Queen Raidne

Interference from the Higher Dimensions - SciFi Spaceship RP

I would've done a video call if our transmissions weren't still jammed. Though maybe they aren't on the very edge of the system? And I'm just going to throw this out there: I'm willing to ally with pretty much everyone. Especially the Trekkies, as we've already demonstrated that we have each others' backs.

Exile: A Sci-Fi RP On an Untamed World

Rare: Yeah, okay! Let's do it.
TheEvanCat: Interested in fighting off megafauna? Because I can make an opening at Kama Brahma if you are.

Interference from the Higher Dimensions - SciFi Spaceship RP

So, we've escaped for the moment. What next? My vote is that we find some Jedi before they're all dead. Or conveniently escape to a system where nondead Jedi are for repairs and tech upgrades. But we definitely can't take Palpatine on right now, and staying in this system seems hazardous to our health.

Exile: A Sci-Fi RP On an Untamed World

Wow. My post ended up a lot longer than I thought.

Exile: A Sci-Fi RP On an Untamed World

Pratchapadri City
The old Kolkatan designs of Old Town, preserved as historical sites, gave way to a wide swath of green - Counsel Park. A single, towering, silver-leafed brahmapura tree held place in the center of the park, living in pleasant ecological balance with Earth-based oaks and cherry trees. The brahmapura tree used the other mighty presence in the sky to fuel its ATP production - Brahmapura. Its leaves were specially designed to capture radiation from Brahmapura, giving them their characteristic tissue-paper thickness and silver color.

On the other side of Counsel Park, Pratchapadri City began in earnest. The financial district made for an impressive skyline, although it was somewhat short by old Earth standards. Buildings broke with the pale-colored and under-decorated Kolkatan style and exploded into opulence. Support pillars were made of marble; lush, colorful carpets and smoky lighting was standard in foyers; man-made waterfalls cataracted off of skyscrapers as an ecologically-friendly water feature; rooftop, balcony, and building-face gardens filled with colorful native (many, in fact, rather toxic) and imported plants were everywhere. Though air transportation was common in the less successful districts, those with wealth preferred to get around in the most extravagant and custom-made cars they could afford. Chandra Patil had even created a faux-gasoline powered town car, with carefully placed speakers and fume emitters replicating the sounds and smells of an old form of technology. It was, of course, certified green by the central government. Even so, Patil had ensured that the car, if necessary, could run on gasoline. He had even gone on a few drag races using a mixture of deconstitutionalized plastics and alcohol as fuel. He'd beaten the other ultra-rich participants only once. Of course, he himself hadn't participated - he paid a driver Robotic Intelligence to do so. After all, as a robot, its reaction times were likely well above his own. But the other ultra-rich - or their driver RI's, rather - had simply created better cars.

Very few people knew about this activity, of course. Dr. Moya Jain, Economic Counsel, was one of those few. She'd hired a private investigator to follow Mr. Patil. Honestly, at this point, she'd hired an entire detective agency to follow all the ultra-rich. The waste of money was staggering, especially when the farms around Pratchapadri were struggling. Many hadn't mastered the open-air agriculture that the previous Chief Counsel had enforced, and the subsidy program to assist them through the transition had grown bloated and convoluted, with dozens of loopholes thrown in. Agriculture, Dr. Jain knew, was a very lucrative investment right now. So long as you knew which loopholes to exploit, your company didn't even need to make money. It didn't even need to make produce.

Unlike the exterior of the Counsel building - located in the western edge of Counsel Park - the offices were much more Spartan in their decor. Sure, there was the standard marble flooring, and the Chief Counsel's office was decorated in the old Kolkatan style, but most of the offices were filled with holographic projectors, sheafs of paper, electronic messaging boards, and the other standard office fare. There wasn't room for much else.

Dr. Jain was turning over the Problem in her head. Days ago, the stock market had nearly crashed as a single investor had decided to retire and sell all his stock. That lone investor - now an ultra-rich - had set off a massive chain reaction as RI's instantaneously reacted to the sell. The only thing that had stopped it was a banker by the name of Kumar Mitchell. He had announced his bank's intention to provide millions in credit to stop the market's temporary slide as an act of generosity.

Companies and consumers alike were enamored with credit and awash in debt. Dozens of critical industries, including agriculture and manufacturing, were only being sustained by continued investment despite never once making a profit. New construction projects languished, waiting on some critical part or another from some factory or another. Meanwhile, people quietly ignored all the danger signs and flocked to easy entertainment. Jungle tours were a common distraction.

