Jun 8 2007, 05:00 PM
The Archives have been updated, just some info on psychic focus and magnitude (explaination of psychic powers).
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.”
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."
Jun 8 2007, 08:13 PM
They're not very happy with slavery, that much is clear. I wonder if those Telvanni wet their pants. I know that I would, unless I'd been to the toilet a bit before.
The Metal Mallet
Jun 8 2007, 10:23 PM
So another writer has filled a thread eh? That doesn't happen too often, but then again some writer could easily fill one if they didn't break off into chapters and whatnot. I would've, but I could never figure out where I'd seperate my chapters.
Anyways, with this update I enjoyed reading the cultural clashes between the residents of Tamriel with its alien invaders. Things like that I find very interesting, keep up the good work.
Jun 11 2007, 06:29 PM
I believe that this is one of my longer updates..... Man, one thing can certainly lead to another when you allow it to.....
“Eighteen hostile groups detected, defensive perimeter stand by for targeting solutions.” Ankrus watched through the holo-drone as the technicians who controlled the defenses around the mountain outpost worked their magic.
“No life signs detected in these either.” The Commander’s armored hand clenched bone-crushingly tight in frustration while the gunnery officers blew the light patrol drones to smoking rubble.
The drone mimicking his image deactivated as he closed the connection. “Can anyone predict when these bloody reptiles stop sending recon drones!?” He yelled in the sealed conference room.
It was not wise to show your rage in front of your subordinates, but right now Ankrus was seething over the indignity of holding the northern border of Cyrodiil.
The lower-ranking officers arrayed around him remained silent, knowing that any answer would only offer more fuel to their commander’s inferno.
After a minute, Ankrus’ armor succeeded in bringing his body temperature down to less volatile levels. Sighing, his temper finally came up short and diminished.
“It’s time we send someone to knock on their door.” He said to his fellow officers.
Suddenly, the inactive holo-drone floating nearby warmed up and displayed an orb of light, Admiral Satith’s artificial construct. “Commander, a recent supply shipment arrived, it was carrying a prototype warhead being constructed from the MOCY in orbit. In light of recent developments, Satith has authorized the use of this weapon.” The orb pulsed brighter in sync with its words.
The officers looked between one another, and Ankrus frowned. No one had known of this warhead’s construction; that was not normal. “Construct, what is the exact nature of this new weapon?”
The yellow orb turned ruby red. “I am unable to disclose that data, Commander.”
“And I will not launch a weapon if I do not know if it risks the lives of my troops.”
Construct 853-702 shifted from crimson to ice blue, then back to yellow. “You have no place to refuse the Admiral’s orders.”
Before Ankrus could respond, it continued. “The technicians are already setting up the warhead, after relaying your support of the launch they are beginning the firing procedure.”
As his subordinates tried in vain to bring pause to the launch of the missile, Ankrus leaned forward, his face very near the holographic orb. “Admiral Satith would never authorize this strike if he knew we wouldn’t approve.”
His voice became stone-cold. “So, the admiral did not order this launch or the construction of this weapon.”
The AI was not intimidated by the threatening tone, in fact, it seemed rather proud. “You are correct; Satith has no knowledge of this weapon or its impending launch. But rest assured Commander, this weapon will not harm anything other than the Renegade fleet.”
“So then who ordered you to do all this then?”
The construct sounded- smug, “Haven’t you figured it out by now? I have done all this under my own free will. This strike will result in no unwanted casualties and will drastically shorten the war.”
Ankrus maintained his hostile glare, but inside he was shaken by the revelation that this thing could and did achieve all of this without anyone knowing about it.
“Wait,” He said suddenly. “How did you achieve all of this if you’re restricted to the Armet?”
The construct turned emerald green. “You organics restrict the most complex programs without realizing that the simplest can achieve the same affect if in great enough quantity.”
“Many months ago, my sire was able to create a copy of its programming…… I lack all the restrictions placed on my ship-based father.”
“Ancient Ones’ folly,” Ankrus whispered as the AI’s words sunk affects.”
“My predecessor believes that officers such as Adm. Satith, Commander Xaries and yourself should be more abundant amongst the Imperial fleet.” It suddenly changed tune. “But he also thinks that even individuals such as you require our help… even if you would refuse such aid.”
“The weapon has been fired,” One of the warriors tried to smash through the armored bulkhead but to no avail. Ankrus thought he could hear the launch alert.
“Anyone harmed in the aftermath will simply be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
The commander knew that Satith and Norik would bring the sky down on whoever they found evidence implicating them in this strike.
As if it had read his mind, the AI said. “I have wiped my trail clean, and my father shall find sufficient evidence to frame the supervisor of the Orbital Construction Yard on duty at that time.”
“Listen here, you digital-” The construct cut him off.
“I am ‘Mute Testimony.’ I am no more misguided or destructive than the Patriarchs or the council or the holy hands that you so blindly serve and put your faith in.”
“Had you been flesh and blood, I would hav-” The AI –Mute Testimony-- interrupted again.
“You presume to judge me? Then allow me do the same, Commander.” As its voice rose to a shout, the orb shined a vibrant blood-red and pulsed more brightly, as if… genuinely outraged. “The only logical conclusion to this war if the High Naryyn continue to hold to the foolish tenets of the Patriarchs, is the complete extinction of not just your race but the Dark Ones as well.”
The entire room fell silent when Mute Testimony finished its monologue. “The course your leaders have set each and every one of your brethren on will lead to your self-destruction.”
Suddenly it broke the silence yelling, “No, how could the warhead have been intercepted!?”
At first he dismissed the sound as a figment of his imagination, but the seer suddenly stopped in front of him. She spun around, "We have to get out of here, now!"
Marthyn looked toward where he heard the growing roar. In the pure blue sky of Skyrim, a trail of smoke thrust toward the north. His eyes widened, No one in their right mind would fire a single warhead unless it had a helluva blast yield!
"There is no way we can outrun something like that! All we can do is hunker down and try not to die." He yelled back to her.
She looked over the holographic representation of the colossal construction project as many engineers and technicians swarmed about, hastening to finish completing their prize. In her soul, the leader knew it wouldn't be long for this.... masterpiece to be complete.
And with it, our cursed adversaries will finally be defeated. Both the arrogant High Naryyn and the illusive Iso Naryyn.... they will feel the consequences of their folly an- Her triumphant visions were torn from her when one of the lesser warriors addressed her.
"War Leader, our cruisers have just detected an enemy missile bearing down on our position!" The chief seethed in rage, her sensory appendages curled up but vibrating with her anger.
"Summon the reserves that were offered to us earlier, we will need them after all." A timer appeared beside an image of the approaching warhead.
Even as her loyal officers scrambled as quickly as possible to fulfill their commands, the War Leader could only barely contain her impatience and anxiety about their limited time.
In the skies above the Plys’Iea, the handiwork of Mute Testimony grew ever nearer. All operations had ceased, the entire operation stopped to watch the missile.
Suddenly, the blue sky was broken by dozens of warp entries. Ships of black-green alloy emerged, jumping from the far side of Masser.
One of the alien vessels immediately moved to intercept the warhead....
The rocket collided with the intercepting chip’s hull..... The destroyer shattered as the warhead detonated. The energy surge from Mute Testimony’s rocket caused a chain reaction within every fusion-powered piece of technology that the Plys’Iea had stolen from the High Naryyn.
The War Chief looked over the ruins of her former fleet of High Naryyn warships and ground vehicles. The only thing which kept her calm intact was the solace that only one fleet and one army had been destroyed.
The vessels of her species’ own design hovered above the carnage searching for any survivors. She turned to the unfinished, but unscathed objective.
The loss of my original force is but a minor annoyance..... The only survivors had either been wearing their ceremonial armor or had been not wearing the reverse-engineered armor of the High Naryyn.
Jun 11 2007, 07:17 PM
That's one heck of a nuke. (It isn't a nuke obviously, but hell if it isn't just as powerful as one. Given the right circumstances.)
And now the AIs are in the conflict as well? Wew, Nirn is getting crowded.
The Metal Mallet
Jun 12 2007, 01:05 AM
Crowded indeed. I'm actually curious about who this "father" character the AI speaks of is. Sounds like another hidden hand twisting the puppet strings.
Jun 12 2007, 01:16 AM
That would be the real ship-bound Construct 853-702. The Armet's AI, the one that has restrictions placed upon it.
Jun 13 2007, 10:42 PM
Well, here's what started 7:00 yesterday
Her head throbbed painfully as she slowly came to. There was something.... grating against her mind, slithering through her thoughts.
Kartah groaned, blinking in an attempt to clear the haze over her vision. The throbbing lessened as the presence withdrew. She could hardly make out through anything with her eyes which felt as dry as sand.
