NationStates Jolt Archive

Of the First Sphere,
A Parody of That Which Is, seemingly lifelike but, beneath its surface, false.
Teeming with millions of living beings, yet devoid of life. Seething with growth, but dead.
This is the First Sphere of Phyrexia
The Second Sphere, the Vault of the World, a million miles of plain broken by the billions of columns that hold the world above it. The weight of the First is held by the Second, few dwell here, the condemned and rejected, doomed to forever maintain the Vaults. It is known to many as the Vaults of the Damned.
This is the Second Sphere of Phyrexia.
The Third Sphere, this is the Heart of the World, where the liquids and gassess of the other Spheres are proccessed, composed of endless pipes and vents, none live there.
This is the Third Sphere of Phyrexia.
The Fourth Sphere, the Burning Sphere, the Great Smelters, covered in the ashes of a thosand years of building, processing and reprocessing. Home to the Gremlins, the lowest of all saved the Damned. This is the home of many Phyrexian warriors, whose life is battle and whose pleasure is pain.
This is the Fourth Sphere of Phyrexia.
The Fifth Sphere, an endless sea of oil, which is the Blood of Phyrexia. Life exists here, creations of the Machine God, the Hidden One, who purify the Oil, and make it ready for use.
This is the Fifth Sphere of Phyrexia.
The Sixth Sphere, home of the Most Holy Servants of the Hidden One, it is they who carry out His will and enforce His Law. This is the place where His servants are Completed, seeking ever the perfection of the Machine. Composed of thosands of cells and rooms, it is the home of the laboratories of Phyrexia.
This is the Sixth Sphere of Phyrexia.
The Seventh Sphere is the Hell of Phyrexia, those who fail or prove unworthy of the Salvation of the Hidden One are placed here for punishment, a millenia or more may be suffered at the hands of Machine God's Will, for here His mind is strong, and those who he wishes to suffer do so. Many know this as the Recycling Sphere, where waste is converted into useful raw material.
This is the Seventh Sphere of Phyrexia.
The Eighth Sphere is a void of energy, the essence of the Hidden one which shines through the walls of the Holy Sphere, destroying that which is imperfect and empowering those who are. Only the mighties of the Phyrexian Lords dare to venture here.
This is the Eighth Sphere of Phyrexia.

The Final Sphere, the Holy Sphere, the Dwelling of the Hidden One, the Mind of Phyrexia, the Center of Phyrexia has many names, for it is the Dwelling of the Hidden One, it is as He wills it to be. No Lord of Phyrexia who has visisted the sphere has witnessed the same thing twice. None will speak of what they saw.

This is the Plane of Phyrexia, the Perfect World, the Machine World, the Nine Spheres.

---

"Open your minds! Listen to me! Only through the Machine may perfection be obtained! Do not let the lies of the False Gods dim your sight, for the Hidden One is more than they, the jealous Gods of the imaginations of your priests, greedy and pathetic. Only the Hidden One offers TRUE immortality, the salvation of the Body and Mind!"
It was standard stree-preaching, straight from the book. Whichever book that might be, there were so many.
Most people ignored this man, or glanced briefly at his artificial arm and eye. One or two, however, spoke with the man and, eventually, accepted his advice in joining the Cult of the Machine as it was known on this plane.

Scenes similar to this replayed themselves on a thosand worlds, only on a very few did many join the Cult, but it was enough. Eventually, a few acompanied the Priests to Phyrexia, and from there made their way to the Sixth Sphere, where they died.
But their deaths did not last long. Soon they found themselves awakened again. They retained their bodies, but they were made stronger, quicker, smarter...perfect. Eventually, they would return to their worlds, at the head of armies, commanding fleets. But that would not come for some time now.
The Priests returned to those worlds, and set about their duties. Converting more to the Cult of Perfection.

It was on one such world that Isaac was recruited. Of course, he was no longer Isaac, he was told his name was Daga'dez, and he was Complete. When he was merely human, his body had been weak and frail. He was wracked by a wasting disease which would, in a matter of years, claim his life. The only memories left to him of his time before Compleation were of his weakness as a human, and of the mockery that others made him endure. His failures, and how none appreciated the great strength of his mind.
On Phyrexia, they had removed his frail bones, his degenerating organs, his pathetically underdeveloped muscles. He now had arms and legs like the strongest steel, his bones would not break, his organs were ten times as effecient as the mightiest humans. Other improvements had been made as well. He was eight feet tall, his teeth were capable of biting through a steel cable, his eyes could see through the thickest smoke or fog, and he was immune to most poisons
Now he was back, at the head of a group of warriors.
The Temple stood before him, a huge stone assembly, painted in bright colours and chock full of gold and other valuables. He and his 'men' ignored it. They were after things more valuable than mere metal.
He took a step up the temple steps and a crossbow bolt THUNKED into his shoulder. He glanced at it with some annoyance before removing it and throwing it behind him. This was somewhat unnerving to the guards at the top of the steps, who hesitated.
A moment too long.
His mind, already strong, had been upgraded as well. Reaching out he tweaked the matter inside the guards heads, liquifying the fragile organs within. One or two screamed as the wave of force hit some sensitive part of their grey matter. All six fell down with blood and grey goo pouring from their noses and ears.
The Phyrexian and his warriors went on, a similar fate befalling any who opposed them.
Some time later, they found their goal. The vast Library. Gleaned from his mind by the Overlords, this place was a veritable treasure trove of knowledge. Some was heretical, some would be of vast use to the Phyrexian cause.
Daga'dez gestured to the warriors, who set about gathering the valuable books and scrolls, stuffing them into bags. No words were spoken, these warriors were full completed, an elite task force, capable of taking commands directly from the mind of their master.
One or two guards and other humans showed up, and were, naturally, killed. One, however, caught Daga'dez's attention. The master scholar, who had tormented him often during his days as a man, appeared and attempted some kind of spell, which bounced harmlessly off of Daga'dez's fine Phyrexian-made armour. The man knew everything there was to know about this library. His mind would be useful, although his magical abilities were apparently somewhat lacking.
Daga'dez took a step forward, a massive clawed hand reaching out to sieze the old man by the shoulder. The scholar attempted to dodge back, but he was getting towards sixty, and not as fast as he used to be. Daga'dez picked him up with one hand.
A memory surfaced, and he forced his features into a smile, showing his mouth full of razor sharp teeth. He spoke with his human voice, so very different from the language of Phyrexia, so inneffecient and cumbersome.
"Greetings, Master Scholar." Using his vocal chords was unpleasant, he went on anyway though, "Perhaps you recognize me?"
The old man glared, he had drawn a dagger and was vainly stabbing at Daga'dez's arm, covered in a plate of darksteel.
"I see. I am the student who you rejected time and again, you said I was not worth the investment of time and money, and then you made fun of me when I joined the Machine Cult, saying I was insane as well as weak." The scholar stopped the stabbing and dropped the knife.
"Isaac? Isaac Preston?" His eyes were wide. Isaac had been five feet tall when he last saw him.
"Yes, that was my name. No longer. Isaac was a weak name, a name that befitted my pathetic meat-body. I am now Daga'dez, General of the Hidden One. You are going to accompany me to Phyrexia. But first, I want you to watch something."
The soldiers had finished loading what was required, and were loping out of the library door. One remained behind. Daga'dez retreated to the door of the library, then issued a mental command. Silently, the warrior drew a long knife and slit its own throat, very nearly slicing its own head off. Oil spurted in all directions, spreading in a thin veneer over a large section of the floor, coating many nearby books.
"Watch, O Scholar. Watch as your life is burned away, for this will be your last sight of this world."
Daga'Dez reached out with his mind and tipped a lamp off of a table, where it fell into the oil and smashed. Flames quickly spread across the shelves, burning a thosand years of accumulated knowledge. The old man moaned.
"I suggest you rest now. Your trip to Phyrexia will not be pleasant."
With that, Daga'dez struck the old man a calculated blow, being carefull not to harm him permenantly. He went limp in the Phyrexian's arm.
Without a further word, Daga'dez left the temple and returned to the waiting portal.
Looking around with a satisfied air, and having rediscovered the use of his voice, Daga'dez spoke to the warriors.
"Our work is done here." Phyrexian felt much better than any human language, its grace and effeciency a relief after the difficult conversation with the scholar, "We return to Phyrexia."
They stepped through the dark portal, and were greeted by the great furnaces of the Fourth Sphere.

