NationStates Jolt Archive

The citadel was cavernous. Great ceilings of marble and painted glass suspended high above the floors by marble pillars and archs that spanned great lengths. Mosaics of great color depicting ancient battles and significant moments in time were carved in the columns, or were the pictures of the glass that allowed the bright sun to shed its rays in magnificent hues within the throne room. Hundreds of people filled the chamber, lining both sides of the room as devided by the red carpet that roled from the massive doorway to the high backed chair of gold, with its inlaid jewels and precious stones. They looked on in awe and reverence at the two men standing upon the raised platform along with the imperial throne.

"Mathius Solarus," the deep and religious voice of the Chaplain rang through the room with ominous volume, placing emphasis on every word that fell from his mouth. "By decree of the Adeptus Astartes, the Ordus Mechanicus and the people of New Terra, we hereby recognise your divinity and rightful claim to the throne of your father. In so doing, you have the full support of all the faithful in purging the heretics that worship your brother, who has been decided mortal and not worthy of the crown."

He stretched out his hands, his power armor shined to a brightness only matched by that of Mathius himself, who knelt in the golden armor of the Emperor. Placing a circlet of golden laurel leaves upon the short chestnut hair, he bid the man rise, and let out one last declaration to close the ceremony. "Now then, God-Emperor of Novus Vir, go forth and lead your soldiers to victory against the heretics that move against us in this most holy of places!"

Solarius rose to a mighty hight, a perfect picture of divinity in his powerful frame. Without a moments pause or consideration, he unsheathed the mighty blade, Heaven's Fury, and charged down the corridor of subjects who bowed in respect. Throwing open the heavy doors, he joined a company of marines bearing the golden eagle on their blood red armor, the symbol of the Emperor's Avatar chapter. They followed their captain down the hallways of the holy palace, amking their way to the gigantic steel doors that led to the forum.

Shells pounded the stone walls of the Imperial complex, sending stones flying and scattering the marines that held their positions upon the ramparts. The sounds of lasgun and bolter all too evident in all areas, contrasting greatly with the total silence that had filled the palace. Brother-Librarian Aelius could be seen leading seven or eight Space Marines to the now demolished front gates, pausing momentarily to concentrate long enough to send a blast of psykic energy at the guardsmen that rushed into the breach, Leman Russ tanks following close behind, blasting apart the squads of marines that stood in the open.

"You fight now in the face of your God-Emperor! Push back these heretics! Purge the disloyal! Space Marines! Attack!" Mathius bellowed at the top of his lungs as he charged into the fray, cleaving a guardsman in half with a single powerful blow, unleashing his blades full fury against those that would oppose his rule. Chainswords reved as the mighty marines of the chapter followed their sovereign with unflinching loyalty against their weaker brethren and their armored brigades. From behind the palace came a Land Raider flanked by eight Land Speeders, a Predator close behind. These poured into the open forum and unleashed their deadly salvos into the mass of guardsmen pouring into the breached gate.

It was an epic display of raw strength as the Space Marines of the Emperor cut a swath through the guardsmen. The sounds of death and pain could be clearly heard, and the roars of the Space Marines as they pushed on.

"For the Emperor!" was their watchword of the day, and they proved why they were His chosen.

"My Lord," Brother-Captain Damien Calus bowed before his God, humble and loyal as a dog. He did not look at his Emperor, but stared hard at the floor awaiting acknowledgement. Mathius took a few moments, examining the head he had just severed from the body of his traitorous brother. Satisfied with the bloody mess, he discarded the head into the piles of blood soaked dead that lie everywhere in the command tent of the rebels.

He turned, and looked upon his soldier with warmth and kindness, a proud father in all respects. "Rise, mighty Damien. You have fought well, and commanded a valiant defence of the citadel. You've earned the honor of speaking with me."

The soldier rose, his battle armor clanking as he did so, the parchments and scrolls attached to his suit fluttering in the cool wind that moved the God-Emperor's crimson cape as well. "You honor me greatly, my Lord. I am most gracious of your favor." He took a few seconds to feel proud of himself, and then got to the point. "We've just received word from the Holy Fleet. It is currently en route back to Novus Terra, having completed its scan of the sector. The warp storm that's been disrupting transmissions from our world to others is finally dissipating. We may now contact others and let them know of your ascention to the throne of Man."

"Then send out a call to the far corners of the stars. Let all be advised that New Mankind is unified once again, and is powerful. Let them come to our holy planet and gaze upon the magnificence of our creations, and make their own proper peace with the God-Emperor."

The necrontyr cruiser was a long simultaneously spindly and solid shape, a heavy crescent surmounted by a stepped pyramid in gleaming gold, with two long yet rugged struts trailing from it, and a platform with angled wings upon it at the end of them, along with auxiliary engines. It appeared in the system without fanfare, heading toward the main planet. It was mighty and powerful, capable of unmaking the whole system if it chose.

It did not, of course. It was unlikely that, aside from its incredible advancement, the locals would recognise anything about the alien ship. There were under three hundred and fifty necron warships active in the galaxy, though powerful, they were immensely rare.

Instead, it kept far beyond the range even of a nova cannon, and sent a transmission.

From the Imperial Necrontyr Vessel Arnstoan Rhien to Mathius Solarius, God Emperor of the Human Imperium of Novus Vir, greetings.

We are pleased to congratulate you on your recent triumph over dissident elements, and welcome you back to the galaxy. We would enjoy the opportunity to send representatives on behalf of ourselves, and our allies of the Adeptus Mechanicus, Astartes and the Holy Sisterhood, in order to discuss matters such as religious orthodoxy, technological uniformity standards, and recruitment.

With thanks,
Erisavenus.

OOC: Nope. I’m not out to kill you, despite being necron-based (your writing, esp. for an intro, is more than good enough to encourage!). Nor am I out to dethrone your Emperor (unlike pretty much every other 40K nation, I expect). The only thing I’m really out for is to use you as a ground for recruiting various quasi-Imperial groups I run.

(OOC: It's my second try at 40K stuff, but this time with the beloved IoM. Granted I base most of what I know on the game Dawn of War, I try. Thinking of Chronosia's writting gave me some ideas on what to put too.;))

IC:

Mathius sat upon his throne of gold and jewels, the light shining through the colorful glass reflecting even further upon the pristine surface of the chair. Before him was Aelius, the valiant Librarian who had led the counter-attack on the palace gateway.

