NationStates Jolt Archive

Rules

1) I created this rp story-line over a time period of three months. I will only let those players who are serious rp’ers participate in this. I don’t want some idiot messing things up.
2) No godmodding allowed, you do it and I will use the Holy Smack Down on you.
3) No player killing unless the two or more participants have agreed before hand and I have been notified in advance.
4) I will be ‘guiding’ the storyline along, I will TG you if for some reason your actions ruin that months of writing I went through
5) Beyond anything else, one Golden Rule stands before all others: Have fun. 
6) No ‘armies’ allowed ok? Just come up with a small group of soldiers or mercs or intelligence group that is after the final treasure. You decide.



Planet Alconda, 5th Galactic Sector, AD 2716

The old man fell once again to the ground. The hard concrete beneath him only reminded him more of his need to continue on. I’m too old for this, he thought to himself. The old man was dressed in a shamble of rags, a small collection of bags and trinkets covered him as well. Slowly he got to his feet. His eyes closed instinctively as the lights from the nearby buildings hit him. He stood once more and remembered where he was, the third largest city on Alconda.

Shaking his head trying to get rid of his dizziness he continued on down the street. He passed women dressed to the bare minimum, men dressed in fancy clothes and dark sunglasses, buildings with signs that flashed advertisements at him. All of it was irrelevant.

“Must get there…can’t stop now…so close,” the old man said to himself. He continued walking for several hours. The dawn was close he knew. Finally after a series of blocks he reached a section of the city where there were no lights. A tall dark abandoned chapel stood, its doors molded and decayed. It seemed as if no one had been there in over a century. The old man smiled. “Hasn’t changed a bit.”

Struggling he walked up the steps and pressed his hand before the door. It gave way before him, and fell to pieces. The old man was startled for a moment. “Damn mold.” Coughing he kicked in the rest of the door and entered. Inside he found the long central hall, its pews on either side still the same as it had been those 70 years before. The dust was kicked up into clouds as the old man walked past the pews, down the center isle. It lay heavily on everything around.

Walking further he came to the raised alter. It was made of limestone, it surface still had its sacramental wine cup and cloth on it, each old and tarnished. Behind the alter stood the large and gray-dust covered organ, its pipes tall and reaching to the high ceiling. Smiling the old man walked around the alter to the organ. “My but haven’t we been sitting for a long time,” the old man said to himself again. He turned around and looked into the center of the main chamber. “Yes, a long time.” He coughed a little harder into his arm and turned back to the organ. He slid his fingers gently over the keys, then pressed down on a certain note.

The organ let forth an eruption of dust and a loud screech sounded at once had been a beautiful deep tone. The note, terribly twisted, sounded in the deep tall hall for a long time. When it finally stopped, another sound came. The sound of grinding stone.

The old man turned to see a dark line appear in the main isle. Slowly the line became bigger until a gap appeared. Low lights appeared from the gap. Smiling the old man hobbled back down from the alter and organ and headed to the gap. There inside was a large stair going strait down. Small lamps hung from the walls at intervals. “Yup, been sitting for a long time.”

Humming to himself the old man hobbled down the stairs. He went 357 steps, just as he remembered, and came to a long hall. At its end was a metal door. Beside it was a small panel, it glowed with different colored lights, its power still running. Smiling broader the old man stepped up to the door, he reached out and began to push a series of buttons, half-way through he stopped and had a fit of coughing. “Not much time.”

He pressed the last button. The door creaked for a moment. The old man smacked it with his fist. It slip open to reveal a large chamber, in its center was a space frigate. A look of lost time entered the old man’s eyes. Never had he felt time pass him further than at that moment. He coughed again. Shaking he quickly hobbled up to the craft.

“Computer, put down the ramp,” he said out loud. A mechanical lens appeared eye level with the old man. A red light appeared and scanned his eye.

“Captain Reimius confirmed. Port ramp lowering. Welcome back Captain,” the ships computer said. The old man waited a moment as the side ramp came down and then walked up into the ship.


He eventually made it to the cockpit, only after getting lost three times on the way. “My memory is getting worse,” he said sardonically to himself. Coughing again he slumped into the captain’s chair. He brought up the side arm computer and opened up a direct comms channel to open space. He began speaking into it.

“To those who are receiving this, I sincerely hope you lack the stupidity that I had as a young man. I am Captain Reimius Adolfus. For 60 years I have searched for the location of a treasure so great that all the wealth of nations pale before it. My life, has been dedicated to the finding of it. But I have failed. I am now too old, and am dieing. My crew who started my journey with me are dead. I can only pray their souls made it to the after-life, if there exists one.

The treasure of which I speak is known by many names, but the one I found first connected to the myth, was the Galactic Leyline. I spent over 20 years researching it. It was believed a myth, something to amuse children before they slept. But I proved those ass holes wrong. I found the Lost Temple, where the records are kept. Its there, beyond the 10 Halls of Time and behind the 10th Door; the Galactic Leyline. It is said that anything that one wishes can be granted there, others say it’s the largest treasure in recorded history of mankind, the collection of wealth of a forgotten race of aliens.

