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Flesh and Blood - IC | Chapter 1 - Spite

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Post by Whos Tue May 10, 2016 8:10 pm

Ruthless Galaxy


Flesh and Blood


_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Ravena Year: 51,766


Location: Classified


Time: Classified


Operation: Classified

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey Kivo, is everything ready? These Celiks are getting restless, and I'd like to get going myself."

The Jorro'kil who spoke was standing in the open top hatch of a large, black, rectangular shuttle, of Xikarian build. He gestured down at the workers inside the shuttle.

"Relax Vessen. The cargo is almost ready. They're making final checks on the safety measures now." Came the reply. Kivo Naviir, a swarthy-feathered Jorro'kil, and who was also Vessen's co-pilot, had just left the facility wherein their precious cargo was contained. He walked up to the shuttle and looked it over.

"Looks sturdy enough." He remarked.

"It is, absolutely. I've studied it from top to bottom. These Xikarians can build some excellent vessels." Vessen replied.

"Well, I think we can." Another voice interjected. A Xikarian wearing a thick metal suit stood outside the shuttle, near Kivo. "This is important cargo that we will be carrying. Such protection is an expectation for this operation."

The Celik behind Vessen and Kivo continued his spiel. "I'm sure you were told this in the mission briefing, but I want to emphasize extreme caution. Reports of rebel activity are common around this world, and even keeping this base safe was... quite a task."

"But you are expert pilots, and we have faith in you to bring us out safely."

"I appreciate your confidence in us." Vessen replied. "Still, I would like to know what exactly it is we're carrying-" Kivo abruptly cut him off with a slashing gesture.

"No questions. It's above our pay grade. Speaking of which, I have reason to believe that if we accomplish this mission, there'll be a raise in both our pay grades." Kivo said, nodding for emphasis.

"I do like that. We'll get it done, though, regardless of the pay involved." Vessen said, looking at the Xikarian who had approached them. The Celik nodded. "I have to go oversee final liftoff and shuttle departure preparations. You'll excuse me." He said, and walked away.

Kivo waited until the Xikarian had left before he spoke again. "Worried they don't trust us?" He said. Vessen waved him off. Kivo wasn't the most discreet of kils, even when he was trying to be. Vessen then descended into the shuttle's hold to study their consignment, as much as he could. He didn't want whatever it was they were carrying to blow up during space travel, or at any other point, for that matter.

In the relatively small and specially built cargo bay at the bottom of the ship, four Xikarians had managed to carry a large object draped in a metallic sheet onboard. It looked inconspicuous among the rest of the cargo, precisely as intended.

These Xikarians were clearly very protective of their shipment. Several barriers, consisting of other "cargo," had been set up inside the hold. The true cargo lay at the very back, protected by what seemed to be two turrets hanging from the ceiling.

Initially confused by the arrangement, Vessen was quickly able to put two and two together.

The Xikarians were anticipating being boarded.

The Celiks, barely completing safety measures, didn't bother to hide this from Vessen, though a subtle atmosphere of urgency had now descended upon them. Silently, the door to the shuttle hangar began to shut, and Vessen was politely asked to return to the cockpit. The kil complied.

Vessen and Kivo both sat in the cockpit, silently preparing for liftoff. The shuttle engines flared, the vessel ever so slightly began to shake, and the ground beneath their feet began to shift upwards. The craft hovered to some two hundred feet above the ground as it prepared to finally leave the atmosphere.

Vessen adjusted the throttle forward, taking a deep breath, and the ship finally began to move. Only several seconds had passed before a muffled explosion was heard. Shooting Kivo a questioning look, Vessen was clearly worried.

Kivo could only answer with a confused shake of the head.  

Alarms began to blare, and everything became a blur. The ship flipped upside down and crash landed on a wide open rocky plane. The expertly crafted vessel survived the impact intact and with mostly aesthetic damage, though Vessen knew that their attackers likely planned to deal more serious injury to the shuttlecraft.

Vessen quickly unbuckled his emergency straps, which had kept him locked to his seat and saved his life. He then glanced at Kivo, who was sitting motionless in his seat. "Unconscious," Vessen hoped.

Further back in the ship, gunshots were heard. Another explosion had probably blown a hole in the wall, and Vessen had simply never noticed. The vessel was now a battleground, and both pilots were trapped in the cockpit, helpless.

All these Celiks sounded the same to him. From the safety of his seat, he didn't dare move, though it was impossible to tell who was winning. Shouts of pain, urgency, and bravery seemed to come from both sides.

Several minutes had passed, and the sounds of battle had finally faded away into a tranquil silence.

Vessen remained utterly motionless when he heard voices coming from outside of the protective doors of the cockpit. These voices spoke a foreign tongue. Vessen shook; it dawned on him that his attackers never intended to take prisoners.

The door was blown open, and Vessen was roughly and forcefully grabbed from his seat. His head was slammed into the ground before he could react.

A Celik wearing distinct navy blue armor dragged him through the halls. Paralyzed, Vessen didn't move. At this point, his fate was sealed.

With his vision blurred, he saw a pile of Xikarian corpses, armor battered, and with blue-red blood coating almost all of it. Vessen had little time to react as a nearby Celik rebel shot him in the upper neck.

Reis...

________________________________________________________________________________________________

Six Months Later...


Concealed Medical Facility 27

Patient Examination Chamber

Session 46: Patient no. 178.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bloodshot eyes flitted back and forth between the confining walls of the stark-white room. The owner of these eyes tried to stay awake. He knew they were coming for him, the ones who patrolled the halls. They said they were going to help him, but he had convinced himself that nothing could be done for him.

Nothing except revenge. Revenge was all he ever thought about. He spoke of it ceaselessly. He would have it. These "doctors" would not keep him from it.

Someone entered the room through doors which were previously invisible.

"Hello. How are you doing today, Vessen?" Said a soft female voice. It seemed almost detached from the speaker.  

Vessen's head turned quickly to get a good look at the source of the voice. His caretaker blocked the doorway. She never let him out. She was working against him, like everyone else was.

After Vessen didn't reply, as usual, she sighed softly and entered his room. "You have a visitor today," the same soft voice intoned.

Vessen's eyes immediately refocused on the stranger behind her. Short, with a light complexion and with alien clothing covering its body. His blood ran cold when he realized that it was a celik.

His moment of shock passing quickly, Vessen immediately tried to lunge at it. The celik flinched but otherwise didn't move; Vessen was tightly restrained to the far wall of the room. Wrapped in a straightjacket, it was clear that it wouldn't have been the first time that this kil had had problems.

After a moment of examining Vessen, the celik quickly bowed his head in respect. A computerized voice, likely from a translator, was emitted throughout the padded, soundproofed room. Even though it was artificial, the voice was still soft and quiet - the celik was trying to keep him calm.

"Hello, Vessen," the Xikarian started, "You may call me Recet. My condolences for your situation."

Vessen, breathing heavily, only snarled in response; "Leave now, or I will... kill you... monster." Distrust emanated violently from the kil's tone.

Recet shared a glance with Vessen's caretaker. Though Recet's eyeless face was difficult to read, the caretaker was able to detect discomfort in the celik's frown.

Recet, after taking a moment to gather his thoughts, responded to Vessen in the same soft robotic voice. "I do not want to hurt you. We would be delighted if you'd work with us - and bring justice to the ones who wronged you."

"You... you are the ones who wronged me."  Vessen shakily replied.

His caretaker took Recet aside for a moment.

"He is very adamant that all Celiks are his enemies. Be careful in what you say to him. His health may decline even further with this stress."

Recet hummed quietly. As the translator failed to detect this, the slightest bit of irritation could be heard within his voice. He sighed and allowed himself to meditate for a few seconds.

He turned back to Vessen, bowing his head deeply. Recet asked lowly, "Then what would you have us do to atone for this?"

"Heh.. now that you ask.." Vessen paused, and looked directly at Recet.

"I want you to know.. all of your kind.. burning oblivion. I want you to be unable to gather your thoughts from a listless voyage into nothing, severed from reality."

"And then I want you to die."
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Concealed Medical Facility 27

Lobby

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"May I have your name please?"

A polite female attendant asked the nervous kil who was standing in front of her. She was holding a datapad, which was ready to receive the visitor's answers to various security questions.

"Uh, well, it's.. Reis." He replied, uncertainty enveloping his tone. The attendant looked at him quizzically.

"Reis. Surname please?" She asked.

"It's uh-" Was all Reis managed to say before being interrupted by a loud wailing and a harsh mechanical voice over the facility's COM system.

"Warning. Station shielding failure. Warning. Station shielding failure. Structural integrity of station threatened. Please report to the designated safe zones."

The announcement continued to repeat as both the attendant and Reis stood bewildered in the lobby.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

An isolated figure stood in front of a glowing array of panels, surveying his work. He was incredibly satisfied; curiously, he was both stressed and relieved. His sabotage had been accomplished, and he was now left to wait in giddy anticipation for the results.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Things became chaotic quickly. Doctors and other staff retreated, while patients and prisoners were locked within their rooms by automatic doors. The caretaker gestured for Recet to step outside of Vessen's room, and the Xikarian hesitantly complied.

For the first time since Recet's arrival, Vessen's attention switched from the Xikarian to the open door. The tiniest click was heard from the back of Vessen's restraining jacket. He had less than five seconds to make a break for it. He stood up and sprinted.

