TheSovereignGrave

Stardust: A Freeform Sci-Fi Fantasy NRP

All right, this is still a major WIP but it's something. And you know, I realize that this species would probably do exceptionally well as a communist state, but I chose not to make them like that at all.

The Terminus

The Terminus

Species

For the most part the state referred to as the Terminus consists of only a single species known by a variety of names, though the most common designation are the Simulacrum. None of the names are anything approaching an endonym, and the reason for this is quite simple: the Simulacrum are completely mute. And the name given to them is almost perfect description of them, as almost every single member of their species is completely identical to the next. The Simulacrum are clones. Every Simulacrum is a rather thin 10'4" humanoid with pinkish-grey skin with disproportionately long and gangly limbs. Each hand ends in seven digits, with three finger flanked by a pair of thumbs on either side of the hand, while their feet have four toes. The most striking aspect of their appearance, however, are their faces, which could best be described as a human face if one removed most identifying features. Their pitch black eyes are sunken and their 'cheeks' are exceedingly gaunt, and they lack even vestigial eyes, noses, or mouths.

The reason behind their bizarre appearance can be attributed entirely to their planet of origin. The Simulacrum homeworld is absolutely bizarre in that it is entirely uninhabitable to almost any other species, as it lacks any form of atmosphere. Because of the lack of air, senses such as hearing and smell are useless and so do not exist on any lifeforms native to it, including the Simulacrum, and vocal communication is likewise impossible. And this leads to perhaps the most interesting facet of the Simulacrum: their telepathy. All Simulacrum have a mental 'link' with one another, allowing them to 'speak' with one another, share thoughts and emotions, and detect the presence of others. However it is possible for one to train themselves to suppress the link though it is only with great difficulty, and to delve into anything other than the surface thoughts takes great effort and can usually be blocked by the one being 'probed'. The Simulacrum are also capable of using this link to telepathically contact other species, but it is never as clear or easy than with another of their own species and is only a mere shadow of the link the Simulacrum share with themselves.
Description of Government
WIP
Description of Military
WIP
Technological Overview
WIP
Cultural Overview
WIP
With a nation of identical individuals all mentally linked together, one might expect their society to by highly collectivist and with an emphasis upon the needs of the many over the few. But nothing could be further from the truth, and the Simulacrum are almost all highly individualist. The freedom and liberty of the individual is held sacrosanct, though not to any insane degree. As a general rule of thumb, one is able to do as they will so long as it does not infringe upon the ability of others to do the same. It is generally believed that this outlook arose not in spite of their status as clones, but rather because of it. The first of their kind experienced firsthand the horrors that could be done 'for the good of the many', trapped in labs beneath the earth as the world died and experimented upon for the future betterment of their species. And today, when they are all genetically identical to one another they are still different people with different hopes and dreams and thoughts. The emphasis upon individuality being compensation for the fact that they are all physically identical; though a great many Simulacrum do adopt practices such as tattooing and body piercing.
History
WIP
Other
WIP

EDIT: And in case anyone's curious, the name of the nation comes from it's location. It's not what the Simulacrum themselves refer to it as.

Stardust: A Freeform Sci-Fi Fantasy NRP

Well, I'll show my interest in this. I'm gonna work on a basic sheet at the moment.

The Broken World: Nations of Azoth

Hey @Flagg, I'm curious. What exactly is the status of Archeos in the Drathan Union? It doesn't have the same naming scheme as the other cities, and it doesn't look like it has a Magister either.

The Broken World: Nations of Azoth

All righty then, finally got a post up. Sorry for it taking so long. :D

The Broken World: Nations of Azoth

Some would find the interior of the Singing Hive uncomfortably claustrophobic, between the narrow walls and oftentimes low ceilings, but it was something Chyn'Ik'Zakeer had always found comforting and reassuring. The floors and walls were worn from the passage of innumerable numbers of her brethren over the many millennia, but down in the depths of the Hive it was still fairly well maintained. But Zakeer had little time for thinking, as she had somewhere to be. She moved quickly through the narrow tunnels, paying close attention to the luminescent fungus along the walls, glowing a dim white in the darkness of the Hive. Normally Zakeer could navigate by memory, but she had never been in this section of the hive before. One didn't come here unless one was invited, and it was quite clear. She saw her fellow warriors standing guard at regular intervals in the twisting tunnels, she paid little attention to them and they paid little attention to her. But eventually Zakeer arrived at her destination, a door set in the side of the wall and flanked by two guards who looked at her as she stopped in front of it.

