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]

*Sighs explosively*
Alright, after an untold amount of weeks, this particular update has been completed. Let me thank Minque for helping to cure my ignorance about many things that I needed to know before involving House Redoran and for simply giving me something to work with rather than a relatively blank tablet.
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It had been after several minutes that the council doors opened at last. Xaries had not actually met any of the Redoran Council before now, neither had the Matriarch, but he had agreed to allow her voice their views, being that she was more familiar with their customs and beliefs.

As they entered, Xaries glanced over the council members. Most were rather young, for a race which could live half as long some Naryyn did. He reserved his judgment for now and stood silently by the Matriarch’s side as the meeting began.
The Archmaster, to Xaries’ surprise, was a human woman. Without looking like he was staring, he studied her face, hanging for a moment on her thoughtful, violet eyes. Xaries could see that this woman had experienced many hardships in the past; he concluded that most of her followers must look to her as a wise and compassionate mother-figure, of sorts.

As they approached the central platform, another figure caught his attention. The eldest councilor, possibly older than Xaries, sat to the immediate right of the Archmaster. The mer gazed back at him impassively; despite his age, he still had the resolve of a much younger man, an old warrior.

They took their place before the council, in the center of the circular platform. All of the council, young and old, stood as one. Archmaster addressed them, sincerely. “House Redoran greets you, Naryyn”
The pair bowed in unison; when they rose the Matriarch replied, “The Marhun Kar, along with the forces of Lord Arastus and Commander Xaries are grateful for Redoran’s patience and co-operation during this struggle.”

The Archmaster nodded, along with the mer to her right, some of the younger members seemed to find the Matriarch’s reply hard to swallow; a slight sigh here, a single clenched fist there, and an averted glance in between. Who can blame them? We’ve taken over their cities to make them more defensible. Xaries thought to himself.

“From what your envoys have told us,” The Archmaster said finally, breaking the silence. “The forces in the Cyrodiil are not allied with those under your leadership.”
Xaries nodded, with practiced calm. “That is correct, Archmaster, the forces that the Patriarchs sent do not have the exact same aims as we do, but those aims do not clash with ours, yet.”

Every councilmember, the Archmaster included, was obviously unsatisfied with the “yet.” One of the youngest gave derisive snort as if to mutter “well, that’s very reassuring.” He earned a glare from the other young man beside him.
The oldest of the council cleared his throat and asked. “Could you elaborate on how the objectives of these others are different from your own, Commander?”

Taking a deep breath, Xaries replied. “They’re primary objectives are focused toward eliminating the force held up in Skyrim at whatever cost is required. Your people and the others of this world are not on their mandate, to protect or destroy.” He looked into the eyes of every councilor from let to right, “However, secondary goals for them will include wiping out the Matriarch and her people.”

The commander outlined briefly the Great War; both told what happened to their respective side after the conflict’s end. Then Xaries again took center point in describing what had taken place in the recent months, from the persecution of the Iso Naryyn to the defection of himself and the forces who decided to join him.

With the exception of two members, the council listened intently as both Naryyn recounted history ancient and recent. The Archmaster nodded, along with most of the Redoran gathered, they all understood their position in this multi-generation spanning conflict.

Do they truly? Xaries wondered It’s unlikely that any war fought on this land lasted more than a century, well within one generation.....

Suddenly, the doors to the chamber were not-so-delicately opened, a private in semi-powered armor stood in the doorway. Snapping a hasty salute, and casting the numerous Redoran guards a quick glance, he said. “Sorry to disturb you sir, but coastal just picked up a small force of unidentified warships on approach over the Inner Sea.”

He sighed; clenching one fist, Xaries turned back to the councilors. “This meeting must be postponed for now, pressing matters have arose which I must attend to immediately.”
“Our forces will do all that is necessary to defend Ald’Ruhn and your people, Archmaster.” The Commander promised before he turned and sprinted after the messenger.

The Matriarch watched but did not leave. Addressing the council, she said calmy. “While the Commander is needed to lead his troops, I am not a military leader, so we may continue without him.”

2nd Lt. Tyson, Inner Sea

For one of the first times in his life, Sam thought he was completely and royally screwed. It had started out with six of those unidentified fighters chipping away at his mk-15's tail, he'd temporarily given up running and turned the chase into a dogfight.

The UAF --Unidentified Airborne Force-- had the advantage of numbers, but their aircraft couldn't compete with the eel-tee's interceptor in maneuverability. They only succeeded in scoring glancing blows, even then they must have fired thousands of roiunds at him.
Finally, the Lt. managed to get them into a vertical climb. One of the fighters wasn't clever enough to pull out and ended up with the interceptor on its six. At this point, Sam made a discovey, his pulse cannons didn't cause any damage to these things.

In seconds he tried the Lightning Strikes, and was relieved when the giant flying crescent plunged toward the surf below. Now the remaining fighters were behind him again, but now that he'd shot one down, Lt, Tyson decided he didn't really want to fight all of them.
Feeding more fuel to the scramjets, the Swift rocketed ahead of its pursuers. But things weren't over yet, not a chance. Breaking through the lower cloud cover, Sam found out just where these fighters were launching from.

A small attack group of ships which matched the profile of the fighters was heading dead East, which was to say on his nine o'clock moving directly toward his tiny mk-15. And then a quartet of fighters appeared on Sam's two o'clock, before the Lt. could begin to evade, the attackers opened up.
These weren't near-misses, Tyson heard about eight different alarms and just as many warning lights on his HUD.

This is what lead up to his immediate situation, the centermost of the three scramjets which propelled the mk-15 was hit, now the fuel which normally burned a it passed through it was instead being ejected into the air.
There were also the problems of having about two dozen and a half holes in his interceptor's fuselage, the hydraulics which controlled wing-positions, and now not five but nine fighters on his tail. Hell in the skies, he thought as the enemy came upon him.

Now suddenly unable to maintain its great speed, the interceptor was quickly over taken by the Plys'Iea fighters. Sam heard nothing other than the howling winds and felt countless explosions slam into his fighter's armor.
His eyes tightly shut, the Lieutenant reached for the switch that would possibly save his life. Sam Tyson didn't here the tiny click, but suddenly he was launched out of the dying mk-15 at fifteen feet per second.

Only as his rapid asenscion came to an end did the eel-tee dare to open his eyes. The unidentifieds chased the dying bird until a few seconds before it exploded. Now that his upward momentum was non-existant, Sam started to plummet down to Nirm's surface......