Recet reacted automatically. Despite his small size and stature, he still tried to step in the way of the escapee. Vessen kicked Recet in the chest forcefully, knocking him down before he could prepare himself. Vessen vanished within the sea of other Jorro'kil heading towards the safe zones, leaving a frantic caretaker and a furious Recet behind.

"By the Blue," Recet cried, "Don't let him get away!"

"He won't get away, unless someone opens the security bulkheads for him." The caretaker advised. She pondered who might want to help Vessen. Then she gasped, silently, and beckoned to Recet.

"Follow me. We have to overtake him, before.." She trailed off, and headed down an adjacent corridor meant only for use by facility personnel.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Reis, caught in a swarm of engineers, nurses, attendants, and a few kils armed with stun rifles, was trying to make his way back to the entry bulkhead.  The female attendant who had been trying to assist him earlier grabbed him by the arm. "Vai ("sir" in the Jorro'kil tongue), it isn't safe to leave right now. An asteroid storm is approaching, and we need everyone to gather in the safety chambers."

Reis looked bewildered. He nodded, and complied. She led him to a small group of other visitors, and they were brought to the nearest safety chamber quickly and calmly.  Unfortunately, Reis was just about to step into the safety chamber when a huge chunk of rock came crashing down into his path; the rock left in its wake the serrated metal of the station's hull. Reis lay sprawled across the floor, stunned and cut off from the other kils who, he hoped, were inside the safety chamber. Lambent embers and a rather rancid smell filled the corridor, and as the dazed kil picked himself up off the floor, he noticed a dismembered limb reaching out to him, trapped beneath the burnt rock.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Vessen zigzagged through a maze of corridors, all the while being directed by a mysterious voice through a COM piece that Vessen had been hiding in his fist.

"You, you better not be lying." Vessen said.

"I'm not lying. Take the door to your right." Said a deep voice over the COM.

Vessen obeyed, and the adjacent door opened instantly as he approached it.

"Why help me? What are you? A spy? If you're a Celik, I'll-"

Vessen stopped mid-sentence; after he head walked through the threshold of the open door, the door shut behind him as quickly as it had opened, and he was left in darkness. Then, another door, in front of him, opened wide; a soft glow from within the next room beckoned him forward. He cautiously approached the doorway, and peaked inside the room.

"I have something for you." The voice said. It resided in darkness still.

"Where.. where are.. you?" Vessen said, uncertain of his own faculties. Perhaps this was all just an illusion. Maybe he was back in the Patient Examination Chamber, dreaming. The kil briefly wondered if it were possible to dream to death. That wouldn't be such a bad end, he thought; one would never really know whether he had died or not. Vessen didn't care whether he died or lived, but he planned to use his life to get revenge on those who had wronged him. While he still had breath in him, he would seek their hurt.

He stepped forward, and his feet came into contact with something lying on the ground. He knew immediately that it was a body. Whether it was alive or dead he couldn't tell.

"Take his uniform, and use it to reach the shuttle I have prepared for you. It has pre-set coordinates and enough supplies to last you until you reach your destination." Stated the voice.

"And what is my destination?" Vessen stated the question almost as a retort.

"An outpost, where our brethren in arms will take care of you." Said the shadow-veiled voice. It paused, and then continued:

"I know what has been done to you Vessen, and I am.. sorry. I- we, want to help you."

Vessen stood silently for a moment. This was the second person (or in this case, seemingly disembodied voice) who had told him they wanted to help him.

"I cannot see you. Why should I believe.. heh, that you're anything more than a spectre of my own insanity?" Vessen inquired.

"I'm standing right in front of you." The saboteur stepped forward, although he still appeared to be invisible to Vessen. "The drugs in your system must be wearing off; there are more inside the shuttle waiting for you.  You must hurry. I will give you directions to get you safely to it." He said, trying to sound as reassuring as possible.

Vessen looked around in the darkness, and then focused his attention on the guard lying at his feet. "One size fits all?" He said, and chuckled dementedly.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Begin


Last edited by Whos on Tue Oct 11, 2016 5:47 pm; edited 6 times in total
Whos
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Post by Luxembourgish Tue May 17, 2016 8:45 pm

Reis was somewhat surprised to notice a Xikarian and one of the caretakers frantically searching the station. He noted with relief that they seemed to be unharmed.

"Excuse me, what is goi-"

He was interrupted by the caretaker, "What are you doing out? There's a safe zone down the hall to your left." She seemed at least a little distressed. The Xikarian seemed much more distressed. "I'm sorry," he said to the caretaker, "But Vessen is getting away. We're losing time."

Reis immediately stopped moving. "Vessen?" The celik retorted, "What is it to you?"

Reis folded his arms. "Vessen is the name of my brother.. I came to see him. I assume you're chasing him."

The celik finally seemed interested by this information, but managed to let go of it. "Please," he asked Reis, his voice at least somewhat softer, "Get to the safe zone. This isn't your business anymore." The celik continued down the hall at a jog.

The caretaker apologized for the celik, "Please, Vai. Get to the safe zone before more people get hurt." She quickly chased after the Xikarian.

"I can't," Reis shouted after her, "I was cut off from my safety chamber by an asteroid or.. something. I don't know where to go." With little other choice, however, Reis chased after the pair. At the very least, the caretaker didn't seem to mind, and the celik was momentarily too distracted to notice that he was following them.

The halls seemed to rumble, and the trio finally stopped in their tracks. The caretaker exclaimed, "We can't pursue Vessen at this point! It's too dangerous!"

The celik shouted back, "No! We cannot let Vessen escape." As if in disagreement with this, something seemed to impact the wall of the station, causing the entire hallway to rock and twist in the stress. A visible dent was left in the wall directly adjacent to Reis, causing him to jump in surprise, but thankfully the seal wasn't breached. This finally seemed to change the celik's mind. "Okay," he muttered, "Let's get to the safe zone."

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was hours before the bombardment ended, and even longer before the shields were brought back online. By then, Vessen was long gone. To Reis, it seemed like Recet was going to have a fit as they left the safety chamber.

"I'm going to pursue him," Recet told the caretaker. "I will be acting in the interests of your nation as well as my own." The caretaker looked agitated. "We don't even know if he escaped. He may be dead, or trapped somewhere." She replied.

"And if he has escaped?" Recet said. It was at this point that Reis spoke up.

"If you're going to go after him, then I need to come too. This is my brother, isn't it?" He inquired. The caretaker doubtfully looked between the two. She reluctantly pulled up a holographic image of Vessen on her wrist COM, and showed it to Reis.

"That's him. Well, when do we leave?" He said.

"You don't leave. You are a private citizen," Recet pointed out, suddenly quite tense. "Can you imagine the paperwo- look, you're not coming."

Reis tried to look as unyielding as possible, but came off appearing only to be uncertain. "No, I need to come. I know him, more than you. I can tell you about him, I can help. I have to come."

"He," Recet retorted, "Is mad. You don't know him anymore."

Reis was about to respond, when the sound of boots marching in unison brought the trio's attention to a Jorro'kil being escorted down the corridor. The kil in question was bruised and bloodied; the cause of his injuries was unclear, especially considering the recent asteroid storm. His uniform indicated that he was not an inmate but an officer at the station.

Recet stopped the guards as they were passing by. "Who is this?" He asked.

"This is the individual who sabotaged the station's energy shields." Came the reply in a weary tone of voice.

"Why did you do it?" Recet asked of the saboteur, surprisingly calm considering everything. The bloodied kil simply stared at him.

"Are you a terrorist?" The celik inquired.

"I am no terrorist. I know what I fight for, unlike these blind people who follow the Imperial Coalition without a second thought." The saboteur said defiantly.

Recet was quiet for a moment before continuing. It was clear that this Kil was one of the few left that were still loyal to the old Free Absolute. It seemed, however, that the celik did not wish to comment on this. It would only complicate an already complicated situation.

"Very well," he finally answered, "You must have been involved in the escape of one Vessen-"

"No." The saboteur abruptly replied. Recet realized the kil was trying to protect the escapee.

One of the guards held out a data chip to Vessen's caretaker. She stared at it for a moment.

"We found this on his person. It's the tracker unit for a shuttle that was taken." The guard said.

The she-kil looked at Recet with a sudden worry on her face.

Recet caught the caretaker's look. "We should get going, then. I figure that we don't have much more time to lose."

Reis opened his mouth as if to say something, but Recet cut him off. "And yes," he said exasperatedly, "You... can tag along. Just know that you are risking your life."

"Yes, I know." Reis said, in an oddly contented way.

Recet only tilted his head at Reis quizzically before managing to drop the subject. "Very well. Gather anything you brought with you and meet me in the docking bay as soon as possible." He nodded at the caretaker, "You too." With everything in order, people began to file out of the room. The prisoner was dragged off without any protest. Recet had to admire his fortitude.

Recet stopped the caretaker before she could leave. "Thank you for assisting me. May I know your name?" For once, he seemed actually thankful, even if he was still taking care to keep reserved.

"My name is Rakera." She replied, rather timidly. "And, also, I think that I should accompany you in your search for Vessen."

At this point, Recet seemed much too exhausted to argue further. "Very well," he responded. "At least you are qualified, unlike the other one..." He nodded at Rakera and left the room.

The trio prepared quickly, and gathered in the station's docking bay as planned. Meanwhile, Vessen's escape had already been executed. His shuttle moved farther away from the station with every passing moment, heading towards an uncertain fate.
Luxembourgish
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Post by Randomnator Tue May 24, 2016 7:07 am

With relish Warlord 17 smashed his mace down on his attacker's neck, his foe crumpling to the ground with a scream. The Jorro'kil were retreating to a more defensive position, making use of crude, snow-covered barricades and rocky cover in order to try and blunt the Hithe advance. From his own position, 17 snickered as the more inexperienced 'kil failed to take into account the Hithe's agility and were quickly swarmed.

