NationStates Jolt Archive

The newly constructed 7th Exploritory fleet rises into Xiscapia's sky, followed by the cheers of the crowd far below it. 2 Cruisers, 2 Destroyers, 1 Battleship, 1 Carrier, and 1 Medical Ship make up the fleet, along with 2 Supermechs and a Command Mech. The 7th's destination was an unknown section of stars, far from Xiscapian space, dubbed The Dagger Sector by the astronomers who discovered it, named for a knife-shaped nebula of gas inside that sector. On the bridge of the Battleship, named Master, the Captain stood. He was a tall Xiscapian, about 6,4, with light brown hair, skin the color of light coffee, and cool yellow eyes. His tail and fox ears were gray, and he wore a blue uniform adorned simply with his rank and katana. This kitsune's name is Sor, and he is a rising star in the Xiscapian Navy. He commands his troops and ships with a calm efficency, cowed by nothing. His mere presence raises morale and encourages the crew to work to the best of their ability. He is kind, and a diplomat, but once threatened has to work to keep his anger and bloodlust in check. Now he commands over 7,000 Xiscapians. The Exploritory Fleets have fared relativly well in the galaxy, managing to keep out of fights most times, and destroy their enemies or make them retreat or surrender. Once beyond the pull of the 4 planets in Xiscapia's system, the fleet jumps for the coordinates inside the sector.

The Blade of Khorne they called it, the great red nebula lodged like a dagger in the black flesh of the Universe. Long ago, so the feral denizens of the sanguine worlds caught in its shadow claimed, Khorne had struck out with his madness and malice, to marr the universe with a living emblam of his hate. The humans of those worlds that watched the night sky split with blood cowered from the great sigil of doom, the burning mark of Khorne, and so they had done for so long, lost in ignorance.

Till the Chronosians came.

More than simple zealots who prowled upon the cursed worlds, they were warrior-Gods, bestriding the Universe with strength of arms and faith that defied belief. They were Holy, Blessed, Chosen.

And so it was that those who had lived so long with but a flickering fraction of Chaos' glory, were illuminated. Forests burned and cathedrals rose to Khorne, and to those powers of Chaos that they knew not of. They let their bodies succumb to disease and rot, and so swore themselves to Nurgle. They let their cells tear each other asunder in evolutionary madness, giving themselves to the grand designs of Tzeentch. Many more surrendered to a thousand nameless lusts in the name of Slaanesh, sating them upon their own bodies and the supple flesh of their foe-brothers.

The slaves served in the rites of the temples, they worked the mines till their blood and sweat mingled with the dusty earth. They trained and they fought, at the side of the Astartes, Warrior-Gods from beyond the stars, and at the side of grizzled Guardsman, joining the ranks of both through gladitorial prowess.

Only now, as the world roused itself, its Garrison forces moving to readiness with the revelation of a strange signal in the void, an occurance, an event...An arrival.

A dozen Imperial vessels hung in orbit, clustered around Orbital defense posts. A single Ramilles class Star Fort, long since corrupted and debased, hovered silently, coordinating its own massive guns and the guns of smaller platforms.

A single ship had drifted from formation, the Ecstacy of Wounds, which leisurely awaited the ships identification. Upon the bridge, reclining into the gilded command chair, there sat one Admiral Cornelius Skeld. He let a hand drift across its ringed and jewelled partner, teasing a golden claw (which each finger terminated in) across the savage luxury of one great ring. He paused, raising a goblet to his lips, imbibing a deep draught of local wine, scented with the very souls of unfortunate vintners apprentices, before he began to speak.

Interlopers hear me, for I speak with the singular voice of Mankind's true Master! In the name of the Divine Emperor, Remiel De Drakan, I demand that you identify yourselves and your reason for being within the bounds of the Chronosian Imperium.

Interlopers hear me, for I speak with the singular voice of Mankind's true Master! In the name of the Divine Emperor, Remiel De Drakan, I demand that you identify yourselves and your reason for being within the bounds of the Chronosian Imperium.
"Sir, we are recieving a transmission of some sort. Demanding in the "name of Divine Emperor Remiel De Drakan" that we identify ourselves."
Sor thought for a moment. "Give them the usual."
Greetings, we are the Xiscapians. Our fleet is the 7th Exploritory Fleet, sent to investigate this sector for intelligent life. Obviously, we have found it. Is diplomacy a viable option?

