I'm open to anything either politically within the city, or espionage type stuff outside it. Basically Nasharia is versatile.
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counter-revolutionary terrorist
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mank demes
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I'm still here.
I posted. Sorry guys! It won't happen again.
Nasharia listened carefully, watching everyone in the room carefully rather than contributing much herself after her initial placation. She was pleased to see that she had been able to redirect the order of things back to the important business at hand, but the tension in the atmosphere built continuously as the contentious issue of magic was discussed at some length. Each of the men around the table had something of worth to contribute to the running of the city, she believed, even if that contribution was a the sort of passion that she was accustomed to redirect toward her own means.
The discussion of the occult was obviously stirring memories in many of the Guardians, not least Nasharia, whose spine tingled coldly as she remembered the swirling maelstrom of magical energy that had pressed on all sides of her mind on that dark day all those years ago. She also remembered the hot flashes of fury; the way she attacked like a madwoman, blood saturating her green robes until they hung like limp lengths of rain-soaked cloth on a drying line. She remembered the way that the battered bracelet that still encircled her wrist had flamed up with a yellowish glow, and how, at the edge of her mind, she had heard a foul, dark whispering in an unknown language and then, as the tide of the battle had turned, a chorus of approval from her ancestors.
They were uncomfortable memories, and they were duly suppressed - it would not do for someone whose life revolved around the impassionate pragmatism of the politician to be so affected by the passionate throes of her early life. That was done; her parents had been avenged. Her allegiance was to Dara now - for it was within these crumbling walls that the ex-poisoner and herbalist had been able to find status, fame and gold. More than any of the others around the table, Nasharia's status was inextricably entwined with the city's own systems of social class and government.
As the tension in the room mounted, Nasharia stood carefully, once again ready to diffuse the situation in any way possible. She first looked to Kanros, who had addressed her about surveillance far beyond Dara's reach. "My next caravans will be despatched with orders to observe the local gossip and goings on along their trade routes. If there is any such whisper of an increase in occult activity along the major trade routes, then we will know of it within a matter of weeks,"
"I shall, naturally, also keep a close eye on things within the city's magistrate and amongst its more highborn denizens... a task with which I shall, I am sure, find collusion with our resident brothel-keeper," She continued, with a light-hearted nod to Landar. He was turning out to be as politically competent as Nasharia had both hoped and dreaded.
The Green Woman had been considering Haljon carefully since his interjection. It was not considered very good form to drink to excess at the slightest provocation - especially on state business, and doubly especially when the matters at stake were so essential to the continued existence of the city and (Nasharia remembered with a pang of apprehension) the continued lives of everyone around this table. Nonetheless, it was entirely possible that the watch commander had become complacent with the pencil pushing lifestyle of the leader, and had indulged in all manner of hedonist extravagances in the interceding years between their time together. Nasharia chose to believe that this was a minor blip, or else some manner of ruse, for in her dealings with the city's government she had not heard many whisperings of Haljon being a particularly incompetent commander. "I must vouch for Leytan. I know his students to be of sound mind and of a disciplined temperament - and I think their deployment would do much to allow us to continue with a conducive investigation without the unwelcome possibility of exciting the attentions of the lower orders too much,"
She paused contemplatively for a moment, tapping her chin with a bejewelled finger. The emerald hairpiece that held her elaborate style in place glittered hungrily. "If I may also make another pragmatic suggestion," She finally said, peering around at the assembled. "We should put out an official account of the deaths of our predecessors - perhaps that there was a gas lamp explosion of some sort, or something equally mundane. I would daresay that it would not fool a great deal of people, but an official account would at the very least dissuade some attentions; particularly from foreign states who may look to the sudden death of our entire ruling body as an opportunity of some sort or another,"
"Furthermore, I also believe that we must make a public show. Some sort of open parade or other such event, in order to show the people of Dara that the Guardians are still an extant force with a strong backbone," She finished optimistically, hoping that the others would see the need for this petty political posturing. Presently, the tensions at the table ignited, and she turned to Ephraim somewhat sharply.
"My friend, it is my intention to work with all assembled at this table with equal respect. I cannot, however, sit by while you threaten your fellow so physically. Put the sword away, before this situation turns bloody. They are still scrubbing the remnants of our predecessors off of the walls as we speak - I need not remind you of the precarious fragility of all of our existences?" Nasharia fired somewhat sharply, her eyes narrowing as she reeled on Ephraim. She was, of course, taking something of a gamble in confronting the situation at the table with so much vigour, but she hoped that it would be her who could easily disperse any tensions. "Personal attacks must not occur here - verbal or otherwise,"
She folded her arms over her dress, sighing slightly. "We must all do our part in whatever field we are experienced in. I do not agree with the methods of some of those here at this table, but I recognise their worth," Continued the lady, eyeing Ephraim pointedly. "I hope that all of us can do the same,"
The discussion of the occult was obviously stirring memories in many of the Guardians, not least Nasharia, whose spine tingled coldly as she remembered the swirling maelstrom of magical energy that had pressed on all sides of her mind on that dark day all those years ago. She also remembered the hot flashes of fury; the way she attacked like a madwoman, blood saturating her green robes until they hung like limp lengths of rain-soaked cloth on a drying line. She remembered the way that the battered bracelet that still encircled her wrist had flamed up with a yellowish glow, and how, at the edge of her mind, she had heard a foul, dark whispering in an unknown language and then, as the tide of the battle had turned, a chorus of approval from her ancestors.
They were uncomfortable memories, and they were duly suppressed - it would not do for someone whose life revolved around the impassionate pragmatism of the politician to be so affected by the passionate throes of her early life. That was done; her parents had been avenged. Her allegiance was to Dara now - for it was within these crumbling walls that the ex-poisoner and herbalist had been able to find status, fame and gold. More than any of the others around the table, Nasharia's status was inextricably entwined with the city's own systems of social class and government.