However there were those among the defenders who had fought the Pale King before in his previous raids around the Pradum sector. These Jorro'kil kept calm, focusing on each target with precise shots to the chest and neck before picking their next target. Even with their superior numbers the Hithe charge was losing steam as the plasma fire cut through their ranks. Letting out a guttural roar, the Pale King fired his stolen assault rifle into the air, the bark of the weapon rallying his followers and sending a signal to those in hiding.

With a spray of dirt, snow and stone a giant centipede-like creature emerged from the ground to his left, its massive bulk crashing down on one the Jorro'kil's barricades. The Crawler's handlers hung off metal spikes jammed into its rocky exoskeleton, whooping and firing their weapons in order to goad the siege-beast forward. Plasmic small arms fire pattered harmlessly off its eyeless head as it swung around to smash apart another emplacement.

As the Crawler effortlessly tore apart their defenses the enemy made a tactical retreat, pulling back into their complex set into the base of the cliff and closing the armoured gate behind them. Those too far away or too weak threw themselves at the Hithe with renewed vigor, but were either gunned down or torn apart by ravenous Bristlebacks that circled the main warhost. The Hithe as one bellowed their triumph before turning towards their leader, awaiting orders.

Warlord 17 gave a dismissive wave before squatting to clean his weapon in the snow. The troops settled in and started to rummage through what was left of the dead Jorro'kil for trinkets and weaponry. Others simply tore into their dead prey for sustenance. The Pale King grinned when a fight inevitably broke out over who would get the enemy squad leader's ceremonial sword. Needless to say the blade ended up lodged in someone's gut.

Soon after a squat, heavily built Hithe hunched down next to the Warlord, picking his teeth with a Jorro'kil armfeather. The two exchanged a brief glance before the underling spoke.

"So how we gonna kill 'em off? Get the Crawlers to dig under? Bomb the place from the ship? Just don't say we're gonna starve 'em out lik-"

"Shut up 1030, remember who's the Warlord here. I have 164 and a couple o' others scaling that cliff over there," the Pale King growled as he pointed upwards towards the cliff face.

"We'll wait a bit," the Warlord's face took on that peculiar expression he had whenever he explained a plan. "Give 'em time to think their safe, then kick that door down and slaughter 'em like Cable Biters in a bucket. They'll run into 164 if they try to get away, makes things easier and a lot more...fun."
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Post by Whos Sat May 28, 2016 8:30 pm

Vessen slouched into the cockpit of his shuttle, and found himself unable to do anything more. He sat in the padded seat, and waited for his nightmares to embrace him. A dull awareness snaked its way into his mind. Something was reaching for him, something from his left. He dared not look; his hallucinations were setting in.

But these hallucinations would not be allowed to fester, at least for the time being. A needle injected itself into Vessen's left arm, and from it antipsychotic drugs travelled through the Jorro'kil's body. The drugs brought with them a gradual awareness; Vessen soon realized what was happening to him, and began to notice his surroundings more keenly, as well as the increasingly sharp pain in his left arm.

The kil's attention was most captivated, however, by a fidgeting motion to his right. He glanced over towards the movement, almost afraid to look, and found another needle held aloft by a malfunctioning hydraulic arm. He wondered why the hydraulics had failed to work, and decided to see what kind of needle would have been injected into his right arm. As he examined the needle, he found the serial number and drug designation on its side.

Had he suffered the second injection, it would have put him to sleep.

Vessen lay back in his seat, suddenly exhausted. The fact suddenly dawned on him that he had just escaped from his prison; he could hardly believe it. Reinforcing this was the holographic message that started to play automatically, which contained the same voice that Vessen had encountered earlier. Still shrouded in darkness, the figure spoke.

"Vessen, you should be awake. I broke the anesthetic mechanism, so listen carefully. You have a chip in your body which will prevent your access to most of the shuttle's controls. However, the shuttle has an emergency surgical bay which can easily remove the chip from you. Take the security key I left on the console in front of you. The key will enable you to access the surgical machinery."

Vessen saw the rectangular, plastic key, and grabbed it hastily.

"After you have removed the chip in your arm, you will be able to access the nutrient supplies on board, as well as any other necessities. Don't try to alter the shuttle's course, though, the directional coordinates are locked in. Your destination is a Free Absolute outpost; the individuals there will help you in any way they can." The voice paused as if searching for words, "This is all being accomplished for you, Vessen."

The recording ended, and Vessen left his seat to find the surgical bay.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Reis eventually found his way past the debris and occasional carnage which the asteroid storm had produced, and met Rakera and Recet in the shuttle hub. Security personnel walked past him, carrying a would-be escapee. The inmate's leg had been impaled by a ragged piece of metal that flew at him as he had tried to flee earlier. He left a trail of blood as he was dragged along a corridor, but made no sound or indication of pain.

"You both left in a hurry." He said to Recet and Rakera. "You were trying to lose me, weren't you?"

Recet didn't respond, but continued in his task of gathering supplies for their journey; Rakera also said nothing.

"Listen, on my way here, I was stopped by uh, a lot of wounded kils trying to get to.. wherever. It made me think, why would that kil back there, the one who sabotaged the station, only make an attempt to free one prisoner? I mean, he was clearly helping Vessen. As far as I'm aware, Vessen is the only one he helped. Why?"

Rakera shook her head, unable to answer. Recet appeared to gaze downward for a moment, and his posture seemed to indicate that he was uncomfortable with the question.

"Do you know something about it, Recet?" Reis asked.

Recet shook his head. "I wouldn't know anything about Jorro'kil politics," he responded. "But if he let Vessen escape... Well..." He hesitated. "I suppose it wouldn't be out of the question to assume that they shared a common goal. Or, at the very least, Vessen possessed something that be wanted. Revenge?"

Reis shook his head in dismay. "I don't even really know what happened to my brother. Why would his story be worse than that of anyone else here? The saboteur didn't try to help anyone else. I don't think he even cared if they died."

Recet and Rakera both shared a look. Recet was clearly thinking of Vessen's desire for vengeance against the Xikarians - If the exiled government of the Free Absolute knew this about Vessen, would they, too, be interested in harming the Xikarian Amalgamate in some way?

Rakera, on the other hand, was looking back distainfully at the situation that got Vessen imprisoned in this asylum in the first place. She was truly sorry for him, but she couldn't bring herself to tell Reis exactly what happened.

The conversation carried on when Recet finally spoke, "Let us hope that Vessen doesn't act the same way as the one who broke him out."

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Recet's personal vessel was spacious enough on the inside. To the front was Recet's quarters and the cockpit, with reinforced windows allowing a view of the outside from within. Built around the back were four different rooms that seemed to have various uses. Clearly the rooms would be serving the purpose of bedrooms for this journey.

At the center of the vessel was a "living room" area, complete with a makeshift kitchen and resting area. With these features in mind, one could deduce that Recet often spent days in his ship. Indeed, this ship was designed for long and treacherous journeys - even if this journey was its first one outside of the domain of the Xikarian Amalgamate.

The outside of Recet's vessel was bland and unassuming, save for faded green and yellow markings on the top half of the vessel. Facing the cockpit, an inscription could be seen on the side. The Insignia of the Xikarian Amalgamate stood out, colored jet-black in contrast to the rest of the ship's more brightly-shaded exterior. Beneath the insignia was another inscription - words in a Celik language that neither Reis no Rakera could understand. To any Celik, however, the words could be read clearly: Dyruri III.
Whos
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Post by Randomnator Sun Jul 03, 2016 2:54 am

The Jorro'kil readied their weapons as the doors crumpled inwards from the combined weight of the Hithe warhost. As the first supersoldier bounded over the bent metal he was met with a wall of gunfire, the avian aliens having set up a massive chokepoint along the main thoroughfaire.

The typical Hithe is a sturdy creature and can take a disturbingly large amount of punishment on the battlefield. As such the first few warriors managed to stagger through the killzone, smoking and riddled with plasma burns before being beaten down with gun butts and combat knives. As far as Warlord 17 could see, things weren't as fun as he thought.

To make matters worse his trump card was sitting idle. Irritated, the Pale King rounded on the crawler handlers. "Oi, Why haven't you got that crawler in there!?" he shouted, pointing towards the entrance.

One of the insectoid beast's masters shrugged, unfazed by his leader's anger. "Can't eat metal. It'd be like trying to feed a Bristleback a can, it'd take too long and just end up hurtin' it."

17 growled in frustration as he set off down towards the warhost crowding the door. Shoving his minions aside the Pale King pushed his way to the front of the group, taking note of the smoking corpses that piled up in the Jorro'kil's killzone. The Hithe charge had halted, survival instinct having won over bloodlust after the death count had gotten high enough.

17 didn't stop, ignoring the stray shots that zipped by him as he hunkered down next to the twisted doors. With a furious shout the Hithe warlord pulled the heavy metal structure up and tossed it further into the hallway, crushing anything or anyone that was in the way.

"ALRIGHT YOU LOT, GET IN THERE AND SHOW THESE MAGGOTS WHAT WE'RE MADE OF!"

The Hithe surged forward with renewed energy at their leader's words.
______________________________________________________________________________

"Push them back! For the Free Abso-guk!" The Jorro'kil officer was cut off mid-battlecry as a crude tomahawk dug into his chest, the alien dropping dead.

