

"It has nothing to do with it," Gorbgan said, looking the raw meat over. "I desire offspring. I do not trust females. You are the least likely to betray me. That, and you are strong."

"I had heard about Trelos," Ulsarius nodded.

"I have no desire to speak of 'that'," Gorbgan growled, and tore away a chunk of flesh with his curved teeth, swallowing it whole.

"Typical male," she snorted. "Believe yourselves to be brave, but you are cowards when it comes to your own weaknesses."

"My only weakness was in trusting 'it'!" he said abruptly. "It is a weakness I have since repaired. You would do well to remember the lesson I taught Trelos."

"She -- it -- was a traitor," Ulsarius said. "'It' deserved to die. I am not a traitor. I have had access to military information since I was hatched; I have not betrayed our people yet. I have had every opportunity to do so but I have not."

"Perhaps not," Gorbgan said.

"Definitely not," she snarled. "And I will kill you if you suggest it again."

"You... never mind," Gorbgan sighed. "It is of no consequence."

"You are not as the tales suggest," she said after a long pause. "I was expecting a twelve foot Verkosaur, but here you are. Ghargonian."

"I know not how to be anything else," he said quietly.

"As a Ghargonian, you have weaknesses," she said. "We all have weaknesses. The challenge is in finding them. And destroying them. But Trelos was not your weakness."

"As Ghargon I am responsible for all the warriors of this Imperium," he said. "If I allow my own mate to send closely guarded information to mammals, of all things, how is that not a weakness?"

"It was a weakness," she nodded. "Not yours, though. It is expected that you be able to trust your mate even in combat. You must fight side-by-side, back-to-back... the ultimate battle group. When a soldier betrays another, who gets executed?"

"The traitor," Gorbgan said. "But..."

"But nothing," she hissed. "When you turn around in a battle, you should see your mate standing behind you, slaying your enemies. When you turned around, your mate had fled the battle to save herself. She was a weakling and a coward. Her death was too quick for her crimes."

"This is why," he nodded.

"Why what?"

"Why I challenged you and not someone else," he said. "You are a true warrior; you understand strength, honour and combat. Trelos was an upper-class amateur. She didn't even know the basics of hocket."

"The rewards of having a great General for a father," she grinned. "I have a taste for blood. If you would like, I will show you what it is like to be humiliated in hocket."

"That sounds like a challenge, female," Gorbgan hissed, though not aggressively.

"On the contrary," she said. "I promise I will humiliate you."

"Very well," Gorbgan said, standing. "I will try to rid you of your over-confidence, but I may need to defeat you many times. Follow me, there is an arena down the hall." He tore the remainder of the flesh off the Wildercat bone and tossed it to the floor, and led Ulsarius out of the room.

Postak looked up as a soldier burst into his office unannounced. The Ghargonian shocktrooper skidded to a halt in front of Postak's metal desk and slammed his arm against his chest in a salute.

"What is it? Why have you disturbed me?" Postak growled calmly.

"I have news," the shocktrooper said. "Your daughter, Ulsarius."

"What about her, Seventh?" he asked.

"I have heard word that she was seen in a reekhouse, in Verkash district," the shocktrooper told him.

Postak sighed and stood up, walking around the desk and placing his clawed hands on the shocktrooper's shoulders.

"Seventh, Ulsarius has been into many reekhouses in her lifetime," he said patronisingly. "I know nothing of the one in Verkash district that would make it any different to the others."

"Our Great Ghargon was in there, sir," Seventh spluttered. "The Slayer of Kree!"

Postak stepped back, suddenly interested.

"Gorbgan was in there, was he?" he said thoughtfully. "Speak, what have you heard?"

"They were fighting," Seventh continued. "Gorbgan and Ulsarius were fighting. Patrons I interviewed suggested that Gorbgan had initiated a mating challenge -- and he won. They left together."

Postak's eye twitched. If he'd clenched his jaws together any harder he would have needed surgery on his gums to get his teeth unstuck.

"Out," he snarled. He didn't want to take his anger out on the soldier who had done nothing wrong, but he may if he stayed any longer. Seventh looked confused, but then noticed Postak's clenched fists and quickly left the room, saluting as he backed out.

As soon as the door closed, Postak threw his head back and roared a terrifying, deafening roar. He slammed his arm down onto his metal desk so hard that it bent, so far that it almost trapped his arm in the crease that formed. He calmed himself slightly, and reached for the now-tilted panel mounted on the end of his desk.

"Contact my daughter," he said. "Instruct her to come here, now."

"But sir, we have..."

"NOW!" he snarled, and shut off the panel so hard sparks flew.

Gorbgan thinks he can humiliate me and my daughter, does he? he thought. I'll fix this...

OOC: More! More! MOre! *chants* I want more! *wishes there was some hyperactive Jumping up and down smiley.*

It is really good. I am glad this is not a diplomatic function. I would hate to see how they are when trying to be friendly with their neighbors.

OOC: Thanks. Heh, they try not to deal with their neighbours, not face-to-face anyway. Xenophobic as a deer. Deers are xenophobic. Yeah they are. Well you know, whatever. They are restrained when talking to foreigners, if uncomfortable. They recognise that some cultures don't share their beliefs, however 'weak' that makes them.