As the tension in the room mounted, Nasharia stood carefully, once again ready to diffuse the situation in any way possible. She first looked to Kanros, who had addressed her about surveillance far beyond Dara's reach. "My next caravans will be despatched with orders to observe the local gossip and goings on along their trade routes. If there is any such whisper of an increase in occult activity along the major trade routes, then we will know of it within a matter of weeks,"
"I shall, naturally, also keep a close eye on things within the city's magistrate and amongst its more highborn denizens... a task with which I shall, I am sure, find collusion with our resident brothel-keeper," She continued, with a light-hearted nod to Landar. He was turning out to be as politically competent as Nasharia had both hoped and dreaded.
The Green Woman had been considering Haljon carefully since his interjection. It was not considered very good form to drink to excess at the slightest provocation - especially on state business, and doubly especially when the matters at stake were so essential to the continued existence of the city and (Nasharia remembered with a pang of apprehension) the continued lives of everyone around this table. Nonetheless, it was entirely possible that the watch commander had become complacent with the pencil pushing lifestyle of the leader, and had indulged in all manner of hedonist extravagances in the interceding years between their time together. Nasharia chose to believe that this was a minor blip, or else some manner of ruse, for in her dealings with the city's government she had not heard many whisperings of Haljon being a particularly incompetent commander. "I must vouch for Leytan. I know his students to be of sound mind and of a disciplined temperament - and I think their deployment would do much to allow us to continue with a conducive investigation without the unwelcome possibility of exciting the attentions of the lower orders too much,"
She paused contemplatively for a moment, tapping her chin with a bejewelled finger. The emerald hairpiece that held her elaborate style in place glittered hungrily. "If I may also make another pragmatic suggestion," She finally said, peering around at the assembled. "We should put out an official account of the deaths of our predecessors - perhaps that there was a gas lamp explosion of some sort, or something equally mundane. I would daresay that it would not fool a great deal of people, but an official account would at the very least dissuade some attentions; particularly from foreign states who may look to the sudden death of our entire ruling body as an opportunity of some sort or another,"
"Furthermore, I also believe that we must make a public show. Some sort of open parade or other such event, in order to show the people of Dara that the Guardians are still an extant force with a strong backbone," She finished optimistically, hoping that the others would see the need for this petty political posturing. Presently, the tensions at the table ignited, and she turned to Ephraim somewhat sharply.
"My friend, it is my intention to work with all assembled at this table with equal respect. I cannot, however, sit by while you threaten your fellow so physically. Put the sword away, before this situation turns bloody. They are still scrubbing the remnants of our predecessors off of the walls as we speak - I need not remind you of the precarious fragility of all of our existences?" Nasharia fired somewhat sharply, her eyes narrowing as she reeled on Ephraim. She was, of course, taking something of a gamble in confronting the situation at the table with so much vigour, but she hoped that it would be her who could easily disperse any tensions. "Personal attacks must not occur here - verbal or otherwise,"
She folded her arms over her dress, sighing slightly. "We must all do our part in whatever field we are experienced in. I do not agree with the methods of some of those here at this table, but I recognise their worth," Continued the lady, eyeing Ephraim pointedly. "I hope that all of us can do the same,"
Sorry, I knew I said that I would post but I've been unexpectedly busy the last few days. I'll get a post in at some point though, I promise!
I should have a post up by tomorrow.
Unknown Space
Valara
Valar Major
Hirathaxis
The Aquamarine Senate
In the Valaran capital of Hirathaxis, it seemed as if the Senate was - for the first time in over three thousand years of existing - unsure of its own future and that of the Empire. The shimmering chamber, so named because of its construction from the shining Kirathani stone mined from the eponymous asteroid belt that ringed Valar Major, was in a state of disarray as various senators spoke over each other, argued, and - in a few scattered cases - panicked. The administrative body of the Empire had been in session since the first reports had come from the furthest reaches of the Empire of what was being dubbed 'The Great Happening', and senators had drifted in and out as the sky outside seemed to cycle rapidly between light and dark.
Outside, Valar Major seemed to operate as normal. Truth be told, the centre of the Valaran Empire was populated mostly by the elite of the Valaran race, many of whom had been totally lost for centuries for what sardonically called 'philosophising' by the industriously minded Kirr in an echo of what many of the leading Valaran aristocrats gave as their occupation on official census forms; essentially, they had become hedonists, content to try the newest pleasurable substances synthesised by the lizardmen and behave irresponsibly within the confines of their sprawling palatial pleasure yachts and homes. Hirathaxis, by contrast, eschewed the fountains of wine and the sprawling orgy-houses in favour of necessary but reluctant governmental and administrative efficiency.
The Senate House itself was an unspectacular building by Valaran standards, attached by an elevated bridge to the Imperial Palace that dwarfed it. The aquamarine, octagonal building, in truth, seemed more of an afterthought than an intentional part of the otherwise meticulously planned city, and that was true; it had been built in the wake of the formation of the Valaran Empire, while the rest of the city had been designed during the heyday of the Valaran independent Kingdom.
Inside, a particularly rotund Valaran was speaking at some speed. As he spoke, his language - in the clicks and whistles of the Valaran tongue - was translated at speed into both the hissing, guttural language of the Kirr and the chattering, quick language of the Draxakori'i. This was broadcast automatically into the minds of all of the senators by way of a small cybernetic implant in the side of the head:
"We have intelligence of the Red Dawn Cult operating at three times its original number since The Great Happening - some thirty million members are now said to exist among the Valaran race, all of whom are calling for the dissolution of the Empire and the death of the Emperor. They are a dangerous threat to the stability of the Empire--" He was suddenly interrupted by a Kirr female, dressed in the austere black jumpsuit that nearly all of her race seemed to favour.
"With due respect, Senator, that is an issue of Valaran rather than senatorial importance. You must deal with your own issues on a domestic level. There is nothing my people can do," She said condescendingly, to a chorus of hissing approval from her fellow Kirr and a few tentative hoof stomps from the Draxakori'i in the chamber.
