LiotrentDid some editing to my post to account for some discussions I had with Bilbo. Last paragraph was changed.
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@BlackRose There's just the one star system in this RP...
Star Port City of Pavliu
Neon Tipsy Bar, Upper levels
Ademnon took a long swig from his glass, not really tasting the strong liquor contained within. He was half tempted to let the alcohol hit him, switching off his circulatory scrubbers and letting the ethanol reach his brain. Hell, he could even get his neural synthesizers to help the process along. Alchohol can worsen symptoms of depression. The thought awkwardly lurched its way through his mind, prompted by his cortical processor. Ademnon snorted into his drink. Apparently newer generation cortical processors delivered such prompts much more naturally, so smoothly you didn’t notice. But Ademnon’s tech was old. He was old. Old, tired, and depressed. His implants actively fought the latter, pumping him full of the appropriate hormones and fighting off physiological changes, but they seemed to be fighting a losing battle. It was all so pointless, Ademnon thought for the umpteenth time. The war here on Tarin, the broader conflict with the Federation, all of it. Perhaps he should have stayed on Aurolia and fought them. Perhaps then things would be different. Or perhaps he and every Concordat would be dead, relegated to a short chapter in the Federation’s history.
He shifted his attention back to the room around him, unobtrusively watching and listening. At the same time, he reviewed his ‘memories’ of the last few minutes. Even though Ademnon had been absorbed in melancholy introspection, his implants had dutifully recorded all his sensory input. A group of Federation soldiers was of particular interest, but ultimately not very informative. Just another in a series of ongoing rumours about Federation black ops on the moon. Still, it was good to know their morale was taking a hit, something Ademnon’s own forces did not have to worry about. He made a show of checking his wrist chrono; obviously Ademnon had no use for the device, but a normal Ishkaan would, and that was what Ademnon was supposed to be. Tarin had precious few security scanners that could pick up Concordat implants, and those were mostly focused around sensitive military areas. As far as anyone in the bar knew, he was just an average nobody, certainly not the legendary Ademnon, the first Concordat, military mastermind, horrifying amalgamation of man and machine, 20 feet tall with gold plated cybernetic limbs and optic lasers that could obliterate a tank. Everyone knew that’s what Ademnon was, not a plain looking Iskaan who was a little on the short side. Still, he was taking a tremendous risk coming to Pavliu. But he liked field work, and lately, he especially liked taking risks. There was no telling what the Feds would do to him if he was caught. Well, actually Ademnon was fairly confident his implants would make him immune to interrogation and he doubted the Aurollians could disable or remove them without killing him.
The First Concordat briefly considered trying to cajole more information out of the group of Federation soldiers. Perhaps buy them a few drinks to loosen their tongues. Perhaps ambush one of them alone, perform a quick and dirty memory scan. But no, the first option would draw too much attention to him and wasn’t likely to be very successful. The second option was even riskier and less likely to succeed; the Feds had long ago learned to condition their soldiers against the sorts of tricks they knew the Concordat in its arsenal. It would take days in a lab to bypass that conditioning, and somebody would notice if a soldier disappeared from Pavliu for that long. Abducting a Federation soldier was also the kind of inflammatory incident Ademnon was trying to avoid. Best to keep the cold war nice and cool.
He checked his chrono again, although he already knew his shuttle was leaving in a few hours. It would take him to a neutral settlement, and from there he would make his way back into Mining Union territory. But to stay on Tarin, or return to Dawn? He knew a Concordat frigate was on a ballistic approach to the planet, more or less invisible against the emptiness of space, especially considering the lackluster state of Tarin’s satellite arrays. It wouldn’t truly enter orbit, instead just swinging around the moon’s gravity well before coasting silently away, never once emitting anything more detectable than the tiniest puff of a maneuvering thruster. Ademnon could be home in a matter of days, with precious few people ever knowing he’d ever been on Tarin, let alone deep in the heart of Pavliu. But then he thought of Sendema, and the desire to go home withered. Better to help direct the war here than face Sendema’s scheming and plotting. With the matter settled for the moment, the old soldier ordered another drink.
