Enigmatik

Pilgrim's Caravan: An Open-Ended Fantasy (with Worldbuilding!)

I'll finish tweaking Malleck at some point this weekend and get him submitted.

Pilgrim's Caravan: An Open-Ended Fantasy (with Worldbuilding!)

@Katakuri She can hitch a ride on Malleck’s staff!

Pilgrim's Caravan: An Open-Ended Fantasy (with Worldbuilding!)

Always happy to see you around Tort. A basic idea thrown onto a WIP character sheet.

Character Sheet

Malleck

Race, Age, Time in the Caravan:
Malleck belongs to the Ainok- a race of humanoid canines indigenous to Alywne's savannahs and deserts, with significant variety between individual specimens. A quick way to irritate almost all of them is to mistake them for Gnolls, their bitter enemies. He's young for most races, at 20, but reached maturity five years prior, and has been travelling with the caravan for three years.

Appearance:
Malleck has dusty fur, blotched with natural camoflague in hues that range from sandy khakis to deep blacks, with a noticable cross pattern that stretches from his muzzle to his nose, the crossbar reaching to the ends of his brows. He has a shaggy plume of hair that's been braided and tied with baubles and other accessories in an attempt to tame it, and bright amber eyes with black sclera. He stands at around 5'5", a normal height for Ainoks, with the typical tight-wound muscle. His fur serves double duty to both cool him in warm environments and warm him in cool ones, meaning he usually eschews more clothing than a simple tunic, covered in straps and bags to help him carry anything he needs on the road.

History:
As long or short as you like; just try to give us an idea of who they are.

Personality:
Try to think of how it ties into their history, and into the next section:

Motivation:
Malleck is a classic example of someone filled with wanderlust, and travels both out of a desire to see the world and to imitate the passage the Dancing Star of Otota makes across the skies. He knows not when his wandering will end, or if it even will at all, but is more than happy to stick with the Pilgrim's Caravan for as long as it stops his feet from itching.

Skills, Strengths and Weaknesses, and Tools:
As an open and gleeful follower of Otota, Malleck is expected to be able to bring cheer wherever he wanders. to this end, he has immersed himself in the entertaining arts- music, singing, storytelling and dance. He can work his magic with only a willing audience, but any instrument is obviously a boon. A not-insignificant part of his memory is dedicated to the countless tales he's heard and repeated across his pilgrimage, but for all this knowledge, he is undoubtably rather 'book dumb.' Coming from an oral culture, Malleck can neither read nor write, and he has neither inclination nor patience to dedicate himself to learning how to do so. He also cannot swim and easily and violently becomes motion sick, preferring to walk if at all possible over sitting in a caravan or boat.

As with most long time travellers, Malleck can defend himself, but considers conflict to be a dirty and undivine action, preferring
to laugh off an insult than to take a swing. For self-defence, he prefers anything that can extend his reach, distance between himself and his foe- be that a spear, stave or simply a sufficiently long and durable stick. When it comes to magic, Malleck's powers are extremely limited- he is neither a shaman nor wizard- although he practices the Ainok's typical astronomical fortune-telling and can produce a few minor illusions, mend a broken rope or help seal a small cut, anything greater than this is beyond his abilities.

Optional: Extra Details

What They Most Want:

If They Had a DnD Alignment, It Would Be:
Chaotic Good

Three Likes:

Three Dislikes:

Do They Follow Their Heart or Their Mind?:
Heart! Part of the job, honestly.

Worst Fear:

Favorite Color:

Most Like The Animal:
That is, which animal they are most like- not which one they like the most.

Favorite Time of Day:

How They Dress:

Favorite Season:

What Gods/Spirits/Whatevers They Worship (If Any):
The Ainoks of the savannah worship the stars- which come into view so brightly and clearly each night when the sun sets. They believe that these stars are each Gods in their own right, and that those born under the light and influence of various celestial bodies are favoured or disfavoured by these Gods. Born under the light of the so-called 'Dancing Star,' otherwise known as the Goddess Otota. Being both an incredibly bright star, and one that appears to be the most mobile in the night sky Otota holds a special place within the Ainok pantheon as the Goddess of gaity, enjoyment, fertility, pleasure, and so on and so forth. Malleck considers himself a staunch follower of Otota's light, and it is under her auspex that he travels.

GATEWAYS: THE NEXT GENERATION [CLOSED AND CONCLUDED]

THE GRA WAKES

| A collab between @Irredeemable and @Lady Lascivious |

Boots crunched and business shoes snapped through the halls of the Meeting Place.Four Azulvistan marines, shadowing a stern-looking man. This was not the de-facto spokesperson for the Gran Republic, but instead one of several professional diplomats that had been dispatched to serve as the true arms of the state.

He was unsurprised to find it even more guarded than he. A truly staggering amount of firepower was on display before him, and even his protectors seemed a little intimidated by the showing. Nonetheless, he pressed on, raising a single hand towards them. There was a checkpoint now. That was new.

He approached it formally, drawing out a series of documents from within his business suit. “Rafael Mendoza- official representative of the Gran Republic of Azulvista. I’m here on urgent business.”

A heavily armored Gorgon Strain slithered forward, the heavy weapon cradled in two of her arms with ease while the other two reached out expectantly. “Please present proof of identity, and stand still for scan.”

Proof of identity was happily provided. Inside one of the folders was a detailed document- there had been no agreement on passports or visas between the Republic and Ishtar, and so this was the best they had. Letterheaded with the Azulvistan eagle, it had a full body picture, smaller portrait, and an almost invasive level of detail for full confirmation.

The guard surveyed it for but a moment, cybernetic eyes scanning the documents in rapid succession, before conducting a full body scan of the ambassador for confirmation. Satisfied, she nodded, handing the documents back and moving aside.