The Valaran retorted quickly, his purple skin blushing to a magenta. "This issue will become of imperial importance when the Empire is threatened in all its facets. These may be Valaran religious terrorists, but they threaten the entire Empire's stability if their poisonous ideology is allowed to spread much further,"
It was the turn of the Valaran to sound their approval. They did so by simply clapping their hands together three times.
Another Kirr senator spoke now, an elderly male whose scales had begun to blacken with age. "Very well. We must advise the Minister for Domestic Security to act in a satisfactory manner to stop the spread of this poisonous ideology," He said sagely, nodding conclusively. There was unanimous agreement now. Deferring matters either to devolution or to a ministerial capacity was the senate's preferred method of doing as little work as possible.
***
Unknown Space
Valara
Valar Major
Hirathaxis
Imperial Palace
Emperor Kirathaxx XX was looking extraordinarily aged all of a sudden. At a hundred and eighty three, he was of an advanced age, and it seemed 'The Happening' had aged him further. His skin was a pallid violet, and it seemed as if there was a cloudiness or a confusion in his eyes as of late. Rumours abounded that he had fallen ill - others still, in the distant corners of the Empire, where news had spread slowly of The Great Happening, whispered that he had been murdered in the chaos. To the Minister for Scientific Development, Salassaia Thak A'Kira-Ak-Tarani, one of the brightest minds in Kirr-Space, he merely seemed weary. The Emperor had summoned her after what he had said was a particularly arduous meeting of the Valaran Verdant Council; the Kirr female suspected the scions of the great houses of the Valaran nobility were in much more disarray than the elites of their the Kirr or the Draxakori'i. After all, the Valaran had been happy with blessed, opulent, stagnation, and the Great Happening had shaken their once uncontroversial religion to demanding an end to the hierarchy with seemed to govern every aspect of Valaran behaviour.
Like anyone in imperial governmental service, Salassaia was equipped with a three-way translator. For his part - in order to avoid the indignity of cybernetic implantation - the Emperor held a small translator in his hand that spoke the female's words to him immediately following anything that she said.
"As I understand it, minister... we are unsure as to the root of this... event," The Emperor's words were relayed with pauses.
The minister nodded for a moment. "Your Imperial Greatness," She began with learned deference. "Kirr research stations indicate that nothing within the confines of the Empire has changed. Agricultural production remains stable, as do internal defence systems and other such technologies. We theorise that the whole Empire was - coincidentally - transported to some distant corner of the universe by some phenomena such as a large wormhole or other such occurrence," It was, truly, a roundabout way of saying that in Kirr space researchers were working with great haste to find out anything at all about the mysterious circumstances of the Happening.
"I see," The Emperor spoke after a moment. Salassaia had a sneaking suspicion that he did not, in fact, see, but said nothing. "We must map out the territory around us," He said tiredly.
"Yes, Greatness, ships from the various megacorporations are already making small excursions into the nearby space in order to see if any other sentient species survived the Happening. We are confident that the chaotic state of this part of the universe suggests the present of various rare or perhaps as of yet undiscovered minerals," The minister said, a touch of excitement creeping into her voice. It truly was a new opportunity to make a lot of credits. The Emperor seemed to register this and frowned slightly.
"The Drax are surprisingly quiet on this," He concluded carefully, then waved for Salassaia to leave, which she did immediately. It was never a good idea to try the patience of the Emperor and, besides, it seemed as if the wizened ruler needed a rest...
As she retreated from the chamber, the Minister retrieved her an ovular communication device from the pocket of jumpsuit. Tapping it with a scaled finger, a holoscreen popped up, showing the current stocks in Kirr space. They were flashing wildly. Unbeknownst to the Empire at large, Kirr space was engulfed in a trade civil war as the megacorporations wrestled for Imperial contracts to mount expeditions into the new space. One of them, InterGlex Corp, had constructed within a matter of days a huge dish that sent our periodic, powerful pulses in an attempt to find a response from any other sentient life, a decision that had been critiqued endlessly by various others as reckless and dangerous. Salassaia sighed, replacing the device in her jumpsuit, and stepped out of the Palace's throne room into one of the imperious atriums that composed the bulk of its interior, where members of the Valaran high aristocracy stood around in their variously ridiculous gem-studded multi-coloured robes, all of them chattering excitedly. The Kirr shuddered with distaste.
***
Unknown Space
Kirra III
GloboHantex Headquarters
Somewhere over Narax
The GloboHantex headquarters was, essentially, a mobile skyscraper - it was the administrative centre of an interstellar company, and so it only made perfect sense for the headquarters to be mobile enough to keep a true eye on mining operations, terraforming and ship production in person. Within, it was a flurry of activity as various members of the conglomerate hurried back and forth excitedly.
The Great Happening had affected the Kirr more than they would care to admit to either of their co-races in the Empire; for several hours, nearly all of Kirr space had went dark as an unknown pulse of activity knocked out nearly all communication and technology throughout the four systems that they called home. Even the great floating conglomerates had been reduced to hunks of metal as Kirr engineers had laboured to restore energy on a huge, uncoordinated scale. For a few moments - though many Kirr would be loathe to admit it - it had felt like a whole species had been plunged back into a day before even the most basic of technologies. Precisely why neither the Valar or the Draxakori'i were reporting any similar phenomena was a mystery.
The board room of the GloboHantex Conglomerate was housed at the top of the ship, with huge, multi-panel glass windows looking out into space. Today, the view was Narax, the gas giant that seemed to dominate the Kirra III system. Visible too was its moon Dasris, notable for the lush and impenetrable jungle that dominated its ecosystem. Various colonial efforts had been attempted there in the past, all of which had failed - whole expeditions disappearing into the dark canopies of the jungle, and after preliminary sub-atmospheric testing had revealed that the moon held no rare minerals and an abundance of snakes of up to 50 feet of size, only the occasional prospector made their way to its surface (the snakes themselves being an expensive addition to any Valaran menagerie).