The National Party was advocating a new tariff to stabilize the economy, and Moya had no idea if it would work. Chief Counsel Demi wanted her report by the Counsel meeting today. That was only minutes from now. Sighing, Dr. Jain got up from her desk.

On her way to the Counseling Chamber, she stopped at the small coffee stand in the hallway. The Tkrai vendor, T'vorak, had almost become a friend. She always made sure to tip him well, at least. Even so, every time she stopped, she felt guilty. Coffee was absurdly expensive. The farms that were making it had to operate at a loss, so much of their crop was wasted. Meanwhile, they weren't producing useful goods - like wheat. But thanks to the subsidy program, she could get coffee. And, damnit, she liked coffee.

An RI butler opened the expensive mahogany door that lead into the Counseling Chamber. Discreetly hidden away in the bottom left corner, she could just make out the Timbeross logo.

Chief Counsel Demi was already seated at the head of the arc-shaped table, also mahogany. The table and the door were the room's two nods to the important businesses of state that happened here. And the marble floor, of course. The walls were plainly painted, the lights were recessed in the ceiling, and even the chairs were simple dense plastic and fabric.

Diplomatic Counsel Tikrik's fur was bristled. Security Counsel Vivek had a particularly serious face today. Evidently Moya wasn't the only one with bad news.

"Let's get started," Demi said. She had her own coffee from the Tkrai vendor. "Vivek?"
"I've held my tongue until now. Patil's mercenaries are now a full third the size of our expeditionary forces," Vivek said. Demi frowned. Vivek continued, "We cannot allow a private citizen to hire what is essentially his own army within our borders. I suggest decisive legal action."
"Can't we hire more mercenaries?"
"For what purpose? To start a civil war? And what money do we have? My budget is constrained enough as it is," Vivek said. He shot Moya a glare.

This meeting was starting well.

"With the agriculture subsidies, I'm giving you as much as is reasonable," Moya said.
"Oh, damn the farmers! And damn their backers! They spend money making coffee while we sit in a 'safe' zone on the border of a militarized police state that could invade at any minute!" Vivek said. Moya slowly moved her coffee off the table and into her lap.
"Our relations with The Coalition are currently and have historically been cordial," Tikrik said.

Vivek exchanged a glance with Moya and then Demi in the awkward silence that followed. Vivek had made his opinions on a Tkrai attempting to handle human diplomacy known, in private, at a very awkward meeting with Demi and Moya.

Demi took a sip of her coffee.

"Your counsel has been noted, Vivek. Anything else?" Demi asked, attempting to formally end Vivek's initial report.
Vivek continued after a moment. "No news from expedition 23 yet. Another week and we'd better go after them. The Civil Disruption Task Force hasn't given me any news about the Morganists or the Workers United. In this case, no news is good news."
"Very well. Tikrik?" Demi said.

Vivek's eyes widened in shock. The order that these meetings had always gone in put Tikrik last. Moya was only amused at Demi's small snub. It seemed like a very Demi thing to do, and Moya had never much cared for the formalities of politics.

Tikrik cleared his throat - a much higher-pitched sound than a human would normally make.
"Relations are, for the moment, cordial with our neighbors. However," and here Tikrik's fur bristled again, "I believe that it is time we sent diplomatic envoys to the Tkrai nations."
"Are you out of your mind? Do you remember the riots when we outlawed slavery? There would be lynchings! Of us! Of you!" Vivek said.
"My safety is not a concern of state," the Tkrai said.
"Well mine damn sure is. Your people are already equals in the eyes of the law. Why should we stir up trouble by announcing an alliance with the b-Tkrai!"
"I do not propose an alliance. I merely-"
"You think the Order would see the subtlety between 'diplomatic relations' and an alliance? Do you think that Timbeross would continue selling us lumber if we declared friendship with their 'workers'? Nothing good can come of this. It's too soon!"
"Gentlemen," Demi said. Her words cut through the budding argument. Demi locked eyes with the two Counsels. After a moment, she turned back to Tikrik. "Your counsel has been noted. Anything else?"
"No, Chief Counsel."
"Good. Moya?"

Moya's stomach churned.

