NationStates Jolt Archive

“Then he looked upon the world, and all that he saw was his.”
-Laila, Generian Folk Tale

He was indeed the almighty, as all who echoed his name would tremble with fear and reverence. Such was the way in which the Empire would invoke her will. One man who held the key to the entirety of his systems, dominions, all mere etches in the annals of his personal history.

He knew it in his heart, knew most certainly that he was the incarnation of all that was divine. It had been the divine that had led them here those hundreds of years ago, the divine that had preserved their tradition, brought them not only life, but prosperity and might.

Now it was that he stood over the world, over the frozen tundra that made his castle, his palace of endless pleasure that came only from complete control of one’s fate, and the destiny of others. He drank deeply of the sight as he stared from the great window to the frozen, arctic wind swept tundra below. So was Generia Prime, a wasteland to the casual observer, the heart of civilization to her citizens.

This world was indeed the soul of the Imperium, the nexus of Imperial power, consolidated all in the fist of a man, an extraordinary man. This world was a seat of high culture, wealth, taste. All merely fineries that hid the masochistic nature of the true Generian.

To his eyes, the waste below was a beautiful sight. The raw element that had brought his people to where they were today, taught them, hardened them, forced them to adapt to the harsh world.

He moved his hand out as if to brush the surface lightly, to dust the perpetual ice off and reveal the grey stone that dwelt far beneath. As his hand came into contact with the energy barrier, the window rippled and distorted the landscape, a shimmering like water.

He wondered at this, how frail this gateway to the world seemed, yet it was the only thing protecting the Citadel from the 12 gale force winds and the icy temperatures that could freeze a man’s blood in his veins in less than seven seconds.

It was a dark world, the deathly appearance of the frozen surface augmented by the near perpetual night that engulfed it due to the sheer distance from the rather undersized sun around which Generia Prime revolved.

He removed his hand slowly, and turned away from the window, turned back to his chamber, the warmth and comfort a sharp contrast from the frozen Hell outside. His robes flowed as if they were of liquid, a deep black cloth inlaid with some foreign element of a distant provincial world that made them look as if they bled a dark red color.

His mouth was set in a stern scowl, his piercing steel eyes seeming to hide a darker nature. From his waist there hung two sabers, traditions of the ancient trade. One was short, one longer, each scabbard and hilt intricately decorated, each blade razor sharp, clean. There hung also at his waist a stranger weapon, a saber not of metallic blade, but solely of energy. A blade he had trained from his youth to wield, one that he longed again to use.

He was a man aged by his position, and the trials and tribulations precursing his ascension. Now it was that he held the Empire in his fist, and if his hand were to crack, all of Generia would break free. But he did not see this as a question of responsibility. He quite enjoyed the powers of the divine that went with the position. The dominions were his, and yet he thirsted for satisfaction, that which came only through blood and brutal conquest.

So it was that Emperor Alexei XXI, sovereign lord of mighty Generia and her dominions passed the first moments of the morning, musing on the roots power and his own divinity. The demi-god at last decided it an apt time to begin the day’s affairs, and so approached the enormous double doors at the ends of the chamber.

He threw them open and stepped into the great Imperator’s Chamber, a windowless room where the shadows of the dark world played endlessly upon the walls. There in the center of the chamber sat a gilded throne. On either side of the aisle, the Imperial Praetorian White Guardsmen stood at attention, rifles strapped to their backs, ceremonial bladed weapons crossed before them.

They were masked, as all Praetorians, encased by GIESAS armored suits, these particular models white with a silvery sheen, the emblem of the White Guard emblazoned on the chest. The cold black eyes of the face masks stared straight ahead as the Emperor walked by, total discipline embedded in every muscle of each soldier’s body.

Alexei reached the throne and sat down. A man approached the throne, and bowed deeply.

“Divine One.”

“Chancellor Varus. What have you for me?”

“Your word sways the opinions of man and deity alike.”

“Indeed. The system bows to my will.”

The Emperor’s eyes took on a distant look.