Within the confines of the board room, the CEO of GloboHantex was joined by his various representatives and departmental heads, many of them appearing via hologram as they attended to business in various other sectors. Salashis J'Kara-Ni-Quifarra was one of the most influential beings in Kirr space, but the lizard-man wore the same indistinct black jumpsuit as nearly all other members of his race, and was of middling height and middling age. He was, in short, physically indistinct, but had a interstellar reputation for brutality and financial genius.
He was speaking, at some length, to his subordinates: "..there will be disruption amongst the various institutes of learning around the Empire. They will have to learn astronomy from scratch, essentially, and there will be considerable profit to be made in the production of learning aids and other such goods - including, of course, scientific instruments. We must dominate this market. Which of our subsidiaries can prove useful in this regard?" He directed the question at a holographic man to his left, the company's Director of Internal Management. There was a brief pause.
"...NovoAid Incorporated...Myriad Limited...YanTek-Harman... they all possess long standing contracts with the Valaran universities," Came the eventual reply. "We will work on renewing them and potentially increasing their worth in the wake of this event,"
'The event' Salashis thought to himself. It was always 'the event'. While the Valarans panicked and the Drax meditated, the Kirr had sprung into mediate action in attempting to find profit in what could have been the end of all existence. It truly was admirable. "Very well," The CEO said with a nod. "As for exploration? There could be new deposits of material available. Research tells us that the composition of this area is much different to that of what we knew before. Could it be that rare materials are in abundance here?"
One of the other Kirr physically present in the room piped up, a surprisingly thin Kirr female who served as the Director for Scientific Development. "Yes, sir, that is potentially correct. It is also worth noting that certain previously abundant materials may have suddenly become scarce-" This was met with various murmurs of excitement around the table. "-and we may have the opportunity to artificially inflate that scarcity, should profits falter in the wake of trade disruption," She finished with a satisfied smile.
The CEO smiled, revealing rows of sharpened teeth. He flicked his tongue out of his mouth pensively. This could turn out very good for business indeed.
Valara
Valar Major
Hirathaxis
The Aquamarine Senate
In the Valaran capital of Hirathaxis, it seemed as if the Senate was - for the first time in over three thousand years of existing - unsure of its own future and that of the Empire. The shimmering chamber, so named because of its construction from the shining Kirathani stone mined from the eponymous asteroid belt that ringed Valar Major, was in a state of disarray as various senators spoke over each other, argued, and - in a few scattered cases - panicked. The administrative body of the Empire had been in session since the first reports had come from the furthest reaches of the Empire of what was being dubbed 'The Great Happening', and senators had drifted in and out as the sky outside seemed to cycle rapidly between light and dark.
Outside, Valar Major seemed to operate as normal. Truth be told, the centre of the Valaran Empire was populated mostly by the elite of the Valaran race, many of whom had been totally lost for centuries for what sardonically called 'philosophising' by the industriously minded Kirr in an echo of what many of the leading Valaran aristocrats gave as their occupation on official census forms; essentially, they had become hedonists, content to try the newest pleasurable substances synthesised by the lizardmen and behave irresponsibly within the confines of their sprawling palatial pleasure yachts and homes. Hirathaxis, by contrast, eschewed the fountains of wine and the sprawling orgy-houses in favour of necessary but reluctant governmental and administrative efficiency.
The Senate House itself was an unspectacular building by Valaran standards, attached by an elevated bridge to the Imperial Palace that dwarfed it. The aquamarine, octagonal building, in truth, seemed more of an afterthought than an intentional part of the otherwise meticulously planned city, and that was true; it had been built in the wake of the formation of the Valaran Empire, while the rest of the city had been designed during the heyday of the Valaran independent Kingdom.
Inside, a particularly rotund Valaran was speaking at some speed. As he spoke, his language - in the clicks and whistles of the Valaran tongue - was translated at speed into both the hissing, guttural language of the Kirr and the chattering, quick language of the Draxakori'i. This was broadcast automatically into the minds of all of the senators by way of a small cybernetic implant in the side of the head:
"We have intelligence of the Red Dawn Cult operating at three times its original number since The Great Happening - some thirty million members are now said to exist among the Valaran race, all of whom are calling for the dissolution of the Empire and the death of the Emperor. They are a dangerous threat to the stability of the Empire--" He was suddenly interrupted by a Kirr female, dressed in the austere black jumpsuit that nearly all of her race seemed to favour.
"With due respect, Senator, that is an issue of Valaran rather than senatorial importance. You must deal with your own issues on a domestic level. There is nothing my people can do," She said condescendingly, to a chorus of hissing approval from her fellow Kirr and a few tentative hoof stomps from the Draxakori'i in the chamber.
The Valaran retorted quickly, his purple skin blushing to a magenta. "This issue will become of imperial importance when the Empire is threatened in all its facets. These may be Valaran religious terrorists, but they threaten the entire Empire's stability if their poisonous ideology is allowed to spread much further,"
It was the turn of the Valaran to sound their approval. They did so by simply clapping their hands together three times.
Another Kirr senator spoke now, an elderly male whose scales had begun to blacken with age. "Very well. We must advise the Minister for Domestic Security to act in a satisfactory manner to stop the spread of this poisonous ideology," He said sagely, nodding conclusively. There was unanimous agreement now. Deferring matters either to devolution or to a ministerial capacity was the senate's preferred method of doing as little work as possible.