"Chyn'Ik'Zakeer?" One asked.

"That's me," she replied, and other guard opened the door and informed the sole occupant of Zakeer's arrival.

Zakeer strode in with a polite nod of the head at the pair of guards, and then stopped in the middle of room to quickly take stock. It was fancy, there was no doubt about that. There was a short table at one end, several intricate rugs on the floor as well as tapestries hanging from the walls, as well as several large indentations along the walls containing a wide variety of objects such as scrolls and glowing fungus, but the most telling things were the beaded curtains leading to other rooms. The other individual was sitting on a cushion in front of the table, staring at Zakeer. She was another Nyr'kiin, though with her black and white shell, thin waist, and stinger she looked very much like a large wasp when compared to Zakeer's thicker, grey body. But she also wore the blue markings of the warrior caste, but her marking were far more extensive and intricate than Zakeer's own.

"Chyn'Ter'Vakin," Zakeer said, with an overly dramatic bow; the two Nyr'kiin stared at one another for a moment, before the room was filled with their buzzing laughter.

"It's been too long sister," Vakin said, standing up and making her way to Zakeer.

"Well it's not like I can just stride in and visit you whenever I please," Zakeer said before the two of them gave each other a long hug. Then, once they broke apart, "After all, you're Chyn'Ter'Vakin now. Must be busy being a Grand Councillor."

"Zakeer, believe me when I tell you that you have no idea," Vakin replied, "Sometimes I envy you; politics is a whole other type of fighting altogether."

"Hey, if you weren't good enough at it you wouldn't be Grand Councillor," Zakeer said, then made a show of looking around the room, "But are you honestly telling me the perks aren't worth it? You get a room to yourself! With a door!"

Vakin laughed at that, "We both know the perks aren't important. But yes, they are quite nice."

Then Vakin made her way over to her table, pulling a pair of cushions out from underneath it. "Here, have a seat. I know it wasn't a short walk over here," she said, tossing one of the cushions to her sister.

Zakeer caught it easily, and then dropped it on the ground near to the wall; Vakin made her way over and dropped the cushion down next to her. "Yeah, it was a pretty long walk. But you know as well as I do that it's nothing compared to being on patrol," Zakeer said.

"These days you spend most of the patrol on the back of lizard," Vakin teased.

"Hey, I didn't always," Zakeer retorted, "And you don't even go out on patrol anymore."

"True, true," Vakin said with a laugh, then sighed, "You know, I am sorry it took so long to invite you for a visit."

Zakeer just waved it off, "Oh, it's no big deal. You're a Grand Councillor now, you're busy. And I have to go out to make sure the filth doesn't get too close to home. We're both busy."

"You have no idea," Vakin said, shaking her head.

"Is there something the matter?" Zakeer said, her demeanour now completely serious, "What's wrong."

"Oh, it's nothing."

"Vakin, I have known you since we were nymphs. I can tell when something's wrong, so do not lie to me."

"There's a storm on the horizon, and sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who doesn't want charge headlong into it."

"A storm? What?"

Vakin sighed again and shook her head, "With the Dratha around us, we've always been expecting a war to come at some point. But now it's getting close."

Zakeer cocked her head at this, "I don't understand, what's the problem? That sounds great; the filthy monsters need to learn to fear us again."

"Zakeer, listen to me, things are not as black and white as that," Vakin said, "You know the Salished?"

"Of course. Bloody powerhouse over in the Rainlands, no friends of the Dratha either," Zakeer said, "Of course, they're no friends of us either. But what's the problem?"

