NationStates Jolt Archive

For centuries, Chronosia has been known as a cursed land, a dead land, a land that carried its foul taint beyond the stars, where it consumed its once proud people. It is a land of the walking dead, of the tormented living; of insane spirits of Chaos and rage. It is a land gone mad. Markus Von Carstein is not the only ancient being to walk Chronosian soil; and tread the stars with his mortal, now Daemon, descendanrt Marcus De Drakan....

Millenia ago, when the world was new, the Uratha, the Werewolves, tell of how Father Wolf (their mythic progenitor) hunted the great Spinner-Hag. Upon death, she split her essence into countless shards; imbedded in the eggs that would become her children...

They are the Azlu.

Whether they be the smallest of the crawlers, or the largest hybrid Azarath, they are cunning and deadly. These fiends which slip into human heads to consume the brain, the knowledge and memories, and control the hapless corpse; or to coccoon their hosts and merge with them, to form inhuman spider beings; humanity twisted by their malign essence.

Always they seek to spin their webs, to thicken the gauntlet and usurp power for themselves; to consume, to indulge their own fetid desires and hungers...That is their goal. Upon abandoned stations and on derelict ships; in the depths of the Kronos mountains, or the darkest hearts of cities; they weave; tightening the barrier between spiritual and physical, draining the life from the areas.

Now these dark beings slip free of their borders; waiting; watching; trying to reach out and consume; to corrupt others, and spread their dark brood. Through the ministrations of the crones; new Azlu eggs are spawned, birthed by these bloated mother beings...

And so; with chitinous claw they reach out; and the time of the Spider is upon us...

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~Tag~ This seems interesting Chron.

Magister Nicholas Cossades was having some slight problems.
He had been told to go to Chronosia and attempt to establish another branch of the Great Library, overall a simple task that merely involved building a library and throwing enough books into it.
There was a problem, mostly it was the fact that one of his ships crystals had ruptured for some unkown reason and his ship was now in what is frequently called a 'death spin'. Magister Nicholas might have refered to it as a 'Rotating Vortex of Unpleasantness', had he been on the outside.
He had set his Thaumaturgists to work, wildly broadcasting messages for help to Chronosia, the bridge was buzzing with CB-messages, the interactions between the crystals creating a fuzz around everything.
Most of them were similar to this:

"Attention Chronosian docking authorities or anybody else, we have a problem here. One of our ships...po-wer co-res has ruptured and we are now out of control, we request assitsance, towing would be nice. If not, well, we might end up crash landing on your planet and your environmentalist faction (if it exists) would not be happy about that. Neither would we, for that matter."

Whether or not they would get help was up in the air in any case, the CB might not even be able to transmit far enough on its reduced power, and the sight of a second class Ship of the Line spinning through the great void might cause any assistance to die of laughter or shock before they could save the ship.

The orbitting docking station shifted on its axis; an older model; a disused and abandoned facility; yet the closest to the goblins. And, it would appear, something lived in those dark depths.

A transmission crackled into being, echoing over the airwaves; vibrating through space, till it reached the ears of the goblins.

"Sanctuary can be found here; we will provide facilities. We repeat; facilities can be found here for docking. Engage docking maneuvers and tractor beam"

The beam enveloped the ship; dragging it closer with raw power; the ancient systems whirring; as crawling vermind scuttled in the corridors; and deep in the shadows, something lurked; bloated and hungry.

"Go my children; make ready; the Gauntlet thickens! Our great work grows!" Through greasy mandibles, protruding from human lips; it snickered, grotesquely chuckling.

"The time is now..."

The Bridge of the ICS Exetar, Eastern Fringe
Captain Valador surveyed the hologram from his chair, the endless star systems ahead. The Battlecruiser ICS Exetar was on a routine border patrol, but nothing much seemed to be happening. Then suddenly, the Communications Officer spoke, "Captain! I have just recieved a transmission from the limits of our Communications!" He played the Blood Moon message.

"Hmm... Near Chronosia..." the Captain thought aloud. "Well, even if they are goblins, they seem to be in trouble. Put me on a link to them.

When the CO complied, Valador spoke, [i]"Greetings. This is Captain Valador, Mage of the 3rd Degree, of the Imperial Caladonnian Navy. We have heard your call for aid and are coming to your assistance. Please stand by"

The warp calculations finished, the Battlecruiser entered a microjump, and was soon near the Blood Moon ship.

Activating a secondary docking beam; the station; hovering overly the largely uninhabited Chronosian world, turned its gaze towards the Caladonn ship. It's energies flodded forth through space; encapsulating both vessels; attempting to bring them into its embrace. The Human on the bridge waited, something moving within her mind; brain taken by the Crawler, turning her into little more than a preserved puppet. She smiled softly, as her voice once again echoed through the communications channels.

"For your own safety we are bringing you in, to be confined in the artificial gravity of the station while repairs are made. We ask that you proceed to our docking bays. We insist upon it..."

"Sir! The Chronosian station is attempting to pull us in!" said one of the officers.

"Curse them! Shields up, activate weapons systems, get me on a line to them!" said the Captain.

Once the commlink was established, he spoke through it, "Attention Chronosian station: release your docking beam. We do not need repairs. We are standing by for the moment, but any hostile action by you will be deemed an act of war."

[Tag, will be interesting]

(OOC: *is Blood Moon* just so ya know)

"Magister, the Chronosians are pulling us in, we should be able to repair soon. I hope." A young Thaumaturgist, perhaps twenty, was focused intently on his crystal. It was cloudy within the station, apparently he couldnt get anything. "It worries me though Magister, I cant get any reception within the station. Either the planets buggering the thing up, or somebody is blocking us somehow. And I dont think these guys even know what a CB is, or else they would have one, I think"

"Dont worry, Coms," (The Magister seldom bothered to learn peoples names, they were all so short lived an unimportant, after all) "If they do decide to try anything, they will be in for a suprise. But do make sure that the main crystals are set to detonate, just in case you know, and keep a Barrier spell up constantly, you never know."

The ship proceded along the Chronosian docking beam, behind it a steady stream of leaked magic caused a passing asteroid to suddenly turn into a flight of pigeons, which imploded on themselves in a most amusing manner.

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OOC:
From the 'all techs' tag, I take it this is happening around Earth?

OOC: Kinda; it can happen in the Chronosian Empire, on Earth. Or in abandoned ships, stations, outposts of the Imperium, in Space. If you like :)

Tag.

Kanuckistani Adventurers' Guild corvette KAGV Beer & Ammo

Alexander stifled a yawn, hot mug in hand as he took his place in the captain's chair; "Report," the three meter tall wolven creature muttered, dull lupine claws idly trying to smooth a stuborn bit of fur.

"Morning, boss," the petite vixen befor him responded from the helm, "Oh, same ol', same ol'; nothing you didn't... huh..." she paused, trailing off; one hand touching the antiquated ear-bud cliped to her right ear.

"'sup Jaz?" the lupine asked, tilting it's head in query.

"Eh? Oh," Jasmine blinked, blushing under her fur; clawed didgets suddenly playing across her console as she spoke, "Seems there's a station in orbit that's taken to tractoring passing ships; it's... yeah, we'll be passing it in another two minutes n' change - call it five hundred kays closest aproach."

Alex nodded, sipping his cocoa as he settled back, "Keep an eye on 'em; might be a good show."

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