***
Unknown Space
Valara
Valar Major
Hirathaxis
Imperial Palace
Emperor Kirathaxx XX was looking extraordinarily aged all of a sudden. At a hundred and eighty three, he was of an advanced age, and it seemed 'The Happening' had aged him further. His skin was a pallid violet, and it seemed as if there was a cloudiness or a confusion in his eyes as of late. Rumours abounded that he had fallen ill - others still, in the distant corners of the Empire, where news had spread slowly of The Great Happening, whispered that he had been murdered in the chaos. To the Minister for Scientific Development, Salassaia Thak A'Kira-Ak-Tarani, one of the brightest minds in Kirr-Space, he merely seemed weary. The Emperor had summoned her after what he had said was a particularly arduous meeting of the Valaran Verdant Council; the Kirr female suspected the scions of the great houses of the Valaran nobility were in much more disarray than the elites of their the Kirr or the Draxakori'i. After all, the Valaran had been happy with blessed, opulent, stagnation, and the Great Happening had shaken their once uncontroversial religion to demanding an end to the hierarchy with seemed to govern every aspect of Valaran behaviour.
Like anyone in imperial governmental service, Salassaia was equipped with a three-way translator. For his part - in order to avoid the indignity of cybernetic implantation - the Emperor held a small translator in his hand that spoke the female's words to him immediately following anything that she said.
"As I understand it, minister... we are unsure as to the root of this... event," The Emperor's words were relayed with pauses.
The minister nodded for a moment. "Your Imperial Greatness," She began with learned deference. "Kirr research stations indicate that nothing within the confines of the Empire has changed. Agricultural production remains stable, as do internal defence systems and other such technologies. We theorise that the whole Empire was - coincidentally - transported to some distant corner of the universe by some phenomena such as a large wormhole or other such occurrence," It was, truly, a roundabout way of saying that in Kirr space researchers were working with great haste to find out anything at all about the mysterious circumstances of the Happening.
"I see," The Emperor spoke after a moment. Salassaia had a sneaking suspicion that he did not, in fact, see, but said nothing. "We must map out the territory around us," He said tiredly.
"Yes, Greatness, ships from the various megacorporations are already making small excursions into the nearby space in order to see if any other sentient species survived the Happening. We are confident that the chaotic state of this part of the universe suggests the present of various rare or perhaps as of yet undiscovered minerals," The minister said, a touch of excitement creeping into her voice. It truly was a new opportunity to make a lot of credits. The Emperor seemed to register this and frowned slightly.
"The Drax are surprisingly quiet on this," He concluded carefully, then waved for Salassaia to leave, which she did immediately. It was never a good idea to try the patience of the Emperor and, besides, it seemed as if the wizened ruler needed a rest...
As she retreated from the chamber, the Minister retrieved her an ovular communication device from the pocket of jumpsuit. Tapping it with a scaled finger, a holoscreen popped up, showing the current stocks in Kirr space. They were flashing wildly. Unbeknownst to the Empire at large, Kirr space was engulfed in a trade civil war as the megacorporations wrestled for Imperial contracts to mount expeditions into the new space. One of them, InterGlex Corp, had constructed within a matter of days a huge dish that sent our periodic, powerful pulses in an attempt to find a response from any other sentient life, a decision that had been critiqued endlessly by various others as reckless and dangerous. Salassaia sighed, replacing the device in her jumpsuit, and stepped out of the Palace's throne room into one of the imperious atriums that composed the bulk of its interior, where members of the Valaran high aristocracy stood around in their variously ridiculous gem-studded multi-coloured robes, all of them chattering excitedly. The Kirr shuddered with distaste.
***
Unknown Space
Kirra III
GloboHantex Headquarters
Somewhere over Narax
The GloboHantex headquarters was, essentially, a mobile skyscraper - it was the administrative centre of an interstellar company, and so it only made perfect sense for the headquarters to be mobile enough to keep a true eye on mining operations, terraforming and ship production in person. Within, it was a flurry of activity as various members of the conglomerate hurried back and forth excitedly.
The Great Happening had affected the Kirr more than they would care to admit to either of their co-races in the Empire; for several hours, nearly all of Kirr space had went dark as an unknown pulse of activity knocked out nearly all communication and technology throughout the four systems that they called home. Even the great floating conglomerates had been reduced to hunks of metal as Kirr engineers had laboured to restore energy on a huge, uncoordinated scale. For a few moments - though many Kirr would be loathe to admit it - it had felt like a whole species had been plunged back into a day before even the most basic of technologies. Precisely why neither the Valar or the Draxakori'i were reporting any similar phenomena was a mystery.
The board room of the GloboHantex Conglomerate was housed at the top of the ship, with huge, multi-panel glass windows looking out into space. Today, the view was Narax, the gas giant that seemed to dominate the Kirra III system. Visible too was its moon Dasris, notable for the lush and impenetrable jungle that dominated its ecosystem. Various colonial efforts had been attempted there in the past, all of which had failed - whole expeditions disappearing into the dark canopies of the jungle, and after preliminary sub-atmospheric testing had revealed that the moon held no rare minerals and an abundance of snakes of up to 50 feet of size, only the occasional prospector made their way to its surface (the snakes themselves being an expensive addition to any Valaran menagerie).
Within the confines of the board room, the CEO of GloboHantex was joined by his various representatives and departmental heads, many of them appearing via hologram as they attended to business in various other sectors. Salashis J'Kara-Ni-Quifarra was one of the most influential beings in Kirr space, but the lizard-man wore the same indistinct black jumpsuit as nearly all other members of his race, and was of middling height and middling age. He was, in short, physically indistinct, but had a interstellar reputation for brutality and financial genius.
He was speaking, at some length, to his subordinates: "..there will be disruption amongst the various institutes of learning around the Empire. They will have to learn astronomy from scratch, essentially, and there will be considerable profit to be made in the production of learning aids and other such goods - including, of course, scientific instruments. We must dominate this market. Which of our subsidiaries can prove useful in this regard?" He directed the question at a holographic man to his left, the company's Director of Internal Management. There was a brief pause.
"...NovoAid Incorporated...Myriad Limited...YanTek-Harman... they all possess long standing contracts with the Valaran universities," Came the eventual reply. "We will work on renewing them and potentially increasing their worth in the wake of this event,"
'The event' Salashis thought to himself. It was always 'the event'. While the Valarans panicked and the Drax meditated, the Kirr had sprung into mediate action in attempting to find profit in what could have been the end of all existence. It truly was admirable. "Very well," The CEO said with a nod. "As for exploration? There could be new deposits of material available. Research tells us that the composition of this area is much different to that of what we knew before. Could it be that rare materials are in abundance here?"