"Yes, my Lord. They have arrived in system with respectable speed, considering the short time your message has been broadcasting. However we do not have any information regarding the type of vessel it is. It is possible that Old Men have constructed different vessels than the coveted battle barge....however it could also be xeno filth. The dissipating warp storms still cloud my mind as to what goes on off our planet."

The Emperor stared Aelius straight in the eyes, but there was kindness on his face, not dissappointment. "Bid them welcome to the space port. Send a company of guardsmen to greet them, and ensure that these visitors are treated with the respect they deserve."

"But..." the Librarian started, shaking his head slowly in confusion as he looked at his Lords shining boots, "Are they of Old Men or xeno, my Lord?"

"You shall be enlightened in time, dear Aelius, and when the truth presents itself the soldiers of the Imperium shall know what to do."

His word was final, and there was no more question in the Librarians actions or voice, as he trusted the knowledge and will of the God-Emperor.

The necrontyr ship disgorged a single landing craft roughly twice the size of an aquila lander, more graceful, in a gleaming red and black colour scheme with an enormous eagle rampant painted on the underside. It resembled eldar craft, though it was of a somewhat smaller size, and had different flight characteristics and energy emissions.

When it came to rest on the landing pad, the rear door slid downwards with a soft hiss of depressurising air, and the passengers stepped out. First out were a quartet of uniformed men, all of whom looked unnaturally similar, looking like either clones, or at least, brothers. They carried long armaments that flickered with some internal green fire, that seemed made of simultaneously flowing organic shapes, and squared off functional sections. As well as these, the warriors carried nothing save a light green uniform that folded over their chest s to the right, bound with golden pins, and decorated on either side of the collar and on the chest with trios of lozenge shaped emeralds, arranged in an upward pointing arrow position.

The unusual thing about them was that they were blue, distinctly humanoid, but apparently some kind of ‘abhuman’ or alien, with what one would guess was blue blood in them. There had been some debate as to whether these living-metal skinned necron soldiers, as was now the custom, should switch to human forms, but it was decided to retain the default, with gracefully pointed ears and silvery-white hair.

Despite this, and to forestall any hostile reaction, the next group to emerge from the transport were certainly human. Physically superior specimens, in fact. They were all tall, and moved with dancers’ grace and elegance. In the lead of the five women, were two armoured ones, one in gleaming steel armour with white cloth beneath it, and black armour with red silken cloth. They wore eagle symbols, and crimson stars, and other slightly strange iconography. With them were a trio of representatives from non-military orders, specifcally, Sister Clemence of the Order of Our Lady’s Succor, whose role could be told by the small amount of diagnostic medical equiment hanging from her silken, filmy red robes, that clung to her delicate frame a provocatively, Sister Sagacity of the Morning Star, darker haired and eyed, whose pinker robes gave no clue as to her vocation, but who wore a tight necklace of black beads and other jewellery that, had one taken them apart, one would realise contained recording equipment and other devices for record keeping, and Sister Superior Percipience of the Order of The Holy Word, who carried with her an elaborately bound book, as well as several other, smaller volumes, which the blonde woman somehow managed to make look inconspicuous on her tightly corsetted white clad person.

The next group, well, they might qualify as human, but the pair were much further from the norm. One was a towering giant in bronze-brass ‘tactical dreadnought armour’ with his own personal heraldry on his left knee, and an Imprial Aquila on his right, as well as a grasping silver talon raised from his right shoulder pad. His bulldog-shaped helmet was on, for now, and his eyes glowed with green light. While the two battle sisters’ weapons operated on the same principle as his double-barreled version, they were far smaller, and hung from their shoulders, held, but not carried at the ready; Sergeant Ascorus did not give even that consideration. His companion, a tall caunt figure in concealing, dull-red robes under which a which silvery glowing devices could be seen, was less human still, the Tech-priest took up his station with mechanical precision, and snapped the butt of his long, cog-headed halbert against the floor of the landing pad.

The last member of the group was more human than the previous two, though tall, and long haired, he dressed like the first group of ‘guards’ save that his clothes were surmounted by a long single shouldered cloak, his insignia consisted of rubies and gold lozenges in a different formation, and he wore a sword, a jewelled dagger and a holstered pistol. He was blue eyed and dark haired, long hair covering pointed ears that may have made the locals think of a species they were familiar with, though he was not a member of that species, he resembled them in some ways, in the exceptional fluid grace of his movements, for example. Despite that, he looked more human than any ‘eldar’ ever did, his eyes much less aloof, nor did he reek of sorcery the way they customarily did, or wear a waystone. Stepping forward, accompanied by a hovering replica of his ship a few centimeters long, that bobbed up and down in the manner of a servo skull, he bowed slightly as Sister Percipience stepped in demurely behind him, and introduced himself as Anárion captain of the Erisavenus, then, he waited to see what the reaction would be.

"Uh...Sir?" the Guardsmen were confused, and looked uneasily at each other, trying to take comfort in the face of their brothers in arms but finding only the same confusion. "Wh...what should we do, Sir?"

The Commisar looked over his shoulder with a scowl, causing the distraut soldiers to fall into stiff attention. The large red cap swirled in the air as he looked back at the landing party, eyeing the blue-skinned beings with hatred and suspicion, showing reverence to the Sisters of Battle in their gleaming battle armor, and displaying a sort of haughty humility towards he who introduced himself.

"You travel with the Adepta Sororitas, but also keep a company of xenos at your side, and resemble them in at least a few ways as well. Explain yourself!" he barked.

Anárion smiled, “You’re quick on the uptake, commissar, as is fitting,” he said, idly examining the tall pointy hat the commissar wore, “In answer to your question, we bring ‘xenos’ though they’re not quite what they seem, they’re closer to your servitors than any alien you’re familiar with, because we decided to be immediately honest with you about the matter; it would have been trivial to only show you what we believed you would wish to see, but we decided instead to speak the full truth immediately. We are a party from several different elements interested in making contact with your people, as you can see.” He did not say anything about the unorthodox elements already detected in this planet, which after all, were hardly relevant to what they wanted, and was a matter for later study, “So, do you choose to shoot me, or allow me to pass?” he asked, not mentioning the displacer field he currently wore in case of just such an eventuality.

"I will not allow xeno filth before the God-Emperor of New Mankind! Even if they are closer to servitors than alien scum! By the Emperor I command that they are removed from our holy planet!"