I don’t know for sure. I would like to say that I know…*cough*…but *cough* I don’t. All I know is that Arana leads my path. And now I am lead to my death by her hand. I can only hope that whoever finds this message or receives it will follow the dream that I could not, and will claim the treasure that I never set eyes on. The map to it, is hidden and only Arcanon holds the key, in the 3rd Sector. *cough* I cannot allow for my life to end with nothing. So I give it on…to those who chase my dream, and make it their own.”

The old man pressed the comms button, and the message was sent into open space, to be received by anyone. He laughed and coughed for a moment. “Damn…but I wish I was young again.” It was the last thing he said.

Link
Here the link to the OOC Thread where you can list your men and equipment. Also come up with character profiles. And make sure you make it clear on weapons details, and refrain from making too much OOC comments in this rp thread, other than TAGs, which are fine.

Link: http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=444497

Bump

Waiting rooms had always bored the crap out of him, but the other option was to leave these two subsentinents alone with his ship. He had been told that installing a missile rack was a major operation, but then again he had major money on him. Jack threw down yet another nameless magazine, and mentally went through the method for his next job.

'Get on the Railtrain two blocks away, hide in the underside until target. Remain until checks completed, and disembark as it starts to move. Crawl down the tracks fifty metres and access ventilation system. Proceed to the fifty-first floor and find Hudgesons office...'

He snapped out of it to a grubby hand beckoning for his money, and paid the mechanic. It had cost a bundle, but with both of their backs turned he had grabbed enough to ensure proffit. He smiled, thanked them both and got into his ship. As he took off and headed to his equipment supplier, he found a strange transmission when trying to tune the radio.

Three minutes later he was at his suppliers, buying maps, ship navigation upgrades and enough imperishable food supplies to last a long time. If something like this was up for grabs, he wanted a cut of it.

(Bump)

Commandikan, Commandia, Planet Arifria, 6th sector
The General sat in his cozy chair, watching a good episode of 'The Pimps sons'
When the TV started fritzing. He stood up from his chair, and walked over to the tv. All he was getting was static. He turned outside. The giant TV ad screens in Commandia, plus all the loudspeakers, were also getting static and fritz. He was wondering what happened when an old man's face was on his TV, and his voice was blasted all over Commandikan on the loudspeakers. After hearingthe old man's message, The generals eyes opened wide. The tv had gone back to normal, but the general was at the phone.
"Get me the head of the military!" He yelled into the receiver.
"Uh, sir, that's you." Came the calm reply.
"Oh, eight, sorry." He said and hung up.
He dialed the presiminister, and told him the news.
"Well." replied the presiminister, "It would be improfitable to send a whole army to god knows where that is."
"But, there may be hostile forces wherever we're going."
"So, take a small force, maybe one capital ship should be enough."
"But sir, it would be difficult to get anyone on or off that ship, due to landscape features there might be."
"Then fill it up with a couple raptors, they can go scouting."
"But if we need troops on the ground fast?"
"Hmmm, good point. Take a dropship. 150 men should be enough. oh and make 50 of them recon troops, we might need them. And bring enough supplies for a camp."
"Yes sir."
The news quickly spread to the farthest owners of Commandia, where people tried to get their personal ships to wherever the treasure was, where nobody knew for sure, exept somewhere in the third Sector. Pity for the people who didnt have hyperjump. The two military ships were loaded the next week,each one of the soldier's ready for treasure. The ships would take off in the next hour.

At last, something honorable. Something worthy of a Tkalgren warrior. Once again he listened to the translation of the message he had intercepted. With the utmost care, he transcribed the words of the old human onto a piece of paper, making sure to note inflections and any other hints that might have been hidden in the message. He then leaned back in his pilot's chair and thought about the best course of action. He rose and went to the weapon's locker in his fighter, pulling out and inspecting each of his personal items. Judging by the message, there would be others seeking this treasure. After deciding that he would have to purchase some additional explosive devices when he stopped at the next port, Grenduen strolled back to his pilot seat. He accessed the Rupil Star Charts, the most extensive in the GTK, and began searching for a place to begin his journey. Simultaneously, he made a call to the local GTK traffic authority, he would need to schedule a jump to Thrasian space, where the message had originated.

“Damn but this place smells,” said the policeman. Several other policemen walked around the space ship, checking it and trying to get inside. So far the ship’s computer had not allowed them in.

“Ah, come on Frank, it doesn’t smell that bad!” laughed another cop nearby. Frank shook his head, the place had the smell of decay; and most of all was the sense of something wrong about it. Frank kept feeling this tingling sensation on his neck, the hair sticking up every now and then. He walked over to the side of the ship and clicked on his flashlight.

MARIANA was painted on the side. The policeman who had laughed at Frank stepped over. “Found it did you? We did a back ground check on the name, we found that the ship shot its way out of the space port 30 years ago. 5 security men dead, 7 wounded. The report is old and a bit vague but it mentions the word ‘pirate’ as well, so it’s easy to assume that this is just an old pirate ship that got back here and the crew decided to hide it.”

Frank nodded. “That may be true Philip, but why reveal the location? That transmission that Central caught was fragmented and not fully recorded. I don’t think one of the crew, must be an old person with how this place looks, and would reveal the ship unless he or she thought she had nothing left.”

“Alright Mr. Detective, I will bow down to your infallible wisdom.” Philip laughed. “Anyway this old bucket is being sent to the impound yard, Central wants the Wrench Guys to tear her open and let the tech boys in, something about wanting to check the ships travel log and navigational computer’s history.” Philip bent down over his data board and wrote something. Both of them sighed and turned back to the stairs just as the Chief walked down them.