Another Ishtari soldier strode forth, Strain indiscernable underneath the armor she - or he - wore. “Please follow me.” He - it was a he then - said, nodding to the Azulvistans, as a squad of similarly armored Ishtari arrived in backup to accompany the group. “Please keep your hands off your arms, any action in contradiction may be interpreted as hostile.”

He lead the group through the station, passing by a small arsenal’s worth of ordnance on the way. The Ishtari embassy of the meeting place was, evidently, prepared for the worst. Where all these weapons had been kept until now was another matter - in the weeks and months prior the entrance had been manned only by two guards in ceremonial uniform, and civilian receptionists. Now it seemed prepared for a full blown siege, and exterior observers would note that its defensive railguns and torpedo bays seemed prepared to open fire on anything that posed a threat.

The Ishtari ambassador waited in her office, fingers neatly steepled at her desk. Scheherazade, the same delegate who had met with the FEU, and with the Chosen during the very first contact, nodded to them. “Ambassador Mendoza. You come at a difficult time.”

Mendoza had taken it in grim-faced. There was little else to do. Azulvista’s protocols were similar, although they wouldn’t quite be escalating to this level of preparedness after their declaration.

Taking a seat before Scheherazade, he removed a datapad from his briefcase and eased himself into position. “I hope to make it significantly less difficult. The Gran Republic has heard the report of the usage of WMDs against civilian targets. This is unacceptable by every metric, and shows New Terra to be rabid dogs in need of putting down. We are going to enter the war.” It wasn’t a request, it was a statement. The Ishtari didn’t need to change any minds.

Scheherazade paused, seeming to need a moment to process the information given to her. “Well, then.” She said after some time, “I am… glad to hear that. We may have had our differences, but against the madness of New Terra, there is only one answer. There can be no negotiation. No compromise against this cancer. Only eradication, swift and uncompromising. We are one on this subject, at least.”

Mendoza adjusted the datapad a little, before placing it on the desk and allowing it to broadcast a small homographic display.

“We can mobilise an initial fleet without compromising the security of Azulvista in less than a month. 50 small vessels, a frigate and 20 heavy vessels. We can also arrange for the mobilisation of 50,000 professional soldiers in a similar timeframe, along with some 230,000 marines along with a classified but large number of special forces. We want to disrupt them rapidly- a breakthrough assault to establish a beachhead while we finish mobilisation. Take control of their gateway and force them onto defence.”

The agreement was made swiftly. Details could be hashed out between military commanders, but the broad brushstrokes were agreed upon. When Mendoza packed up his documents and his datapad, the question was no longer ‘if,’ it was simply ‘when.’

And the answer to that question would come shortly.

---

Marines strode through the halls of the Meeting Place, escorting Alfonso de Caravajal, dressed to the nines in his finest admiralty wear. The procession took their places surrounding a press podium, the diplomat allowing a few pictures before clearing his throat and beginning.

"The current state of the galaxy has not escaped the notice of the Gran Republic. For too long, we have remained silent on the actions certain nations have seen fit to take. Today, we break that silence."

He fluffed the sheet in front of him, gazing out across the gathered witnesses. "The People's Union of New Terra have unilaterally decided to violate not only the conduct of reasonable and peaceful peoples, but have taken a step further, to heedlessly use the same weapons that doomed our home planet. They are waging a war of destruction and terror against their galactic equals, seemingly under the belief that they are the legitimate inheritors to Earth's legacy, and that none will keep them from assuming their lofty yet destined throne."

"They are unequivocally incorrect in this assumption. They have already sown the seeds of terror and devastation. We stand ready to kill this crop before its insidious roots can spread further. From this day forward, the Gran Republic of Azulvista considers itself in a formal state of conflict with the People's Union, and will persue all methods, both military and diplomatic, to bring their wayward and unwarranted actions to a halt. Thank you."

With that, he departed. Nothing more needed to be said.

GATEWAYS: THE NEXT GENERATION [CLOSED AND CONCLUDED]

Azulvista System

Mt Sajama

The nurse's face was impassive. He set the IV drip in place, then gave a few tugs at the leather straps to make sure they were secured tight. He took up a position in the rear of the small interrogation room, before the door swung open and a well-dressed OSE operative entered the room. He took a seat opposite the prisoner, before smiling genially. "Hello there." He rummaged through an office satchel, before taking out a few small electronic instruments and a notebook.

"¿Who the fuck are you?"

The interrogator glanced up for a brief moment, before clearing his throat. Then, he pressed a small button on the first of his instruments, the screen lighting up. He paused for a moment, shifted its position on the table, nodding to himself.

"Interrogation 11 with Rebel Prisoner."

"Interrogation 11?"

The operative paused for a long moment, then turned towards the prisoner. "I'll explain in just a moment." Another genial smile, then he repeated himeslf. "Interrogation 11 with Rebel Prisoner, 2/9/2/600. Prisoner is restrained and short-term memory blocks applied."

"¿Short term WHAT?"

"Ahem. Let us begin." He finally turned back to the prisoner. "I feel confident in saying this because I have explained it to you before, but each time you forget." He chuckled a little. "Don't worry, if I disliked it, I wouldn't do this job." He clicked the end of his pen once, then began to scribble down a few notes, the sound of the pen on the paper deafeningly loud in the otherwise completely silent room.

"The IVs that my assistant there kindly applied to you are some of our most fantastic pharmaceutical advances yet. We know Earth governmwents were experimenting with chemically induced mind control as far back as the 20th century. Now, what they wanted to do was impossible, as far as we can tell, but what we can do would no doubt impress them immensely. Narcosynthesis." He tapped the end of his pen down a few times.

