@Timemaster Good to have you back :)
Sigma
Member
- Last Seen: 1 hr ago
- Old Guild Username: Sigma
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 2552 (0.64 / day)
- VMs: 3
-
Username history
- Sigma 11 yrs ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
Lunamaria Hawke,
Snowdrops,
MrSkimobile,
Hos,
Ozymandias,
LimeTime966,
BigPapaBelial,
LadyAmber,
Chronic,
Liotrent
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
In
Through the Gateways: Humanity [Closed] [Soon to be Concluded]
→
3 yrs ago
Forum: Nation Roleplay
In
Through the Gateways: Humanity [Closed] [Soon to be Concluded]
→
3 yrs ago
Forum: Nation Roleplay
Collab between @Sigma and @Irredeemable.
Zeta-5
Irregulars Landing Zone.
The mass retreat had begun, the ECU protectors, no matter the training, were woefully unprepared for the onslaught the Zetans had instore for them on the surface. Thus, the order was finally given for all protectors to pull back. A vast array of Columbia-based mercenaries had volunteered to aid the ECU in their conflict with the Zetans, and it seemed that help had arrived in the nick of time.
Several large shuttle craft were placed in a circle pattern around the landing zone, a company’s worth of soldiers in light power armor were in position, setting up sandbags and portable machine guns and mortars. Among them was Gideon, former heavy weapons expert of the Gravemakers, clad in his personal armor. “Alright you maniacs!” He shouted over the intercom. “We’re to hold the LZ at all costs, and cover friendlies as they retreat, take out any cogheads while you’re at it!”
With the protectors on the run, the Zetans had pushed back, and, for the first time since the invasion had begun, re-surfaced. They knew what the ships coming down meant, and they were determined to not allow them to secure a landing. As the shuttles came down, and the mercenaries established an LZ, waves of Zetans threw themselves into the fray to dislodge the invaders.
These were some of the creme de la creme of Zetan forces. The Elysium sector had always been the best defended, and the fighting had only resulted in their production cycles becoming more optimized, and their soldiers more veterans. Few humans were among the soldiers here on the surface, and those that were in largely auxiliary roles. Of course, they were- on the surface, the Zetans could finally field-test their new equipment.
Recon warforms, equipped with long ranged rail rifles, had set themselves up in advantageous positions. With range, and without the fear of destroying their surroundings with radiation, they could lay down fusillade of accurate, gunpowderless fire, magnetic shots raking the mercenaries whenever they were foolish enough to expose themselves.
Up close, the surface also meant that the Zetans were no longer restricted to their smaller warforms. For the first time in the conflict, medium warforms had been deployed, with their thicker armour and heavier armaments. Gouts of flame curled through the air, jellied fuel creating choking smoke, whilst heavy machine guns chugged and thumped.
All in all? It was the typical hell that the fighting on Zeta-5 had descended into.
The mercenaries looked in sheer horror as the Zetan Warforms made their approach, following the fleeing protectors close behind. “Jesus Christ…” one of the mercs let slip, his arms trembling as he held his rifle closely. “Steady now ladies.” Gideon spoke, his hand raised. “On my signal, give them hell.” The protectors ran with all the might they could, knowing full well the nightmarish metallic beasts were perusing them.
Once they were within range, Gideon gave the signal. “Open fire!” The mercenaries popped from cover as they unleashed a volley of bullets and rockets against the warforms. Chipping off pieces of the medium warforms but like the machines they are, they kept advancing. “Focus on the big ones!” One of the mercs shouted, before long, his head had exploded into a bloody, Gorey mess, followed by several more as the recon warforms begun their own attack. “Shit! We got snipers!” Gideon shouted! “Get out of their line of sight!” The mercs, in a last-minute effort, scattered, looking for suitable cover from sniper fire.
It was clear that the Zetan warforms, as powerful and impressive as they were, were not invincible. Under return fire the medium warforms stumbled and collapsed, and although sparks and juddering movement showed them to be still functional, enough systems were taken out that they were no further threat. Still the beings pressed on though, and now, from the rear of the line, missiles began to streak through the skies, launched from some kind of rocket artillery battery.
It wasn't just a physical fight that the Zetans had prepared for either- they were also targeting their opponent's morale. As they drew closer, it was clear the Warforms had received their own unique decorations- kill counts, depictions of Zetan and Earth predators and insults. They lacked the true individuality of the pre-war anti-hunting warforms, but the effort that had been put in was clear.
There was more to their efforts than fancy paintjobs- some of the warforms had been retrofitted with speakers, and, as they charged forward, they let out a menagerie of sounds. From some, warcries, from others, pounding music, and from others still, deliberately high or low-pitched noises designed to unsettle and disturb the mind. It was quite the effective blend.
The mercs, now broken in formation, had scattered to wherever felt safe, random rock formations, the shuttles themselves, and some crazy bastards that stood their ground around the sandbags. Regardless of position, whoever was left kept the fight up. One mercenary still held on to his post at the machine gun nest, cackling like a maniac, undeterred by the Zetan’s attempts at psychological warfare as he unleashed a hail of lead on the advancing warforms. “I can do this all day!” He shouted out.