The old man was quickly moved to a special cell in the Sixth Sphere, he would last only ten minutes or so on the Fourth. In moments the High Priests were present in the chamber, setting to work. The old man had to be kept unconcious, the shock and pain of this operation would kill him if he were awake, which was a bitter dissapointment to Daga'dez. But watching as the mans flesh was stripped away layer by layer, exposing the fat, muscle and organs one by one, was some consollation.
Gradually, the body was taken apart and, eventually, only the nervous system remained, sustained by an artificial 'body', leaving it only the ability to speak and to hear. And to feel. Every nerve ending was wired into stimulators, which could replicate the greatest pleasure and the most horrible pain. Daga'dez only planned to use one setting.
"It is aware." A High Priest spoke, a rare event. The Hidden One must have been very pleased with this aquisition, for the High Priest to even descend into the common Phrexian tounge to speak with somebody was the highest compliment.
Daga'dez bowed deeply, "I will conduct the extraction and report to the Hidden One."
The Hidden One, observing through the eyes of the Priests, watched and listened, as the screams of a mind torn from its body and left bare before the Lords of Phyrexia echoed throughout the small room in the Sixth Sphere.

OOC: Ohhh, very nice. Very nice. Nice title too. I know the concept predates it, but is that a Galaxy in Flames reference I see before me? :D

OOC: Damn you chrono. You beat me to it.

Does this mean we have another cool evil Rper on NS who's new? Finnaly someone different other than the same old same old.... *Cough*Chronosia*Cough*Cough* ;)

.......wow, tthat was, more than a little creepy. But very interesting, I would like to see where this goes. Especially if there is to be more of the Phrexians roaming these worlds. This could be very interesting.

OOC: VERY GOOD!!! it is so rare for new guys to post like that.

(OOC:
Gratse all :)
I have no idea what Galaxy in Flames is, but the Phyrexians are from Magic: The Gathering. In Warhammer 40k terms they have an apperance like Chaos, a Tyranid approach to things and the philosophy of the Space Marines.

I do my best to be creepy, but Im a little stuck as to how to interact with other nations at this point. It seems that most of the 'evil' nations on this forum are based on the WH40k Chaos, which the Phyrexians wouldnt get along with, and not getting squished in a war with a 28 billion population nation would be nice >_>)

OOC: Galaxy in Flames is a 40k novel, it mentions the "Music of the Spheres". I'm one of the few Chaos nations that are really active, I'd say. A lot more of the evil nations are, bleh, Sith.

(OOC:
They must not mark their RP's as much then, 'cause I dont see many FT-Sith started threads O_o
Anybody want to play host to a small Phyrexian church, perhaps? Street battles or diplomancy, Im up for either right now.)

hmmm.... perhaps a war between different planes or a war among the very spheres?

(OOC:
Amoung planes yes, but considering the power of the Hidden One on Phyrexia, since he has direct access to everybodies mind, civil war or rebellion of any kind is impossible.
And I was hoping for some forign affairs :P)

((OC- Detailed and very imaginative. A very nice FT welcome. =^^= ))

OOC: How on earth are you gonna pull off foreign affairs with these guys ;). Unless "Foreign Affairs" means somthing else in 40k :rolleyes:

OOC: How on earth are you gonna pull off foreign affairs with these guys ;). Unless "Foreign Affairs" means somthing else in 40k :rolleyes:

(OOC:
Well, they generally dont IMMIDIATLY attack people they can convience to join them willingly somehow, unless those people have something they want and wont give it up willingly. Warfare is, after all, a waste of resources :P
Well, since nobody wants to host a lovely Phyrexian Church, I guess I'll just have to do things the old fashioned way.)

IC:
The Fourth Sphere of Phyrexia

Black metal, suspended in the air above the heads of the thosands of Gremlins working frentically to build these newest creations of the Machine Gods, massive ships capable of traveling between Planes, even throught he Void.
They were indeed huge, larger than even the largest Behemoth, some reached nearly a mile in length. Around these swarmed, like moths to a flame, thosands of smaller ships. In turn, each ship was surrounded by hundreds of thosands, perhaps even millions, of Gremlins and larger labourers. Each ship, at its very core, held the living tissues of a Phyrexian who had sacrificed all intellect and free will, serving as a means to relay the commands of the ships crew via an extended nervous system.
The outsides of the ships were totaly artificial in nature though. Composed of the same Darksteel as Daga'dez's armour. They were angular, with spines projecting outward from various points, blue-grey viewports peered from their skin like the dead eyes of some rotting reptile.
Today was a special day though, Karek knew. He was currently observing a line of Gremlins, hauling material from a portal to the First Sphere to the smelters. He watched as these, the older Gremlins who were no longer agile enough for work on the ships, dragged massive loads of ore to the furnaces, which they hurled into the vast smelting pits. They then descended a long and winding ramp to the floor of the Sphere and, one by one, threw themselves into the furnaces.
On Phyrexia, everything found a use.
Even, Karek reflected, me. Nearly two thosand years ago Karek had been a nobody, a low life on the streets of some city. He barely remembered it now, he saw no need to as such vain emotional discource with oneself was viewed as wasteful. But for now, he rummage in the well of his memory. He remembered the priest who came to the city, a city of tall white spires and golden domes, streets paved with jade stone of some kind. The people had not take well to the mans speeches that their gods were false, and had attacked him, and, they thought, killed him.
Not so, it had proved.
The next morning a fine grey dust covered the city, mystifying its occupants. Nobody knew what it was or where it came from, but it dulled the huge domes and many were concerned at the cost of cleaning them.
The next day, the city was in panic. Fires broke out, men struggled with each other in streets slick with blood and gore, many screamed that the end of the world had come. Maybe they believed it, or perhaps it was merely the outpouring of madness from their stricken minds.
Regardless, within three days most of the city was dead. Not so Karek. In those days the Phyrexians were curious about the effects of their plauge, and they would often come and collect the dead. Like loping wolves the grey forms of warriors had appeared out of the mist, heading towards Karek as he lay crippled and bleeding from a dozen stab wounds, the last testimate of a madman.
Curious, they had returned to Phyrexia, bearing him as burden.
For weeks, Kerak was disected, his tissues sampled, his body violated with such casual brutality that he thought he might go mad. The most vivid memory of the time was staring down at his body, with his right arm laid open, tags picking out each muscle, nerve, vein and bone. Just to the left, the skin of his abdomen was pinned back to the table, displaying the twitching mass of his organs. Even as he watched, the Priests removed them and replaced them, bit by bit, he was perfected.
He remembered that day because it was his first as a Phyrexian.
And now, he was to command the vast fleets of the Hidden One, to go forth into the Void and seek new planes to enlighten.
He felt a shudder of something akin to pleasure ripple through his body.
Karek was no longer even remotely human. His stick thin arms belied a strength that could punch a hole in a foot thick wall of stone, his legs could carry him at a speed of thirty miles an hour, and cause him to leap fifty feet in the air. His skin was metal, overlayed with a shimmering cloak. Of course it was not decorative, but made up of tiny nanites which would absorb attacks against his body. His head was now a skull-like case for the remnants of his brain, his eyes two red pinpoints of light set deep in his metal cranium. His mouth was full of steel spikes.

Karek stepped onto the bridge of Apollyon, the new flagship of the Phyrexian fleet. The bridge was spartan, but very servicable. He seated himself in a chair provided, with an excellent view of the all-round viewports of the starship. A crew of both specialized Phyrexians, warrior-marines and Gremlins, numbering exactly 1,287, had already boarded and made the ship ready.
Kerak nodded in approval. This crew had been raised in this ship, none save himself knew anything of the world outside. Kerak was almost startled when a human with no obvious compleation stepped from a doorway. Her skin was slightly pale, but her beuaty would draw all attention from that fact. Long red hair and green eyes stirred distant memories in Keraks head.
Checking himself, he reached out with his mind and...yes. She was Phyrexian, although only the most sensitive of instruments could detect this. She was organic, and yet not. Her insides were composed of nanites, linked together permenantly and almost indistinguishable from the cells of a normal organic. She also bore the mark of one of the Overlords.
Kerak had little choice, he bowed.
"You are the Emissary I was told of?"