“Lord?”

“It has been far too long, Chancellor.”

“Forgive me, Divine One, I know not of what you speak.”

“The last wars of unification ended many years ago. Since then, what opportunity have our great legions had to spill the blood of our enemies?”

“But Lord, our enemies are long vanquished. The old order fell at the behest of you and your brothers. The great triumph was made complete by your hand.”

“And my hand grows eager, eager to once again draw saber to spill blood for the Empire. The Empire hungers for a new expansion, her soldiers thirst for blood and trophies.”

“Then Lord, what would you have us do?”

“If we are unified and have no enemies at home, then this only strengthens us. Perhaps we must now look to other systems to fuel the great conflagration.”

“Divine One, your armies shall do eagerly as you command.”

“This I know. The armies of the Empire are not to be trifled lightly with. In time we shall make certain that they get the exercise they deserve. The chill winds shall blow far and wide.”

tag for a later post

Bridge of the World Cleanser Imperium

The World Cleanser was traveling alone for once. Mainly it was searching for more planets to 'cleanse', and populate with the Legions of Doom. The commander of the vessel, Darth Malack, right-hand man and apprentice to Emperor Helldawg VI, was sitting upon the bridge of his ship. Inside the vessel, the temperature was 300 degrees celcius, perfectly comfortable for a Dooman. There was an erie red glow about the corridors and rooms in the vessel, further tainting its look.

Upon his great, throne-like command chair, Lord Malack surveyed the system they had just entered.

"Hmmm, nothing but frozen waste lands. We must cleanse these vial places, brothers."

The other men all nodded in agreement. They headed over to the largest planet in the system...

"My lord, I'm picking up shield emissions eminating from the surface of this world."

"Hmmm..."

Nothing could be this cold. Nothing. Never in his eighty years had he felt such iciness in his veins. And yet...
“Helmsman, report condition of environment.”
His grim-faced companion looked up, seemingly bored.
“All systems functioning normal, Chieftain. Temperature’s actually a bit up, as you requested half a zerl ago.”
This troubled the old one. What could possibly be ailing him? The Spirits had not warned him of an approaching death, as they did all of his high order when it came their time to join their ancestors. Perhaps...

The Bloodrage? Could it be dying in his heart? All of the Chieftain’s kind held some amount of the demonic influence, but the War Chief had taught them how to block it out until it was needed. The Bloodrage had transformed his people into mindless savages, bent on destruction and pillage. However, since the War Chief had lead them to fight back against their masters, the Bloodrage had been all but forgotten. The Chieftain knew that the Bloodrage was demonic in origin...but he doubted his chances of survival without its nourishing energies. Had this cold been what his ancestors felt...before the attack of the Legion? He sought out the Spirits to answer his question, but none could be found in the Void.
“Helmsman, lay in a course. Closest world. I must commune with the Spirits.”
“Of course, Chieftain. I shall inform the fleet.”

Twelve Orcish Dis’troyahs dropped out of the Nether and back into normal space. A large vessel was far off the port bow, but the Chieftain did not care. His small expeditionary fleet made an immediate turn and headed to the ice ball that was Generia Prime.

OOC:Notice this thread is labeled "closed", and I'm pretty sure you weren't invited.

OOC:Notice this thread is labeled "closed", and I'm pretty sure you weren't invited.
Aw nuts. Sorry, I'm usually quite good about that. Well...can I be invited? Otherwise I'll just delete that post.

Aw nuts. Sorry, I'm usually quite good about that. Well...can I be invited? Otherwise I'll just delete that post.

((OOC: You sound interesting. I'll make an exception and let you in, even though it is closed. To the rest of you slackers, don't expect such a warm welcome.

“You have heard of these beasts then, these destroyers of worlds?”

“Lord, up until now they existed to me only as idle story, the talk of rogues in backworld colony bars. Now, however, it would seem…”

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

Bridge of the Imperial Reaper Dominion

Lord Admiral Destus Varus stood on the bridge of the enormous Imperial warship, his hands clasped behind his back. With his one good eye he studied the massive object that had recently entered the system. It was nearly twice the size of his own ship, and God only knew what its purpose was.

