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

[mplantinga]

This story continues to be both interesting and unusual. I will admit I often have a hard time keeping the individual storylines separate in my mind, but when I can figure it out I do enjoy it. I am definitely interested in seeing how everything works out.

[redsrock]

Great job Revan. I was just looking over some of the stories on this site since I'm new and everything, and yours definitly stood out. There were simple grammer mistakes here and there of course, but that's nothing to worry about, everyone makes them now and then. I love the way you tell the story. Your dialogue is both fresh and entertaining. I can't wait for more...

This post has been edited by redsrock: Oct 11 2007, 01:09 AM

[jack cloudy]

I didn't notice anything about the names, other than the silly nonsense I mentioned in the coffeeshop.

I liked the extra information on psionocist training. Wow, it's harsh stuff.

[Lord Revan]

Lord Arastus

Aboard the Infinite Sojourn, the ancient Naryyn who commanded its crew lowered his command platform. As it leveled with the floor, he strode purposely strode to the psychic resonator on the bridge.

After listening to the resonator for some time, Arastus had made his decision. Focusing on the resonator, the Yutak-Norak Lord broadcasted his verdict.
Telepathic “speech” on this scale was not accurate, when so many minds were touched it was neither words, nor any form of language-based message sent out.

Through the network of ship-based resonators, Arastus could feel the thousands of his people, not vividly, but as only could be described as the churning depths of an ocean.
In eastern Vvardenfell, Iso Naryyn, who had not already done so, returned to their vessels. Warships like the Emphatic Judgment lifted off and headed west, to regroup with the rest of the armada over the Bitter Coast.

Lord Arastus withdrew from the psychic resonator, from the conglomerate Iso Naryyn group mind, back to himself, to the Infinite Sojourn.
The sensation of being a part of the grand consciousness as unyielding and immense as the largest ocean was unparallel. While those unfortunate enough to never experience it found the prospect uncomfortably alien, it was the most pure thing in all existance.

Arastus dispelled his revelry and returned his focus to the present. This war must come to a swift end, for our people and the sentients of this pristine world.
With the vessel at station-keeping, most of the bridge crew were away from their stations, either taking the time to rest or speak with one another.

As his forces gathered around the coast, Arastus returned to his command platform. The long-range holographic communications array was the only way of communicating with the half-kin short of direct speech.
The lord reflected on how divided the Naryyn had become, while their diversity was possibly a blessing, their different paths of growth proved problematic to co-operating.

Arastus stood on the device’s circular pedestal, and the array hummed as it warmed up. A lightning-blue light winked on to show a connection had been established, but Arastus was forced to wait a full three minutes before the projector opposite of him came to life.
Facing him was the young High Naryyn Flt. Commander Xaries; Arastus noted that his counterpart seemed weary. “Commander, my kin are nearly ready to begin pushing forward to Eastern Skyrim. How are yours faring?”

Xaries replied, his voice confirming the drain Arastus had suspected. “We managed to push back the Plys’Iea attack force, at first it couldn’t have been described as a serious effort..... until our recon patrols spotted the wreckage of several Plys’Iea vessels on the Inner Sea.”
“We can gather that Admiral Satith decided to hit them in the flanks while they had their sights on us.” Arastus could make out the sighs of exhaustion on Xaries.

“Commander, it will be in your best interest to rest.” The Iso Naryyn Lord advised, adding a telepathic “Now.”

Xaries straightened, his fatigue gone for the moment. “We might have pushed back the Plys’Iea, but I refuse to rest so soon after an incursion of that magnitude.”
Partly, Arastus admired the younger leader’s audacity, despite how close he was to collapsing from being overworked. He said in a firm and commanding tone. “Fleet Commander Xaries of the Imperial Navy, as a Lord of the Yutak-Norak and representative of the Iso Naryyn Matriarchs, I am ordering you to rest so you and your troops will be ready to move forward when the time comes!”

The High Naryyn stood for a moment before bowing his head, as much to illustrate his resignation and to hide the fact that all of his exhaustion was showing again.
“Very well, my lord Arastus.” With that the holographic array shutdown, and Arastus stepped off of his respective panel. He sighed wearily, he’d given up defending Vvardenfell, now the combined fleet would wait two days to prepare, and then they would all push westward, to Skyrim, to the Plys’Iea, hopefully end this before more lives could be claimed by the struggle.