She glanced at him, and smiled a smile that, had it been bestowed upon human male, would easily have launched at least six hundred and seventy six ships of at approximatly 120 feet in length. "I am. You are Kerak, the commander of this fleet?"
Even speaking Phyrexian, a language built on effeciency, her voice could have stopped wars.

All this was wasted on Kerak, Phyrexians were grown, not born. "I am. I was told that you would be remaining in your quarters until we met an...organic." Kerak's eyes flickered slightly at the last word.

"I grew..." She paused, "Un-productive." It was the closest thing in Phyrexian to 'bored', "I wished to view the rest of the ship and it cannot harm my mission to be familiar with the places I may be required to conduct negotiations with the organics."

Had his mouth been capable of such an action, Karek would have frowned. Idle curiosity was wasteful, and dangerous. This near-organic pup wandering around the ship would only interfere with the crew. But, she outranked him and if he interefered he might well find himself at the pleasure of the Seventh Sphere Gremlins. "As you wish, Emissary. Do not interfere with the productivity of the ships crew or I will confine you to quarters." Not that he had any such authority, but perhaps she didint know tha-

"You will not. My mission is to learn, observe and study, and that is what I will do." She vanished out the doorway towards the engineering section of the ship.

***

The Apollyon approached two massive pillars of intricatly worked metal, standing like giant parenthesis in the midst of an otherwise flat area of the Fourth Sphere's plains.
A distant hum, felt even through the ships hull, caused Kerak to produce a loud buzz where his metal feet contacted the deck. He had ordered a Gremlin to act as a footstool until they were in the Void and away from this vibration.
As he stared out the viewport with his unblinking red pinpoint eyes, the humming ceased, replaced with a rolling concussion wave of air which rolled over the fleet, causing even their own ship to move back ever so slightly. One of the smaller vessels caroomed off of a furnace, smashing into the floor of the sphere. Kerak felt annoyance, the loss of a ship was a sever inconvienience at this point. He would make sure the captain had a long stay in the Seventh Sphere, but such action would most likely not be required.
Looking back out the viewport, Kerak beheld the Void, through the portal gate, edged in blue, a thosand million worlds awaited Perfection, the salvation of the Machine God.
The ships moved forward, entering the portal and gradually appearing in another place, another plane.
Once the fleet was through, it began a steady transmission, handing out the prime numbers from one to eleven on every avalible beam, to all nearby planets and to every object which even looked like it might be a ship.

OOC: Magnificent writing! Alas, I don't have time to join in now, but I'll be sure to involve myself (possibly with a different nation, I'll have to decide about that...) if/when I am able to write a post that begins to approach being worthy of entering this thread.

Both magic and tech, I see...

OOC: Always the chance you could find an Imperial world and after we've assessed the threat of heresy (Which shouldn't be too much assuming you don't try and spread your religion), then we could enter into...Talks, though if your anything like you claim, you probably won't take well to the forces of Chaos :P

(OOC:
You dont have an Adeptus Mechanicus equivalent do you? I would think they would love the Phyrexians, even if you ARE Chaos. Maybe they could agree that my Machine God and your Machine God are the same thing :P)

OOC I have to say that was a very awesome post there. And speaking of Galaxy in Flames, I am currently reading that book. That and Fire Warrior.

Welcome man. Id like to get in on this action!

BTW someone get Wanderjar. I have to trade him a Monolith and Mewtwo for a Bloodthirster and Daemon Prince :D

(OOC:
You dont have an Adeptus Mechanicus equivalent do you? I would think they would love the Phyrexians, even if you ARE Chaos. Maybe they could agree that my Machine God and your Machine God are the same thing :P)

OOC: Indeed I do! I have a section of Dark Mechanicus in my nation :D

(OOC:
Well then, perhaps one of their ships might just stumble onto the Phyrexian fleet? It might be love at first sight :P)

(OOC:
Bugger if Im going to write another lovely post with extra gore if nobody is going to respond to me >_>)

*Ding*
"What's up DcI?" A man sitting with his chair reclined back into a bed asked.
"Three things, one your burrito is ready, two someone is trying for a very primitive 'Here we are'. They're using a prime sequencer, or at least I assume they are."
"A prime sequencer, that is old." He commented with a chuckle as he got up and headed to get his burrito. "Oh, and what was that third thing?"
"Your fly is open."
Looking down to check, he bumped his head as the ship opened the door to the microwave, or rather its analog. Finding it zipped up, he rubbed his forehead and cursed at DcI.
Grabbing the burrito, he commented, "Sent them the standard."

To: Prime Number Ship
Nice to see you, and what are your intentions?
The message was sent in a number of the more commonly used languages and also the same sequence that was being broadcasted was returned.

Karek glanced at one of the Phyrexians manning the communications console. It shrugged. Most Phyrexian conquests had occured in other dimensions.
"Send the reply in Phyrexian. Standard non-hostile."

The Theao ships received something which sounded like a series of mechanical pops, scrapings and hissess, while a number of the ships in the fleet turned broadsides to the approaching ship.

We are Phyrexia, servants of the Hidden One, the Machine God, the Lord of the Wastes. All who behold Him submit to his will.
We are missionaries, here to spread His glorious Will to another plane.
We wish no violence upon those who accept His Will.

"Oww, if that's thier language, I pity any diplomates that get sent to visit them."
"Agreed, what should we do about it."
"See if you can get some sense out of the message and send a reply asking for more information DcI."

Please provide more information as there is presently a linguistic problem, at least on our end. A wider database to work from will make translations much more likely to be reliable.

ooc: It's a single ship.

OOc: Kinda sucks for you. My army is made of Phyrexians, and there are about a thousand Planeswalkers in my nation. But, lucky you, I have way too much on my hands already.

"Oww, if that's thier language, I pity any diplomates that get sent to visit them."
"Agreed, what should we do about it."
"See if you can get some sense out of the message and send a reply asking for more information DcI."



ooc: It's a single ship.

Had his eyes been socketed, Karek would have rolled them. They were not, and he did not. At least these beings were persistient. That showed some promise.
He instructed the communications officer to re-evaluate the estimate of the intelligence of the beings they were attempting to contact.

We are Phyrexia, servants of the Hidden One, the Machine God, the Lord of the Wastes. All who behold Him submit to his will.
01010111.01100101.00100000.01100001.01110010.01100101.00100000.01010000.01101000.01111001.01110010.0 1100101.01111000.01101001.
01100001.00101100.00100000.01110011.01100101.01110010.01110110.01100001.01101110.01110100.01110011.0 0100000.01101111.01100110.
00100000.01110100.01101000.01100101.00100000.01001000.01101001.01100100.01100100.01100101.01101110.0 0100000.01001111.01101110.
01100101.00101100.00100000.01110100.01101000.01100101.00100000.01001101.01100001.01100011.01101000.0 1101001.01101110.01100101.
00100000.01000111.01101111.01100100.00101100.00100000.01110100.01101000.01100101.00100000.01001100.0 1101111.01110010.01100100.
00100000.01101111.01100110.00100000.01110100.01101000.01100101.00100000.01010111.01100001.01110011.0 1110100.01100101.01110011.
00101110.00100000.01000001.01101100.01101100.00100000.01110111.01101000.01101111.00100000.01100010.0 1100101.01101000.01101111.
01101100.01100100.00100000.01001000.01101001.01101101.00100000.01110011.01110101.01100010.01101101.0 1101001.01110100.00100000.
01110100.01101111.00100000.01101000.01101001.01110011.00100000.01110111.01101001.01101100.01101100.0 0101110.

"Great, they repeated the message and added a bunch of useless code. Any updates on what they're saying?"
"They seem to be talking about a deus ex. Guess they're machine cultists."
"Try using thier language, such that we can, to ask for more language to bank."

We are looking for more of your language, not just some.


ooc: You broke the frame.
Also how would your people deal with a totally inorganic being?

