NationStates Jolt Archive

WARNING: Language, Violence, and other Nasty Bits inside.

It is a funny thing, to die. An unfortunate side-effect mortality brings. One barely feels the burn of skin boiling against hot metal; or the stench of singed bone, flesh, and hair; or even the sensation of thousands of nerves uttering a deafened cry of despair. One must wonder what such a paradoxal experience evokes: to descend in icy-darkness from a heated blaze. A moment when conscious and tangibility merge together and form one conclusion: you are no more. There must be some time whence death and life co-exist. In that fraction of a fraction of a millisecond, one is both alive and dead; a doomed soul in a dying shell. What is this...this moment like? Alas, none can breathe wisdom into these muses. All one must do...no. All one can do is to pray to whatever forces dictate the cosmos for a long-distant, but swift, end.

Minaarhy did not have a chance to pray - not that he would have - as shrapnel blew a gore-splattering hole through his sternum. His Firebird, his beloved Va Themgiir, burst in a grinding shriek of metal, fuel, and oxidized life-support systems. Minaarhy never saw the thing which ended his life - a Moash Va French'ek Abomination - as it fired a terrifying hail from FPC batteries. No ceremony; no mourning for the dead. Nothing. As though it were a traveler passing through some busy road, the Abomination slid lazily through the still-glowing rubble. Flash, flash, flash. The maneuvering rockets began to light-up with the tremendous effort of turning the bulky, 10 meter bulwark to face its oncoming opponents.

War was upon them. Now Death was high in the air.

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“Batteries...open fire!”

Red bursts of Fusion-produced Plasma ripped forth from the side of the Va Ytreck Carrier Archindar into a line of Moash Dechanik Cruisers. The ponderous Cruisers attempted to broad-side the Archindar, slowly bringing their massive railguns to bear. A flickering crack, a shower of crimson heat. The FPC volley from the Archindar breached through the heavily-armored Dechaniks; rupturing the volatile Fusion cores, causing plasma to vent through layer-after-layer of compartmentalized hull. As the remnants of the Fusion cores were expelled through the ships - almost instantly cooling upon touching the cold vacuum - the few-remaining Dechaniks blasted blue-white rounds from their railguns. The copper/cadmium pellets rippled through the weak shields of the Archindar, puncturing enormous holes in the Capital Ship’s side.

The entire bulwark of the Archindar groaned and creaked with the volley, forcing those aboard to grip tightly to the loose-railings and equipment that bedecked the bridge. As warriors frantically grabbed at whatever surface they could, one could see which were the more experienced. The eldest warriors did not move, but merely swayed with the convulsions of the ship. A single man sat in the center of the bridge, standing at an enormous consol. His 6' 4" frame was covered from head-to-foot in light ceramic armor. Mocha-colored skin could be seen on his head and bare arms - as could his tattoos. Dozens of wild tattoos covered his face, neck, and limbs. Most were simple circles, diamonds, and squares with different-colored centers, but a few - such as the horn-shaped tattoo adorning his right arm - depicted strange creatures, objects, and other runes. This was a man whom all onboard respected. A man whom all House Heraan revealed. He was the Mundokiir - the “Heart of crushed Garnet, the eye of Fury." The General and Admiral to All Forces of House Heraan. And, of course, he was the captain of the Archindar.

“Turo'mar,” the Mundokiir said calmly in his deep, rich voice; never gazing up from his consol screen. As the Mundokiir’s charcoal-eyes moved across the flickering screen, reading the results of the raging battle. Another confirmed kill. Moash Cruiser support in this area was all but eradicated, although Heraan strike-craft losses were mounting. “Turo’mar,” the Mundokiir continued, “have you yet organized our warriors for combat? Those Moashi bastards seem to be trying to disable and board us. If they succeed...I do not have to tell you what the consequences would be.”

Turo’mar, who seemed to be half-asleep in a corner, nodded at the Mundokiir’s words. Turo’mar rose to his feet without a word, the ruffling fabric and thud of his ceramic armor greeted his movement. Turo’mar too was adorned with some tattoos on his neck and face, though they were very different from the Mundokiir’s. Almost all of them were diamonds with white centers: though how many was hard to tell as the tattoos moved beneath Turo’mar’s armor. Turo’mar had startling green eyes, though they had no warmth. They were hardened with years of slaughter...the seasoned eyes of a warrior. Turo’mar touched the back of his jet-black pony-tail, a rough, mocha hand running up and down the bulb, before he spoke. “As you wish, Varakash,” Turo’mar said with a cool, smooth voice. He turned towards the door of the bridge, bouncing slightly as another salvo hit the Archindar’s hull, avoiding the jostle of metal beneath his feet.

“Turo’mar,” the Mundokiir said sternly, his eyes still flickering across the screen as he barked orders between his thoughts, “you wi- Kara’mak, tell Odoniir wing to concentrate on those Frunch'eks. They’re tearing us apart. I am sorry, Turo’mar, you will refer to me as Mundokiir while under fire, lest I call you by your other name...”

“Turo’mar froze, turning around swiftly. He gave Varakash such a piercing look, his eyes might have turned into javelins to hurl at his superior’s head. There was some...fear in his eyes as well. Turo’mar knew the Mundokiir would not speak his true name, but the message was clear enough.

“Yes, Mundokiir,” Turo’mar said subserviently, bowing slightly as he did so, “I will now go organize the warriors.” Turo’mar darted from the bridge, taking great, leaping bounds across the thin-lined hulls.

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Outside, the situation was turning grim for Heraan forces. The Moash cruisers had been destroyed, their glowing hulls like bloated whale-carcasses in the Sea of Space. Still, it had all been a ruse: six fully-loaded Y’track Carriers had jumped into the system. They began to belch fighters into the fray: Va Themgiir and Themgiir Firebirds and Frunch'ek Phoenixes. In total, there were at least six-dozen strike craft barreling towards the Archindar and it’s light defenses. As soon as they came into range, the Archindar began to fire volleys from its railguns. 100 mm, 150 mm, 200 mm - enormous blue-white bullets raked across space. A few careless Firebirds were ripped into shreds as the salvo hit their frail ships, but most knew how to avoid these slow-moving rounds. The real test came as the strike-craft neared the Archindar itself. Two Storm Chainguns, each composed of eight inter-locked Hail Chainguns on a swivelled-mount, began to blast dense screens of bullets at the oncoming swarm. Chaos. Shear Chaos. Ship after ship was torn asunder by the fire-screen. Still, it was not enough. A few Phoenixes, moving ever-so-slowly forwards, let loose a storm of Radar-guided Missiles at the Storm Chainguns. The larger Phoenixes even fired 100 mm railguns at the hull, piercing large holes in the turret’s small frame.

There was no hope now. Nothing. The Heraan force was all-but destroyed, and the Moash group was pressing forwards. The Heraan fighters became disheartened, turning tail and began to land in the Archindar’s launchbays.

But, there was one ship that remained.

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His eyes filled with blood and tears, Nyiaarh shouted a death-cry as he plowed his Thunderhead into the hoard of fighters before him. Live, die: it mattered not. Minaarhy was dead. His Blood Enemy was dead, and Nyiaarh could not save him. As his sleek ship closed to the Moash vessels, both ends of his Thunderhead erupted into green light. The Thunderhead Lance, the experimental weapon the Thunderhead was built around, tore through Firebird and Phoenix armor like a hot-knife through butter. As Nyiaarh spun almost uncontrollably, turning his vectored thrusters and other maneuvering jets, ship after ship began to fall. Nyiaarh did not want to live. He wanted to be laid low by one of those Moash fuckers. To join his Blood Enemy beyond the Veil. But...it did not happen, did it? Was he dying? Instead, Nyiaarh felt his world shrink around him into blackness: nothing but shadow surrounding his heavy eyes...

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Without so much as a twitch, Turo’mar plucked the Moash’s larynx. As the deceased body convulsed with instinctual shock, his imbrued throat began to spray a crimson stream high into the air. Turo’mar did not hesitate as he bounded over the fallen’s corpse, letting loose two shots from his blaster. One of the Moash invaders tried to repel himself off the wall to knock Turo’mar off his feet; but such thoughts stopped quickly as his head ruptured from Turo’mar’s blaster, spraying brains and gore onto his two companions. The two others screamed with rage, charging blindly at Turo’mar with their blades outstretched. The fools should have sat back and fired, for as they closed Turo’mar wove near the base of the invaders. Never uttering a sound, Turo’mar swung a savage blow into one of the Moash, almost severing the head with his strength, before driving his fist deep into the other’s chest. As the hot, viscous sensation of blood flowed over his bare arms, Turo’mar shook the corpse from his hand. With a sickening squelch the body dropped, the Moash’s clouding eyes wide with shock. Turo’mar calmly walked up to a nearby phone-jack, and picked it up: leaving blood-stained fingerprints on the grey handle.

“Mundokiir,” Turo’mar said calmly, flicking some chunks off his arm with his free hand, “we had some visitors. A few Moash must have snuck aboard in the excitement with the Cruisers. Or, who knows, maybe one of those Abominations moved close enough. The point is, be on the alert. We don’t know what w-“ Turo’mar’s eyes widened with rage, his teeth gnashing. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, RETREAT?! WE’RE GOING TO RUN AWAY?! W-WHY?!” Turo’mar growled under his breath as Mundokiir explained their situation. In a sudden, quick flicker, Turo’mar drew his blaster and fired it down the hall, striking a half-hidden Moash soldier square between the unprotected eyes. A sharp intake of breath, a rushing yellow light: and the Moash boarder was surrounded in darkness.

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Already, the Archindar’s bulk was turning and twisting towards the nearest Heraan system. As it pointed towards the Hya’th Nebula - a great cosmic-storm that interfered with jumpsystems, the ship began to charge-up its Hyperdrive. A great whirring sound, like a fan-belt revving up, began to groan throughout the ship. The last fighter, a single thunderhead, suddenly drifted into the Archindar’s landing bay as though something was pushing it.

“All hands,” rain the Mundokiir’s call within the Archindar, “prepare to jump on my mark.”

A brief pause as the last coordinates were plugged in. Heraan Listening Outpost HP-4, sixty-three parsec from the edge of the Hya’th. The groan became louder...stronger...more powerful.

“Jum-“ Mundokiir began to say, but soon a great shattering crash interrupted his speech.

A thermonuclear bomb, hidden onboard a ship disguised as drifting wreckage, slammed itself into the engine of the Archindar. With a sickening crack, the back-end of the Archindar twisted, causing the ship to swivel a dozen degrees or so off-course! But, it was too late for the Moash victory, as the Archindar’s tale began to be consumed by the blast the jump-engines fired up. With a zooming sound, the Archindar accelerated with great speed and vanished in a flash of white.

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*FLASH*

The Archindar’s hull drifted aimlessly in space, fires raging across the end of the ship. Engines were completely off-line. Sensors, weapons, and life-support were barely operating.

The Mundokiir wasted no time, barking orders to those on his bridge.

“TELL EVERYONE TO EVACUATE SECTIONS 34-52, WE ARE GOING TO HAVE TO VENT THEM!” Mundokiir shouted, pressing a host of buttons on his consol. The alarm was raised, as dozens of Heraan warriors struggled to free themselves from the flames, decompression, and sucking might of the fire.

Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty.

The Mundokiir, and those onboard could wait no longer.