One of the other Kirr physically present in the room piped up, a surprisingly thin Kirr female who served as the Director for Scientific Development. "Yes, sir, that is potentially correct. It is also worth noting that certain previously abundant materials may have suddenly become scarce-" This was met with various murmurs of excitement around the table. "-and we may have the opportunity to artificially inflate that scarcity, should profits falter in the wake of trade disruption," She finished with a satisfied smile.
The CEO smiled, revealing rows of sharpened teeth. He flicked his tongue out of his mouth pensively. This could turn out very good for business indeed.
In
The Intergalactic Collision of Entities (ICE) - A roleplay of science fiction.
→
9 yrs ago
Forum: Nation Interest Checks
[generic expression of interest]
Within the walls of the Verdant Manor, one could almost be mistaken in thinking that the world outside had not just been turned brutally upside down. Here, one could still here the soft cascade of water falling from the strategically placed fountains around the large, sociable gardens that wound their way leisurely up to the soft, curving stone face of the manor. One could still promenade aimlessly through the carefully arranged flower garden, or take a picnic under the shade of a great (imported) oak tree. The gardens, however, were empty of anyone but a lonely gardener tending the hedgerows, and Nasharia gazed out at them longingly through the window. Behind her sat a gaggle of noblewomen around a cast iron table.
The table was draped with a teal tablecloth, and upon it sat a curious brass instrument that one of more cultured manners would recognise as a teapot used for pouring the slightly bitter but highly invigorating nettle tea that Nasharia had made popular amongst the upper classes of Dara - originally a hill tribe delicacy, The Green Woman had taken some pleasure in introducing it as a natural and healthy alternative to other beverages to the often haughty social elite of the city. The chatter at the table was not as excitable nor joyous as usual, and a few of the women were clutching handkerchiefs and periodically dabbing their eyes.
The attack on the Guardians had been brutal, and it had taken with them some of the sons of these women, who had been serving as was required. The ladies had all flocked to Nasharia like frightened hens as soon as the news broke, coming to her with a thousand questions that she could not truly answer. After that, they had kept returning nearly every day, the herbalist and magistrate having unwittingly found herself at the centre of a sort of impromptu support group. Not that Nasharia was complaining - it would do good to keep the women under a watchful eye; they were not as politically adept as many of their husbands, and if one of them was to know something of import about what had truly happened to the guardians, then surely their grief would be as good a social lubricant as any other.
Alas, nothing had as of yet been revealed that would give Nasharia a clue as to the circumstances of the Guardians' demise, and she had been largely unsurprised when she was given the opportunity to fill one of their still warm and blood-soaked seats. In a way it was extraordinarily sad; she had expected one day to be offered the seat of a Guardian, but not under such brutal circumstances, and Nasharia had made friends amongst the slain Guardians and had began to cultivate them to her pleasure. Their deaths represented the waste of years of hard work.
.."-and Lataia's son too... he was such a good boy, and so strong," The chubbiest of the women was saying morbidly, shaking her head sadly. Nasharia remembered her to be called Jalia of Karinas, and knew from experience that she thought Lataia of Ryr's son Kalid was 'an oaf of the highest degree', and had refused the hand of her daughter Maera to him on the basis of his having too large a nose. Nasharia nodded pleasantly.
"We must focus on the rebuild now, my ladies. I trust you are all aware of my new appointment," The Green Woman said seriously. The ladies all nodded in careful unison and a quiet chorus of approval sounded for a moment; "the only lady... no better candidate... represents the interests,". Nasharia raised a hand to silence them. "Pleasure, my ladies, you shall make me blush. I want to assure you all that I shall do my utmost to represent the Daran spirit amongst my new fellows,"
"You shall need to," Quipped the eldest of the women, a tall, hawk-like woman with silver hair called Araine of Haskaji. "Amongst the vigilantes, halflings, barbarians..." She gave a short chuckle, and the other women all joined the derisive laughter.
Nasharia was in the middle of thinking of a reply when there was a knock on the door. One of her stewards entered, bowed deeply, and then spoke: "Madam, there is a meeting of the Guardians about to come to session. They request your immediate presence,"
She let out a sigh as if to indicate that it was a chore to attend to the matters of state rather than the idle chatting of the women, but inside she was secretly delighted to be shaking off these newly found sycophants. "Very well, my ladies, I must beg your leave. Please stay as long as you will like - my servants will provide you with whatever you should desire," She said apologetically, smoothing down her robe, and then left briskly.
Outside of the door she met her newly appointed lictors. Many of them were just adolescents, and Nasharia knew many by name and by family - she made a mental note to send all of the families gifts of some sort. She must keep those families on her side; it would only take one bribe to have one of her 'loyal' guardians slip a knife between her ribs. Nasharia purposefully eschewed her usual carriage in order to walk to the chambers of the Guardians - it was both a symbol of apparent defiance to whomever had slain her predecessors and also an opportunity for her new public to see their newest Guardian.
It was fortuitous that the official colouration of the Guardians was green, for Nasharia's wardrobe consisted almost exclusively of the colour, and on this day she had opted for a regal green robe that wrapped thrice around her waist, over her breast and then looped over her shoulder. It was somewhat restrictive, but relatively functional. The robe was trimmed with golden lace and studded at both wrists by shimmering rubies. Her hair was worn up in an elaborate style, held in place by several golden broaches studded with small emeralds. She had erred on the side of austerity, and wore no more jewellery apart from the beaten golden bracelet that she had been given all those years ago by her mother.