“Alright boys, we can leave now, I have orders from Central to let Mr. Smith here to take care of the ship. We got another problem in down town.” As he was speaking a tall man in black robes appeared at his side. He had a tall forehead and little hair, his eyes were almost entirely black and his face was like wax. The mood his clothes set was completed by the small gold medallion that hung from his neck, a small pyramid.

Philip and Frank followed the others back up the stairs stepping by Mr. Smith on their way. Just as Frank was passing him Mr. Smith wiped his forehead, revealing for a short time his forearm. The police chief was the last up. When they had come back up into the main chapel area Philip turned to Frank. “I don’t think that guy’s name was Mr. Smith,” he said bluntly. Frank wanted to hit him. “No kidding Philip? I couldn’t tell; of course that’s not his real name. I don’t know what Central has got to do with this, but I saw something strange about that guy. On his arm…there were these strange tattoos. Almost like some sort of writing or something, I’m not sure,” Frank said, angry that he didn’t understand more. The two stepped out of the church and down the limestone steps. Several police hover cars sat on the over-grown lawn. Shrugging Philip got in on the passenger side of Frank and his car. Frank took the drivers seat. “Don’t worry about it buddy, we’re just foot slogging, dirty work police officers. This is not our problem,” said Philip with a small smile. “Now let’s go get drinks real quick before we head down town to sort out those damn skin heads.” Frank nodded and forgot about the ship and the strange Mr. Smith.


Alcondas smiled as the officers disappeared up the steps. There were indeed good things about being a member of a pirate guild. Especially one as old as the one Alcondas belonged to. Smiling still Alcondas stepped over to the ship. A small video lens appeared. “Name and purpose?” asked the ships computer.

Alcondas made a series over motions with his hand. “Undetrignta spiritus obscuri, Segitta magica series obscuri!” A large black ball of energy appeared in front of Alcondas’s hand and then flew into the side door. The small black ball at first entered the door. Then the entire door exploded in a large display of black lighting. Smiling Alcondas walked over to the gap and jumped the 4 meters into the side of the ship.

He entered the ships computer room. Sitting in the chair he clicked on the power and began typing away. The green light from the display covered his face causing it to look eerie.

“Ah! Now I have you.” Alcondas took a small metallic box from his robes, taking a cord from the side of the monitor he plugged it into the box. After a few minutes he withdrew it and replaced the metal box within his robes. “Now I have everything I need,” he said to himself. Smiling still Alcondas stood and exited the ship. He walked back into the church, chanted a small word and closed the floor once again.

Without missing a step he walked from the church and disappeared into the city.

Bump

I'll post ASAP. Tag for now.

Nexlon smiled as Eve danced through the cosmos. He watched on as she waltzed in between missles and torpedoes, moving like a ballarina between lasers and EMP rockets. Nothing could touch them. He began to wistle. Who were they fighting again? It didn't really matter anymore, did it. Pirates, police, some private mercenary army. It all seemed the same after a while. Nexlon observed Eve fire her payload. Missles, railguns, lasers. Boom. No more enemy. Just like last time, and all the times before that.

Beep. A transmission. Nexlon listened to it, and frowned. The Galatic Leyline. Just an old myth. Well, not exactly a myth, according to whoever was speaking at the moment. He deliberated. What did he have to lose? Nothing. What could he gain? Perhaps everything.

Think back, man. Act your age. What year was it? 2072? Mabey '73. Back when space travel like this was just science fiction. Man, cryogenics really does a number on the memory cells. Remember everything you had. Your armor, your sword, your power. Adamaria. Your Friends. Bear, Larson, Geller, Rostijan, Taylor, even Janus, the two-faced bastard that he was. All dead now, of course. Danni. Could such a Leyline, with all of it's knowlage, bring her back? Mabey. Why wouldn't it?

Nexlon closed his eyes. Yes, he thought. He'd find it. This...Leyline. If it existed, he'd get there first. He would have Eve decode and trace the trasmission back to it's origins. There would be clues there. He ajusted his mask and gave a slight smile. Danni...

Bump

Tag while waiting for confirmation.

Bump, confirmed.

The huge man in front of Ethelian was about 6'6", and almost as wide. He was grinning as he hefted his fist to smash Ethelian into the metal floor of the bar that they were in. Some ganger, Ethelian knew, out to get him for killing his boss. The mans fist flew out, but Ethelian ducked out of the way, rolling up to his feet. The man punched again and again, but with almost superhuman quickness, the Nistolonian evaded every one. With a grunt, the man tried to crush him, running towards him with arms outstreched, but with a quick jump and a flip, Ethelian lept onto his back, pausing for long enough to deliver a fatal strike to the neck. As the man fell, one of his companions--remaining companions, that is--leveled his blaster at him. Ethelian's draw was quicker, and his shadowlance pistol sent a magneticly propeled enegy bolt into his chest, splattering the wall behind him with blood.

The last ganger dropped his gun and ran out the door.
"Hey man, nice <hic> going." A drunken man staggered to Ethelian, shaking his hand clumsly. Or he seemed drunk. He pressed a comm-chip into Ethelians hand before staggering off.