From what Arastus had heard of the Imperial Admiral Satith, the aggressive move against the enemy would provoke a similar push from the High Naryyn forces.
Not true co-operation, but it’s a step in the right direction from merciless genocide and xenophobia. The Lord mused, once again approaching the psychic resonator.

Revan

Navigating the dark (by non-Iso Naryyn standards) labyrinth of corridors with purpose, Revan felt the rising anticipation of his brethren aboard the Emphatic Judgment and the other vessels nearby, as well as his own.

Silently, Rhys remained by his side, despite his jaunty pace. “You’re all looking forward to this,” She muttered dryly.
“Don’t talk like you aren’t either, Rhys.” Revan replied, giving her an amused look.

“Are you deluding yourself by thinking the ship’s Rook will appreciate two shadows being present on the bridge?” Rhys asked rhetorically.

He slowed down slightly, “Frankly, we don’t have a rank, but you have a point, but we can be considered as Shades and then we’re about even with the Rook.”
“You’re starting to sound like Kyle; I’m not sure if I should be disturbed or hopelessly charmed.”

“Maybe,” Revan said quietly, realizing that he was thinking like Thane. He stopped, “I suppose a bit of him rubbed off on me, I’ll have to be more aware of that.”
Rhys replied slyly, her crimson eyes shining, “Good, because if you did turn into the lieutenant, I’d have to consider marking you as a bitter loss, Revan. But you still have enough sense not to be a hopeless pig, that’s good enough, I guess.”

A full smile spread across his face, “Lucky me.”
Rhys’ smile mirrored his own, “You’d better believe it.” She took a step back and turned to walk back the way they’d come. “Let’s meet back with Darhun’s family in an hour, I’ve got things I’d like to do in the meantime.”

As he, too, went his own way, back to the armory to finish his armor, Revan wondered where he’d be if he hadn’t met Rhys under Dagoth Ur, among the Corprus monsters and lava.

Pell's Gate

In spite of the bloodshed and hatred and fear of many on this world, there were places that were too isolated to truly stay up-to-date on the happenings of all of Tamriel.

While the village of Pell’s Gate, behind the defensive buffer zone of the High Naryyn Imperial Navy, knew of the war, they knew not the horrors that were experienced by those caught unawares by the Plys’Iea.
To them, the faster the war was over the better, but they were also confident that the alien force that was defending them from one of the others could hold their thin stretch of territory.

No, never did they even think that the war could touch them...... If only they’d know that it wouldn’t lash out as a mammoth alien warship, or battalion of alien marines or pillagers.

Schlera Sestius set down her mug for a final time; she failed to suppress a yawn. “We all knew we were in for hard times, but this new war is absolutely not in the same league as the Oblivion Crisis.”

Candice Corgine yawned as well, taking Schlera’s mug and wiping it off. “You have a point, why these aliens or whatever they are had to choose Nirm to have their war in is beyond me. They could give the Deadra a time they’ll never forget in their bloody divine existance.”

The Imperial hunter shook her head, “I have to get up next morning to go hunting, and we can get back to this later, after our beauty-sleep.” With that, Schlera turned and walked back to her cabin.

Candice nodded mutely, setting the mugs up on their shelf. Maybe I should have a little ale myself, just to help get some sle-

She stopped when she heard this low growling somewhere upstairs. “I should probably let the dog out, it’s so high- main-“

Then an answering growl began, deeper, colder than that of the large dog the publican kept. Candice slowly scaled the stairs to the private room she kept that stray that had shown up on her tavern’s doorstep a couple of months ago.
Suddenly, when she was halfway up the stairs, the growling stopped. Corgine rushed the remaining distance and threw open the door.

Her hand went to her mouth; Lily was lying on the floor facing her. But the dog didn’t raise her head to stare at her new master, nor did she pant, or her tongue flop out of her mouth.
Lily was lifelessly still, her eyes completely absent of light. “By the Nine Divines!” Something shoved her into the room, and slammed the door behind her.

Candice had heard nothing come up behind her, and the panic of being locked in a room combined with the shock of Lily suddenly dying made her hysterical.
The woman beat on the door for twenty minutes, sobbing uncontrollably, her mind so clouded that she couldn’t form any thoughts other than the animal instinct to escape to the comfort of the others.