Cornelius closed his eyes as he listened to the message once more, drifting upon the sea of his own memory. He remembered the early days of his trials, the tests put down for him in one of great acadamies of Chronosia, where the wisdom of beings far his better were dilluted and fed to the worthy aspirants. He had studied tactics and strategy, from the Failure at Thorn to the Thrashian Triumph. He had read of the great struggles following the Fall, of the formation of the Crusades to lay low all hated foes and to unify Mankind. He had heard tale of Remiel's death, rebirth and ascent to the Throne.

And he had walked, firsthand, those bloody paths set down by Mankind's true ruler. How could he doubt the power and wisdom of one such as he? An ancient and powerful being? A glorious and respected Master of every craft of war? While Lord Cabot walked the stars and left them dripping with blood in the name of Khorne, and Gabriel's great Legion brought enlightenment through the preaching of the Undivided...There were no beings in Chronosia that matched the might of the Emperor.

Remiel...

He let a smile slide across his lips as he remembered the pride he had felt, basking in the glory of the Emperor in preparing for the actions in aid of the Colonies of Kobol, the words of his Master ever in his ear...

Never forget, my children, that words are sharper than swords! There come times among the stars when the right words strike harder than the fusillade of a battleship!

Slowly he let his pale hand draw through the thick black of his hair, his sea-blue eyes flickering open as he gestured for a servitor, the mindless fusion of machine and man sauntering over in response to his movement.

"Have word sent to the world below. Have all on high-alert. Keep the guns trained but silent. I will see to it that these interlopers are properly examined. Cross-reference the term 'Xiscapian', with existing Imperial records."

He heard the recording click as the servitor hissed in vox-generated assent, moving off to deliver his message. Cornelius stood alone on the bridge for a moment, seperate even from those staff who idled at consoles or saw to strategic matters and arms preperation.

He began to speak.

Diplomacy is a viable option at this time. I am Admiral Cornelius Skeld aboard the Ecstacy of Wounds. I speak with the authority gifted to me by the True Lord of Mankind, Remiel De Drakan, Master of the Chronosian Imperium, and beloved of the Gods.

You are explorers. Wanderers amongst the stars, and you have wandered into our territory. Tell us of yourselves.

Diplomacy is a viable option at this time. I am Admiral Cornelius Skeld aboard the Ecstacy of Wounds. I speak with the authority gifted to me by the True Lord of Mankind, Remiel De Drakan, Master of the Chronosian Imperium, and beloved of the Gods.

You are explorers. Wanderers amongst the stars, and you have wandered into our territory. Tell us of yourselves.
The Battleship answered back:
We serve and worship all nature, of things that grow and crawl. Life is sacred under Qonn. The Elements can be used to serve us, but never for assualt or destruction: Only life and preservation of life can be served. Once, long ago, we were humans as well. But we have evolved to embody Nature itself. We seek peace and harmony among all things, a unity which shall last until the end of Time. The Katana sword is as a part of us as our ears or tails, as essential as blood and bone.

Ears? Tails? Then you are strange Abhumans indeed! In other times your ilk may have been known as Beastmen. While not as worthy, your ilk are certainly lost cousins of Mankind.

We ourselves control much, embracing the glorious power of Chaos, gifted by the Gods. They have led us through their chosen Prophet, the Emperor, Remiel. We seek to bring illumination and unity to all our lost siblings, to enlighten them as to the true and glorious path that awaits Mankind.

These worlds are ours and embrace the way of Chaos, the path to power and glory everlasting, a glory that shall rule the stars in the name of our glorious Gods.

And what is this true and glorious path that awaits Mankind?
Sor smiled. Strange humans indeed!

Why a glorious unity, of course! Only through embracing Chaos can mankind stretch across the Galaxy, indeed the Universe, and hold it in his grip, pruning away the chaff from the wheat, that existence might be purified. The Gods have directed us to expand, to preach, to bring our message to every corner of the galaxy and to educate those who resist.

Such is the path set down by our Emperor, when he brought about the end of his Father's reign and arose to become our glorious leader, returning from death itself with the word of the Gods upon his lips.

Cornelius smirked, so much pride flowing through him with the telling of their glorious history and the rise of his Emperor. These were Abhumans, a new strain of humanity to be examined and recorded, like any Ogryn or Ratling. An interesting development, certainly...