The commisar was red with anger, his face matching his uniform perfectly. But he calmed down after his cursing of the xenos, and once again showed reverance to the Sisters of Battle and the Techpriest that stood out of the way. "As for yourselves, I will personally escort you to the palace."

He spun on his heels and looked at the awaiting guardsmen with anger in his eyes. "Bring that chimera over here immeadiatly!"

One of the heavily armored transport moved away from the convoy of leman russ tanks that sat in the background of the conference, its treads making an awfully loud noise as it lumbered over. The opening fell to the ground as the machine came to a rest awaited the foreign party to embark.

"Imperuim of Man?"
"Yes Admiral. Shall we move in?"
"Do so at once."
The 4th Assualt Fleet, consisting of 4 Destroyers, 2 Battleships, 4 Cruisers, 2 Carriers, and 2 Medical ships hovered at the edge of the system. A transmission was sent to the planet:
Greetings, we are the Xiscapians. We understand that you serve the vile forces of the Imperium of Man, xeno hating filth that they are. We ask you this: Surrender, or Death?

Anárion resisted the urge to smile at the Commissar; he could already think of dozens of potential ways to send the man over the edge, and while he had no doubt it would be a laugh, it might not be terribly wise to start pushing buttons before he knew what they were connected up to. He raided his hand, “Return to the ship,” he said, and with a snapping-pop of air rushing into the vacuum created by teleportation.

“More ships are entering the system” the tiny drone whispered to Anárion, hovering an inch from his ear, “I may be forced to leave orbit. If so I will send a scout force into the Vilyulairë before I do.”

Sister Superior Percipience smiled charmingly and nodded at the Commissar, “Certainly, it would be a superlative honour,” she said. The tech priest stepped forward, examining the Chimera carefully as it rumbled over, “Largely orthodox production, though various systems could be improved…” He said it as if musing on reality…


Meanwhile, in orbit, the Necrontyr ship brought itself around to face the newcomers.

“Surrender or die? Terribly rude, isn’t that? While this colony may have its flaws, it’s not exactly appropriate to blow it up if it has a little backbone. I suggest that you ‘give peace a chance.’”

“Surrender or die? Terribly rude, isn’t that? While this colony may have its flaws, it’s not exactly appropriate to blow it up if it has a little backbone. I suggest that you ‘give peace a chance.’”
A transmission was sent back:
Peace a chance? That's funny. These happen to be servents of the IoM, or the Imperuim of Man, as we are sure you are aware of. Xeno-hating, warloving, death worshiping humans. We won't bombard the planet in event of a non-surrender, not while non-IoM are on it. Otherwise the world would only be so much glass. They would do the same in our position, only they wouldn't give us a chance to surrender. We must destory or convert them while they are still young.

A nearby techpriest suddenly looked annoyed as he received the message via his implant. It was troubling, but before he could even turn around to report the code to his master, the Emperor spoke to him.

"I am aware of these xenos who make demands of us. We shall not be cowed by those that sympathise with the unclean, and shall purge them from our holy territory."

Mathius reached out with his mind, stretching it a great ways to the Grand Admiral of the Holy Fleet, still a few hours out of Nova Terra. He commanded the Fleet to return with all haste, and to do away these these aggressors.

But that was not all, he also spoke to the friendly newcomers, actual men, to boot, even if they travelled with xeno filth. He had a fatherly tone, filled with warmth and friendship. "Come," he said, "Come to my throne and witness the power of God. Come and parley with me. Do not fear my divine powers."

OOC: Remember, you are young nation, you cannot have all that many ships in your fleet.
IC: The Admiral stood at a viewport, watching the space beyond. The other battleship, 4 Destroyers, 4 Cruisers and 2 Carriers move though space around his Battleship. The two Medical ships hung back, and would continue to, out of range of any orbital defenses. The Admiral sighed. Despite his transmissions, the Admiral was not happy about his potential assualt on the nearby planet. On the chessboard and the VR it was all very good and well, but out here it was different. These were real men and women he was risking. Indeed, he had pledged to seek out and destroy those forces of Chaos and the IoM where ever they may go, but...
He shook his head. The kitsune could not let himself break down. His troops, his Emperor, and his nation were depending on him. The Admiral had light brown hair, a small mustache, and was relatively short, about 5,4. Merely glanced at, he seemed human. However, he had features which quickly dispelled any calling him human. Rust-orange colored ears, yellow, slitted eyes, a bushy red fox tail with white at the tip, and fox ears poking like small mountains out the top of his head. Xiscapians are much faster, more agile, and more graceful than any human. Seeing in the dark was an added benifit. He sighed once again. "Keep the fleet out of range, but on stand-by." he said to his Bridge Officers.

OOC: Lol, Xiscapia, you're wrong on three counts. Firstly, Novus Vir is OBVIOUSLY an RP puppet, and thus he should be entitled to be as big as he wants for the sake of RP. Second, you're not that big yourself, so please don't throw weight around. Third, the author of Novus Vir is a better RPer than you, from what I've seen of him. No offense, but don't cross spears with your betters.

IC:

Blasphemous primitives. A mere mortal who claims godhood? Excellency..It is an affront to the Gods, and you their words made flesh.[/ii]

Imperator Hadriel replayed the haughty little message again. Man..Little more than glorified chimpanzees with guns. Evolutionary inferiors, technological imperfection..

[i]M'lord? We have triangulated the point of origin, jump coordinates are forthcoming. At your word I will personally burn these false prophets-

"You will do no such thing Daedelis." murmured the creature which sat upon that macabre throne.

At that, the image before him shut up.

"Pletorus will be the one who makes first contact. He is the only one I trust to act rationally. Your fervor for war is admirable, Exarch, but not always the best tactic." The Emperor of all of Trailica turned in his seat to face the heavily armored Grande Triarch Pletorus, fist, mouth, and eyes of the Emperor. "Take you with a small contingent, my son, and deal with these..insects..as you deem fit. Furthermore, if any of the local rabble think it their place to plunder these newly revealed Men, run them off. If there is to be revenge, let it be Zeus's."

Wordlessly, Pletorus nodded, pivoted, and headed for the door at the end of the long hall.

==========================================================

Marathon Shipyards, Perceus Sector 2nd quadrant, Milky Way

The newly refit Ithyopolis Hivegroup, 3rd Navy, 5th Flight orbited the Traileric rehaul station of Marathon, patiently awaiting Pletorus, (who had just boarded the lead vessel Eberon) to take the wheel.

