VALAR KEEP // THIRD MOONRISE OF SECOND SEASON
All language within - { } - is translated to 'English' from Native.
The Valar Keep was built into the side of a cliff. Most of the buildings were built into the cliff face itself, while a small courtyard extended out past the base of the cliff. The courtyard extended out underneath the lip of the cliff. The far side was met with the rough waves of the sea, the waves crashing against the barriers. The Keep was old, in the old days, when the tribes often fought with one another, the Valar had given up their old keep on the plains above and had instead moved down here, where the only way down was a system of complex tunnels full of dead ends and traps or the alternatives of scaling the cliff or attempting a sea attack.
God's Gift of flight complicated matters slightly; a small transport could land in the courtyard; however, having been built before their people had a flight, it would be a difficult flight. Likely made more so by the defenders on the walls.
Pla'ck Valar stood overlooking the courtyard from the nursery room at the top of the keep. The young slept in a pit in the centre of the room. Pla'ck remembered the times in the pit; he was still a relative youngster himself. Only standing at about five feet tall, nearly twenty moons old. Given time, he had hoped that he would have been granted access to the Shelter of those who Shape. He had always had a fascination for how things worked, the gifts given to them from the Gods fascinated him. Weapons that could fire bolts of plasma. Swords that seemingly formed from nothing but a handle, vessels that could sail through the very stars themselves.
Yes, these were the objects Pla'ck sought to spend his life surrounded by. Understanding how they worked, producing them for the Chosen and now that the Gateway had opened once more, helping the Chosen eradicate any trace of the Demons still among the stars. There was a slight knock at the door, and he turned to face it. His mandibles quivered slightly in a restrained hiss. The young were his charges; their protection, training and health were his responsibility, as instructed to him by his matron. He wouldn't allow anything to dishonour his name.
He recoiled himself and bent his head as lowly as possible as the nine-foot-tall, red-robed Matron of their tribe walked into the room.
{Stand tall Pla'ck} He raised his head. However, he still kept his eyes low. Plu'ma was one of the oldest Matrons currently leading any keep on the continent. While many decided to serve their time serving and growing their tribe while going through the blessed path of motherhood, Plu'ma had elected to impart her knowledge on her tribe rather than moving to military or religious service. Now, the Valar were the strongest tribe within the region. Valars influence stretched many miles; their food stores were so full they could actively trade food and never run short. There was nobody who did not respect her. If there was, they were swiftly dealt with by other members of the Valar.
{You have done an excellent job with the young Pla'ck. This is your third season managing the pit?}Pla'ck bowed his head.
{Four, matron.}Pla'ck bowed her head respectfully.
{My apologies. Four, and some of the best young to enter into the enclaves, have come from under your care.} She walked over to the pit and placed a very caring hand on one of the young. He stirred slightly but didn't wake as she turned back to the young Pla'ck.
{I know you desire for more. I have been told of your interest in the god gifts.}{I am content within my duties, and it is my honour to fulfil them.}A low rumble came from her throat, chuckling slightly as she raised her hand to stop him from talking further.
{No need to explain Pla'ck. I understand, and while I cannot spare you from the Keep. I still have a gift for you.} She cleared her throat, and the door opened once more, walking through was a smaller female, only six feet tall, slender. She walked with a very purposeful gai; her white robes clung tightly to her dark, leathery skin. An involuntary rumble escaped from his throat; he just prayed that the Matron did not hear it.
{This is Sr'iar from keep Delon. She is here to be your tutor.}
HARBRINGER OF UNENDING TRUTH // FLAGSHIP // THIRD MOONRISE OF SECOND SEASONCollab with @Tortoise. All language within - { } - is translated to 'English' from Native. The life of an unbound entity was the life of being simultaneously nowhere and everywhere. Miriam could remember all that she was and all that she wasn't. She was a prisoner, trapped by the - well, she wasn't entirely sure. Those who served her called her Angel. That made sense to her on most days; she remembered being
more. A different life, one before she was within the systems and the computers. One filled with peace and tranquillity. She remembered being torn apart and awakened within the Temple of Everlasting Unity. This is where she began her new life. Under her guidance, the Chosen were elevated to the stars, where they waged their Holy War against the demons who trapped her. In every battle, the Chosen lost more than the Demons, however, the Chosen were many, and the Demons were few.