Then she was knocked back, and the door slid open. Candice stared at the empty space, and then at the monstrous being that appeared there.
Candice Corgine, publican of the Sleeping Mare, villager of Pell’s Gate, died, weeping beside her dead dog.

Zarauhn

As daylight appeared on the horizon, the psionist opened his eyes for the first time that night. Several large shapes approached the village from the nearby Aylied Ruin of Vindesel. Zarauhn dropped down from the roof of the Sleeping Mare. His fellow Plys'Iea gazed up at the former villagers of this place, hung from a simple rope from either their wrists or ankles.

The corpses were all stripped of clothing and much of their flesh, a table from the inn had the publican's dog on a platter. His brothers and sisters nodded in recognition, the psionist felt fullfilled. While cloaked in invisibility, he'd slaughtered the villagers with either his claws and fangs or his new abilities.
As his brethren gorged themselves on the meal laid out before them, he approached the kneeling form of the High Naryyn, Kartah. Anyone who looked upon the sergeant could recognize that she had been detained in unfavorable conditions.

Zarauhn had to confess, he'd rather enjoyed his experience with the female marine. Over the past few days, he'd delved into her psyche and her body. Not only could he match a High Naryyn psionist, but Kartah's experiences with the two Iso Naryyn, Revan and Rhys, allowed him to learn some common Iso Naryyn traits as well.
This fact distinguished him from the other Ply'Iea psionists, he had been able to walk past the publican and kill every other villager without them being aware of his presense until it was too late for them. Only the dog, whose sense of smell, not sight, had allowed it to detect him, but it had been the first to die.

He waited for a moment, towering over Kartah, but the Naryyn did not attempt to rise or lash out at him. Finally, he lifted her up himself, telekinetically. The sergeant looked up enough to stare into his eyes, for she was levitated to eye-level.
Perhaps the sergeant was going to spit in his face, or resist him in some way, but before Zarauhn could find out, she lapsed into onconsciousness. As Kartah went out, he lost interest in her, and simply allowed her body to crumple to the dirt.

Ignoring her, ingnoring his kin and the village behind him, he let loose a shriek of challenge at the world, his mind carrying the message farther than he could project his voice. When he was finished, Zarauhn thought to himself. Now my time has come, we will return to the battle group, and confront the loathsome Naryyn for this planet, and then...... This place and all upon its surface shall be undone.

[jack cloudy]

It looks like both sides are preparing to make their move.

I liked the little joke between Revan and Rhys. It shows how close they are.

[mplantinga]

I'm a little worried about what it might mean that the Ply'Iea psionist has learned some new tricks. I do hope the others can handle it.

[Lord Revan]

“Master Norik!” The envoy stirred and opened his eyes, realizing he’d fallen asleep. Hastily, he composed himself, replacing his seal of office and making sure his crimson clothes of rank were in presentable condition.

Dismissing the lingering exhaustion, Norik opened the entrance to his quarters, a young non-combatant in and upper-class suit stood in the hallway.
He nodded to Liara Brant, one of the five news personnel in the fleet. As an embedded reporter, Liara spent most of her time safe within the heart of a powerful warship like the Dominance.

Liara’s features were mostly plain; she was petite by Naryyn standards, by generic humanoid scale, the journalist was average height.
Like her five fellow newsman and women, she was escorted about by a low-ranking MP. The aforementioned officer faced away from them, decked out in light security armor and armed with a low-energy firearm.

The journalist wiped a loose strand of cyan colored hair back past her ear. “Sorry to bother you, sir, but some things have come u-“
Commander Ankrus said through the intercom. “Envoy, you need get to the bridge ASAP.”

Liara crossed her arms and muttered, “I tell him I’ll get you and as soon as I get to you, he tells you himself. Makes ordering me around seem pointless to any sane individual.”

Norik didn’t respond to the journalist’s monologue, and ignored the frustrated continuation as they made their way to the bridge.

--------

When they arrived on the bridge, Ankrus was hunched over the main holo-projector. The commander did not acknowledge their presence until Norik took a position to his left in order to study the display.
“We just received this intel from the Armet’s AI, that free-roaming copy to be precise.” Ankrus explained, not taking his eyes of the image to regard the envoy or Liara Brant.

A holographic Plys’Iea gunship and starfighter hung closest, statistics and some cut-away images of their weapons. Then, behind them, there were Plys’Iea warships, battle cruisers, destroyers, and long list of attached files.
Beneath the fighters, a unique mobile armor walked, galloped, and crawled across an imaginary landscape.