Back on the Th'Hassa, Ethelian reviewed the chip. It was some crazy human babbling about the Galactic Layline and untold riches. Old. Ethelian was probably twice his age and looked to be about 25 by human standards. Youngbloods.
He plugged the chip into his ships computer, as the informant had kindly found the transmissions origin, then left to change out of his sweaty, sandy clothes and into his shadowsuit (http://us.games-workshop.com/games/warhammer/woodelves/extras/conceptart/popup.htm?images/9.jpg). As he went, he called "Computer, set and engage course. Power weapons and shields."

The Adder jumped to warp with little more then a whisper.

Thrashian Traffic Authority, this is the private vessel of Grenduen Dress-Julo Hiflekt. I am requesting authorization to land, either at an orbital station or on the surface. Please respond. I will not require refueling, and need only to conduct private business on the surface.
Grenduen awaits confirmation of permission to land.

After sending out a standard boilerplate message, Hiflekt made quite sure that all his targeting systems were set at their lowest threat-awareness level. He even went so far as to disable his anti-capship cannons, lest they be regarded as a threat. He then sat back and waited for but a moment before launching into action again.

Remembering the name of a contact at the GTK Embassy on Thrashia, he began to dial him up. Within a few short seconds, the friendly face of another Tkalgren appeared, a member of the Retndo-Jikyk clan. Translators disabled, it was unlikely (though possible) that anybody else would be able to listen in on their conversation.

"Ahh, Hiflekt of the Dress-Julo. Grendeun if I remember correctly. What brings you to this system? Last time we met you had been hired to kill pirates in the Fest Zone."

"My dear ally. I found myself in posession of a strange message. As warrior-preist I felt it necessary to seek out its origin and purpose."

"I have heard of this message. You are not the first warrior to arrive in this system. Though I do not know many details. The others however are mere mercenaries. And human."

"It would not do to let humans succeed when there are more worthy people about. Can you tell me what you know? It regards some treasure. Though I do not know what it is, I am sure it would bring glory to all who aided me. And perhaps to Tkal itself, for succeeding where the filth-lovers failed."

"Do not say such things. Humans are of a different background. They are raised to be afraid of nature, and furthermore they love to be near eachother. They would rather rejoice in one another's smell than in that of glorious Nature."

"Nevermind the culture of them, it is immaterial. All that I need from this planet is the first steps toward greater glory. The lovers of Death could come to it for all I care after I have completed my business here."

"Do not say such things, we have diplomatic immunity, but that does not mean they do not try to listen in...I do not have much information. Only an official police report regarding the location that the message originated. I can use my diplomatic powers to get you onto the planet's surface, but I will not be able to get you into a crime scene. And there are very few of use here. So you will surely be noticed by any person on the street."

"Let them notice me and know that their hatred of Nature is not unnoticed. I would like to land on this planet arrange it as fast as you can. And if I could use a diplomatically-protected landing area would be preferred, I do not want these other warriors you mentioned examining my ship."

Ethelian guided the Th'Hassa through the Thrashain Defence Network and down towards the planets surface. After a brief discussion with Traffic Control, he was given a landing zone at port 11-A and clearence to all civilian traffic areas. He guided his ship into his landing zone, payed the man in charge and opened his rear hatch to deploy his Hydra (http://www.3drt.com/3dm/airspace/heli-01.jpg) jetbike. Maing sure his weapons were powered down and the comm chip was plugged in, he began to search the city for the comms origin.

Kress, High Advisor of the Emperor, entered his Masters chambers, as terrified as usual. Not only was the room itself impressive, with high walls of white marble and roof and floor made of black, but the man in the throne was terrifying. Nearly 8'3", the Emperor dwarfed all men in the Empire. The sleek, black armor glistened in the light of the chamber.

"My Lord, we have recieved this transmission", he said and played the transmission for the much larger man.

"We will need to send a group after this, don't you think?" he asked Kress after viewing it, now very excited. Money was one of the few things he was truly interested in.

"As you wish, my Lord. I will inform lord Arcanii..." Kress was silenced by the Emperor's fist.

"No. No one may know the Empire wants it. Hire freelancers, and hire them anonymously." He turned to a computer, and shortly after printed a list containing three names: Arcanus, Destructoria ans Shias. "These are the ones I want. Whatever their demands, give it to them. I want that treasure."

"It will be done, Master", Kress responded and huried away to get the deal.

"Moron", the Emperor swore to his empty chamber.

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

"Well then, I guess you all know why we're here", Arcanus said to his new allies. "We have long been adversaries, but for the money paid, I think we might be able to put that aside." This was met by a grin from Shias, the most juvenile of the group.

"Where will we be heading?", a large man asked. The massive bulk of Destructoria sat in a corner, and he was playing with a knife. Though having the looks of a grunt, the moves he made to catch the blade each time were of impressive speed. For a man his size, that is.

"Apparently, the message has been transmitted from a planet in the fifth sector. We will be heading there as soon as possible."

"And there?"

"We will go easy. Sorry Destructoria, but absolutely no slaughter there. This is scouting only, we will verify the believability of the source before we move out." Destructoria let out a low groan at this. He hadn't killed for quite some time, and his barbaric mind was going crazy from this.

After quite some time quiet, Shias spoke. "Time to head to the shuttle, I believe."

"Yes, I believe it is."

Shortly after, a single ship left Sonaj for the fifth sector.