He was a tall man, taller in battle armor, and quite imposing. He was the only Triarch who had risen all the way from a lowly Hoplite to right hand of the Emperor. His assistance in the Traileric Civil War that put Hadriel in power had done much to advance his position..Pletorus had made his way to the command hub, and was reviewing his ship roster.

"Under-colonel, why is frigate N-3-515 not with the formation?" He wasn't loud, but his voice carried authority and demanded respect.

"The repairs aboard that vessel were more extensive than the specialists at Marathon could deal with. She is now being towed to Primus Trailica for an acceleration ladder replacement.", came the reply.

"I see. The gap in the line has been filled then?" Pletorus looked from the datapad to the logistics officer.

"Aye sir, we brought in a sloop, as that was what was available."

"Very well, prepare for a farjump. Target threshold is was the hell out there. See that it is done." After this Pletorus simply made his way from the logistics node to his own chamber, not even listening for acquiescence. Within minutes, the Hivegroup had made ready a jump formation, space compression shields were cycled up, the gates were opened, and the Eberon and her auxiliaries hurled themselves into the darkness of the night.

(OOC: I demand that you tell me how you know this is a puppet! I double demand! In the name of the Emperor, I demand an explanation!!!!!!! Waaaaaaagh!!!!! Anyways, I be Taledonia in other parts.)

IC:

Lord High Admiral Akosta watched realspace re-appear as his Emperor class Battleship emerged from the warp. Around it came another battleship, this time a Retribution class; two Avenger grand cruisers followed after that and after them came three Lunar class cruisers, two Gothic class cruisers, and a single Dictator carrier; finally did a Cobra and two Firestorm class escort vessels appear from the sinful portal where daemons dwelt.

"I have heard your call, my Lord, and shall heed your word."

He wispered prayers to himself, answering and praising the God-Emperor, filling himself with confidence and courage as he felt the will of his lord course through him. "Foul xenos!" he shouted as he regarded the alien craft just outside striking range of Holy Nova Terra. They had the advantage, and he knew it, for they had appeared without warning, and behind the enemy, to boot. All he had to do now was give the order.

With all the ferver and authority he could summon, which was enough to make even a daemon prince turn around and reconsider defying the will of the true Emperor of Mankind, he bellowed out his commands to his great warfleet on open channels, so that the enemy would hear the broadcast and warcry as clear as the soldiers of the Imperium themselves.

"In the name of the Emperor, and by his holy authority, bring fire and death to these foul creatures of the starless space. Send to them the judgement and retribution of our Lord!"

The first shots fired would no doubt be the greatest, as the fleet unleashed the nova cannons under its control, the great blasts propelling their firing ships back quite a distance, the vessels' engines compensating but still not enough to keep the ship in its original position. Immeadiatly following these projectiles of immense power were blasts from every other weapon the starships had. Lances lashed out, the great beams of energy streaming through the void towards their targets, while the weapons batteries fired their various armaments. It was a glorious display of the power of Novus Vir.

“And so you ignoramuses think the best way to keep them from their alien-hating ways is to make war upon them? See… Now they’re shooting at you. I bet this will really stop them being xenophobes…” Erisavenus waited, watching the local fleet attack, definitively irritated by the hamfisted effort.

OOC: Silly Taledonia, I know everything. o.o On that note, could you give me a general layout of the system so that I know where my expedition is deployed relative to the firefight?

IC:

Meanwhile, some 9 light hours away from the origin point of the Novus communications, a slipgate opened jettisoning forth the massive Traileric Hiveship and a handful of support vessels. They had overshot their jump point, but this was to be expected considering they had come from the far side of the Galactic Core..They now sat roughly galactic north by northeast of their intended exit point, and at the edge of the system to boot.

Pletorus was cradled in the Hiveships command node, interfacing directly with the fleet mainframe via his neural lace. It was surreal..Every time he plugged in and beheld the universe through the ship's eyes it was as breathtaking as his first time. The gentle tingling of stellar wind across his/the ships skin, the myriad of communications echoing amongst the fleet; in the distance, the electromagnetic chatter of gunfire.

"Energy spikes, everyone spread out. Form on me."

A simple command, for that was all that was necessary. After he had recieved his affirmatives, he nudged the Hiveship forward, simultaneously engaging space compression fields to their minimum density. With that, the engines kicked in to full burn and he slid smoothly towards the distant star. Four Hyphastion frigates and a plethora of sloops formed on him, every last one dwarfed by the two kilometer diameter of the supercarrier.

(OOC: I demand that you tell me how you know this is a puppet! I double demand! In the name of the Emperor, I demand an explanation!!!!!!! Waaaaaaagh!!!!! Anyways, I be Taledonia in other parts.)

IC:

Lord High Admiral Akosta watched realspace re-appear as his Emperor class Battleship emerged from the warp. Around it came another battleship, this time a Retribution class; two Avenger grand cruisers followed after that and after them came three Lunar class cruisers, two Gothic class cruisers, and a single Dictator carrier; finally did a Cobra and two Firestorm class escort vessels appear from the sinful portal where daemons dwelt.

"I have heard your call, my Lord, and shall heed your word."

He wispered prayers to himself, answering and praising the God-Emperor, filling himself with confidence and courage as he felt the will of his lord course through him. "Foul xenos!" he shouted as he regarded the alien craft just outside striking range of Holy Nova Terra. They had the advantage, and he knew it, for they had appeared without warning, and behind the enemy, to boot. All he had to do now was give the order.

With all the ferver and authority he could summon, which was enough to make even a daemon prince turn around and reconsider defying the will of the true Emperor of Mankind, he bellowed out his commands to his great warfleet on open channels, so that the enemy would hear the broadcast and warcry as clear as the soldiers of the Imperium themselves.

"In the name of the Emperor, and by his holy authority, bring fire and death to these foul creatures of the starless space. Send to them the judgement and retribution of our Lord!"

The first shots fired would no doubt be the greatest, as the fleet unleashed the nova cannons under its control, the great blasts propelling their firing ships back quite a distance, the vessels' engines compensating but still not enough to keep the ship in its original position. Immeadiatly following these projectiles of immense power were blasts from every other weapon the starships had. Lances lashed out, the great beams of energy streaming through the void towards their targets, while the weapons batteries fired their various armaments. It was a glorious display of the power of Novus Vir.

