Revan Part II- Cont., the storm on Nirm has.... Options

[Lord Revan]

The Archives have been updated, just some info on psychic focus and magnitude (explaination of psychic powers).
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He stopped to evaluate the progress of his craftsmanship. Revan had completed his helmet, the cuirass, pauldrons, and gauntlets of his new armor in this short time.

The helmet remained largely unchanged, its visor covered slightly less area though, but Revan was confident he could fight just as well with narrowed vision.
His cuirass was thicker all around than his former one. The parts of his torso that needed to move without restraint were protected by overlapping segments of a refined sapphire-like substance. A chunk of cobalt focusing crystal lay above where the wearer’s sternum would be.

The pauldrons resembled those of Dunmer chitin. Two small crystal fragments were embedded in identical slots that Revan had carved into them.
Another pass-over from his old armor was the gauntlet design, with a few exceptions. Like the pauldrons, both gauntlets had common focusing crystals integrated. Revan had lost his energy blades in the explosion; he hoped learn from that lesson and utilize the High Naryyn technique. I am half High Naryyn after all… He thought dryly.

The completed pieces lay neatly arranged on the floor beside him. Now that he’d stopped, Revan realized that he had not eaten in..... quite awhile.
“So, this is where you’ve been.” Rhys said as she sat down next to him.

Revan set down the yet-to-be-finished greaves. “I apologize for leaving you in bed, but I needed to do something constructive and you needed the rest.”

She glared at him theatrically, “And you don’t?” Striking him playfully in the chest, Rhys teased. “Who’s braver? The people in fancy armor or those that fight without it?”

“Don’t tempt me to prove you wrong, Rhys.” Revan replied with a smile on his face. “Or you might just run out of luck.”

Her own face adorned by the same expression. “You couldn’t touch me, let alone beat me in a fight.”
“Is that a challenge?” He asked as he stood up. “Because, I’ll take you up on that..... after I get something to eat.”

Rhys got up as well, “I won’t go easy on you just because you happen to be my friend, Ahtre’Mehrah.”

Rhys....

The Hvy. Destroyer Emphatic Judgment sat just outside the borders of Sadrith Mora. The capital-class ship dwarfed the Telvaani town beside it.

Rhys’ eyes wandered a bit, having only been to House Telvaani’s domain briefly before now, their distinct traits were still new to her.
Revan paid more attention to the sky and its occupants. Several frigates, destroyers and High Naryyn missile frigates patrolled the nearby airspace.

A small squad of interceptors was visible, swooping low over the sea in close formation. “Since you seem to know this place better, perhaps you should lead."
"Fair enough, though I believe non-Telvaani still require Hospitality Papers..."

"We're just two exceptions, that along with a couple dozen more won't drive some Telvaani lord nuts." She joked lightly.
"Believe me, some Telvaani are nuts to begin with. But that doesn't make them less interesting." Revan said in a tone that told he knew all too well.

The two noticed a gathering of Virtarak around a certain localation: the Sadrith Mora Slave Market. While being some distance from the gathering, Rhys could feel the mood. She promptly closed herself from the powerful emotions.

Revan extended his mental probe, taking in every element of the scene. "This isn't good." He muttured, before marching toward the spectacle.
Rhys followed, knowing what her companion meant. The Virtarak crowd was not armed, which was good, but they were displaying their views on the trade of "inferior races." The mob would advance, leap back in unison, and then advance further, all the while hissing threatening at the Telvaani guards.

As Revan approached the flock from behind, several broke off rapidly to scoop up their discarded weapons. Seeing this, he lashed out, causing said weapons to launch into the air. The Virtarak skidded to a halt, mid-sprint, making ready to leap after the flying rifles.

Rhys didn't want this to become violent anymore than Revan did. She projected her thoughts to the avian aliens. "Fighting isn't going to do any good; it will only give us more enemies when we need only one!"

The mob came to an abrupt halt in their cycle, their heads scanned the area for the speaker. When they noticed the two of them, one thought became very apparent. "This can not continue, but for now we shall stand down in our defense, Naryyn."

All Virtarak cleared out, leaving the only occupants as the Telvaani guards and the two Naryyn. The former appeared to be confused as to the sudden withdrawl. As Rhys and Revan walked past them to Wolverine Hall, Revan said to one of the guards. "A word of warning: don't be around here for the next few weeks; if you want not to be the target of the Virtaraks' fury."

The guards said nothing, so both moved on. "Do you think the Virtarak really will resort to violence?"
"Anything is possible," he replied. "We can only read the scroll, not rewrite it."

Both were silent until, Rhys muttured. "Some scuttle and saltrice would be really good right now."
Revan nodded, "Same here. Hopefully, there will be a buffet and no pay required..... otherwise we could just make some food go missing."

[Lord Revan]

Over time the sick feeling subsided, and the lieutenant rose shakily to his feet. Thane strode through corridor after corridor, after ten minutes of getting nowhere in a hurry, he stopped.

Looking up and down the hallway, Kyle muttered. “Would it kill anyone to have a map of this ship?” As if summoned by his dry comment, a soldier in semi-powered armor came into view.

“Hey, do you have any idea where the hanger bay is on this tub?” He asked. The soldier thought for a moment, then pointed to the hallway beside them.

“Take the third left, and keep following the hall.” Thane turned quickly without thanking the soldier. “You’re welcome,” The private muttered at the retreating form of the legionnaire.