The two Commandian ships jumped out of hyper space in the fifth sector, where Commandian science and engineering officers have tracked the message to. It was from a planet called Alconda, and the nation, Thrasia. The ships enetered the planets orbit, where orbital defence station eyed them suspisciously, and after a quick talk with the Space port guard, landed, There wasn't enough room for the capital ship to land, so it remained in orbit, while the dropship landed. Lieutenant Richard Dwyane walked out, while the rest of the soldiers, leaing their weapons in the ship, got out and started exploring. Lieuteneant Dwayne hid his shotgun in his coat, and started tracking the message to it's source.
He walked around the city, went in every bar, possible mafia location, and entertainment place to search for he origin. But, his luck turned hwen, for a price, a man in a dark coat told him that there was something in the old chruch up on the hill. He ran to the church, sometimes tripping over his own coat, and ran in. It was dark and moldy. He took out his shotgun, and turned on his flashlight. He kept on looking, and looking, and looking. He didn't find anything. He then turned on his communicator, and said,
"I need five men, on the double."
"Yes, sir!" came the reply.
Then, he waited.

Their were forigin troops here, Ethelian could see, unarmed or no. Military men tended to stick out like sore thumbs in civilian populations. That, and they were heading to every possible bar in the city. Typical.
Except they didnt buy anything. After following the first one out of random curiosoty, he found that they asked around, and left.
"I guess this layline isnt so secret after all..." he muttered. One of the soldiers was running, tripping over his coat like only a human would. He was running up one of the many hills in the city, this one dominated by a crumbling church that no-one had gotten around to tearing down yet. It also had police tape all over it.
OOC: Commodia, how did you get into a crime scene?

The 5th Sector. Thrashian space, if Nexlon remembered Correctly. Eve had traced the transmission back to here. Planet Alconda. I've been here, Nexlon thought. Twelve years, a little while after the reactivation. A hit. Strange, that he would be led back here now. Clear you head, man. You know what's coming. Cloak the ship. No one can know where you are-especially the Thrashian government.

Slip between the guns and the ships. Careful not to emit any much energy that could be picked up by Thrashian sensors. Easy does it. Now, deactivate the engines and hook into the gravity field. Let the planet do all the work. Now swerve left. Good, We're in the atmosphere. Take it real slow now; reactivate the hover field. Don't go near that water; stay higher. Get to the Trace. Hm. It's quite guarded. Time to leave the ship behind. An abandon group of warehouses. That should be good enough. Now walk out like nothing's out of the ordinary. Ah, but You should have expected this.

A giant of a man was standing outside the warehouse, dressed in a deep blue hue. He was wearing an tremendously large trenchcoat that was much too big even for him.

"Hello, Nexlon. Good to see you again."

"Same. I didn't think you survived, Kimura."

"Next time don't spare me."

"You won't get any more pity from me."

".....You're about to see twelve years of improvement since my last body. Don't underestimate me. I knew you were coming, too. I could tell by the noise of your ship."

"Every one of you is exactly the same as the last."

"Hmf."

.......

Cyborgs. Damn. Nexlon wasn't fond of them. Especially Kimura. Of course, He knew this would happen. Cyborgs tend to survive through more than humans. Shouldn't have been so easy on him last time. Now destroy his hard drive if you want him truly dead. He's attacking. Don't use the GBE. It'll attract too much attention. Use the Machine guns. Test him. Lasers and blades in the arms. A plasma cannon in the chest. Machineguns in the brow. Almost amature. Kimura's aim hasn't improved very much.

Ah, this is a pleasent suprise. Mortars in the kneecaps and a flamethrower attached to the ankle. Not bad, but still inaccurate. Strike back, make him mad. There, he's lost his plasma cannon. Looks like he can't take as many bullets as he used to. This is too easy. Aim for the feet. There we go...Now where are you going to run when you have only one leg? Finish him. Damn, out of ammo. Use the Machete. He can't move anyways. Be precise this time. Go for the blow.

Something's wrong.

A rocket loaded into the back of the mouth. Totally unexpected. No time to go for the GBE. Focus, there's only a second more to react. Use the blade. Remember the training. Combine two techniques into one...The art of Air and the art of Gravity!

Nexlon grinned behind his mask.

"My specialty."

Bring the blade down so quickly It cuts through the air at the speed of sound; The sonic boom is guided by gravity...The strike cuts through the rocket and Kimura. Textbook. Douse the remains of Kimura with enough fire to vaporize the hard drive. Done.

Now, go find that ship.

OOC: Commandia, how did you get into a crime scene?
OOC: Hehe, i didn't. I snuck past. And Please, don't ask follow up questions. Let every one have their fun ;)
IC: The five soldiers ran in, one of them an engineering officer.
"Gamma Squad reporting for duty!" Said one of them.
All of them stealthily sneaked past security, using the 3 months' stealth training they got back on Commandia.
"Alright, help me search this place. I've traced the comms signal back here. Or maybe that piece of scum tricked me."
Then he noticed the organ. He sat down , and dust flew everywhere. He coughed for a while, and then he pressed a key. An abomidable screeching sound came out, and he couldn't stand it. Just out of curiousity he took out his electric knife, and cut into the organ. a shower of sparks met him.The Liuentenant stumbled backwards, and then shone his flashlight into the organ. He saw some quite advanced technology inside it. He cut a few more wires. He heard creaking and groaning. He cut a few more wires. More screeching, groaning, creaking. He heard a yelp from one of the soldiers. The Lieutenant turned around to see what happened. The floor beneath the engineering oficer given way. A police officer ran into the church, but one of the soldiers stunned him with a pistol he, apparently, purchased in the streets.
"Handy little thing." He said.
After Richard cut a little more wires, the floor came own into a pssage, down below the church, and The Lieutenant wondered what was there.