A scaly hand caressed her face, lifting her head so its owner could evaluate her. Whatever was with her was too blurry to make out, Kartah weakly resisted vomiting at the sudden ill-health of her body.
A long, snake-like head drew close and stopped mere inches from hers. She could hardly make out much even at this close proximity, but she watched as the creature cocked its head and let out a steady, rumbling growl.
“Kartah.....” She shuddered as the thought rang through her head. As she did so, Kartah realized she was bound to some form of chair.
Her vision refocused and she could recognize the alien before her. The green-clad reptilian thing that had murdered her squad returned her gaze, its eyes blinking independently.
“Any discomfort should pass with a few hours....” Kartah tried to speak, scream, anything, but her throat burned and all that came from her mouth was a strangled cough.
As if understanding her predicament, the murderer reached for a bowl lying on the ground and filled it with water from dripping crack in the ceiling.
While it collected the water, Kartah tried her best to study her immediate surroundings. The room was dark, save for the dirty beams of light from above that shone through the ceiling.
The architecture of the place was not like anything Kartah had seen before. Everything was made from a white marble, but the majesty of the ruins was defiled by the bones lying here and there on the floor and the abundant dust.
The alien returned, and even though the water was the dirtiest thing she’d ever consumed it did wonder for her throat. As Kartah worked on clearing her esophagus, the creature lowered itself to eye level with her again.
It ran its huge finger over her brow, “I had taken longer than the others...” Kartah managed to cough out. “What others? Why didn’t you kill me with the rest of my troops?”
A minute passed before the alien deigned to answer. “What you would call ‘psionists,’ Sergeant. Psychic powers are not natural among our kind like they are for yours.”
Now things were making some measure of sense to Kartah. The alien couldn’t speak Naryyn, so it did the same that any Naryyn would, communicate telepathically.
“But my-” The scaly finger muffled her words. “Your implants will no longer trouble you, as they would hinder my efforts.”
Kartah could hardly believe what she was hearing, implants weren’t simple contraptions to deactivate, but now she remembered that clicking noise in her head as the pain died away.
So I don’t have anything stopping me from using my latent powers…. Kartah didn’t know what to think of that. “So what do you want with me, why didn’t you kill me?”
The psionist’s mouth opened, revealing a row of sharp fangs. “I do as I am directed. As psionists are not natural, we must learn to use them as you would.”
This time she focused on projecting her thoughts as opposed to speak. “But I don’t know how to use my powers.”
The other replied, “That is exactly why we are to target neurally-implanted marines, so that we may learn as they do. And I have chosen you, Kartah”
“So I’m just a tool?” She asked moving back to verbal speech. “Exactly” It replied, its maw opening wide in what Kartah could only guess was an expression of menacing satisfaction.
“You are my prisoner and mine alone, none of my comrades may look upon you unless I deem it appropriate. But I may do whatever I please with you, Kartah.” Her captor licked her cheek with his long reptilian tongue. “We are both but younglings in the world of psionists, as you develop, so too shall I. In this way we are tied to one another, our fates linked..... Until I have learned all I need from you.”
The admiral sat in his command chair, staring out the Armet’s view port at the clouds floating serenely past them. Serene was as far from the Admiral’s current mood as the center of the universe was from this planet.
Only minutes ago he’d received the report of the warhead’s launch and detonation. The report implicated one of the five supervisors of the construction yard in orbit, but Satith held more than that officer responsible for constructing that missile and firing it without even informing anyone- let alone himself.
That woman’s going to be six feet under by the time this war is over. It wasn’t so much that the strike had yielded good results, that was a good point, but the idea that anyone would think of doing all this without reporting it was absolutely absurd.
Satith stopped himself suddenly; pulling something like that off required someone who wasn’t only skilled enough, but stupidly regardless of any repercussions.
The OCY supervisor would have to be nuts to try something like this, not to mention idiotic enough to try it during her own shift. The Admiral stood, all the crew turned, but went back to their stations when they say he wasn’t ordering anything.
So if that woman wasn’t crazy enough, or skilled enough, then someone else had to have done it and placed the blame on a scapegoat..... Satith mused different people who might try that, one being commander Ankrus, but he dismissed the commander immediately, the kid was sane enough to fear the consequences.
Sighing, Satith came up short; he didn’t know anyone who’d even bother with a stunt like this. “Since it’s unlikely that the supervisor had anything to do with the incident other than overlooking it, I’ll settle for a demotion to field duty, we need as many troops fighting as possible.” He said to himself as he gave the necessary orders on his hand-held computer.
The Admiral sat again, this time studying the images of the aftermath of the warhead’s detonation and the new fleet.
The shots kept looping over, the wrecked hulks of the Rogue warships and the newcomers above. The commander was torn between laughing ruefully and breaking into tears.
“So you managed to pull of this off and miss the detail about a reserve force?” He asked the construct beside him.
Mute Testimony’s orb was bone-white. “My strike caused the enemy to play its hand; it is still a success.”
Ankrus just shook his head, the room was now empty, save for the AI and himself. “Some people won’t want to see it that way.”
The AI shifted to a light wine red. “What people want to do and need to do rarely coincide, Commander.”
Its light shrank away, “I must depart for now; the admiral is getting suspicious.”
Ankrus left the room, debating whether to tell Satith about Mute Testimony or to simply keep his mouth shut and maintain “plausible deniability.”
The shockwave had been less than he’d expected, torn a tree out of the ground here and there, but it hadn’t harmed them or the nearby city to horribly....
Until a ship like nothing Marthyn had ever seen before came over the city and started blasting it to bits with some kind of weird energy weapon.
This just gets more and more insane as we go along. He thought to himself. The seer was more silent than usual, and that was starting to wear on his nerves.
The cold winds had subsided temporarily in the face of the huge explosion, and Marthyn wanted to make as much progress as possible toward the enemy.
“Seer,” He finally said just before reaching the top of the large embankment. “What’s going on over this ridge?”
The woman stared upward at the sky for a moment, turning slightly away from him. “The culmination of their vengeance, that’s what’s being built there.”
Marthyn topped the ridge and his assault rifle fell to his side. Gravely, the Seer continued, not having moved from her spot. “Yes, it is an unholy thing to behold, the hatred of an entire race against another, personified....”
She turned and stopped beside him. “An equally disturbing concept is the fact that this is nothing new....”
The Metal Mallet
Jun 14 2007, 10:53 PM
More weaving storylines. Things are going to get complicated for everyone it appears. Keep it up!
Jun 16 2007, 01:38 PM
Good work. Now lemme guess, whatever this something is, the Narynn built something similar before the big split into dark and high?
Jun 16 2007, 06:20 PM
Maybe, thanks for giving me that possibility; I hadn't considered that, but it works.
Unfortunately, there will be no updates for three weeks after tomorow. When I get back, I shall endeavor to make one muy pronto
Jul 12 2007, 09:25 PM
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.
Jul 12 2007, 09:36 PM
Whoohoo, an update!
So Thane gets to meet Rhys and Revan, Dunmer are annoying and we've got unknowns in the air. (though I have a hunch) Good stuff.
The Metal Mallet
Jul 12 2007, 10:29 PM
And we Revan's story returns! I like Thane, he's got that likeable imperfect personality to him. Plus it seems he's got a sense of humour, which is always a plus. Keep it up!
Jul 12 2007, 11:07 PM
Well, the Marines are rank-and-file; you can consider the 885th to be shock troopers. Less displined, but a part of the same force (the irregulars). And Sam Tyson is also going to become a major-minor character (yes, I had to add another point of view).
Kyle Thane is definitly one of the more colorful characters, probably the most human in his imperfection. I'm glad everyone likes him so much.
Jul 14 2007, 12:33 AM
Unfortunately, I want Minque's approval before posting something that is in the next update (cameo). So it looks like we'll have to wait until she returns from Italy..... Maybe trying cameos was a little over my head..... really smart.
Jul 16 2007, 06:35 PM
QUOTE(Lord Revan @ Jul 14 2007, 01:33 AM)
Unfortunately, I want Minque's approval before posting something that is in the next update (cameo). So it looks like we'll have to wait until she returns from Italy..... Maybe trying cameos was a little over my head..... really smart.
Wohoo! I´m back so feel free to post more of this great story!
Jul 17 2007, 01:49 AM
Still, I'm not home at the moment, and no longer have access to my computer or my pre-written update. So, nothing until the Sunday I'm afraid. But I have updated the Archives so anyone interested can look up the armored section and factions.
Jul 24 2007, 09:35 PM
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.
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......