“What the hell is it, Lord?”

Lord Varus remained silent, a scowl engraved on his face.

“They are here. Then they seek fresh blood. They will have none of it. Attempt communication."

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

Twelve Orcish Dis’troyahs dropped out of the Nether and back into normal space. A large vessel was far off the port bow, but the Chieftain did not care. His small expeditionary fleet made an immediate turn and headed to the ice ball that was Generia Prime.

Three moderately sized vessels, Imperial Hunters, recognizing the sudden appearance of the alien fleet, moved in to make contact with the strangers. A looped message was sent out over the airwaves.

"Attention foreign vessel, you have violated a protected Imperial system. State your intentions, or prepare to be engaged."

OOC: I've always wanted to do a FT RP, can I join in Generic or have you closed it off for now?

((OOC: Closed off for now, but you can get in later.))

*Tag*

OOC: :( , Okay just tg me when you open it up, i'll delete these posts after you reply.

((OOC: Will do.))

tag for later entry

(OOC: May I join later, please? This thread kicks ass.)

(OOC: May I join later, please? This thread kicks ass.)

((OOC: Sure.))

Bridge of the Helldawg

"Lord Malack, I'm detecting several other vessels." said the ops officer.

"Hmmm," muttered Malack, shoving the officer out of the way to check on the readings. "Some primitives, and some other ships...possibly the surface dwellers. Order the Marines to be ready, raise shields. Charge the weapon." he said with a twisted smirk.

In the corridors of the dark vessel, Doom Marines marched in step towards their boarding pods. They wore shinny black MJLONIR armor, their plasma rifles glowing an erie blue in the darkness to match the red glow of the heat generaters that were built into the walls.

"M'lord, they're attempting to communicate."

"Oh? This shall be interesting. On screen."

"Lord, we've made contact."

"Good. Still, arm up and ready the Praetorians. Just in case."

In the cold belly of the great vessel, the Imperial Praetorian Guardsmen assembled, and moved to their emergency stations. The dim red light bathed their silver armor, and reflected in the black and red emblems of the Imperium emblazoned on the helmets and chests of the warriors.

On the bridge the admiral stepped forward before the large screen. He was comfortable in the icy air, tailored to suit the Generians, especially those like him, born and bred on Generia Prime. his face was stern and emotionless as he spoke.

"Alien vessel, you have violated a Generian Imperial protected system. State your intentions, or expect retalliation."

Generian? That sounds awfully farmiliar. Lord Revan may wish to make contact with these weaklings...

Malack turned to the Generian. His skin was of a distorted grey color, almost scaley looking. His eyes were red, and his black armor glistened against the red light, making an erie aura about him. At his side sat his lightsaber, the mark of a force user.

"I am Darth Malack, emissary of the Empire of Doomingsland. We have no hostile intention. You said you were Generian? As in the Generians who once inhabitted Earth?"

Admiral Varus eyebrow raised at the mention of Earth.

"We are very much one in the same."

Most disturbing.

"Then, if you know of the history of your people, you should recognise this symbol." he said, turning, showing a Golden Skull emblem embedded on the right arm of his armor.

Most disturbing.

"Then, if you know of the history of your people, you should recognise this symbol." he said, turning, showing a Golden Skull emblem embedded on the right arm of his armor.

Lord Varus cocked his head back slightly, and a subtle grin crossed his face.

"Then you made it off."

He turned to the officer standing beside him.

"Captain, tell the Praetorians to stand down."

He turned back to the screen.

"The Lord Emperor will be most fascinated by this. Should your intentions remain peaceful, I presume you shall be given free passage through this system."

"I speak for my Lord, who would be most interested in making contact with your people. In fact, his father knew Alexei I."

"Lord Alexei will be equally interested in making contact. For the moment, I extend the invitation for you to remain in our system for as long as it pleases you, until the Emperor can personally send his greetings."