"A suggestive and pliant state wherin the subject's ability to generate short term memory is suppressed. I'm afraid we've talked to each other before now."

The drugs were starting to take effect now. The prisoner seemed to want to react with horror, but he seemed quite incapable of doing so. The interrogator scribbled down more notes.

"So tell me friend, what's your name?"

---

"Interrogation over. Thank you nurse." The man folded his instruments back into his satchel, and rose from his seat, spine clicking into place. With a brief wave to the nurse, he unlocked the heavy, soundproof door and stepped out into the wider facility. He always found sites like this to be so needlessly imposing. It wasn't as if those imprisoned here would not be sufficiently imposed by the guards and enhanced questioning techniques, now would it?

Still. Somebody had to do it. The people in Mt Sajama were terrorists, traitors and enemies of the state. The gusanos ranted about how they swept people off the street in black vans, but that could hardly be further from the truth. The man only saw the worst of the worst. He gave his watch a brief glance, nodding quietly to himself. He had time enough for lunch and some paperwork before his next appointment.

GATEWAYS: THE NEXT GENERATION [CLOSED AND CONCLUDED]

The Azulvistan Embassy: Meeting Place

(A collab between @Irredeemable and @Jeddaven)

"...Well, this certainly reminds me of home." Rachelle quietly said as she stepped into the foyer of the Azulvistan embassy. Empty as it was, she quietly wondered if the dark-paneled wooden walls were just for show, standing out in sharp contrast to every inch of the rest of the station's metals and high-quality carbon fiber. Admiral Briganto nodded, staring up at a television screen showing thousands of soldiers marching down an avenue alongside troops of people on...

Well, she wasn't sure what they were, but they made her think of hoverbikes of some kind.

The Basque Commandant, meanwhile, seemed entirely uninterested in any of the propaganda, merely standing rigidly at attention by the door, clad in a pressed-and-fitted steel grey uniform, much like the darker blue one the admiral wore. At the head of them all stood Rachelle, clad in a more civilian suit, the very same she wore onto the station, a badge of the European flag prominently displayed over her right breast.

Approaching the doors at the end of the foyer, she cleared her throat.

Let's hope my Iberian languages are up to standard. She thought.

"Excuse me! I am Rachelle Livrémont, High Representative for Foreign Affairs of the European Union! I am here seeking a formal diplomatic contact!" She said, speaking in fluent Portuguese, before quickly repeating the same in Spanish.

The Azulvistans had been informed that foreign diplomats were arriving, and had prepared in turn. Alfonso stood at the head of the trio, resplendent in his navyman’s outfit, medals shining on his breast, sword at his hip. Next to him stood Admiral João, a much more stern-faced individual, and to Alfonso’s other side was Maria, the only one of the trio dressed in a business suit rather than a military one, and holding an epad in her hands.

The Admiral perked up at the Portuguese usage, but it was only when she had finished in Spanish that Alfonso responded. “Greetings, Rachelle! I am Duque Alfonso Leoncio Alvarez De Caravajal of Verauga, the formal representative for the Gran Republic here in the Meeting Place. It is a pleasure to meet you, and may I say that your re-introduction to the galactic scene was certainly, well, a scene!” He chuckled to himself, before reaching into a breast pocket and drawing out a fat cigar.

“May I interest any of you in one before we get to business?”

"Ah, well -- that was our intent!" Rachelle smiled, , briefly giving Alfonso a once-over, before glancing back toward Liére -- the woman clad in steel-grey dress. "I don't partake, but Commandant Amenábar does, I believe. Liére?" She asked, and the woman stepped toward, hands folded behind her back at full attention.

"When I get the chance," she said, moving to hold out her hand, "...which, tragically, isn't very often."
Alfonso plucked another cigar out, setting the first between his lips as he retrieved a pocket clipper. It snicked twice, once for the one in his hands, once for the one in his lips, the second for the one between his fingers. He handed it over, then replaced the cutter with the lighter, sparking it to life and offering the flame towards the Commandant.

“So. The Federal European Union.” He said slowly, once smoke was rising into the air. “I, and the rest of my nation, was under the distinct impression that the European Union formally dissolved in 2279.”

“We have records of an attempt to dissolve the European Union around that time period, but our records also indicate that the attempt failed.” Rachelle replied, briefly casting a glance back at the Commandant as she idly puffed away at the cigar.

“If I were a betting woman, I’d say the truth is most likely somewhere in between. We believe we were one of the entities most prepared for the evacuation, for example, based on our records, but data from that time is incredibly fragmentary.”

“We believed something similar. Our colony fleet was equipped with so-called Gaia Seeding technology, designed to build a world up from its base components. We have yet to see another colony that has used the same, or even similar methods.” He turned on his heels, guiding the visitors deeper into the embassy. “So, what was it that brought you to our doors? A friendly hello, or something more?”

“Meeting the neighbors, first and foremost,” Rachelle said, nodding once. “We’ve been informed of the PUNT already, and have expressed that we will be engaging them at the earliest possible opportunity, and with the remaining two-thirds of our fleet once they’re fully mobilized. Furthermore, beyond that, we wanted to reach out to you regarding the possibility of rehabilitating the European landmass,” she paused, briefly glancing back at the Admiral.

“Fully mobilised?” João looked surprised. “You’re going onto full war footing to take care of New Terra? Even with our reports we didn’t think it necessary to go to more than partial mobilisation. Their bark will no doubt be worse than their bite- we have been fighting for centuries, with the largest natural-born military the galaxy has seen. They…” He swept a hand dismissively. “Will be brushed aside.”

“...And, well, I’d be remiss not to ask about the status of the Catholic Church in your nation on behalf of our own Catholic population. Our Archbishops would no doubt have many questions for you, being that they’ve been without a proper Pope for centuries.”