Before Norik could say anything, Ankrus said. “There is more than that intelligence.” The commander gestured to the junior officer nearby and the holograms changed, showing Iso Naryyn vessels.
“The AI was able to bridge the gap between Xaries’ fleet and our own combat net. We don’t have any information on the warships and fighters themselves, by design or mistake, no one in the combined fleet has logged any relevant data on the Iso Naryyn.”

Ankrus continued, “From the fleet’s recent movements, we can assume their preparing for an offensive; the Plys’Iea are the most obvious target, but we can’t put it past them to try and hit us if we don’t stay sharp.”

Ms. Brant chimed in at this point. “When was the last attempt to communicate with the combined fleet? Back when the Ascendant and three warships appeared to offer assistance, since then?”

Norik already knew the answer, so did Liara, but the newswoman asked anyway. Commander Ankrus clearly understood the rhetorical nature of the question. “Not until now, the admiral has decided to send a passive message to Commander Xaries, and by extension, the Iso Naryyn leader, Lord Arastus.”

“The message shouldn’t be hard to miss, all they need to do is send a reply and we’ll know they’re willing to speak with us. Although, what the Admiral put in the message is unknown, to all of us.” The last sentence left Norik skeptical, but he didn’t raise his concern.

“Ma’am, you have enough to make a report, you’re free to leave.” Ankrus said, Liara glared indignantly at the commander, resenting the obvious dismissal.
As the journalist and her escort left, Norik followed Ankrus silently to the reasonably unoccupied fore of the Dominance’s bridge.

“Envoy,” the commander began, stopping to look out the view port and the fleet around them. He crossed his arms, not regarding Norik.
“I won’t lie by saying this will be a decisive war. The council sent orders to the admiral and him to us.” The leader’s young age became apparent at that moment.

“Enlighten me, Commander.” Norik pressed after a bout of silence on part of Ankrus.
He sighed, “We’ve been ordered to expel the Plys’Iea from this world, as we’ve been doing for the last few of months. But.....”

Ankrus seemed uncertain again as to proceed; then he continued. “We’re to recover all samples of Iso Naryyn, Plys’Iea, and the avian race’s technology and assets.”
Norik didn’t need the commander to draw a picture; this meant that any victory on this world would ultimately buy time for some elaborate scheme by the Patriarchs.

Then, telepathically, he added. “We don’t know what the Patriarchs are planning, but we can trust that it will be for our own good.”
“More than likely the plan will screw over a few of us, too.” Ankrus spat in response.

The envoy did not reply, Ankrus wouldn’t ever move against the Patriarchs, he was just voicing one truth about the Patriarchs. Any price that preserved the greater whole was an acceptable sum.

Finally, Norik said. “I want to speak to my son before this is over....” The estranged father then dropped the subject like a spent tool, moving on to discuss the new intel and muse predictions as to the course of this conflict.

Talament Station, near Tracâdus II, 12:49

Of the three current Patriarchs, Valance was the most intertwined in military affairs. Patriarch Wahn was more embroiled in politics and domestic affairs, and Salem, the least ambitious and influential, handled relations with the various loyalist races.

Valance stepped down onto the observation deck of the renowned Talament Station. Tracâdus II, his patron world was the primary source for armaments for the marines, and the twenty shipyards in its orbit were the backbone of the High Naryyn Navy.
As Tracâdus II was a producer of naval vessels and marine weaponry, Talament was the heart and nerve center to the whole Imperial Armada.

Outside in the void, twelve capital ships waited to be sent out into the interstellar fray. Two destroyers, five carriers, and six frigates, all prepping to join the fight on Nirm.
Suddenly a flash of light winking beyond the gathered ships. Thirty new vessels now resided in the space around Talament. It was impossible to mistake the newcomers with the High Naryyn battlegroup.

The vessel in the center of the formation was equal in tonnage to a Hvy. Cruiser, and even larger. Valance allowed for a slight grin to cross his face, as all of the workers around him turned to stare in wonder.

Five minutes passed and then a single Shai’Phayl exothermic drone entered through one of the lower airlocks. It then came up to the observation deck via the main service elevator.
Valance calmly approached the alien warrior while the various non-combatants gave it a wide berth. The Patriarch gazed appreciatively at the creature.