OOC@Trailers: Give me a break man. I wasn't trying to "throw my weight around", as you put it. I didn't realise Novus Vir is a puppet. Just lay off a little.
IC: "Gods damnit-" said the Admiral just before the powerful Nova blasts rocked his battleship. A Cruiser took a direct hit in the engines, imobilizing it. The shields on the battleship absorbed massive amounts of fire, then failed, leaving long scars and blast marks on the hull. One of the Carriers had been at the back on the fleet, and acted as a shield, the enemy fire blowing holes in the larger ship while a large portion of the fleet remained unscathed. Fighters, shuttles, escape pods, and every other manner of craft flew from the doomed Carrier as it drifted, leaking atmosphere and in flames, towards the enemy fleet. The rest of the ships began to turn. On the deck of his battleship, the Admiral picked himself up. "That was all they've got! Their guns must be overheated or running out of ammunition. Fire!" MAC rounds, Heavy Gun and Light Gun lasers, Heavy Ion Cannons, and AA fire streaked towards the enemy fleet, glowing either red or yellow. Fighters, patrols, and mechs lauched out of the remaining Carrier and began to run bombing runs on the enemy ships.

Damage Report:
1 Cruiser disabled
1 Carrier destroyed
1 Battleship heavily damaged
2 Cruisers lightly damaged

(OOC: I demand that you tell me how you know this is a puppet! I double demand! In the name of the Emperor, I demand an explanation!!!!!!! Waaaaaaagh!!!!! Anyways, I be Taledonia in other parts.)


OOC: Well, just to make a guess, I'd say this probably provided a clue:

(OOC: It's my second try at 40K stuff, but this time with the beloved IoM. Granted I base most of what I know on the game Dawn of War, I try. Thinking of Chronosia's writting gave me some ideas on what to put too.;))

(OOC; Shhh, nobody knows it's me. Anyways, even though this is a puppet it is completely seperate form my main nation, so it will be small, using the actual pop of this nation. But yeah. Me for teh win. Oh yeah, the system info. Uh....lets say....sun....then closest planet is a gas giant....then Nova Terra....then a useless rock like mars. Yeah, sure, sounds nice.)

IC:

It was a glorious display of power as the opposing fleets exchanged salvoes, the wreckages and chunks of vessels blown away in the initial assualt providing character to what would otherwise be a bunch of tubs firing light at each other. The defence systems of the Holy Fleet kicked in as soon as the enemy fighters had appeared nearby, the automatic targetting systems working quickly to ensure an effective blast at the bombers that moved in to swarm, the Imperiums own fighters launching from the ships to give chase as well.

Blast after blast impacted on the shielding, pouding the vessels of man without relent, dropping their formidable endurance quickly with each blast. But thankfully they were holding for now on most of the larger vessels, one of the escorts, however, was not so lucky. The shielding took a rather large hit, directly in the side of the craft, leaving the hull as the buffer between space and the artificial environment that was held inside.

More nova cannons fired, thrusting their platforms back, placing strain on the engines that struggled to keep the ships from moving too far in the opposite direction of the fight. Lances thrust forward with continued intensity, never a break in the firing, and torpedoes began to join the fray, the massive projectiles being launched at speeds close to that of light, targeted at the largest of the xeno vessels.


"I am Primarch Sagitas, commander of the Emperor's Avatar. Welcome to Nova Terra."

The man was enormous, and built like an ox, his frame made even more imposing by the bulky power armor he wore. As the delegation piled out of the chimera, the Primarch gave a half-bow, and signalled for the ambassadors to follow. He led them within the citadel, and maneuvered through the various corridors with ease, until they pushed through the great doors that seperated the rest of the palace with the throne room, the temple like room in which the recent coronation had taken place.

There, upon the jewel encrusted throne of pure gold, sat the God-Emperor of New Man. Large and majestic like his child, Sagistas, but a greater aura surrounded him, a halo almost being seen around his head, just above the crown of golden laurel. Mathius lifted himself from his chair, rising to his great height, and with an outstretched hand and warm smile beckoned the techpriest, the sisters of battle, and the rest of the company forwards, down the red carpet that divided the room.

Shields flickered and flashed as enemy fire was absorbed. The Carrier, being the largest ship, was taking the most hits. In a last effort to deal destruction to the enemy, the other stricken Carrier activated it's self-destruct system, creating a huge wave of heat and light. Fighters did their deadly dance though space, unloading their payloads, fire glancing off their shields, lasers flashing. There was a mighty roar (or would have been, if space could carry sound) as the Flagship let loose it's Heavy Ion cannons, Heavy Guns, and Superlaser at the Emperor class battleship. The other ships concentrated their fire as one on other ships, attempting to overwhelm their shields and penetrate the enemy hulls. Space was filled with laser fire. A shuttle zipped though, dodging rounds and lasers bigger than itself. It attatched itself to one of the Gothic class Cruisers, hoping to capture in and turn it against the enemy. More shuttles came inbound, some blasted away, others fixing themselves to the hull without a scratch. Where there was airlocks, troops would break in. Where there wasn't...well, they would simply create new ones.

The xenos had made a foolish mistake, commiting large amounts of their soldiers to a doomed mission of attempted boarding. They had failed to see that every inch of each vessel, not including the launch spaces of the various drop pod bays, were covered in weapons batteries. As they moved closer to attach to the hulls of the vessels of man, they would be torn apart easily by the heavy weaponry that laid beneath them, or even before they came close by the anti-fighter guns that were everywhere, protecting against the enemy bombers that whizzed about.

The Lord High Admiral made a grimace as he watched his escort ship split in half under the onslaught of enemy fire. "Enough of this pointless exchange of fire. All vessels concentrate on their command ship. Move the fleet into them, ram them, cleave them in two! And in the wreckage and holes, send forth our marines to destroy the enemies of Man from within!"

And so the Holy Fleet engaged its engines, moving faster and faster, straight towards the xenos, intent on raming their inferior vessels, all-the-while still unleashing an endless arsenal as they dawned on the aliens.