Alfonso guided the group through to a meeting room, still richly paneled, the face of some old Patrician staring down at the group. Coffee was delivered before they’d even had the chance to take their seats and ashtrays sat before the smokers. “La Doctrina has, by all accounts, differed slightly from the teachings of the Church prior to the fall, but… The Church has been fascinated by the idea of reconvening a papal conclave. I believe they desire to see it ‘done properly-’ in Rome.”

"Ah, well," Ibrahim interjected, sharply clearing his throat. "If I may reply to your earlier point, sir, yes, you may be correct that New Terra will be easily swept aside -- but when it comes to fascists such as them, we do not like to leave any room for error -- and more importantly, we do not intend to merely defeat them. We intend to annihilate their military and permanently disable their capacity to wage war, and to erase their ideology from their populace. Thus, full mobilization is not only safer, but ideologically necessary."

"...Well-put, Ibrahim." Rachelle nodded. "As for the Conclave, our Catholic population has been waiting for exactly that opportunity. I imagine there may be some territorial claims to resolve to Europe as a whole, but, generally speaking, we would prefer to share it, and Terre itself, though only after surveys to see if anything sapient has survived. We've already picked out a handful of survey sites -- isolated mountain valleys, extensive cave systems such as the Mammoth Caves, et cetera, et cetera. That said, I can't imagine that restoring Vatican City or at least hosting a Conclave there will post much threat to whatever populations might still exist on Terre." She continued, gingerly reaching down to take a cup of coffee in hand and sip away at it. "Presumably, doctrinal differences between our altered strains of the Church could be worked out at such a Conclave?"

“Bold words,” Alfonso remarked. As they said on Old Earth, “you can kill a man, but you can’t kill an idea. Any ideology that has survived the stars and the centuries will likely not see itself quashed by military force. If anything, it seems more likely you’ll only create martyrs. Our goals when it comes to New Terra are far less lofty.” He set the cigar down to smoulder while he sipped his coffee.

“Terre.” He noted. “Francophonic. I see the EU has kept that particular habit around… A brief note on territorial claims- the Senate has already declared the Iberian Peninsula to be of special interest to Azulvista, along with the territories previously belonging to Mexico and Brazil. I imagine you have little interest in the latter, but it bears mentioning.”

The topic of a religious convention might have to wait until there were a few actual priests around.

"In the latter, no -- but in the former, yes. We don't have any particular interest in the Americas, beyond potentially helping to rehabilitate the landscape, free of charge, so to speak -- but a significant portion of our population has Iberian heritage. That said, as I've touched on, we don't make exclusive claims to most of Europe, even where we do make some claim -- aside from a few Federally-owned locations." Rachelle explained.

"When it comes to the PUNT, though, our goals are quite non-negotiable, and our intent is to make it absolutely clear that their ideology is a completely unproductive failure that is utterly non-viable in the ultimate long term. To correct the failures of policy in stamping out Nazism in the wake of the Second World War. We do not -- and will not -- offer amnesty to war criminals."

João and Alfonso shared a look. Fanatics. They couldn’t even see the hypocrisy of their words. So obsessed were they with a war over six centuries ago that they had forgotten that their own system of government was what had rendered Earth impotent to solve the looming crises that had eventually doomed her.

“Well, moving on from our warlike neighbours and our varying opinions on how they should be crushed, I assume you have much to ask us beyond matters of a higher power?” A plume of smoke poured from Alfonso’s mouth, making it only a few inches before the room’s air filtration pulled it away.

"We do," Rachelle nodded, her expression shifting to a diplomatic smile as she realized that, in fact, the Ishtari had probably been correct about the ineffectuality of the Azulvistans. If they wanted to achieve their war aims, they'd have to strike the PUNT hard – and faster than anyone else.

"We're interested in setting up a limited cultural exchange program with your nation, put simply, especially considering our shared origins. In particular, we have a special interest in traditional arts, music, and culinary arts – especially the kind that were lost in the evacuations. Put simply, we want to reconstruct what was lost, and we think you're the people for that. Additionally, we'd like to offer our scientific aid. Our terraforming and environmental rehabilitation programs, if you don't mind me saying so, are top of the line, as if our medicine – and those are technologies we don't like to hoard."

“We’d be happy to participate in cultural exchanges- perhaps we could even arrange for a visa scheme, to allow a limited number of our citizens to provide expertise in relevant fields? Terraforming technology could be of use, but I would have to defend the ability of Azulvistan medicine- I am sure if you wished to collaborate with our mathetes, you would learn much as well.”

Now it was Maria’s turn to speak up. “Additionally, Azulvistan businesses are eager to begin working in foreign markets. We have everything from raw materials to luxury goods to provide- including more of the wonderful Cuban-style cigars that the Commandant is now enjoying.”

"Oh, we wouldn't mean to insult your doctors, of course -- but everyone can benefit from medical exchange, especially in extended contact scenarios. Terraforming technology, however, is a technology I assume you understand, will require plenty of preparation and care, but it's something you have to get quite capable at when you've been preparing for the next several tens of thousands of years of population growth." Rachelle smiled warmly. "Ecological preservation and restoration, too -- though the issuance of visas is something I can personally speak on in greater detail at a later date."

Rachelle paused, smile taking on an even softer, almost apologetic shape. "Now, while we are more than open to trade, we are, fundamentally, a post-scarcity, moneyless society. Now, that certainly doesn't preclude trade, but your point of contact would be the Directorate-General for Economic and Industrial Affairs, and through them, if you so choose, our various Industrial Groups."

There was another shared look between the three Azulvistan diplomats. A slight shifting in their chairs.

This was not going to be an easy relationship.