Zilven was playing cards with Damath and Nuram when the message came. More accurately, Zilven and Damath were watching Nuram beat them. Even when they didn't let her touch any cards but the ones she was dealt, the Nertar fighter still had far better luck at such games than anyone had a right to.
Then a voice sounded over the intercom.
"Everyone to the front. I think you're all going to want to hear this."

"I thought I finally had you, there." Zilven grumbled. "Figures something would come up just when I'm finally winning."

"Leave the cards out, and we'll finish the game when we get back." Nuram replied with a grin.

"Huh." Damath tossed down his cards and stomped out of the room.

"I take it he wasn't doing so well..." Nuram said.
Laughing the other two followd him to Goldenrod's control room.

"So, Taryn, what's so important that you have to interupt out game?" asked Zilven. "I was about to beat Nuram at Zerak Kral."

"Ha!" the pilot replied. "I'll believe that when I see it. But here, listen to this..."
He replayed the Captain's mysterious message.

The four mercenaries exchanged slow grins. Nobody had to ask if they were going to follow this clue.

"Where'd it come from?"
"Some place in the 5th Sector. A planet called Alconda, I think."
"Right, then. Let's make a quick stop there, and then head for the 3rd Sector. And move quickly; you can be sure we won't be the only ones interested in this."
"Aye aye, Chief."
"Now, let's finish that game..."

Taryn entered the coordinates for Alconda in Goldenrod's computer, and had the first of the series of portals that would take them there open before the others had picked up their cards. As soon as the craft arrived at the outskirts of the system, he began scanning all communication frequencies for anything that mentioned the Galactic Leyline or showed heavy encryption.

Needless to say, Nuram won the game.

Within the black canapoy of the church a dark figure sat. It twisted it head at obscene angles as it watched the men below find the entrance to the ship chamber.

"Hmm...bad, master will be unhappy that others found this, yes very angry he will be with Gimbal." The figure lifted its enlongated arm and licked the long black knife that was surgically attached to his arm. "Hmmm yes, fun for everyone, then master will not be angry, no not at all."

The figure stood then slipped down the wall with the grace of a ballet dancer. His entire 7ft form was thin and long, and covered in some black mesh material. A white mask with eyeholes and a mouth was present where his face should be, it had two red lines over each eye. Attached to either arm was a long knife like object.

He slinked around the shadows and came silently up behind one of them and slit his throat before he could cry out. He set the body on the ground then returned to the shadows.

"Come on men, lets go down," said one man, it was the same man who had entered first. The others began to walk forward when the man with the stun gun noticed the dead body.

"Hey-" A knife blade slit accross his throat, cutting off the yell. The other three men turned. The leader pulled out some sort of gun and fired it as the the masked man tried to dance away back into the shadows.

Gimbal rubbed his shoulder, it had a small hole in it from where a fragment of the mans gun had shot him. "They have hit Gimbal! I shall kill them for shooting Gimbal!" He ran around the chapel in the shadows. The three men had a each a small gun, except for the leader who had the shotgun. Gimbal threw an object on the opposite side of the church all three men turned that way. Gimbal ran with his abnoraml speed past one of them and cut him down with his knives, then continued running and made it back to the shadows.

"Fucker!" yelled one of the men. The last two now stood with their backs togethor.

"Interesting...yes. Gimbal likes jumping, so Gimbal will jump! Yes...." Gimbal ran through the shadows once more and jumped onto the alter and then leaped into the air. He landed squarely between the two men, all three fell to teh floor. Gimbal struck with both knives into the chest of the nearest one, the mans pistol falling from his hand as death took him. Gimbal turned to kill the other and was faced with the eye of the shotgun barrel.

"Fucker." Blam! Gimbal's maskless form fell back onto the floor dead. A small metal plate on Gimbal's forearm began to blink a small unseen light.

Ethelian darted into the church and cautiously peered around the corner at the sound of gunfire. A dark figure and some of those offworld soldiers were fighting. Two of the soldiers lay dead, bleeding from knife wounds. Another fell a second later, but then the black figure was met by the barrel of the leaders shotgun.

As the soldiers began to inspect the organ, where someone had ripped and sliced it, Ethelian saw what they had found. Keeping to the shadows, he crawled forward to get a better look.

"Gents, we're closing in" Arcanus told his group. They had 'hitched' a ride with a merchant, and they were now looking down at Alconda, the source of the message.

Destructoria had been moody throughout the trip, mumbeling something about 'uptight a**' whenever he saw Arcanus. He didn't dare face the smaller man up front though, not even he dared that.

Now, however, his spirits lifted. Even though killing wasn't allowed just yet, he would at least get off the ship. How he loathed it.

Shis' spirits lifted as well: Soon he, like the others, would be skulking the streets of the city below. Soon, he wouldn't have to stand their company around the clock. He might not even risk stabwounds as much.