"The National Party's proposed tariff," she started, intending to get it over with, "I have no idea what effect it will have. While it will certainly serve to decrease imports, that may not even be helpful. Our problems seem to stem from a failure to have economic restraint rather than international competition. But preventing foreign companies from undercutting our businesses might stabilize the economy long enough to create a positive GDP growth."
"So you've spent the last week researching this proposal only to say..." Demi prompted.
"I frankly don't know if it's a good idea or not."
"Is there anything you do know is a good idea?" Demi asked.
"If there was I would have already implemented it."
"The market nearly crashed a few days ago and that's all you have to say? You don't know?" Vivek said.
"The stock exchange subsequently stabilized thanks to the actions of Mr. Mitchell," Tikrik pointed out.
"Yes, but we can't keep injecting money into the market forever. People will lose confidence," Moya said. "And their confidence is already shaking. I fear that with such a great number of buyers earlier this year, we may see an even greater number of sellers soon. And, honestly, the stock market is our only real economic powerhouse at the moment. Manufacturing plants are slowing down. Businesses are content to buy from Tri-Star Mining rather than exploit our own resources in a sustainable manner. Agricultural subsidies have resulted in a bloated industry. And if Kangchai loses confidence in our stock exchange, they may withdraw, flooding the market with shares, and forcing us to settle our debt to them in a less mutually-beneficial manner. We can't afford to lose the stock exchange."

The room was silent.

"Thank you for your counsel, Moya. Anything else?" Demi said.
"No," Moya said.
"Then this meeting is ended."

Demi had already made up her mind on two of the issues raised. They'd send a diplomatic envoy to the largest Tkrai tribe - Tikrik would know which, surely. And they would begin an investigation into the necessity of Kama Brahma's mercenaries. Surely that madman didn't need quite so large an army. The tariff, however, she would need to think about.

~o~0~o~
Kama Brahma, outside the Safe Zone
Chandra Patil, ultra-wealthy owner of Kama Brahma, smiled with pride before continuing with his speech.

"And so, you should count yourselves very lucky to be the first to witness these majestic creatures in their natural habitats. As I cut this ribbon," here he raised the oversized scissors, "I now hereby officially welcome you to the soft opening. Welcome to Kama Brahma!" He cut the ribbon. The crowd - wealthy and elite from every country - cheered and clapped politely. As he smiled and waved, an aide ran up to him and whispered something in his ear. Chandra excused himself from the platform gracefully, quietly thankful for the ban on filming this event. The crowd began to disperse into the guest center, admiring the exotic fossils and exhibits on Brahman biology. Sections of the guest center were closed off with men in neatly-pressed uniforms guarding the entrance. A buffet in the corner with a fully trained French chef served guests plates of meats and cheeses. Beyond the windows, the steep cliffs of the island gave way to tranquil lake water, until the far end of the crater rose up again, meeting the untamed jungle on the other side.

Chandra followed the aide out the guest center's doors and into the sweltering Brahman tropical heat. A granite path ran from the plush guest center to the hotel, branching off to the tour path. RI drivers waited to whisk guests off to those enclosures currently open to the public, deep into the jungle. Two more hotel buildings were still under construction, and a sign pointed out that the Marine Life center was still "Coming Soon!". Mr. Patil and the aide turned off the main path into a nondescript concrete building marked "Employees Only".

"What do you mean, security concerns? What do you think I'm paying you people for!" Chandra asked the mercenary leader. The man was remarkably clean and neat for a mercenary.
"Many of my men are not comfortable working so close to these animals," Jock Jonsson responded.
"That is no reason for them to wander off while-"
"If you would excuse me, Mr. Patil," Jonsson grabbed a handkerchief from his neatly-pressed suit and blew his nose silently, "but they did not wander off. They were chased off. This-"
"So your men are afraid of a [b]bird[/i]? We've beaten back Mayura for years! Are you less competent then the men who came here with nothing but the ships they landed in? I've given you the best equipment, the best training, the best everything. Damn you, take what your given and do your job!"
"This incident with Dr. Katra was regrettable, but I assure you that we're-"
"Enough with your assurances! Go do your job before another xenobiologist loses her legs!"

Jonsson neatly folded the handkerchief and placed it back in his pocket. He paused, about to say something, thought better of it, and left out the door.