---

The Fires Are Lit: New Terra

A message had punched through the many, many layers of bureaucracy. It had come from on high, cleaved through the red tape, and been seen and heard by all within the military. The A.F.U was marching to war. All departments had made ready, the economy stoked, its bloated nature put to the test as it churned out the machinery of conflict.

There was no warning from the Meeting Place. They had declined to participate in that particular experiment. Their gateway powered up, and one by one, ships set out, some together, and some to far-flung corners of the galaxy. This was to be a true alpha strike.

The First Galactic Conflict began.

GATEWAYS: THE NEXT GENERATION [CLOSED AND CONCLUDED]

Six Months Later

There is something in orbit above Earth once again.

This is not the dead debris left hanging for centuries, lingering on long past when it should have expired, no, this is something altogether different. Messy, incoherent, slapdash, perhaps even ramshackle in places, it is the collective accomplishment of those who fled the cradle of mankind, a buttress against the cold and vast expanse of space that lies beyond it.

And it's filled with arguing.

Of course, those inside the Meeting Place, as it is beginning to be called, would disagree with the idea that what they're doing is arguing. It's something far more confrontational, so much more dangerous, and requiring infinitely more patience and practice- diplomacy. And to make sure everyone is on the same page when it comes to this 'diplomacy,' the first action upon making your arrival at the Meeting Place is to announce who, exactly, you are. A First Contact of sorts, just... Again, with clarity this time.

---

Addressing @Eldritch Puppy and @Darkspleen specifically, and everyone more broadly.

Alfonso splayed his fingers out and sighed. This was it. His big event. The time to show what the Gran Republic was all about. Already, things seemed uneasy- there was talk that this 'New Terra' was building up their military, and others had responded. Stormclouds loomed heavy on the horizon, and Azulvista had been all too happy to prepare countermeasures for it. More than these clouds however, there was a very real threat being posed by the alliance between the so-called 'Chosen' and the Commmonality of New Ishtar. Together, they formed a powerbloc larger than any other in the galaxy, and the Senate had almost immediately agreed that such a coupling was a dangerous threat to Azulvista and any galactic initiatives it might persue.

Luckily however, they had potential allies as well. Even as Alfonso adjusted his uniform, his face being powdered and pampered by various makeup artists, other diplomats had hurried to begin talks. Of particular interest to Azulvista was the Kingdom of Kaus Borealis and Kamenyan Defense Directorate, both of whom seemed to be amenable to the Azulvistan way of conducting business.

Now though, it was time for his announcement. Brushing off the last lingering makeup artist, he rose to his feet, strode out from the backstage and flashed a winning smile, taking his position behind a podium marked with Azulvista's seal. Tapping the microphone twice, he began.

"Greetings scattered nations of the galaxy! I stand here as a representative of the Gran Republic of Azulvista, a proud, prosperous and cultured nation!" He offered a brief bow, his medals jingling a little at the motions. "When our ancestors set forth from our cradle, they could not have predicted the hardships their descendents would go through, but despite a planet unfit for life, a most despicable xenos threat and even the foolishness of mankind's own nature, we have persevered, and we have prospered. If you come to us in friendship, you will find no greater friend, but if you come with sword in hand, know that it will be your last mistake." He nodded pleasantly. "Gracias señores and señoras. Our door is always open.

---

Diplomat Besud Köke¹ sighed deeply. There was no reason for him to be worried- already now the Khagnate's hordes swept through various foreign systems, örtöös being erected on foreign moons and goods being extracted at record speeds. In fact, the Khagnate had never had it so good- already the Khagn's account-tellers were recording a flood of resources that would forever mark Tsagadai's reign as one of the most prosperous the Khagnate had ever seen, and yet... Well... If he failed here, he could only imagine his head would not long remain attached to his neck.

Swallowing down his fear, he began his address in the thick, guttural language of the Khagnate. The translators would take care of the rest.

"Hail, fellow travellers of Uzay. We are the Khagnate of the Steppe and Sky, under the rulership of the Great and Mighty Khagn Tsagadai II. We are a humble people and so I will not take up much of your time, instead only using this time to inform you that we are ever hungry for fresh systems and fresh resources. We promise none more unintruisive, and none more capable of extracting value from your systems. Our miners and tradespeople stand ready, and should you wish to come and experience our own system, you have only to ask. Bayartai, and go with the grace of Uzay." He kowtowed low to the camera recording him, and then drew himself back up, offering only a sharp nod as the video ended.

¹ The Khagnate places little value on surnames (which come first when names are written.) In fact, many would find the idea of 'surnames' extremely confusing, as they tend to be artificially created for the purposes of foreigners. The Khagnate typically identify themselves by Horde and/or Clan rather than surnames.

GATEWAYS: THE NEXT GENERATION [CLOSED AND CONCLUDED]

@Ever Faithful

Apologies, I didn't see this! Yes, you could have an ecumenopolis, but, of course, it would have to be developed from scratch over the 300 years of colonisation, however the population limits in place would make one slightly peculiar.

GATEWAYS: THE NEXT GENERATION [CLOSED AND CONCLUDED]

Azulvista System

A collab between @Irredeemable and @Ekreture

The Escudo de la Libertad was the pride of Azulvista's home fleet, and a unique beast indeed. Sponsored almost entirely by a single patrician, it defied the typical Azulvistan wisdom of smaller, faster attack craft backed by heavy duty gunboats. Instead, the 'shield' was a purpose-build frigate, designed to hold the line behind the fleets of smaller craft, heavily armoured, bristling with point defence, and with a command hub capable of managing an entire fleetwide battle in safety and comfort. It had rapidly relocated from the rim of the Azulvista system to the Gateway as soon as it had opened, joining the blockade that the Senate had ordered as a pre-emptive measure whilst Alfonso ventured out into the Sol system. The picket line had already been established closer to the Gateway itself, and the Escudo now sat safely behind this, well within range to unleash its full firepower should something emerge.