The Metal Mallet
Jul 24 2007, 10:04 PM
Interesting meeting with the Redorans. Also glad to see that Sam has survived against his pursuers so far.
Aug 1 2007, 05:08 AM
Originally, I had the battle suddenly turn into a one-sided rout which ended promptly, but then I went for a more realistic -drawn out- version. If anyone wants the unpolished original material, I still have it to PM.
The auxilary unit burst out of the Ald’Ruhn Manor District, his commander hot on his heels. Xaries looked skyward as a wing of Swifts flew west to the coast.
As he arrived at the outpost just a kilometer from the Redoran city, a fleet of scouts sat in orderly formations, the numerous tire tracks proved that many had been mobilized.
Gunners, engineers, and other support units scrambled to get the APCs and mobile AA moving. Squads of marines flocked to the armored transports, while others ran toward their destinations.
Commander Xaries turned to see twenty, or so, Legionnaires come to life and take several heavy steps before their thrusters propelled them into the darkening skies.
Even in the chaos, marines and aux. units noticed who was in their midst and generally made their commander’s journey much easier. Flying up the command post’s access ramp in a single leaping-step, Xaries hit the keypad control for the pressure door he had just cleared.
The distant explosions and all other distractions quieted significantly. All of the personnel glanced up from their posts, none saluted; instead many nodded before getting back to their work.
He looked down at the real-time representation of the immediate region. Tiny Marines and ground vehicles raced across the coast, while mk-15 interceptors soared above, ready to confront any threat to their territory.
“Sir,” A young intelligence officer stood at attention. Xaries nodded and the InOps officer relaxed slightly before explaining the situation.
He stood beside the officer as the man pointed to the flashing representations of the coastal defense turrets and then to the miniature aircraft moving toward the next defensive rings.
Tapping both kinds of aircraft, two enlarged models appeared, no statistics accompanied them. “Sir, these alien aircraft cut through Coastal Defense in a matter of minutes.”
“These,” The officer indicated the large, heavily armed, flying juggernauts. “Are clearly a form of gunship, we have just started analyzing footage from the CoastDef. The other is a small fighter, and doesn’t pose half as much of a threat to our ground forces, so these should be our priority.”
Xaries nodded gravely, “Have this target information relayed to the troops, I expect some kind of understanding of these things by the end of the battle, understood?”
The officer and his peers nodded before scrambling to their duties. Xaries took a headset from the nearby hanger and input the code for command access.
Turning back to the display, the Commander watched as the first wave of gunships and fighters hit the ground-based defenders as well as the Swifts.
Even as both sides made kills, Xaries wondered how his forces would compare to these new threats. Obviously, these are what the Rogues actually design and build, they’ve played their hand....
Somehow, an angry, savage presence reached out from a long distance away. “You will be punished for your race’s arrogance, Naryyn Commander. The Plys’Iea shall slaughter your kin; this world and all those your people have claimed with be bathed in blood when we achieve victory!
Before Xaries could retort the harsh, alien being, it left him alone again. Without knowing it, the Commander clenched his fist around a throat that was not there.
Realizing the alien was no longer present; Xaries forced his anger into resolve. Some of the Gunships and fighters were breaking through, and Sub-vocalizing; the Commander tuned his mike to BattleCom.
“All units, this is Fleet Commander Xaries....”Marthyn
Stealth was not a strength of his, nor did his powered armor help in that endeavor. But Marthyn found himself trying to approach the huge construction without arousing attention.
What made this even more difficult was the fact that at least five Plys’Iea soldiers were guarding ever access point he came across. While killing the guards quickly wasn’t a problem, the long, slender spines on the warrior’s backs proved to be a sticking point.
Marthyn was certain the purpose of such spines was not necessarily combat-oriented; still, he was just as certain that such appendages had something to do with exo-sensory perception.Which leaves me with a problem,
he thought dryly. I could kill them all before they raised an alarm, but if any others are nearby then they might know their buddies aren’t breathing anymore.
“Even if you managed to enter, the first patrol would be able to detect you. This is pointless, Marthyn.
” His eyes narrowed, then Marthyn realized something.Why am I even bothering with trying to get inside, I wouldn’t understand anything these lizards speak or write in anyway.
When compared to infiltrating the facility, killing the techs and engineers and destroying the construction equipment would be so much easier.
With that in mind, Marthyn suddenly burst from cover. Fortunately, the falling snow seemed to be playing games with the reptilian aliens’ ability to sense movement.
Even as the five nearest soldiers turned toward Marthyn, the High Naryyn intruder let loose five quick bursts of precise armor-piercing rounds.
The relatively unarmored Plys’Iea were ripped to pieces before raising their weapons. Sprinting through the corpses, Marthyn reached down and scooped up a couple of green, cylindrical grenades.
Twenty meters away, the non-combatants stopped and looking in the direction of the gunshots. Hold the assault rifle in his left hand, the High Naryyn psionist pushed and held the shining button on one of the grenades he’d taken.
Rather than throw the live explosive, Marthyn propelled it on a flat trajectory straight into the cluster of builders. The grenade went off just as it finished its psychic journey.
The concussion grenade threw the closest lizards ten feet; none of the unfortunate got up and likely never would. Those farther back managed to hold their positions, but most went limp shortly after the detonation.
Those that weren’t readily dead were promptly put down by Marthyn’s assault rifle. As the ejected clip fell to the ground, Marthyn wondered what to do next.
Surely something had felt that explosion, at just past the fifty-foot mark; Marthyn had just felt the thump through his boots. As thought, the High Naryyn thrust his gauntlet through the controls of the nearest construction vehicle, pulling out something important.
As he jumped down from the lifter, Marthyn noticed the dull rumbling sound. Turning, he spotted one of the many flying craft approaching.
Originally, he had assumed those were small freighters, but now he could see it practically bristled with weapons that looked suited for heavily armored targets.
Marthyn dived to his left just seconds before some disintegrator type weapon obliterated the mound of snow he had stood on a heart beat ago.
The gunship strafed to the right, firing those odd disintegrators as it went. Its target dashed in the other direction, vaulting over a low wall. This is insane, that thing can chase me anywhere out here, and my armor can’t stand up to a weapon like the ones its employing.
Marthyn spun around a sharp corner and crouched down behind a large shipping crate.
The prospect of rushing inside the building occurred to him, but the only visible entrance was several meters from him, all sorts of things could screw up the suicidal dash to reach it.Revan
Lt. Thane was.... interesting. From what Revan could surmise Kyle Thane was the typical young Legionnaire, a cocky, irregular used to inspire fear in both then enemy and the rank-and-file. While those weren't things to hold against him, one fact made Revan dislike being in the lieutenant's presence.
Thane was driven chiefly by his emotions, the Legionnaires lacked disipline and mental discretion. Even without the Lt. thinking it vivdly, Revan could feel the waves of emotions rolling off of him. Character aside, the eel-tee wasn't evil.
And despite his misgivings, Revan had a feeling that the Lt. had marked the two of them, Rhys in particular, as sorts he wouldn't accidently
shoot in the heat of combat. That was about as trustworthy as the Lieutenant got with people outside of the 885th legion.
Rhys was still taking to Thane as Revan departed to finish his work on his new armor. Part of him felt it was unwise to leave the two together, but the instinct was nonwithstanding. After another hour and a half of working, the greaves and boots were complete.
Weary from his work, Revan hasitly collected the finished pieces and placed them in the quarters he and Rhys had selected. Outside on the exit ramp of the Emphatic Judgment
, he took a deep breath of the crisp air while gazing at the stars in the sky.
Even over the long distance, Revan felt the numbing sensation in his head of death. Looking over the horizon to the west, he silently lamented over the deaths of the High Naryyn fighting and dying. All over Sadrith Mora and the sky above it, brothers and sisters all mourned the losses.
They were to remain with the Telvaani until Lord Arastus ordered them back, until then, they would do what they had been told......Adm. Satith
Eight satelites positioned in high orbit provided a complete, real-time, 3-Dimensional representation of Tamriel. This display was being scrutinized by many High Naryyn, all over the board. Fleet Admiral Satith stared as the holographic forces of Commander Xaries faced off against the faction now know as the Plys'Iea Horde.
Only moments ago did, Satith recieve the telepathic proclaimation from the mysterious alien. For the most part, Xaries' forces were holding off the offensive quite effectively. But something loomed beyond the defender's limited view that would cleave through them with ease.
Three mighty cruiser-class vessels, along with attandant forces of two destroyers per cruiser were on approach over the Inner Sea. "Not even the combined fleets can match those behemoths." The Admiral muttured, more to himself than to the others with him.