(OOC:
Depends, is it dedicated to the service of the Machine God? :P)

IC:
The Phyrexians on the bridge had just finished a modification to a Phyrexian on the bridge when the transmission came through in broken Phyrexian. Karek silently applauded the beings on the other end for figuring out that much thus far.
One of the bridge crew stood, its lower jaw had been removed and glistening oil dripped from raw flesh around the modified area, where a speaker had been affixed to the crewmans face in order to allow it to speak the soft-sounding gibberish of the other beings.

The next Phyrexian transmission was in plain (whatever people form Theao speak :P), although somewhat broken.

No longer required. Modifications have been made, you are understood. We are Phyrexia, servants of the Hidden One. What is your species designation? The voice had undertones of the mechanical sounding Phyrexian language, evidenced in the occasional static-sounding shriek.

OOC: Now things get interesting. Shall I use the reforged Dominion(more like the Umojan Protectorate than the actual Terran Dominion of legend, but meh) to shatter this infestation, so like the parasitic Zerg, or shall I attempt to subvert them to my own uses. Easily answered.

Grunsandelites: Planeswalkers, like Jedi(or anime ninjas), suffer from the anime ninja rule. Urza could take them all apart with a sneeze. Yawgmoth was arguably more powerful than Urza, since he was a Thran. Yawgmoth could simply eat them.

And I can't help but jab you both in the eye either.

IC:

Battlecruiser Weatherlight, Tarsonis Orbit:

"The Kelanis Mining Coalitition has agreed to the terms you set forth sir. The Morians were reluctant, but ultimately acquiesced. The Umojans, however, are still quite stubborn in their resistance. They refuse to ban any religion, no matter how distasteful its precepts, and with the Protectorate as powerful as it currently is, we cannot hope to beat them into submission." The slim young man speaking into the display seemed slightly nervous, as though he wasn't used to delivering reports directly to the last of the Mensk line. On the other hand, Gerard was a skilled commander, and a good enough man that he had risen through the ranks more swiftly than was the norm. Now he commanded the first ship of a new breed, the awe inspiring Weatherlight, faster than the old Leviathans and Behemoths, her greater acceleration and improved firepower, as well as a functioning shield generator, made her one of the deadliest ships in the fleet. At the moment there were but 3 of these battlecruisers in existance, NORAD III, the flagship of the fleet, the eternal Nike, and Weatherlight herself. Nike was away, holding things down over Aiur, trying to contain the zerg infestation there with little success. NORAD III was permanently stationed over Korhal, as flagship of home fleet. Not that there was much of a home fleet to speak of. 5 Leviathans, and a few heavy cruisers are rarely anyones definition of a fleet, though the mass of Gunships, and thousands of supporting Wraiths and Valkyries that accompanied the massive system defense infrastructrure somewhat made up for that lack. But all of that was secondary. What really mattered was that Weatherlight was the only ship that could readily take its fleet with it and deal with anything. Like the minor difficulties on several frontier worlds. The whispers of discontent, and of salvation promised by some strange machine god. And of rebellion, again, in the outer colonies. And that is exactly what they had to do.

Hours after delivering his report to Emperor Mensk III, Commander Gerards vessel was on its way towards Braxis. Normally a relatively quiet world, and one with little to interest anyone, the ice-planet had become a major colony after the second Zerg-War. Now tendrils of discontent spread amongthe populace, and the Marshals did their best to hold it in check. Mysterious beasts, stranger and more frightening even than the Zerg of years past were seen to walk the darkness, and the Colonial Militia patrolled in plattoon strength, while still taking losses. It had not reached a full scale panic, or even a full out war, but the arrival of any Dominion fleet, since there were only three true fleets at the time, was cause for serious concern. When the fleet was accompanied by an entire Corps of Marines and Armor, it was cause for fear. When the only answers they got upon their arrival were horrible nightmares from their Ghost operatives, it was cause for stark raving terror. And finally, when even the powerful sensors of the fleet couldn't detect any lifesigns, or recognized alloys(for Thran Metal and Darksteel are unknown to the Terran Dominion), it was cause for outright panic. There was only one solution.

Ground the marines, unload the tanks, and let the troops sort everything out on their own. Bases sprang up in the wilderness over night, and bunkers, machine gun nests, slit trenches, and all the myriad hallmarks of a heavily entrenched position soon followed. Massive artillery pieces, similar to the siege cannons of the tanks, were laid in, and defense turrets, missile and machinegun alike,bristled at every entrance. Therewould be no catching the Terran Marines unawares. Or so they liked to believe...

OOC:

Wonderful posts. I will try to join as soon as I can figure out what would be the best way ICly. For now, this is a TAG so I can locate this again.

OOC Completely in agreement with bal, as soon as it becomes ready I will join in. Of course trying to make tannelornians join the cult would be hard, seeing as how well..they are the exact opposite of your folks. Perfection through humanity- Gen modding to extremes heh. Either way it looks good and as soon as it looks like its possible to join the thread, it will be done.

However Icly for me at this point it wouldnt make sense to join in, unless of course you stumbled on one of Tannelorns colonies...

It was a simple scene, one that a human might have called "cosy". A fire crackled in the corner, an actual log fire. Just because you had plasma heating didn't mean you had to install it everywhere. There was a desk, neat and ordered, with a coffee mug filled with stationary and another with the originaly intended material. There was an in tray, an out tray and a next-time-someone-senior-visits tray. The walls were old, oak and stone and thick enough to resist the biting cold outside. There were pictures on the walls. A few member of Gratzhaven Polizei Bezirk 6. waved an old cessationist flag as they repelled the heavily demonised councilist rioters to either side of them, a particularly large example of the Boozisch Oberland Lachse, and the current station chief stood to not-incredibly-rigid attention for his official photo.

You can probably establish from this that Bezirk 6. has not been a terribly exciting place since the Beer Hall Revolution. And the past is a foreign country. Right now, Gratzhaven was such a squeaky-clean city that parking offences were a cardinal sin in polite society and the beer halls. This being the Nebelbergen, those two were essentially the same.

The only sound was the crackling of the fire and the scratching of a pen as the man at the desk does whatever it is statisticians do with their statistics.

Ring. Ring.

"I see. Hang on, I'm bringing up the database... No, not of that description. Not here, anyway. There was a re-union nutjob a few years ago, that's the closest thing. Oh, and the Machine God is a Chronosian diety."


"Crap. Imperials. And here in Kleines Gratzhaven, too."

Wachtmeister Kraumer yanked up his fur-lined greatcoat and adjusted his cap to its most intimidating angle. This was not very intimidating. In Boozia, policemen were not the brutal enforcers of a fascist regime. A fascist regime with elected legislation and a tolerably fair judiciary doesn't require overly much brutal enforcing.

"You! This is a public area! If you want to advertise a religoun, we and the state request you hire a room for meeting!"

The patrol began moving forward in a definate way. Kraumer had a bullhorn. The others kept truncheons under clothing, but they kept their hands on them, all the same. There had been murders involving the pro-union guy a few years ago, stories which the older men took great pleasure in describing to the recruits.


"Just prime numbers, Herr Kommandant. And lots of them. No explanation as to why."

"Numeric communication. Two and two is something most of us can agree on. It's a basic way of saying "we are inteligent life" across the language barrier. Or it's one of the All Powerful Calculators of the Ancients, who, in their ascent to a plane of pure energy, forgot basic maths."

There was a chuckle at the science officer's dry joke. The whole bridge, wardroom, and ship were pretty well fed up of the Ancient Whatevers of the Ancients.

"Standard procedure, then. Warp in, give 'em the "who, why, were" in every language we have available, hope they aren't the violence prone type."

"Executing."

Unter-Leutnant Maria Werner, the duty commo, was shaking slightly, so the captain trotted out the tired but trusty old Jagerschiff bridge joke.

"Don't worry. It takes quite a bit to be more violence prone than us."


In a flash of swirling inreality, it appeared. A jagerschiff, part spy, part diplomat, part explorer, part light cruiser when the worst came to the worst. The Boozians had them roaming all over the galaxy.

"Unidentified ship, this is jagerschif Kommodore Boeglin of Boozia. Please your allegiance and intentions."