With a sudden, grinding shift the hull-doors from sections 34-52 were closed. It was a rushing sound: air, machinery, weapons, fire, and bodies alike all flung out into the cold, dark vacuum of space. Soon, inner hull-doors were closed and re-pressurized, while outer-doors were left closed.

The Mundokiir fell onto his palms, bracing his body on the consol as he murmured with a thick, husky grunt, “How many warriors did we loose?”

A young warrior, whose arms were covered with a half-dozen tattoos, looked palely at the Mundokiir. “Only...only a few made it out, M-mundokiir,” he struggled, his face contorted with grief, “I..we won’t know a full number until we have a head-count, Mundokiir.”

The Mundokiir did not look at the young warrior, but merely nodded. There was a pause, as the Mundokiir seemed to shrug off the horror that had just ensued. He was looking at the star-charts in this system...and nothing looked right. He had never seen these before. What...what was that?! Was that...it was.

The Hya’th. But, it was not pointed towards the Archindar, it was on the other side.

They had passed through the Hya’th. They were in uncharted and unknown space.

“Stay awake!” Mundokiir said sharply, quickly cutting through the somber attitude of the ship. A half-dozen warriors actually jumped in their seat, “Monitor this system. If you see anything peculiar, anything different, deep-scan it immediately. If they prove to be a threat, we shall see what happens. Quickly, go. But, do not give away our position. Passive scans until we confirm a target, understood?! We have survived, brothers! Archindar, “She who refuses to die,” has earned her name once more!”

There was much cheering onboard the bridge, the tragedy of the day quickly forgotten. The crew began to hurriedly set the sensors for a wide-sweeping passive scan. If something jumped next to this blue-and white gas-giant, they would know about it.

And then, we would see how the Universe would react to the Aurorans...

OOC: Okay, so, you know the drill! This in an intro post, so it’s a first-contact situation. A few rules, though:

1) Do not come in here looking for a fight. I kind of want to have a cultural interaction with, perhaps, some cooperation in a conflict. I don’t want a massive fleet to swoop down and kill the Archindar. Okay?
2) Please use capital letters. I really can’t stand people who only use lower-case letters.
3) I’m a low-grade FT civilization, with some parts a little more advanced than others. Keep that in mind.
4) Remember, too, there will be a language barrier. I would rather not have a universal translator. Although, if you want, something written might work well...
5) Human only, please.
6) I only want 2-3 players. Too many more and we’re going to have a lot of conflict.

As a final note, I must say it’s good to be back. I was an older nation about a year or so ago when I got tired and quit. Well, I’m back now and it’s time for fun! If you have suggestions, questions, comments, or ideas, don’t hesitate to telegram me.

OOC: Bump. Oh, and the Archindar is approximately 1200 meters long.

OOC: Bump

ooc: I hope I'm acceptable?

Ic: It was an interesting coincidence- in all the vastness of space that two vessels might actually come together by shear accident. Nonetheless, it happened. As the K.N.S KieVork entered the system, a flash of bright, pure light emanated from its arrival. For an instant, it was still; then, with all the force its mighty engines could muster, the massive ship surged forward.

Onboard the dreadnought classed SC of Kazecistan:
"Sir, destination achieved."
"Scans commenced."
Dozens of stations began to call out readiness. The only one that made it to the captain situated in the center of the main deck of the bridge, however, said this: "Ship detected! Status unknown, life indeterminate, affiliation unrecognized..."
"Move in, let's get a closer look. Raise shielding."

And so it did. As the ship drew closer, it began to broadcast in text and in sound: This is the K.N.S. KieVork, a ship of the Kazeci navy. We came in peace on a mission of exploration. We mean you no harm. We wish to open relations.

ooc: I hope I'm acceptable?

Ic: It was an interesting coincidence- in all the vastness of space that two vessels might actually come together by shear accident. Nonetheless, it happened. As the K.N.S KieVork entered the system, a flash of bright, pure light emanated from it's arrival. For an instant, it was still; then, with all the force it's mighty engines could muster, the massive ship surged forward.

Onboard the dreadnought classed SC of Kazecistan:
"Sir, destination achieved."
"Scans commenced."
Dozens of stations began to call out readiness. The only one that made it to the captain situated in the center of the main deck of the bridge, however, said this: "Ship detected! Status unknown, life indeterminate, affiliation unrecognized..."
"Move in, let's get a closer look. Raze shielding."

And so it did. As the ship drew closer, it began to broadcast in text and in sound:

OOC: Yeah. I just wanted to screen n00bs from posting stuff like, "i see the ship with my super dreadnaught destroyer i move in and shoot it!!!!!1!1!11!!"

IC:

It had been over five hours, and still nothing. The remaining Moash boarders were found and slain by Turo’mar and a handful of soldiers. In total, twenty-seven had been found and slaughtered: most by Turo’mar’s hand. Still, it was a grim day. 128 souls had been lost in the fire or the cruel vacuum of space. As the sixth hour came near, Varakash called all to assemble in the Honor Hall within the Archindar.

Turo’mar and the Mundokiir (Varakash) were sitting together -solemn and statuesque- surrounded by warriors from the few surviving strikecraft and the gunners. Varakash, being the Mundokiir and the superior officer onboard the Archindar was administering tattoos to those warriors who had seen combat. Turo’mar, now bare-chested, felt the tinge of the laser-tattooer upon his flesh. One, two, three, four, five. More and more tattoos were added, until finally Varakash stopped. Twenty-three new red diamonds with white, black, and grey centers, each one telling a tale of how Turo’mar killed an aggressor in combat, were placed next to hundreds of others like it. The other warriors around Turo’mar felt awe-struck and small next to an Auroran of such honor and accomplishment. Across Turo’mar’s chest were tattoos similar to those on his neck and cheek: except for the center of his chest. On his solar plexus was an enormous tattoo of an animal-like claw with steel blades. His Death Tattoo; marking Turo’mar as an Elder Warrior who had spoken to the War Gods. As warrior after warrior stepped up to Varakash - all of them, including Varakash, wearing only a loin-cloth (and a strap for the women) - the Mundokiir applied more tattoos. As the line dwindled, many warriors began to brag openly with each other about their accomplishments. One warrior, named Ak’mar, proudly bore a square-shaped tattoo with a black center: evidence of killing a Cruiser. Ak’mar was boasting to several of his friends, who had also earned a fair-share of tattoos that day, of how his single Phoenix had honorably stayed under-fire from a group of Firebirds as he fired volleys of FPC into the bridge of a Moash Cruiser. Ak’mar’s laughs of joy and pride were shared by many warriors around him: for they had survived and killed many against overwhelming odds - there was no deed more Honorable.

Still, not all was so joyful. Many received black bands of shame for their desertion of their duty when the Moash fighters attacked. Even Ak’mar received one - though even so grave a badge as this was unable to quaff his spirits. For many, it was a lukewarm day: honor gained and lost. Permanent pride with permanent shame.

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The final Auroran to receive tattoos was unconscious when he was brought before the Mundokiir on a soft, cloth litter. His entire body was bruised, beaten, and scarred. It was obvious this man had been treated for wounds, for the scars were already highlighted with bright-red and black tattoo ink. As the laser-tattooer touched his mocha-skin, the warrior awoke with a start: gazing at the surrounding crowd with deep-brown eyes.

It was Nyiaarh.

Nyiaarh arose with a start, causing the laser-tattoo to fly out of the Mundokiir’s hands. Nyiaarh looked as though he were to speak, but he suddenly whinced and fell onto his makeshift bed. Every organ felt like it was on fire.

“Sssssk...ow! What is going on, wh-” in an instant Nyiaarh knew where he was. He bowed his head shamefully, gazing down at the Mundokiir’s feet as he said, quickly, “I...I am sorry Mundokiir, I was confus-”

“Do not worry, Nyiaarh,” the Mundokiir said jovially, shaking his head as he laughed, “it is completely understandable. I am amazed you did not strike at me: that shows much reservation and control. Now, if you will lay down and allow me to give you these Badges of Honor, I can send you back to your softer bed.”

Nyiaarh was confused, and turned a weary eye onto the Mundokiir. “What do you mean? Why am I to receive Honor?!” Nyiaarh barked stubbornly, closing his eyes slowly as he did so.

“Why, you destroyed four wings while others fled for safety!” the Mundokiir said warmly, giving Ak’mar and others a cruel gaze. Ak’mar shifted a bit and looked down, lowering his voice sheepishly. “You killed almost twenty fighters,” the Mundokiir continued, continuing to look at Ak’mar, “without your help, we might have been killed.”

“I do not deserve those badges of honor,” Nyiaarh said stubbornly as he shifted his weight to face his back to the Mundokiir, “I am a terrible warrior. A terrible friend.”

The Mundokiir was filled with rage and puzzlement, unsure why this warrior would deny himself such honor. Then, suddenly, he understood.

“Minaarhy.” the Mundokiir said softly, lowering his head and smiling to himself, “your Blood Enemy. He was killed, I believe.”

“Yes.” Nyiaarh said simply, closing his eyes tightly in an effort to fight back tears. He was a warrior, he could not weep.

“Then, Nyiaarh,” the Mundokiir said with his cool, calm voice, “we shall honor your achievements and your failures.” The Mundokiir placed the laser-tattooer once more on Nyiaarh’s chest, which the warrior did not struggle against. Twenty circles with gold centers: destroying twenty enemy fighters alone without hope of rescue. And then, across his arm, a single, black mark. A mark of shame.

“There,” Mundokiir said solemnly, helping to raise Nyiaarh’s arm so he may see, “is this acceptable? To you believe this to reflect your shame?”

Nyiaarh looked at the black spot that would never come off, and nodded once before laying on his stomach. The Mundokiir shook his head and cast a pitiable gaze on Nyiaarh, when suddenly a cry echoed through the ship. “Mundokiir, please report to the bridge!”

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Contact! At last, a ship! The Mundokiir, now donned in his ceramic-armor vest and leggings, looked at the message transmitted to the ship. It was strange...old runes he had seen once or twice on some of the further-out planets. The Mundokiir was unsure how to reply to this, and stood unsure for several minutes. Then, with a sudden stroke of brilliance, he transmitted the following message:

*A picture of the Archindar with an arrow pointing to one of the fighter-bays. In which awaited a human man with outstretched arms.*

With that, and a few barked orders, the Mundokiir opened the Aft Dockingbay: rushing down to see if his invitation was understood.

"We're receiving a message, on screen now."

The ship came to a halt as they attempted to interpret.

"Well, the message is clear enough."
"But they don't seem to understand Kazeci."
"Not suppressing."
"But it is a very logical language and fairly close to English, which many groups seem to know."
"In this vast universe? We're lucky that more peoples don't speak other languages."
Interrupting the conversation which seemed to have been joined by every member of the deck, the captain spoke. "It's simple, though, they want us to land in their bays. Why sit here and talk when we can go meet them? Come on, get moving!" This, of course, sent many scurrying back to their seats.

It wasn't but 10 minutes later when the massive door to the main bay opened. A small transport came fourth from the seemingly vast mouth about it. Two more followed in chevron formation. They made good time- being built to our run and out maneuver all but the very fastest of ships. After a bit of an acrobatics show, the 3 sleek sliver crafts touched down in the bay shown in the message.