"Damage report!" yelled the Admiral over the din of klaxons and alarms on the bridge. The XO ran up to him. "Our boarding parties have been destroyed, and our shields are failing. There's no halting the enemy fire, and they're coming straight for us. I suggest a strategic withdrawl." The Admiral considered this. On one had, he should finish what he started, try to win a victory for the Empire. On the other hand, he had, against all his experience, rushed in thoughtlessly. Indeed, many more lives would be lost should he stay, and there was no guarentee of a win. "Pull out." he said finally as the ship shuttered under a fresh human salvo. "Recall all small craft, engage the reverse thrusters and projectile defenses."

The Xiscapian ships began to move backwards, deploying missile pods to destroy incoming enemy fighters and fire. Fighters, shuttles, patrols and dropships raced back to the survivng Carrier, filling it to it's max capacity. As much power as possible without compromising the shields. Once at a safe distance the fleet would turn and jump.

"Do not let the them escape!"

The call flooded the minds of the fleet, the Emperor himself giving the order as he witnessed the unfolding events in his mind. At his words, the fleet, intermingled and following the retreating xeno-compassionates, began targetting the engine systems above all else, hoping to stop them from escaping their grasp, hoping that they could completely decimate these foul beings who dared defy the will of the God-Emperor of New Mankind.

"Fire all guns at the fleet." Every ship fired headlong into the oncoming fleet. Ion cannons, Heavy Guns, AS guns, MAC rounds, missiles and laser fire all tore though space, heading on a direct trajectory for the enemy fleet.

OOC: Hope you don't mind another person coming in. This nation is small, and won't be doing the whole "LOL I SEND FLEETZ UV SHEEPS!101001010101".

...

Yes, I'm an rp puppet too, like Nova. But that isn't important, so stop looking at me like that. =P


IC: It is said that out of all the races, humans have the worst luck. From having nearly been wiped off of the face of the galaxy in the Earth-Minbari war, to having had the fascist dictator Clark rise to the Presidency, to facing annihilation in the Shadow War, humanity had some of the worst luck indeed.

This did not change, in the least, when Alliance High Command sent out the IPX Hercules to investigate outside of their borders. Alliance Intelligence had seeded agents in other nations and was receiving regular, if broken and disjointed, reports on nation strengths, military power, culture and holdings. However, in light of the meeting occurring in the Paloris System, with the Kingdom of Mythrandir, and the Humankind Abh, it was obvious that they needed more intelligence. In addition, they were still anxious about being invaded, so they needed to know who they could ally with and who the superpowers were.

So, when the message came about New Mankind's rise to power, it was natural to seek them out. Not only could the Alliance manage themselves against them if attacked, but if they were allied, they could both benefit from each other and become fine allies.

So, with many objectives in mind, the Hercules, an Icarus Type Scout Ship (http://www.b5tech.com/earthalliance/earthallianceshipsandvessels/earthotherships/icarus.html) was sent to scout out this new nation.(Note, I could not find a pic for the ship, so its the pic on that page. Kay? Kay.)

So, when the Hyperspace gate opened, depositing the ship into the system, it soon became obvious their usual bout of luck had returned. The bridge crew jumped as a missile could be seen on the viewscreen.

Flying straight at them.

Captain Marshall clenched in his chair. "Activate the pulse cannons" The weapons officer keyed in the command and the weapons came online, their generators warming up. They began to hear the collision warning go off as the missile came closer and closer.

"Weapons armed, Captain."

"Fire!" Four white blasts destroyed the missile and they soared through the debris. It was there they saw where the missile had come from, as the massive battle between the New Mankind fleet and some unknown alien fleet. Marshall's face paled. "Sweet mother of MARY!" He turned to the bridge crew. "Pull us twenty-three degrees starboard and give me every ounce of power the engines have! We have got to get away from this battle!" The ship turned almost as if it was in water, surprisingly quick for a ship of its size and blasted way from the battle. Laser shots and even a MAC shell soared far too close for comfort, but soon enough, it began to head away from the battle, and was now closer to the planet and the defenses New Mankind had. The sensors picked up the Ctan ship but they were too busy focusing on their brush with death.

Marshall was the first to speak. "Alright, get me High Command."

"But sir-"

"BUT NOTHING! Intelligence told us this was a calm system, with .07% chance of us having to deal with a conflict. Now, here we come, and we find a full scale WAR! Now, do as I say!" The comm officer was a little sullen but he did as he was told and soon enough the face of Admiral James Telios. This was a surprise, as one rarely ever saw the Supreme Commander of both Earthforce and the Star Navy at the High Command Headquarters on Mars. "Ah, Captain Marshall. Have you something to report already? You must have only arrived."

The Captain barely managed to keep his rage in check as he began to speak. "I have something to report, alright. Intelligence needs to have an IQ check, as we just ran into a full-scale battle between New Mankind and some alien nation. We damn well nearly died!" Telios frowned.

"They were right, Captain. I checked their report, they had sent a probe before you went in, this place was clear. This must have cropped up just minutes before you arrived." He sighed. "It would appear that our luck went bad again."

The Captain's rage died and turn into a wry half-smile. "So it seems. May I ask for some backup so that we don't get killed out here. That and it may make our soon-to-be neighbors happy when we aid them. After all, we don't want them to lose, now do we?" The Admiral gazed at Marshall severely before laughing.

"My god, no wonder Intelligence recommended you for this mission, Captain. You are the perfect diplomat."

Marshall grinned. "I try, sir."

"Alright, I'll be sending a battlegroup. It should there in half an hour to forty minutes."

"I think they can hold out till then, Admiral."

Telios nodded. "They'll have to; that battlegroup is the closest we have. Good luck, Captain. High Command HQ out." The Captain turned and faced the viewscreen, watching the flashes between the fleets.

"Alright, get me a channel to the planet there. We need to introduce ourselves and let them know that we have reinforcements coming."

"But sir!" The comm officer was being rather insubordinate today. "That will pull us into a war, which High Command said they didn't want!" Marshall glared at him.

"You underestimate the urgency of our orders to ensure we GET these guys as allies. They are on our doorstep, for crying out loud! Besides, I think we can take care of ourselves. Now, open the channel." The officer mumbled something and opened the channel. Marshall made a note to bust the man down to size when the time came. Letting out a breath, he began to speak towards the planet.

Attention New Mankind, this is Captain Marshall of the Earth Alliance, onboard the IPX Hercules. We do not come to harm you, in fact, I'd say I have something that would interest you greatly. We did come to negotiate with you and congratulate you on your recent consolidation. However, we see you appear to have a slight invasion problem. I have taken the liberty of calling in some reinforcements from my side, mostly for my protection. However, if you'd like, they can help run out these annoyances. After all, one has a hard time concentrating on negotiations when missiles and MAC shells are flying about. Good for the heart, though.