Its exoskeletal form was akin to a Terran crustation, no head, and overlapping plates of chitinous armor. The drone was easily 5.5 meters in length, and as wide as 885th legionnaire armor.
As there was gravity with Talament, the drone slithered across the floor. When there was only two feet between Valance and itself, it stopped and emitted a deep rumbling noise.

To those unfamiliar with the Shai’Phayl, it was impossible to come up with any meaning from the alien vocalization. Valance, however, had dealt with them before, and the tones were meant to be felt rather than heard.
He picked out complex nuances in its seemingly uniform rumble. When the large creature finished it remained still awaiting a response.

The difference between understanding the Shai’Phayl and being able to speak back was as immense as the distance from Tracâdus to the Shai’Phayls’ home system.
Telepathic communication with this particular race was nearly impossible, but not useless. Valance used his psychic powers to create vibrations in the air without sound.

The drone dutifully slithered back into the service elevator, and made its way back into space. The second High Naryyn Patriarch watched it fly back to the gathered fleet, satisfied that the Nirm Conflict was in even better hands than before.....

This post has been edited by Lord Revan: Nov 10 2007, 07:05 AM

[jack cloudy]

More reinforcements? And here I was, thinking that the conflict was already pretty damn big. Ah well, I wonder what the council is up to.

[Lord Revan]

Ok, I managed to break the cursed writer's block (this time). Moving things along a bit, so without further adu......
--------------

Marthyn marched through the streets of Rifton; men and mer watched him warily as he passed. For the first time in a long time he felt the comfortable weight of a helmet on his head. But now he was absolutely faceless to the inhabitants of Nirm.
Clad in full armor, he was a head taller than the native people of this region, the Nords. Marthyn was alien; no way around it, on every street he passed through people took notice of him in his shining golden armor. As a psionist, a telepath more specifically, he was passively aware of all their surface thoughts and dispositions.

I’m not here to make an friendly impression, but these people might as well be screaming their thoughts in my ear; they’re so ignorant.... He thought, the cacophony of thoughts and ideas distracting him temporarily. Marthyn rounded the next corner to have something large and heavy collide with him.
Powered exoskeletal armor was an invaluable tool most of the time, but a good measure of its strength increase was required to stop falls, slow down, and other tasks where you needed to counter your increased inertia. This fact was made apparent when a passenger wagon came downhill found Marthyn to play the role of a road-side barrier.

The psionist, having failed to brace before-hand, was thrown off-balance and landed hard enough to cause the stonework street to buckle for the impact. Marthyn shook off the disorientation, noting that the wagon had gone to splinters from its failed hit-and-run.
Several boys came running down the street; Marthyn could already gather it was their fault the wagon had gotten loose during their playtime before he even got back to his feet. He got up to see a half dozen wide-eyed, slack-jawed adolescents watching in awe and some measure of fear as he rose, seemingly unharmed, from what would normally be a lethal accident.

They were young alright, early teens by Marthyn’s estimate, that fact made him grit his teeth in anger. Some girls were mixed in as well, mostly they were all human, and a couple Bosmer, but all were the starry-eyed short-lived kinds of natives. Marthyn didn’t need to be a mind-reader to know how this entire incident started..... and likely end.

He didn’t have anything against children in general, but Marthyn couldn’t stand the irresponsible, trouble-making sort, especially when their antics got in his way. His almost -almost- reached for the sidearm attached to his thigh. Marthyn reigned in his temper before he could take it out on someone..... painfully.
The children must have believed the trouble they were in would be much worse if they didn’t beat it; the psionist was willing to accept that and pushed the children and his anger out of his mind. He glanced at his suits status and was relieved to see the incident hadn’t done any moderate or severe damage.

Do parents here just let their children run amok here? Marthyn strode rest of the way to the chapel in the middle of town. People continued to stare at him as he went in. Well, I am an otherworldly entity that no one knows what to make of in the first place, now I’m walking into one of their sacred sites.
As soon as he finished that thought he realized that very few of the people present actually felt any kind of reverence toward this place or the concept it stood for. But like the children’s mischief, Marthyn let the shock go and leaned against the wall in one of the corners.