Out of each of the two flanking craft came 14 honor guards, in full dress uniform. After forming up with 11 from the lead transport, they were joined by 3 robed figures. Each had many layers of clothing draped about them, blending the many soft, earthen colors from olive to beige to mocha. Diplomats. All of them, guards and diplomats included, bore large whitesilver staffs.

Ooc: not quite finished, but need to go, sorry.

"We're receiving a message, on screen now."

The ship came to a halt as they attempted to interpret.

"Well, the message is clear enough."
"But they don't seem to understand Kazeci."
"Not suppressing."
"But it is a very logical language and fairly close to English, which many groups seem to know."
"In this vast universe? We're lucky that more peoples don't speak other languages."
Interrupting the conversation which seemed to have been joined by every member of the deck, the captain spoke. "It's simple, though, they want us to land in their bays. Why sit here and talk when we can go meet them? Come on, get moving!" This, of course, sent many scurrying back to their seats.

It wasn't but 10 minutes later when the massive door to the main bay opened. A small transport came fourth from the seemingly vast mouth about it. Two more followed in chevron formation. They made good time- being built to our run and out maneuver all but the very fastest of ships. After a bit of an acrobatics show, the 3 sleek sliver crafts touched down in the bay shown in the message.

Out of each of the two flanking craft came 14 honor guards, in full dress uniform. After forming up with 11 from the lead transport, they were joined by 3 robed figures. Each had many layers of clothing draped about them, blending the many soft, earthen colors from olive to beige to mocha. Diplomats. All of them, guards and diplomats included, bore large whitesilver staffs.

Ooc: not quite finished, but need to go, sorry.

OOC: That's fine. I'll wait for you to finish.

Also, if anyone else wants to join in, feel free.

ooc: Thanks for understanding, here's the rest.

Ic: The staffs bore intricate etchings and gleamed in the light. The butts were finished off with a teardrop shape, rounding out to flat on the bottom while the tops were finished with an oval like bulb. Slowly, each of the three diplomats nodded their heads. They would speak, but they knew not this race's language. The next move was out of their hands, and thankfully so.

The contingent that stood behind them was unusual for Kazeci diplomatic missions. Normally only eight guards would accompany them, but seeing as the ship had just come from battle and language barriers had not been broken, they felt it best to be on the safe side.

In space, a ship drifted, its long dark form almost silent on to the naked eye in the blackness of space. The craft drifted through space, before making a fluidspace jump.

The Command Deck of the RSG Luyrinx.

"Superior!" The shout echoed across the deck. "We have two Contacts!"

"Identify!" the order came back from the Black Armoured Figure sitting next to the captain. The Captain looked at him with annoyance. He hated this job, ferrying the self importent Noble to some world. The man had a presance about him, and there was no doubt that he was one of the Kings Chosen, the mark that adorned his eye proved against it, but the man was ruling HIS ship, and the crew followed his orders.

"We Have a Kazeci craft, as well as an unidentified." He said. "No weapon exchange, I will assume there is peace between the two."

"Then why are we wai..."

"Contact the Kazeci Craft, find out whats happening" The Noble said. The Captain began to protest, standing as he did. In fact, he was so abrobed in his complaining, he never even felt the dagger piece the back of his brain, then withdraw.

"I am one of our lords Chosen, as well as a Assasian of the Temple of Khaine. Follow out your orders!" he said to the staring crew.

From the RSG Luyrinx: Allied Code Zhennu
To The Kazeci Craft: Thin band Transmission.

Hail my brothers. We are here on a mission, but we decided to halt and make sure you do not require assistance. May we inquire into what happens in this area?

End Transmission

The captain was in a good mood, though the reasons for it were unknown to most of the crew. You most certainly may.

We were on a mission of exploration when we encountered this vessel. We have yet to break the language barrier, but they appear to have just come from a battle. We have just landed diplomats onboard their vessel. Care to join us in diplomacy? Not that we aren't equipped to represent the whole of the Republic, but-

I'm rambling, aren't I? Sorry 'bout that.

Commodore Renamar looked at the viewscreen as his warship exited warp-space. His Hyperion-class Battlecruiser Foundation's Edge had led his task force deep into the K'landir Nebula to hunt for the Eternal Enemy. They had found him there and fought a glorious battle. The task force had defeated the enemy, but at great cost to their own. His force was wrecked, and far away from home. But the task force was repairing in a dense asteroid field, all 16% of the task force. His task force would barely be called a capital squadron now.

"Commodore. We have incoming ships. They are not ours, nor do they belong to the Eternal Enemy."

Renamar looked at his sensor officer. Ensign Hilarmi. Ensign... Replaced Lieutenant Pelar. So many dead.

He checked the tactical display. A decent sized ship. Maybe about 1/2 the size of the Foundation's Edge and very damaged.

"Flight Control. Send out a Havoc Squadron under cloak. Tell them to watch the ship. We shall, maybe, open inquiry with them. It has been so long since the Empire has had any contact with other races of this galaxy."

So many dead in the eternal conflict. One conflict already ended with one Ancient Enemy. But this battle would never end. At least not in his lifetime.

EDIT: OOC: I'm so in on this. Okay fine, netral space it is. But it's near my space, k? Cause I've already written this up. Is that okay with everyone?

IC:
Cina Gate Outskirts Legally not within Hiigaran-Controlled Space, 100km out of boarder
The Cina gate, which took in hundreds of ships every day, was quite busy this day. Ships hummed in and out of the gate, respecting the lanes that they had been told and keeping their vectors and speeds. Occasionally there was one who deviated, but the local dock and lane forces were always quick to correct such ships. Any ship that would have jumped into the area, sensors intact, would notice two things immediately. Firstly, there would be the large shipping lanes around them that were packed with ships of all varieties and races, filled with all manner of goods moving to and fro. Secondly, one would notice two fields: One was a massive FTLi field, which was relatively weak at the carrier's point in space, but grew with suprising strength as one neared the gate to prevent intruders from getting any closer to Hiigara than possible, and secondly a tunneled FTL field for use of ships to get nearer to Hiigara in order to drop off their goods. However, for the damaged carrier that presented it's self to the Hiigaran boarders this day, it would not notice either with great effeciency until its damaged sensors had been restored to their former glory.

Cina Gate Control Tower
This was the nerve center of Cina gate. The gate, a massive trade and economic hub for thousands of races bound to anf from from the Hiigaran Empire, was always busy. The controller's room was filled with screens, projected onto seemingly thin air, and many men and women were linked with the screens and comms of all varieties, telling the hundreds of ships where to go, what dock to use, authorizing the use of the FTL gate, ordering tuga and utilizing forward sensors to pick up Turanic Raiders that often swarmed the lanes in an attempt to disturb local economy and grab some quick cash. And today, of all days, was a recoed-breaking day: five-hundredfourty-two ships in and out, and only a quarter of the work-day had passed. Unfortunately, raiders had noticed this as well, and had been driven off - rather quickly -- by the sight of the Battlecruiser Razgriz.

Battlecruisers were goliath, five kilometer ships that were designed over a thousand years ago, and were posessed of enormous power. So great was their power that the Hiigaran Empire, a nation who had known war at home and abroad since even before the exile thousands of years ago, had only ever had twenty of these mighty vessels in their posession at any given time. The Turanic Raiders that attempted to invade that day had caught sight of the mighty vessel patrolling the outskirts of the lanes, probably doing manouvering excercises, and had quickly -- and wisely -- left the system. But not before the local Tanis-based Strikecraft got to gnaw a piece out of them.

"Sir," said one of the forward sensor monitors to their superior, the controller Dastun Hrall of the manufacturing kiith Hrall, "I've picked up an unknown vessel in sector two-three point one. Size exceeds kilometer, initial scans reveal it to be damaged, and of the carrier class.

The controller, who was busy trying to avoid disaster as a massive Kunde-class tanker approached the main dock looked at the man directly, and synched up his data with the forward sensors. He was shocked at what he saw...an unknown carrier class vessel suddenly appearing?

"Your orders?" said the monitor.

"We do not yet know their intentions. Initial shots convey to us that it is not a Raider vessel. But an unknown carrier within our boarders is not to be taken lightly. Tell Razgriz to jump to coordinated imediately and consort with the unknown vessel."

"Yes sir. Sending transmission now."

Battlecruiser Razgriz, Bridge
The Battlecruiser Razgriz, the newest of the battlecruisers -- only two-hundred-fifty-two years old, was moving steadly at onethird speed, assessing the damage caused in their combat drill. They had wipedout the first three Hive carriers, and nearly taken the norn queen vessel with them, but had died due to boarding by the five-thousand pods shot at them by the attack fleet. Unfortunately, they had failed to powerdown the maglevs that ran people and supplies throughout the ship before the hive had swarmed over half the vessel. However, that's what drills were for, weren't they? That was the thought that ran throughout Captain Blazae Soban's head. He tapped at the report, looking at it. If only we had bracketed the enemy sooner, then we might have--, however, his thoughts were cut off as his communications officer blurted out, "Sir! Incoming transmission from the controller. Unknown carrier-class vessel has jumped into our nearby space. They are unknown in origin and intention. They request that we jump to their coordinates and investogate."

The Captain let the words echo in the room before he said, "Fine then. Jump to unknown craft's position. Set distance to one kilometer away, put us starboard side with them."

"Yes sir. Powering up core now," exhaulted Edge, the ships' AI. She loved any chance to jump -- it was so interesting, and moreover, it was a challenge for her. After all, if eleventh dimensional physics dealing with multiple masses over a span of five kilometers plus interfearance from nearby planets and gravity wells couldn't prove to be a bit of a challenge for her, what could? The ship jumped into the void, and exited only seconds later just as the Captain had ordered: Broadside with the unknown carrier, one kilometer away.

"Jump completed, Captain," Edge reported.

"Good. Status report."

"All systems nominal. There seems to be a Kazeci vessel interacting with the carrier."

"I see. Open up channels withe the Kazeci vessel first. And remember, we're technically in neutral space," said the Captain.

Message To: Kazeci Vessel
Greetings. It is so rare these days that a Kazeci military vessel approaches our boarders, however you have every right to. And today, it appears that you have a legitimate intrest to. We would ask of you what information you have aquired on this vessel and its occupants. May the Republic live on.

Message To: Unknown Carrier
You are about to penetrate Hiigara-Controlled Space. Please state your commanding officer's name, nation of origin, and your access statement to enter our space. If you are not posessed of such information, please halt, accept an open channel from us, and explain the circumstances.

ooc: I prefer neutral space near your nation to space directly in it.

Empryia: I have no objection to you joining, but prehaps you would like to adress the fact that there is more than one ship in the area and 6 hours have passed since their arrival?

OOC: My starships probably wouldn't have ventured so far into another nation's space, so we should probably be in some form of neutral space. Close to your nation is definately fine though.

From the RSG Luyrinx: Allied Code Zhennu
To The Kazeci Craft: Thin band Transmission.

You work for the Republic, but I work for my master. His objectives are his own, and I am sure that he follows your republic well, but I am here to represent HIM, not his republic. Thus I shall join you. Perhapse the skill of a learned one would help you in the Language Barrier.

In any rate, my craft is due to be refitted, so I am sure we would be able to do the same for a craft in such a...use state. If you make any breakthroughs offer them the Service of Ygger Shipyards.