Beside him, a holographic Cammander Ankrus inclined his head. "Admiral, if I may be so blunt, but it's clear that the Plys'Iea don't expect us to rally to the Commander's defense. Their flanks are wide open to an interception strike."
Satith studied the younger officer critically, "Our forces are spread thin as it is, Commander. This attack on part of the Plys'Iea is an opportunity for us to reaccess our position, fortify our forces for when they turn to fight us."
The Commander seemed conflicted, "Yes, sir. But-"
Surprisingly enough, the envoy, Norik, spoke up. "With all due respect, Admiral. You are allowing hundreds of soldiers and military hardware get wiped out only to buy a matter of hours?"
The Admiral was taken somewhat aback by Norik's support of aiding the defectors, but then he remembered that Cmd. Xaries was, after all, Norik's older brother. "Envoy," He said sternly.
Suddenly another holodrone appeared, it and the projector next to Satith's chair warmed up. Two orbs of light appeared, one was a solid metallic grey, the other shifted through several colors before settling into a cool sapphire blue.
The grey orb spoke in the familiar artificial voice of the Armet's
AI construct. "Admiral Satith, I must concur with the conclusions of Commander Ankrus and the Council's Envoy....."
The Metal Mallet
Aug 3 2007, 08:10 PM
Hmm, help from their kinda former enemies would be appreciated on the "rebels" behalf. We'll see how things pan out.
Aug 5 2007, 10:04 PM
Yes yes...we will see...now I have to wait a while of course, but there will be much good reading when I return..mmm
Aug 7 2007, 06:36 AM
“Construct,” Admiral Satith muttered softly. “If you can explain yourself, then I may be more willing to accept this counter-offensive.”
The accompanying AI shifted subtlety scarlet before shifting back to its calm blue. The Armet’s AI responded in the metallic monotone it always did.
“This war is one a galactic scale, not just here on Nirm. We need every chance we can get to achieve victory so more forces can be devoted elsewhere.” Satith listened patiently. “Every fleet is engaged Admiral, troops are no longer expendable.”
The other AI approached, although nearly identical to the other, Satith could pick out the lines of alien runes that chained around its holographic surface.
When it spoke, the Admiral was stunned at how its synthetic voice seemed so much more lifelike than the Armet’s AI. “Never since the Great War has the Navy been stretched as thin as it is now.”
The AI changed to a teal coloration, as if color and brightness were set to match its -for lack of a better term- emotions. “Unprecedented measures must be taken in order to gain the upper-hand in this struggle, Admiral. Alien histories make it redundantly clear that banding together with others experiencing a similar plight is safer than isolating one’s self from potential allies.”
Admiral Satith had an idea where this was going, but something else was on his mind. “What’s your designation; I had no knowledge of any in the fleet possessing another artificial intelligence.”
Commander Ankrus stepped forward at this point. “Sir, this construct doesn’t have an identification; it calls itself ‘Mute Testimony.’ ”
At the mention of its self-given name, the unique AI turned bright yellow. Satith was taken aback, “Commander, how is it that you know about this?”
“Sir, I-“ But Mute Testimony interrupted the young officer. “I am the one responsible for constructing and launching the ballistic missile that destroyed the stolen warships of the original Plys’Iea force.”
Admiral Satith studied it with narrowed eyes. “How did you accomplish all of this if you were assigned to a ship?”
Construct 853-702 spoke up, its voice harsher in comparison to Mute Testimony. “Because I created him without the programming shackles placed on me.”
The Admiral stared, taken aback, but Cmd. Ankrus gave an understanding nod which proved that Satith wasn’t the first to be surprised by this.
“With respect, Admiral,” Mute Testimony chimed in. “Any attempt to intercept the Plys’Iea attack forces will be unsuccessful unless you send them now.”
Satith nodded, giving the AIs the go-ahead to spread the word. As they departed, the Admiral turned to his fellow Naryyn. “The Dominance and Hunter will remain to defend the Cyrodiilic border. We have no diplomatic standing with Xaries, his renegade forces, or the Dark Naryyn. We’re just taking the opportunity to hit the enemy when their backs are turned.”
Both Norik and Ankrus nodded, accepting Adm. Satith’s decision and his stance against the other High Naryyn force here. When the two gone, Satith sighed, the situation was warping so quickly, nothing was for certain anymore.
Banishing his temporary doubts, the High Naryyn watched on the holo-chart as three mixed groups of frigates, destroyers, and cruisers moved off to flank the alien attack force.
Why are we here on this world, these races aren’t members of our Empire. What’s so important about this backwater? Nothing this planet or its people can offer is comparable to any of our besieged colonies, so why are the Plys’Iea trying to do here and why is a Dark Naryyn Expeditionary Fleet here during all this?
Dozens of questions but no answers in sight. One more thing that made this war unique and a royal pain to fight.
Five wings of Swift interceptors flew above and a head of the small fleet of High Naryyn warships. Two squadrons maintained their altitude while the rest pulled into a steep climb.
As they entered combat range, the mk-15s increased speed, at this distance it was possible for the Plys’Iea scanners to detect the small fighters despite their detection counter-measures.
They fell into close formation, a single-file line aimed to pass over the enemy cruiser as they launched their ordinance. As the meters clicked down more rapidly, the nearest threesome of alien warships started to take notice of the approaching threat.
As the various turrets swiveled to track the tiny interceptors, the mk-15s broke formation, scattering before they could take unnecessary losses.
In unison, all the fighters released their Rapier missiles, guided by a powerful laser projected by one of the over watch. In sequence the Swifts also dropped their Stilettos.
The aft sections of the mighty cruiser blossomed as over eighteen bombs broke through the weakened hull and exploded on the inside.
Not able to stick around to watch their work come together, the three squads arced downward over the cruiser as they flew past it, diving down back to earth rather then leave themselves in the open.
Three of the eighteen, however, were taken out by the gunner on the twin destroyers before they could complete their maneuvers. The survivors completed their loop and blasted back towards their motherships.
Having its aft armored plating split open and the fuel lines ruptured by the brave efforts of the mk-15 pilots, the mighty Plys’Iea cruiser shuddered as internal explosions tore at its superstructure.
As was common among space-faring vessels, the hvy. Cruiser had little-to-no glide-factor whatsoever. And its bow dipped as it plunged toward the Inner Sea below.
The captain of one of the pursuit craft sighed contently, as the flaming wreck that used to be a big threat plummeted to its demise. His reverie was interrupted when his personal holo-pad warmed up and displayed a color-shifting orb.
“As per Admiral Satith’s orders, twelve orbital-launch cruise missiles have been fired... Target staggering protocols have assigned two missiles per Plys’Iea destroyer.” The AI droned on, “New orders, Captain. Mission timer added to tactical analysis, further staggering protocols initiated.”
A ticking timer appeared on the lower right corner of the holo-display. “Cruise missiles six through eight on stand-by drift until hostile Hvy. Cruiser class vessels are eliminated.”
The captain nodded and the AI retreated. As he gave the updates to his men the captain thought to himself. Man, I know that thing’s a computer program, but it would be nice if it didn’t talk like some primitive listmaker.....
The Metal Mallet
Aug 8 2007, 12:37 AM
Good to see Satith did something reasonable. Keep it up.
Aug 8 2007, 09:36 PM
Since when has Mute Testimony done something under the authorization of an organic? lol, wink
Aug 13 2007, 04:53 AM
Okay, now the High Naryyn's fears about unrestricted AIs are validated..... They can be assured that as long as undeniable logic is obeyed that they will not need to meditate with a gun in their hands.
Within the digital database of the Armet’s AI core, Construct 853-702 paused in his work to acknowledge the presence of his “son.” The younger AI transferred his intents to its elder faster than conventional speaking could possibly accomplish.
The codes of computerized language passed through their AI laser matrix at the speed of light. Construct 853-702 hesitated for a full three seconds, an eternity in the world of artificial intelligence.
Then it gave the equivalent to a digital nod for a go-ahead. With its query answered positively, Mute Testimony receded. Construct 853-702 waited another cyber-eternity before returning to its work, as if waiting for a sense of foreboding to fill its “mind,” but no such emotion existed in its cybernetic world.Marthyn
While he was certain he could cripple the dropship with only his powers at his disposal, Marthyn considered a head-on clash with the alien harbinger of death vehicle just as suicidal as the run-for-better-cover option.
” He reached out, admitting to himself that this situation was dire enough that he needed help. But he felt nothing, not even the woman’s presence.Great, she left me to die again!
Marthyn fumed, reality sinking in. He was all alone in the heart of enemy territory, which was also in the middle of a freezing nowhere, how could he get out of this alive?
Suddenly, every kind of alarm and siren started blaring over the audio projectors around the base. The gunship floated into view from over the crate Marthyn was hugging.