It was slaughter. Their chokepoint compromised by the sheer size of the enemy force, the Jorro'kil were swept up and blown away by the stream of Hithe warriors. The Pale King himself was a vortex of destruction, smashing apart his foes with gleeful abandon and bellowing for his minions to follow.

164's retinue added to the chaos. The Hithe band had trashed the hanger bay set into the cliffside before moving to rendevue with the main warhost below, cutting down any Jorro'kil that crossed their path. Along the way 164 made sure to kick open every door he came across - sometimes twice whenever he took a wrong turn - but didn't find what the Pale King was looking for.

Eventually the Free Absolute fortress fell, its walls painted with the blood of its former inhabitants. The bodies of both Hithe and Jorro'kil were strewn everywhere, already being torn apart for trophies by the victors. The main body of 17's force had gathered at what was originally a cafeteria-like room, now a holding pen for the few Jorro'kil left alive.

The Pale King paced in front of his captives, their hands bound with hardened Hithe resin. "Where's the vault?" the warlord growled, rounding on one of the Jorro'kil as his mouth stretched into a macabre grin.

"..."

The Hithe's hand clasped around the alien's neck at the lack of response. "The vault. Where is it!?" 17 snarled.

The Jorro'kil's face twisted in disgust at the smell of the warlord's breath. "Make me," the avian spat, his eyes staring back at his enemy in defiance.

17's expression shifted from threatening to amused. "Heh, very well. 804, that sword if you will."
A very battered-looking Hithe limped forward and yanked the blade lodged in his gut out, handing it over to his leader who wiped the foul-smelling blood off on the Jorro'kil's vest. Without much ceremony 17 skewered his prisoner with the weapon, driving the point into the wall behind and pinning the Jorro'kil in place.

17 regarded the corpse for a moment before speaking to the assembled Hithe. "Bring the rest of them onto the ship, the arenas need new blood and I think they'll be just as chatty as this one. As for the rest of you lot, tear this place apart, the Prophet said that vault is here and I want it now!"
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Post by Luxembourgish Sun Jul 24, 2016 11:08 pm

Blood-stained, but still very much alive, one Jorro'kil had managed to elude the Hithe scavengers after the violent skirmish had ended. He lay propped up against a communications console, beside the bodies of his fallen brethren. It was a struggle for him not to gag at the sight of their mutilated corpses, but he managed to stay still, hoping the stench of their dead bodies would hide him from the roaming Hithe.

Then, lying there, fearing that he would be discovered any moment, he heard the communications console activate. The kil immediately stopped breathing, anticipating the immediate attention that it would draw from the Hithe beasts.

None of them noticed the faint beeping. The soldier gradually released his breath, relaxing slightly. If he could just see what the incoming message was, he could potentially take action. A shadow of a hope crossed his mind; perhaps he could be rescued. He started to move his head, ever so slightly, angling it towards the console's monitor. As the glowing image on the screen came into his peripheral vision, he couldn't help but worry that a Hithe would notice him; none of them did. The soldier's helmet had been ruined by several glancing blows during the Hithe assault, and he was forced to get rid of it, which meant that he didn't have the luxury of a motion tracker.

When the monitor finally came into his view, it took him a moment to make sense of the message on-screen. Then he realized that it was a ship, requesting to land at the base. The kil knew that he needed to redirect it, immediately, so as to avoid the immediate slaughter of the ship's occupants. This communications console would let him do it, but he needed to act quickly.

The kil's feathers became increasingly oily as he nervously hurried to redirect the incoming ship. He tapped urgently on the holographic command keys, trying to remain calm despite his fear of being discovered by the Hithe beasts.

As he closed in on his goal, the soldier remembered something very useful, which he would try to pursue immediately after saving the ship.

The final verification prompts came up on the holo-panel, and the soldier was able to giver the base's systems the order to redirect the incoming shuttle to the storage cache, located roughly a kilometer away. Then, he set about initiating the holographic training simulation. The kil was in a hangar which could be used for combat exercises, using holographic foes firing lasers at the trainees. The soldier hoped that the simulation would distract any of the invading Hithe long enough for him to escape through the destroyed hangar doors, and, perhaps, make it through the icy mountain range to the storage structure. He would need to take a helmet from one of the dead, in order to complete the vacuum seal on his combat membrane. The combat membrane, standard Jorro'kil powered armor, would sustain him for at least part of the journey.

He typed in the appropriate command on the console, causing the ambient lighting in the hangar to dim. Holographic figures, like glowing specters, came out to play.

(Don't kill the soldier, Random)

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Vessen hobbled back to the pilot's seat, where he sat down, feeling tired. He looked down quizzically at the stitches in his arm, where nanobots worked to encourage his flesh to heal at an increased rate. He felt odd about the tiny machines moving about in his body, but wasn't sure why. He chose to put the curious sensation out of his mind, deciding instead to focus on the cockpit's holographic control panels. Vessen had a natural familiarity with the controls, and he was partially cognizant of this fact; the kil had forgotten many things, but this ability wasn't one of them.

The shuttle's viewscreen had been deactivated, prompting Vessen to open it before doing anything else. What he then saw on the viewscreen gave him pause; it was a large, frigid planet, and the shuttle was moving ever-closer to it. He realized that this must have been the destination that the voice had told him about, where the Free Absolute would help him. At least it couldn't be any worse than where he had come from.

He hoped.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Eight Celik days had passed, and Recet was becoming increasingly anxious. Though the ride was a quiet one, and Recet's personal vessel was one of the fastest models of its size, there was no telling for certain how close he was to his target. And with little further orders from his homeworld, the detective slowly began to feel more and more lost.

For the past several hours, Recet had locked himself within the cockpit of his cabin, learning anything he could about Vessen, the pod in which he escaped in, and the rogue Free Absolute government. Though his two passengers did their own business in his ship, quietly enough as to not disturb the easily-annoyed Recet, every single noise they did make seemed to make staying focused even more difficult than it had been before.

An alert on his vessel's detection device was a welcome distraction. There was, in fact, a nearby system, where Free Absolute activity is known to exist. Cracking his knuckles, Recet felt a gleeful smile grow on his face. He got up and moved purposefully to the door separating him from Reis and Rakera, opening it loudly, attracting their attention.

"I believe I have found him."

After several seconds of silence, Rakera was the first to respond, "...Where?" Perhaps surprised by her lack of excitement, Recet managed to calm himself down. He sighed as he recollected his thoughts. "Ah... Apologies. We are at the outskirts of Imperial Coalition territory. And I believe that we have stumbled upon an Free Absolute stronghold. If Vessen isn't heading there, then I don't know where else he would be going."

Reis chimed in, "Then.. let's go find him... now!"

Recet gritted his teeth. "Uhh... It is not so simple, Reis. I... Need permission from my superiors before I even think of landing there."

Reis pouted. "We are going to lose him if we don't act!" And as much as Recet hated to admit it, Reis was correct. Recet hummed after a while of hesitation. "...I will contact them, then. I suppose that is the best chance we have..."

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A simple radio pulse was emitted from Dyruri III onto the world beneath it. A request to speak. The pulse took a split second to reach the surface, and every single antennae within range managed to catch it.

COMM silence ensued.
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Post by Alimnation Mon Aug 01, 2016 10:52 pm

Location: Xliveien space Olmeta Bound

A small patrol fleet lead drifts in the area searching for any activity. Leader of this fleet is Lt. Avlex, an Xliveien who recently returned to duty after the events about a rouge Jor'kil ship. So far the patrol has been quiet and nothing strange has happened. Though the crew of the patrol is becoming bored fairly quickly and even some have stopped paying attention and just want to go on shore leave in a few days.

Inside the main patrol ship name the "Silent Xion." The bridge is mostly empty only being manned by two pilots while other members of the crew are either at the shooting range or playing cards in the common area. This was of course a standard procedure on most Xliveien vessels as they have not had much contact with aliens and Xliveien themselves tend to get bored quickly when there is no action or combat.

Lt. Avlex is taking a walk around the ship until an intercom had come on. "Lt. can you um... come up to the bridge please. I think we have a problem." Avlex sighed a bit as he turned on his heels and returned to the bridge. I wonder what the problem is now. He thought to himself.


Last edited by Alimnation on Fri Aug 05, 2016 12:47 am; edited 1 time in total
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Post by ShadowBroker Tue Aug 02, 2016 2:15 pm

A blue star shows in the middle of image, shinny with all it's might. Light waves separating from the core, expanding towards the void while the surface explodes and spreads like constant nuclear bombs.

And as this image zooms out, at first slow but then picks up speed. We now see the small star like a dot in the face of the galaxy, through a window. The camera continues to zoom out, slower this time, just to see that now the same window is getting covered by shadows of Citheres with their arms extending to the sides taking over the next comrade forming a barrieres, absorbing the energy of the star.

A song starts like a choir of angels, accompanied by what seems to sound like violins and this does not fades away with the distance.

But not everyone was absorbing the energy, a single Cithera'no is running down the corridors of the vast ship. It's feathers seem to move wildly like hair step by step as it reaches destination.

Thousands of doors lined up all the way down but one that seems open and quiet. Light coming out from within, lighting the grey metal-like floor and wires that adorn the apex that forms the floor and the wall.

This entity stops dry upon the door, staring right into the room showing herself to our eyes. Sura Orx, the squire. Her arms extends to the sides as she recovers balance on her feet. Right after, she starts to wonder inside the room and speaks, "Hunter?"