Concord Dawn Station
Concordat Capital
Sendema found the immaculate white corridors of Dawn as soothing as ever. She floated past intersections and hatchways, occasionally pulling a grab bar to redirect herself. Unlike some Concordat facilities, Dawn made no effort to comfort its inhabitants with the trappings of planetary life. No gravity, no arboretums, no anachronistic decor, certainly no windows, just gleaming efficiency. Sendema loved it.
She arrived at her destination, and a hatch slid open after verifying her identity. A few people looked up as she entered, but none greeted her, much to her relief. Sendema’s disdain for unnecessary chatter was well known. The room was dominated by a large holoprojector displaying the Jalaryias system. A portion of it was zoomed in on Aurollia, the lush garden moon from where the Concordat had come. Another portion was zoomed in on Tarin, where quite literally the Concordat’s future lay. Renthulium. It was the one thing the Concordat could never get enough of. In Sendema’s mind, the key to Tarin was Aurollia. Instead of mucking around with the Guilds and Miner’s union, they should attack the Federation directly, ending the threat they posed once and for all and securing Tarin’s wealth for the Concordat. That was why she was here in the Strategy Room. She came here once a day for at least an hour to sift over the latest reports on the Federation and will her enhanced brain to think up a way to end them.
As usual, there wasn’t much new to report about Aurollia. The Federation’s world was well protected, and distant flybys with recon drones were all the Concordat could really manage. The Federation often returned the favour, peppering known Concordat facilities with recon drones of their own. Of course, Dawn was not one of those known facilities. Only members of the Star Chamber knew where Dawn was on a permanent basis; the information was otherwise only distributed on a need to know basis, and even then it was usually in the form of degenerating neural info packets that erased themselves after a time. Secrecy was Dawn’s best defence.
A thought transcribed into her implants and directed to the room’s network shifted the holographic map. A few people registered complaints over the network, but Sendema overruled them with her Star Chamber authority. She scrolled through Jalaryias’ garden moons one by one, then paused on Tremara. Less than a week ago, the Tremarians had contacted the Concordat via Sanctuary, and expressed their interest in opening negotiations. Their representatives would be arriving at the Concordat's civilian hub in a few short days to begin discussions. Sendema was due to depart Dawn in a few hours to go meet them. She was fairly confident she knew what they wanted, and what they were willing to give her in order to get it. Ademnon would never have approved of what she was planning, but then he'd made the mistake of going to Tarin. She was willing to pay the Union's price, if it meant defeating the Federation and securing the future for the Concordat.
Neon Tipsy Bar, Upper levels
Ademnon took a long swig from his glass, not really tasting the strong liquor contained within. He was half tempted to let the alcohol hit him, switching off his circulatory scrubbers and letting the ethanol reach his brain. Hell, he could even get his neural synthesizers to help the process along. Alchohol can worsen symptoms of depression. The thought awkwardly lurched its way through his mind, prompted by his cortical processor. Ademnon snorted into his drink. Apparently newer generation cortical processors delivered such prompts much more naturally, so smoothly you didn’t notice. But Ademnon’s tech was old. He was old. Old, tired, and depressed. His implants actively fought the latter, pumping him full of the appropriate hormones and fighting off physiological changes, but they seemed to be fighting a losing battle. It was all so pointless, Ademnon thought for the umpteenth time. The war here on Tarin, the broader conflict with the Federation, all of it. Perhaps he should have stayed on Aurolia and fought them. Perhaps then things would be different. Or perhaps he and every Concordat would be dead, relegated to a short chapter in the Federation’s history.