Gideon and two other soldiers were holed up in one of the shuttles, looking out at the few who remained. “Crazy fuckers all of you.” He said as he looked to one of them.
“You got what you paid for, pal.” One of them replied, taking potshots at the enemy, suddenly going limp as he fell victim to another sniper shot.
Sigma-Neumann, recon warform AC-3843, scratch off another one. The recon warform lacked the physical capacity to feel satisfaction in a robotic body, but... What other way to describe this warm feeling inside them was there? As they ejected the spent fission battery and exposed the already-destroyed landscape to another dose of greys, they took a moment to glance up, to where their original body hung, lifeless, in space.
It was hard to feel sympathy for the invaders, even as they became test subjects, to be exposed to chemicals, radiation, extreme weather and new weaponry. They had taken Zetan lives. Taken Zetan bodies. Taken Zeta itself, and now they were only reaping what they had sowed. It was... Karmic.
Shouldering their rifle once more, they centered their sights onto the soldier manning the machine gun, barely able to get an angle betwixt the hastily put up fortifications. There was the crack as the sound barrier broke, the hiss of the rail-rifle's cooling systems, and the silence of the nest. 'Rifle' was, of course, the wrong term for such a weapon, as they lacked any real rifling, but the coiled mechanisms that propelled the slugs suited well enough... And besides, they were far more destructive than any rifle they carried down in the depths.
The slugs didn't so much impact a target as they did crater it. When they made contact, they tended to flatten out, creating a miniature shockwave that crushed through the target shortly before the projectile itself did. If the target was fortunate enough to survive the initial shot, they might have had a good chance at survival, considering that the slugs tended to pass through the body rather than stay stuck in, but the gaping, pouring wounds were rather hard to shrug off.
Was this really it though? This small infantry incursion? After all they had faced, all they had driven back, they were being met with... Nothing greater than they had already overcome?
Gideon peeked out once more, making a quick survey of the battlefield as the mission all went to shit in quick succession, a good handful of the protectors made it aboard one of the shuttles, unfortunate that some were casualties both from Zetan snipers and some due to…friendly fire, that’s an embarrassing one.
Regardless, the objective was partially complete, all that had to be done was clear the LZ of hostile forces or die trying. “Fall back to the shuttles!” Gideon ordered. “We make our stand here, and get the hell out!” Those that remained complied with their commander’s orders, a quarter of the company’s strength returning the shuttles, leaving behind the corpses of their comrades at the mercy of Zeta-5. The retreat wasn’t a clean one, a few more fell as the Zetan Warforms crossed over the makeshift fortifications, advancing ever closer to the LZ. “Keep the cogheads at bay!” Gideon ordered once more as pulled out his machine gun, spraying a rain of bullets with a defiant warcry, those that could, returning fire...
Nothing greater. What a disappointment. The barrage of long-ranged fire from the recons dwindled and then halted, the remaining frontline warforms sweeping away any foolish or unlucky enough to not have made it to the shuttles. Their job was done. Their homes were safe once more, and every fist of defiance raised made the chances of it being permanently safer greater.
The shuttle doors closed shut as they made their ascent towards the skies of Zeta-5, the ground slowly shrinking as they made it past the atmosphere. Gideon laid against the walls of the craft as he slunk down, it’s been decades since he had this much action, and it sure as hell took a lot out of him. “Christ that was close..” Gideon said, Malcom’s voices cracking through the intercom as they made a connection with the Retribution. “Gideon!” He shouted. “Report! You still alive?”
“Yup, still alive.” Gideon replied. “Don’t count out the bulldog yet.”
“And the mission?”
“Partially complete, we took heavy casualties, but we did it. Cogheads were a lot tougher than I thought.”
Zeta-5
Irregulars Landing Zone.
The mass retreat had begun, the ECU protectors, no matter the training, were woefully unprepared for the onslaught the Zetans had instore for them on the surface. Thus, the order was finally given for all protectors to pull back. A vast array of Columbia-based mercenaries had volunteered to aid the ECU in their conflict with the Zetans, and it seemed that help had arrived in the nick of time.
Several large shuttle craft were placed in a circle pattern around the landing zone, a company’s worth of soldiers in light power armor were in position, setting up sandbags and portable machine guns and mortars. Among them was Gideon, former heavy weapons expert of the Gravemakers, clad in his personal armor. “Alright you maniacs!” He shouted over the intercom. “We’re to hold the LZ at all costs, and cover friendlies as they retreat, take out any cogheads while you’re at it!”
With the protectors on the run, the Zetans had pushed back, and, for the first time since the invasion had begun, re-surfaced. They knew what the ships coming down meant, and they were determined to not allow them to secure a landing. As the shuttles came down, and the mercenaries established an LZ, waves of Zetans threw themselves into the fray to dislodge the invaders.
These were some of the creme de la creme of Zetan forces. The Elysium sector had always been the best defended, and the fighting had only resulted in their production cycles becoming more optimized, and their soldiers more veterans. Few humans were among the soldiers here on the surface, and those that were in largely auxiliary roles. Of course, they were- on the surface, the Zetans could finally field-test their new equipment.