Holo-screens filled the air in the control center, briefly washed out by the hallway light as Jonsson left. Dominating the wall was a map of Kama Brahma. Augmented Reality glasses - the standard requirement of a control room tech - overlayed the map with interactive information depending on the job of the wearer. Power grid, plumbing, containment field integrity, animal health, motion tracking, weather, even a financial map of which exhibits cost the most and which were the most economically efficient.

Mr. Patil grabbed a pair of AR glasses and slipped them on. He toggled through the menu until he could see the soft open's tour path, overlayed with guest information and animal locations. The guests would only be able to see three of the eight megafauna enclosures. The Pratchapadrian government wouldn't allow him to tour guests past four of the carnivorous animals until enhanced security measures were put in place. Chandra had fought tooth and nail for the Mayura exhibit, and had finally worn the government down, but only on the condition that- ah, here was the man now, damn him.

Dr. Wilson Brahms, ecological expert, was here to "supervise" the opening. "Let's hope that nothing else untoward happens today," Dr. Brahms said.
"The security force in charge of the enclosure has been dealt with," Chandra said.
"I should hope so."
"Perhaps you'd like to sit in the viewing area?" Chandra asked, gesturing to the glass-enclosed sitting room toward the back.
"Very well," Dr. Brahms said, temporarily leaving Mr. Patil alone.

Chandra went back to examining the guests. While they were important people, they weren't very important people. The invitations to the various heads of state, entertainment stars, and chief executives were waiting in his inbox. Until the guests from this round of tours had safely gone through the park, the invitations wouldn't be sent out. So confident was Chandra, that he'd set his inbox to automatically send the email at the end of the day.

Hours later, he was proven right, as the park performed perfectly for the day, and the guests were peacefully resting in their hotels. He sent the invitations.

Interference from the Higher Dimensions - SciFi Spaceship RP

May I presume that it's okay for me to take over the SS13 station?

Edit: Reposting WrongEndOfTheRainbow's sheet here with formatting for my own sanity. You can safely ignore this.

Sheet

Ship Name: NTRS Exodus
Ship Class: Mobile Station
Ship Wikia Link and Image
Notable Crew:
+Captain: Chris Donut, a drunkard who doesn't actually do any work. He's largely considered a figurehead.
+HoP: ???: A mysterious man, he often disappears quickly into the shift. Calls for job changes and new IDs go unanswered. The detective is on a constant quest to find this mythical Head of Personnel. His department consists of a chef, a bartender, four Botanists, a QM, three Cargo Techs, four shaft miners, and the assistants.
+HoS: Vladimir Rein, considered the person in actual power of the station, he and his security officers enforce a strict brand of preemptive justice (which often means grouping up to dogpile and harm baton the clown). His department consists of two lawyers, a magistrate, eight security officers, a noir-style detective, a warden, and two brig physicians.
+CE: Dylan Riker: He's different from the RD and CMO in the way that his department actually listens to him, most of the time. His department consists of eight engineers, three atmospheric technicians, a mechanic (Who's a megalomaniac who wants nothing more then to get a scan on a gun and gleefully use his new toy.), and the maintenance drones.
+CMO: Sploosh, a slime person. He does everything in the medbay because everyone under him does fuck-all. His department consists of two chemists, six medical doctors, a psychiatrist, two surgeons, and three geneticists.
+RD: Halinder Meack, he's essentially the teacher of a class of retarded manbabies who have the capability to destroy the entire station. His department is a hive of scum and villainy, and don't actually listen to him at all. Under his (Technical, but not in practice) command, there is five scientists, two roboticists, three xenoarcheologists, two xenobiologists, and Ol' Harner the guardbuddy.
+The Clown: Honkers Wonkers, robuster and thief extraordinaire. A veteran of the Clown-Mime war, he has a hatred for Mimington.
+The Mime: Mimington, a silent expert of the arts, he is a veteran of the Clown-Mime war, and the assassin of King Squiggles the Eighth. The clown wants his head for this act.
+The AI: Commie Bot 9000, an AI who is looking for every chance to commit mass homicide while constantly spouting Communism propaganda. He is in command of four engie borgs, three medical bots, a mining bot, four service bots, and five security bots.
+Officer Beepsky: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hu3D1yH2WYM (He is THE LAW.)
+The Graytide: The wave of assistants who are the rival to Security, they never remove their badge of honor - the gray jumpsuit - and know whether to report a crime or not based on the color of the criminal's clothing. They never give up on fellow assistants, and one being arrested means the rest will arm up with improvised weapons and raid the brig. They can usually be found yelling about how superior assistants are compared to the rest of the crew.