He shifted his attention back to the room around him, unobtrusively watching and listening. At the same time, he reviewed his ‘memories’ of the last few minutes. Even though Ademnon had been absorbed in melancholy introspection, his implants had dutifully recorded all his sensory input. A group of Federation soldiers was of particular interest, but ultimately not very informative. Just another in a series of ongoing rumours about Federation black ops on the moon. Still, it was good to know their morale was taking a hit, something Ademnon’s own forces did not have to worry about. He made a show of checking his wrist chrono; obviously Ademnon had no use for the device, but a normal Ishkaan would, and that was what Ademnon was supposed to be. Tarin had precious few security scanners that could pick up Concordat implants, and those were mostly focused around sensitive military areas. As far as anyone in the bar knew, he was just an average nobody, certainly not the legendary Ademnon, the first Concordat, military mastermind, horrifying amalgamation of man and machine, 20 feet tall with gold plated cybernetic limbs and optic lasers that could obliterate a tank. Everyone knew that’s what Ademnon was, not a plain looking Iskaan who was a little on the short side. Still, he was taking a tremendous risk coming to Pavliu. But he liked field work, and lately, he especially liked taking risks. There was no telling what the Feds would do to him if he was caught. Well, actually Ademnon was fairly confident his implants would make him immune to interrogation and he doubted the Aurollians could disable or remove them without killing him.
The First Concordat briefly considered trying to cajole more information out of the group of Federation soldiers. Perhaps buy them a few drinks to loosen their tongues. Perhaps ambush one of them alone, perform a quick and dirty memory scan. But no, the first option would draw too much attention to him and wasn’t likely to be very successful. The second option was even riskier and less likely to succeed; the Feds had long ago learned to condition their soldiers against the sorts of tricks they knew the Concordat in its arsenal. It would take days in a lab to bypass that conditioning, and somebody would notice if a soldier disappeared from Pavliu for that long. Abducting a Federation soldier was also the kind of inflammatory incident Ademnon was trying to avoid. Best to keep the cold war nice and cool.
He checked his chrono again, although he already knew his shuttle was leaving in a few hours. It would take him to a neutral settlement, and from there he would make his way back into Mining Union territory. But to stay on Tarin, or return to Dawn? He knew a Concordat frigate was on a ballistic approach to the planet, more or less invisible against the emptiness of space, especially considering the lackluster state of Tarin’s satellite arrays. It wouldn’t truly enter orbit, instead just swinging around the moon’s gravity well before coasting silently away, never once emitting anything more detectable than the tiniest puff of a maneuvering thruster. Ademnon could be home in a matter of days, with precious few people ever knowing he’d ever been on Tarin, let alone deep in the heart of Pavliu. But then he thought of Sendema, and the desire to go home withered. Better to help direct the war here than face Sendema’s scheming and plotting. With the matter settled for the moment, the old soldier ordered another drink.
Concord Dawn Station
Concordat Capital
Sendema found the immaculate white corridors of Dawn as soothing as ever. She floated past intersections and hatchways, occasionally pulling a grab bar to redirect herself. Unlike some Concordat facilities, Dawn made no effort to comfort its inhabitants with the trappings of planetary life. No gravity, no arboretums, no anachronistic decor, certainly no windows, just gleaming efficiency. Sendema loved it.
She arrived at her destination, and a hatch slid open after verifying her identity. A few people looked up as she entered, but none greeted her, much to her relief. Sendema’s disdain for unnecessary chatter was well known. The room was dominated by a large holoprojector displaying the Jalaryias system. A portion of it was zoomed in on Aurollia, the lush garden moon from where the Concordat had come. Another portion was zoomed in on Tarin, where quite literally the Concordat’s future lay. Renthulium. It was the one thing the Concordat could never get enough of. In Sendema’s mind, the key to Tarin was Aurollia. Instead of mucking around with the Guilds and Miner’s union, they should attack the Federation directly, ending the threat they posed once and for all and securing Tarin’s wealth for the Concordat. That was why she was here in the Strategy Room. She came here once a day for at least an hour to sift over the latest reports on the Federation and will her enhanced brain to think up a way to end them.