"The Empire hasn't been stable in a long time, and it seems like every day more people want to capitalize on that," Vakin explained, "And before you ask, yes. They want to go to war."

"What in the name of the Great Mother is wrong with them?" Zakeer nearly shouted. Then continued, more quietly, "I am no fan of them either, but they're not the real threat here. Those worthless wizards in their bloody cesspools are the real problem!"

"I know Zakeer, I know," Vakin said, "War is coming, and I can't stop it. But enough of the Grand Council aren't willing to throw Nyr'kiin lives away on a war with the Salished, so I've been able to convince them to wait."

"If they're really so set on war, they aren't going to wait forever you know."

"Believe me, I know. But if there are those among us looking to take advantage of the Salished, can you imagine what the Dratha must be thinking?"

Zakeer was silent for a moment as she thought, then she laughed as realization dawned on her, "Those wretches are like giant vultures, uglier of course but you know what I mean. There is no way they'll pass this up."

"If war is coming to the Singing Hive, then the Singing Hive will go to war when the time is right for us," Vakin said, "I can only hope the Dratha get a move on soon."

"Oh, so do I. I'd love nothing more than to put the in their place," then Zakeer noticed Vakin shaking her head, "What?"

"I'd still rather not go to war at all, to be honest. War is absolute hell," Vakin told her sister, "Think of how many will die. Even if we get the jump on them."

"And they'll die proud, having given their lives for their Hive and their people. I don't understand the problem here," Zakeer said, the honest confusion evident in her voice.

"You know what Zakeer, how about we forget this," Vakin said, "Believe it or nor, I didn't call you over to unload this on you."

"Well I don't believe it," Zakeer said, the joking tone evident in her voice.

"Oh hush. I just wanted to see my sister again, chat about old times, catch up," Vakin said, then stood up and made her way to one of the indentations in the wall, "Maybe get unfortunately drunk."

"Hah, just like old times. Well, I'm not doing anything important tomorrow, so that sounds great," Zakeer said, "So what've you got?"

"Well, you know those perks you mentioned earlier? Here's another one," Vakin said turning around to reveal a rather large bottle of reddish liquid.

"What is that?" Zakeer asked.

"It's wine. I'll spare you the details, but it is very good wine from a very long way off," Vakin said proudly.

"Sounds good. Just one question. What's wine?"

Vakin laughed at that, "Alcohol made from grapes."

"Grapes?"

"Oh, for the Great Mother's sake just shut up and let's drink."

The Broken World: Nations of Azoth

Bleh, I'm still here. Had a bout of writer's block and then felt like absolute crap for several days. But I'm still here.

The Broken World: Nations of Azoth

I should get another post up within the next few days, once I iron out what all it's going to entail.

[IC/OOC] God and Country - A low-fantasy renaissance NRP of religion and discovery

Nah, I wouldn't mind. And sorry for the inactivity, some stuff has kinda come up lately and I've been rather busy.

The Broken World: Nations of Azoth

A stiff breeze blew across the Ashlands, plucking ash from the earth and sending it to drift through the remains of a caravan as well as the large group assembled beside it. It wouldn't take an intelligent man to realize what had happened; there were the corpses of men and mutants all around with their blood seeping from numerous wounds, while the group was obviously divided. On one hand there was a number of men and women of numerous races chained together, bruised and dirty, and alongside them were men whose garb matched the garb of the corpses and most of which were nursing fresh wounds. The other group was composed entirely of Nyr'kiin, many of them mounted on great lizards but even more of them on foot. And every single one of them had several weapons sheathed somewhere on their bodies, most of them wielding maces or bows but more than a few with several primitive firearms each. The Nyr'kiin had obviously attacked the caravan, and were now dealing with the survivors.

The leader of the Nyr'kiin was at the front of their group, mounted on one of the great lizards and with a pale blue markings painted on her face and body. Her name was Chyn'Ik'Zakeer, and like all of the Nyr'kiin present she had been a member of the warrior caste for her entire life. And at present she was looking down on who she assumed was the leader of the caravan she'd just raided; or perhaps they'd killed the leader and he was just the second-in-command. She didn't know for certain and she could not care less; the result would be the same either way. The man was dirty, just as dirty as the rest of his men, and he had a open wound above his eye causing his greasy hair to be glued to his forehead with blood.