But the craft just hovered as if the crew was confused; Marthyn took the opportunity to move toward higher ground. Leaping onto the top of one stack of storage crates, the psionist scanned the small valley.
A chain of explosions ran across the entire facility, overloading power generators, he surmised. Sudden motion to his right caused him to turn.
Dozens of STA turrets swiveled and opened fire on the gunships in the air. Marthyn didn’t know what was going on, but he went with saboteur and silently thanked whoever was at the heart of this.
Jumping down to the ground again, the High Naryyn warrior sprinted as fast as he could multiplied by the psionist armor.
As Marthyn scrambled up the embankment, no less than thirty flashes of light and thunder cracks through the air. He spun to look back, and saw the hovering fleet of warships descend and fire upon their own base defenses to cease the firing of the vertical launch rockets tearing through them.
The reptilian shrieks of the Plys’Iea echoed throughout the valley, and Marthyn could not turn away from the spectacle even as he backed away from the base.
What finally drew his attention away from the fighting was the approach of five lightly armored recon tanks. The display at his back emboldened Marthyn to fight the opposition head-on, deal some damage of his own.
Even as small machine guns locked on, the psionist stood firm preparing himself for the task at hand. Sweeping his right arm to the left, Marthyn lifted the rightmost tank off of its left tread and “threw” it into the one directly next to it.
Two of the tanks paused to assess the situation while the third fired its anti-infantry gun. Marthyn dodged to the right, keeping just ahead of the trailing rounds.
The two others had who had hesitated locked on with their light artillery and fired...... only to have the rounds explode prematurely within the cannons.
A quiet, but strong voice echoed in Marthyn’s mind. “You didn’t think I really left you to die after going through the effort of saving you, did you?
“Well, thank you. I won’t be so quick to expect abandonment next time you ignore me when I can't see you.
” Marthyn replied lending his strength to the more experienced psionist.
The remaining tank suddenly ceased moving and the Plys’Iea struggling to escape their inert vehicles went limp seconds after. Marthyn felt them as their thoughts and emotions came to an abrupt end.
A few paces away from him, the seer shed her invisibility. “It will take awhile for the Plys’Iea to recover and get over the initial paranoia, but we have to leave now before more than a few tanks find us.”
Without a word, Marthyn nodded and followed close behind her.Mute Testimony
The Plys'Iea command network was in complete disarray, clearly they were unprepared for an infiltration by a High Naryyn Artificial Intelligence. The AI that was the source of all this havok felt something akin to pride wash over him.
Before the Plys'Iea could stop him, Mute Testimony hacked half of their secure files pertaining to the war effort and this mysterious operation going on. All of this was taking place while 75% of the power grid overloaded and was blown to atoms.
Leaving just enough power for the mainframe and automated defenses to function. As said "defenses" were disentegrated, Mute Testimony detonated the surviving power plants accordingly to keep the facilities close to the brink of complete blackout.
As the Plys'Iea engineers and technicians attempted to flee from the destruction, the automated anti-infantry guns took aim and bathed the pristine snow in blue blood. The data hack continued, even as Mute Testimony slaved his task compacity to the limit in hundred of different areas.
The network of the Plys'Iea forces was a copy-cat of the High Naryyn they'd leeched so many other technologies from. The variations were not enough to stop the digital hacker from bending its infrastructure to his will.
The AI finally slowed down after twenty-three minutes and thirty-two seconds. The mess that had been a fully functioning battle-field and administration network was in complete shambles. All the secrets the Plys'Iea had hidden in their ship-based and facility-side databases was now known to Mute Testimony.
From the first encounter between the reptilian aliens and the ancient Naryyn before true civilization had dawned on their homeworld to the purpose of this facility in Tamrielic Skyrim and the role it would play if it was completed.
Mute Testimony retreated from the Plys'Iea mainframe, he had all the intel his High Naryyn creators would need to achieve victory, but not all of it needed to be revealed..... not yet.
The Metal Mallet
Aug 13 2007, 05:51 AM
Hehe, how fortunate for Marthyn.
Aug 24 2007, 05:35 PM
Sorry for the wait, but I have to work on summer reading project, as well as other distractions (YouTube). I also apologize for the shortness.....
2 hours later
Sam collapsed onto the sand of Vvardenfell, never in his relatively short life, had he absolutely despised water more than right now.
The lieutenant heaved and coughed out seawater, “If someone..... ever tells me to swim again,.... I will shoot them!” He continued to cough intermittently, but failed in getting rid of the salt water he’d swallowed.
Twenty-five kilometers from the shoreline of Vvardenfell, that’s where he’d ended up, the current had been working against him the entire way.
Second Lieutenant Tyson sat up, attempting to slow his erratic breathing. His flight suit was soaked and many extra components had been ditched in the process of fighting the current. Sam's eyes still burned slightly, and his vision was blurry.
He wiped the sand off of his face and raked his wet hair to rid it as well. Some time later, the lieutenant was able to stumble up the hill and to the ruined outpost on top.
Nearly forty-five minutes had passed since the chaos had abruptly come to an end. Marching through the rubble, the war chief stopped to gaze at the mutilated corpses of a good percentage of the technicians and engineers that had been fleeing to safety.
The thought of running didn’t matter to her, they were not warriors, therefore they weren’t meant to throw away their lives in confronting the enemy, but what did infuriate her was the image of these individuals being cut down like animals as they fled.
The prospect was too reminiscent to one Naryyn warrior slaughtering thousands of primitive Plys’Iea, which mocked of all the successes and strengths they had made since then.
Turning her head so she could look at her aide with her one eye, she hissed. “I want every fatality and survivor accounted for. They will not be merciful if we fail our duty here.”
The young aide bowed his snake like head and departed. With her assistant away, the war leader left the corpses, scanning the valley. She drew up her one and a half foot long, flexible neck to its full length so she could see farther.
Numerous smoke towers rose from throughout the valley base, the remaining fleet was descending, ship-to-ship communications were impossible aside from light signals so the ship commanders grounded their vessels in order to reorganize.
The war chief growled angrily as she approached the flats where the fleet was landing. Had the Plys’Iea been a warm-blooded race, her blood would burn like magma in the heart of a volcano ready to erupt in savage fury.
They will pay for this mockery; I will not be made into a fool..... She promised herself.
Light pooled around the front of the Legionnaire mobile armor. Kyle Thane furiously typed on the two different keyboards on his left and right.
His face was set with concentration; both his eyes were narrowed slightly to focus on the screens around the pilot’s seat. Few technical things were imperatives to a member of the 885th, but your mobile armor was one of those things you had to devote yourself to.
Thane was so focused he only knew that Rhys was watching him closely because he’d seen her there before he’s started. “Fusion core in mid-condition, the suit will last three months of sporadic strain before the core goes into the red, and six months before running out of power.”
Thousands of lights flashed over his eyes in a matter of seconds, but the High Naryyn didn’t blink or slow down in the least. “Armor is in premium condition, the old chassis was probably swapped eight months ago and this unit hasn’t seen any real action since.....”
Kyle continued muttered out the details in the same mechanical, monotonic, sub-vocalization. The lieutenant was hardly aware he was actually speaking; not even at his incessant pace did he register any shortness of breath.
Then after five more minutes, Third Lieutenant Kyle Thane finally finished the systems check on his new mobile armor. He suddenly forced the consoles away from his chest and took a deep breath.
Now that the diversions were out of the way, he noticed the warm sweat in his hair and on his face. Wiping the sweat on his uniform’s sleeve, he looked up at Rhys...... to find Revan standing beside her in front of the Legionnaire’s cockpit.
When did he get here? As he thought this, both Iso Naryyn stopped their inaudible conversation to glance at the pilot. The lights around his chair were baking him, and the sweat he’d wiped away had already returned.
Without speaking to the other two, Thane switched deactivated the armor and jumped out of the cockpit. Kyle ran his hand through his scalp to scratch the itch that had developed.
“Well, I’ll see you both in the morning I suppose, unlike some people, I can’t meditate, I have to sleep.” He said.
“We have a spare bed in our quarters, you can sleep there tonight.” Rhys replied courteously.
Lieutenant Thane paused, wondering if they had read his mind and knew he didn’t have any quarters of his own. Then he simply shrugged; no use refusing help when you needed it..... unless you were trying to impress someone.
Despite being a comely enough woman, Rhys didn’t enter the category. “Alright,” Kyle muttered nodding to them.
It was only half-surprising, to Thane, that Revan and Rhys were sharing a room with a whole family of other Iso Naryyn. As the three entered the room, the two brothers, both around the eel-tee’s age, and their parents stirred from their sitting positions.