As usual, there wasn’t much new to report about Aurollia. The Federation’s world was well protected, and distant flybys with recon drones were all the Concordat could really manage. The Federation often returned the favour, peppering known Concordat facilities with recon drones of their own. Of course, Dawn was not one of those known facilities. Only members of the Star Chamber knew where Dawn was on a permanent basis; the information was otherwise only distributed on a need to know basis, and even then it was usually in the form of degenerating neural info packets that erased themselves after a time. Secrecy was Dawn’s best defence.
A thought transcribed into her implants and directed to the room’s network shifted the holographic map. A few people registered complaints over the network, but Sendema overruled them with her Star Chamber authority. She scrolled through Jalaryias’ garden moons one by one, then paused on Tremara. Less than a week ago, the Tremarians had contacted the Concordat via Sanctuary, and expressed their interest in opening negotiations. Their representatives would be arriving at the Concordat's civilian hub in a few short days to begin discussions. Sendema was due to depart Dawn in a few hours to go meet them. She was fairly confident she knew what they wanted, and what they were willing to give her in order to get it. Ademnon would never have approved of what she was planning, but then he'd made the mistake of going to Tarin. She was willing to pay the Union's price, if it meant defeating the Federation and securing the future for the Concordat.
Jared // Thael
LOCALE // The City of Thorinn
TIME // Morning
LOCALE // The City of Thorinn
TIME // Morning
Thael had just located Elian amidst the chaos of the lawn when he was suddenly accosted by a flaming snake. The creature began nipping at his ankles, emitting a string of angry hisses as it did so. Thael looked down at the serpent, bemused. It twirled around him in a hypnotic display of light, before he reached down and delicately grabbed it in one armoured gauntlet. The snake hissed again, and Thael frowned at it plaintively. “What did I ever do to you smol pupper?”
An opulently dressed brunette came cursing after the snake. Thael offered it back to her gingerly. “I your dog has autism,” he said with a grin.
The weird fella with the baseball hat was a lot taller up close than she expected. She almost feared for Teddy's fate and was about to blast the wall of armour with some dragon fire but he handed her buddy back to her. The joke that accompanied Teddy confused her, then confused her a bit more then after about thirty seconds she cackled. "Now that you say that, he's been hissing at me all day and he's really burning up! Maybe he has a fever? Elian! Teddy has a fever!" Usually moaning in the general direction of a healer resulted in something.
Thael laughed loudly and turned his attention back to the assembled group. There was a small collection of players with Elian, some of whom Thael recognized. Hawkwood and Ebon, as fellow Tyhriens, were not close friends but certainly familiar faces. Welcome ones at that. Hybridized builds had become increasingly useful as Pariah grew. The game didn’t really have onerous DPS checks, but bosses did deal loads of damage so anyone who could contribute to healing was always welcome. Indeed, even Thael and his traditionalist ways had conceded the usefulness of adding a few healing and damage skills to his roster. Besides Elian, Ebon, and Hawkwood, there was a blonde man in a leather coat was unfamiliar to Thael.
“Good morning scrubs and scrubettes,” he called out with a big smile. “Are we ready to get moving, get pwning, and most importantly, GIT GUD? For those that do not know, I am Thael, and I will be using my hella strongth and toight aggro to tunk for you today.
Woot woot! All aboard!
@BilboTheGreat Sounds good. Would there be a lot of non believers fleeing persecution?
Oh, I think I'll put this in under Other on my NS but everyone should definitely refer to Concordats as Conks. Everybody needs a nickname.
@JuliusCaesarThee Concordat is pretty keen on trade if you like. Also not sure if you've been following the conversation, but would Vesia have a lot/any downtrodden masses who would end up with the Concordat?
@JuliusCaesarThee Concordat is pretty keen on trade if you like. Also not sure if you've been following the conversation, but would Vesia have a lot/any downtrodden masses who would end up with the Concordat?
<Snipped quote by Ozerath>
Wait, that sentence doesn't add up. Did you miss a word?
Lel whoops. Will NOT make up any significant chunk of the population.
@NarcissisticPotato Didn't catch you in discord so I'll ask here. Besides, the OOC could use some loving.
Does Theodore have substance, or is he intangible?
Does Theodore have substance, or is he intangible?
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