The streets were quiet, and as Nasharia made her progress through them she worried for the state of trade. It would, surely, be the second most important issue at the Guardians' table. Those who passed her progressing entourage seemed to pause for a moment, examining her critically, or else hurried past with heads low, keen to avoid the new authorities or - the thought struck Nasharia with a short pang of fear - scared to associate with them for fear of incurring the wrath of that or whom which had so brutalised their predecessors.
The ceremony that had enshrined Nasharia as a guardian had, at times, felt more a human sacrifice, the generally incomprehensible blessings of Anu and the unfamiliar rituals having dragged on for what felt like days at a time. At the end, a shaman from the hills had stepped up - barefoot, dressed in ragged robes with a circlet of sandstone around his aged and sun-spotted head, he had blessed Nasharia in the voice of her ancestors, sprinkling sand over her bowed hand and burning acrid smelling desert herbs - all of which, Nasharia reminded herself proudly, she had been able to identify This too seemed to drag on for an age, the old man relating the story of the great emerald city's demise as what felt to be a cautionary tale, but somewhere in the long and droning confines of his speech, Nasharia had felt the cold tendrils of something other reaching for her. It was the first time that she had been reminded of that fateful fight, the way that the icy tendrils of cold magic had wound their way like blood in water to find her, and the way that the damaged bracelet at her wrist had blazed with hot fire. She shook of the hard memories with a barely visible shudder.
The hall of the Guardians finally loomed into view, its great edifice marred by the black scorches that, like Dara's whole demeanour, reminded Nasharia of why exactly it was that she found herself at the city's helm. Leaving her retainers behind with kind words and grateful smiles that made more than one of them blush boyishly, she entered, sweeping past the servants and giving nary a glance to the general state of disrepair.
Nasharia took a seat, gazing around at her new co-rulers, all of whom she remembered and some of whom she had worked with for years. There was The Raven - as rough and as barbarous as he seemed, Nasharia was fully aware of Kanros' capabilities as a diplomat and, indeed, as a potential politician. There was The Blood Rider, too, who Nasharia had known as a trade partner and also a dealer of valuable information over the years. She was especially mindful of him and the ten thousand eyes that he employed to keep an eye on the city's inhabitants. Leytan, too, was present - a good friend to Nasharia for many years, she nonetheless worried that the monk was not the governing sort.
At first, The Green Woman listened placidly and calmly to the discussions taking place, making mental notes of what was said and nodding ever so slightly when she heard something that resonated with her. She had no intention of being one of the first to talk, in fact, but when Ephraim had spoken she seized the tense atmosphere to interject some words of her own. The chamber could not be allowed to explode into violent disagreement in the first minutes of its opening, after all.
When she spoke, it was stern but not unkind, and measured carefully. "My fellows. Kanros speaks justly - our first order of business must be to discover what it was that murdered our predecessors, and why. But in the meantime we must not let this city fall into chaos and disrepute; there is a tension in the air, even within this chamber, and if trade begins to falter and goods stop making their way through these streets I fear it could turn to outright panic and rioting,"
"Ephraim is right, of course, on one account; this was no corporeal beast. Between us we must have over fifty thousand paid eyes in every corner of this city," She said, casting a brief and playful glance at Landar. "It would seem correct to surmise that which caused these brutal scenes was not so natural as a beast," Nasharia paused, pursing her lips thoughtfully for a moment.
"But I must urge temperance, my fellows, on matters of the occult. We are all, I am sure, aware that we have differing opinions on matters of magic and its so-called outlets, but I cannot stand by and let this council descend into petty arguments and - moreover - death threats," She said, her voice becoming more steely, shaking her head disapprovingly at Ephraim. "We must stand together, for we all know that if we do not, then this city shall not stay together either, and we could meet the same fate as our predecessors in a matter of weeks. Our first priority is to maintain the stability of this city,"
"That does not involve starting a moral panic," She concluded, once again looking to Ephraim.
The table was draped with a teal tablecloth, and upon it sat a curious brass instrument that one of more cultured manners would recognise as a teapot used for pouring the slightly bitter but highly invigorating nettle tea that Nasharia had made popular amongst the upper classes of Dara - originally a hill tribe delicacy, The Green Woman had taken some pleasure in introducing it as a natural and healthy alternative to other beverages to the often haughty social elite of the city. The chatter at the table was not as excitable nor joyous as usual, and a few of the women were clutching handkerchiefs and periodically dabbing their eyes.
The attack on the Guardians had been brutal, and it had taken with them some of the sons of these women, who had been serving as was required. The ladies had all flocked to Nasharia like frightened hens as soon as the news broke, coming to her with a thousand questions that she could not truly answer. After that, they had kept returning nearly every day, the herbalist and magistrate having unwittingly found herself at the centre of a sort of impromptu support group. Not that Nasharia was complaining - it would do good to keep the women under a watchful eye; they were not as politically adept as many of their husbands, and if one of them was to know something of import about what had truly happened to the guardians, then surely their grief would be as good a social lubricant as any other.
Alas, nothing had as of yet been revealed that would give Nasharia a clue as to the circumstances of the Guardians' demise, and she had been largely unsurprised when she was given the opportunity to fill one of their still warm and blood-soaked seats. In a way it was extraordinarily sad; she had expected one day to be offered the seat of a Guardian, but not under such brutal circumstances, and Nasharia had made friends amongst the slain Guardians and had began to cultivate them to her pleasure. Their deaths represented the waste of years of hard work.
.."-and Lataia's son too... he was such a good boy, and so strong," The chubbiest of the women was saying morbidly, shaking her head sadly. Nasharia remembered her to be called Jalia of Karinas, and knew from experience that she thought Lataia of Ryr's son Kalid was 'an oaf of the highest degree', and had refused the hand of her daughter Maera to him on the basis of his having too large a nose. Nasharia nodded pleasantly.