Recon warforms, equipped with long ranged rail rifles, had set themselves up in advantageous positions. With range, and without the fear of destroying their surroundings with radiation, they could lay down fusillade of accurate, gunpowderless fire, magnetic shots raking the mercenaries whenever they were foolish enough to expose themselves.
Up close, the surface also meant that the Zetans were no longer restricted to their smaller warforms. For the first time in the conflict, medium warforms had been deployed, with their thicker armour and heavier armaments. Gouts of flame curled through the air, jellied fuel creating choking smoke, whilst heavy machine guns chugged and thumped.
All in all? It was the typical hell that the fighting on Zeta-5 had descended into.
The mercenaries looked in sheer horror as the Zetan Warforms made their approach, following the fleeing protectors close behind. “Jesus Christ…” one of the mercs let slip, his arms trembling as he held his rifle closely. “Steady now ladies.” Gideon spoke, his hand raised. “On my signal, give them hell.” The protectors ran with all the might they could, knowing full well the nightmarish metallic beasts were perusing them.
Once they were within range, Gideon gave the signal. “Open fire!” The mercenaries popped from cover as they unleashed a volley of bullets and rockets against the warforms. Chipping off pieces of the medium warforms but like the machines they are, they kept advancing. “Focus on the big ones!” One of the mercs shouted, before long, his head had exploded into a bloody, Gorey mess, followed by several more as the recon warforms begun their own attack. “Shit! We got snipers!” Gideon shouted! “Get out of their line of sight!” The mercs, in a last-minute effort, scattered, looking for suitable cover from sniper fire.
It was clear that the Zetan warforms, as powerful and impressive as they were, were not invincible. Under return fire the medium warforms stumbled and collapsed, and although sparks and juddering movement showed them to be still functional, enough systems were taken out that they were no further threat. Still the beings pressed on though, and now, from the rear of the line, missiles began to streak through the skies, launched from some kind of rocket artillery battery.
It wasn't just a physical fight that the Zetans had prepared for either- they were also targeting their opponent's morale. As they drew closer, it was clear the Warforms had received their own unique decorations- kill counts, depictions of Zetan and Earth predators and insults. They lacked the true individuality of the pre-war anti-hunting warforms, but the effort that had been put in was clear.
There was more to their efforts than fancy paintjobs- some of the warforms had been retrofitted with speakers, and, as they charged forward, they let out a menagerie of sounds. From some, warcries, from others, pounding music, and from others still, deliberately high or low-pitched noises designed to unsettle and disturb the mind. It was quite the effective blend.
The mercs, now broken in formation, had scattered to wherever felt safe, random rock formations, the shuttles themselves, and some crazy bastards that stood their ground around the sandbags. Regardless of position, whoever was left kept the fight up. One mercenary still held on to his post at the machine gun nest, cackling like a maniac, undeterred by the Zetan’s attempts at psychological warfare as he unleashed a hail of lead on the advancing warforms. “I can do this all day!” He shouted out.
Gideon and two other soldiers were holed up in one of the shuttles, looking out at the few who remained. “Crazy fuckers all of you.” He said as he looked to one of them.
“You got what you paid for, pal.” One of them replied, taking potshots at the enemy, suddenly going limp as he fell victim to another sniper shot.
Sigma-Neumann, recon warform AC-3843, scratch off another one. The recon warform lacked the physical capacity to feel satisfaction in a robotic body, but... What other way to describe this warm feeling inside them was there? As they ejected the spent fission battery and exposed the already-destroyed landscape to another dose of greys, they took a moment to glance up, to where their original body hung, lifeless, in space.
It was hard to feel sympathy for the invaders, even as they became test subjects, to be exposed to chemicals, radiation, extreme weather and new weaponry. They had taken Zetan lives. Taken Zetan bodies. Taken Zeta itself, and now they were only reaping what they had sowed. It was... Karmic.
Shouldering their rifle once more, they centered their sights onto the soldier manning the machine gun, barely able to get an angle betwixt the hastily put up fortifications. There was the crack as the sound barrier broke, the hiss of the rail-rifle's cooling systems, and the silence of the nest. 'Rifle' was, of course, the wrong term for such a weapon, as they lacked any real rifling, but the coiled mechanisms that propelled the slugs suited well enough... And besides, they were far more destructive than any rifle they carried down in the depths.
The slugs didn't so much impact a target as they did crater it. When they made contact, they tended to flatten out, creating a miniature shockwave that crushed through the target shortly before the projectile itself did. If the target was fortunate enough to survive the initial shot, they might have had a good chance at survival, considering that the slugs tended to pass through the body rather than stay stuck in, but the gaping, pouring wounds were rather hard to shrug off.
Was this really it though? This small infantry incursion? After all they had faced, all they had driven back, they were being met with... Nothing greater than they had already overcome?