The Lord Admiral turned to the officer at his side.

"Inform Lord Alexei that the Doomans have once again found the Generians."

"Aye, milord."

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

"The tales from before the exodus speak of them as fearless warriors, destroyers of all in their path. In truth, they were the only group of people capable of standing in combat beside the Generian armies. Now, their presence is indeed welcome. Perhaps the old alliance may be reforged?"

"Divine One, an alliance with the burning legions of Doom would be most beneficial to your plans."

"Indeed, Lord Chancellor. Let us make contact with Emperor Helldawg to discuss the matter."

OOC: Can I post my history?

"Very well, I shall contact my master." he said, ending the transmission. The Emperor already knew of the meeting through the Force, for the meeting of the old allies caused a great disturbance. He himself was on his way to meet with the Generian emperor to allign himself once more with his old allies.

His father had made a bloodpact with Alexei I, and he intended to carry it on.

OOC-"Burning Legions" of Doom...hmm... I may have an RP idea for doomingsland and I later on...
*plot plot plot*


IC


"Chieftain! Some surface dwellers are attempting to achieve contact!"
"Open a channel, Doromak. Let me speak with them."
"Just a moment, Chieftain..." the Orcish communications officer said as he fiddled with a few of his primitive instruments. The Orcs used a sort of telempathy to communicate amongst one another whilst traveling through space, but possessed crude radio equipment for such encounters. The communications officer roared in frustration, smashing his melon-sized fists on the console. This, ironically enough, caused the machinery to spring to life.
"Channel...open, Chieftain. You may speak."
Though he couldn't see the Generians, he knew they could see him via holographic transmitters. He bared his tusks and barked in an Orcish way, a gesture much like a handshake to the people of the Horde.
"Throm'ka (hail), native vessels. I am Morg Stonewolf, Chieftain of the Rexxar and high shaman of the Horde. We are a simple people, and wish you no harm. However, I require a personal visit to the nearest habitable planet in order to commune with the Spirits. Their voices are oddly silenced in the void, and I have no other option. Please, this could be a matter of life and death."

At the War (tactical) Console, the Kul'jamais the Troll stared at the Doomian vessel. Something seemed...familiar...about it. He just couldn't quite place it...

OOC: Can I get involved yet?

OOC:Yeah, I liked Warcraft 3, too.

OOC-"Burning Legions" of Doom...hmm... I may have an RP idea for doomingsland and I later on...
*plot plot plot*


IC


"Chieftain! Some surface dwellers are attempting to achieve contact!"
"Open a channel, Doromak. Let me speak with them."
"Just a moment, Chieftain..." the Orcish communications officer said as he fiddled with a few of his primitive instruments. The Orcs used a sort of telempathy to communicate amongst one another whilst traveling through space, but possessed crude radio equipment for such encounters. The communications officer roared in frustration, smashing his melon-sized fists on the console. This, ironically enough, caused the machinery to spring to life.
"Channel...open, Chieftain. You may speak."
Though he couldn't see the Generians, he knew they could see him via holographic transmitters. He bared his tusks and barked in an Orcish way, a gesture much like a handshake to the people of the Horde.
"Throm'ka (hail), native vessels. I am Morg Stonewolf, Chieftain of the Rexxar and high shaman of the Horde. We are a simple people, and wish you no harm. However, I require a personal visit to the nearest habitable planet in order to commune with the Spirits. Their voices are oddly silenced in the void, and I have no other option. Please, this could be a matter of life and death."

At the War (tactical) Console, the Kul'jamais the Troll stared at the Doomian vessel. Something seemed...familiar...about it. He just couldn't quite place it...

Captain Lucius Ar-Destus wrinkled his lip in disgust at the sight of the primitive beast. Still, he fought back his repulsion at the inferior, and maintained his official tone.

"Very well. Proceed to Generia Prime, nova-Port Belgrade docking bay 17, and await instruction."

