NationStates Jolt Archive

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The great waves splashed about the surface of the water planet Solus, hiding all signs of any life other than the obvious amphibian life that would be found in the oceans of planets. Beneath the waves sat the magnificent golden city of the Sarians; capitol of their mighty Empire and impossible to find by invaders.

The Sarians swam like fish through the waters, breathing it as easy as air itself. The great city made entirely of gold and jewels sat well defended by the many royal guards; and the great palace of marble sat overlooking the city. Housing the great King of the Sarians.

It was said that the other "equal" races of the galaxy had decided upon war, and that many battles would rage in the heavens and most likely spread into the seas; but they would be met with harsh opposition.

The many powerful vessels of the Sarians sat gathered beneath the waves in the calm of the deep, awaiting their chance to spring into life and defend the borders of the Empire. Or, should the King will it, expand the borders outwards and subjugate those that stand in the way of total Sarian dominance.

Life. Life is a universal engima with only one true answer; one true ending. Death. Death was the embrace of the end; the focussing of life and it's primal force into one spectacular moment. To gaze beyond death, is to see what it means to live. Death beckons from the shadows now; hissing it's prayers to those who would listen. It's disciples; the Ta're.

Before the black altar and great ebony statue, they bowed; offering up the ancient sacred words; as the two great leaders gazed upon them; she, alive with shimmering flame; he, wreathed in darkness, shadow; death had laid it's fingerprints upon him.

As they offered up the prayer; they spoke of war, death, conquest. They spoke of supreme sacrifices; endless devotion through black deeds. The dark skinned reavers cackled; watching the shifting skies; clouds twisting in spiral arcs; dancing with electricity; as the malignant cancerous death god held sway above the smokey skies; alive with primal fury. This would be the genesis of a great becoming; their words would touch the void; and it would lead them forth...

Go in haste, and speak my words to thy men, so that they may know the burden that shall become them. Take heed my words, and do not stray from the task, for thy shalt come to thine end otherwise.

The Great King of the Sarians spoke to his first son, Arthoos, commander of the armies of the Empire. And disregard the Kings words Arthoos did not. Swimming from the great palace of marble towards the fleets of gray ships, and the men that hath gathered in the forey.

Oh great Sarians, nearest and farthest! Thine greatest of warriors! Take heed my words, and those of our great King Mithridates the Wise! Go forth and spread thine arms as to do glory to the Empire!

And the cheers of the warriors arose, and the thunderous sound of the swift swimming and loading of the ships. Those great warriors of the Gods, the favored sons of the War God Halgarius.

And out of the waters, the great ships appeared, and parted did the waves from their location, and drained the water left the ships and the Sarians. Forwards they go, towards the nearest planet outside of the Empire. Forwards to spread the borders of the Empire, and to speak the words of the King to all those who shalt have the knowledge to listen and bow down to the children of the Gods.

Forwards, to Kael'va'ra, to extinguish the flames, and fill the void with glorious water that bringeth life. Forwards, to victory.

Light...One of the greatest powers in the universe, and one of the greatest things to the Mechanicus. Light was one of the main things that kept them "alive," so to speak.

And it was light that High Tri'im Garrel was staring at, through the window of his hover-condo on Mechanicus Prime. Below him was the vast ocean, one of the few areas of the planet that had not been a victim of urbanization. The sunlight from the nearest star, nicknamed "Faranus," glimmered off the silver waters, creating a sort of soft radiance which shaded his optical sensors whichever way he looked.

As he turned away from the window, a can of oil, "Oil-O" brand, with a straw sticking out of it in hand, he noticed that on the holophone was a blinking light. More specifically, a blinking light that signalled that someone was calling him.

With the push of a button, the image of another Mechan, in soft-blue light, was prjected from the small, silver, semi-spherical device.

The Mechan, who looked almost exactly like him (it happens when you're machines), was General Marak, and one of the head officers in the Mechan Empire's Armada.

"High Tri'im!" The general saluted, and once recieving a salute in return, continued with what he had been saying. He spoke with a voice that sounded like someone with a medium-pitch voice speaking through a metal tube. "Sir, the eighth fleet has recently finished being constructed as has arrived at the spacedocks on Coventia."

Nodding, Garrel took another sluck of his oil, thinking it over. "Very good, general. Very good. Our defenses are slowly building up. Slowly but surely, or whatever that old phrase is. Anyway, should the enemy decide to attack us, we'll be fully prepared."