Gideon peeked out once more, making a quick survey of the battlefield as the mission all went to shit in quick succession, a good handful of the protectors made it aboard one of the shuttles, unfortunate that some were casualties both from Zetan snipers and some due to…friendly fire, that’s an embarrassing one.
Regardless, the objective was partially complete, all that had to be done was clear the LZ of hostile forces or die trying. “Fall back to the shuttles!” Gideon ordered. “We make our stand here, and get the hell out!” Those that remained complied with their commander’s orders, a quarter of the company’s strength returning the shuttles, leaving behind the corpses of their comrades at the mercy of Zeta-5. The retreat wasn’t a clean one, a few more fell as the Zetan Warforms crossed over the makeshift fortifications, advancing ever closer to the LZ. “Keep the cogheads at bay!” Gideon ordered once more as pulled out his machine gun, spraying a rain of bullets with a defiant warcry, those that could, returning fire...
Nothing greater. What a disappointment. The barrage of long-ranged fire from the recons dwindled and then halted, the remaining frontline warforms sweeping away any foolish or unlucky enough to not have made it to the shuttles. Their job was done. Their homes were safe once more, and every fist of defiance raised made the chances of it being permanently safer greater.
The shuttle doors closed shut as they made their ascent towards the skies of Zeta-5, the ground slowly shrinking as they made it past the atmosphere. Gideon laid against the walls of the craft as he slunk down, it’s been decades since he had this much action, and it sure as hell took a lot out of him. “Christ that was close..” Gideon said, Malcom’s voices cracking through the intercom as they made a connection with the Retribution. “Gideon!” He shouted. “Report! You still alive?”
“Yup, still alive.” Gideon replied. “Don’t count out the bulldog yet.”
“And the mission?”
“Partially complete, we took heavy casualties, but we did it. Cogheads were a lot tougher than I thought.”
In
Through the Gateways: Humanity [Closed] [Soon to be Concluded]
→
3 yrs ago
Forum: Nation Roleplay
@Damo021 You're more than welcome to. Welcome aboard! :D
Join us at the rp's dscord server if you like.
Join us at the rp's dscord server if you like.
In
Through the Gateways: Humanity [Closed] [Soon to be Concluded]
→
3 yrs ago
Forum: Nation Roleplay
Columbia
High Orbit
SS Retribution
Malcolm, Isana and the others all sat alone in the passenger compartment of an old shuttle, the four enjoying some small talk among themselves and with the pilots, exchanging some terrible jokes here and there. Occasionally the pilots would pester Malcolm and the others once or twice about their time in the Yulzan War but eventually, they had finally arrived. "Commander, we're on approach to the
Retribution." one of the pilots declared, following this, Malcolm stood up and walked over to the cockpit, followed by the others. Malcolm was first to sneak in the cockpit, taking in the view as they drew closer to the ship as it came into view. The Retribution was a heavily modified Superfreighter, they were an uncommon sight during the Colonization of Horizon, and in desperate times during the war, as makeshift carriers and warships.
The shuttle continued its approach, moments passing as they finally entered one of the Retribution's hanger bay, making its slow descent to the floor, the interior of the ship making a "thump" sensation. "Well Gentlemen." Malcolm spoke. "That's our que."
"Good luck, Commander." One of the pilots said.
"Give those cogheads a good beating." The other pilot said.
"Mhm." Malcolm nodded, backing away as he and his crew grabbed their luggage. The loading ramp lowered, the four stepping out into a wide hanger bay, buzzing with life as support staff, engineers and such were going about their duties. "Departure in 0300." The shipwide intercom announced. Malcolm took in the sight, standing on a piece of history, the damn ship being older than all of them combined.
Not too long after their arrival, the Gravemakers were greeted by a small group. Top members of the ship’s original crew. The former captain of the ship was the first to step forward, extending his hand to Malcolm. "Commander." He begun. "Name's Augustus Tanner, formerly captain of this ship, now your second in command." Maclom responded to his gesture and shook his hand. "Pleasure to meet you Tanner." Malcolm said. "You familiar with my crew?"
"It’d be hard not too, sir." Augustus replied. "The Gravemakers made quite a name for themselves during the Siege of Taurus.”
Isana chuckled a bit." Glad our reputation Precedes us."
"After all the hell we raised in the years, we better!" Binat joked, letting out a hearty chuckle.
Augustus nodded as he moved aside to let the others introduce themselves. The first among them was a imposing dark-skinned Dhulrak dressed in an green jumpsuit. "Hello Bossman.” The Dhulrak spoke in a heavy ascent. "I’m Yorba of Clan Hrak. Chief Engineer of ship." Another stepped an older woman in a medical uniform, shook hands with each one of the Gravemakers. “Dr. Tamala Hoshi at your service. First Medical Officer of the Retribution.”
“Hmm, a pleasure, doctor.” Gideon winked at the doctor with a sly grin. She simply smiled it off. Ending the brief awkward moment was the sudden introduction of another recent group of arrivals. The leaders of the various outfits hired out by their mysterious benefactors. An assorted of pirates and rough-looking mercenaries, the ones that stood out the most were a pair of disturbingly muscular Aldzir, one of them heavily augmented with cybernetics, complete with a robotic arm. “So, you must be the our commander?” One of them, Hrizz asked rhetorically in his flanging voice.