End Transmission

The Kazeci vessel sent a copy of the only communication it had had with the unknown craft to the Naggerothian ship. *A picture of the Archindar with an arrow pointing to one of the fighter-bays. In which awaited a human man with outstretched arms.*

The arrival of two more starships, of different styles than the first, led Renamar to launch two more Havoc Squadron's under cloak. He had instructed these latest two, however, to be armed with Paradise Anti-Ship Cruise Missiles. They were not be actively target the warships, but to be ready for instant battle readiness if need be.

"Ensign Hilarmi. Contact the Vagabond and the Fellowship. Tell them to move into flanking position of the Foundation's Edge. It believe it is time to greet these starships, in the name of the Emperor."

He turned to look at this Flight Control Officer,

"Commander Tilamin, launch our remaining four squadrons, and have them escort us."

The three starships, the battlecruiser and two heavy cruisers, powered up and maneuvered towards the three unknown starships. Their cloaks dropped as they powered up their engines, since only in near stillness could their cloaks be maintained. The warships moved slowly so as not to look threatening.

But the railguns were armed, the lasers charged, and shields raised.

The Royal Navy was always prepared.

"New ships in the sector! 3 of them and a fighter contingent."
"Come about and face them. Open a channel, let's see if they can understand us."
This is the K.N.S. KieVork, a ship of the Kazeci navy. We came in peace on a mission of exploration. We mean you no harm. We wish to open relations.

OOC: Right. Since my post was lost to the firstpage, I'll post it again here:
EDIT: OOC: I'm so in on this. Okay fine, netral space it is. But it's near my space, k? Cause I've already written this up. Is that okay with everyone?

IC:
Cina Gate Outskirts Legally not within Hiigaran-Controlled Space, 100km out of boarder
The Cina gate, which took in hundreds of ships every day, was quite busy this day. Ships hummed in and out of the gate, respecting the lanes that they had been told and keeping their vectors and speeds. Occasionally there was one who deviated, but the local dock and lane forces were always quick to correct such ships. Any ship that would have jumped into the area, sensors intact, would notice two things immediately. Firstly, there would be the large shipping lanes around them that were packed with ships of all varieties and races, filled with all manner of goods moving to and fro. Secondly, one would notice two fields: One was a massive FTLi field, which was relatively weak at the carrier's point in space, but grew with suprising strength as one neared the gate to prevent intruders from getting any closer to Hiigara than possible, and secondly a tunneled FTL field for use of ships to get nearer to Hiigara in order to drop off their goods. However, for the damaged carrier that presented it's self to the Hiigaran boarders this day, it would not notice either with great effeciency until its damaged sensors had been restored to their former glory.

Cina Gate Control Tower
This was the nerve center of Cina gate. The gate, a massive trade and economic hub for thousands of races bound to anf from from the Hiigaran Empire, was always busy. The controller's room was filled with screens, projected onto seemingly thin air, and many men and women were linked with the screens and comms of all varieties, telling the hundreds of ships where to go, what dock to use, authorizing the use of the FTL gate, ordering tugs and utilizing forward sensors to pick up Turanic Raiders that often swarmed the lanes in an attempt to disturb local economy and grab some quick cash. And today, of all days, was a record-breaking day: five-hundredfourty-two ships in and out, and only a quarter of the work-day had passed. Unfortunately, raiders had noticed this as well, and had been driven off - rather quickly -- by the sight of the Battlecruiser Razgriz.

Battlecruisers were goliath, five kilometer ships that were designed over a thousand years ago, and were posessed of enormous power. So great was their power that the Hiigaran Empire, a nation who had known war at home and abroad since even before the exile thousands of years ago, had only ever had twenty of these mighty vessels in their posession at any given time. The Turanic Raiders that attempted to invade that day had caught sight of the mighty vessel patrolling the outskirts of the lanes, probably doing manouvering excercises, and had quickly -- and wisely -- left the system. But not before the local Tanis-based Strikecraft got to gnaw a piece out of them.

"Sir," said one of the forward sensor monitors to their superior, the controller Dastun Hraal of the manufacturing kiith Hraal, "I've picked up an unknown vessel in sector two-three point one. Size exceeds kilometer, initial scans reveal it to be damaged, and of the carrier class.

The controller, who was busy trying to avoid disaster as a massive Kunde-class tanker approached the main dock looked at the man directly, and synched up his data with the forward sensors. He was shocked at what he saw...an unknown carrier class vessel suddenly appearing?

"Your orders?" said the monitor.

"We do not yet know their intentions. Initial shots convey to us that it is not a Raider vessel. But an unknown carrier near our boarders is not to be taken lightly. Tell Razgriz to jump to coordinated imediately and consort with the unknown vessel."

"Yes sir. Sending transmission now."

Battlecruiser Razgriz, Bridge
The Battlecruiser Razgriz, the newest of the battlecruisers -- only two-hundred-fifty-two years old, was moving steadly at onethird speed, assessing the damage caused in their combat drill. They had wipedout the first three Hive carriers, and nearly taken the norn queen vessel with them, but had died due to boarding by the five-thousand pods shot at them by the attack fleet. Unfortunately, they had failed to powerdown the maglevs that ran people and supplies throughout the ship before the hive had swarmed over half the vessel. However, that's what drills were for, weren't they? That was the thought that ran throughout Captain Blazae Soban's head. He tapped at the report, looking at it. If only we had bracketed the enemy sooner, then we might have--, however, his thoughts were cut off as his communications officer blurted out, "Sir! Incoming transmission from the controller. Unknown carrier-class vessel has jumped into our nearby space. They are unknown in origin and intention. They request that we jump to their coordinates and investogate."

The Captain let the words echo in the room before he said, "Fine then. Jump to unknown craft's position. Set distance to one kilometer away, put us starboard side with them."

"Yes sir. Powering up core now," exhaulted Edge, the ships' AI. She loved any chance to jump -- it was so interesting, and moreover, it was a challenge for her. After all, if eleventh dimensional physics dealing with multiple masses over a span of five kilometers plus interfearance from nearby planets and gravity wells couldn't prove to be a bit of a challenge for her, what could? The ship jumped into the void, and exited only seconds later just as the Captain had ordered: Broadside with the unknown carrier, one kilometer away.

"Jump completed, Captain," Edge reported.

"Good. Status report."

"All systems nominal. There seems to be a Kazeci vessel interacting with the carrier."

"I see. Open up channels withe the Kazeci vessel first. And remember, we're technically in neutral space," said the Captain.

Message To: Kazeci Vessel
Greetings. It is so rare these days that a Kazeci military vessel approaches our boarders, however you have every right to. And today, it appears that you have a legitimate intrest to. We would ask of you what information you have aquired on this vessel and its occupants. May the Republic live on.

Message To: Unknown Carrier
You are about to penetrate Hiigara-Controlled Space. Please state your commanding officer's name, nation of origin, and your access statement to enter our space. If you are not posessed of such information, please halt, accept an open channel from us, and explain the circumstances.

OOC: For specs on ships, see sig links.

ooc: Fine by me.

Ic: CT vessel: Welcome! It is always a pleasure to interact with you. Here's what we have so far:
The unknown vessel appears to have recently come from a battle. They do not understand our language or any common language, written or spoken. They have sent us a transmission with visuals. Apparently they welcome us aboard their ship. As it is, we have landed three diplomats and 39 guards onboard, they are attempting communication now.

You are welcome to join us in diplomacy if you so wish.

ooc: Wow, it's been a while, huh CT? Ever thought about getting on the off-sight forum and chattn' with us?

"Commodore! A Light Battleship class starship has just entered the system. There are of unknown origin, though their jump drive field contains similar wave-lengths of an ancient type."

Renamar looked at the plot. His remaining task force could most likely take the single starship, but most likely with heavy losses. His own Battlecruiser was .80 km long, and had installed a Micro-Jump Drive for quick maneuvering, and so did the Vagabond and Fellowship. He could escape if need be. He was not worried about it. The Royal Navy's Angel-class Fast Battleship was 2.32 km and Viture-Class Assault Battleship 5.1km.

But the transmission from that one starship intrigued him. He looked back at the plot. He was closing with the stricken light carrier-class ship, and his own scouts reported repairs underway. He felt the need to continue towards the ship and open negotiations.

"Contact the rest of the task force, tell them to await my orders, but to prepare for combat or instant disengagement if need be. And tell Ilunai's Light and Ilunai's Fortitude to expedite repairs of their fighter groups. We may need their assistance." The sister Assault Carriers were very much a crux of any attack this point. With the loss of the Strike Carriers Pride of Empryia and Eternal Glory, his powerful strike craft wings had been hurt decisively. Rearmament of any strike craft was necessary, especially the Warp-Jump capable strike-craft.

Renamar looked at his comm officer. "Have you a grasp of their language?"

He looked up at his commanding officer, his face pushed to the limit, "No sir, but shall I send a transmission in ours?"

"Yes, do so. Standard protocol."

This is the E.R.N. Foundation's Edge to unknown vessel. We come in peace. We would like to possibly begin relations with your people. We await your response

"What about the damaged ship sir?"

He looked back at the comm officer, thinking hard. "Offer them assistance. And contact the Vagabond and Fellowship to prep their squadrons for immediate launch. Oh, and get the Fellowship to launch her Havoc squadron to cloak and watch the Battleship"

The three warships of the Empryian Royal Navy stalked closer to the unknown starships.

OCC: EDIT: Changed size of the BBs and BCs.

OOC: Woah! I went to sleep, and, like, ten posts came down! Cool!
And Empryia, read the rules above, I do NOT want conflict yet (or perhaps ever) until I give the okay. Alright? We might fight you later.

Oh, and I do love Homeworld very much. Found it years ago at Costco and decided, “Hey, this looks like a decent game.” One of the best 20 bucks I ever spent.

Okay, so, give me a minute to figure out what happened everywhere and synthesis a response >_o

IC:

Varakash was generally overwhelmed. Three additional contact groups had appeared within the last ten minutes, of which each had sent transmissions in peculiar dialects and languages. Protocol aboard the ship was all but forgotten in the advent of the transmissions and the promise of visitors. Those warriors who had the luxury of being off-duty when the ambassadors arrived were running around preparing themselves. Indeed, even Turo’mar was oiling his body and adorning sweet-smelling Burngrass on his underarms and neck. And if Turo’mar was trying to make himself “smell good,” then one knew this was an important event.

“I can’t make heads or tales of it, Mundokiir...” said the ships’ code-breaker, a young Heraan woman named Marllash. She was of the same mocha colored skin as her kinsmen, and her 5'5" frame had a host of tattoos upon her arms and waste. She was to be off-duty, so she was adorned in the woman’s variety of a loincloth (slightly thicker than the mans’) and thin strip to cover her bosom. Marllash rubbed her eyes with frustration, sighing and leaning back in her comfortable, black chair. With an exasperated look at the Mundokiir, Marllash’s thin lips curled into a sweet smirk.

“Varakash, can I speak frankly with you?” she said in her usual curt, low voice. She had known Varakash for a long, long time. They had both lived on Heraan Gulag; they had both trained under the same master; they had even been lovers for a time, though both did not like to reflect on that disastrous relationship. If anyone else had called Varakash by his name, they were in danger of earning a black band.

“Yes, Marllash, you may,” Varakash said with a shake of his head. He laughed slightly, unable to contain his mixed affection and exasperation, “although, I thought you always spoke “frankly” with me? Is there a change in the humors of Great Marllash?! Oh, my, a thousand pardons! I had no idea you had developed a sense of humor in the last few days!”