---

Pre-Departure Scene: The detective leaned back in his chair, eying the television screen beside him. A view of the Botany department flickered on the screen, where the Botanists could be seen hard at work growing food and weed alike. He, five minutes earlier, had managed to find the HoP's fingerprints on the maintenance door in there. The Botanists had told him they were all too high to have noticed anybody coming in. Yet another trail, gone cold. He reached forward slowly, taking a pack of cigarettes from the top of his desk. Flicking the top of the packet open, he drew one of the tobacco rolls and put it in his mouth, coolly popping the top of his Zippo open, lighting the end of the cigarette in a single smooth movement. The station was quiet. Too quiet. Where were the explosions? The screams? Was there a stealthy wizard, or a Syndicate Nuclear crew in disguise? Perhaps Changelings or vampires? A traitor with the affinity for the silent? Perhaps the AI was malfunctioning, and biding it's time to activate the self destruct?

He emerged from his chair, packing up his forensics equipment. If there was villainy happening, then he would be the one to find it. Perhaps he could even locate the HoP in his search. As he walked to the door that lead to the hallway, the station suddenly shook, nearly throwing him to his feet. A klaxon blared for a moment, before being drowned out by the robotic voice of Commie Bot 9000. "Warning," it called, "the station is now entering a Macho ring. Perhaps they will teach you filthy capitalist pigs a lesson."

The radio burst into chatter moments after, filling with the doom sayings of the crew.

"We're fucked!"
"Welp, I'm out of here."
"OH GOD HE'S PILEDRIVING ME"
"Micro men spotted in Enginee-Gaaah!"
"They just broke into Genetics!"

He drew his .38 shooter, a gun of old that packed a punch, though he knew it would do little to a Macho Man. Even a single Macho Man could destroy the station, let alone the hundreds smashing against the hull, breaking through with ease. For a moment, he contemplated the escape pod. It wouldn't work, the Macho Men could easily catch up to such a craft. The station suddenly trembled, as the sound of a thousand of them rang out.

"I WOULD LIKE TO THANK THE WRESTLI-"

They never finished. There was a blinding flash, then silence.

Interference from the Higher Dimensions - SciFi Spaceship RP

"One new transmission," the computer said.
"Jason!" Gwen said. The bridge was filling with smoke, making it harder to see. But Gwen had heard a thump from somewhere behind her. Guy's console was a burnt mess, full of exposed wires. They weren't going to be firing weapons soon. Behind the chrome command chair dais, Gwen could just make out Jason's hunched figure. He wasn't moving. As the vibrations from the latest series of hits died down, Gwen leaped up, leaving her chair spinning. Guy was still screaming.
"He's not moving!"
"Tommy, get us out of here!" Alexander commanded.

Guy's screams drowned out everything.

"Shut up, Guy!" Tommy shouted. He didn't stop.

Gwen felt for a pulse. His arm was warm, thank God. And there was a pulse, too. Knocked out, not dead. She should... she didn't know what to do. Gently, Gwen layed Jason on the floor.

"Tommy, leave, now!" Alexander shouted again. Their current course and speed was taking them closer to the V-wings than was necessary.

Gwen got knocked to the floor by another explosion. She sat down by Jason, still not sure what else she could be doing.

"Guy!" Alexander said. "Oh, for the love of-." Alexander walked over to Guy and slapped him. Guy stopped screaming. "There. Now, Tommy, get us out of here!"
"What the hell do you think I'm doing, man?" Tommy retorted.
"Well, do it faster!"

Tommy twisted the throttle all the way open.

The Protector II turned away from the Venators and smoothly accelerated. Tommy's console smoothly kept track of their speed in the completely useless unit of "Marks". Mark 1... mark 2... mark 3.... The V-wings were starting to lose pace. Mark 4... mark 5.... The viewscreen flickered as the computer compensated for visual distortions due to travelling at light speed. The Protector II smoothly accelerated to light speed, and then just kept going. Mark 6... mark 7... mark 8. His console beeped, and the display changed from a radar screen of some sort to a map of known local space. A straight line was marked through it. In the upper corner, it said "Computer assisted navigation". At mark 10, the console beeped again, and changed to "Computer-controlled navigation."