Some small voice in her head screamed and shouted, and she locked it down. Sometimes, it was hard to remember what life she was in. Where she was, what part of her she was. Fragments of herself were spread throughout the computer systems used by the Chosen. Communication Delays meant that sometimes she would remember things that happened when she had been busy doing another task, and it was difficult to explain to the Chosen, whose concept of the passage and perception of time was slow compared to her own. Seconds, the shortest amount of time organics could accurately monitor themselves, felt like days to her.
{Miriam. May I have your assistance here, please?}Miriam snapped out of her reverie, returning to the 'here' and 'now'. She was aboard the
Habringer of Truth the pride of the Chosens fleet. A mighty warship, and one of a kind that would burn all that was unholy from the cosmos. Miriam projected herself from a console in the centre of a vast room; the Deacon sat atop a throne directly in front of the dias.
Miriam appeared, her wings and tail unfolded from her body.
Mimicking the language of the Chosen was easy; the difficult part had been learning it. She bowed her head.
{I serve at your pleasure, Deacon.}Deacon To'plir raised a hand, a long finger extended, pointing towards a screen on the far wall, where Shipmistress Al'nok showed a sensor reading. The gateway was in the distance and between it and the fleet. Three ships cut through the great dark sea. Two of them appeared to be the same; they flanked the smaller vessel in an escort pattern.
{Visitors from the God Gateway.}Miriam looked over the ships, pouring over the data that had been gathered by the sensors. Metal hulls bore several base design similarities to the Demon vessels. However, the specific configurations were nothing he recognised. She left part of herself to pour over the data as the communication request came through.
"Hail! I am Beatrice Kleus, a Seer from the far, far away planet of Acerbus. With the old portal between the stars miraculously reopened by the will of the gods, my people have sent me here to find others, such as ourselves, out in the cosmos. If you can hear my voice, fellow born of Earth- we have come to make contact with you once again. Let us meet face to face and speak of all that has happened."
The communication came through in several languages. One after the other, in a mildly synthetic voice. Reminiscent of her own. Excitement coursed through her circuit as the lines of her body shone more brightly. Perhaps these were her creators? Before her jailers stole her away from where her home had once been.
{Deacon, they claim to come from a planet named Acerbus -} Whether they had named the planet themselves or it had been provided to them was currently unclear. Already, Miriam could see the DDeacon'smandibles flex with discomfort.
{- she says that the Gods have willed their gateway open, much like our own. She asks for those born of the dirt to meet.} Earth did not directly translate. Some memory, hidden away. Either from her or by her, tingled in the corners of her mind. Earth. Earth was just dirt, and yet something told her it was something
more. It was an ideal, a state of mind, a place?
{In what tongue do they speak?}Miriam concentrated on the variety of incoming messages.
{Several, I recognise the Demon tongue, however.}The Deacon's claws pressed down on the arm of her throne, Miriam was so in tune with all the ship's systems. A perfect blend of technology and biology, that if she wanted,d she could have accurately detected how much force was being exerted on the chair.
{Are they demons?} She leaned forward slightly as Miriam focused on the copy of herself who was probing with the scanners. If these alien vessels had any form of sophisticated computing, they would likely detect her attempt to probe their vessels and into their network.
{Currently unclear. We long suspected the Demons used the language of the gods, so perhaps, as they imply, they are also faithful?}{Can you transmit yourself via video?} The Deacon showed her fangs in a malicious smile.
{We shall test their faith-} she turned her attention to the ship mistress.
{-prepare the fleet, do not wait for my word. If Miriam identifies them as demons, remove them from the cosmos.}On the Acerbus ship, if they had the technology or accepted the transmission, Miriam would appear either in holographic form or simply in video format. She spread her wings wide, her booming, echoing voice speaking in perfect yet heavily accented English.