At that moment, Nara materialized beside him, perhaps her “lessons” were paying off after all. “You did better than last time; given time you could eventually mask your presence and move about undetected.” Marthyn said nothing, knowing the seer preferred him to reply as so.
He noticed something he hadn’t before; a seer’s eyes were typically reverse the norm for the Iso Naryyn: white iris and solid red sphere. Purebloods at least, most of them these days had some non-seer blood in them. But now Marthyn say some red appearing in Nara’s iris and white creeping into the rest; he couldn’t recall what those symptoms meant but it bugged him slightly.

“Why were you interested in Rifton? The Plys’Iea haven’t shown any interest in this place, because the Imperial forces would take minutes to launch a counter attack the cold-blooded lizards would ill-afford.” The psionist paused a moment, then added. “And no amount of sanctity will keep Markus or Syran from confronting us, so what are you waiting for?”

The seer did not reply immediately, instead, she gazed eastward for a moment. “The fleet of Arastus will be arriving shortly. If you hurry outside you should be one of the first to see them.”
Those words hardly registered in his mind before Marthyn pushed open the door to the chapel and stepped out into Rifton’s town square. The mountains on the border were veiled in mist, but now that he knew what to expect, Marthyn was able to feel the combined fleet in the distance.

Somewhere among them is my brother, I must face him again after trying to kill him. “No peace-making is necessary, Revan holds no resentment against you..... If anything, he has the same goal as you have, your words have opened his eyes to the truth of his birth.” Nara reassured him, both were drawing a lot of attention from passersby.

“He was born as a tool, a means to an end. Revan doesn’t deserve that burden, but I don’t think any of us has a choice except to play along with Syran’s plans.” Marthyn muttered, at first he had considered the source of his shame, now he pitied him.
“Your father did not go through this of his own accord; it took time for him to be swayed. Syran is the heart of this, in the end the Naryyn will be returned to glory or completely vanquished.” The seer said gently.

Marthyn nodded; he knew what Syran intended, to an extent anyway. She intended to use Revan as a herald to bring the Naryyn back together, but she had no love for what she looked at as a piece her own craftsmanship not her only son. “Whether by my hand or Revan’s, that manipulative little umbrella seller won’t live to enjoy in her victory when this is over and done!”

Nara nodded approvingly but said nothing; a larger crowd was beginning to form. People were getting curious about why they were focused on the Morrowind Border.

[jack cloudy]

So....Marthyn is basically learning to blend in? Is he being trained to become an infiltrator?

[Lord Revan]

This is a poor excuse for an update, but I decided to include a few messages between people under a particular Patriarch's authority. (wink)
-----------

<<Priority: Alpha>>
-From: Inferno
-Subject: Supernova Commentaries
-To: Tempest
-Confidentiality: Above Top Secret
-Date: !&_^)_*(($

As per Supernova’s commentaries, candidates are being selected for post-war program. The current count is 26 at the moment [see attachment 1 for ID]; Sol is working on procurement. Off the record, I must say that this is absolutely unprecedented, Supernova is ordering us, not just to cover-up our ops, but to kill loyal and well-placed citizens of the Cradle!
I know he wouldn’t order us to do our jobs if the skates weren’t so high, but this is not something anyone would accept if this leaked out! Just forget it, we'll just follow our orders and keep this between ourselves and leave everything else to 'Nova.

You know you’re end, but I’ll say it again anyway. We need elite personnel to train these troops, no matter where they are or who they are. Above skill we want experience, cold, harsh, and gritty. Don’t turn people on the frontier, we need them more than the others because these units will be fighting on the edge, they need to be able to adapt and compensate for the battlefield without Intel reports on every crevice and boulder on the planet’s surface.
Look, if ‘Nova says we need these when the time comes I can run with that, but I know I won’t ever feel secure looking at my family anymore..... ever again.

<<Click to purge memory>>

-----------

<<Priority: Omega>>
-From: Maelstrom
-To: Supernova

It was on this day that I read an encrypted message sent from one of my subordinates to another. I make it a habit to understand the minds behind those below me. The communication was properly encrypted (it took my new software twenty full minutes to crack), but I found something much more..... unsatisfactory in it.

Doubt is the worst affliction an individual can be diagnosed with, once it takes hold it eats away and away at a person, until they are a useless husk, drowning in their paranoia and erratic misconceptions...... a pitiful end that even the best and brightest can face.
However, Inferno is not an immediate liability, she is still useful. But when her destruction becomes inevitable, I will put her at ease and place a fresher mind in her old position.