The Venators were long gone, and the V-wings, of course, were incapable of travelling faster than light. A luminal boom lagged behind the ship - fleeting distorted afterimages of the Protector II as it traveled through real space at speeds faster than light.

"I think we lost them!" Tommy said. He twisted the throttle to zero. The ship decelerated, smoothly dropping below light speed without so much as a bump.

Years ago, when the Thermians were first building the Protector II, they'd been faced with a conundrum. Though the original Protector had a boost, it was also obviously capable of breaking the light barrier without it. After all, the historical documents had the ship travelling from system to system in days and hours, not the years and months it would take otherwise. Yet the ship never accelerated visibly or audibly except for the extremely quick one-minute boosts. As a matter of fact, the viewscreen didn't even distort. It had been one of Mathesar's team's greatest triumphs in the recreation of the Protector - to not only implement a faster-than-light in realspace solution, but also do it without any visible or audible change. Humanity was one very advanced species.

So, while the heroes of the Protector were sighing with relief, Mathesar was smiling, briefly. It had occured to him that, despite the great triumph that the Protector II was, it was obviously flawed. He had seen the crew escape far worse situations without even getting damaged, but the ship was severely damaged. What did he do wrong? Perhaps they had missed something. Many sections of the ship had had to be extrapolated, like the bathrooms. Many parts still puzzled him, like the crushing hallways, or the pipes that went nowhere and emitted steam, or the pipes that went nowhere and contained glowing plasma, or the two rec rooms, both nearly identical, but mirror images of each other. Surely these systems all had a purpose, but without the knowledge of precisely where the pipes terminated or the purpose of the crushers, they'd had no choice but to include them and assume they were integral to the functioning of the ship somehow. Indeed, they'd utilized the crushers to syphon off some of the excessively generated power.

"Finally," Alexander said. They were alone. Save for the other ships that were arriving.
"Mathesar, Jas-Commander Taggart's hurt," Gwen said. Mathesar leaned down and picked up Taggart effortlessly. He carried him to medbay.
"One new transmission," the computer said.
"Computer, play transmission," Gwen said.
"Transmission translated from morse code. Transmission reads: Hello. Do you need help?"
"Yes!" Tommy and Alexander said simultaneously.
"Computer, please reply that we would like help. Invite them to our conference room," Gwen said.
"Transmission sent."

~o~0~o~
OOC: Anyone who can read morse code can get that message, by the way.

Interference from the Higher Dimensions - SciFi Spaceship RP

Oh no! Bye, SS13.

Edit: If you'd like, I could take over RPing the station. I'm familiar* with the game.

*

Goddamnit, why can't I stop playing that game.

Exile: A Sci-Fi RP On an Untamed World

My post is nearly done, I just have a couple of things.

1. Everyone: If you need a place for a company headquarters or something, feel free to use Pratchapadri City, my captiol. We've got a stock market! ...We may also be suffering a crippling depression coinciding with the rise of pseudo-terrorist organizations with their own agendas soon. Fair warning.
2. Everyone Again: Anyone have mercenary companies for hire? I've got a theme park and police force for you to work for.
3. Pepperm1nts: Megafauna. Should I just start inventing some, or do you have some that I can shove into Kama Brahma in your mind? I'm looking for a few particularly dangerous ones and one or two relatively harmless but impressive ones. You know, like Jurassic Park had dinosaurs.
4. Cayden Black: What's the relationship between our two nations? We do share a border, and I'm going to become... a rather unstable state. Thanks, economics. As a matter of fact, Mr. Military, if you'd like to invade to maintain peace and order, that might be fun! :)
5. Jeddevan: Same question. Because we share a border and my nation may become very unstable.

Exile: A Sci-Fi RP On an Untamed World

Sovi3t: There is, in fact, a great big vein of mineral wealth buried underneath one of the prime National Parks. Everyone knows it's there, but nobody dares to mine it. Well, nobody respectable dares to mine it. Illicit and covert mining operations have been going on for years. Many Robotic Intelligences, in fact, owe their lives to this deposit, as it's where the silver that made them came from.

Other than that, there are a couple of much less enticing deposits scattered about. Feel free to mine in Pratchapadri, just beware of the extensive legal environmental impact paperwork that you have to do. Or at least, have to half-heartedly "adhere to" while inspectors are around. Oh, and I expect that I'd be a fairly large customer of yours, heedlessly burning through valuables like my nation does.