And then, something did emerge.

"Almirante! Picket reports contact! A single vessel, unarmed!" The news rushed through the ship, winging its way down to the bowls of engine staff and to the high tables of command. "They've sent a message. In Spanish. Old Spanish."

"Play it." The admiral nodded at the underling officer, a cigarillo lazily smouldering between their fingers.

Greetings, peoples of distant stars! We are Shekhekhan, refugees of Bavel and travellers of the Great Empty. We exist on the Moons which orbit the gas giant Salome. If you are a human true of heart, and bear upon your lips peace and providence, we come joyously and bring only peace! And if you are un-human but seek peace, prosperity, and trade, we come to you with a strong arm and open heart. Humanity has lain disjointed and unknown to each other for far too long. Meet us at the table of brotherhood! Peace be upon you, Salome Al'akam!

There was a long pause once the message had finished itself. The picket line bristled, this alien ship left hanging in space, facing a small armada of attack craft, perilously vulnerable. Then, it would receive a response, still in Spanish, but with a tone and dialect unknown to humanity's cradle.

"Hail, Shekhekhan. You have entered the borders of the Gran Republic of Azulvista. Your message has been received and understood. We are glad to know humanity is still out there prospering and surviving, and would like to meet face-to-face. The pride of the Azulvistan fleet will be arriving shortly to take you aboard."

It didn't take much longer before the smooth shape of the Escudo pierced the picket line and soared towards the Yetziyah. Cutting its engines, it sailed beside the smaller ship, then came to a stop, aligning itself as best it could with the Yetziyah's foreign construction. Another message was sent across.

"Maglocks have been enabled."

Rimana's skin bristled a bit as she saw the military frigate begin to approach her much smaller exploration vessel. Aoshu held her arm comfortingly as the professor composed herself, and began piecing together the message of this understandably foreign Spanish dialect. After piecing together the message as best she could, she realized their intention, and quickly went to send a reply in Castilian. "Eh...Hola, Azulvistenos, this is Professor Rimana Batzakhar. Your message has been received; we are prepared to be boarded." After sending the message, she nodded for Aoshu and a couple of her robotic crew members to stand at her side.

"Boarded?" Came the reply. "Of course not! You are here, in our land. Let us show you some Azulvistan hospitality. I am sure you could use it with your travels here."

The professor chuckled a bit. "Thank you, I am sorry for the confusion, your tongue it is ah...my knowledge of Spanish is a historical one. We will be arriving shortly." With that, she nodded to her robotic pilot to align the Yetziyah with the Escudo in turn, locking in to the foreign vessel's maglocks. The same Salome welcome party waited at the ship's entrance while the airlocks between the two vessels were engaged.

The airlocks parted with a hiss. Standing on the other side were several severe-looking marines, all armed with hefty looking rifles, led by what must have been an officer, who instead brandished a sabre. None of them looked as if they were about to engage in combat, their stances parade perfect, their uniforms gleaming, and their berets all showing the same polished symbol bang in the centre of them. At the sign of the foreign diplomats they presented their arms, the officer pressing the sabre to his forehead before sheathing it with a smart click as the hilt slotted into place. Once that had been completed, the soldiers parted to either side of the airlock, forming a corridor the diplomats could walk through. The officer at the head, distinguished by a set of epaulettes, several medals, and a nasty looking electric scar that spiderwebbed across his face gave a salute.

"Greetings. It is my great pleasure and honour to welcome the first ever foreign dignitaries aboard this most prestigious of vessels. I am Capitán Leôncio, of the Gran Republican Navy. If you would please follow me, la almirante is waiting in the central command hub."

Rimana looked between the assembled marines. If this was a trap it wasn't one she would be able to break out of, but this was the job, and she couldn't have expected much different. She could imagine the response the first foreigners in Salome are going to receive. "Greetings, Capitan, I am Professor Batzakhar of the Academy of Ur'daat, this is my assistant, Aoshu." The mothlike alien gave an elegant curtsy. "I would be honoured, please, lead the way." With that, the Professor, Aoshu, and a handful of robots left the safety of their ship and stepped into the unknown.

The Azulvistans were doing a remarkable job of staying stern-faced despite the fact that an alien was walking among them, the Capitán turning smartly and leading the group out of the airlock, marines falling into step behind them as an honour guard. The diplomats were lead through the surprisingly well-furnished hallways of the frigate, arriving by a quick relay system large enough to carry all of them.

The soldiers comported themselves stiffly- perhaps overly so? But nonetheless, Aoshu, Batzakhar and the robots were carried up and through La Escudo's inner corridors safely and swiftly, until at last they were deposited in front of the command centre of the building. Leôncio swept an arm out for the guests to go first, the automatic doors parting with only the faint noise of air being displaced.

The professor followed closely, looking with wonder at the walls and corridors of the ship, before embarking on the relay. She tried to contain the amazement she felt watching this alien yet human technology and styling. Finally, when they reached their destination, she followed suit as Leoncio led her and her crew into the command centre.

Inside the room, currently facing away from the pair, was what could only be la almirante. Her hair had been drawn back into a practical looking black ponytail and her uniform was... Well it was simply magnificent. Even from the back, the tailoring and care that had gone into it was truly astonishing, a gilded sash sitting across her shoulders and numerous, equally gilded tassels shifting as she turned.

When she did though, it revealed another fact about la almirante. She appeared to be quite young indeed- perhaps in her late twenties or early thirties by Earth's standards, with piercing steely eyes and near flawless skin. She had a sharp, well-defined set of cheekbones and a narrow nose, but her lips were warm and held a smile for the visitors. She raised a hand towards the strange figures that stood towards her, cheerily introducing herself.