“Oh, my, I get it. A joke,” Marllash said curtly, fixing Varakash with an icy stare, “well, I may be a cold-hearted bitch but at least I didn’t need coaching on how to please my man.”

Varakash looked at Marllash with a furious glare, who sent the like back. A pause. Then, slowly, surely, Varakash’s face began to break with a series of titters. Marllash followed suit; her cold-eyes hit with flashes of warmth from each laugh. Neither could hold it back anymore, and broke out into exuberant laughing. Varakash actually leaned on his knees for support, his sides felt like they were to burst at any moment. Marllash too, though she had the chair to lean on as her mirth caused her body to shake with delight.

It was a few more moments before Varakash, wiping the tears from his eyes, said, “I am...*heh*...sorry, Marllash. I ha...*he-he*...I have not seen you for several days. It was....*sigh*....it was just my chance for revenge.”

“I figured as much,” Marllash said, shaking her head. In an instant, she had regained her dignified, curt tone, as she spoke to Varakash again. “As I was saying before I was so...ineffectively interrupted.” Varakash began to titter again. “I have, perhaps, some idea of where these languages come from. But I’ll tell you, some of these are just plain...well...peculiar. Simplified persons, genders, places - as far as I can tell. If you want my expert opinion, I should accompany you and speak to the ambassadors directly.”

“I was already going to, Marllash,” Varakash said, scopeing her with a sly eye, “but, is that the only reason? I’m sure the idea of seeing some big, strong warriors whom you haven’t spent countless hours with is exciting?”

Marllash blushed a little at this, but replied in her usual curt tone, “Varakash, I would be more worried about you. We know they’re human. We know they’re at least friendly enough to help us. Who knows? Perhaps they are a race entirely of beautiful women.”

Now it was Varakash’s turn to blush, but he did not come with a witty retort this time. Both sat in the room, as an awkward silence threatened to engulf them all. Varakash and Marllash could not look at each other, but they could not leave. They both knew their old relationship could not come back. Love was a strange thing; they still cared for each other, but they could not live with each other. It was several long minutes before Marllash broke the tension.

“So,” Marllash said cheerfully, standing to her feet and waving towards the door, a smile on her face, “shall we get going?”

“What? Oh,” Varakash said dreamily, suddenly recalling a passionate night they had shared on Listening Post 5. He was immediately filled with intense emotions. Desires. He would have loved nothing more than to rip that thin strip off Marllash’s chest, hold her tightly in his arms, and fuck her brains out. But...Varakash knew what was simply hormone-driven rushes and what was true love. Even if something like that were to occur, it would not end well. “Yes,” Varakash continued, walking to the door, “and I agree with you. You would be an excellent diplomat.”

-+-+-+-+-+-

On the landing bay, sixty warriors were in their full. Each one boasting a horde of tattoos, jewelry, and even some captured weapons. Most of them were unusually well-groomed. Their bodies had been washed of grime and sweat, oil had been applied to their chests and arms so as to accentuate their tattoos and colored scars. Many had adorned Burngrass to their underarms, neck, and back: which smelt like feint sage. Some of the men had molded their hair into fierce shapes: one even replicated the “lightning-bolt” pony-tail that Warriors of Old were supposed to have worn. Most of the single women had applied a special kind of wax to the sides of their face so as to reflect the light of the ship. This was, of course, a way to tell any of the honorable warriors from the vessel they were quite single and ready for a lover. The men had a similar practice. If women came aboard, they could either hang their heads or stare at them: to stare showed they feared no women and were, therefore, taken. To hang their heads signified they were signal (and interested).

As the transports landed, the warriors all murmured in excitement. Such...alien designs! How wonderful! How brilliant! Varakash was excited too, with Marllash pulling at his side. Although, he was a bit annoyed, for Turo’mar was nowhere to be found. “I swear...” Varakash thought to himself, “even if he is on special assignment, I won’t hesitate to toss him out of the airdock.”

Then, a hiss. The doors of the other ships opened. The tension was mounting. A single foot could be seen exiting the craft...

As the honor guards exited their spaceships, there was barely-concieved tittering and laughing amongst the crew. Who were these people?! Look at them! Where were there tattoos? Had they all done nothing in their lives. Soon, the occasional laugh had turned into a frantic buzz as the soldiers all began to mock the newcomers in the Heraan tongue.

“HALT.” Varakash shouted in Heraan, raising his hand so as to silence the warriors, “DO NOT INSULT THESE GUESTS, OR I WILL COVER EACH OF YOUR ARMS WITH BLACK MARKS.”

The warriors all fell silent very quickly, looking shamefully at the newcomers.

Varakash whispered to Marllash as the diplomats entered. “Tell me, do you recognize anything?”

“No, Var- I mean, Mundokiir,” Marllash whispered as she smiled at the diplomats, “but I suppose they’re human. I mean, it’s quite odd. No tattoos...no loincloths. You would think they were ready for battle...”

Varakash nodded, feeling slightly vulnerable donned only in his loincloth. “At least,” he whispered, “we can rule out your woman-theory.”

Marllash giggled before holding a hand to her mouth. “Don’t...” she said sternly, trying to hold back her laughs, “let’s not make me look like a fool, okay?”

Varakash smiled as he stood tall. He listened to their strange words and walked forwards; his death-tattoo, depicting an inky-black splotch that adorned most of his chest, was in such contrast to his body it made his frame appear larger and more-powerful.

“Greetings,” Varakash shouted, holding his right hand with a balled fist to his left shoulder. “I am the Mundokiir, the Heart of crushed Garnet, the Eye of Fury. You have come to this place with my grace, and I hope you will treat me as such.” Varakash waved his hands, and two young warriors, both had only a half-dozen tattoos, dashed forwards. They placed two trays of sweet-smelling cakes on their heads, acting like rudimentary tables. Varakash walked over, unabashed to the looks that came from the diplomats, and picked up one of the cakes. He took a bite, demonstrating they were safe to eat. Likewise, Marllash approached as well, grabbing a cake from the other platter. They both took bites in unison, examining the entourage with piercing, hawk-like eyes.

OOC: Okay, so, here we are. NO MORE PEOPLE CAN JOIN. I’ll let everyone else here whose posted so far. Also, I kind of want this character-heavy, so design your posts as such (if you would be so kind). Also, remember, I do NOT, repeat, NOT WANT CONFLICT YET!!!

Oh, and in case you didn’t get the message, I send that picture to each of the other ships who contacted me. Just assume that, okay?

ooc: I don't Know of any damaged ships in the area other than yours and the unknown carrier.

Also, aren't 19km ships a bit big for a nation of your size? I don't even have 19km ships (although if I really wanted to I could scrap a large portion of my navy...)

Ic: The transmission was repeated to the Empryian vessel with an addition. This is the K.N.S. KieVork, a ship of the Kazeci navy. We came in peace on a mission of exploration. We mean you no harm. We wish to open relations.

Also, your message will not be answered in language, they do not speak either yours, mine, or that of other space-fairing nations in the area.

It was a curiosity that they had such a high battle readiness, seeing as all the ships in the area had friendly intent. Nonetheless, they would not put up with foolish decisions and would retaliate in a heartbeat if they fired upon any of the ships in the area, seeing as all of them were allies or had Kazeci personnel aboard. Over all, it was likely best if they powered down weapons.

ooc: Character heavy, alright. You've got some pretty famous Kazecis aboard your ship then. Sounds like fun.

Ic: One of the three diplomats remained silent and so formal it was almost stuffy. Bryce and Daniel weren't fans of John.
Bryce spoke softly to Daniel as they each took one of the cakes. "I must say, they are a bit-"
Daniel cut in, "Different? Remember your manors Bryce, we have duties."
"Ah, but their cloths, so reveling. And inking their bodies? Did we interrupt a day at the spa?" What Bryce was referring to was a rather erotic experience. People would come to a spa to have their entire bodies painted by attractive members of the opposite gender. Generally, this was done before parties or special occasions when they could show off their new body.

Daniel waved it off, "In the middle of a battle? Nonsense. There is surely another reason for these patterns. They do seem to have at least attempted to look nice though."
"Because they are oiled and scented?"
"They made an attempt." Daniel said hopefully. The entire conversation had been carried out without either one looking at the other, and they did so quite well.

Whispers and chuckles had been growing in the ranks behind them and they only grew after the others were reprimanded. John turned and snapped at them, "Ironic, isn't it? That you now are laughing at others for doing exactly as you? Is it funny that their officers had to whip them back in place? Is it funny now? We are on a diplomatic mission and-"

Bryce tried hard to stifle his laughter, but it was still evident. Daniel, who was chuckling herself, attempted to get him to stop. "Stop it."
"You think it's funny too."
"Just let him be, it makes him feel like he has power."

John, hearing her, turned with fury and opened his mouth as if he were about to say something only to close it again.

Daniel nudged Bryce. "See what you made me do?"

By this time, Varakash was greeting them. "What's he saying?" Bryce asked, still smiling from a moment ago.
"I haven't a clue." She replied through a false smile.
"Would you two just shut up?" John cut in angrily.

When he was done, Each of the three diplomats gave a small bow- barely more than a nod of the head, and introduced themselves, hands clasped together at their chests.
"I am Daniel, Diplomat of Kazecistan." Quite politely.
"I am Bryce, Diplomat of Kazecistan." Still laughing on the inside.
"And I am John, Diplomat of Kazecistan." His tone was rather annoyed, but he tried not to let it show.

OOC: Agreed. The 1.2 km vessel is the largest in the Auroran navy. Even an up-and-coming ship (which is supposed to be crazy-awesome) is only about 500 meters long.

Now, for a shortish post...

IC:

Marllash dropped her cake suddenly. As the confection crumbled and broke apart on the floor - which was normally a sign of great disrespect - Marllash cusped her mouth with two thin, strong hands.

"D...diploa-mates!" she said heasitatingly through her fingers, eying the "Diploa-mates" Marllash's hazel eyes were near-wattering in excitement. "Diploa-mate...diploa-mate...diplomat...diploamate..." she began to repeat quickly and earnestly, pacing a bit around Varakash.

Varakash smiled weakly, trying to calm the members before him. She looked like she was going mad. "Marllash..." Varakash whispered harshly, though it was quite easy to hear as he was so near the visitors, "...what in Kontik are you doing?! You disrespect them...and me...by tossing your cake to the ground, now you pace like a maniac...what are y-"

But Marllash interrupted him with a single raised hand. He turned to the "diploamates" and said with her curt, low tone, "Healo. Wea are frieands. Ehhh...frieands form paest...uh....kaurrirr...uh...eh...neb...nebunae? Nebuleae...Nebulae! Nebulae! Wea are frieands form paest nebulae!"

Silence. Awkward silence.

Varakash looked at Marllash with wide-eyed amaisment, barely able to string out a few words in Heraan. "Wh...how di...I...uuuh?!"

Marllash laughed heartily, shaking her head with amusement. "Think of it, our great Mundokiir. Listen to the words. What language do we know that sounds like that, huh? All these "aes" and "oas"? "

Varakash concentrated for a moment, fixing his eyes in a concentrating squint. "I...I do not kn-"

"Tekel."