As our imaginable camera zooms out, we meet Hunter's face watching from what seems a window to the star. He sat down in a metal stool and he spread his legs free to any direction like a wounded man. What happened, in fact, was that his eyes were lost in such beautiful image, and so was his mind.

"Sir?" Sura replies upon his lack of respond. Just like a madman or twisted warrior, the Hunter moves his glance away from the window in such a slow motion that would make anyone impatient. Once his gaze meets hers, he would quip, "Not all open door are for you to pass through, Sura..."

"I didn't find you in the community areas..." she spoke with boldness, "Whats the matter?"

The Hunter keeps his glance upon her for a good moment before raise from his seat and answer while he takes his cloak and sets it on his shoulders, "I had the same feeling again..." Sura sighs as her hands reaches her waist, her eyes lost in the room, "This time was clear, Sura, a prediction of the Void..."

"With all due respect, Hunter, one doesn't see further in the Void but backwards..." she replies dismissing those ideas with her head in disagreement, "That is how it is suppose to work..."

Once the Hunter finished setting his cape, he nods and stares at her, "Have you come here based on curiosity or something more?" Sura tilts her head to a side as she had to ask, "...your vision told you that?"

He lets out a small chuckle within his mask, "Wrong, you are an open book..." he states as he walks out of the door with Sura following her, "Remember to withstand formalities if witness are among us." She looks further in the corridor and then backs to him, "Where are we going?"

"To the High council..." he answers, "Clearly, if there are news that keep you from taking your time, the Wardens may need me there..." Inir shows himself decided on his path while Sura keeps thinking on his reaction towards her words as she mutters, "One day, Inir, you will find yourself in such embarrassing situation if you keep reacting like this..."

______________________________________________________________


Meanwhile, in the high council of the Wardens. Thande, Suak and Thogoro are in a long table like the arc of a quarter moon. The three thrones set upon outside the table looking to core. The room itself was spacious like a hall. At the center, panels with all kinds of alerts and notifications spin around in slow motion for the three to see and share their thoughts.

Thande, Suak and Thogoro; the three wardens were in the same room speaking about news on the status of the crew, ship and energy which was absorb. The helmets they wear are different from the rest with a star instead of the basic visor.

Thande is speaking up, "And the last of the energy will be sent towards the engines to ensure their functioning. The population must always remain in the center ship before reactivate the routes back to the rest of the fleet."

"As much there are ones that agree," Suak speaks raising her left hand, opening it as to request to speak, "There is but an issue that I and my people keep wondering how to act."

Thande tilts his head towards her, he stares at her for a moment before answering, "Maybe the information should be treated with more delicately instead to be delivered without filter..." he quips as she raises her head above his glance as she feels the sharp tone on the statement, she replies in return, "The Void would have spoken in your place if not I..." Thande shakes his head and replies, "Now we may never know if the Void would have taken it's time to notice our people, won't we?"

Thogoro makes a groaning noise that grows underneath his breath, a small scar can be seen under his helmet that pierced his throat long time ago making his voice almost impossible to be acknowledged, "Intruders..."

"Aren't we the ones intruding into space?" Suak replies back to Thogoro and he only groans again, "I enjoy the silence you make when mistaken..." she continues teasing with him.

Thande speaks over, interrupting the cheap chat, "We should recalculate the possibility to charge the communications of the ship instead of power up the engines..." Thogoro hits the table with his right hand, twice the size of a normal one, "...Weapons..." He says underneath his breath, groaning in both pain and dislike.

"An act of aggression may only give the wrong impression..." Suak again replies over Thogoro's short but determinated statement. Thande nods to both of them as he speaks, "We may power our powers as last resource but we can't communicate towards other races without someone to translate."

"I already arranged that Hunter send us regards towards the new specie.." Thande moves his head towards Suak in order to interrupt her but Thogoro does it first as he lets go a more larger groaning, standing up and setting both hands over the table, "... Madness..." he makes his way to speak.

Thande stands up with Suak as well but only to stop the conversation, "I share Thogoro's perspective, Hunter isn't ready for this task." Suak covers her hands behind her back and answers with skepticism, "I am afraid I must deny your statement for I believe he is more than ready. Unless you are but speaking of yourself, Warden."

Thande limits himself to stare at her above her glance for a brief moment until shelter his doubts and locking them within his fist, "If this is the will of the Void..."


______________________________________________________________


Both Hunter and Sura are walking towards the bridge of the flagship as it moves faster thanks to the energy absorbed in the last star. Every single Cither remains in it's place working on the panels of control or saluting the Hunter on the bridge.

Once Inir reaches the end of the bridge, reaching the very glass of the window that limits metal, structure and wires from the deep space, he does commands to Sura without returning his glance, "Squire, prepare the assault squad to make a quick swing in case of aggression." Sura nods in agreement, "Yes, my lord" answering without expression of doubts, while Inir moves to the center of the bridge and speaks to the crew, "Send our regards to the ships on the radar, use the words I translated for you..."

Inir locks her hands behind him as they are covered by his long cape, his glance watching directly to the static screen awaiting for the ship to accept the halt.

Or otherwise...
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Post by Randomnator Tue Aug 09, 2016 10:12 pm

804 was rummaging through a food storage section, stuffing his face with freeze-dried fish when he heard a faint electrical discharge, the sound right at the lower end of his hearing range. The recently unskewered Hithe turned around to find thousands of light particles grouping together in a vaguely humanoid shape.

The figure sharpened, taking the form of an armed Jorro'kil warrior. More curious than anything else, 804 unsheathed his rusted knife and stabbed at the Jorro'kil, the blade phasing right through. Unfazed, the intangible warrior raised its weapon and fired.
_______________________________________________________________________

The base erupted in pandemonium as the Hithe in the hangar were suddenly surrounded by their ghostly enemies. Blades and bullets carved through thin air instead of flesh as the Hithe lashed out, only managing to hit each other in the crossfire.

"Oi, watch it!"

"I can't hit 'em!"

"Smash them harder then!"

The Pale King growled at the stupidity of the situation. "Cut it out, all of you! They're holograms! They can't hit us either!"

"Holo-whats?"

"Hollygrams?"

Slowly, all but the most crazed Hithe calmed down, settling for staring at the holograms warily. 17 ignored them as he looked up, passing through the holographic Jorro'kil in front of him. Attached to the ceiling were a criss-cross of many cables that grouped up and spread out along each passageway. Picking a particularly thick bundle the Pale King fired his weapon into it, severing the cables with a spray of bullets.

The holograms winked out of existence as the hangar and surrounding corridors faded into darkness, the lights and heating systems shutting down from a lack of power. Satisfied with his work, 17 holstered his rifle and headed back to where he had been before the holograms appeared.

The foretold vault was proving difficult to crack. The initial attempt to simply blast it apart had failed and so a...specialist had been called in. 952 was for some unknown reason a master safe cracker, thief and little else, the gangly, bug-eyed Hithe preferring to sit out of combat whenever possible. 17 had come to the conclusion that he was just sick in the head.

"There you are boss. I think I found the weak bits in this vault door," 952 tapped several different spots along a series of strengthening bar locks as he bobbed his head, clearly pleased with himself.

The Pale King was unimpressed. "Until I see that thing off its hinges you're not off the hook. I still have a necklace thief to find after all."

The thief hastily turned back to his work. Pulling several stony spheres from his pack, 952 gave each a lick before sticking them down on each of the spots he had pointed out. With the charges placed the two made a hasty retreat before 952 turned and threw a pebble with decent accuracy, striking one of the spheres.

With a shocking amount of force for things so small, the charges blew the supportive bar locks and a chunk of the frame off. The explosion drew in the other Hithe like moths to a flame, which the Pale King took advantage of immediately.

"Alright boys, pull that thing off!" 17 instructed, watching as his underlings tore the vault from its frame at his command.
___________________________________________________________________________

There was nothing. No riches, no weapons, just datapads and other storage engines. Warlord 17 howled in fury as he tore the room apart, smashing apart what in the right hands was priceless information. He didn't care for data though and he felt cheated that there was noting he found valuable.

Rounding on the Hithe that stood at a respectable distance, he spat out a hate-filled order, his mind fizzing with rage.

"BRING ME THE PROPHET, SHE'LL PAY FOR LYING TO ME!"
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Post by Whos Sat Aug 13, 2016 8:55 pm

The kil required only a few moments to slip past the distracted Hithe, and dart through the burst hangar doors. Once outside, the soldier glanced back at the chaos behind him, gave an appreciative salute to the holograms, and sprinted away across the icy mountaintop.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Vessen felt strangely relaxed during the turbulence of atmosphere-entering. He felt almost at home with the familiar jolting, and this puzzled him for a moment. Why should he enjoy this experience that would be stressful to anyone else? Anyone else? Was there anyone else? Vessen had forgotten. He put it out of his mind, and focused on the view screen and the associated controls. Apparently, his ship had been caught in a weak gravitational beam, and was being directed towards a destination. Ten minutes passed, and the shuttle began prepping to land; Vessen watched the automatic processes with some strange satisfaction.

The shuttle landed, Vessen stood up reflexively, and strolled towards the shuttle's exit. On his approach, the doors used for ingress and egress recognized his presence, illuminated with blue light, and slid apart.

Vessen stepped into a room full of brisk air. Artificial light brightened the room, but before Vessen could effectively observe his surroundings, light-headedness overtook him, and he collapsed on the concrete floor.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


"No response," Recet muttered. Whether the Jorro'kil had refused to answer his call, or they were simply unable to receive it, nothing good could come from this; Vessen was getting away. With a groan, the Xikarian again sent a message requesting to speak, only to be met with further silence.