“The Zaark twins…” Gideon said in disgust, his past catching up to him, garnering funny looks from Malcon, Isana and Binat. “….I’ll explain later.” Gideon said, turning his attention back to the twins. “The hell you two doing out of prison?”
“A kind, generous, soul paid for our bail out of the goodness of his heart.” Khizz, the other twin, said in a mocking tone.
“Under the condition that we join this mission of yours.” Hrizz said. “I could give a shit of your human affairs, but money is money, and this beats prison. So we’ll suck it up, for now.”
“For now…I don’t care what grudges you have just do as you’re told, and we’ll get along just fine.” Malcolm said.
“Sir, yes, sir!” Khizz replied with his usual mocking tone, complete with an exaggerated salute, Maclom rolling his eyes. A short while later, all the mercenary and pirate leaders introduce themselves one by one, the sheer amount of which is almost impressive, a little over a dozen outfits being enlisted for this mission, although getting all them to work together as a cohesive force will be the true challenge.
After the last mercenary finished his introduction, Malcom let out a loud yawn, stretching his arms out up in the air. “Now, if it’s all the same with you, I need shuteye.” He paused as he turned his attention onto Augustus. “Captain Tanner, you have the helm for the time being.” Malcolm then scanned the whole group, nodding one more. “We’ve certainly got…interesting people here, let’s bear with each other and hopefully, we’ll get through this in one piece.” He paused as he took a small breather. “We’ll help put an end to this war. We either go home losers and dead, or go home alive and as heroes, and I sure as hell ain’t planning on going home a dead loser, dismissed."
High Orbit
SS Retribution
Malcolm, Isana and the others all sat alone in the passenger compartment of an old shuttle, the four enjoying some small talk among themselves and with the pilots, exchanging some terrible jokes here and there. Occasionally the pilots would pester Malcolm and the others once or twice about their time in the Yulzan War but eventually, they had finally arrived. "Commander, we're on approach to the
Retribution." one of the pilots declared, following this, Malcolm stood up and walked over to the cockpit, followed by the others. Malcolm was first to sneak in the cockpit, taking in the view as they drew closer to the ship as it came into view. The Retribution was a heavily modified Superfreighter, they were an uncommon sight during the Colonization of Horizon, and in desperate times during the war, as makeshift carriers and warships.
The shuttle continued its approach, moments passing as they finally entered one of the Retribution's hanger bay, making its slow descent to the floor, the interior of the ship making a "thump" sensation. "Well Gentlemen." Malcolm spoke. "That's our que."
"Good luck, Commander." One of the pilots said.
"Give those cogheads a good beating." The other pilot said.
"Mhm." Malcolm nodded, backing away as he and his crew grabbed their luggage. The loading ramp lowered, the four stepping out into a wide hanger bay, buzzing with life as support staff, engineers and such were going about their duties. "Departure in 0300." The shipwide intercom announced. Malcolm took in the sight, standing on a piece of history, the damn ship being older than all of them combined.
Not too long after their arrival, the Gravemakers were greeted by a small group. Top members of the ship’s original crew. The former captain of the ship was the first to step forward, extending his hand to Malcolm. "Commander." He begun. "Name's Augustus Tanner, formerly captain of this ship, now your second in command." Maclom responded to his gesture and shook his hand. "Pleasure to meet you Tanner." Malcolm said. "You familiar with my crew?"
"It’d be hard not too, sir." Augustus replied. "The Gravemakers made quite a name for themselves during the Siege of Taurus.”
Isana chuckled a bit." Glad our reputation Precedes us."
"After all the hell we raised in the years, we better!" Binat joked, letting out a hearty chuckle.
Augustus nodded as he moved aside to let the others introduce themselves. The first among them was a imposing dark-skinned Dhulrak dressed in an green jumpsuit. "Hello Bossman.” The Dhulrak spoke in a heavy ascent. "I’m Yorba of Clan Hrak. Chief Engineer of ship." Another stepped an older woman in a medical uniform, shook hands with each one of the Gravemakers. “Dr. Tamala Hoshi at your service. First Medical Officer of the Retribution.”
“Hmm, a pleasure, doctor.” Gideon winked at the doctor with a sly grin. She simply smiled it off. Ending the brief awkward moment was the sudden introduction of another recent group of arrivals. The leaders of the various outfits hired out by their mysterious benefactors. An assorted of pirates and rough-looking mercenaries, the ones that stood out the most were a pair of disturbingly muscular Aldzir, one of them heavily augmented with cybernetics, complete with a robotic arm. “So, you must be the our commander?” One of them, Hrizz asked rhetorically in his flanging voice.
“The Zaark twins…” Gideon said in disgust, his past catching up to him, garnering funny looks from Malcon, Isana and Binat. “….I’ll explain later.” Gideon said, turning his attention back to the twins. “The hell you two doing out of prison?”
“A kind, generous, soul paid for our bail out of the goodness of his heart.” Khizz, the other twin, said in a mocking tone.