OOC: You're sugercoating it so much I want to throw up. :p
IC: Tell us about your Emperor, this Remiel De Drakan.

OOC: We have a very very high opinion of our leader. He did lead us forth from darkness, after all :P

IC:

He is our salve and salvation. He was created by his father, the First Emperor, as one of many, one of the Primarchs. He led the armies of the First Legion across the galaxy in great wars of liberation and conquest, till the time of the Fall.

It was then that he was illuminated as to the power of Chaos, spreading its will across countless battlefields, an unstoppable juggernaut of war. He was, however, slain by the traitorous Daniel Masaki, his great legacy ended before it could truly begin.

He returned from death, bringing an entire system beneath his heel in the rigors of his birth, emerging triumphant to return home and liberate Chronosia from his fathers ailing rule.

Since then, we have seen only with his vision and his purpose. His prescience has led us forth to expand, to bring others into our glorious Imperium, and to aid our allies in the Empire in their own expansion.

He is marked of Chaos Ascendant, chosen and favored by all four of the Gods, great and terrible. He wages war like a son of Khorne, has attained perfection as the favored of Slaanesh, sees with the eyes of Tzeentch and bears all the endurance and immunity that Nurgle could put forth.

He is our rock and our shield. He is our Emperor, and the true Master of Mankind.

The Captain was impressed. If this man was all he was said to be, he would be a worthy ally...if these people could be trusted. While this spokesperson radiated fanatical devotion and told of great feats, there was something...odd about it all. Perhaps it was the continues mention of "Chaos", or the bit about "pruning away the chaff from the wheat". If they were the wheat, what was the chaff?

Let us tell you of our own Emperor. The was once an alien race, about 8 feet tall, with grayish fur, like monkeys that have been superenhanced with great strength and intilect. These people called themselves the Korr. When my ancestors landed on what is now our homeworld, they were on the a nearby planet, seperated from us by a gas giant. Their technology was not nearly as high as ours were, but they soon developed space flight, though not FTL. Gradually my species and theirs made contact. Cultural differences soon alienated, excuse the pun, our species from theirs. War was declared, and a series of battles broke out, with neither side gaining or losing any ground, just troops. This war had been going on for 4 years when our Emperor entered it as a young soldier. He gradually rose though the ranks, and was known to our side and theirs for his fighting ability and morale raisng spirit. After the war had been going on for another 5 years, he was elected Emperor. However, at about this time the Korr took control of most of the moons orbiting the gas giant in a huge offensive. The Xiscapian Army and Navy was weakened by this point, as we had been brought down to an army of about 1,000,000 and a few hundred ships. We called for help and it came. Long story short, the Korr were utterly destroyed, their planet is little more than a vast and empty wasteland now, although many have escaped into the galaxy. A small population resides on our home planet. Since then our Emperor has brought us though another war with a people called the North Calaverans, who were destroyed by an unknown force as we prepared to strike their homeworld. Our Emperor is a great, kind man, willing to give his life for the people and kill to protect freedom and honor. His name is Foxfire Rose.

He chuckled lightly as he listened, knotting his fingers together as he pondered over what they had said. It seemed that a certain theme ran through the history of this race, buoying their successes and triumphs, subtly.

An abundance of luck then, it seems, has kept your race afloat. Aid from outside and the sudden destruction of enemies. Some would see that as good fortune, others as some outside force seeking to save your kind from its own end.

The Gods are with you, shielding you from danger till the inevitable moment that you are enlightened as to the purpose of your people within the Universe.

I would ask that we meet. That we can talk more of the manifest destiny laid down throughout the stars for all sons of Humanity, for all heirs of Terra. Even as divergent strains as yourselves.

As you wish. Where shall we meet? The planet, your ship, or ours?
Sor studied the planet and ships around it with interest.

I leave that choice up to you, Abhuman. There is much that you could learn from our customs and our ways, much we could offer you and your ilk. Enlightenment, power...You need merely embrace it, take the first steps upon our path and know the glory of salvation.

Again. The choice is yours as to where we meet.

"Alert the planet. Prepare for the possibility of guests arriving. I want as many warriors as we have on display. They are young, fickle...We'll show them the splendor of Chronosia."