One of the bridge officers groaned. "Why did he have to use THAT joke?"

"Tell me about it, he cracked the viewscreen the last time he said it."

"What was that?!" The Captain's voice reeked of hidden menace.

"Nothing, sir."

"I thought so."

The presence of the ‘God Emperor of New Mankind’ had more than a few unusual effects on the delegation. From the least affected to the most, the hovering miniature drone in the shape of the starship simply hovered over its master’s shoulder, the tech-priest tipped the tip of his halberd reverentially, the terminator, seemingly ready for action even here, his features unreadable behind his psycurium laced helmet, nodded that head, as terminators were ever so slightly top heavy, and while he was unlikely to overbalance, a bowing terminator simply looked stupid, even as he bowed before the Emperor, Anárion seemed inscrutable, inhuman, in some way, more difficult to impress than the battle-sisters, whose armoured helmets had been left on the ship, and thus whose expressions of awe were clearly visible as they followed the lead of Anárion and their superior, more deeply affected than they were, but less so than the two others, bowed.

The starship in orbit watched the brief battle begin and end, and simultaneously a part of its mind viewed the events transpiring below through the sensor-dust dispensing remote that accompanied its captain, its locally-proscribed machine intelligence mulling over every gesture, taking estimates of physical size of both the Emperor and his Primarch, as well as the chamber they met in, the armour they wore, and countless other minutiae. It seemed that the newcomers were, not to put too fine a point on it, being beaten senseless.

Erisavenus wasn’t impressed, really. But nor was it exhalant. The Xiscapian vessels were not its cousins, able to be destroyed and view it as a mere inconvinience, they had thousands of people on board. It focussed briefly on one of the carrier vessels and actively scanned it, the results indicating two and a half thousand people on board.

In the throne room, the hovering drone gave a soft beep, and a live image of the battle composed by the wonder of real-space faster-than-light sensors appeared in a two dimensional holographic format between the Emperor and the ‘captain.’ Anárion nodded, “Your Imperial Majesty, it appears that your navy has driven the invaders away. If I may, your majesty, I would suggest that you allow them their lives; not only will the many like them be less inclined to vindication if you show yourself to be magnanimous in victory, but they will be able to tell of the rapidity with which your servants have defeated them, and thus increase your renown and that of your people… Assuming you grant your permission, my vessel is now prepared to break orbit in order to take on any survivors from the one vessel your majesty’s navy has lost in exchange for the enemy cruiser, as well as any invaders who may have survived, and may yet profit from the instructional example your fleet has given them in appropriate deference, it can be there in seconds…”

A benevolent smile crossed Mathius' lips, and there was warmth in his eyes as he regarded the bowing figures. He was about to speak, but then stopped himself as he looked upon the holographic projection being displayed before him. He knew all that was transpiring in the stars above him, but still he looked on with interest at everything being displayed.

"You have sense to you," he finally said, his great voice echoing throughout the chamber, "So then my permission is granted that you collect the survivors. All of my soldiers are to be immeadiatly brought down for medical treatment here; the xenos you may do as you wish with."

He walked a few steps to the right of the room, and stared up at the high vaulted ceiling. His eyes peering through the marble, granite, and glass to the heavens above. "As for allowing those who have opposed my divine power..." Another pause, as he calculated all the possibilities, not quite sure of what to do. On one hand he could recall his fleet, allowing the would-be invaders to escape; this option would make the delegation before him happy, and would make negotiations all the more easier, but at the same time it would be a contradiction with what he had previously stated. If he allowed his fleet to obliterate the xeno filth, then it would be a testament to the growing power of New Mankind, but could create many enemies he did not wish to have quite yet.

He turned back to the awaiting ambassador and his guard, and spoke not only to them but to his fleet that even know was continueing the chase and the onslaught. "I recall the Holy Fleet back to orbit, and allow the xeno-creatures to withdraw to their realms. Let it be known that I am generous and kind, but shall crush you under my boot should you dispute my authority."

He looked over at his own techpriest now, who was studying his counterpart in the foreign delegation. He pirked up, and turned to his lord, but was silenced once again by the knowing stare that was directed at him. Another psykic message was transmitted, reaching the ears of those that would hear it, but more speciffically the newly arriving vessel that had broadcasted a message of greeting.

"A reinforcing fleet is not needed, as my forces have easily routed the xenos. Have them as your own guard, if you wish, but I have no use for them thus far. I beckon you planetside, to my citadel, where we shall parley with yet another people who wish to ally with the God-Emperor of New Mankind."

Marshall glanced at his viewscreen, which was showing the retreating, but still firing, Xiscapian fleet. "I do not meant to be insulting, but while they are retreating, they are still in this system and could be a threat. And, if I am right on the fact that they attacked without warning, they will be back in greater force. However, I guess we can discuss that when I get down there. When the battlegroup gets there, I will have it do border patrol for this system. Just in case. I will be there soon, Hercules out."

Turning, he nodded at the sensor officer. "Lieutenant, you are in command till I come back." The officer nodded and, with that said, Marshall left the bridge. Within five minutes, he was in a shuttle heading for the planet. It shot through the atmosphere, and landed at the spot he was given. The ramp extended and deployed on the ground, as Captain Marshall, in his bluish-grey Earthforce uniform, stepped out onto the ground and waited for his escort to arrive. It was bad form to just go ahead and seek out his host. After all, he had to give them a chance to show off after all.

Erisavenus made a quick jump, travelling at a speed it regarded as a crawl, journeying some ten astronomical units in three seconds, re-emerging inside the weapons range of the stricken frigate, ignoring a few defiant shots from the few point defence turrets on the cobra still operating, and taking a moment to send a pulse of crackling energy through the ship that would make hairs stand on end throughout.

Squeaky-pops echoed through the ship as the ship began working to safely remove the remainder of the crew (starting with that gunner, and proceeding to remove people from the most damaged areas of the lacerated hulk to the least.

There weren’t that many to save; though still thousands. There was a reason, beyond playing to the host, that Erisavenus had gone for the local vessel first. Vessels of these classes tended to be considerably over-crewed.