Charging down the path he’d been put on, Lt. Thane found himself inside one of the Emphatic Judgment’s twin hanger bays. At a less brisk pace, he scanned the area.
Dozens of what he assumed were Iso Naryyn techs scooted about looking over the weird looking fighters in the queue. Even more odd aliens moved in swarms from hallway to hallway.

As the squat aliens disappeared, Thane let them slip from his mind. He caught the familiar gleam of burnished gold, and ran up to the inert legionnaire armor.
Climbing up near the cockpit, Thane gave the suit a solid thumb when he saw the blank tally, it was unclaimed. Perfect, I’ll just help myself...

Kyle swiveled the keyboard and rapidly typed his service number on it. The electronics beeped and the tally displayed his ID. “Good boy,” he said approvingly, patting the armor before jumping back down to the deck.

Placing his new suit’s headset on his head, Thane popped in a small chip into the data port and the earphones began emitting the Naval Anthem.
Smiling to himself, the lieutenant made his way down the loading ramp and took his first step on Sadrith Mora. As the patriotic hymn wound to a close, the audio shifted to a more satisfying thumping beat.

Nodding slightly in sync with the pounding tones, Lt. 3rd Class Kyle Thane, marched down the road to the town. He whistled at the sight of the Telvaani mushroom houses.
Man, if this war gets any stranger, command better give me a raise..... Double, wait, no triple my current pay. Yeah, that should about compensate me for all this madness.

He glanced around at the guards and street vendors, ignoring the averted gazes from many of the latter. Maybe this place isn’t so horrible..... Thane thought, as he watched a couple of Altmer women walk past.

Spotting a vendor with some of what the lieutenant hoped was food, Kyle approached the salesman. “I’ll have a couple of those,” He said, indicating a clutch of large eggs.

Even if he had understood what the elf had said, Thane instantly found talking to Dunmer men a headache. Their raspy voices were hard to listen to.
The lieutenant finally had enough after the Dunmer had spoken the first eight words, he shook his head and gave the universal “never mind” gesture.

Walking away, Lt. Thane sighed. “That didn’t go well.” Following the road away from the town, Thane was beginning to think his only option for getting food was getting it from the Emphatic Judgment.
The High Naryyn didn’t know what his counterparts ate, but he supposed there weren’t any alternatives he could take. Kyle glanced around to notice two Iso Naryyn exit what looked like a fort.

They had a large bag which at least smelled like proper food. Thane approached them, “Excuse me, erm, would you two have enough food for three?”

The woman nodded, "Certainly, brother." She held out her hand to shake.
Kyle shook her hand, "Lieutenant Third Class, Kyle Thane, but Thane is just fine."

"My name is Rhys." The Lt. made a note to remember her, she was one of the best looking women he'd seen before.
"Revan," The man said when they shook hands. While they talked and ate, Thane learned that these two had been the ones who had helped him, and that Rhys had been the sharpshooter.

<<Inner Sea, 2nd Lieutenant Sam Tyson>>

"....Vulture 5 here, no activity. Heading back to base. This Vulture Leader, Vultures 1 through 5 and 7 have finished their patrols, Vulture 6 and 8 continue your sweeps then recall." Sam rolled his interceptor over to catch a glimpse of his squad's leader flying back to roost.

"Aye, sir, moving on." Righting his aircraft again, the Lt. flicked his mike to mute. He sighed and reclined in his seat, safe and secure in his Swift's cockpit. Twenty years and flight hasn't lost its charm.

He smiled, a year in training and he'd finally been allowed to sit in the cockpit of his very own Mk-15. Sam had always admired the machines he would eventually pilot. The second lieutenant loved the exhileration of flight, feeling of speed and power was seductive.
If he could, Sam would have slept in his aircraft. Lt. Tyson found the skys of Nirm beautiful, he watched the clouds as the went by.

His relaxing ended as he coaxed himself back to his work. Vulture squad was one of three squadrons of mk-15 "Swift" Interceptors which had sided with Commander Xaries. The three squads were assigned with patrolling the border between the island of Vvardenfell and the Western section of Morrowind.

Leaning forward over his controls, the Lieutenant banked his Swift to put it on a southern heading. Without warning, something shrieked in his headset's earphones. The unit worked so smoothly that it sounded as if the owner of the noise was right beside him.
Radar painted an unidentified object approaching from his six o'clock at around 675 nauts. "What in the name of..."

Keying the proper instruments, a 3D wireframe of the bandit appeared on a small screen. Sam could clearly make out the guns on it. The aircraft opened up with its DEWs, but the Lieutenant was already evading.
Turning his mike back on he yelled, "You want to play tag, huh? Well, I won't hold back." Putting his interceptor into a steep dive toward the Inner Sea, Sam keyed the command channel. "Command, this is Vulture 6, I'm under fire with an unidentified aircraft, do you read me?"

Only static replied and the second Lieutenant swore under his breath. The gaint crescent-shaped fighter was hot on his tail, now firing some chin-mounted minigun. Sam knew he had speed on his side, but he was reading more unidentifieds moving in.
Abruptly, he pulled out of the dive at 3,000 feet, his pursuer attempted to follow his sudden vertical climb. With the short time he'd won himself, Sam switched channels to Vulture 8's frequency and was about to hail his wingmate.

But there was silence on the channel, not static, not the lack of chatter, but the quiet when no one was on the other line. Five more bandits dived down from above, plunging upon their isolated prey. This is bad.... Thrusters screamed as the single Swift made a five gee turn and swung Northward.