A single shuttle departed the Battleship named Master and headed down to the surface of the planet. It landed without a sound. Captain Sor, escorted by two Black Guards, stepped out. He wore the blue Captain's uniform, adorned with simple rank and his white katana. He had lightly dark skin, a mustache, and yellow eyes. His ears and tail were a stately gray, flecked with silver. His guards stand behind him, silent and impassive, their black armor seeming to suck in light like a black hole.

The world below was a multi-faceted blister upon the face of the universe, gloriously blessed by the manifold powers of Chaos. Great cathedrals of black stone clawed at the sky, aglow with ruinous symbols, roaring with blasphemous incant. This was the way of Chaos, to corrupt and enslave, to raise up and to worship at the feet of their depraved Gods. Winds howled about them, casting up ethereal whispers and apparitions as they passed through the turbulent atmosphere to the world below, beholding its blighted splendor for the first time.

An honor guard waited at the base of the landing pad, a solid platform of black stone, marked with ancient sigils. Chronosian Space Marines, Chaos-blessed warriors of the Adeptus Astartes, waited about the Admiral, their black armour glowing in the malevolent light of the world, sanguine shadows cast across their flawless plate. They stood taller and grander than any mere man, enhanced by means of ancient science and divine blessing. Others stood about them, human warriors in the garb of a ceremonial guard. Imperial Guardsmen drafted into the service of the worlds priesthood.

"Welcome." The Admirals voice drifted from between his pale lips, twisting into a smirk. "Behold the glory and the blessings of Chaos. Behold a Chronosian world, given over to the worship of our Gods."

Sor cast a glance at the Space Marines and towering dark cathedrals. "Impressive." he murmered. "Shall we?" he asked the Admiral as he walked forward, followed closely by his Black Guards.

"We hoped that you might be impressed. These are the finest of Chronosian warriors, the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines. The pinnacle of our genetic manipulation and training, they stand as holy warriors, blessed by the Gods and gifted with abilities and enhancements beyond mere men. They are sons of the Emperor and his Brother-Primarchs, holy crusaders bringing worlds into compliance, bringing our human brothers back into the fold.

Through Chaos-" He gestured to the grotesqueries of the Cathedrals. "-We purify the Universe, we bring enlightenment and open the eyes of countless to the holy wonders of the Warp, and the power of the Gods of Chaos. Mighty Khorne guides our hands in war and bloodshed, Slaanesh leads us on the decadant road to perfection. Papa Nurgle shelters us from all ailments and disease, while Tzeentch stands as the Changer of Ways, Architect of Fate, Destiny, sorcery and the lives of Men.

Happy are we to serve their magnificence."

"And blessed you are in their glory. Your gods love you and grant you much richs. Still, I notice...where is the nature, pure and vibrent, on this world? It seems, excuse my bad manners, somewhat dead. Of course some nature and land must be sacrificed for the sake of progress and advancement, but it is still sacred."

"We have many worlds, each serving many purposes. While this world is set aside for worship and is touched by the Gods, there are many others. We have worlds dedicated to the forge, to the production of weapons and vehicles. Others are dedicated to the training of men, or the transformation of men into Astartes.

Our Imperium is vast, and there are so many organs necessary to its function. Not all of them can be kept pristine. There are some, favored by our Lord, which are eternally vibrant. Pleasure worlds that even now celebrate in his name.

For all the Imperium is roused to war with the old enemy, the Coreworlds of the Coredian Empire. The Emperor himself leads the fleets of the Galactic Empire to inevitable victory, with the finest warriors of the Imperium at his back." A smirk crossed his lips. "More the reason why we, his stalwart servants, strive to safeguard the holy domain of the Gods."

Sor frowned. "Coreworlds...I have heard that name before. They train Jedi, no? Why do you fight them? What wrong have they done against you?"

"They oppose the will of the Empire and the Imperium. It was they who first killed the Emperor Remiel, liberated him from the flesh and allowed the Gods to leave their true marks upon him.

In an odd way, we owe them gratitude. But they and the taint of their heresy must be erased."

Sor stopped and stared hard at Admiral, his eyes narrowing. "I have never known the Coredians to be anything more than right and just. What exactly is the will of your Empire? What are you working so hard to do that Coreworlds would oppose? It cannot be the mere spread of an Empire, it must be something more..." For the first time Sor became aware of how evil and dead this planet seemed. He could sense Dark Force swirling about it.
OOC: All Xiscapians are Force-sensitive in some way, although this usually only pertains to the ways of nature. Some can use their power like Jedi or Sith. Sor is one of those.