"Salve and hail! I am Almirante Isabella Maria Catalina Teresa Margarita Rodriguez de Lobasla, daughter of Chancellor Federico Javier Victor Ines de Lobasla and steadfast servant of the great nation in which you have found yourselves. Please! By all means!" She gestured towards the table that took up most of the room. It was clearly meant for issuing orders and examining the state of play during a battle, but its length, ostentatiousness and the glasses and ashtrays laid upon it now spoke of a more peaceful purpose. "To whom do I have the honour of addressing?”

Rimana stopped in her tracks when she saw Isabella, taken aback by the woman's beauty. She moved the brown waves of hair away from the front of her face to tuck them behind her ear, before clearing her throat and entering into the room. "It is a pleasure, Almirante de Lobasla, I am Professor Rimana Batzakhar of the University of Ur'daat, I study the cultures and histories of humanity before the Gateway. Eh...my father is a baker from a small town on my home world, heh...I can't say he has quite as impressive a title. But I am honoured to make your acquaintance." Aoshu stepped beside her boss, bowing deeply and grandiosely and spoke in perfect Castilian while attempting to perform the inflections of the Azulvistan language.

"And I am Aoshu. Asham native of the continental moon Adama, traveller, scholar, and-"

"My assistant," Rimana interjected. The alien glowered back at her.

"Yes. Her 'assistant'."

Isabella clapped her hands once, then gestured towards the vast table sat between them. "Please then, Aoshu and Rimana, sit! Would you like something to drink? Wate? Mate? Tea? Coffee? Something stronger?" She paused for a moment, and then continued with her offerings. "And do your people smoke tobacco? We happen to have many excellent varieties should you partake."

Rimana raised her hand defiantly as the two sat at the table Isabella had gestured to. "Oh, that's very kind, Almirante, but we're-"

"I don't smoke but I'll take a ah...is there any hope for a daquiri?" Aoshu interjected. Rimana looked to her assistant and side before returning her gaze back to Isabella.

"I suppose a coffee wouldn't hurt, gracias Almirante."

Isabella eyed the alien curiously, then glanced towards the professor. Some sort of thought process was obviously occurring, but exactly what it was was rather difficult to discern. Nodding at the two requests, she gave a lazy wave with one of her hands and relayed the orders to an individual who, although dressed smartly, did not appear to be a soldier. The woman vanished through another automatic door, leaving the group alone again.

As if to demonstrate her point about tobacco, the admiral reached inside a pocket and drew out an intricately designed silver case, flicking it open and extracting a single cigarette. Setting it to her lips, there was the woosh of a lighter and the bright purple flare of plasma, the cigarette soon happily smouldering away. "As a student of cultures and histories yourself, I'm sure you must be ecstatic at this opportunity to see all that humanity has become since the closure of the Gateways, are you not?"

The professor blushed a bit at Isabella's question and smiled, relaxing into her chair. "Of course I am! It is all so amazing. Truth be told, my people aren't all too interested in my field of study, so to be here, speaking Spanish with actual Spanish speakers, God knows how many lightyears away from home, it's all a bit eh..." Her gaze met the Almirante's and she smirked. "Encantada."

"Very good!" Isabella's amusement was plain on her face, and some of the smoke that she had been inhaling puffed out through her nose, which, for a brief moment, made her look more dragon than woman. "So, professora, you are a... Mathetes, then, yes? One who dedicates themselves to their academia? And your assistant?" She looked towards Aoshu. "I must admit, we have had poor experiences with xenos in our time here. I assume that your people are more agreeable than our Yyasum."

Aoshu chuckled, offering Isabella a smile. Yyasum? Aoshu thought, I suppose it's at least NEWER than 'Nukhrin'. They knew better than to speak up about the cultural insensitivity, and for once remained decidedly silent. Rimana looked at Aoshu embarrassedly, before looking back to Isabella.

"Ah...with exception, relations with Alien-kind in Salome have been rather peaceable, at least on their end. To them...I suppose that we are the 'Yyasum.' Before the Shekhekhanin arrived on Salome, the Tifara system was a stop on vast Alien trade network. Still is." She swallowed before moving on to a less sensitive subject. "As or my profession...eh, yes, I suppose I could be considered a 'Mathetes', I like to think I'm fairly dedicated." At this, Aoshu snorted, expressing rare emotion.

"La Professora is being humble, she hardly leaves her office to sleep at home, she knows the boy who delivers her food on a first name basis." They chuckled again before resuming their silence.

"Fascinating." Isabella responded. The only reason she wasn't taking notes was because this whole conversation was being recorded. "That sounds remarkable, to be located along the lines of an intergalactic highway... Have any breached the speed of light, or is it all slower than light travel? If so, how do they function? Sleeper ships? Colony ships? Something else?" She leaned forwards a little, tapping off her cigarette over one of the ashtrays.

Before the reply could come, the serving woman returned, carrying a tray set with two cups of coffee and a cloudy coloured daquiri. Once the drinks had been set in front of everyone, Rimana's coffee coming with sugar and milk on the side, the conversation could resume.

The professor's assistant sipped their delightful little cocktail. Exquisite. It was curious though, a human so interested in Alien culture and technology. Aoshu didn't mind it at all, and they leaned forward with their drink, their wings folded down and relaxed at the side. "Well, showing you would sum it up a lot quicker than my telling you." With that, they tapped a set of instructions into a small holoprojector on their wrist, before removing it and placing it on the table to display a large ship. "This, mi compañera, is my Homeship, an Asham Royal Breeding vessel."