Careful to keep itself out of effective range of the broadside weapons of the Imperial fleet, who may not yet have all received the astropathic stand-down order, it moved away, setting a course for the destroyed Xiscapian cruiser next, doing its best to avoid their lines of fire, too, while setting a tiny fraction of its self onto looking for records of Xiscapian colonies.

It set about stabilising the most severely wounded, one of the priorities in the design of the Arnstoan Rhien class ship was medical facilities, and it had two sets of decks, two hundred and fifty meters square, each with over ten decks layered atop one another, capacity for thousands, this was its standard configuration, it could rapidly expand that by four hundred percent, on humanitarian missions, and far beyond that. For now, however, its standard layout would probably have been sufficient.

Of course, the two areas were segregated; the Nova Terrans would have no contact with the Xiscapians, and efforts were made to make the facility the Terrans were displaced into seem more homely. For a start, the standard facilities, as well as diagnostic equipment, and a force that nullified psychic powers within most of the ship, were equipped with a network of miniature generators of holographic fields and gravitic forces. In theory, surgery could be conducted on the floor of an empty waiting room, but in practice, it was, well, common practice for the vessel to generate holographic avatars that could even feel real for patients to interact with. On this occasion, they followed the same general patterns of the hospitaller sister below, and did a fine impression of seeming entirely rushed off their feet. To add to that, there were a number of genuine sisters on board the vessel who insisted on providing aid, however, if the Terrans spent long enough in the ship, they would perhaps become wary of the way there seemed to be very few people on board, and a proliferation of locked doors, with no sign of maintenance personnel or other crew members.

Despite this, for the Terrans at least, the ship did the bare minimum to save lives immediately, staunching bleeding, supplying water, and so forth, but not beginning permanent treatment for anything but the most severe of wounds. It had reservations about this, of course, but for now decided the best course of action was to wait and see how things proceeded.


Meanwhile, Anárion nodded, “Thank you your majesty… your wisdom is indeed great. He read a flickering line of text on the holographic display, which now showed a real-space view of the damaged vessel, “my ship reports that it has entered range and is beginning the operation…”


In space, the Erisavenus shot a signal at the Xiscapian command ship, on a narrow beam that would only be intercepted if something with reception equipment were in a straight line between the prow of the necron vessel and the reception equipment of the Xiscapian one.

“We intend to take on survivors from your fleet. Is there anywhere you wish us to take them? Please reply in same method.”

In the same instant, the vast necrontyr vessel sent another, all-directions broadcast transmission, to the IPX ship. “We don’t think it’s immediately likely. More to the point, I don’t think you want to get a reputation for agitating for death pointlessly. If the Xiscapians were to find out that you provoked subsequent destruction of their vessels, I’m sure they would be displeased. We doubt the Emperor of Nova Terra plans to simply let them skulk around his system, so much as ensure they have ‘safe passage’ out of his immediate environs. And if they can tactical-jump their way out of it, they can doubtless do so anyway, so it’s academic.”

“We intend to take on survivors from your fleet. Is there anywhere you wish us to take them? Please reply in same method.”
The message was recieved, read, and acted upon in seconds by the ships's A.I. It sent a stream of coordinates back, these indicating the location of a small colony well inside Xiscapian space. It was followed by a language more than likely unknown to the reciever, but, if translated, would say the Terran equivilent of "Thank you, we are in your debt, may the gods smile upon you and your children grow rich and healthy."

The fleet continued to backpedal furiously until it was out of range of enemy weapons. After collecting a few stray fighters and escape pods, the fleet turned and jumped for an unknown destination.

(OOC: Sorry all, had some computer problems which kept me away for a time. But, it seems we are at a lull in the RP anyways, so let's fast forwards a bit. Xiscapia's forces are gone, and now all the remaining factions are engaged in a magnificent feast to discuss things with the Emperor.)

IC:

Though there was a magnificent bounty before them, the piety of the God-Emperor was still present. A great bird sat in the middle, perfectly cooked and plenty moist, with simple but tasty sides adorning it, such as sweet potatoes and peas. Magnificently made salads were everywhere, and loafs of fresh bread added a warmth to the dinning area. Racks of ribs and plates of steak sat around everywhere.

The table was rectangular and vast. The Primarchs of the two Space Marine chapters sitting on each side of the Emperor, who resided at the head in a smaller version of his throne. Next to them were the members of the Imperial council, and finally the Imperial generals. These made up the majority of the table, while the opposite end was reserved for the arrived delegates, sitting each party on opposite sides of the table so that they did not feel cowed together.

"I will be blunt," the God-Emperor started after taking a sip from his goblet of wine, "What are you each willing to offer in terms of agreements or alliance?"

Anárion managed to stick to a fairly universal set of table manners. Finding the right set of manners for that was always troublesome; one major constant among human derived societies was that knives usually went in the right hand, this was derived from historical use of daggers by knightly classes in the role, which their owners were accustomed to using with a right handed preference. Beyond that, and usually eating with your mouth shut, it was a matter of keeping an eye on what everyone else did.

“To be frank,” he said, “Our interest is mostly scientific. However, when we received your signal, we decided to put you in contact with similar groups we know of,” he nodded to the various others, including the still-standing, still armour clad terminator, who variously wish to promagulate new technologies and possibly use your world for recruitment…”

The space marine spoke, “As I am sure you know, it is always a difficult task finding recruits of adequate mental and physical strength. We wish the opportunity to search here…”

The lead sister spoke up, “Yes, it’s much the same with us, though we are sure we can find some way to be useful here, too, after a civil war there are doubtless many here who could profit from the attentions of the sisters Hospitaller…”

“And,” the mechanicus adept said, “I expect you have infrastructure damage that could use repairs…”

OOC: Ack. Apologies about my own delay in replying there, too...

Marshall sat at the table, looking with an appreciative eye at all the food and the beings who occupied the Imperial part of the table. If there was one thing Marshall liked, it was food and his hosts were generous. That was a point in his book. He heard the question coming from the Emperor as well as the reply from the other delegate who was here. When his turn came around, he cleared his throat and began to speak.

"Well, we will offer a treaty of mutual defense and economic freedom between us, as well as our government will make your economic well-being more important in our deals, below our own of course. We will provide military aid, both in troops, ships and money, if needed, as well as allow you to buy some technology. And, as our friend over here said, we can send workers, money and materials here to aid you in rebuilding."

OOC: I second the apologizing for the delay.