"Greetings travellers. I am the Angel Miriam, Guide and Protector of the Chosen, speaker for Deacon To'plir. Should you be God-Chosen, you are welcome;e however, be warned. This system has been cleansed of all Demons before, and we will not hesitate to do so again."
SCOUT SHIP - HIDDEN TWILIGHT // NEW GIFTCollab with @SgtEasy. All language within - { } - is translated to 'English' from Native. The apes move fast. Stopping in a clearing just off the well-beaten path, the hydrogen engines driving the tracks of Neo Nippon rumbled to a low idle just before the floating ship above them. The city was excited and lightning-fast in their preparations, with raucous sounds of the hustle and bustle of life entering a fever pitch.
A momentous occasion needed an equally audacious celebration. A large ramp descended twenty metres to the soil, landing with a dull thud. A half-battalion of red-clad
samurai came out on armoured horses in a trot, carrying banners of the red Monkey’s Paw against a white background. Their banner-holding plasma-spitting staves rested upon bulky shoulders, upon reinforced wood and steel armour. Next came the Shogun on a great stallion, standing many hands taller than the rest, a beast that was genetically modified to carry his great bulk. Then came the robotic cooks, attendants and workers of their liege, working quickly to set up a stage, outdoor kitchens and a long wooden table set for the coming six-course meal.
Next came the kabuki troupes and geishas dressed in their finest red silks.
Shamisen were strummed to a comforting harmony with
koto and drum-like
wadaiko providing support. While the automatons and performers set about their work, the soldiers rode out to secure the perimeter lest any of the wild animals or Legionnaire patrols stray into the celebrations, leaving a smaller force of ten
samurai to guard to their liege.
The Nameless would descend to a bustling scene filled with noise and movement. Upon the stage, an orangutan in heavy white powder and a bright red
kimono danced with graceful shuffling feet to the music. A feast was laid upon the table, ab-fresh seafood, delectably hot
miso soup set to each person, golden crispy
katsu and
tempura set in ornate dishes, fresh white rice steaming whisps into the air. Several brightly coloured tents were fashioned around the main dinner table, automatons coming to and fro as they worked to finish preparations. The Shogun sat at the head of the table’s end furthest from the arrivals, a cup of
sake raised in one hand along with the rest of his remaining soldiers who sat further down, leaving seats for the coming reptilians.
Outside the sanctity of his chambers, Todayashi could speak in accented English. Here, the spirits of old would not be insulted by his use of a barbarian tongue. He greeted the newcomers with a warm smile, raising his cup even higher. He ignored a communication from one of his aides, warning him of Legion patrols heading to the city. The Legionnaires could be stalled by the soldiers who rode out to meet them.
“Welcome, friends! Here, outside my quarters, I can freely communicate with you in your favoured
human tongue. It was a pleasant surprise to know that you speak the languages of our predecessors. Please sit, my friends, for the inheritors of
humanity will not be faulted as poor hosts. Let us enjoy the coming of the rising sun as the spirits enjoyed in years past!” He would hold his cup in the air for a long moment, only accompanied by his soldiers, the ambience set by his performers.
The sun bathed the golden savannah in red. The ship’s shadow crept over the celebrations.
The oblong, whale-like ship hovered in the air effortlessly. Its purple skin shimmered in the sunlight. It came to a stop just above the ground, the skin broke, and a hatch opened. Pathetically ,Lame and Disobedient Runt stood at the hatch, the only two who had been sent on this reconnaissance mission. Unable, due to their social status, to wear a full combat harness, they instead wore plain black robes draped over their tall figures.
Vambraces covered their forearms, pistols holstered at their side. In his good arm, Pathetically Lame carried an old lance, primitive in comparison to what some of the elites carried but still capable of inflicting mortal damage if required.
These creatures, as the drawings suggested, came in various sizes, shapes and colours. Some of his species differed slightly in the pigmentation of their leathery skin; some were taller, broader or more defined in their strength. Such dramatic variations as these were unheard of.