“Under the condition that we join this mission of yours.” Hrizz said. “I could give a shit of your human affairs, but money is money, and this beats prison. So we’ll suck it up, for now.”
“For now…I don’t care what grudges you have just do as you’re told, and we’ll get along just fine.” Malcolm said.
“Sir, yes, sir!” Khizz replied with his usual mocking tone, complete with an exaggerated salute, Maclom rolling his eyes. A short while later, all the mercenary and pirate leaders introduce themselves one by one, the sheer amount of which is almost impressive, a little over a dozen outfits being enlisted for this mission, although getting all them to work together as a cohesive force will be the true challenge.
After the last mercenary finished his introduction, Malcom let out a loud yawn, stretching his arms out up in the air. “Now, if it’s all the same with you, I need shuteye.” He paused as he turned his attention onto Augustus. “Captain Tanner, you have the helm for the time being.” Malcolm then scanned the whole group, nodding one more. “We’ve certainly got…interesting people here, let’s bear with each other and hopefully, we’ll get through this in one piece.” He paused as he took a small breather. “We’ll help put an end to this war. We either go home losers and dead, or go home alive and as heroes, and I sure as hell ain’t planning on going home a dead loser, dismissed."
In
Through the Gateways: Humanity [Closed] [Soon to be Concluded]
→
3 yrs ago
Forum: Nation Roleplay
@Irredeemable
Earth,
The Meeting Place
After a rather quick sortie with all his assignments, Ambassador Ghask had found himself with more free time than he had hoped for, taking a nice stroll through the corridors of the Meeting place, escorted by two republican guardsmen as they passed by station personnel, tourists and staff of other Embassies. As he cleared his head of the many headaches that took over his waking hours, he had come to a small realization, those new arrivals would be docking soon....perhaps this would be the perfect opportunity to test his speaking skills. Although no doubt, there will be some awkwardness towards his appearance, for all Ghask knew, he could possibly be the first intelligent alien lifeform the Matuvistans have ever seen, or not, one can never know. Regardless, this was a small opening he would not let pass up and took a small detour to the docking bay to welcome the new arrivals.
@Crusader Lord
Columbian Space
Aboard the CSS Argus
All stood still once the Xandalian vessel, the XSS Tarkin, had entered the military exercise zone. At first, Admiral Wilson was pretty irked by the appearance of a unauthorized civilian vessel in restricted space but once the Tarkin revealed themselves to be aligned with the Xandalian Diplomatic Corps, his attitude had quickly changed, and once they shared the urgency of their mission, the Admiral had to be a though decision. "Order all ships and frames to stand down." The Admiral ordered. "Relay a message to Captain Xara, tell her that the mock battle will have to be postponed for now."
Earth,
The Meeting Place
After a rather quick sortie with all his assignments, Ambassador Ghask had found himself with more free time than he had hoped for, taking a nice stroll through the corridors of the Meeting place, escorted by two republican guardsmen as they passed by station personnel, tourists and staff of other Embassies. As he cleared his head of the many headaches that took over his waking hours, he had come to a small realization, those new arrivals would be docking soon....perhaps this would be the perfect opportunity to test his speaking skills. Although no doubt, there will be some awkwardness towards his appearance, for all Ghask knew, he could possibly be the first intelligent alien lifeform the Matuvistans have ever seen, or not, one can never know. Regardless, this was a small opening he would not let pass up and took a small detour to the docking bay to welcome the new arrivals.
@Crusader Lord
Columbian Space
Aboard the CSS Argus
All stood still once the Xandalian vessel, the XSS Tarkin, had entered the military exercise zone. At first, Admiral Wilson was pretty irked by the appearance of a unauthorized civilian vessel in restricted space but once the Tarkin revealed themselves to be aligned with the Xandalian Diplomatic Corps, his attitude had quickly changed, and once they shared the urgency of their mission, the Admiral had to be a though decision. "Order all ships and frames to stand down." The Admiral ordered. "Relay a message to Captain Xara, tell her that the mock battle will have to be postponed for now."
In
Through the Gateways: Humanity [Closed] [Soon to be Concluded]
→
3 yrs ago
Forum: Nation Roleplay
Just checking in on you guys, still with us?
@Creedmoor
@Kale19
@rezay
No pressure or anything, just checking in.
@Creedmoor
@Kale19
@rezay
No pressure or anything, just checking in.
In
Through the Gateways: Humanity [Closed] [Soon to be Concluded]
→
3 yrs ago
Forum: Nation Roleplay
@Irredeemable
Earth Orbit
The Meeting Place
URC Embassy
Ambassador Ghask sat in his office as his lanky fingers scrolled through some documents on a datapad, checking that everything in the Columbian portion of the station was in order and functional and inspecting daily reports from staff, a rather dull assignment that led to less than exciting days but a job's a job. He continued scrolling until the Embassy's assistant A.I., Adam, materialized right before him, appearance as a young man in a republican guard uniform. "Ambassador Ghask." Adam spoke. "Station sensors have detected a new craft incoming, a new gateway has reactivated." Ghask paused as his eyes met Adam's with a grin. "Is that so?" He asked, a good excuse to escape his weekly assignments. He thought those Aurigans would be the last new arrivals in a good while, Gateway openings having become less frequent, so another gate opening so soon was quite the pleasant surprise.