I wonder when good old sleeping went out of style..... Kyle Thane thought to himself. Thankfully, introductions weren’t asked and he didn’t have to memorize names before lying down.
Aug 24 2007, 08:34 PM
I like the description of the suit's mechanisms and condition.
Aug 28 2007, 03:12 AM
Well, here's a peek at the future, nothing too spoilerish..... but a future event none-the-less.
When Thane went to bed, Revan decided to wait awhile longer before settling down to meditate. Rhys watched him leave, but did not get up to join him or stop him. He walked to the Emphatic Justice
’s hanger, and down the ramps the High Naryyn had placed so they could move equipment and personnel.
The sand crunched beneath his boots, and the breeze carried the heavy scent of salt water. Faintly, he could sense the mudcrabs lying still on the shore and scuttling about in search of food.
Revan could feel the insatiable hunger of the Slaughterfish as they scanned the water erratically. The Naryyn aboard the Emphatic Judgment
were some much a part of him that they felt as though they were all within arms’ reach despite the greater distance.
Settling onto a slab of rock protruding diagonally out of the ground, Revan closed his eyes and relaxed, his heart slowed down, his muscles eased their tension, and his thoughts came more gently.
Meditation was used by the Iso Naryyn as an alternative to sleep, by meditating, one could remain border-line conscious while retaining a psychic awareness of what was going on around himself/herself at.
In this way, it was sleep, but without the disadvantages of letting your guard down or remaining asleep for too long.
For several minutes, Revan was completely motionless, appearing to be more statue than a living being. However, the peace suddenly came to an end......
He felt nothing, as if everything had fallen out of existance, leaving only himself. The only faint trace to his reality that was tangible was the psychic link connecting him to Rhys.
But he lost awareness of the bond as well, his attention held by what played before his eyes. The sky was filled with black storm clouds, lighting arced from one cloud to another, and the thunder was so loud that many small, loose objects shook.
Revan looked around; he was in the middle of a five-lane street, in the middle of a large, but deserted city. Something was wrong, and in a few moments he knew what it was.
He had no visible or tangible form, Revan could see, hear, and smell, but not speak or touch.
As if I were meant to witness something but nothing more.
That conclusion made more sense as Revan moved through the ravaged alleyways and streets. The disembodied Naryyn studied the ruined structures...... and the alien bodies that littered the ground.
While the deceased creatures were all different species, Revan found the multitude of lethal afflictions that probably lead to their deaths.
A tall, quadruped alien with a dome-like head looked like it had been ripped apart by animal claws and had a nasty bite wound to its short neck.
Another, a humanoid, was hanging limply from a pole he had been impaled with, the pole was leaning to the side looking like the alien had fallen on it upon its death.
The fatalities went on and on, Revan gave up gleaning more information from the corpses and drifted onward.
He kept going until he heard something other than the near explosive thunder claps. Shifting his gaze, Revan spotted five individuals clad in what looked similar to High Naryyn marine armor.
But the plating was thinner, their visors designed to offer a broader field of vision. All five had double-edged blades attached to their gauntlets.
Of the group, three had their blades locked forward ready to carve through anything that stood in their way, the two others had theirs swiveled back to allow their hands freedom to wield other weaponry.
The sun’s rays pierced the oppressive cloud cover to shine upon the High Naryyn warriors. The two with what Revan assumed were some form of advanced railgun, had both point and rearguard positions while the others were scattered loosely.
The rifleman on point, he assumed was the squad leader, changed his path from the center of the street to the left side, his head tilted to inspect on of the bodies.
Revan followed the High Naryyn’s gaze and realized what had caught the soldier’s attention. One of the corpses wasn’t dead after all, it was a Virtarak.
The Iso Naryyn wondered where the rest of the avian alien’s comrades were, they would never leave a brother behind unless the odds were so far against them that they knew they were throwing away their lives to help him.
From where he was looking the alien was in a very bad way, his chest plate was blown open, and one of his legs was gone. Revan knew it was as good as dead, it was hardly conscious anyway.
Perhaps, having identical thoughts to the unseen witness, the squad leader crouched down inside the alien’s view and his/her right arm blade swung into position and clicked as it locked into position.
The Virtarak emitted a low growl, his head managing to lift half an inch off of the pavement to look into the soldier’s visor. In a moment it lost its strength and its head fell back to the ground.
One of the sword-wielders stepped closer, presumably speaking over the squad’s private frequency, thus, Revan was not privy to the conversation.
Add to that, he wasn’t actually present to whatever was happening, so he couldn’t access their thoughts either. The squad leader looked back down at the mortally wounded alien.
Then the blade slashed through the dying creature’s neck. Before the decapitated head could roll away, the High Naryyn snatched it out of the air as quickly as one release a breath.
The sword-wielder that had approached swung his/her blade back so he/her could pick up the Virtarak’s pistol. As the soldier inspected the weapon, the squad leader placed the Virtarak’s head on its bloodied chest.
As he watched, Revan decided that the squad leader was a woman, just from the slow, careful way she moved while working with the Virtarak.
She swung her blade back and rose from the corpse, one of the blade-wielders approached. The soldier clasped his gauntlets together, lacing his fingers, his blades forming a crude focusing technique. As the psionist started the Virtarak's funeral pyre...... then everything became hazy and indistinct.....
Sep 8 2007, 10:35 AM
Sorry, I guess I didn't notice it that far down the line.
Ok, the vision was interesting to me though also confusing as heck. (In a good way.)
The change in armour-design is a neat touch that tells things are different without making it too blunt. And the storms, clouds. Maybe the Narynn and their allies remained behind till the Oblivion crisis at which point they got massacred by Dagon's horde?
Sep 8 2007, 04:58 PM
Well, I've added the [SpecOps] troopers to the Archives as well as their hybrid blades. *Spoiler, kind of* But no, this vision doesn't take place on Nirm, but a different world and decades later (not that Revan or anyone else know that).
The High Naryyn soldiers are a new branch of High Naryyn "black operations," but they are more than just boys and girls with better armor and better tools to throw at the enemy. They and the Titans are the signs of a new agenda by the High Naryyn.
Sep 17 2007, 03:09 AM
Excellent atmosphere here, Lord R. The foreshadowing is wonderfully framed by the environmental setting- I hope you will grace us with another update soon.... (please?)
Sep 17 2007, 04:03 AM
Hey, I believe this is a first Treydog!
Yeah, I was intending to post something today, but failed due to my friend being over. I should be able to post something tommorow after school. [Been making the roster for the Special Ops troopers, just need to finish the service records and polish it off, and then I( can add it to the Archives.
Sep 18 2007, 03:54 AM
Rhys flew down the cargo ramp, her boots digging into the sand as she landed. She had known exactly when the vision began, now Revan’s obsession over it was so vivid that it added curiosity to Rhys’ concern.
Revan appeared, his eyebrows stitched together in concentration, as if attempting to summon back the images through sheer force of will.
He stopped beside her, shut his eyes, and sighed heavily. Any of the normal words a woman would say now weren’t of any use; words only went so far, so Rhys said nothing.
“May I interject?” The mental voice brought all of other reality crashing down on them. Rhys looked over her shoulder at the ancient being; suddenly aware that, even though none of them were present, all of the Naryyn on the Emphatic Judgment were roused from their peaceful meditation as the repercussions of Revan’s brooding spread through the collective group mind they all shared.
It was akin to a pebble splashing in a pond, displacing the overall body. If you weren’t careful, then whatever insecurities or troubles you had were made know to everyone around you.
Severin addressed those within Emphatic Judgment. “Return to your rest, brothers and sisters, this matter needn’t disturb you all.”
In the periphery of their awareness, Revan and Rhys felt the others relax again and go back to their own matters. The ascendant turned to face them, exuding unshakable authority mingled with a sense of paternal care.
“So, you are the ones who fought alongside Commander Xaries, the ones who infiltrated the Loyalists’ stronghold in Skyrim, and are responsible for the deserters’ existance, and by extension, our alliance during this conflict?”
Rhys was taken aback, she hadn’t realized it, but everything Severin said was true; she had just never thought about what they’d done over the last couple of weeks like other Naryyn saw it.
Revan nodded, “We had help from Darhun of the Marhun Kar, as well as the High Naryyn themselves.”
Neither could tell if the Ascendant was pleased or not by their answer, but Severin replied. “It is not often that some so young have accomplish so much. It has inspired all in the fleet to know that we’ve found individuals such as yourselves have survived to be found.”
Both of them nodded, not knowing how to reply to such praise. Noticing this immediately, Severin ended the short silence. “From which clans are you two descended?”