The Admiral chuckled lightly "The Coredians are a race of decievers and manipulators, ever seeking new races to stand as meatshields before their myriad enemies. Only recently they were involved in corrupting the civilian government of the Twelve Colonies of Kobal, resulting in a civil war that only the Imperium and the Galactic Empire were able to end.

Understand that it is not our Empire, but our Imperium. The Imperium stands as allied brothers to the Empire, not Unified under them, but as their most trusted allies. Remiel himself is Warmaster of the Galactic Empire, their supreme commander, controlling everything from the lowliest warrior to the mightiest weapon."

There was no touch of the Dark Side upon the world that they stood on, instead the taint was more insidious, more ancient. The power of the Sith paled before the twisted glory of Chaos, the insidious whispers clawing at sanity, forcing their feral will upon the very world.

Images flashed through their minds. Their race feral and savage, yearning only to spill blood and take skulls in the name of Khorne. Another had them feasting upon the succulent flesh of the innocent, vast orgiastic feasts amongst the silks and furs of sumptuous palaces. Other saw themselves rendered bloated with disease and rot, though impervious to the touch of sickness. Some beheld the great vistas of eternally shifting flesh that they could become, a million mouths singing the praises of Tzeentch, a billion eyes to watch the manipulation of capricious fate from a thousand writhing faces.

"The Coredians are our foes because they long ago opposed our allies, even before we endured the Fall and turned to our gods. But they rendered themselves blood enemies of the Imperium when they slew our most beloved, our most hallowed Emperor.

Worlds have burned, entire systems bled dry that this war might continue, and one day end...Raging for longer than you have walked abroad amongst the stars."

The Admiral chuckled lightly "The Coredians are a race of decievers and manipulators, ever seeking new races to stand as meatshields before their myriad enemies. Only recently they were involved in corrupting the civilian government of the Twelve Colonies of Kobal, resulting in a civil war that only the Imperium and the Galactic Empire were able to end.

Understand that it is not our Empire, but our Imperium. The Imperium stands as allied brothers to the Empire, not Unified under them, but as their most trusted allies. Remiel himself is Warmaster of the Galactic Empire, their supreme commander, controlling everything from the lowliest warrior to the mightiest weapon."

There was no touch of the Dark Side upon the world that they stood on, instead the taint was more insidious, more ancient. The power of the Sith paled before the twisted glory of Chaos, the insidious whispers clawing at sanity, forcing their feral will upon the very world.

Images flashed through their minds. Their race feral and savage, yearning only to spill blood and take skulls in the name of Khorne. Another had them feasting upon the succulent flesh of the innocent, vast orgiastic feasts amongst the silks and furs of sumptuous palaces. Other saw themselves rendered bloated with disease and rot, though impervious to the touch of sickness. Some beheld the great vistas of eternally shifting flesh that they could become, a million mouths singing the praises of Tzeentch, a billion eyes to watch the manipulation of capricious fate from a thousand writhing faces.

"The Coredians are our foes because they long ago opposed our allies, even before we endured the Fall and turned to our gods. But they rendered themselves blood enemies of the Imperium when they slew our most beloved, our most hallowed Emperor.

Worlds have burned, entire systems bled dry that this war might continue, and one day end...Raging for longer than you have walked abroad amongst the stars."

Sor did not hear the last few words, he and his guards were busy battling the images in their own minds. Repulsed, Sor opened his mouth wide and shook his head, as if to dislodge a particularly annoying pest. "No...evil taints this place. And something...more. Something else. I fear I cannot walk with you. I must return, as your aura is casting false images into my mind. I shall not dine nor befriend those who will Rape and Enslave and Betray and Destroy."
OOC: Something needs to happen, either to push them over the edge or make your people want to destroy mine. TG by the way.

"Evil...Evil is a point of view, mutable as fate itself. One thing considered evil by a singular race can be seen as the most benevolent act by another. There are those amongst us, neither slave nor master, who would offer their flesh freely as the most delectable feast. We wage war for the sake of our faith, to bring enlightenment to those who would reject the true path.

