Neo-Mekanta
11-10-2008, 16:38
-OOC-
Take two. It's short, kind of second-rate, but it should set the scene well enough. The Mekantans have committed a large enough scale act of violence to "get it out of their system" so to speak, and the kindest, most sincerely diplomatic and friendly of the Mekantan commanders has been used. ... She's still a Mekantan, though, so while it's a perfectly peaceful diplomatic RP, it's inevitable there'll be some... bumps.
Oh yes, and the title had to be done. ^_^
-IC-
It used to be a star system.
There wasn't much to indicate such at first glance. The vast clouds of rapidly cooling gas could, with some imagination, be thought to have been a components star several hours prior. The clouds of dust and chunks of rock were close enough that someone could somehow think they had once been one body that had been carefully crushed. The wreckage of terrestrial cities could have been launched into space, somehow...
The only real evidence, however, only meant something to an entity that could recognize the massive black construct in the center of what used to be the system's capital planet as a Mekantan Darkship. Such an entity would know for certain that the cities had been ripped from the surface and exposed to hard vacuum, the planets had been crushed and ground, and the star had been rent asunder by the raw psionic might of the Hegemony's signature warship class, because that was exactly how the Hegemony treated the systems of those who pissed them off.
Deep within the warship, the Darkship's consciousness observed silently as its commander dressed. Like most Darkships, the Feran's Blood enjoyed seeing how the Mekantans it was partnered with behaved and interacted. The Mekantans were an extremely violent race, prone to starting entire civil wars at the drop of a hat, waging civilian fleet battles outside the capital system over resources that are neither rare nor valuable, simply to fight. Brawls had broken out in its own hull from time to time, in the middle of battle, simply because the opposition was too weak to make the inevitable curb stomp interesting enough to keep them from making their own entertainment. Mekantans didn't even have a word for rape, or a native concept of consensual sexual relations. The closest their language had for such a concept was "Teieth'ta xentsu'tih" or "a particularly violent fuck" in the more colloquial translations. Not that it mattered, violence was the greatest aphrodisiac the Mekantans knew.
Tashreh math Zaril, the Feran's Blood's commander, had herself given the Darkship full command and control during the battle, taking advantage of the carnage to take care of... needs. The relationship between the Mekantans and the Darkships was one that worked perfectly. A solid fusion between the genocidal violence-addicts who ate people, and the overwhelmingly powerful war machines who loved their purpose.
The young-looking Mekantan commander sighed as she fastened her cloak, smiling. Her long violet hair swayed lightly in the breeze she preferred constantly blow through her quarters, still damp from the bath she took after she and the battle both finished. The room was pitch black, the violet streaks on her face and her crimson eyes glowing softly as she navigated the room with her psionics alone. "Nlya'kalax?" She said softly.
Most Darkships made a show of pretending they weren't constantly observing everything that went on within themselves, feigning surprised voices out of some twisted desire to keep up an illusion everyone knew was false. The Feran's Blood simply didn't care to. A million booming voices carried the warship's words, a trait the slave-races of the Mekantans had dubbed a Darkship's omnivoice. "Nlya'za, Jahsoreh?" ("What is it, commander?" but literally "Know-being, command-woman?")
"... Thassa'ta chya'soh'jhii'za...." ("... The battle felt good...")
Amusement tinged the warship's omnivoice. "Teizkii'za." ("Thank you.")
There, in the devastation it had wrought, the Feran's Blood sat, admiring its work.
It wasn't just a weapon. It was a Mekantan weapon. And this was its only desire: More.
Take two. It's short, kind of second-rate, but it should set the scene well enough. The Mekantans have committed a large enough scale act of violence to "get it out of their system" so to speak, and the kindest, most sincerely diplomatic and friendly of the Mekantan commanders has been used. ... She's still a Mekantan, though, so while it's a perfectly peaceful diplomatic RP, it's inevitable there'll be some... bumps.
Oh yes, and the title had to be done. ^_^
-IC-
It used to be a star system.
There wasn't much to indicate such at first glance. The vast clouds of rapidly cooling gas could, with some imagination, be thought to have been a components star several hours prior. The clouds of dust and chunks of rock were close enough that someone could somehow think they had once been one body that had been carefully crushed. The wreckage of terrestrial cities could have been launched into space, somehow...
The only real evidence, however, only meant something to an entity that could recognize the massive black construct in the center of what used to be the system's capital planet as a Mekantan Darkship. Such an entity would know for certain that the cities had been ripped from the surface and exposed to hard vacuum, the planets had been crushed and ground, and the star had been rent asunder by the raw psionic might of the Hegemony's signature warship class, because that was exactly how the Hegemony treated the systems of those who pissed them off.
Deep within the warship, the Darkship's consciousness observed silently as its commander dressed. Like most Darkships, the Feran's Blood enjoyed seeing how the Mekantans it was partnered with behaved and interacted. The Mekantans were an extremely violent race, prone to starting entire civil wars at the drop of a hat, waging civilian fleet battles outside the capital system over resources that are neither rare nor valuable, simply to fight. Brawls had broken out in its own hull from time to time, in the middle of battle, simply because the opposition was too weak to make the inevitable curb stomp interesting enough to keep them from making their own entertainment. Mekantans didn't even have a word for rape, or a native concept of consensual sexual relations. The closest their language had for such a concept was "Teieth'ta xentsu'tih" or "a particularly violent fuck" in the more colloquial translations. Not that it mattered, violence was the greatest aphrodisiac the Mekantans knew.
Tashreh math Zaril, the Feran's Blood's commander, had herself given the Darkship full command and control during the battle, taking advantage of the carnage to take care of... needs. The relationship between the Mekantans and the Darkships was one that worked perfectly. A solid fusion between the genocidal violence-addicts who ate people, and the overwhelmingly powerful war machines who loved their purpose.
The young-looking Mekantan commander sighed as she fastened her cloak, smiling. Her long violet hair swayed lightly in the breeze she preferred constantly blow through her quarters, still damp from the bath she took after she and the battle both finished. The room was pitch black, the violet streaks on her face and her crimson eyes glowing softly as she navigated the room with her psionics alone. "Nlya'kalax?" She said softly.
Most Darkships made a show of pretending they weren't constantly observing everything that went on within themselves, feigning surprised voices out of some twisted desire to keep up an illusion everyone knew was false. The Feran's Blood simply didn't care to. A million booming voices carried the warship's words, a trait the slave-races of the Mekantans had dubbed a Darkship's omnivoice. "Nlya'za, Jahsoreh?" ("What is it, commander?" but literally "Know-being, command-woman?")
"... Thassa'ta chya'soh'jhii'za...." ("... The battle felt good...")
Amusement tinged the warship's omnivoice. "Teizkii'za." ("Thank you.")
There, in the devastation it had wrought, the Feran's Blood sat, admiring its work.
It wasn't just a weapon. It was a Mekantan weapon. And this was its only desire: More.