Before the general could respond, Garrel pressed a button on the device, and the image of General Marak faded away. The High Tri'im resumed drinking his oil, moving over to the window to stare at the star a bit longer.

The ashes speak of a great battle. The ashes speak of the burning of many worlds. The ashes speak too of the death of our race. The ashes have not lied to us before. What then, are we to think of this portent?
--Dust Seer Thrax, Ashes in the Wind

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The Dust Seers were afraid.

Even in the best of times, the Seers were unpredictable, emotional. Their raving of enigmatic prophecy grated on the nerves of the Dustlord, but they were shielded by divine law. If he layed a finger on them, his throne of Ash would be gone in an instant. The rest of the populace believed, and the mob ruled the Vast.

But now, they were truly frightened. The Dustlord could smell their fright, could sense the pheremones indicating the truth of the matter, even under the heavy perfumes of the priestly caste. Something was happening, or if the priests were to be believed, would happen soon.

Scowling, the Dustlord turned, grabbing the throat of a subordinate.

"Slave, bring me Seer Thrax. There is much he and I must discuss. His priests smell something in the ashes, and I desire to learn the truth of this matter, once and for all."

Above the gleaming surface of Kael'va'ra and its vast temples; blazing with eternal flame, world of a thousand sacrifices, the monotonous tombships hovered. Upon the gilded bridge, the Admiral stood; his armor a glorified sarcophasgus; a death-mask gleaming with gems and precious metal; strengthened and hardened to accomodate war. To his back was strapped a great war scythe; plasma reservoir crackling and hissing; the blade gleaming obscenely in the light.

"So it is come to this..."

"Admiral; we stand ready to serve you unto the great End; we shall fight as though it were our last, and send many to the mouths of the Gods."

"As it is, so it shall be; ready the defence. We are the great hope of our race; the shadow in the light of Death. We are the Warriors; the Void Walkers! let our foes taste their own damnation"

The ponderous weapons crackled with energy; as blasts of plasma rocketted forth from the planet and the few ships scattered about the atmosphere; searing blasts of white energy, hurtling forth with mind-numbing speed; yet seeming to move slowly; the mind compensating for what it did not truly understand.

"Ta'rea'da'ka la'ka'kael'da!" The Admiral Roared "Victory; even unto Death! Triumph at the will of Flame!"

Tocam’s body shook with the pounding of the rock drill in his hands. Grey dust whirled about him, and the inside of his protective suit felt clammy and foul with sweat and dirt even though the temperature around him was well below freezing. It always was.
Rich, gleaming seams of barumite, so-called red gold, stretched out endlessly beneath his feet in seams going on for miles and miles. His task was that of mining it all up and out into the light of day. The curse of his speckled skin was one of endless toil and work – ending with the swift flick of the shimmerblade once old age begun to take its toll.

Tocam’s body shuddered as he stifled a half-hearted sob, great, filthy tears pressing their way out of his eyes. Such thoughts always did this to him. “Quiet now Tocam, quiet now” he muttered to himself, mimicking his mothers soothing voice from the days before the accident. “Work to do, work to do…”

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The lime-green light of the moon whispers secrets to those unafraid to listen, says on old hatchling rhyme. Dorvaum Shosil, commanding officer of the Loquari cruiser Defiance and colonel in the Royal navy didn’t know if there was any truth to this, but leaning back in his chair on the bridge of his ship, the old leather creaking ominously underneath his weight, he almost fancied he could hear a voice whispering to him in the distance…

“Shosil… Colonel Shosil…” By the Fathers, there really was a voice! Dorvaum suddenly sat bolt upright in his wide chair, blinking his way out of the dreamless stupor he’d slipped into. “Colonel Shosil” his intercom crackled with vox-chatter, he realised as his shoulders slumped – it had only been the intercom. He swung his legs out onto the deck and found firm ground to stand on as he tuned on his earpiece, his free hand brushing against the pommel if his trusted shimmerblade. Proof of his nobel heritage, and defender of his honour.