Varakash and Marllash spun around to see Turo’mar, looking absolutely stunning with his brightly oiled and sensuating chest. With his full form visible, one could finally see the honor this warrior held. Over a thousand small diamond tattoos covered every square inch of his body, the familiar claw-like tattoo still firmly in the center of his chest. There were a dozen special tattoos wrought from impressive battles and events. Dozens of scars, highlighted with black, gold, red, and green, were visible on his chest, arms, neck, and back. As he walked towards the Varakash and Marllash, his eye caught that of Bryce's. His eyes, normally dead, suddenly sparked up with a deep, hawk-like stare. But, they quickly ebbed back as he looked from Varakash to Marllash.

"Tekel." he said again, his cold, low voice like an autumn wind, "it is quite similar to a varient of Tekel. One of the older dialects used on some of the outer-systems. I believe the Houseless Ones still use it from time to time." Turning to Marllash he added, "Would you agree?"

Marllash, upon hearing the word "Tekel" for a second time, lit up with excitement. "Y-yes!" she said quickly, nodding her head, "yes, as I was going to say. It's a butchered version of Tekel. Much simpler, with much more atherial-like vowels." Marllash paused, looking at Turo’mar as she said, "How did you know?"

"I've been listening to some chatter outside..." Turo’mar responded smoothly. He never looked at Varakash, but instead whispered with the skill of a seasoned ventriloquist, "In fact, that's why I came here. There seems to be some activity going on. I haven't told anyone anything yet, but another ship has begun some...hostile actions. We don't know what's going on, but it seems our visitors here might have brought friends."

Varakash did not nod, but instead gave a clearing of the throat to indicate that he heard Turo’mar. "So," he said, realizing that such a long conversation must have caused the diplomats some concern, "can you speak to the-"

"Please," Turo’mar had already begun in a near-flawless version of the Kazecistan's speech, "do not be frightened. We referring to ourselves are not here to harm you reffering to yourselves. We are referring to ourselves from the House of Heraan from the Empire of the Aurorans. We referring to ourselves come from beyond the Nebulae whence no ship can cross. I am Turo'mar. This is the Mundokiir, the Heart of crushed Garnet, the Eye of Fury. He is a true Warrior and Leader of our people, and you referring to yourselves will treat him referring to the Mundokiir with respect."

Marllash gaped at Turo'mar, and whispered to Varakash, "Where...did he come from again?"

"I'm not at liberty to say..." Varakash said absent-mindedly, thinking how Turo'mar had been assigned so quickly to his ship by the Heraan House. His knowledge of Tekel language was...well...masterful if he could figure out such subtle changes. Varakash wondered...for only a second...if Turo'mar might be a spy. But, no...not him. Not...well...he would not think about it anymore.

OOC: Oh, I wasn't planning on starting anything. Though, going to combat readiness would make sense, when a ship twice your size decides to show up ;). I guess my use of the word 'stalked' implied something that wasn't meant to be implied. Most of the ships of the Navy are 5km and below (98% of the Navy). Battleships, (not necessarily Light Battleships) are a rarity and reserved for certain times because of the time and resources needed to build them (though the Monarchy has no problem stripping entire Solar Systems to get the materials needed to build them if their firepower is required). A Battlecruiser is usually the ship to lead a task force (consists of 40-150 ships) because of the rarity of Battleships, especially in this galaxy.

BTW, the Empryian Monarchy isn't wholly made up of humans because the majority of the Empire is in another galaxy. It contains a polarity of two races of which humans make up about 41% of the population (41/49/10). Though most of this task-force, including Renamar, is human. And I hope my transport wasn't sent to your ship. Just theirs, correct? I'm going to work off that assumption, if I need to change anything, just let me know.

And you don't have to worry about them being "All-Powerful," They die just like everything else. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. His task-force is down to 16% of its total ship count.

IC:

Commodore Renamar sat back into his command chair and watched the plot. He watched as the three starships of the Empryian Royal Navy glided forward silently, their gunports and missile launchers inactive as they approached the stricken carrier and the three orbiting starships. Running his hand through his black hair, he sat there and contemplated his next move. It was a dangerous gamble, but one he could not afford to pass up. To meet other species, and seemingly human too. No Sidarim present among them, though that was not suprising. Humanity seemed to be the great plague that had swept across the universe. Save rats of course. Rumor mill supposedly had definitive proof that the universe was conquered by rats and that humanity was just along for the ride.

He had a hard time trying to disprove that one.

While trying to find a more comfortable position in his chair, Hilarmi spoke up, "Sir, we have another incoming transmission. We are adding it to the translator system. We have to keep them talking though. Shall we send back another message?"

Renamar studied the plot. Sixty-thousand kilometers out. He turned to his Flight Control Officer, "Tilamin, what do the Havocs tell us?"

The Sidarim male turned to his human commander. Gray eyed, wispy blonde haired, pale skinned, muscular but lean, and with the sharp ears of his species, he was the standard bearer for everything that a Sidarim male should be. And with that god-damned sing-songy tenor.

"Nothing out of the ordinary. We've been unable to do anything but surface scans, for fear we might trigger their ship's alarms. I felt it prudent to make sure they did nothing to trigger another interstellar war."

And the arrogance. The ever present Sidarim arrogance. But then, Renamar remarked to himself when your race has been travelling the stars while my own is still a primordial mass in the seas, you kind of have some right to a little haughtiness.

"Good. Send back a reply to the starship. Standard message. Maybe they have a translator system that works similar to ours. Send different messages, pictures with accompanying words and pronunciations. Maybe they will understand and reciprocate."

She turned back to her console and began work.

"Wait!" Renamar said, "Just don't flood them. We have no idea how they will respond to a mass bombardment of messages. They might think of it as a virus or such. Just slowly."

This is the E.R.N. Foundation's Edge to unknown vessel. We come in peace. We would like to possibly begin relations with your people. We await your response.

We are now transmitting images and pronunciations of our words in a hope that you will understand our language and reciprocate in the same manner. For the good of our nations.

Bird,
Water
Mountain...

He turned back to watch the plot and felt the temperature of the entire bridge two degrees. He knew that feeling. He knew that feeling well. An old friend had stepped onto his bridge. He immediately stood, turned, and bowed in deference.

"Excelsis Guardian."

The others on the bridge quickly did the same. All showed deference to the Excelsis Guardians, for they were the physical representation of the Emperor for where he could not be. Guardians were also representations of the Emperor's Will, but not as an Excelsis Guardian. Excelsis Guardians could take command of an entire planet, and entire task force, and even order their complete suicide down to the last man, woman, and child if need be, and none could argue. Their rule is absolute.

But Renamar still retained command of his starship and of his task force. And he knew it would stay that way, unless Agents of the great enemy bordered his ship. Then he would be at a loss, and would have to transfer command to the head Guardian aboard his ship, for he could not combat the Agents of the great enemy, but they could.

And the crisp sing-song mezzo-soprano cut through the stillness of the bridge, "Return to your duties please." As he looked up at his bridge crew, he watched as they moved as quickly as they could back to their stations. He took a little satisfaction as he watched Tilamin fumble to compose himself. He took a little satisfaction in watching all of the males on his bridge fumble to compose themselves, especially the Sidarim.

Though he could hardly blame them. He too had a hard time looking. She was beautiful in the most exquisite sense. She wore the black plated psy-armor of her position, with the gold plated wreaths around her shoulders. Her long black hair was wound tightly down her back, and her piercing green eyes shined upon her face. At her side was the ceremonial long-sword of her position, and the powerful spear upon her back. She was beautiful, and deadly, trained in the ancient Sidarim ways of Athalas-Khadarma. That, of course, unfortunately barred humans from becoming Guardians, for they did not have the genetic makeup to fight in the Athalas-Khadarma style.

Still though, even though she was Sidarim, looking upon any Guardian was hard for Renamar. They were all the same: Beautiful, Tall, Powerful, Radiant, and completely female.

She glided, not walked Renamar always noticed. It is much too graceful a walk to just 'walk'. "Commodore," she whispered to him, "Have you noticed the small craft? They are carrying a high-percentage of humanoid forms."

"Of course..." he paused, "You're not actually thinking of getting in one, are you?"

"No, I am not. But you are."

He sighed in resignation. You could not argue. "Very well. Who will accompany me?"

She smiled at him and he almost melted right there, "My six sisters aboard the ship will accompany you. Seeing as how they are all human aboard the other ships, I suggest taking with you a few humans to form a core delegation. Let my Guardians be Guardians. You are, after all, the highest ranking Empryian Military Officer in this system, and therefore are the will and might of the Emperor."

He acquiesed and nodded, "I shall prep the shuttle." He turned quickly,

"Tilamin! You have the bridge. Hilarmi, Larkem, Joseha, Warthe, come with me. Put on dress uniforms. Meet me in hangar bay 6 in twenty minutes."

And as the three ships lumbered onwards, a small shuttle with an escort of four Tormentor Interceptors left the Foundation's Edge hangar bay, on route to the carrier.

Kazeci was the 'logical' variant of a language that seemed to have sprung up in every society at some point before memory. Its words had roots similar to the roots of words in many other languages, but it added prefixes suffixes to everything. Verbally, is was easy to convert, but one would miss out on all of the bits of information contained in the word endings if they did not know them as they combined many words. His speech was a bit overly clear, repeating words that were unnecessary in the first place, but it was understandable, and that's what counted.

Bryce was surprised at the speed with which they picked up something that close to Kazeci. "Thank you, we wish to be friends too. You all have our respect."
John was a bit impatient. "But the reason we are here is to open relations and offer aid. Your ship appears to have recently come from battle, we are in a position to offer assistance with repairs."
Daniel cut in, hoping to releave the urgency John seemed to put out. "Perhaps it would be best to sit down and begin talks about future relations between our peoples?"

OOC: Empyra, okay. But remember, 5 km is still freakishly long for anything. Honestly, most ships should be under 1 km in length. I mean, think of modern-day carriers and their size: they're usually 850-950 feet long, which is just shy of 260-290 meters. But, whatever. I don't really care so long as you take certain limits into concideration if battle should (and it shouldn't yet) arive.

Oh, and as for the languages, the Aurorans were settled long ago by humans. The Tekel, the ones whose space is closest to the "outside world," still have a language similar to english-like languages.

One last question, before I post, is Bryce a girl? (Just checking, since I know a guy named Bryce.)

ooc: Bryce is male, John is male, Daniel is female, 2/3 of the guards are male. Bryce and Daniel have a bit of chemistry which they try hard not to admit.

ooc: Bryce is male, John is male, Daniel is female, 2/3 of the guards are male. Bryce and Daniel have a bit of chemistry which they try hard not to admit.

OOC: Hotcha. Okay, here's the post.

IC:

The Auroran comlink officers couldn't make heads or tales of the Empyra message. What was that? Okay...they could pronounce "Mountain" and see a mountain...or was it a valley? Or a mountain range? Moreover, how many persons did this emanate? Did they have the six persons of Auroran speech, or were they more complex...or perhaps simpler. Still, they began to write down the pronunciations and attempt them...with pitiful results.

-+-+-+-+-+-



Turo’mar lowered his head and placed his right hand upon his left shoulder when Bryce and John spoke. After listening intently, all the while staring with calculating eyes, Turo’mar said, “Thank you refering to yourselves. I am not sure if assistance will be needed...I will ask.” Turo’mar was about to pass on the information to Varakash, when he heard Daniel cut in. With a half-glace and the young woman, Turo’mar looked sheepishly down, and spoke in a soft, reserved tone,"Yes, radiant one, that is a good idea. But we have more pressing matters to start with." (“Radiant One” was a common Auroran compliment for a young lady.) Turo’mar quickly re-adjusted himself and turned to Varakash, conveying all that was said in the rapid Heraan tongue.