The Imperial Hunters took up escort positions around the primitive fleet, making sure that they kept their intentions peaceful.

The orcish fleet achieved a stable orbit around the planet as a zeppelin-class transport disembarked from the Rexxar. The transport carried the Rexxar's chieftain, three of his assistant shamans, and a battalion of tauren guards. The massive, bovine tauren were the elite shock troopers of the Horde, serving to lay waste to vast ranks of the enemy and spread chaos through what remained. The zeppelin landed without a hitch. As the moss-covered ramp lowered, the aged shaman and his acolytes descended, flanked by the elite guard.
"Chieftain, I see no one here. Should we simply attempt to commune here?" asked an acolyte.
"The Spirits are here, young one, but not in force. We must wait to be escorted to a more wild area. Patience. It is one of the totems, and it is time you be true to your training."

The orcish fleet achieved a stable orbit around the planet as a zeppelin-class transport disembarked from the Rexxar. The transport carried the Rexxar's chieftain, three of his assistant shamans, and a battalion of tauren guards. The massive, bovine tauren were the elite shock troopers of the Horde, serving to lay waste to vast ranks of the enemy and spread chaos through what remained. The zeppelin landed without a hitch. As the moss-covered ramp lowered, the aged shaman and his acolytes descended, flanked by the elite guard.
"Chieftain, I see no one here. Should we simply attempt to commune here?" asked an acolyte.
"The Spirits are here, young one, but not in force. We must wait to be escorted to a more wild area. Patience. It is one of the totems, and it is time you be true to your training."

The doors of the hanger slammed shut, and a voice came over the loudspeaker.

"Attention alien vessel: you have been placed under temporary quarantine for your safety. All occupants are to remain within the vessel until further notice. Failure to comply will result in termination."

One of the tauren, not expecting this, roared and tore a security camera from its post. The shaman, seeing that this could endanger the group, sent a bolt of lightning from his fingertips into the bovine monster. The Purge worked, stunning the startled guard.
"Take him inside!" roared the shaman in orcish to the remaining guard. "All of you, get in there now!"
He turned to what he believed was another security camera.
"Bubhosh aka'thoramar, shara. Orc nub bait krimp uzg. Pagh!" he then stalked inside and raised the ramp, waiting for them to open the doors.

The large door at the front of the hanger slowly slid open, and the loudspeakers crackled to life.

“Attention occupants of alien vessel, please step into the hanger bay immediately.”

As the ramp slid down, and the orks stepped out of the ship, a platoon of Imperial Praetorians marched in through the open bay door, their silver armor glistening, the black eagle of the Imperium emblazoned on their chests. One of the beings, separated from the rest by a distinct symbol on his helmet, the mark of a Captain to those familiar with the Imperial Praetorian Guard, stepped forward, still keeping his distance from the beasts. He spoke, his voice distorted heavily by the voice box in the helmet.

“By order of Emperor Alexei XXI, Divine Lord of the Heavens, you are to be taken into Imperial custody immediately, pending processing. Resistance is futile. Submit and you will not undergo immediate termination.”

The Praetorians raised their pulse rifles, and trained them on the aliens. As they did so, another being approached the door. The temperature seemed to drop thirty degrees as the thing entered the room. With a ragged black cloak covering it’s form, it moved as if shrouded in permanent shadow, seemingly more liquid than man. The being halted behind the ranks of the Praetorians. Though its head was bowed, it saw and felt everything that went on in the room.

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

A thin natural glow blanketed the floor of the Imperial throne room, the only sign of morning on the dark ice rock that was Generia Prime. Emperor Antonius reclined on his gilded throne, the silent ranks of the White Guard standing vigilant along either side of the chamber, in front of the masses of other courtiers who frequented the sacred hall to be in the presence of the Divine One.

With no warning whatsoever, a cloud of red smoke exploded in the center of the room, before the Emperor, and before him stood Emperor Helldawg of the Doomingsland Imperium.

http://www.patriotresource.com/lotr/pics/characters/sauron.jpg

Caught off guard the White Guardsmen raised their rifles and trained them on the Dooman, fingers on the triggers.