Joining the navy was the best decision he’d ever made, he reflected just then as he drifted back into the land of the living. He didn’t know it yet, he didn’t even suspect it, but what the future held in store for him was quite a lot more than simple moon-dreaming…

The smoke that filled sky let only a few rays of light through, revealing small spots of the dark landscape. This was the industrial planet of Cael Three, its whole surface dedicated to refineries and factories, while gigantic mineshafts cut deep into the soil. The entire planet had been turned into a huge forge, existing for one sole purpose; to create the equipment and vessels needed by the Cael-Donnae. Above the equator orbited several shipyards and dcoks used by the Cael-Donnae spacefleet and large shuttles hurried to deliver ready-made parts for assembly high above the black sky.
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Unlike its brother, Cael Two was devoted solely to the raising, training and hosting of the vast armies. While Cael Prime was covered by large, cubic factories and deep shafts, Cael Two was filled with vast fertile valleys and acres of greenhouses. Around the polar caps were mighty fortresses, the homes of the many divisions and army corps of the Cael-Donnae army. Some activity had been noticed in the fortresses, as the troopers had been trained extensively since the last month. Exercises included advancement under artillery fire, assault against armoured strongholds and pincer manouvers.
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Cael Prime was unlike any of its brother planets, as it combined the virtues of both of them. In the north were industries, mines and the Holy Palace of the Cael-Arenadya. Further south you would find vast fields and greenhouses, ranches and farms. This was the capital of the mighty empire of the Cael-Donnae, and thus it harboured more goverment officials, guards, security patrols and featured extensive planetary defences. This came at a cost however, as the planet proved unable to sustain the rapidly increasing population. This had forced the annexation of Caer Two and Three and now had lead them to war with many of the other civilizations in the system.

High Tri'im Garrel stood on the hover-platform, floating above the millions of Mechan Empire soldiers below him. The troops, all assembled on the Military-Planet of Coventia, stood at attention, waiting for their leader to speak.

"Soldiers of the Empire! Today, you stand before me, expertly trained, highly skilled, and eager to take on the enemy! I cannot help, but feel proud, to see you all fighting for the future of the Mechanicus!"

In response, the throng of Mechans let loose a tremendous roar.

"Now, go! Defend the homeworld at all costs! Destroy all who oppose the Empire!"

With another roar, the horde of Mechans surged into the enormous vessels behind them, pressing in to fill every single warcruiser on the planet.
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In a flash of black light, the massive warships of the Mechan Empire rocketed away from the planet surface, followed by the smaller vessels. As fast as they had come, the ships' jet-black hulls soon became invisible in the darkness of space; the only thing remaining were the trails of smoke they left in their wake.

It was the Hok'Tar, Water's Fury, that was hit first by the defenders barrage. The massive blasts of firepower smacked into shielding and hull alike as the Sarian fleet pushed on towards it's prey.

It was in retaliation that the great cannons of silver recoiled from the balls of blue energy that flew forth from their bulk, sliding gracefully and deadly towards their targets, intent on ripping fatale holes in the ships of the demons; those who call themselves the Ta're.

And during the start of the chaos, Arthoos stood upon the deck of glass, the water running through the floor reflecting a sweet blue aura on his and the rest of the crews faces and bodies.

These demons of fire wish that they could be done with us, us who shall destroy all those who oppose my fathers will. And so he beseeched his commanders. Have the fleet form the spacial phalanx, and send these demons to the wrath of Loka! And took heed of his words they did, and went about their tasks, and the orders went out towards the ships.

And as the fleet re-positioned itself into the formation of the spacial phalanx, thirty vessels taking the space that they occupied and moving faster and faster towards the world and it's defenders. And between the fleets, both sides fire flew forth and wreaked havok on each other. And in the temple of the ship, a great sacrifice of thirty fresh oxen were given to Halgarius; and the omens showed favorable, and told that the War God was watching with a smile on his face.

Ishtan was in awe, his beady lilac eyes dancing from one object of destructive wonder to the next. The Servo-Panzer repair bay, -there was no place quite like it anywhere on the entire Dauntless. Everywhere around him, mechanics and engineers pressed these 10’ft tall ceramite-plated giants to their limits.
At his right, a pilot was just getting strapped into his suit, an Ocelot Mk. II by the looks of it, Ishtan thought. It looked a bit roughed-up, but you could easily recognise it on the distinct visor shape, one long, thin slit affording the pilot a broad view of his immediate surroundings. Then the torso shell snapped shut around the pilot, and the giant raised one enormous, gun-mounted hand, armed the cyclone rifle and fired a rippling salvo of laser shots at a nearby stack of empty crates, turning them into pile of so much debris in a matter of seconds.