Rimana's eyebrows raised her eyebrows at what Aoshu was saying...it wasn't something she had ever discussed with her assistant. To be fair, she thought, I also never asked. While Aoshu continued their presentation, Rimana looked down to the coffee tray in front of her. Milk and sugar are blasphemous on Salome, but she was curious, so she mixed in a bit of the sweeteners before taking a sip. It was clear from first taste that the coffee these Azulvistans drank was nothing like what Salome had. It was rich, silky smooth and powerful. Much like on the Moons, the caffeine could be felt buzzing through one's veins practically before you swallowed, but the taste was vibrant and full bodied, whilst still managing to have smoother and subtler tones on the edges, tinged with a chocolatey, caramel flavour. Salome's coffee was earthy, bitter, and powerful, a true reflection of her people. Any attempt to dilute this power is treachery to your heritage; rather, the richness of Shekhekhani coffee should only be aided with cardamom or cinnamon. She had to admit though, this Azulvistan coffee was good; Salome's brew has always been a bit too much for her. Shaking these thoughts out of her head, she looked back up to Aoshu, who had begun explaining the chart before them.

"While I was hatched and raised in Salome, the egg I was born from was laid here. My people, the 'Asham' as the Shekhekhanin call us, have been travelling this trade network for millennia. Humans are the only species I know of to have found a method of FTL travel." They smirked as they thought back on their life as an alien among humans. "Maybe that's why they interest me so much. But that isn't to say that Aliens do not have our own sort of ingenuity. My species are eusocial colonizers, like ants or bees. Our queen makes most of us infertile with her gross queen mist, with only a small number of drones and princesses left to breed further. And on these breeding ships, she lives here," Aoshu focused in on a section of the ship containing a massive, egg-filled Asham.

"She lays a ton of eggs, one of them which contained me, but these eggs lie dormant unless exposed to ultraviolet light. So, most eggs are left dormant in the ship’s storage. The crew of the ship feed themselves, the drones, and the Queen through a series of fungal farms spread around the ship. And if there's one thing Asham know, it's fungus. As a food source, fuel source, and a medicine, we are masters of mycology. And a lot of these fungal varieties are extremely valuable. So, my species finds suitable homes along the Route, barters with the locals, and in exchange for this fungus, currency, and whatever other junk the ship has in its trunk, the locals allow the Asham ship to offload some of their eggs and their crew to start a new Asham colony. My colony was founded on Adama, on land leased from a major corporation on that moon. And I grew up on that colony. And I learned to grow fungus and build a new breeding ship for my colony to send out, but I got bored so I left because it was boring and I wanted to speak Spanish and Portuguese and watch Orfeu Negro. And now I'm here. Aoshu looked between the two humans and felt a bit embarrassed; they hadn't spoken for that long in a while, but it's rare a human's actually curious about slower than light travel. "Thanks," they finished.

Isabella nodded as the alien spoke, but the drags on her cigarette spoke volumes about her mood. Previously they had been almost lackadaisical, the amused actions of someone completely confident with themselves. Now, as the stick drew to an end and the butt was snuffed out into the ashtray, the last few drags had taken on a more intense, focused note. She breathed out a final plume of smoke, one hand's fingers drumming idly against the tabletop.

"We are not a peoples opposed to trade, even though our experiences with xenos have been less than stellar. I have no doubt you will find many markets for your exotic goods, and no doubt we will have our own products to share with you. For now though, allow me to share exactly who we are." She took another sip of her coffee, which it was clear was almost as black as night.

"When the Gran Republic arrived here, the planet below us was virgin. Life had barely evolved, caught in its primitive forms. We forged it into a paradise- an Earth away from Earth, seeding forests, spreading animals, crafting life. Then the government fell, and dictators reigned. The system was split and shattered, sectarian differences tearing apart what we thought was the last of humanity. Even here, we couldn't help but repeat the mistakes of our past. But, we learned from them. Grew stronger from our mistakes. The Gran Republic forged itself anew from the chaos and destruction of the dictators and the rebels, united the stars, and when the Yyasum came, their fleets ruining the careful lifecrafting of our ancestors, we drove them back with a cry that shook the heavens." She lit another cigarette, the smoke drifting past her face.

"The Gran Republic will not stand idly by and watch as the same mistakes are played out again and again. We will not allow ourselves to be taken advantage of or intimidated. But, if you come to us, honestly and frankly, and in the name of diplomacy and good faith, we will be your most faithful friends, and your greatest bulwark." She pushed herself back from the table and strode over to alien and human alike, offering her hand out. "Please, accept our hospitality for as long as you desire. Perhaps you might even meet others who drift into our system."

The professor blushed slightly and took the other woman's hand, standing up from her seat and placing down her now empty cup of coffee. "I can assure you, we come in peace. I would be honoured to be your guest." Her hand lingered in the Almirante's grasp for another moment before she pulled it away and replaced it at her own side. "I would like to establish communications, if at all possible, with my superiors back at Salome. I'd like them to know that the mission's been successful...and that the Academy will need to give my substitute an extension," she continued with a smile, "If your men could assist my automatons in that, it would be much appreciated."

Isabella's grip was firm but not overly hard, and when the professor pulled her hand back, she did so too, smartly and crisply. "Of course! I'll have some of the communications specialists assist you with such a matter. Once that is done, I'll have found you a berth, and I hope you can join me for dinner. I'm sure we still have plenty to discuss."

"I would love to," Rimana replied. "We're two civilizations separated by three hundred years of development," she said playfully, "Of course we have much to discuss."

GATEWAYS: THE NEXT GENERATION [CLOSED AND CONCLUDED]

@Crusader Lord

Once again, thanks for making me read through a damn novel. A good one though. You're accepted.

@Damo021

Also accepted!