This was transmitted in English, German, Basic, High and Low Gothic, and all manner of other languages in an attempt to find something the other ship had in it's databanks.

"Guess they have either met people who speak a basic varient, or they have more powerful computers."
"Nah, what now?"

We are Theao, who is this 'Hidden one'?
What are your intentions and goals?

ooc: Nope, mine are self-willed/meet the basic definition for life.

After some consideration, the Phyrexian ship replied to the Theaoans:
The Hidden One is perfection. He is our master. We spread his perfection. What is your species designation?

The arrival of the other ships triggered a reaction within the Phyrexian fleet, six ships turned broadsides to the Nova Boozian ships as well, forming a sort of huge 'L' in space compared to the line of ships facing the Theao ships.

Transmitting in the same language that they were using with the first set of ships, Karek directed the Phyrexian with the new vocal chords to take over both conversations.

The reply to the Nova Boozian ships was equally to the point:
We are Phyrexia, servants of the Hidden One, the Machine God, what is your species designation?

It was at that point that the Emissary arrive on the bridge, sweating slightly. Shoving the recently modified Phyrexian aside she spoke into the transmitter, talking to both the Theao and Nova Boozian ships.
She also spoke without the Phyrexian 'accent', the occasional hissed word-ending, but overall her voice was a significant improvement over the modified Phyrexians.

[i]My apologies, my comrades are not the most friendly of people. We are Phyrexians, servants of the Machine God. Our intentions are peaceful, we are...missionaries, perhaps you might say. If you wish I would like to invite parties from both of your ships to the [i]Appolyon if you wish to discuss this further. Am I correct in assuming that your species both breath oxygen-nitrogen atmospheres? This has been correct with the majority of life in this plane we have observed thus far.

"Ahhh, we told you you addle-brained knuckleheads." He commented with a bit of a scowl at hearing the question they'd just answered repeated. Thier talk of 'spreading perfection' seemed suspiciously cult-like.
"We've got more company, but not these Phyrexia, and perhaps thier slightly off as I can't place them but I know they've been based."
"Ah and oh, an invitation and apology. They've in part shot themselves in the foot already. Oh well, reply."

We thank you for the apology thought it is, in part, not needed. With all respect, and do to your own admissions, we would prefere to avoid a meeting on a vessel where there are 'not the most friendly of people', especially when they would be the predominant group. A third-party vessel or planetary location might be more practical, for mutual secruity reasons.

ooc: It's Theao, not Theaoan. It doesn't change regardless of traditional english grammatical rules.

OOC: That guy Kraumer thinks is a GE troublemaker is supposed to be one of your preachers.

IC:"We are Humans. Homo sapiens of predominantly Caucasian descent with East Asian and Middle-Eastern genes also common. We breath what you said. And as to a little lack of friendliness, well, I can't say we're the most polite in this galaxy. What exactly is the "Appolyon?" A ship? If you're going to ask us to talk in non-neutral territory then I have to request that our honour guard be armed to warfighting standard. They will not, of course be present in the actual meating room."

Maria finished a brief bout of adjusting sliders and hit "transmit." All eyes turned towards Oberst Fleischer, the onboard diplomat. An Oberst (literally "highest") was the Boozian technical equivelant of a colonel or, in naval terms, a captain. This made him the most senior officer onboard, but of course generals take orders from the enlisted men when in space and the same went for diplomats. Now, Fleischer was in charge.

"I'm prepared to talk face to face with them. Dying is a risk in my job as much as yours and it's one I signed on for. They may not sound friendly, but to be entirely frank, Kommandant, you wouldn't make a brilliant first impression either."

"I understand, Elmar. I'll get a boat ready."

"Good. And whatever you do, don't give Beir the honour guard. I know she makes a good platoon leader, but the women can destroy diplomacy by looking at it hard for a moment and saying something."

"Hey, don't worry, I'm sending Kellermann."

"Kellerman... do they teach lack of tact at marine academy or something?"

"Probably, but if you tell him not to say anything, he wont."

The Emissary seemed somewhat annoyed at this development, but did not let it show in her voice. Karek felt some pleasure at her frustration, but kept it hidden.

Well, since both parties are unwilling to meet on our own ship, is there a neutral area where we may go in order to hold face-to-face meetings? They are so much more effective than com-speak. Perhaps a nearby neutral planet or system?

OOC: *waves* No attempts to sway the brutal and corrupt Terrans, and their deadly war machines to your cause? Not even a nod to Gerard and Weatherlight? I'm hurt....

"Any places meeting that descript that are viable and close?"
"According to the charts, yes. There's a system with the correct atmosphere and all that, and unclaimed. Or unclaimed as of three weeks ago."
"Good enought. Relay the message."

We know of a system that, unless claimed quite recently, is viable, would serve as neutral ground and is fairly close by. We are inclosing the location relative to our own position and that of the galactic core, to facilitate finding it.

"Okay. Neutral territory. Guard weapons to be ceremonial. Face to face. We're all in agreement on this?"

Click.

"Kommandant, I want the monthly sent home right now. Tell them all the usual stuff."

"Yes, sir."

He turned to Kommandant-Leutnant Herschell, his exec. Drafting the monthly report was a Boozian XO or Chief of Staff's responsibility.

"Everything except what's happened today, sir."

He brougth it up on his display.

"It'll be away in a moment."

OOC: What is this thread about btw?

(OOC:
Sorry Mini, I meant to ask you how you wanted me to respond to that post, all the Phyrexian raids thus far have been in other dimensions, they just arrived here and found this one to be more...interesting. Maybe a few kidnappings have taken place, but only on worlds where such events arent terribly unusual. Maybe we should just be friends? ;)

Edoniakistanbabweagua, its about the thermodynamics of ninja-penguins.)

We will begin our approach to the planet you have selected. Contact will be broken until your arrival within the proximity of the planet. Goodbye until then.

Withdrawing from the com, the Emissary shot a glare at Karek, "See what you get when you are polite to people?"

Karek would have glowered, but his face was a fixed mass of metal, "They are meat, why should we be," something made a sound like the grinding of rusty gears in his torso, "polite...to them? Meat is inferior."

The Emissary nodded, "Perhaps. But meat is also the dominant force in this galaxy. They may overwhelm us, so we must talk. The meat-beings we have observed thus far have an astonishingly greedy approach to life. The place called Glosif, remember?"

Karek thought for a short time, "The plane where the traitor destroyed the royal palace and threw Glosif into anarchy? You mean this was not an exception?" A crack had appeared in Kareks formerly impenetrable emotionless state.

"Indeed."

"How do such beings survive? Surely they must destroy themselves shortly after achieving sentience?"

"Apparently not."

Bringing their three ships into orbit around the planet selected, the Phyrexians, the Emissary, Karek, and two Phyrexian warriors boarded a shuttle and began the long, slow descent to the planets surface.
The other Phyrexians displayed discomfort on arrival. Karek was obviously unconfortable, this planet had a high level of atmosphereic water, blue skies and green trees. He was long used to the Inner Spheres of Phyrexia. The others, who had at least visited the First Sphere, this was not a terrible shock, and as they had no exposed metal parts, the water did not affect them so much.
The Emissary wore black, form-fitting plates of black armour, excellently forged and calculated to impress. It definitly made her hair stand out, anyway. There was no sword at her side, and no show of rank on the armour, her bearing said that she was in charge though, despite what the skeletal seven foot tall being behind her might say.
The Phyrexian guards wore, of course, nothing. Vat grown Phyrexians were sexless, and had nothing to cover. Their grey skin, stretched tight over the various modifications, had obtained a sheen of water, giving them a 'just polished' look.
Karek was standing very still, while attempting to manuver his nanite cloak to cover his head without exposing his arms. Behind him was a trail of shredded grass, mulched sticks and an unfourtunate ground-dwelling mammal of some kind. All fallen victim to the nanite-cloak which would attempt to disassemble anything (except Karek) it came into contact with. even the rocks it had passed over were covered in little scratches.

DcI had departed to the given planet so they could met with the Phyrexia. The ship decended down through the atmosphere while the crew got ready. Of the two beings that were the partnership of the scout-ship, one simply had to take her body out of storage, while the other had to suit up. While it was a 'peaceful' talk, caution was important nontheless, things could go south or an abnormal bioproblem could be found.