Varakash nodded in agreement, speaking to Turo’mar once more...though this time, he spoke in Tekel. Although some of it was similar to Kazeci, most was unintelligible.

“We will be happy for your assistance. If you will join us for a night of festivity in your honor, we will talk about aid, trade, and other future relationships.” Varakash tried to say, only to be stopped by Turo’mar.

“Not to upset your Mundokiir, but I don’t think they understood a word of that,” Turo’mar whispered into Varakash’s ear, causing Varakash to chuckle a bit at his own foolishness. “If I may, Varakash.”

“You mean Mundokiir,” Varakash said quickly and sternly, giving Turo’mar a quick look, “do not forget that.”

Turo’mar nodded, and turned to the entourage, making sure to look down whenever Daniel’s eyes caught his own. “We referring to ourselves, the ship, and the Mundokiir Varakash himself, would love to have your, referring to yourselves, assistance. If you referring to yourselves wish, you referring to yourselves may be able to join us referring to the Mundokiir, select crew members, and others, for a celebration of new beginnings. If you, referring to yourselves, wish to partake in these festivities, then please strip your, referring to yourselves, robes bare and eat a Urrikiir, ‘That Which Brings Peace and Prosperity.’”

With that, Turo’mar gestured at the platter of cakes held by the two Auroran warriors, smiling tensely. To reject such an offer was not a good sign at all...

-+-+-+-+-+-

All the while Turo’mar spoke, Marllash bit her lip in an effort to stop herself from laughing. Why did he look down when that "Daniel" woman spoke? Marllash thought with a gossipy-like inner voice. Could he...oooooh...he does! Marllash did not hear Turo’mar as he gave his speech, save for the end. With that, Marllash jumped up as though startled by something. A furtive pause, as Marllash scouted the room for any onlookers who might have seen her little “twitch.” But, no one seemed to focus on her. With a sigh of relief, Marllash watched the guests with interest. I will have to ask him tonight, Marllash thought to herself, giving a sly look at Turo’mar as she did so, I didn’t know that man had a heart...

ooc: Suppose I ought to describe the object of your fancy? Watch out for Katie too.

Ic: Daniel’s polite voice whispered to Bryce as she absentmindedly stroked the silky red hair behind her ear and at the back of her neck. It rippled down to just below her shoulder, bringing one’s eye to the elegant and ladylike curves of her unblemished body, visible even through her diplomatic robes. "They want us nude?!"
"It's not a far leap for them right now, I don't suppose that it's uncommon in their society." came Bryce’s soothing whisper.
"But there's so many of them, I don't want to expose myself!" She responded, becoming slightly agitated.
"Neither do I, but it is there custom. Besides, it may be weird to us, but to them it's probably normal. They won't think twice."
"But then you'd see me, all of me." she urged.
The thought did excite Bryce, a chance to move forward in their relationship- to actually get that close. "For diplomacy?" He tried sheepishly.
"Oh, alright, but just this once. And be nice!"

Katie came fourth from the ranks of guards behind them. Her close-fitting tan and beige guard uniform moving with her body's graceful step. She quickly knelt then stood before speaking. "They expect us to come to a party nude?" She whispered.
"Quite so." Bryce replied
"Are we going?"
"For the sake of diplomacy." Bryce said as he glanced at Daniel, who responded with "Right." is a sarcastic tone.
"Good." said Katie with a sense of finality. She then turned on her toe and marched back into rank.
"Was that her booty walk?" Bryce asked, impressed.
"And if it was?" Katie had heard him. She too was attractive. More on the Asian side, her body was elegant, but to the point of excluding strength and power. She lead an elite platoon of soldiers and was one of the best fighters in the Kazeci military. Her presence commanded authority.
Daniel whispers angrily to Bryce, "What do I have to do to get that kind of attention from you?"
"I thought we weren't in a relationship?" He said slyly, knowing that she was now jealous.
John remained disgusted by the entire thing.

"We will attend." Daniel spoke. With that, Daniel, Bryce, Katie, and a few of the other guards that she had spoken to striped.
John began to protest, but was interrupted by Bryce, "If you don't want to, you don't have to. It's not like we don't all know that you've got a small-" Daniel nudged him hard but discreetly, silencing him and sending chuckles through the ranks behind them. They then proceeded to eat.

From the Ship, a shuttle launched. It was a Long Black craft, like a needle with 2 wings extending near the engines. It continued on without a halt, without stopping, towards the craft.

"My Lord...What is it you wish us to do?" A armoured form asked. The Lord wore Full Battle armour, the tattoo on his eye the Mark of A Chosen of The King. His armour was long and thin, with spikes protruding from it. It had a reprisentation of the kings, but the Helmate was lacking.

"You will arrive, that is all. I have no wish to be with these beings longer then nessersary." He said darkly back.

-It would be suggestable not to let anger take you Lord- The voice of the Sorceress said in his mind.

"Silence! I need not your voice. I will do this my way." He sneered back.

-I mearly point out, your an assasin, why in the devil do you try to be a Diplomat?- The voice showed contempt, especially on the fact that he was an assasin.

"What are you doing here anyway Hag?" He snapped.

-You call me a Hag? Thats rich, considering you work for a group of Necrophiliacs.-

"What!?" he roared.

-Don't think we don't know what makes your Priestess tick. Those Ceramonies are rahter disgusting...but anyway, pay attention, your arriving.-

He swore, as his ship came into the carrier. Damn that Sorceress whore, she had made him angry.

ooc: Suppose I ought to describe the object of your fancy? Watch out for Katie too.

Ic: Daniel’s polite voice whispered to Bryce as she absentmindedly stroked the silky red hair behind her ear and at the back of her neck. It rippled down to just below her shoulder, bringing one’s eye to the elegant and ladylike curves of her unblemished body, visible even through her diplomatic robes. "They want us nude?!"
"It's not a far leap for them right now, I don't suppose that it's uncommon in their society." came Bryce’s soothing whisper.
"But there's so many of them, I don't want to expose myself!" She responded, becoming slightly agitated.
"Neither do I, but it is there custom. Besides, it may be weird to us, but to them it's probably normal. They won't think twice."
"But then you'd see me, all of me." she urged.
The thought did excite Bryce, a chance to move forward in their relationship- to actually get that close. "For diplomacy?" He tried sheepishly.
"Oh, alright, but just this once. And be nice!"

Katie came fourth from the ranks of guards behind them. Her close-fitting tan and beige guard uniform moving with her body's graceful step. She quickly knelt then stood before speaking. "They expect us to come to a party nude?" She whispered.
"Quite so." Bryce replied
"Are we going?"
"For the sake of diplomacy." Bryce said as he glanced at Daniel, who responded with "Right." is a sarcastic tone.
"Good." said Katie with a sense of finality. She then turned on her toe and marched back into rank.
"Was that her booty walk?" Bryce asked, impressed.
"And if it was?" Katie had heard him. She too was attractive. More on the Asian side, her body was elegant, but to the point of excluding strength and power. She lead an elite platoon of soldiers and was one of the best fighters in the Kazeci military. Her presence commanded authority.
Daniel whispers angrily to Bryce, "What do I have to do to get that kind of attention from you?"
"I thought we weren't in a relationship?" He said slyly, knowing that she was now jealous.
John remained disgusted by the entire thing.

"We will attend." Daniel spoke. With that, Daniel, Bryce, Katie, and a few of the other guards that she had spoken to striped.
John began to protest, but was interrupted by Bryce, "If you don't want to, you don't have to. It's not like we don't all know that you've got a small-" Daniel nudged him hard but discreetly, silencing him and sending chuckles through the ranks behind them. They then proceeded to eat.

OOC: I'm going to reply to both tomorrow, but I want to know something. This is interesting, but this is going to create a stir. You didn't go nude, did you? They just meant down to loin-cloth form. After all, they're not nude...but I can understand how that might be conveyed...so, if you did, that's fine...I'll RP it... :p

EDIT: Actually, scratch that. I'll just hand you the garments. That'll make it easier.

ooc: Well they don't have loin cloths...

That will work out fine.

OOC: Aw...screw it. Here's a post today...

IC:

As the crew began to strip their garments, most of the assembled warriors began to laugh uproariously. Turo’mar, a mortified look on his face, raised his hands to the visitors. The Mundokiir shouted angrily over the crowd, “SILENCE! WHAT HONOR IS THERE IN LAUGHING AT VISITORS UNFAMILIAR WITH OUR WAYS?! EACH OF YOU WILL BEG FORGIVENESS AT THE CEREMONY TONIGHT OR FACE DISHONORMENT!!!” The crowd fell silent immediately, looking shamefully down at their feet. They all knew the Mundokiir spoke true, and were mortified they had ever slipped in that way.

Turo’mar conveyed a new message, beckoning for Marllash to come. “Please,” he said with his usual, cool voice, his eyes returning to their dead-like stare, “Please, you, pertaining to y...I believe you is all that is needed, correct? You do not strip naked. I apologize. I was not clear. What I meant to say was strip to your undergarments...but I see you have restrictive garments underneath your clothes. I am sure if you follow me and Marllash here, we will fit you all with reasonable attire.” Turo’mar looked at Daniel as she slipped off her cloths, quickly turning to look at the other men and women so as to avoid her beauty. Instead, his eyes fixed on Katie. This too, turned into a furtive glance to another person: for her beauty was reminiscent of one he had known long ago. One of the old passengers on that f...it didn’t matter. Time to drive the thought from his mind. Turning to the Mundokiir, Turo’mar said quietly, “Should I and Marllash escort these down to be fitted? We will join you when they are ready.”

The Mundokiir thought for a moment, then opened his mouth. But, before he finished, a voice appeared over a loud-speaker system in the bay.

“Attention, Mundokiir. Unknown shuttle-craft approaching. ETA: one minute.”

The Mundokiir nodded, turning to Turo’mar. “No.” he said simply, looking to Marllash instead, “But you may go. I have a feeling that Turo’mar’s experience in this language outweighs your own. Besides...Turo’mar isn’t the most...diplomatic...person aboard the ship. I think you will put them at greater ease.”

Marllash nodded, nearly laughing as Turo’mar gave the Mundokiir a death-stare. “Of course, Mundokiir, I aim to please.” Marllash said formally, giving a swift and deep bow while she still wore only the thick loincloth around her waist and a two-inch band across her chest. Marllash turned to the group of individuals, addressing the three leaders in turn. “Daniel, Bryce, and John. Pleasea. Weell yoau alle follouw ay?” Marllash said in her sweet, curt voice.

“No, Marllash,” The Mundokiir, said as he eyed the black shuttlecraft entering the bay, “one of them should stay. We may need their help. Ask them.”

Turo’mar asked instead of Marllash, “Would one of you please stay here? The others will go on to be fitted for clothing, but we may need help in talking with more newcomers. Is anyone willing to stay behind?”

As Turo’mar said this, the black shuttlecraft - a truly striking vessel - landed with a soft hiss.

"I'll stay" Came John's voice with a great sense of dignity. He had remained clothed and facing forward throughout the 'ordeal' as he would later refer to it with his 'friends'. The group now turned to face the new arrivals with anticipation.