"We must focus on the rebuild now, my ladies. I trust you are all aware of my new appointment," The Green Woman said seriously. The ladies all nodded in careful unison and a quiet chorus of approval sounded for a moment; "the only lady... no better candidate... represents the interests,". Nasharia raised a hand to silence them. "Pleasure, my ladies, you shall make me blush. I want to assure you all that I shall do my utmost to represent the Daran spirit amongst my new fellows,"
"You shall need to," Quipped the eldest of the women, a tall, hawk-like woman with silver hair called Araine of Haskaji. "Amongst the vigilantes, halflings, barbarians..." She gave a short chuckle, and the other women all joined the derisive laughter.
Nasharia was in the middle of thinking of a reply when there was a knock on the door. One of her stewards entered, bowed deeply, and then spoke: "Madam, there is a meeting of the Guardians about to come to session. They request your immediate presence,"
She let out a sigh as if to indicate that it was a chore to attend to the matters of state rather than the idle chatting of the women, but inside she was secretly delighted to be shaking off these newly found sycophants. "Very well, my ladies, I must beg your leave. Please stay as long as you will like - my servants will provide you with whatever you should desire," She said apologetically, smoothing down her robe, and then left briskly.
Outside of the door she met her newly appointed lictors. Many of them were just adolescents, and Nasharia knew many by name and by family - she made a mental note to send all of the families gifts of some sort. She must keep those families on her side; it would only take one bribe to have one of her 'loyal' guardians slip a knife between her ribs. Nasharia purposefully eschewed her usual carriage in order to walk to the chambers of the Guardians - it was both a symbol of apparent defiance to whomever had slain her predecessors and also an opportunity for her new public to see their newest Guardian.
It was fortuitous that the official colouration of the Guardians was green, for Nasharia's wardrobe consisted almost exclusively of the colour, and on this day she had opted for a regal green robe that wrapped thrice around her waist, over her breast and then looped over her shoulder. It was somewhat restrictive, but relatively functional. The robe was trimmed with golden lace and studded at both wrists by shimmering rubies. Her hair was worn up in an elaborate style, held in place by several golden broaches studded with small emeralds. She had erred on the side of austerity, and wore no more jewellery apart from the beaten golden bracelet that she had been given all those years ago by her mother.
The streets were quiet, and as Nasharia made her progress through them she worried for the state of trade. It would, surely, be the second most important issue at the Guardians' table. Those who passed her progressing entourage seemed to pause for a moment, examining her critically, or else hurried past with heads low, keen to avoid the new authorities or - the thought struck Nasharia with a short pang of fear - scared to associate with them for fear of incurring the wrath of that or whom which had so brutalised their predecessors.
The ceremony that had enshrined Nasharia as a guardian had, at times, felt more a human sacrifice, the generally incomprehensible blessings of Anu and the unfamiliar rituals having dragged on for what felt like days at a time. At the end, a shaman from the hills had stepped up - barefoot, dressed in ragged robes with a circlet of sandstone around his aged and sun-spotted head, he had blessed Nasharia in the voice of her ancestors, sprinkling sand over her bowed hand and burning acrid smelling desert herbs - all of which, Nasharia reminded herself proudly, she had been able to identify This too seemed to drag on for an age, the old man relating the story of the great emerald city's demise as what felt to be a cautionary tale, but somewhere in the long and droning confines of his speech, Nasharia had felt the cold tendrils of something other reaching for her. It was the first time that she had been reminded of that fateful fight, the way that the icy tendrils of cold magic had wound their way like blood in water to find her, and the way that the damaged bracelet at her wrist had blazed with hot fire. She shook of the hard memories with a barely visible shudder.
The hall of the Guardians finally loomed into view, its great edifice marred by the black scorches that, like Dara's whole demeanour, reminded Nasharia of why exactly it was that she found herself at the city's helm. Leaving her retainers behind with kind words and grateful smiles that made more than one of them blush boyishly, she entered, sweeping past the servants and giving nary a glance to the general state of disrepair.
Nasharia took a seat, gazing around at her new co-rulers, all of whom she remembered and some of whom she had worked with for years. There was The Raven - as rough and as barbarous as he seemed, Nasharia was fully aware of Kanros' capabilities as a diplomat and, indeed, as a potential politician. There was The Blood Rider, too, who Nasharia had known as a trade partner and also a dealer of valuable information over the years. She was especially mindful of him and the ten thousand eyes that he employed to keep an eye on the city's inhabitants. Leytan, too, was present - a good friend to Nasharia for many years, she nonetheless worried that the monk was not the governing sort.
At first, The Green Woman listened placidly and calmly to the discussions taking place, making mental notes of what was said and nodding ever so slightly when she heard something that resonated with her. She had no intention of being one of the first to talk, in fact, but when Ephraim had spoken she seized the tense atmosphere to interject some words of her own. The chamber could not be allowed to explode into violent disagreement in the first minutes of its opening, after all.
When she spoke, it was stern but not unkind, and measured carefully. "My fellows. Kanros speaks justly - our first order of business must be to discover what it was that murdered our predecessors, and why. But in the meantime we must not let this city fall into chaos and disrepute; there is a tension in the air, even within this chamber, and if trade begins to falter and goods stop making their way through these streets I fear it could turn to outright panic and rioting,"
"Ephraim is right, of course, on one account; this was no corporeal beast. Between us we must have over fifty thousand paid eyes in every corner of this city," She said, casting a brief and playful glance at Landar. "It would seem correct to surmise that which caused these brutal scenes was not so natural as a beast," Nasharia paused, pursing her lips thoughtfully for a moment.
"But I must urge temperance, my fellows, on matters of the occult. We are all, I am sure, aware that we have differing opinions on matters of magic and its so-called outlets, but I cannot stand by and let this council descend into petty arguments and - moreover - death threats," She said, her voice becoming more steely, shaking her head disapprovingly at Ephraim. "We must stand together, for we all know that if we do not, then this city shall not stay together either, and we could meet the same fate as our predecessors in a matter of weeks. Our first priority is to maintain the stability of this city,"
"That does not involve starting a moral panic," She concluded, once again looking to Ephraim.
I hope you don't mind me throwing my hat in.
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