Helldawg payed little heed to the Praetorians, merely raising his hand, causing their weapons to generate surges of electricity that would disable their suits and weapons. Now that he'd been there for more than 30 seconds, there was a noticable increase in temperature. The air around him was steaming from evaporation, and he walked towards the throne. Behind him was a trail of charred ground and smoldering ash where his feet had once been.

"I am Helldawg VI, Lord and Emperor of Doomingsland. I come to realign myself with Generia."

Alexei had been overcome by momentary surprise, although he did not show it, though he quickly regained his composure and cold expression, contemplating the man before him.

"It has been long since I have heard the name Doomingsland. Still, it was largely prophesized that one day our peoples would meet again. Your people have changed, Helldawg. Now you scar the land with your mere touch as your armies did in days long past with sword and cannon. Still, the name Doomingsland continues to instill fear, and I see your people have not lost their taste for blood. Neither have we, and now Generia seeks to rebuild her broken Empire."

Alexei stood, and began to descened the steps from his throne.

"Yes, we shall indeed reforge our old alliance, and togethor we shall bring an age of terror and destruction upon the universe as has never been seen before. Let us grow fat on the flesh of our enemies that they may learn to submit rather than to fight, for truly I see a bold new era coming upon us. Do you share my vision?"

"Yes, brother, indeed." he said, extending his hand to Alexei who, in turn gripped it. For that moment, that small area was restored to normal temperature with the mixture of fire and ice. "We have much to discuss."

"Indeed. Leave us!"

The entire assorted congregation left the hall through the two enormous doors at the far end. Alexei led Emperor Helldawg through a different door, down a long straight passage to a more comfortable room where they could discuss in peace.

Helldawg sat down, and began,

"My ally, it has been far too long. I suppose I shall start at the begining. Several thousand years ago, my people discovered the secrets of hyperspace travel. By then, the Earth was nothing but a smoldering pile of rubble, and my people wanted out. So, we constructed a large fleet, large enough for several billion people. The entire nation left. We entered hyperspace, and there was a malfunction, throwing us far off course, into a decrepid section of the galaxy, into a system of burnt, charred worlds. We set down on the largest of them, and found it to be totaly devoid of life. Eventualy, one man discovered a way into the caverns that honeycomb the planet, and we made camp. We began to run low on food, but discovered a brown, mud-like substance that was nourishing. That substance warped us, changed us. Over the period of several hundred years, what were once men were now Doomans. I lived through all of this, for the Force had granted me immortality."

OOC: I will post my history soon, its on my old computer and my new one just had the internet fixed and running both at the same time may cause a surge.

Onboard the Executor Super Star Destroyer

The Super Star Destroyer was gliding through space by itself. It did not need any reinforcements as laser tracking turrets covered the surface of the 12,800 meters long ship. It also hosted hundreds of TIE fighters with it.

In the command center officers and operators where going ahead with there usual work. But there was one person looking through the ship's windows onto a blue frozen planet. He was the leader of the wandering Greek people. His name was Alexander Onassis and his ancestry where once rulers too.

"Emperor Alexander, the frozen planet seems to have life on it. We do not know what kind of life it is."

"We must find out! This is the first time we encounter life. They may be humans but I doubt that since we are the only surviving human race for some unknown reason that the elders hid away from us. Now we cannot know since they are all dead."

"They seem highly advance. Should I send a signal and hope they pick it up if they can think for themselves?"

"Yes. I will personally try and communicate with them."

Communication Signal Being Sent to the planet:

This is Emperor Alexander of the Greeks, the surviving human race. We would like to know if you are humans or some sort of other life form that can think. We come in peace.