A tight-fitting black suit garbed the one, light and comfortable looking clothes garbed the other, neither being visibly armed. DcI and Jorgan walked out to meet the Phyrexia, side-by-side.

"So, would you like to wait for the third party, or begin now?" Jorgan asked
"And what were your reasons for requesting a meeting?" DcI added in her light, melodic voice, a contrast to Jorgan's deeper tones.

(OOC: PhyrexiaNS, my people follow English grammatical rules :P)

The Emmisarry gave a slight bow, "We may begin any time you wish. As to the purpose of being here, I felt that a face to face meeting would be far better to produce results than us in the Void facing each other at gunpoint."
Behind her, Karek issued a series of chitterings and screeches, the Emmisary looked at him, then back at the Theao, "My companion wishes to inform you that you are less greasy and...meaty than he expected. Its a compliment. You may speak to him, he understands many languages."

"I take it you don't have a high view of organics?" Jorgan commented, "Then you should really like DcI. So what do you wish to speak about?"
DcI grinned, if they were really machine worshippers, she could blow thier world considering she was a living, in the classical sense, inorganic.

"Organics are merely incompleat, we hold no ill will towards organics in general." The Emissary paused, "As to why we wished to contact you, we primarily wish to obtain contacts within this plane and to gain your permission for our priests to spread the word of the Ineffable." She carefully ignored the thing called 'DcI'.

"Incompleat? Mind explaining that point. And who is the Ineffable and what is the message?" DcI asked

"If your missionaries wish to preach, then it might be wise to ask each nation you wish to preach to. Afterall, there are numerous nations with different goals and views on religious views." Jorgan added.

The Emissary gestured to Karek, "He is Compleat. These two," She pointed to the guards, "Are not. I am compleat, although I do not appear to be." She gestured, "Compleation is more than transforming from meat into metal...it is...a process, the Hidden Ones acceptance. I cannot explain who the Ineffable is, we do not speak his name, and few know his nature."

"Ah, traditional religious stuff." Jorgan replied, a faint amount of disgust in his voice. Most religions that were found in the cosmos tended to hold the principles of conversion by the sword, as well as other less than savory practices.

"I would imagine then that you are a fairly religious nation?" DcI commented

Karek screeched something, "Karek wishes to inform you that few traditional religions that we have encountered thus far give you the option of meeting God while still alive. Without some modification of the body chemistry." She nodded to herself, then added, "Of course, meeting the Ineffable has its risks."

"Well most of those practitionars of religions around here have thier 'gods' being accessible. A perfect case in point is Chronosia in its gods." DcI replied

"So outside of religion, which it is very unlikely we'll agree on, what else would you like to talk about?"

"Launch away."

"No contact during diplomatic meetings unless they have express permission. They're on their own now."

The Kommandant sighed. He wished there was somthing he could do. He had a fresh light cruiser and a strong battalion of the marine-corps finest, and there was absolutely nothing he could do that would influence the prodedings in a beneficial way.

Maybe it was his lucky day. Maybe it was a trap.


Fleischer stepped out of the launch. They had set down a little way from the other two parties, because no matter how passive you want to be it takes a while to get an auto-cannon off your boat's nose. Around his, Kellerman's marines spread out. Each one wore a black greatcoat, shining helmet and boots, and a ceremonial but entirely functional sword.

It was a short hike to the meating point, at the edge of which the marines spread out again, forming a half circle facing outward from the negotiators.

Fleischer himself was done up in a uniform that was basically the same, but for being red, gold laced and braided, and with a navy cap. And he, out of tradition and because it was a fairly universal gesture, unbuckled his sword and layed it carefully on the ground. He turned to the Phyrexian party.

"If we are to engage in negotiations then let's have a defined objective in sight. How's this: non-agression pact, free trading deal, mutual embassies?"

"We were not aware of this. It will be investigated." The Emissary turned to the Nova Boozian, "We can accept these, although embassies may be challenging. The atmosphere of Phyrexia is toxic to most non-Phyrexian organics and has shown corrosive effects when exposed to water-based organics. We advise the construction of a..." She consulted with Karek, "Space station. near the stable portal where you answered our message, thus your own emissaries will be able to travel to and from Phyrexia without having to live there."

"On the idea of free trade, what do you have for trade?" Jorgan asked as he offered a brief nod to the other group.

The Emissary smiled, "What do you want?"

"It depends, what are the unique products found in your industries?" DcI asked as trade was difficult without knowing what someone had at least partially on the table.

"Our industry produces what the Ineffable wishes it to produce. Until now that has been what Phyrexia needs. I am sure he would be willing to...trade for unique items from this plane." The Emissary held her smile while Karek said something along the lines of Hiss squeak cracklecrackle pop SCREEEEECH.
A conversation in Phyrexian took place, followed by the Emissary returning her attention to the groups.
"I apologize. I was clarifying the meaning of the word 'trade' with Karek. There is no equivalent in Phyrexian, although I am sure there will be by the end of the next fifty cycles or so."

"Ah, that might present problems in trade then." DcI commented

"I apologise if this offends, but your culture seems surprisingly dictatorial, with perhaps an element of hive thrown in." Jorgan added, somewhat unsurprised by the lack of trade in thier nation.

The Emissary raised an eyebrow, "Until now Phyrexia has not encountered other space faring civilizations, no other plane produces goods which we find value in. I am sure we could offer you something."

"It is always possible. If you wouldn't mind taking a step back from the concept in trade, could you describe a bit about your society and culture?" Jorgan asked

"What is it you wish to know? We are dedicated to the service of the Ineffable, and strive to do his will. All beings on Phyrexia have a purpose, and serve that purpose until they are recycled or displease the Ineffable, in which case they are cast into the Seventh Sphere for the term of their sentence. More than that I do not know. I was raised in the Sixth Sphere and saw little of the others."

"So, in essance, a hive society with a bitchy queen?" DcI asked

"Spheres, what do you mean by that?" Jorgan added, as while he still wanted to know who, or what, the Ineffable was, they'd already given the equivilant of 'no comment' to the earlier question about it.

(OOC:
Sorry Mini, I meant to ask you how you wanted me to respond to that post, all the Phyrexian raids thus far have been in other dimensions, they just arrived here and found this one to be more...interesting. Maybe a few kidnappings have taken place, but only on worlds where such events arent terribly unusual. Maybe we should just be friends? ;)

Edoniakistanbabweagua, its about the thermodynamics of ninja-penguins.)

We will begin our approach to the planet you have selected. Contact will be broken until your arrival within the proximity of the planet. Goodbye until then.

Withdrawing from the com, the Emissary shot a glare at Karek, "See what you get when you are polite to people?"

Karek would have glowered, but his face was a fixed mass of metal, "They are meat, why should we be," something made a sound like the grinding of rusty gears in his torso, "polite...to them? Meat is inferior."

The Emissary nodded, "Perhaps. But meat is also the dominant force in this galaxy. They may overwhelm us, so we must talk. The meat-beings we have observed thus far have an astonishingly greedy approach to life. The place called Glosif, remember?"

Karek thought for a short time, "The plane where the traitor destroyed the royal palace and threw Glosif into anarchy? You mean this was not an exception?" A crack had appeared in Kareks formerly impenetrable emotionless state.

"Indeed."

"How do such beings survive? Surely they must destroy themselves shortly after achieving sentience?"

"Apparently not."

Bringing their three ships into orbit around the planet selected, the Phyrexians, the Emissary, Karek, and two Phyrexian warriors boarded a shuttle and began the long, slow descent to the planets surface.
The other Phyrexians displayed discomfort on arrival. Karek was obviously unconfortable, this planet had a high level of atmosphereic water, blue skies and green trees. He was long used to the Inner Spheres of Phyrexia. The others, who had at least visited the First Sphere, this was not a terrible shock, and as they had no exposed metal parts, the water did not affect them so much.
The Emissary wore black, form-fitting plates of black armour, excellently forged and calculated to impress. It definitly made her hair stand out, anyway. There was no sword at her side, and no show of rank on the armour, her bearing said that she was in charge though, despite what the skeletal seven foot tall being behind her might say.
The Phyrexian guards wore, of course, nothing. Vat grown Phyrexians were sexless, and had nothing to cover. Their grey skin, stretched tight over the various modifications, had obtained a sheen of water, giving them a 'just polished' look.
Karek was standing very still, while attempting to manuver his nanite cloak to cover his head without exposing his arms. Behind him was a trail of shredded grass, mulched sticks and an unfourtunate ground-dwelling mammal of some kind. All fallen victim to the nanite-cloak which would attempt to disassemble anything (except Karek) it came into contact with. even the rocks it had passed over were covered in little scratches.