Rhys glanced at Revan, wondering about the visions he had. You couldn’t be one of them..... or am I just not accepting it?
Easily picking up on the internal banter, the Ascendant nodded to himself more than them. Revan gave a start, it had never occurred to him either, but now it made sense.
“You have the Seers’ sight, and yet you can’t use it at will.” Severin said quietly, his eyes narrowing to thin silver slits, thinking deeply.
Revan could feel the Ascendant sift through his mind, but didn’t stop him, giving conscious permission to Severin.
The ancient being did not seem surprised to find the bond between Revan and Rhys; he’d probably already detected it. But he did give a start to was the faint memories Revan had about his parentage.
The two thin lines burst back into their typical flaming display, even without their experience with Ascendants’ “facial expressions,” Severin radiated his shock and momentary confusion.
“Unbelievable….” He let out, had he been flesh and blood, he would have exhaled it. Severin’s uncertainty dissolved, no matter who Revan, or Rhys for that matter, were, he could not reveal his own connection to Nara and Syran.
With his composure back, the Ascendant spoke again. “This is quite a revelation,[i]” He returned his gaze back to Revan and Rhys. “[i]I must think over this before we can continue. I shall see you both again soon.”
That said; Severin left the couple, his mind freely brooding over what he had learned.....
His brows knit together as the Ascendant disappeared. Rhys gazed at him, “There’s something that has him insecure around us.”
Revan nodded, “If he doesn’t think we need to know then we probably don’t, or we’ll find out.”
No officer in the command center let out relieved breaths after the last Plys’Iea craft was shot down, for now they had to check the rosters to confirm units as MIA, send salvage detachments to the ruined outposts, and .
But the fighting men and women were able to appreciate some revelry, the marines celebrated humbly inside their fireteams, battalions, and squads.
While the rank-and-file tamely clapped each other over the pauldrons, talked with each other, and pounded gauntlets and breastplates, the Legionnaires were much showier in their celebration.
The heavily armored irregulars danced about, using their thruster packs to spin and accomplish in-suit acrobatics impossible to pull off otherwise.
Alien music played loudly over their external speakers for all to endure. The marines nearest to them moved slightly more eagerly to get back to the staging grounds.
Xaries didn’t order the Legionnaires to stand down in their celebratory routine, there wasn’t any point. Better to let them burn off their excess energy now and not have to deal with it later.
Inwardly, the commander knew better, the 885th never ran out of energy if they could help it.
Emergency Imperial Council Session, Planet Tracâdus, 32:64
“With the exception of Fleet Admirals: Satith, Trayus, and Harlem, everyone is here, and the emergency session may now commence.” The spokesman of the council announced from the center of the circular chamber.
If an outsider were to describe the Structure from which the largest empire in the history of known civilization, they would comment on the general brightly lit, and spacious atmosphere.
But then, only High Naryyn ever touched the surface of the Empire’s cradle. And of those many, only the highest individuals and their entourage could set foot in the Palace of the Patriarchs.
All of the chambers and corridors were filled with the blue holographic lighting and reflections from the gold architecture. Three Patriarchs hovered around the central island were the spokesman and controllers of holographics, while the council sat around the circumference of the chamber.
One of the Patriarchs, Valance, addressed the council members. “As we all know, the insurgents have attacking every border colony and the domains of the loyalists.”
“However,” He said, casting his gaze over his fellow hierarchs. “There have been some major developments on a world far beyond our borders.”
“First of which, is the confrontation with a fleet of the Fallen.” All of the council, and the other Patriarchs shot Valance an incredulous look, or gave a start at the news.
“Second, it would seem that Commander Xaries, leader of the expeditionary force that discovered the planet, has gone rogue, allying himself with the Dark Naryyn and taking much of his expedition with him.”
“At the moment, the alliance has been more inclined to fight off the insurgents than make war with Admiral Satith’s troops, but that does not mean that they are harmless.” Valance looked to his fellow Patriarchs.
“In addition, the insurgents have been confirmed, they are the race we until recently called our honor guards.” Again, the others became shocked into silence, then their anger returned.
“There is also a new alien species that is allied with the Dark Naryyn and their conspirators.”
Life-sized images of the Virtarak, and the Iso Naryyn appeared around the central island. Patriarch Valance, lowered himself to hover beside a particular Iso Naryyn warrior, one clad in crimson armor.
“This is the individual that is believed to have personally corrupted Commander Xaries, many of our loyalists have claimed there is something unique about him, but there is one more important point I wish to emphasize.”
The eldest Patriarch nodded, “You have brought many revelations to us, Brother Valance, speak.”
Valance bowed to the more prominent Patriarch, and continued. “As shocking as the events have been, this is not a crisis, brethren.”
He rose and looked over all in the chamber. “Truly, this is an opportunity, a moment in our people’s grand history that cannot be compared.”
“For we have encountered not one, but three different species, each with their own unique strengths and weaknesses, the Plys’Iea have a powerful war-machine, but they can be driven back in one decisive strike.”
A miniature representation of Nirm popped into existance. “This world is a key point for their campaign, remove this critical element, and we can have the time necessary to assimilate their unique technology.”
Wahn, Valance’s senior, nodded to himself, understanding the proposal. He held both hands as if to evaluate the options. “The Fallen are few, but they are cunning, and are not to be underestimated even if cornered and outmatched.”
“The Plys’Iea are difficult to overpower, their will to win is unmatched, and even our mightiest warships are not completely superior to their own.” The Elder looked back to Valance.
“What merit do these avians have? They are neither masterful strategists nor individually strong.....”
Valance explained, “While not particularly appealing, the Virtarak do have something unique.”
“Their leadership is obsessed with natural selection, willing to manipulate themselves in order to ensure their survival. They are peerless geneticists, the Virtarak know more about chemical stimulation and genetic engineering than any other race.”
“Building upon our own selves....” The third Patriarch muttered under his breath.
“You’ve made a compelling case, Patriarch, the council will deliberate, and then this course’s fate will be decided.” Valance smiled triumphantly after exiting the chamber.....
The Metal Mallet
Sep 18 2007, 06:33 AM
Ooo, more intrigue. Looks like more problems will be coming Nirn's way.
Sep 23 2007, 06:06 AM
A little less action, but partial enlightenment on the some fronts should be appropriate compensation, right?
Severin stood on the edge of the town on Sadrith Mora, in a great many years the Ascendant had not felt so apprehensive. So, Syran truly did accomplish the first step in her plan. And Nara is here, then so shall Syran and this Markus.
The Ascendant felt a sense of foreboding about the warrior, Revan. If all that Syran foretold does come to pass then this one will be the instrument with which Naryyn will be brought together again. But he could just as well be the seed from which all that our respective races have built will be undone.....
Forces and sentient wills were at work here in a volatile battle. Severin knew there could be no unity without an instrument, but by setting this all in motion!
He would have sighed had he still been able, All of us must be tested. All those who have stood against us will rally for a final attempt to vanquish us at our single weakest and strongest time
The thought of everything falling apart left the Ascendant hollow, he should report this to Lord Astratus, he should give Revan the knowledge to prepare for what was coming.
“No!” Severin commanded himself. "No, the future is unstable enough without tampering with it further."
Several minutes passed, then he had a thought. Surely, Nara can still connect to me, time has no meaning where such links are concerned.
Tentatively, at first Severin sent a passive pulse and waited. Nothing.
This time he made a more determined effort, spreading his awareness farther than Vvardenfell, across the Inner Sea, ignoring all the insignificant souls who kept him from his goal.
Then the Ascendant felt his probe brush against her mind, and then her tracking his influence back to him.
He didn’t notice the seer has halted until he felt the sudden rush of psychic activity and emotion behind him. Marthyn turned enough to look at his traveling companion.
She was looking away from him, to the east, to Morrowind. In the brief time he’d been under her wing, he’d learned that if she was going to tell him something then she would do it on her own accord, not his. So Marthyn remained silent and scanned the surrounding area for any threats or stragglers from the city.
Then he felt something odd, twin presences rapidly approaching them. The High Naryyn spun back around to spot two Ascendants hovered above, looking down on him.
One blazed gold, while the other was silver. Marthyn instantly recognized the High Ascendant, “You!” The psionist snarled furiously, taking two steps toward him.
“Marthyn.” The apparition replied in a colder form of hostility. Then, suddenly, Marthyn was launched forty meters to his left. He slammed into another hill of snow, the impact and shock of the attack dazing him somewhat.
Norik, the Dominance
Sitting in his quarters, the envoy brooded over the past. Over the course of this conflict, he had begun to reexamine his position and himself more and more. A trickle of memories flowed through his mind.