"Fascinating indeed. The Empire's rebirth came about in a similar fashion. What became of the Earth is a lengthy tale for a different day, but I shall state simply that we Generians were forced to leave due to certain circumstances. For many centuries we drifted through space. Generations lived and died aboard the Prometheus. We eventually drifted through a wormhole, and the ensuing jump brought us to this system. Unfortunately, the jump also destroyed a good portion of our vessel's systems, and we were forced to risk a landing here, on Generia Prime, or face certain death. The vessel descended through the thin atmosphere quickly, and owing ot hte loss of onboard systems, we crashed into the surface. A stroke of luck this proved, however, as the vessel penetrated several miles into the crust, protecting us from the harsh surface environment.

After discovering the sizeable crater the burnout of our rear thrusters had created, we began tunneling. For many years we did this, expanding the network of caverns and tunnels in all directions, living like moles out of the sun. Salvaging pieces from the craft, we built structures, began researching ways to improve our harsh life. We farmed deep below the surface, using moisture from underground springs to sustain ourselves, until one day we were able to breach the surface, and begin constructing a dome.

Even the sparse light that finds this planet burned our eyes, but we welcomed the coming of the dawn, and we began to build upwards. After we had constructed the highest levels, the secure enclaves of our society, we began construction on what would prove our greatest achievement: The Citadel.

This structure we now find ourselves in, high above the harsh surface of the planet was the result of decades of work, improvement, and lost lives. After its completion, the old system began to fall back into place. The Emperor had never lost his role as leader of the Generian people, but now the traditions, the ceremony had been revived. The order returned, and a new era seemed as promising as ever.

However, far below our great achievements, our bright progress, there remained those who would not dare to venture towards the surface. They feared the light and the restoration of the old order more than the darkness of the caverns. They took up residence in the deepest levels of the old tunnels, plotting the time when they would rise up and strike at the pure ones who wished to see the old ways return.

They came in the night, into the enclaves near the surface, striking at the innocent as they lay in their beds, taking children into the depths of their dark Hell. They had lost the pigment of their skin, evolved into monstrous beasts of massive proportions, or so I hear. Terror became law in the civilized world. But the Emperor and the braver souls refused to be afraid of the cave dwelling maniacs. They began construction of an army. They gleaned the strongest, the most hardened of the enclave citizens for their ragtag militia which would one day become the reincarnation of the feared Imperial Praetorian Guard. We began constructing weapons from salvaged data and mined materials. We forged for ourselves sabers, armor, and rifles.

The enclaves were sealed, and guarded day and night. The beasts were surprised to be repulsed when they attempted raids. finally, the cave dwellers launched an attack en masse. Their forces broke through the barricades, and they strode through the streets, slaughtering indiscriminately until they reached the subterranean entrance to the Citadel. There, a band of 200 warriors staged a defense against the hordes of pale cave dwellers. At the conclusion of the five hour battle, the Generian warriors were victorious, and the cave dwellers fled in horror. My ancestor Emperor Alexei XV had fought valiantly beside his men, but he had met his end by the hand of the beasts.

With that, everything below level 20 was sealed off, and the last of the pale ones were locked forever in their precious darkness.

That marked the beginning of the reborn Empire. Our cities expanded, covering the subterranean areas across the entirety of the planet's surface. for one hundred and fifty years, we found ourselves at peace. We created vessels to explore and protect our new home. We colonized the rest of the system, and discovered several more. But as we explored further, we found ourselves immersed in the ways of the force, and naturally we became divided. War came between us, and we slaughtered each other like dogs for a hundred years more. It was by my hand that the last of the jedi tyrants was vanquished, and the Sith was left in control of the system and her dominions.

Now, we stand ready once again. Our armies are strong, hardened by battle Our vessels are large, powerful, and ready to venture forth in search of new blood. As I said before, I see a new era of conquest, destruction, and subjugation. I will reforge our Empire of old, and we shall stand astride the universe as we once stood astride the Earth."

In 2010 Borman began to send rockets packed with prisoners into space for a game show. Several of these lost their feed and the show never finished on those. Almost all of these crash-landed on what was later to be home to the Borman Empire. It was a land of water, roughly 99% water. The tiny part that was land was more fertile than anything seen on Earth and the population there quickly exploded. As Borman continued to conquer and prosper on Earth the civilization on the water planet was evolving. 90% of the population began to develop gills in addition to lungs and webbed feet and hands.