"We have to land," Reis interjected, having been peeking over Recet's shoulder at the console the whole time. Recet shook his head in disagreement, "That would not be a good idea." With a huff, Vessen's younger brother seemed to suddenly summon power within himself that Recet had not yet seen. He was quite a bit more determined than Recet had ever given him credit for.

"We have to," Reis started, "If we want to find my brother again."

Recet replied, "This is a different matter! If I land there, there is the possibility that we will all be murdered. My nation will be pulled into your little civil war - This 'landing' will hurt more people than it will help!"

"I don't care, he might be down there... He might be. We have to try." Reis said, looking imploringly at the celik; listening to Reis seemed almost painful to the Recet.

Curling his hands into tight fists, and taking a deep sigh, Recet couldn't believe what he was about to say.

"...Very well. But if anything happens," He muttered, "It is your fault."
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Post by Alimnation Tue Aug 23, 2016 10:21 pm

The radar indicated that smaller ships were now approaching. The pilots looked to Avlex for guidance as he sat there and debated his actions. Thus he decided that communication was his best bet. “Open a channel with the ship. Don’t use holo-comunications just standard but remain on high alert. If they attack send a request of help then return fire.” The crew nodded as the then set up the communication channel. When the set up was complete the communication expert nodded to Avlex who then tapped part of his armor to turn on the mic.
“Attention unknown ship. This is Lt. Avlex of the Xliveien Federation. You are currently approaching the borders of our territory. Please state your business or vacate the premise. If neither are done lethal force will be authorized. Please do not let it come to that.”
When he finished the nervous lieutenant sat there and waited for a reply or for the ships to move the other way. He really did not want to get into a fight.
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Post by ShadowBroker Wed Aug 24, 2016 5:46 pm

The time Avlex took to answer over the message of the Order, Sura hesitates holding her hands together, "Lord Hunter, there is but silence in th-" the incoming transmission interrupted Sura's comment, she stood there for a brief moment, enough for The Hunter to turn back to her and tilt his head to a side, indicating as if he was paying attention to what she had to say in a humorist way, "Uhm... There is still no visual."

"They require a sign of trust..." he indicates as he turns back to the big screen which was showing the ship itself, "Open our holo-communicator, I shall speak with them and fulfill their request."

The Crew nodded with acceptance when Sura moved towards Hunter and whispered, "Don't turn around but, your father is watching..." she excused herself from her post as she stood ready for the holo-conversation with the ship.

The Hunter almost moves his head slightly to the left as the curiosity to turn around hits him. He does, however, manages to remain under control with his glance returning forward, "I can almost notice his piercing eyes..."

"How do you think the new race is?" Sura asks again, whispering and rambling like a fascinated child. While Hunter tried to remain professional.

"Open channel." he stated, being the only one the ship who knew the common language of the galaxy, he started to talk, "This is Lord Hunter, vassal of House Warden, belonging both to The Order of Su'th. Our mission status remain unidentified to the unknown entities. We are 'wandering' on the near systems awaiting for further instructions." he makes a step forward, "In the name of House Warden, I apologies if our presence is either disturbing or inadequate. We mean no harm as long as the Old Ways are respected."

In the whole holo-com channel, as Hunter spoke loud and clear his speech, Sura started to appreciate the model of the ship his Lord was talking to. Though her ambitious fingers played along behind her as she was waiting eagerly for a true meeting with a sensitive specie.

_______________________________________________

Deep behind them, a cabin behind the bridge as a second command center used to witness other Lords on their training, Thande Warden, the First Warden, contemplates his bastard son, indifferent of his actions with the smallest of kind gesture.

Another form reaches him, crawling from the shadows of the room, "Thoughts?" Thande asked to the incoming entity.

"None." a female voice answers. Clear and unsettling at the same time. Thande noticed that yet made no comment about it, letting her continue, "Only doubts."

"We have mistaken before, have we now?" Thande replies in confidence as he nods in full acceptance of his own statement, "Secrets. Our specie is full of them... one more, one less."

"It can change everything..." She answers back as she withdraws from the window, staring down the Hunter.

Thande turns back in slow motion, not to stop her which was his first idea, but to look at her walking away.
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Post by Randomnator Thu Aug 25, 2016 1:09 am

It didn't take long before one of 17's underlings dragged the Prophet of Molth before him. The creature was an especially pitiful sight, a thin weakling wrapped in a tattered blue cloak that scrabbled to her knees after her cage warden dropped her to the floor. Leaning in from his hastily-made throne of crates, corpses and other random items, 17 went straight to the point.

"You lied. The vault had nothing in it."

The Prophet shifted under her heavy cloak, hooded head tilted in amusement. "The Sight is a fickle thing as always, keheh. Even one as stupid as the Pale King must realise this by now."

17 growled at the Prophet's giggle, fighting the urge to crush her head like a melon. Her extraordinary gift had saved her from burning along with her temple and since then her foresight had pulled the Pale King's fleet out of many disasters. Recently however it had become increasingly difficult to refrain from murdering the annoying little minx, her jabs and taunts becoming more frequent and bold over the years.

While keeping her alive was important, it didn't mean he couldn't rough her up a little for that insult. A light punch to the face sent the Prophet sprawling and 17 immediately felt better, the endorphin rushing through his system from the strike.

Rising from his seat 17 glared at his prisoner. "You're only alive because I will it! Tell me what you know or I'll fix that little problem," he snarled, raising his gauntleted hand again threateningly.

The Prophet's covered head turned back before spitting out a bloody fang. "...The vault is one of many," she smirked. "If the fortress of the enlightened yielded nothing, the sunlit sickle could be where your prize resides...the others lie in clouds unseen." The Prophet chuckled but was cut off midway with a coughing fit.

17 let his hand fall as he felt the rush leave him, neural web slowing down as it shifted from anger to "rationalisation". Slowly he sunk back into the throne, all four of his eyes still trained on his cloaked captive as he mulled over her cryptic words.

"Take her away, I'll think about what she told me," he muttered to the handler, who slung the unresistant psychic over his shoulder and left immediately. The Pale King sat and brooded, left alone to consider the Prophet's words and his next plan of action.
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Post by Whos Thu Sep 01, 2016 7:41 pm

"Hey! Wake up!" An alarmed voice said, "Please wake up. Who are you?"

Vessen pondered that question. Who was he, really? Well, surely, he was Vessen- Vessen who? What did that name mean? In 'Skiavec, his language, it meant something.. but he couldn't remember what; maybe it didn't mean anything at all. Anyways, reality hadn't been very consistent with him lately, so he figured that he was being deceived in some way, as usual.

The deranged kil finally opened his eyes, only to be met with a greasy-faced kil wearing a dirty combat membrane. "Hey, I'm Kastet, I'm.. I'm one of the soldiers here. I was the one who redirected your ship to land here, in this supply junction. Who are you?"

Vessen delayed his response, trying to gather his distorted thoughts. "I'm uh.. Uh.. Vessen. I think."

The soldier's serpentine eyes widened as he remembered, and then exclaimed, "I know you! You're the one we were expecting. You're some kind of patient, right? We were supposed to be here to receive you, get you some help..."

He trailed off; his eyes hardened with regret.

"Are there others?" Vessen asked.

"Not anymore." Kastet replied. "We could still call for help, though. If we could infiltrate the outpost that I came from, we could use the transmitter there to send a message to more Free Absolute forces." The soldier was wary of returning to the besieged hangar, and wondered if there was any chance that the Hithe had vacated it yet.

"Why not just leave?" Vessen asked, and straightened his posture. He was starting to feel more lively.

"There's something here that I can't just leave. We can't let this supply depot fall into the hands of the Hithe, and we can't take all of the tech with us on that shuttle." Kastet said.

"What?" Vessen simply replied. The soldier jogged over to a sealed supply crate, and entered the appropriate passcode on the corresponding holo-screen. The crate's locking mechanism hissed in response, then slowly parted, and the crate opened. What occupied the inside gleamed dully under the artificial lights of the supply depot.

"A combat membrane," the soldier commented, speaking in a slightly reverential tone. "And not just any combat membrane; this one uses experimental nanotechnology, to-"

Kastet was cut off by a blow to the back of his head, rendering him unconscious. Vessen stood over his limp body, gazing intently at the experimental combat membrane.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Things were eerily quiet as the vessel descended into the atmosphere. There were no warning shots, no enemy ships on the horizon - not even a warning on the COM directing them to turn away. Though Reis didn't seem to comprehend what was going on, Rakera and Recet were unnerved by the lack of response to their ship's presence.

"...Is this the right place?" Recet asked this quietly to himself, even he in some sort of disbelief at the sheer quiet. Rakera shook her head, tapping the Xikarian on the shoulder silently. "Possibly, our communications are being jammed," she warned quietly.

"What purpose would that serve?" Reis asked, having overheard her. He looked at her seriously for the first time since they left the Imperial Coalition medical facility, or rather the insane asylum, as he had been preoccupied with feeling sorry for himself. Her features were sharp, and he suddenly became nervous. He looked away.

"I don't know, it's just a speculation. Maybe they think we're in contact with a larger ship, or a fleet of ships." She replied.

"Oh." Reis said, before returning to his seat.