Ishtan wanted to applaud; he was that much in love with what he saw around him. To be allowed to steer one of these machines would be pure and utter bliss to him. The power surging around him, the two separate packs of gamma batteries pumping unnumbered joules into his arms and legs, the gentle kick-back of the cyclone rifle as it spat its payload out in crackling salvos of pure mayhem…

Damn his speckled skin, for he was just a Moquari. An insignificant member of an insignificant sub-race bound forever to do the jobs and pay in sweat and tears the tax their shimmerblade wielding overlords commanded of them.

“Atten-tion!” the cold, impersonal voice rang quite suddenly from a claxon on the wall behind Ishtan, who nearly jumped out of his skin in fright. “On the order of captain, the Right-Honourable Dorvaum Shosil all crewmembers are to prepare for entrance into warp-speed. You have 10 minutes to report to your stations! Repeat, 10 minutes! Failure to report to your designated station will result in a reprimand, along with the immediate cessation of all hamna-rations! Attention!” The message ended just as abruptly as it had come, allowing Ishtan a few seconds to get his bearings.

Warp-speed? They were definitely not heading back to base then. Even a minor jaunt at warp-speed could land a sucker over 10 clicks from where he’d started. But speaking of 10, he’d better get going. Ishtan didn’t much mind the threat of cessation of hama-rations, he usually just traded the vicious stuff, which tasted like engine oil in any case, with someone else on his shift for whatever he could get his hands on. A reprimand however, by the brass was not something he wanted to face. He’d been through one already for denting his PDA on his first day, and that had cost him enough deck scrubbing to last him a life-time.

Ishtan tore his eyes from the Servo-Panzer units and headed to his station at a run…

It was the Hok'Tar, Water's Fury, that was hit first by the defenders barrage. The massive blasts of firepower smacked into shielding and hull alike as the Sarian fleet pushed on towards it's prey.

It was in retaliation that the great cannons of silver recoiled from the balls of blue energy that flew forth from their bulk, sliding gracefully and deadly towards their targets, intent on ripping fatale holes in the ships of the demons; those who call themselves the Ta're.

And during the start of the chaos, Arthoos stood upon the deck of glass, the water running through the floor reflecting a sweet blue aura on his and the rest of the crews faces and bodies.

These demons of fire wish that they could be done with us, us who shall destroy all those who oppose my fathers will. And so he beseeched his commanders. Have the fleet form the spacial phalanx, and send these demons to the wrath of Loka! And took heed of his words they did, and went about their tasks, and the orders went out towards the ships.

And as the fleet re-positioned itself into the formation of the spacial phalanx, thirty vessels taking the space that they occupied and moving faster and faster towards the world and it's defenders. And between the fleets, both sides fire flew forth and wreaked havok on each other. And in the temple of the ship, a great sacrifice of thirty fresh oxen were given to Halgarius; and the omens showed favorable, and told that the War God was watching with a smile on his face.

57 firstborn sons of the Ta're were offered in sacrifice to the Gods; embraced by Death in fire, even as thre battle raged above. The sun seemed to crackle and hiss, brighter than before; and they knew they were blessed. The Death God's will was clear in this matter.

The Va'ska, the Embrace of Dire Talon, slid forth; the first to be hit by the blasts of energy from the enemy; it's armor sundering, reforming even under duress, as sparks flew and systems shuddered. Shields crackled as other ships felt the fell touch of the enemy; and lightning arced from the vast pylons of the vessels; lashing out like the crack of a whip against their foes. Gouts of raw, searing plasma surged forward; as the nebulous vessels of the Ta're, black and silver armored; opened fire once again against their foes.

Teleport arrays and Portals kicked into operation; targetting the lead ships, as great armored Ta're slid forth from the void between vessels; materialising in their garish armor, adorned in fineries and skulls; they raised their plasma rifles and Flamer Units, and grinned with all the malice of hell within their suits.

"Death comes too quickly for you; sons of the Water"

With that; they opened fire; the wrath of Flame unleashed against the enemy; as the fleet moved on; the Lord's eyes drawn only by the crumbling ship to his left.

My men go in glory to the gods; we must not be afraid to follow...

Oinus was first to fall to the glowing ground as the barbarians of fire came to the ships. Domitian, Sarch, and Goverius fell next; armor of glowing blue clunking as they hit the ground. And it was Go'dar who fired the first shot of retaliation, his rifle of silver shimmering in the light of the water bellow and the light shed by the bolt of energy flowing forth from it's barrel. And with him followed the rest of the soldiers of the Sarians, blocking the path of the defenders with burning blasts from their weapons, and from their long blades that they drew to better suit the combat.