In 2030 Borman needed more land and attempted to settle the moon. 9 of ten transports were knocked off course by an enemy attack. Two of those 9 were destroyed while the rest landed on the water planet. The new population found a race much like humans, but most had evolved to live in the waters. They began to breed with the race and the population grew even further but there wasn’t enough space to support everyone. In a short time a floating city was developed and launched with many poor people seeking free shelter. It was a roaring success and soon more were made.

In 2040 Earth was being abandoned by every nation possible. Hundreds of ships landed all over. Most of the ships landed on the water planet while some landed on several other planets. One was a planer coated in mountains that in time had cities gracing the sky that seemed to float in the air, another was a planet much like earth but with the opposite ratio of land and water which developed much in the way of Earth (without the computer dictators), the third a planet covered in sand with underground cities and wonders and very few constructions on top to avoid the horrendous sand storms.

On the water planet hundreds of floating cities sprang up to accommodate the vast amounts of people as more things came to shape under the water.

By 3000 the water world had been named Bhalk prime and was a massive place. Hundreds of floating cities dotted the seas as many more buildings graced the bottom of the sea. Above them layers of cities were supported by chains and weights. Most of these cities had air in them so non-evolved people could get to them and breath in them. The thing that Bhalk prime was proudest of was their library, or both of theirs. A massive floating library graced the top of the ocean, the size of nearly the biggest city. It was filled with every piece of literature ever written on Earth, maps, globes, and more. Complete recountings of the history of earth and the history of Borman since abandoning Earth. Below the water on the ocean floor was an even bigger one with all the documents and books land-walkers shouldn’t see.

Technology was massive and ships began to be created that could bring armies to different planets. In 3020 ships began to find other planets and wars were quickly started to bring the 3 other planets of Borman descent under Borman control.

In 3040 while Doom and GE were meeting Borman had brought many systems under their control, although several systems were mainly deserted uninhabitable planets. However most of the involvement of the empire took place in the 4 world founded by Borman descendants.

Borman had taken a vast empire and their armies sat ready to defend or attack at a moment’s notice, but as of yet had nothing to do.

"Interesting indeed. Well, we now control hundreds of systems, and have fought thousands of wars against various foes. All are now subjects of the Empire. All are now Dooman. Now, unlike ancient times, when we would simply mindlessly butcher the population of a conquered nation, we now cleanse their souls. All who fall are converted." he said crypticly.

"Interesting indeed. Well, we now control hundreds of systems, and have fought thousands of wars against various foes. All are now subjects of the Empire. All are now Dooman. Now, unlike ancient times, when we would simply mindlessly butcher the population of a conquered nation, we now cleanse their souls. All who fall are converted." he said crypticly.

Emperor Antonius chuckled knowingly.

"Apparently great minds do indeed think alike. A most fortunate coincidence. There is a party of disgusting alien creatures sealed in our hanger bay. I have dispatched a unit of Praetorians, along with another of my personal henchmen to take them into custody. When they are in our hands, you shall be able to witness firsthand our methods."

Slowly the large Borman explorer ship moved forward. The captain stared out the glass window (Resembling pillar of Autumn from Halo) at the planets and ships in front of him.

A young man ran up and gave him the transmission box.

"Kellar to home, Kellar to home. Anyone read?"

"This is home, what do you need?"

"We have found a new planet, but so have several others. Looks inhabitat and freezing, there are I think ships from 4 different nations, one the size of one of our moons. I don't think we've been seen yet. Send the battleships to us and we'll try to make contact."

Transmission to ice rock:

This captain Kellar of the Osirus. We come in peace depending on who is there. Might we ask who resides in this planet and the nationalities of all these ships? We assure you that warring with us would mean destruction, and allying would mean riches past your wildest dreams.