"By the Blue," Recet muttered, aghast. Reis and Rakera both looked in his direction and out the cockpit window, only to see thin atmosphere of the planet shrouded in a thick, black cloud of smoke and soot. "We're not being jammed," Recet sputtered, "They are."
Below them lay the crumbling remnants of what was once a Free Absolute stronghold, and strange alien ships now populated the ruins. If there had been a battle here, it was long over by now.

Recet swore under his breath, and quickly began to pull up, though by now it was far too late. Dyruri III shook violently as it took several hard hits to its side, and the ship was flipped upside-down by the force. Rakera grabbed onto one of the empty seats behind Recet, as the Celik desperately attempted to regain control over his vessel; Reis was flung from his seat by the unexpected jolt, and collided violently with the bulkhead.

The simple ship was in no way designed for a war zone, and so not too long after being hit, it plunged to the surface below. The Dyruri III was going to crash.
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Post by Alimnation Thu Sep 15, 2016 10:47 pm

Seeing that they are using their holo-communicator, Avlex sigh and made the motion to activate his. When it finished the Insectoid Lieutenant stepped in arms crossed behind him. At first glace the most obvious thing you could see on him was his very clunky robotic sleeve that was on his right arm and the eyepiece over his right eye. Other than that he look like your average Xliveien. With a breath he spoke again.

"Well Lord Hunter, I do not wish to start conflict. I simply need to make sure you will not cause harm to me or my patrol. However if you need supplies or trade I can escort you to a nearby planet where I can get you in touch with the Tribunal."

Much of the last part of his speech sounded scripted. As if this was one of the first communications with another race. Meanwhile other members of the crew were whispering. Many wanting to fight them anyways, while others just want to go back to play cards.


Last edited by Alimnation on Sun Sep 18, 2016 1:14 am; edited 1 time in total
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Post by ShadowBroker Fri Sep 16, 2016 11:02 am

The flagship remained in standby while the cruiser, counting around 25 ships at each wing (which there are five different wings on the dreadnought) stored like junk metal.

The crew stood up and stop working as they saw the creature on the screen, however unseen by the Xliveien. Interested on it's bends, of it's form. No need for words, only glares that are shared briefly with each other.

Lord Hunter would nod in acceptance while the rest of the Cithera'nos wouldn't understand the language which the specie speaks, or neither which Lord Hunter does, as he replies, "As the Old Ways command it, I, Lord Hunter, request a meeting with your Council in order to establish our first contact face to face, as it must be. A ship attached to our Flagship will be dispatched, I and my Squire will travel hoping for a great new beginning."

Sura, the squire, who remained in silence behind him, now breaks her silence with a question which can't be understood by them for it's their own language, "He looks like you, doesn't it?" she comments as Hunter doesn't move but acknowledge his attention, "Maybe he believes in the old ways. Not that he knows them but he will accept them."

After her whispering, the Lord would continue, "You are, soldier, our first race known by our people which is sensitive enough to understand our words." he raises his hand and pulls out his sword slightly to show the sharp of the blade, "Once the diplomacy is over, sir, I wish to test your skills in single combat, as it is tradition." his voice sounded calm, serene and deep for his weight and height.

"He means no harm." The squire speaks over Lord Hunter on the common language, "Beg your pardon, sir, our tradition isn't as aggressive as it sounds. Hope you understand he meant a simply sport, not an actually combat to dead..." she stops and looks back at him and changes her language, translating it, "Vara?" ("Right?")

The Lord bows his head slightly, showing his limited filter when it comes to show his interest while the Squire is rather diplomat.

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Post by Alimnation Fri Sep 16, 2016 8:29 pm

"He wants to spar with the Lieutenant?" "What dose he mean by old ways?" These are questions the crew asks as Avlex is speaking with the alien. None can be hear from the other side but it is there. Hearing the request and the questions everywhere Avlex nods.

"Alright then me and two other ships shall escort your ship to the colony planet Ralcath where we will get a local Tribunal member to speak with you. As for the sparring request... I shall accept in the terms that you excuse my rusty fighting."

As Avlex waited for a last confirm the crew of the ship was getting the ship ready for a bit of shore leave. Some of the crew were already making bets on who was going to win the sparring match.


Last edited by Alimnation on Sun Sep 18, 2016 1:13 am; edited 1 time in total (Reason for editing : Messed up with government)
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Post by ShadowBroker Fri Sep 16, 2016 9:29 pm

"Good." says Lord Hunter with little else added as he shelters his blade back on it's sheath crossing his belt. Sura seems rather impress, though impossible to tell by her mask. "I will choose my personal escort and adventure to your planet. However our flagship shall continue wandering upon another direction. We shall meet soon..."

Once Lord Hunter bows his head, the transmission is cut dry and every single member of the crew goes back to work, with the exception of Hunter and Sura that finally share a mutual glance, she dares to say, "Another adventure?" Lord Hunter nods and makes his way to look up in the observation bridge to find his father's presence but only the dark silence of an empty room met him. His gaze fall down slowly until meet the ground in disappointment, "Inir?" she whispers.

"The First Warden has better things to do than witness my own acknowledgements..." he replies to himself if not to her, holding a tight grip on the hilt of his sword, but loose when he meets back Sura's helmet, her arms crossing in front of her chest plate, "We must prepare our personal vessel..."

"I already prepare everything before start the communications." She responds instantly, trying to retake the previous topic, "He will always be a blind-"

"Stop it there..." Lord Hunter mumbles as he rush his hand to reach her arms, making pressure, staring her down with the scar giving her enough distance to watch something green light up inside of his helmet, an eye, maybe his skin, or just the machine inside... "Not another word." the crew almost notice the event but any who did would continue working on their own affairs, like if nothing ever happened, "Await for me in the hangar..." he lets her go and she nods in obedience and walks away.

______________________________________________

Wouldn't take much for a small vessel jump out from the Flagship, a very small ship compare to the dreadnought. It starts to approach to the escort that the Xliveien would prepare, and go with them to the planet.

Ten vanguards would be inside the ship, counting Squire Sura and Lord Hunter.
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Post by Alimnation Sun Sep 18, 2016 1:11 am

Avlex sighed in a bit of relief when the transmission ended. It did not take long for the escort to set itself up and for all of the crew members to get into position. When the Order ship arrives the escort starts to move and head toward the colony of Ralcath. On the way communication is established with the Tribunal.

"Lt. Avlex reporting." After a few moments of silence a voice is heard over the communicator. "General Rodox of the Tribunal. Speak Lieutenant." Avlex took a breath of relief knowing that it was Rodox answering before speaking. "Sir. We have come into contact with another alien race and they have requested a meeting. We are currently in route to Ralcath so they may speak with a member of the Tribunal. Are there any members there now?" "Yes in fact, I am there right now. How long do you think til you reach us?" Avlex look to the screens to determine an ETA before returning to the communicator. "We should be there before the sun rises on Ralcath." "Excellent. Well then if that is all I must return to my work." "Of course sir." Communications end and Avlex sits in his chair and stretches a bit. It is going to be a long day. He thought to himself.
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Post by ShadowBroker Sun Sep 18, 2016 3:24 pm

While the ship continues to follow the escort towards Ralcath. While the crew of soldiers would remain on stand by with a rigid posture, Lord Hunter would sit down on a small chair next to a crate on the cargo hold instead of waiting the arrival on the gate entrance or a Lord's chamber which is on the center. of the ship.

The Lord would take a sword from his arsenal and start to sharpen it with, what looks like a black tip of an arrow-shape and a dagger standard length. The tip of the sword would fall to the ground as he holds it's hilt up. Sitting on his dark spot, he remains thinking.

Although Sura doesn't takes long to break with such silence, approaching as wandering on the dark cargo hold, surrounded by devices, supplies and other things that either shine or bend around the room like endless wires, "What are you thinking about now?" she asks before reaching the crates where his glance seems on loose, "Is about father or the new ones?"

Sura would sit on the crate next to him but he doesn't stop sharping the blade on his hand. A pause, nor long or short, before any word comes out of his mouth, "No matter how many nights we share, Sura, you keep forgetting I don't think much." he quips roughly as it was not part of him.

"Is that true?" Sura replies with a tin piece of mocking if not with wisdom, "I thought a Knight such as yourself gives a thought to every battle. Are you incapable to think further? Or your only interest is the war?" both glance at each other as if the answer well known, settle before the chat begins, "Or when you stood before The Second Warden and the destiny of an entire specie which may never know you were on their behalf?" she makes a quick pause as she sighs on joy, "How can you tell me you don't think about that?"

"-And it costed me my honor and a scar that I can not rid off." He nods before her, "What does our old ways says about honor?" he asks Sura as he leaves the sword aside.

"The duty of the Knights is to fight by what they believe greater for the Void. Knights, such as yourself, do not fight for honor but for their duty." Hunter continues to nod while Sura explains the laws, "It was your duty to stand by them, to stand for them."

"It is not my duty to fight for every living being on injustice with mercy... One must stand for one and only for one, otherwise it dishonors us." Hunter express as he stands up and lines up his gaze with his Squire, "I didn't fight for them."

"That is heartless thing you ever said to me, Inir." She again addresses him with his real name, "You hide your kindness under your cold breath. You defended the weak."

"I defended you." He claims, "Who else would have stood against The Second? Who would have saved you from your own claim?" he takes the sword he was sharping and gives it to her, "I never think, I act..."

The ship would continue to advance, keeping distance between the escorts. But the Flagship, The Fifth, would be gone as it starts to move out of sight.








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Post by Randomnator Sun Sep 25, 2016 6:31 am

"Alright maggots, move out!"