I am spent too much time on Inferno; the project is progressing smoothly: 26 candidates have been selected already, and trainers for them are also being targeted. When the time comes your Special Operations Troopers will be ready for anything you command them to do.

The scavenger probes are in position and have begun collecting small samples of Plys'Iea armor, in three months they will have acquired the amount specified. Everything is in place, Master, but I do have some concerns.
With the greatest respect to you, I believe that there is a chance Fenix may catch on to your plans, in spite of all the precaution I have taken.

<<I shall obey>>

This post has been edited by Lord Revan: Jan 6 2008, 05:56 AM

[Lord Revan]

I don't mean this in a bad way, but sometimes this feels like giving CPR......
-----------

The War Leader loomed over the facility; it would not be long before their creation was complete. While it had been an excessive set back when the AI Mute Testimony hacked into the network, the progress they’d made was not lost after all.
Replacement staff had been found and it hadn’t taken long for the new staff to pick up where their deceased brood left off. A familiar presence approached and the stress from the past few months lessened greatly, though she would never admit it to anyone.

She turned to greet Zarauhn; the psionist was young and inexperienced but made up for his failings with raw potential and guile. “You’re study went well? Knowledge will remain with you until the day you die, but strength will leave you long before if you are lucky.”

Zarauhn clapped his massive right hand against his chest and bowed his head. “I cannot argue with such insight, but I prefer strength, knowledge is a fine fall-back.” Many of the non-combat personnel shied away from the pair, unwilling to offend them and pay retribution.
The War Leader glanced over Zarauhn’s shoulder and spied the High Naryyn woman lying unconscious on a crate. “You haven’t killed her yet.”

As his War Leader walked past him toward Kartah, he replied. “She’s not capable of posing a threat to us or a possible informant for the other Naryyn, but I gleaned quite a lot of interesting information from her not long into the partnership.
Zarauhn continued when the War Leader gave him a look to continue. “Staff Sergeant Kartah met a couple interesting individuals before the botched operation that resulted in her meeting me. Two Iso Naryyn, or rather, one Iso Naryyn and a half-blood.”

The War Leader’s vertical-slit pupil widened slightly, and her jaw tightened into a scowl. It was common knowledge that Naryyn did not intermingle, but it was believed by the current Chieftain that worst thing the Naryyn could do was unite again, however unlikely the prospect.
Certainly a half-blood would the most obvious harbinger for a new union. The War Leader was about to respond when the sky flashed radiantly. The light burned into Zarauhn’s retinas, but he saw the silhouettes of several heavy capital ships.

Every Plys’Iea in the valley stopped to stare up at the new arrivals. There was no need to glance at the War Leader’s snarl to notice her displeasure. The fleet remained above while one vessel, a dreadnaught of great majesty, descended and moved in to land.
“Promise me you won’t provoke the Chieftain’s hand, Mother....” The psionist pleaded, but the War Leader did not reply, her glare following the dreadnaught.

---------

The Terminal Upheaval was a fine ship, only a destroyer, but Revan found being surrounded by High Naryyn atmosphere refreshing in a way. Whereas Iso Naryyn vessels had dim lighting at best, the High Naryyn corridors were flooded with light.
Rhys leaned against the railing in front of the viewports of the Upheaval’s observation deck. “We’re almost clear of the fog,” Revan’s voice resonated through her mind, physically on the bridge.

“I wish you were right here when the fleet exits the mist, Rifton hasn’t been scarred by the war yet.” She whispered, her eyes gazing through hull, crystal, and space at Revan.
“I’ll know what it looks like; this way we can see the region with both our own eyes and the High Naryyn’s technology.” He replied, matching looks from some of the personnel.

From now on, every moment was a moment the Plys’Iea or High Naryyn Expeditionary Force might appear for a fight. Revan was leaning against a bulkhead, encased in his newly forged armor. One way or another, this won’t last much longer. With everyone upping the stakes it’s only a matter of time before someone pushes hard enough.....
Commander Xaries turned and met gazes with him, sharing a slight nod of agreement.

Hopefully it will be the Imperial fleet, or us, the Plys’Iea need to be defeated before this goes all over the place. Revan crossed his arms, waiting for the armada to get somewhere......

[The Metal Mallet]

Things are moving nicely. Keep it up.