And so, Daniel, Bryce, Katie, and 10 guards left. They followed the lead of the one who spoke poorly but with an effort, almost pitting them. Daniel blushed, ashamed of her misinterpretation. Bryce smiled, glad to have seen the object of his affection exposed to his eyes, then frowned, ashamed for 'taking advantage' of the situation to Daniel's determent. Slowly, he started to put his arm around her, but Katie had drifted in-between them, blocking him. She was not ashamed of her body, its grace nor its power. She proudly held her head high. Each of them still bore their staffs.

The Shuttle craft came in, its long sleek form touching down on the ground of the carrier. Within moments, the decent Bridge was lowering, and then it was there.

Lord Korlu, Assasin of the Temple of Khaine, chosen of The Sorcerer King, stood back in the shadows. As two guards moved forwards, their sealed body armour looking evil and cruel. The Bayonets on the edge where sharpened, and they had a sleekly professional look. Their faces where emotionless, and they moved with a grace expected of them. Korlu smiled, he himself wore the garb of his Status, the armour fit for a lord, with the face-mask of the Assasin. Standing on his right was a woman of striking beauty, the Sorceress Whore. His hand twiched, wishing to take the dagger and stab the woman in the heart, but his iron will held the hand in check.

Once the Guards had decended, he himself did. He watched the Sorceress move out of the coner of his eye, waiting for her to make a mistake.

When he arrived, he looked at John, then at the others.

"Do they understand us yet?" He said with a hostile tone.

"Never mind my friend" He heard the soft pleasent voice of the Sorceress say. "He lacks the...finer points of the Art of Statecraft, he has spent to long learning how to cause pain."

"And I will cause it to you if you do not keep your place you hag." He snapped, his hand put on his knife.

"You call me that considering the number of them you work for?" She snapped back.

OOC Ah, Sect Bitterness. I love this, sorry if It seems a bit much, but these two are being controled compared to what they do when their not restricted.

ooc: I think it's great, maybe an outburst or two from them? (If TAH agrees)

Ic: John stepped forward to great them. "At least one of them seems to have a grasp of Kazeci. If you wish, I can clarify to your dialect?" He glanced over his shoulder to the ‘primitive’ beings behind with just a hint of disgust. For the sake of diplomacy, and only for the sake of diplomacy, he did his best to mask his feelings.

ooc: I think it's great, maybe an outburst or two from them? (If TAH agrees)

Ic: John stepped forward to great them. "At least one of them seems to have a grasp of Kazeci. If you wish, I can clarify to your dialect?" He glanced over his shoulder to the ‘primitive’ beings behind with just a hint of disgust. For the sake of diplomacy, and only for the sake of diplomacy, he did his best to mask his feelings.

OOC: Yes, indeed.

IC:

The gall! The nerve! To come into a friendly meeting with weapons out, wearing that...that terrible armor. Already great murmuring whispers of anger were rushing through the assembled warriors. Many of them were straining their necks, eying the new assembly with increasing dislike. Even the Mundokiir was appalled at their behavior. If they had been Aurorans, they would have been dishonored and killed without a second thought. What was worse, that black-armor was a taboo among the Aurorans. Spiked armor meant a connection with the Lashers, mythical creatures with claws jutting from every inch of their body.

The Mundokiir whispered something to Turo'mar, squinting all the while at Korlu as he spoke. Turo'mar listened, sharing a similar look of disgust on his face. Within a few moments, Turo'mar broke away and the Mundokiir stepped forwards.

"I issue," the Mundokiir shouted, raising his tattooed arm high into the air, "an ultimatum. Remove your weapons, remove your Skin of the Lashers, or I will dishonor your leader and your company."

The Heraan assembled cheered at this, immediately flexing their muscles and moving adjetatidly in their columns. Turo'mar stepped forwards and translated what the Mundokiir said, stepping a few feet back behind the Heraan Warlord.

The Mundokiir, wearing only his loincloth, moved his body into a half-crouching position with arms outstretched to either side of him. He looked directly at Korlu and waited; his eyes showing no fear, his black-tattooed body a powerful figure awaiting combat.

-+-+-+-+-+-

Marllash walked through the winding corridors of the ship, passing Warriors who did not see the antics in the landing bay. The warriors were not dressed for formal occasions, so they were wearing the usual half-plated ceramic cuirasses and trousers. Their arms were left bare, unless they were working in dangerous conditions, to expose some of their tattoos. Hurried, exited whispers greeted the arrival of the newcomers as they passed. A few warriors whispered then laughed at them, of which Marllash heard but a few words.

"These are warriors? Where are their Badges of Honor? They are fresh and without deeds! Ha! How repugnant."

Marllash turned and looked at Daniel and spoke with her sweet, curt voice, "So, Daniel, ay juust wuntaed to knouw, ayre you alle 'umane?" Marllash smiled sweetly, the orange-light from some halls causing her many tattoos - covered with oil - to glisten in strange ways. It was suddenly apparent how many this apparently young girl had earned: her upper chest, arms, legs, and stomach were covered with a little over a hundred small tattoos. Two special ones also graced her body. One, just above her left breast, was a closed, grey fist broken with a green crane-like bird. The other, fixed upon Marllash's right arm, was a yellow, wounded eye bleeding over the silhouette of a woman. Surprisingly, there were no black bands on her arms or legs. She was an honorable warrior who had followed the Unwritten Codes with a fierce loyalty.

OOC: Okay, now as for the above post I just wanted to clarify something. I do not, repeat, do NOT wish for the Mundokiir to be killed. Don't pull out a projectile weapon or something...or, you know, just comply with what he says (though I doubt you will >_<)

ooc: Then I fear there is something you should know. You see the beautify engraved staffs of my guards and diplomats? They were brought mainly for formality and symbolism, but they happen to be the weapons with which my people fight- capable of firing lethal and non-lethal energy blasts and quite powerful in hand-to-hand combat. We know how to use them.

Ic:
Hallway:
Daniel smiled and looked up, her polite tone gracing those around her. "We are humanoid. Our people's genetic structure is slightly different from that of humans, but the differences are only minor and aesthetic. For instance, you see the patterns on our skin? They are natural." What she was referring to were the small blotches and short stripes of what appeared to be sun kissed golden skin that went up the spine, disappearing into the hairline. Several other places had them, but these were most notable. "We also happen to be a bit more flexible. Not that these differences matter much, we don't see ourselves as better than any others."

Docking Bay:
John translated, "They want you to remove your armor and weapons. They believe that bringing them here is a dishonor. They feel quite strongly."

The small shuttle coaxed closer to the stricken carrier and had found the hangar bay that the others had landed in. Five minutes out, so it seemed. Renamar had ordered the shuttle to stop after problems arose on the Firefox, he did not want to be interupted in the middle of diplomatic negotiations.

He sat solemnly, and listened as Hilarmi and Joseha chatted idlely about Empryian politics. The six Guardians in the back of the shuttle wore the white/silver and gold wreaths of their station, their own hair pulled back into a pony tail. They had, as always, brought their spears, and would not travel anywhere without them.

The pilot brought the shuttle closer. Only time would tell now.

OOC: I'll post more later today, the family has been having me do stuff with them all week.

Korlu smiled, moving his hand. It moved swiftly, undoing the cover on his face. His face was shown to the man before him. He moved his hand to his dagger, smiling.

"You have seen the face of he who would kill you" he said, before jumping to the attack. It was a brillient move, the unarmed man wouldn't stand a chance against the assasins daggers. Then, he was thrown back, as if a brick had struck him.

"You would dare attack a friend?!" the Sorceress screamed. "You will withdraw yourself! You dishonour Our Lord."

The man looked wildly at her, before jumping, his dagger flashing towards the sorceress. He was struck again, thrown across the room twirling. Before he landed however, he was struck again, he form smashing into the far wall, limp. The Sorceress Gestures to the guards, who all fell into a line, then pointed their rifles. Blasts of Blue Energy snapped out, ripping through the body that was limp against the wall.

"I am sorry to offend you, but in the same instance, tatoos dedicated to the Son of Light are offencive to us." she said, pointing to the tatoos across their body. "Can we simply come to the arrangement I will not remove your tatoos if you allow us to keep our armour and weapons?"

Razgriz, Bridge
"Sir," said Edge, "we're intercepting reports of Kazeci negotiations."

"What?" said Captain Blazae, "The Kazecians making allies before us, despit our presence?" he said sarcastically. "Prep an envoy, I shall attend personally."

"Yes sir."

Later...

The group of four -- the Captain, a diplomat: Melphina Hraal, and two guards in landmates were preping in launch deck A of the carrier wing of the ship, near the back. They would go in two diplomatic gunships; effectively striped down gunships that lacked weaapons in place of extra armor and sophisticated docking equipment that could adapt to fit and open on almost any airlock.

They were in the prep room, which was really a glorified locker room getting suited up for flight. The two of them were putting on their flightsuits as the guards were moving from the bridge -- their normal station -- to the dock. So, naturally, they had some time to burn. Melphina occupied it by letting her hair down and fitting her uniform better.

The uniforms, which were black and skintight -- they sealed when you got them on -- had the problem of scrunching-up, which became very annoying, and if you were male, sometimes quite painful. They were both in the same room, as nudity was entirely legal back home, and the prudence of such a society was nonexistant. However nonexistant that prudance was, however, Blazae was still amazed looking her up and down -- even in her suit. She was gorgeous, and so innocent. Another characteristic he enjoyed about her. She was so untainted by the world. Her black hair blended in well with the suit, and contrasted even better with her pure ehite skin. She turned around, catching his moving gaze. She blushed and walked off, putting her pitch black insigniated cloak on as she left, patting his head as she passed him. The door opened with a hiss, and closed with a thud. Blazae, who was also not hard on the eyes at all for those so inclined, suited up and put on his ceremonial yet simple cloak on, letting his red, scruffy hair and deep green eyes show, which stood in strange harmony with his light mocha skin and in great contrast with his black tight flight suit. He looked like an outlaw trying to impress a noble in his current clothing. His scars, normally visible all over his body in normal attire, were all but covered up for the sake of the envoy, a pleasentry as not to freighten people;all but the one scar on his cheek was hidden.He left the room, and entered the hangar where the ship preped for them was waiting. He found the door to the ship opened, the pilots ready and everyone inside. He walked onto the ship, door closing promptly behind him, and weaved in-between the two landmates and took a seat next to Melphina. The landmates, which were humanoid bodies piloted by humans that were in the chest of the landmate, were quite cramped, being twelve feet tall and carrying 30 mm rifles. The ship took off and moved toward the unknown carrier, hailing them as they went. They sent message of the diplomatic envoy to the Kazeci forces and to the carrier as they moved ever closer. The ship jerked around as it manouvered, and finally came to a halt near what way the Kazeci envoy had come into the vessel.

OOC: Sorry for crappy post, I'm a little hungover right now. Which should also explain why I wasn't posting for the last few days. We had a reunion of friends. Best fun I've had since German Trip. Anyway, for a better pic of what they all look like, google the words Gene Starwind, Melphina, and Outlaw Star fot the two and landmate for the landmates.

((Yay! now we have an 'Escape Velocity 3: Nova' civ.))

ooc: looking me up, DO? That's all right. I'll have you on your knees before too long.

Ic: John stood, stunned with what had just happened. His pale and sheltered body nearly in shock. Despite this, his face remained blank. The marks of a Kazeci diplomat, polite tone and blank face.

<.<...>.>...bump?