Into the fray of battle went Cars'es, slashing with his great blade of shimmering blue, and Go'dar with him at his side. And followed suit did Alger of the strong arm, who did away with his rifle to draw his sword, and Dorn of the loud war cry, did he jump into the midst of battle and fire his weapon into the thick of fire worshippers.

And so the taunt was sent back, a disdain for the fire gods themselves, and a bain for all those who opposed the life giver water as Cars'es beseeched them:

Thou winged demons of flame, forth from the desolate planets in which you have come, how hath a race of barbarics such as thou hast developped vessels of great strenght to match our own, and weapons and armor to compliment is beyond the knowledge of all but the gods. Flames may spread on the surfaces of calm waters, but water can consume flame, as thou shalt be consumed by mine own hand!

And pressed he further into the fray of heated battle, the beat of his heart increased with every powerful swing of his sword, and at seeing his allies rush in loud thunder towards the seen to push back the devils from the fine silver hulls of the ships of the Sarians.

They fought;by the gods they fought like dervishes; whirling and twisted in fast-paced combat; battle-suits belying their size with surprising speed; and though many fell, they fought on; drawing their crackling, hissing, flame wreathed scythes to plunge against the enemy; while blasts of raw flame and plasma still struck out at the enemy; intent upon cleansing their aquatic Impurity with flame and steel.

Flame sets water to boil; become steam and dissipate; the Gods reveal waters true form, as capricious air and vapour; immaterial, inconsequential. For though steam may burn others, we fear it not. Such are you; a veiled threat; a half-spirit thing that deserves nothing but culling; to be torn asunder by our fury; our righteous Zeal! The Death God hungers for his children to return; behold his firey reign over the sky; the Unconquerable Sun! You shall bow to us; or we shall crush you

The vast vessels let forth blasts of plasma and flame once more; aiming for key locations in the enemy vessels; cannons boiling over with energy; before letting it rush forth in a brutal, cleansing wave.

Glowing skin of blue wrapped around the ships as the enemy continued their bombardment, but in return they recieved many blasts of Sarian energy cannons. The darkness of space being almost turned to day by the shear number of the blasts.

And the words of fire came to the men, and Cars'es beseeched them again with winged words, Oh thou demons of fire and steel, mere devices of mortal beings! We are the sons of the Gods, the children of the seas! And as the waves will soon crash and destroy all your blasphemous devices from your worlds, so shall we now wash over you with great speed and strenght.

And all around him took heart in these words, and pressed on harder and more fierce into the fray of battle, most resorting to their blades of hissing energy in the close quarters, simply leaving their blasters where they stood until later when they would push forth again with the great engines of doom.

And Diomedes of the glancing helm jumped forth with his blade, mind set to wreaking havok upon those that would defy the words and teachings of the gods! And forth he went, proppelled by his legs, towards a busy devil, stretching forth his arm to kill the beast. And landing once again on the glowing deck, he spun round and with blade, slashing at any who got too close, his armor still glowing as enemies around him attacked.

And it was Moe'tin who jumped to his aid, slashing and swinging his own great sword of blue energy, like the water itself. And a defence they formed themselves against the oncoming enemy, destroying all who came too close with winged intent. But the ship rocked as a mighty blow was delt from the devils armada, sending Moe'tin of balance and falling to the ground, only to be overtaken by the countless forces of both sides marching over him until a blade finally found his head.

Space was dark. Space was empty. It was space . . .

An’dyne space, to be specific . . .

The vast bulk of the[i]Defiance[i/]rippled into existence as it came out of warp speed, moving slowly and gracefully like a falling flower petal in the wind. But there was no wind here, only an endless sea of void . . .

The[i]Defiance[i/]was not alone for long however, as space around it soon exploded in a cascade of bright, rippling pinpoints of light who shimmering surfaces signalled the arrival of yet more ships.
Mostly escort and supply craft, but also another cruiser. The[i]Defiance’s[i/] sister ship, the[i]Absalom[i/], was by no means as impressive in the way of armaments as it’s heavier counterpart, but made up for it’s lack of turret-mounts and fighter bays with a smashing mass of comm.-towers and sensor arrays.

Establish a foothold. Recognisance. Hide within the dust nebulas. This was the first step in the Loquari incursion.