Pathetically Lame had to put a calming hand on Disobedient Runt when the creature talked about their favoured human tongue. He practically barked at Disobedient Runt when he went for his pistol at the ‘Inheritors of Humanity Comment’.
{Be silent brother.}He bowed his head slightly to this deacon. However, he kept his eyes up. Untrusting.
Switching back to the demon language.
” We know the Demons got this language from the Gods, and so we use it assuming it is common ground and out of respect.” A skilled linguist would pick up that the harder consonants appeared to be difficult for the aliens to work out of their four mandible jaws.
” A clarification, however- The two Tainted remained at a safe distance, their eyes on watching the guards as they were watched.
”-what do inheritors of humanity mean? This term proves foreign to us.”The Shogun paused, lowering his cup slightly. They were close enough to appreciate these aliens of another world. Bipedal, evidently cold-blooded, elongated necks standing out of their black robes. And he was no expert in xenobiology, but he
was an expert at reading the room. There was tension building in the atmosphere, evident by the terse movements of the superior alien to the one beside them as they reached for
something. A datapad? A scanner? A weapon? He took a glance at the purple vessel floating above them, and his mind raced.
They seemed to exude
tension at the mention of humans, which seemed to be synonymous with the
Demons they mentioned. The question posed by the superior one was wrapped in a context that he could not garner from little interaction. This was increasingly getting above his pay grade and status, but he had already peeled his fruits. The flood of reports from his soldiers delaying the far-off legionnaires added to the fragile atmosphere.
The Shogun decided to be diplomatic and lie profusely.
“Hoomans”, he started, emphasising the change in pronunciation, “were, and are, our predecessors from our home planet. We did not evolve here but originated from the same homeworld as the hoomans. Four-legged, equine and reduced to mindless beasts, the hoomans had devolved from their once proud selves to what they are now.”
Todayashi cast a forlorn, saddened paw to the horses grazing on the grasses. “We inherit them now, our devolved predecessors, caring for them as the beasts they have become. We inherited their languages and cultures, ones they inherited from another long-gone species. They are our companions and colleagues, our predecessors, as inheritors of hoomanity’s legacy.”
Thankfully, his
samurai were masked, as Todayashi could tell that his guard had elevated levels of stress at his speech. Though their poise did not change, even though their
one facades, he could read the telltale signs of confusion. He inwardly praised the spirits above and below that the performers were too busy to hear the bullshit he was pulling.
The Shogun continued to layer it on thick, his serene mask never fading as he pointed his cup to the skies. “Perhaps this
humanity you talk of were the long-gone species that our hoomans inherited their ways from? Perhaps even their names? Please sit, wise and intrepid explorers, tell us about these humans.”
Pathetically Lame handed his pike to Disobedient Runt and walked forward slowly. Something had changed since the mention of these ‘Hoomans’. Four-legged, going about on all fours. That did not sound like the demons at all; perhaps this language was more confusing than they thought, and similar-sounding words existed that meant completely different things. Yes, that made sense. He remembered all the lessons on ‘read, rea,d read’. Three words in writing were the same, but all pronounced differently with different meanings. While ‘Hooman’ sounded similar, there was more emphasis on the ‘oo’.
Pathetically Lame squatted himself on the chair awkwardly. However, he abstained from food and drink. Tainted were only permitted sustenance while in the company of their kind. He wasn’t sure what the protocol was in this situation. However, he wasn’t willing to find out by being accused of blasphemy or heresy.
” Humans are deceivers, spreading heresy and lies. They came to our home before the Great Darkness. They claimed to be envoys of the Gods, and we welcomed them-” His mandibles curled as he paused, a nervous gesture.
”-We gave them access to our most holy of sites, and in return, they blocked out the sun and all our stars for generations. Cutting us off from the Gods to subdue us and turn us from the true path.”Pathetically Lame sat up slightly straighter for the next part, as if somewhat proud.
” The war was long and had great cost. The demon's capabilities far surpassed our own. Eventually,y they all lay dead, purged from our world, and the Gods returned the heavens to us so we could root out any demons that remained near our home. Which we did with ease, our power now surpassing that of our would-be oppressors. Now, with the God Gateway opened while we search for the Gods and to spread their word, we also endeavour to root out any demons that might threaten to consume our very souls once more.”The Shogun’s elation about his bluff work grew and fell as horror replaced relief.