As they closed in on the planet, a voice requested their information. Arcanus answered calmly and correctly, and then awaited the response.

"This is Alcondas Central Port Command. You have clearance to enter. Be warned that a riot has erupted in the central parts of the City, and it is wise to avoid those areas," said the technician. He sat drinking his recaf, dripping just a dot on his white starch ironed shirt. "Dammit!"


"Thankyou Central. We will be careful," said the merchant ships pilot. The ship entered the port and landed.

With his smaller weapons and his spy gear packed into a duffle bag, Grendeun walked from the diplomatic compound into the streets of Alcondas. As an alien, he was very noticeable, even without his armor and blades. Though he appeared unarmed, he went unmolested through the crowds forcing their way out of the downtown area, trying to avoid the riots. He had spent three hours getting visas and documents in the embassy, and was eager to return to the hunt.

Slowly the crowd thinned, as those who were trying to avoid trouble disapated and only the sounds of the distant riot remained. Though he wasn't sure what they were rioting about, it probably didn't concern him. Let the foolish humans ruin their homes and businesses. If somebody attacked him, they would feel the points of his fangs.

As he prowled into the growing darkness of evening, he saw a mob of people moving toward him from various directions. So far no looters had even looked his way, but he could smell the fear coming off this gang, for he now recognized it as such. And fear would make them attack, fear and a wonder as to what exactly was in his bag. Well then.

" Hey Snake-face! Where ya goin? Don't you think that your hair needs a trim? C'mer and I'll cut those feathers hangin over your eyes... heh, looks like the ugly lizard ain't got the guts to face us, eh boys?"

A warrior preist cannot be intimidated by catcalls, though he should make whoever was foolish enough to insult him pay. He stopped in the middle of the street, and took the duffle bag off his shoulder. He drew his blackened commando blades from it and strapped them to his wrists. Then he activated the energy sheaths, a blue-green glow surrounding each of the weapons, drastically increasing their cutting power. When he turned to face the gang, it was gone.

That was no way to behave. He smelled the air, and sensed which way most of the had fled. He hefted the bag back onto his shoulder and began running down an alley. Sliding his assistant from its pouch, he called up a map of the city's side streets. Then he sensed something more interesting than chasing down a gang of human youths and instructing them in combat.

A smell, quite unusual. He could tell it didn't belong to a human, in fact he was almost sure it was a disguised cyborg, trying to pass itself off as human. And, sure enough, when he slowly moved towads its source, he saw a huking man in a trenchcoat standing in an upstairs window. The window was open, and he could make out the faint outline of some sortof rifle in the man's hands. An assasin, waiting for somebody else hopefully. Though, to be honest he was perched right along the route Hiflekt had planned to take.

With utmost caution, and a prayer to Fortune, he passed by through the sniper's feild of fire. By now the gang had surely escaped, but it was night, and there would be greater danger ahead, so he left his blades on his wrists. Now he saw what was left of the crime scene. And it was clear that he hadn't been the first, or even the third to arrive here. KNowing that there would be nothing useful left here, he instead decided to find out what the mercenaries were up to. Somebody, somewhere would tell him what he wanted to know.

Arcanus turned to Shias. "You see, I told you they'd fall for it. Okay, remember: Scatter and find out whatever you can. We will meet here at dusk."

Shias and Destructoria nodded, the latter with a smile on his face.

A riot, eh? I'm sure they can't blame me if I protect myself... Blood must be spilled! If I'm not attacked, I'll... Destructoria's train of thought came to an abrupt end when he saw Arcanus' facial expression. Is it impossible to keep something from this guy?!

"Destructoria, get a grip: Scouting, no killing. Trust me, if my gut is right, there'll be plenty of that later on. Now, scatter!" And they did: Their cloaked bodies were quickly lost in the crowd at the port.

The Lieutenant stood panting, looking at the dead figure at the floor. He once again turned on his communicator.
"I've been having a little trouble. Tell Ten men to get their weapons, and meet me at the church."
Suddenly, he snapped to attention, hearing the sound of footsteps. He looked around cautiously, took out his knife, and said,
"Who's there?"
There came no reply. He turned his communicator on again.
"Command, where are those soldiers?"
"They are coming, Lieutenant."
He turned around, and walked down the newly opened floor, and what he saw amazed him.
A B-Class cruiser, by Commandian standards, it's hatch door was torn off, and was in bad condition, and it looked old and bedraggled. He started towards the ship.

Bump

There was a ping. Admiral Status Aran settled back in his chair. "Comms, put the message on screen."

FNS FEATHER COMMUNICATIONS CORE ACCESSED

CHECK SUBSPACE COMMUNICATION CHANNELS? Y/N

>Y

SPECIFY CONSTRAINTS

>RECIEVEDATE (< 24 SGW); SENDER (FNHQ)

REFERENCING DATABASES...

FOUND 1 ENTRIES

DISPLAY? Y/N

>Y

MESSAGE 1 OF 1

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
MESSAGE FROM: FLEET ADMIRAL J. GONBERG, FNHQ, FALCANIA PRIME

MESSAGE TO: ADMIRAL S. ARAN, FNS FEATHER

MESSAGE TYPE: OBJECTIVE RESPECIFICATION

MESSAGE READS:

Admiral Aran, you are to adjust course immediately. The FNS Talon and an escort of two destroyers are converging on your location. Your new mission is to land on planet M-182 in the FNS Talon. Your standard bodyguard shall accompany. You must locate a treasure, known commonly as the Galactic Leyline. You are dispensed to use any force necessary not in contravention of Falcanian or Galactic law. Have fun, Aran, this is just the boost that could get you a Fleet Admiral's pip.