"The ECU were the first to welcome the new arrivals, shall we send our own greetings?" Adam asked. Ambassador Ghask stood as he streched out his arms, sitting in the chair all day making his joints crying out for a good stretch. "Can't let the ECU one up us, can we?" He replied to Adam. "I'll say a little something."
Adam nodded as a small red dot appeared right beside him, ready to record the message. "Greetings new arrivals!" Ghask begun. "On behalf of the United Columbian Republic, we welcome you to the Meeting Place! A station built by the hands of many worlds. All coming together in the name of diplomacy and cooperation! The world that stands before, unfortunately, is Earth, the ancestral home of mankind. While this world may be dead, we seek to one day, restore it to what it once was. A pristine world of plenty. Once again, welcome new friends, to the Meeting place!"
Earth Orbit
The Meeting Place
URC Embassy
Ambassador Ghask sat in his office as his lanky fingers scrolled through some documents on a datapad, checking that everything in the Columbian portion of the station was in order and functional and inspecting daily reports from staff, a rather dull assignment that led to less than exciting days but a job's a job. He continued scrolling until the Embassy's assistant A.I., Adam, materialized right before him, appearance as a young man in a republican guard uniform. "Ambassador Ghask." Adam spoke. "Station sensors have detected a new craft incoming, a new gateway has reactivated." Ghask paused as his eyes met Adam's with a grin. "Is that so?" He asked, a good excuse to escape his weekly assignments. He thought those Aurigans would be the last new arrivals in a good while, Gateway openings having become less frequent, so another gate opening so soon was quite the pleasant surprise.
"The ECU were the first to welcome the new arrivals, shall we send our own greetings?" Adam asked. Ambassador Ghask stood as he streched out his arms, sitting in the chair all day making his joints crying out for a good stretch. "Can't let the ECU one up us, can we?" He replied to Adam. "I'll say a little something."
Adam nodded as a small red dot appeared right beside him, ready to record the message. "Greetings new arrivals!" Ghask begun. "On behalf of the United Columbian Republic, we welcome you to the Meeting Place! A station built by the hands of many worlds. All coming together in the name of diplomacy and cooperation! The world that stands before, unfortunately, is Earth, the ancestral home of mankind. While this world may be dead, we seek to one day, restore it to what it once was. A pristine world of plenty. Once again, welcome new friends, to the Meeting place!"
In
Through the Gateways: Humanity [Closed] [Soon to be Concluded]
→
3 yrs ago
Forum: Nation Roleplay
@Sep Earth itself is pretty much dead, a grey rock. In orbit, the colonies have made a big international space station called the Meeting Place, pretty much were all the diplomacy and intrigue go about.
In
Through the Gateways: Humanity [Closed] [Soon to be Concluded]
→
3 yrs ago
Forum: Nation Roleplay
@Kale19 Well, a good starting point would be your peoples reaction to the gateway reopening and such, followed by going to wherever you wish really, could be Earth, could be one of the colonies, etc.
In
Through the Gateways: Humanity [Closed] [Soon to be Concluded]
→
3 yrs ago
Forum: Nation Roleplay
Columbia
City of New Landing
Neon Tipsy Bar, Upper levels
Malcolm Talis, a tired and worn-out man in his early sixties laid against the wall of a moving elevator as it made its ascent to the classiest and most expensive bar you could find in this city. The occasion? Malcolm had just returned from a rather somber get-together, a real close friend, practically a younger brother, had recently passed away from complications. Attending his funeral with his family, friends and surviving members of their platoon, and after that depressing reminder of all their mortality, he needed one hell of a drink. So, Malcolm and the rest of the crew had decided to throw a little drinking party in his honor.
The aged Malcolm maintained his balance as he heard the "bing" sound from elevator. The doors sliding open to reveal bright neon lights, they really wanted to put an emphasis on the bar's namesake that's for sure. Malcolm scanned his surroundings, taking in the atmosphere, jazz-like music was booming in the air, followed by soothing scents of various strong drinks.
The bar was half-full, its patrons were a varied sort, ranging from "fellow" navy officers, though by the looks of them, they were a bunch of upper-class suits, city boys wanting to play soldier, to suits of the business variety, both shady and legitimate sat in another corner, all drinking to their hearts content. All the while, in the left corner stood a little stage of sorts, two young, quite attractive women were singing in soothing tones.
Malcolm continued scanning the room until he took notice of a Urkani man hand waving to him, turning to that direction to see a trio waiting for him, the aforementioned Urkani, and two humans, a woman and a slightly younger man. Malcolm walked over and sat down as he grabbed a glass; he was fashionably late enough to have his drink ready. "Glad you could make it, Geo." the aged woman, Isana Talis, his wife called him by his old callsign, bumping her shoulder against his.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world." Malcolm replied as he bumped back. "Love you too, darling."