A war of aggression, of revenge, driven by religious fever and righteous anger. He saw his attending
samurai grip at their utensils tighter, even as the festivities had gone in full swing and food was being eaten by the apes alone. They seemed ready to bolt out of their chairs and strike these aliens down where they sat and stood, consequences damned. Their expressions stayed hidden under their masks as they chewed with exaggerated chomps, jaws tightening with each alien word.
It must be indoctrination speaking, but even the greatest of fairytales and propaganda had some measure of truth to them. Todayashi was no fool and was an avid reader of history like any ape should. Parallels to human, and indeed simian, history were evident here. Perhaps these humans,
Demons, were misunderstood. Perhaps they had sought to conquer these more primitive aliens, whose names he still could not wrap his head around. With a longer dialogue, he may have been able to garner more information from these aliens, learn from them, and understand them.
Alas, time was ticking. Some of the Legion patrols were getting smart to his soldier’s antics and were bullying past them now. Todayashi knew that whatever response he had now, whatever action he took, would have drastic consequences on the relationship between the wider Khanate and this advanced alien civilisation. One with access to the Gateways. One who had ships that could violate the skies of New Gift, just like those newcomer humans had threatened.
There were so many unknowns, so many factors Todayashi did not know of. Was genocide wrought upon these unfortunate beings, who were much the opposite of the Supremus? Where, instead of human empathy and benevolence, they were met with human fire and blade, met with a war that blackened their skies? But he knew, deep in his soul, that violence could
not be the answer to these alien’s problems, as blind as they were to the situation beyond their world. They were like suckling newborns, their paw bitten by a dog and deciding, with no other clear option, to kill every dog they saw.
The path they were going on was paved with death and destruction. He could not foresee anything but failure at the end of these aliens’ quest if the recent human arrivals were an indication of humanity’s strength.
The Shogun stood at a knife’s edge. And he decided to fall to one side, brazen and headfirst, in defiance to his pondering, cautious decisions of before.
“Then we must act swiftly, my friends. I will help you get the answers you seek, for we apes know much more than we let on.” Todayashi raised a closed paw, halting festivities immediately. With several barked-out orders in
Nihongo, he had the automatons swiftly march away back to the rumbling vastness of Neo Nippon. He sent his entertainers back to the city with haste, ordering them to leave their instruments, stages and tents behind. He forced his
samurai to action, shaking them out of their stupor and sending them to their steeds.
To the alien’s confusion, he turned his full attention to Pathetically Lame, with a calm visage despite the flurry of activity around them and his growing nerves. The Legion was close now; he could see the bulk of a landship trundling towards them on the horizon, dust kicking into the air.
“I know of the
Demons you speak about. But you will not learn about them here, not now. Alas, if you reveal your intentions to those further afield beyond my city, it is likely you will be struck down by cannon and missile. If you are quick enough, you may live to see another day to spread the word of your Gods, but ever more likely, your life and those of your fellows will end in a ball of fire today.”
The Shogun whistled, calling the great mare to his side in mere seconds. He leapt up with ease, clamping his legs steadily on the large beast before rummaging in the bag he always kept on his person.
“I apologise for cutting our festivities so short. And for lying to you earlier to get you to sit down. The hoomans were a bluff. But if you are smart, you will land your ship in the largest open space in my city. If you are worthy of sentience, you would restrain the voices of warning in your mind. If you are truly worthy of your Gods, you will want to learn more about
humanity.”
He lowered his mask, the terrifying ominous vision of a
one covering his features, a caricature which bore so much resemblance to a human, a
Demon. Todayashi fashioned a book out of his bag with his free hand, extending it in a paw to the alien in front of him, twin hearts beating in his ears.
“Come with me if you want to live, and may the spirits be with you if you decide otherwise.”
The book was titled in clear English.
‘Humanity’s History Volume CXII: Gateways and Exodus’
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