17 herded his minions onward, watching them board the disturbingly tongue-like ramps to the air carriers. The bloated vessels shuddered to life and took off, splitting up and moving off in different directions. Needless to say even if the majority didn't find this "sunlit sickle", they would at least bring back something that caught the group's eye.

Left behind to brood and with nothing better to do, the Pale King decided to watch the sky. Something above caught the warlord's eye, a small angular shape circling overhead that was steadily getting closer.

Just as 17 realised what it was, bright streaks converged on the object as the lookouts he'd stationed out in the mountains did their job. The explosions of the anti-air rounds sent the strange ship on a collision course with the ground, its method of flight destroyed.

Pulling the spiked mace from his belt, the Pale King strode towards the brief column of snow that indicated the vessel's crash site. 17's fingers twitched in anticipation for what would come, whether it be loot or combat.

_____________________________________________________

892 whooped as the vessel fell from the sky, his companion staring blankly in dull indifference. The beast the Hithe was in charge of was aptly dubbed the "Blaster", an organic anti-air gun that stood on four peg-like legs to support the mess of tubing that fed into its dorsal cannon.

"And that's how we send 'em to the ground!" the Hithe jeered, face splitting into a macabre grin. The Blaster simply scanned the sky with its multi-faceted targeting eye, its smaller side-eyes giving its master an expectant look.

"Fine, here ya go." 892 sighed, reaching into the bag on his hip and pulled out a chunk of some kind of meat and tossed it to the Blaster. With uncanny speed for something so sluggish looking, the beast's jaws snapped forward and caught the food before chewing.

892 watched as some of the air carriers turned around, obviously intrigued by the column of snow that erupted when the ship crash-landed. Already sensory spines had slid out from their recesses and bizarre, stony weaponry were unsheathed as the ugly bio-constructs circled the downed ship.
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Post by Luxembourgish Thu Sep 29, 2016 7:58 pm

Recet was the first to wake immediately following the crash.

On shaking legs, he managed to stand on the sloped metallic surface beneath him. A quick survey of the situation revealed several things.
Recet himself was bleeding from the head, but thanks to being fastened in the seat, the damage was minimal. A bandage would fix the problem. Meanwhile, the Ship was flipped completely upside-down, and he was currently standing on what was supposed to be the ceiling. Recet quickly thanked the Gods - the craft hasn't collapsed in on itself. Not yet, at least.

The two Jorro'kil were his primary concern. Rakera was unconscious, her limp body laying on the viewing window of the cockpit, which was cracked on the inside, and partially melted on the outside, creating a barrier through which light could no longer pass. It held strong, though, and it, too, was for the most part intact. The she-kil would have several cuts - some of which may scar - but otherwise, she would be okay. Careful to avoid slipping on the smooth ceiling, the Celik carefully lifted Rakera over his shoulder, despite her being nearly twice his weight. With each step, the ship creaked beneath his feet. This snow wasn't holding the ship's weight well.

Grimly, Recet realized that if he wasn't quick, it might sink further into the snow, and trap them all. The temperature started to drop, and both Recet and Rakera began to exhale fog. If they got out of the ship alive, Recet was certain that they'd freeze to death, if they weren't shot first.
Reis was nowhere to be found in the cockpit, but the door to the cockpit, breached from the inside, yielded a clue as to where he might have gone.

He sped up, climbing through the cockpit door easily. Leaning against the wall adjacent to the door on the other side, of course, was Reis. He, too, was unconscious, but both of his arms were disjointed, and one of his legs was trapped beneath a chunk of the destroyed cockpit door.

"By the Blue, Recet... You should not have listened to him." He spoke these words to himself, carefully setting Rakera to the ground.

He turned his head to an emergency exit on the ground - the ceiling - that was slightly ajar. There seemed to be a cavity underneath the exit that may allow the three to crawl out from underneath the ship to safety. Of course, that would have to wait until Reis and Rakera awoke - there was no way Recet could drag them both out without potentially killing them.

And besides, he feared that he lacked the time.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________

"Wh... where am I?" Recet's attention turned to Rakera as she woke up, shakily trying to stand up. Recet sighed and looked at Reis. "Still on the ship, I'm afraid. It has been flipped."

"I'm sorry... flipped?"

"We have crashed."

"...How?"

Recet cut her off there. "There will - well, may - be time to explain later. Help me fix Reis. You're the medical expert, yes?" Rakera took a second to absorb the information, and then nodded. She knew enough. "Grab his left arm, I'll take care of his right. On three, we will put them back in their sockets." Recet nodded at her instruction and positioned himself on one side of Reis, gripping his dislocated arm firmly. "As for his leg?"

Rakera dismissed the bleeding limb. "Our physiology is very resilient, I can assure you." She, too, gripped Reis' arm. "Ready? One... two..."

"W...Wait..?" Reis suddenly spoke in a drowsy tone, blinking lazily. "What are you t-two...?"

Recet and Rakera nodded at each other, and simultaneously jammed the Kil's arms back into his sockets. For the next several seconds, a scream of pain echoed throughout the fallen ship.
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Post by Randomnator Tue Oct 04, 2016 6:51 am

The Pale King stopped his march towards the crash site as suddenly his hearing on the left side dropped out then picked up again. Unknown to him, One of the many parasites that riddled his skin had crawled out from its hiding place and lodged itself into his internal earhole, its barbed tail worming into the inner workings.

Slapping the side of his head, 17 blinked when voices picked up out of nowhere. While the sounds were tinny and seemed to be coming from directly inside his earhole, it took a while before the Hithe realised what it was.

Oh...comms maggot.

17 brought a hand up and spoke, assuming the feelers of the creature would pick his voice up. "This is Warlord 17, what do you want?"

"Boss, boss! I think we found it!"

17 arched an eyebrow. "Found what?"

"I'm pointing at it!"

"And I can't see where you're pointing, idiot. The comms maggot only streams sound."

There was a brief pause. "Oh...er, there's a mountain with a chunk missing."

"Yes?"

"If you look at it just right, it looks like a curvy sword with the sun just over the top of it."

17's neural web went into overdrive. Did one of his men just make a connection? Without outside help or some extreme coaxing? 17 had always sneered at the concept of miracles with contempt unlike the dumb indifference of his lessers, but what he had just heard flipped everything upside down.

"Hold on. I'm getting there as fast as possible!" Barely containing his excitement, the Warlord smacked his head again, hoping the jolt had rattled the comms maggot enough for it to broadcast on all channels.

"Someone get me a transport over there! The rest of you keep an eye on whatever got shot down and whatever you do, do not eat it until I get back!"
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Post by Whos Fri Oct 07, 2016 4:24 pm

Below the curvaceous mountain crest, atop a snowy slope, stood a lone figure. He was nearly impossible to see given the reflective material he wore, allowing him to blend in with the equally reflective snow, both of which shone brightly in the light of an alien sun.

Large, stony creatures floated against the empty blue, apparently unaware of the kil standing on the slope. They were so close to the icy mountain that one could take a running jump and touch them - which is exactly what Vessen did. Gathering speed and utilizing the power granted to him through his new combat membrane, he anticipated the location of one of the large Hithe transports, whereupon reaching the edge of the slope he leapt towards his target.  An irritated sigh emanated from the strange beast as Vessen grabbed onto one of its rocky appendages, putting the creature slightly off balance.

It took Vessen a few minutes of prying and prodding to see if there were some way of directing the creature. Eventually, he found that there was a strange outcropping of exoskeleton, a ribcage of sorts with seams running through it.  Vessen unsheathed an energy bayonet from a hidden compartment in his armor, and began to cut his way through the exoskeleton.  After getting past the entrance "hatch," he found a group of Hithe pilots inside the skyfish. Using his energy bayonet, he cut his way through them, too.  Now, with a slightly more colorful combat membrane, he set about trying to pilot the strange skyfish. Much to his frustration, the mentally deranged kil found that the controls were completely alien to him; a mass of tentacles and organic tubing stood in his way of understanding.                                                                                

Disgusted, Vessen kicked at the fleshy innards of the skyfish, then paused at the resultant sound; a muffled rattle, followed by a dull shriek. Quickly, he headed to the back of the "cabin" and exited through the ribcage hatch.

The appendages Vessen had grabbed onto earlier were actually projectile cannons of some sort, and they had just fired - directly at another skyfish. The other creature, now damaged, was rapidly losing altitude, which delighted the kil. Perhaps this attack would get the Hithes' attention, and perhaps they would bring more useful vessels for him to steal.


Last edited by Whos on Tue Oct 11, 2016 4:47 pm; edited 7 times in total
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Post by Alimnation Tue Oct 11, 2016 12:04 am

As the ships approach Ralcath the first thing that can be seen of the planets surface are the many craters from orbital bombardments made during the war. General Rodox radio ahead giving permission to land on arrival. As the pilots coordinated with the control Lt. Avlex contacted the Lord Hunter with a transmission. "We have arrived at Ralcath. Our flight control will be contacting you soon with directions on where to land. Please be careful because there are a few asteroids littered around." The Lt. ends the transmission as the ship begins its decent down to the planet. He walks up to the window and watches the scenery come into view of the war torn planet.
____________________________________________________

Meanwhile General Rodox approaches the space port with a small platoon to meet the Aliens. He directs several soldiers to make quick patrols around the area for safety and stations others in key locations just in case of a terrorist attack. He knew that while the chances were low it was still possible for one of the terrorist groups caught wind of what was happening and were planning an attack right this moment.
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