MESSAGE ENDS.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

END OF MESSAGES.

TERMINATE ACCESS LINK? Y/N

"Shall I, sir?" Asked the young Comms officer.

"Go ahead" Replied Aran.

>Y

LINK TERMINATED.

Aran got up. "Ops, establish an ETA for the FNS Talon and co. I'm going to prepare in my ready room. Shuttlebay, ready my yacht for transfer to the talon."

As the group of assassins gathered again, Destructoria was obviously in a foul mood: He kept making fists with his hands and muttered under his breath. Arcanus felt pleased the man hadn't gotten to kill anyone.

"So, what have you found out?", he asked his group.

"I saw some form of alien, with feathers on his head.", Destructoria answered. "He had a very interesting set of blades, which scared off some gang." At this, he fell into muttering something sounding oddly like "cowards, I could've 'helped' him to get them away, finaly some blood but noo, they're all scared little weasels"

"Er, yeah. I caught a brief glimpse of someone like that as well", Shias said. "Didn't take much notice though. I did however stumble upon a crimescene and some sort of riot, but..."

"Riot? Where? How could I miss it? Tell me!" Destructoria broke in.

"Not far from the crimescene, in that direction." Shias pointed towards the area of the riot. "Anyway, there was some commosion around an old house in a different part of the city. Not sure if it has something with the transmission to do, but I couldn't get in."

"Okay, good Shias. I've just spotted a few characters who have stood out from the rest of the crowd, nothing that seemed related to the transmission though. We'll check out that building later Shias, first we better keep looking. We leave at sunrise."

The group went into the 'borrowed' ship, and went to bed. The next day, they once again scattered on the streets of the city.

Aran was sat in the Captain's chair of the FNS Talon. He much preferred the bridge of the Bird of Prey, but the Hailstorm-class cruiser was built for a purpose: Planetfall.

"Sir!" Said his Ops crewman. "We are within planetfall range. Shall I commence planetfall seperation?"

"Make it so," replied Aran. "Go to Condition Blue."

Two major electromagnetic clamps near the fore of the craft, either side of the lower bridge in which they were sitting, disengaged. The lower carriage of the Talon drifted away from the upper, upside-down V shaped section which had the gauss cannons attached. The planetfall section entered the atmosphere. As the viewscreen glowed red, Aran checked his console. "Helm, prepare to release the landing clamps." The redness ceased, and the planetfall section entered the atmosphere. The helmsman skilfully guided it down, and it landed on the outskirts of the town. The landing clamps released, fastening the ship to the ground. Aran summoned his away team with his combadge, and proceeded to the teleporter. He met his team there. They stepped onto the pad, and the chief beamed them down onto the planet surface. Aran led his team into the city.

Taryn brought Goldenrod closer to the planet while keeping a constant ear out for any information about the transmission and the treasure it described. When contacted by Port Command, he calmly answered their questions.

Zilven also waited in the control room, listening to the news and planning...

Aran and his team proceeded into town. They were getting strange looks, because of the fact that each of them had a fully developed pair of wings. A gang of about 20 youths approached them, each with a clearly visible sonic weapon. "Who are you, wing boy?" Asked the head youth, brandishing a sonic-blasta.

"I am Admiral Status Altron Aran of the Falcanian Navy, and I am here on official business. Please move, or I will pacify you."

"Listen, wing boy. My name is Derick Bladestorm, and I do what I want."

Aran pulled out his Thermal Shok rod, and charged it up.

"Whatcha gonna do, prod me?" Were the last words of Derick Bladestorm, as shortly afterwards his arm was sliced off. Screaming, Derick leaped back, and fired the sonic-blasta wildly with his one remaining arm, and it emitted a pulse of rippling air which soared towards Valens, who gripped his Psichic Amplifier and aimed it at the bolt of sonic energy. The purple amplification bubble glowed, and a violet mesh of electric-looking bolts sprayed from the end, enveloping the sonic bubble and shattering it in a long screech. Wordlessly, Aran's team leapt into the air. With the height advantage, they were unstoppable, pumping hydrogen-coated bolts of Lawrencium silently at the gang, who were waving their sonic weapons wildly without getting any hits. As the hydrogen-coated bolts made contact with the hydrogen in the air, they fused, causing a fiery trail behind each bolt as the massive energy present in molecules was released. Aran descended in a storm of fury, shooting a gauss pistol and wielding a thermal shok rod, which is electrically heated to near-supernova heat and can slice through humanoid body structure like butter. Valens flew higher, silently undermining the enemy from above with his psichic skills, turning some gangmembers against their comrades and blasting blank the minds of others. It was all over within five minutes. the gang lay, most dead with gaping, burnt holes in their bodies, or limp and floppy where their comrades' weapons had jellified their bones. Some lay in pieces, and a few lay, dribbling, silently on the floor, in a vegetative state. Aran and the team holstered their weapons and moved onwards towards the church.