A pity that so many must be found weak in the process, weak and unworthy of the gifts proffered." A chuckle rose from his throat, harsh and malicious, as he stared pointedly at Sor.

"It is not my aura that speaks to you, but the very will of Chaos. Ancient, undeniable, it is the power that shall snuff out the stars and remake the universe in its own image! One cannot rape those who beg for their own debasement, one cannot enslave or destroy the unworthy and the inhuman!

Our every act is set forth on the singular path which the Emperor has put forth, the path to victory through ruination! We have taken sin and fear and death and overcome them, taken them into ourselves and become them!

If that falls beneath your mongrel sensibilities, then so be it."

Sor stared hard at him. "And so it is. Only those who keep slaves and rape their women and destroy rather than tolerate non-believers would sink to such levels. I know humans. You are nothing like them. You are, as they say, sub-human. You have not even proved yourselves worthy of your own planet." He spat this last word, anger showing in his yellow eyes.

"We are more worthy of being deemed human than so many other pretenders. Only we are favored by the Gods, only we recieve their blessings and walk with their servants. Only we can lead this galaxy into enlightment." He smiled.

"You deem us unworthy of our world, but it is merely one of many that we claim, that we rule and that we...Bless. So many souls strive to worship our Gods, and the divine Prophet of their Will, that they no longer care what happens to them.

There are worlds with mountains of skulls and oceans of blood, continents of flesh touched by perfection or disease, entire worlds given over to change and prophecy...There is no force that can cleanse them all, and even if there was...The populace would be husks that they would deem lost. The Coredians would not hesitate to kill every last one of us, civilian or not...Just as we seek to rid their taint from the galaxies and bring their flawed rebellion to its deserved end.

We are purity...We are exalted. We are not weak and closed-minded beasts. Mongrel vermin who question the rule of a living God."

"You forgo any chance of any citizen being an individual in this. My visit here all comes down to this: Are you willing to live and let live, or do you forcibly convert once words have failed? All your pleasures and luxeries at best mean nothing to us, at worst are disgusting and horribly flawed. As you have said, your people are too far gone...they are not worth saving. Refer to my question, and answer truely."

"There are most certainly individuals, individuals bound by a religious epiphany. Before the revelations of Chaos, we were shadows...We changed, we were enlightened. There are some who we leave to their own devices, but many others must be made to see the glory of Chaos, must be forced to bend knee to Remiel.

We have subjugated many by our own hand and as part of the Galactic Empire, it is ancient pacts of duty and revenge that bind us to our current course against the Coredians.

Who are you to question a civilisation that has thrived through centuries of eternal war?" He smirked, his hand tightening at the hilt of his power sword. "Who are you to question the chosen of the Gods? Their favored instruments and the very angels of their wrath?" He gestured with a hand to the armoured Astartes, their helmets reflecting coldly in the glare of the warp-touched atmosphere.

"Would you believe this is merely the most basic of their battle armours? The most simple of their weapons...There is so much you could learn from us, such lessons in adaptation, manipulation. You can deny pain, or embrace it utterly...They have shown us the way...They have cured us of our failings and our weakness"

"You have twisted yourselves. To fail, to have flaws, is to be human, or so they say. I know not. While I admit, I am tempted, I shall not stray from the philosophy that has served me so well for so long. You are powerful, beyond many of our wildest dreams. And I'm not denying you utterly. Should they want your way, they can go get it. But here, now, I reject this. This is my final statement. There is no more to be said."

"To aspire to true perfection, to shed those flaws which restrict us as mortal men and to embrace the power that would make us truly blessed. You speak of twisting, of failing, but we are touched by their divinity, we are ourselves made divine!

You would deny my hospitality at the expense of your entire races enlightenment, and while you speak of allowing them to chose their own path, you utterly deny the knowledge that would redeem you.

You are right, we are more powerful than you could ever imagine, and we are also blessed with a certain amount of patience. I will ask you again to reconsider, and so not damn the entirety of your race. You have promise, to redeem the sins that have brought you to this moment, so much less than the purity of True Humanity."

Sor frowned and took a private moment with his flagship, speaking in low tones. Finally he turned around. "We are entrusting with you with one of our priests. She will study your ways and is a represntative for our race. She will deem your gods and religon as either worthy of our time or not. I will be leaving now, in my place she will come. If we decide not to embrace your religon, we will leave and never bother you again."