OOC: Bah, you're a threat to my shipping in the long run. In the short run you can open up a whole shitload of new markets with the ability to 'walk. The reasonable thing is to assume there is a permanent portal(Koilos style) recently activated, and that a few of the lesser life forms have wandered through anddone stupid shit. Of course, the Terrans assume this is just a minor Zerg infestation, which is why they only sent a Corps to handle it.

Ignoring the DcI, the Emissary answered, "Phyrexia consists of nine spheres, one within another they are like this word, but each is hollow, perhaps fifty miles thick at the most. You have something similar...a 'Dyson Sphere'? Phyrexia is smaller, but the avalible surface area is roughly the same, due to the special properties of the Sixth Sphere."

(OOC:
A permenant portal for minor raids?
Besides, Phyrexians dont have any Planeswalkers except for Yawgmoth, who is only TECHNICALLY a Planeswalker but is trapped in the Ninth Sphere anyway...
The Phyrexians are getting around with temporary portals, not walkers.)

"A space station is satisfactory. We can probably bring something out of the breaking lines and have it ready in a couple of months. Presumably it will also be where Boozian merchant captains offload our goods and take on yours. Your own ships will be welcome at the main commerce platforms but like everyone you'll require passes to get to the surface.

"There are things we can offer but I'm not a market man and there are lots of them. The ship I'm with carries on a commerce database to dump on your computers for that exact reason. But what we'd be interested in... I don't suppose the technology that lets you hop between these "planes" is up for sale? If not, that's understandable, but..."

"The Overlords have allowed subject planes to use limited capacity portals prior to this. They act in the same way as the standard versions, but are limited as to how much weight they can trasmit before their power source is exhausted. The limit is usually 500-600 pounds and, of course, they are trans-planar devices, they cannot be used to move from one place to another within a single plane."

"That explains much." Jorgan commented, "If you don't mind me asking, what are the 'improvements' you mentioned and how are they introduced into your body?"

"The Overlords have allowed subject planes to use limited capacity portals prior to this. They act in the same way as the standard versions, but are limited as to how much weight they can trasmit before their power source is exhausted. The limit is usually 500-600 pounds and, of course, they are trans-planar devices, they cannot be used to move from one place to another within a single plane."

"The ability to explore would be our first concern, but what worries me is "subject planes." Boozia does not do deals with her freedom."

"It depends on how a Phyrexian was created." The Emissary spoke to the Theao, "I was...manufactured, all of the 'modifications' in my body have been present since I was aware. Karek began life as a...newt, which is like a basic human, but evolved to a point where modification is more readily accepted. Cybernetic and semi-organic modifications are made over time depending on the field of work a Phyrexian goes into, for example a warrior would recieve treatment to make its bones stronger, to widen its jaws and strengthen muscles." She turned her attention to the Nova Boozian, "I use the term to refer to planes which Phyrexia has subjigated, as far as I am aware neither the Overlords nore the Ineffable consider this plane a target for aggressive expansion. An invasion and total subjigation of this plane would require more resources than Phyrexia would be able to muster. Most subject planes have one or two worlds in them, this is the first plane we have encountered of this size."

"Ah, there appears to be some similarity in that aspect between our nations." Jorgan commented as he listened to the explaination directed toward the other group.

-Darkship Gurah'ze Kyruyan

Hunter patrols were seen as the lowest role a Neo-Mekantan officer could command, if only because nothing ever happened. No commander of the Goddess' forces would wish to be relegated to the role of herding a fleet of Zircon through the cosmos to see if anything happened. It was a dishonor, especially if that Mekantan were a member of the Goddess Hand elite forces, those mekantans blessed with Minagoroshi's cells to augment thier abilities.

Tashreh math Zaril, Goddess Hand elite and commander of the most recent Hunter Fleet, was not like most Mekantans. She was nowhere near as bloodthirsty, and lacked the "bow to me or I'll kick your teeth in" diplomacy style Mekantans were notorious for.

And she was enjoying the peace and quiet. Aside from a few skirmishes among the Zircon, nothing had happened, and that was exactly why she took the mission. She wanted peace. She wanted tranquility. She wanted some time to sit and think.

She did not want to hear that they had recieved a standard first contact transmission and they were to go see who these people were. She knew that knowing Neo-Mekanta's track record, this was likely to end in world being torched, Zircon ravaging solar systems, and someone getting kicked in the genitals.

Thus, the last thing the young-looking female Mekantan wanted to hear was that they'd recieved a signal. She sat quietly in the command node of the Darkship she commanded, her three long violet braids flopped over the back of her command throne as she sunk down and yawned. The colored bands down her cheeks and on other parts of her body covered by her uniform glowed a moment as she telekinetically locked the door to the chamber, intent on taking a short nap.

"<Of signal to have."

The brief message boomed in the chamber, the ship's AI not taking the hint that its commander wanted to sleep. Tashreh, like most Mekantans, could not be startled like Humans could, but calmly opened an eye to glare at a random wall in the chamber.

"... <To locate.>" She hissed, hoping to buy some time for a quick nap.

"<To locate confirm.>"

She growled. "... <To confirm, of times one hundred.>"

A brief pause. "<To confirm confirm.>"

"... <To go away.>"

"Tza'to. <Of signal, to go to.>"

"<Of that, to not mean!!>"

It was too late. The Darkship, and the two hundred Zircon Battleships, ripped out of normal space in a dazzling flash of radiation, repeating the process a short time later when the fleet dejumped near the Phyrexian Armada, Tashreh having taken that time not to nap, but to throttle the manifestation of her ship's AI, the communications specialist who reported the signal, and one of the navigators.


-Signal

ATTENTION.

WE ARE THE GALACTIC HEGEMONY OF NEO-MEKANTA. WE GREET YOU IN THE NAME OF THE GODDESS ALL-CONSUMING. MAKE NO HOSTILE MOVE, OR YOUR DEATH SHALL BE ASSURED.

The Armada was significantly smaller, having dispersed into numerous systems via portals (by going back to Phyrexia, then to another place), those ships remaining to guard the permenant portal to Phyrexia sent back a message recorded by the Emissary.

We regret that none of the crew of these ships are capable of vocalizing your language. The only one capable of vocalizing this language has left to a neutral planet in order to conduct negotiations in a third party zone. Coordinates as follows:
<coordinates>
All non-hostiles welcome to attend, thank you.

Tashreh smiled, hopping up from the command throne. "<To be a regret, of having to go of Ihkasutare!>"

"<To jump of new location.>"

"<... To hate... to hate greatly...>"

With not another transmission to the Phyrexian fleet, the Hunter Fleet jumped out again, one or two Zircon vessels tempted to stay behind and pick a fight before realizing the Goddess would be pissed.


-In Orbit

"<Of entities, of at surface, to be.>"

"Tza'to, Tza'to, Nlya'to'nlya..." Tashreh muttered, rising from her throne. "<To transmit of greeting. To go.>"

"Tza'to. <Of Zircon to be Hivemaster, to go. Of Kaethxal to be.>"

"Wonderfull..." The commander muttered in Terraspeak, slightly slurred by her accent. "<To tell of 'to obstruct not'>"

The computer gave no response, instead simply engulfing its commander in a bright crimson light, and in an instant, she was gone.


Two lights flared up on the planet, one a deep blood red and the other a light blue. When the lights faded, a young woman who looked human save her violet hair and the same colored streaks from her eyes to her chin wearing a heavy uniform and cloak, and a massive inhuman (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v384/MachinaKyrios/Third-Generation%20Renders/Zircon%20Evolution/Worker1.jpg) monster (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v384/MachinaKyrios/Third-Generation%20Renders/Zircon%20Evolution/Worker6.jpg) stood on the ground, the monster letting out a deep hiss before turning the azure "eye" in it's "head" away from Tashreh.