"With that." Binat, the Urkani spoke, raising a glass. "A toast to Sanders."
"May he find peace forevermore." Gideon, the other human spoke.
"To the Gravemakers." Both Isana and Malcolm said, the four of them clashing their glasses together and begun gulping down their drinks. An hour had passed, the four, having been separated for a number of years had much catching up to do. "So, how's the family doing?" Binat asked the couple.
Malcolm and Isana looked to one another before turning their attention to their old friend. "Doing well." Malcolm replied. "Called Jade an hour ago, we were going to have a personal holiday together..." Malcolm paused, once more looking to his wife. "...but me and Isana agreed now wasn't the best time...the grandkids were mighty disappointed."
"Yeah..not in a festive mood either." Gideon said, gulping down another glass. Some more time passes as the Gravemakers took it all at a slowed pace, a large hologram screen brightened up as the daily news reports came in, a rather imposing Dhulrak Anchor appearing. "The Zetan War has reached a standstill as coalition forces-"
"Just like out of the old history books." Malcolm said, chugging down another drink. "As soon as we found each other, someone was bound to stir up some shit."
"I have to admit." Binat said. "Those Zetans...they creep the hell out of me."
"I wonder if the whole abduction story is true?" Isana wondered, twirling her glass. "Gives me the chills thinking about it."
"Personally? I don't care much to dig any deeper." Gideon interjected. "All I know is that I don't trust those cogheads."
While the Gravemakers were busy chatting some more, they had failed to notice a young stranger approaching from behind, having just arrived from the elevator. "Captain Talis?" the stranger spoke.
The four turned to see a human man in his mid thirties, wearing a fine suit. He extended his hand outward to the captain. "The name's Leon Severis." He declared. "Could you and your associates come with me for but a moment?" Leon requested of the group. "It won't take long."
Some time had passed, the group driving around the city in a rather spacious hover limo. The Gravemakers sat rather comfortably on one end of the hovercar. Facing them on the other end was this Mister Severis. "So, why'd you drag us out here?" Malcolm asked, honestly intrigued by this point.
"I suppose it would be fair, you've waited long enough." Severis said as he cleared his throat. "Are you familiar with the recent conflict occurring the Zeta system?" Leon asked rhetorically.
Malcolm had quickly shifted from intrigued, to confused. "...yes... Why'd you bring that up?"
"I'll get to the point, I've come on behalf of certain parties." Leon said, keeping his ties and allegiance vague, for now. “Parties who have a vested interest in participating in this rather historical conflict, and to see the culling the threat the Zetans pose."
"And that threat would be?" Malcom asked, not convinced.
"The threat of changing what it means to be human." Severis said, his eyes drifting to binat. "Or xeno for that matter." He paused for a moment, continuing. “Out of all the colonies discovered, the Zetans are by far, the most technologically advanced and how they used that technology scares the hell out of people.”
Fear of the unknown. The most deep-rooted, basic, and primal of human emotions, both a boon and a bane to all of mankind, and no doubt the catalyst of many wars and atrocities throughout all of creation. It is a fear that is well understood by the gravemakers and many others. Doesn't help that propaganda films the ECU shipped throughout the galaxy for months have fueled that unease and distrust. Malcom remained silent, having no means to rebuke, leon continued. "The Coalition may have won the battle but the war is far from over. The Zetans may have other plans up their sleeves."
"...And what does this have to do with me exactly?" Malcolm asked.
Leon smiled, possible progress was made. "You were considered a quite the maverick among your peers in the marines, men and women serving under you have commented on your unorthodox, but efficient command. Such an seasoned and flexible officer would be a...valuable asset to our cause"
"So...you want to hire us?" Malcolm asked, a little offend. "Son, I think you're terribly mistaken. We're no hired guns, and sure as hell don't plan on being such."
"Such a crude term." Leon replied. "I like to think of it as...one time contractors."
"Regardless. Why not look for real mercenaries?"
"My benefactors demand a more...creditable face for our little operation. Decorated war heroes such as yourselves would do just that, and they assure you, you will be compensated VERY handsomely."
Malcom looked to his crew as they silently deliberate on their next course of action. In truth, yes, Malcom never really trusted the zetans, many citizens within the URC thought the chancellor's actions were naïve and possibly foolish, opening the doors to Columbia to a potential threat, fearing a repeat of the Yulzan War.
Isana gripped onto Malcom's hand. "What do you say, hun?" She asked. "One last hoorah for the gravemakers?"
Malcom thought deeply further...and he and the rest aren't getting any younger, one last mission, for sanders. Malcom matched his eyes to Leon as he gave a confirming nod.
Leon smirked, mission accomplished. "Thank you." Leon said. "An Officer of your talent and skill will be of great use for the Volunteer task force to come."
"And what role will we play in all this?"
"Well, for you, captain, you'll be the Operational Commander." Leon replied. "You'll be giving a ship, crew and additional volunteers to assist you in your mission. You will be doing all of mankind and xenokind a great service in this endeavor."
© 2007-2024