OOC: My Slivers are just the opposit, bright and eager to learn, as well as friendly. They aren't naive though. If you ever want a meeting...

Ulsarius strode through the military headquarters, snarling at soldiers who got in their way. Immediately they jumped to the side to allow her past. The corridors of a Ghargonian military base were sparse, ugly things. Bare sheets of metal with metal mesh floor plating was the decoration of choice, with the odd panel welded in somewhere along the way. The white lights that hung overhead weren't soft exactly, but they weren't bright either.

She slammed her hand into the door and knocked it open. Postak stood beside a holographic display with his hands behind his back, and he calmly turned to look at her.

"My daughter," he said, snarling. "What have you done to yourself?" He looked at a slash on the side of her face.

"My business is just that, father," she said. "MINE!"

"Your business is only your business when it doesn't affect me," Postak growled. "Why do you look to humiliate me? Have I done something to you?"

"Humiliate you?" Ulsarius snorted. "You're quite capable of doing that yourself."

"Do you know what Gorbgan is?" Postak shouted. "He is a collaborator with mammals! That's what he is. He brings disgrace to our people with his petty curiosities. I'm surprised he doesn't have a pet human in his throne room."

"What are you talking about?" Ulsarius said. "His mate was the traitor, not he. And we both know her fate."

"He hasn't betrayed us," Postak shook his head. "He has just... weakened us. You really do not know, do you?"

"Know what you old fool?"

"Do you know what he has poor Captain Grak doing on Earth?" Postak asked. "He has standing orders from the Ghargon himself to... to... 'mingle' with the humans there. He is forced to go to trivial conferences, to talk to them when he has an opportunity, he even had to offer them help when they were attacked by offworlders. It... it is disgusting! And you associate yourself with him?"

"He defeated me in combat, he has proven himself strong regardless of his affiliations," Ulsarius shook her head.

"You might catch some sort of human disease from him," Postak said. "Or the smell of them on him may kill you slowly. He may even have you meet one of them."

"I am sure he has reasons for his interest," Ulsarius snapped. "None of which are my concern. He proved himself in a challenge and I will not go against tradition. Would you?"

"He is the one who is against tradition," Postak shouted. "He walks over two million years of history! We should be annihilating the primitives before they gain a technology that is ahead of them, not talking to them!"

"Like I said, I'm sure he has his reasons," Ulsarius said. "I am done with you, father, unless you wish to face your final challenge a few decades early."

She turned to leave.

"I must warn you, dear hatchling," Postak said slyly as she reached for the door . "One way or another, I will stop you disgracing yourself and your heritage."

"Do what you must," Ulsarius snorted, pulling the door open and leaving. She slammed the door, leaving Postak to his thoughts.

"My father intends to challenge you," Ulsarius said after a long pause. She stood in front of the Ghargon's throne, having requested an audience with him. "He says you humiliate me and my family by 'collaborating' with humans."

"It was expected, although not welcomed," Gorbgan nodded solomnly.

"Is he accurate?" Ulsarius asked. "Do you consort with mammals?"

"I have what some would call an 'unhealthy' curiosity in the mammals that call themselves humans, yes," Gorbgan nodded. "I do not collaborate with them, however."

"Why?"

"I am not prepared to discuss that," Gorbgan snapped, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. "You have done well in telling me of your father's betrayal of the Imperium, however. I am beginning to trust you."

"I have a request," Ulsarius said.

"Speak."

"Do not kill him," she said. "Spare his life."

"You wish me to humiliate him and make myself appear weak?" Gorbgan snorted. "Out of the question!"

"He should be killed by his eldest hatchling," she said. "As it was meant to be. He has only a few decades of life left. Demote him if you wish, but do not kill him."

"I will consider it," Gorbgan said gruffly. He looked up, pulling his hooded robe back as someone walked towards the throne.

"I apologise for the intrusion, my Lord," the Ghargonian said, bowing his head. "I have just been informed that four males, three Ghargonians and a Gerash, have broken into a military facility."

"So?" Gorbgan snorted. "Deal with it!"

"I thought you may wish to know, sir, that the four criminals have stolen the Bladeship," the officer said, cowering. "Ordinarily we would simply allow them to retain the ship, as they would have earned it. But the Bladeship is very important to our war against the Kree, my Lord."

"Where are they now?" Gorbgan asked.

"The Bladeship entered shift mode about five greesers from Outpost 371, sir," the officer said. "Once it entered shift mode we lost contact, but we have a projected course to follow."

"Take three capital ships and track them down," Gorbgan snapped. He hopped down from his throne and grabbed the officer by the throat, lifting him almost two feet off the ground with just one hand. "If I hear of such a lapse in security again, I will kill you and find someone to replace you as chief of security here. Perhaps... a certain General?" He looked at Ulsarius and grinned.

He tossed the officer to the ground casually and motioned towards the exit.

"Come on," he sighed. "Come with me; show me how four men were able to get past the First Shocktrooper Division and the planetary defences... Ulsarius, I will speak with you later."

The Ghargonian officer scrambled to his feet and led the Ghargon out of the throne room. Ulsarius watched them leave and sighed, following them out.