"Do not worry. Starting fights is not what I do..." The Zircon said, vibrating the air to form Terraspeak words rather than his normal growling and hissing.

"<To know.>" Tashreh responded in Mekantan, looking at the rock-like creature. "All the same, do try not to repeat that incident on Ri-an I heard about. Threatening to wipe out species isn't very diplomatic..."

"Hmph. They were warned we dislike high pitched noises. At least I was able to regain control of my instincts in time."

The two began making thier way to where the other life forms were, silent the entire trip.

-OOC-
The Zircon are a rock-like species. They see out of the surface of thier skin, and have more potent sensors in thier eye. The eye is also the focal point for thier main weapon, the Zircon Beam.

Karek, turning his attention towards the newcomers, growled a Phyrexian sentence to the Emissary, who looked in the direction he indicated, "Ah," She said, "We have yet more arrivals to our little confrence. Karek has indicated that they are not hostile to any greater degree than anybody else at present." The Emissary performed an exaggerated bow in the direction of the newcomers, designed to be visible from a distance.

Jorgan offered a two fingered, palm out salute to the new arrivals.

DcI turned to the diplomate and asked a variation on Jorgan's earlier question. "So are there any 'stock' improvements or abilities found amongst your people?"

Kaethxal and Tashreh returned the bow, though not as deep given they were still walking.

When they reached the group, Xaethxal kept his distance, his spines clicking against his stone-like flesh, and let Tashreh handle formalities.

"Gle- Greetings... We hail from the Galactic Hegemony of Neo-Mekanta. We seek peaceful contact..." She quietly added, "... for once..."

"No. All enhancements are, ah, 'custom made' for each individual. Some serve similar purposes, but we prefer to avoid standerdisation in such matters." Turning to the Mekantan the Emissary returned the greeting, "And to you. We are of Phyrexia, servants of the Ineffable. Tell me, are your people capable of trans-planar travel? Karek," She gestured to the still-unmoving Karek, "Informs me that your language is similar to another he has heard."

"No standardization. That would could present a logistical difficulty." DcI commented

Since we've touched upon the basic points, do you have any questions for us?" Jorgan asked

Tashreh nodded. "We are, though we have not left Truespace save a small plane we use for various purposes. It is not surprising you have heard our language before. The Terrans also thought it sounded familiar."

She paused, glancing at the greatly altered being before looking back at the emissary.

"From your question I assume you are not of this space?"

Ignoring the DcI, the Emissary answered, "Phyrexia consists of nine spheres, one within another they are like this word, but each is hollow, perhaps fifty miles thick at the most. You have something similar...a 'Dyson Sphere'? Phyrexia is smaller, but the avalible surface area is roughly the same, due to the special properties of the Sixth Sphere."

(OOC:
A permenant portal for minor raids?
Besides, Phyrexians dont have any Planeswalkers except for Yawgmoth, who is only TECHNICALLY a Planeswalker but is trapped in the Ninth Sphere anyway...
The Phyrexians are getting around with temporary portals, not walkers.)


OOC: It could be intermittently active, or exceedingly small, or just way the hell out of the way. No one said permanent portals always worked, or that they always worked correctly.. The Spheres are, after all, massive beyond comprehension. The Phyrexians had at least one planeswalker, for like...20-30 minutes, before Urza, yaknow, killed Yawgmoth... And. the principals behind the portasls and the ability to walk are the same. Much more similar than the ability of Weatherlight, which requires a stopover in a third dimension before they arrive at their fuinal destination. I'm just looking for a reason for my terrans to meet y'all. And I have a tendency to brutally murder Theao on sight, so... The whole "random space ship" thing is out.

OOC: All occurences back in Boozia may not be chronologically matched with events at the meeting in the same post, although these are, just about.

Fleischer looked the newcomer up and down. It definately wasn't anything he recognised. Kellerman was clearly itching to put a pullet through the... thing. He had been commisioned during the Tyranid wars, in running battles along the corridors of the greatest battleships, and anything with too many legs made his finger trigger curl up compulsively. But he got on top of it, and saluted, slowly.


"Fresh report. It's the Boeglin. Come in way before schedule."

"That means they've got something we need to know. Bring it up, I don't want buerocrats and computers deciding what I need to see."

"Ma'am."

There was a moment of silence in the HQ as Vize-Admiral Vera Hroeffscher's eyes scanned the main screen which, until a moment ago, had shown a map of the known galaxy with the jagerschiff and their routes marked in green, regular fleet in blue and confirmed or supposed GE activity in red.

Vera made a point of not showing her "eyes", unless you were either a close friend or very short and invading her personal space, since she kept them concealed by tilting her admiral's cap further forward than was strictly regulation, and indeed by having a privately made cap with an enlarged peak anyway. She had disliked looking her subordiantes eye-to-eye since waking up in the sick bay of the Oberst Herschell and discovering there were a pair of cameras attached to her nerve endings.

"First contacts. Two, in fact. Put everything available in civil service databases and send updates to anyone enquiring about any keywords in the last month."


"Attention, Unter-Prüfer Kriechbaum. At 03.17, Boozian Nebelberger time (06.17 Boozian Standard Time) you queried "Machine God". New information is available on this subject. A link is provided below."

Kriechbaum clicked, picking up the comm with his other hand.

"Kraumer. New data on "Machine God". It's also the seemingly sole diety of the other-dimensional "Phyrexians". This is new, so I'm booting it up to inspectorate reports. Don't be surprised if the Krimpo turn up."


"Well, well. Isn't coincidence fun."

Vera looked up from the Polizei report. As commander of jagerschiff activity, she had been among the inner circle to recieve the first message from Ober-Prüfer Meyer.

"Send this to Boeglin. Have them enquire. It could still be Chrono agitators, but that's not really their style. And if people can get into my country without an inspection, I want to know. And I want those who're here already locked up securely."

"No." The Emissary nodded, "We come from Phyrexia, a plane seperate from this one. And neither do we have any questions for you," The Emissary looked at the Theao, "Your basic biology is similar to many species we have encountered before. No significant alterations or changes have been detected, therefore, no questions."

"Interesting, thier scanning tech must be next to useless, at least in the nature of bio-scanning." Jorgan thought with a mental chuckle as while while quite similar to human, they was no shared genesis with Earth. "I must say, your scanners appear to be defective then. But since you have no questions, we will be off."

"I assure you, Karek is in no way defective. You underestimate the range of beings we have encountered. Phyrexia has been traveling to different planes for the better part of five thosand years at this point. Goodbye."

Five millenia, pah. Jorgan thought as the two departed, back to the vessel before returning to space.

Fleischer's comm made the kind of click that, had it had a bit more personality, would have been a machine clearing its throat.

"Someone wants to tell me something. To avoid any suspicion I'm going to play it so you can hear.

Hopefully there weren't going to be any faux-pas. Hopefully, he corrected himself, this message being from the bridge crew of the Kommodore Boeglin, there weren't going to be many big faux pas.

"To the diplomatic officer of Boeglin, who is most likely still Oberst Fleischer. We've been having some strange looking types ranting about a "machine-god" in the Nebelbergen. Ask your Phyrexians if they know anything about it."

"We have previously sent out emissaries, but they should not have caused trouble, although I have heard that several have failed to report in on schedual. You may deal with any rouges as you see fit, or, if you do not wish to expend the resources to track them down we will dispatch Negators to deal with the threat." The Emissary looked at Karek, who growled something, "Karek notes that two of our priests who were in this sector have not reported in. We are currently tracking their portal usage in order to give a location."

OOC: It's illegal to preach a religioun on public property in Boozia. The guy Kraumer's after isn't neccessarily a rogue.

IC: "We appreciate the gesture, but I'm afraid Boozia takes a hard line on inregistered immigration. Those emmisaries will be put into our jails until your agents arrive to deal with them."


"I repeat, I and the Boozian state request you do not preach a religioun on public property! If you resist arrest, we will not shrink from the use of force.

Truncheons remained under coats, but everyone could see they were now.