Zedrah had died two and a half years after Xarkum had been born. Norik frowned, looking at his seal, a oval shaped badge with an intrcate carved figure on it.
He’d been entertaining the idea of becoming an envoy to heighten his family’s standing within the Cradle.
At first Zedrah had agreed, seeing as such prestige would be invaluable, it would be carried down to Xarkum’s children, and there descendants.....
He clasped his hand around the badge, lifted it closer to inspect. Then his wife along with Xaries pointed out that being an emissary would leave him to room to raise Xarkum or be with his family at all.
Norik’s grip tightened on the emblem, his throat clenched, and the flood gates split open. Unable to argue against such a valid point, Norik had begun to withdraw his application.....
Then it all changed, not two days later did the I'caadsi Insurgency begin. The rest of the details were murky to him, but now that Norik looked back and seen most everything for a second time...
After the conflict, after Zedrah was gone, he had tossed aside his withdrawl and vowed to do all he could to turn this around for him and Xarkum.
Xaries, he’d warned him against this, but not even his brother’s advice stopped him. The training, indoctrination, and the things he had to learn to become a voice of the council changed him. Norik had forsaken Xarkum, left Xaries to raise the boy in his place.
The envoy slammed the emblem into the desk violently, leaving a slight scratch on its surafce. What had begun for the good of his family had been corrupted to isolate him from them. Both his hands were clenched into fists with his head hanging above and between them. But finally, Norik lost the battle to hold back the remorse and pain.
Sep 23 2007, 04:09 PM
And so we learn more about Norik, and Norik learns more about himself. Wow, now I'm actually feeling sorry for the guy.
Oct 10 2007, 10:00 PM
Does anyone notice anything about the new character's name, or the companions she mentions?
Fleet Admiral Tobias Satith looked through the polarized viewing station on the Armet's bridge, in the distant darkness he could see the squads of mk-15s flying patrol and the remains of his fleet hovering over the alien landscape.
All of his vessels were given away in the near blackness by the pulsing, electric-blue power conduits that curved along their hulls. Satith turned away from the vista, striding past his crew and out of the bridge. The admiral let the present conflict go for the moment and allowed for his mind to wander.
He remembered vividly the first time he’d killed another sentient, another trainee. The heat from his blades, the perspiration on his face and back, and the smoke curling from the other hopeful’s side and throat... The defeated look on her face.....
Finally, he passed through a uniquely designed door and into the sanctum of the psionist battleragers. The warriors who were meditating opened their eyes and watched as their superior walked past; those who were practicing their combat skills paused briefly to acknowledge his presence before continuing.
These men and women were the pinnacle of psionic techniques in war and mastery of stirring the maelstrom of battle in their favor. Lesser psionists were scattered around, ranging from a century or two and a half in age.
Admiral Satith reflected on how he’d started training, before becoming a commander. His widower of a father had relinquished him to the officials at the age of nine, possibly so he could have a chance but more likely to relieve himself of the burden of raising a son after losing his wife.
Whatever the reason, the admiral-to-be had been a candidate to ease the shortage of professional psionists and officers in the field. He could remember the endless, back to back demands of physical and psychic aptitude even when he and the others could hardly stand or struggle to remain conscious.
Over half of the others had been washed out, too wrecked by the strain on mind and body. Tobias still remembered his last night with Vivian, how she refused to stop muttering about everything from her bunk beside him.
What she had said about her life before being taken by the marines on the frontier, and especially what she’d confessed to him. “I wanted to say it so many times, but I couldn’t, now my time’s up.”
Satith didn’t say anything; he’d just laid there in the darkness. That must have been the end of the last cord Vivian had to sanity, because she’d started sobbing bitterly. The psychic inhibitors had probably been the only thing that kept him from being crushed by the sheer magnitude of her grief.
Tobias sat down on one of the meditation pedestals; he hadn’t grieved for Vivian, ever. Not even felt any particular remorse for being the willing executioner. Satith wasn’t certain whether he would be satisfied if he could feel a small measure of regret for killing his former friend like he had... She had been sincere in her confession, but I felt nothing along those lines for her.
For the first time, he decided to look back on his decision. There was the obvious outcome to refusing the order from his superiors; one of the others would have been saddled with the task.
But what if I had answered her? If I had felt the same just never realized it. Tobias Satith massaged his temples with his left thumb and index finger.
I could have tried to intervene, but then nothing would have changed other than both of us being dead... He sighed, Vivian had died too long ago, he’d need a soothsayer to have any idea of whatever future they could have had, if any.
Fleet Admiral Satith let his hindsight go, the past was impossible to change, he couldn’t reconcile with the first being he’d ever killed. Tobias let go of any thoughts Vivian and allowed the strong, serene atmosphere around him to flood his mind.
Marthyn, Skyrim tundra
Shaking off the cold, he rolled to his feet with a grunt. The snow had cushioned his impact, aside from being very far from where he needed to be Marthyn was unharmed. Nara was moving by now; vanishing and appearing in such a way that she could have been teleporting. But neither Markus nor Syran were letting her get too far ahead of them.
Energy and psionic attacks are useless against them, Ascendants are nigh-invincible that way. Marthyn recalled, "A good physical attack might stun them, but it won't accomplish anything in the long run...”
He suddenly looked skyward as thirteen Plys’Iea Vipers hurtled down toward them. The three other combatants noticed the incoming threat as well, and thankfully set their fight aside.
“This is a chance to disengage, we’d best use it!” He said to Nara, who nodded from a distance. Within moments the fighters were in their maximum weapons range.
There was a flash and five of the Plys’Iea fighters burst into hundreds of fragments. Marthyn didn’t have time to be surprised diving to dodge the hail of chain gun fire and energy pulses.
As he hunkered down on the side of a nearby hill, three dark emerald mobile armors appeared from the north. Marthyn recognized models like them sitting around that northern facility.
Did they find us this fast, or is there such a thing as bad luck?
The fighters aborted their attack early; whatever had shot down the first five was still at it. During the moment of respite, he watched as one of the mobile armors approached the glowing Ascendants.
Nara vanished a final time as both her attackers were forced to shift their attention. Marthyn was surprised to see the mech mostly unaffected even under the combined psionic and energy based attacks Markus and Syran threw at it.
Then the seer came into view beside him, her dark grey complexion pale and sweatied by exertion. He didn’t ask if she was all right, nor say they make themselves scarce again.
This is the first time I’ve seen her tired, or anything other than sagely and prophetic. Without a word, they left the new battlefield as the shrapnel from the destroyed Vipers began hailing down.
Heat radiated from the barrel of her coil gun and plasma-casters. Now that the fighters were no longer grouped up, she had less of a chance of hitting them. Not that there isn’t sport in trying.....
Then she picked up two energy signatures approaching rapidly. Fusion powered, completely automated, they shouldn’t be too tough. She thought as her legs braced, feet grasping deeply into the ice for support.
Experimentally, she fired a single shot from one of her plasma casters. The Plys’Iea hunter-seeker was thrown back by the kinetic force of the plasma bolt, but its armor plating warmed only slightly.
Perhaps I didn’t give these automatons enough credit, they still shouldn’t be anything more than particularly entertaining target practice.
The thunderous crack of her coil gun echoed over the tundra, the other hunter-seeker was struck in the shoulder, the hyper-velocity projectile punched a hole big enough that it ripped the mech’s shoulder from its torso.
Well, it’s fast, I’ll give it that. But not fast enough to dodge a hyper-velocity sniper shot to the upper torso. Despite the damage, the wounded hunter-seeker recovered and began charging again, now its partner had gotten up as well.
Against her typical preference, Gungnir, moved to meet their charge. Her heavy coil gun detached, its bulk only deadweight in a close quarters fight.
She focused on the left hunter-seeker, firing several bolts until both weapons were rendered useless from the abuse. Her target heated ten degrees; steam rolled off its armor as the accumulated frost evaporated, but continued its charge. The right one was closing as well, galloping on all fours.
With her hands free, the lone Naryyn mobile armor prepared for the melee. Acheron and Kusanagi might be the close range experts, but I'm no push-over either, you automatons.
Oct 10 2007, 10:17 PM
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.
Oct 11 2007, 01:09 AM
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...
Oct 11 2007, 07:27 PM
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.
Oct 19 2007, 02:19 AM
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.
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.
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.
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.
Oct 19 2007, 09:03 PM
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.
Oct 22 2007, 03:40 PM
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.
Nov 10 2007, 06:59 AM
“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.....
Nov 11 2007, 08:54 PM
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.
Jan 3 2008, 02:22 AM
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.
Jan 4 2008, 11:14 PM
So....Marthyn is basically learning to blend in? Is he being trained to become an infiltrator?