For the longest time Zakeer simply stared at the man, waiting for him to speak. Her face betrayed no emotion aside from the occasional twitch of her antennae, at least to their captives; her subtle body language and pheromones made her irritation and impatience with the man evident to her fellow Nyr'kiin. But finally, her impatience made her the first to speak as the man did nothing but glare.

"Well? What do you have to say for yourself?" Zakeer asked, not enjoying the way the words flowed from her mouth. Her jaws were made for speaking the tongue of the Nyr'kiin, and the word of the apes felt wrong in her jaws; sounded wrong as well because of the hint of hissing and clicking underneath her speech. Of course, she didn't realize how off it sounded.

But at those words, the man's glare turned into a snarl of rage. "You monsters attack us without any provocation, butcher my men, and then ask what I have to say for myself?" he said, not even trying to hide the fury in his voice.

Zakeer felt nothing but annoyance at the man's overt display of emotion, "Of course."

The answer shocked the man into a moment of silence, before he began to sputter angrily. He hadn't been expecting an answer so blunt and without any hint of explanation and he momentary had no idea what to say to the monster before him. But finally he managed to yell "Why the hell did you attack us?"

Zakeer cocked her head, the first sign of emotion recognizable to the man that he'd seen, and answered by gesturing to the group of battered and bruised captives chained together. "They are slaves are they not?" she asked.

"So?"

"Yes or no."

"Well, yes they're slaves but why the hell does that matter?"

"Where did you get them?"

For a moment the man was confused by the question, and why exactly it mattered. But then it dawned on him, and he couldn't help but think to himself how much of an idiot he'd been. Everyone knew that the Nyr'kiin hated the Dratha, and there likely wasn't anyone else he could've acquired the slaves from. He could've believe he'd accidentally wandered close to enough to the hive to be caught. "Why the hell does that matter?" he answered defensively, in the vain hope that not admitting to dealing with the Dratha would perhaps lead to some small measure of mercy.

But Zakeer was growing even more tired of the man, and chose this moment to jump down from her mount and stride right up to the man. They stared at each other for a moment, the man forced to crane his head upwards to look into the Nyr'kiin's eyes and then the man opened his mouth to speak. But he didn't get a single word out before Zakeer's fist slammed into the side of his face.

The force of the blow had knocked the already weakened man over, and as he stood back up on shaky feet he spit a shattered tooth onto the dusty ground. He glanced over at his men, but none of them made any move to help him as they were paralyzed by fear. But the man stood defiantly again, spitting blood onto Zakeer's face. She simply stood stock still for a long moment, the blood beginning to run down the leathery shell on her face. She was infuriated by the man, of course, but there was no way he could know that. That is until her hand shot out again, but this time grabbing the man by his throat.

The man tried to get out of her grasp, but when he brought his hands up in a vain attempt to pry her hand off his neck, she grabbed them both by the wrist with her lower arms. And she simply stood like that, watching as his face turned red and his eyes began to bulge out. But she was cut off by a shout from one of her men.

"Chyn'Ik'Zakeer, we have three!" came the voice, speaking in the tongue of her own people.

She quickly threw the man down, leaving him coughing and heaving in dust as she made her way quickly towards the voice. It had come from near the slaves, who were all huddled in a terrified mass. But they parted for her, and those few who didn't were shoved roughly aside until she came to the one who's called her.

She was a fellow warrior, with the blue paint and weapons of their caste, but she was kneeling beside three other Nyr'kiin. They, however, were stark naked and without markings in addition to being chained together. Zakeer knelt down beside them, looking to the warrior and telling her to grab some food from their packs. She attempted to greet them by gently brushing her antennae against theirs, but they recoiled from the touch.

"No, no, it is okay," she said hoping they understood the language of the men at the very least, "You are safe now."

"Never safe," one of them said, "Never."

"No, you are safe now. I swear; just come with us," she said, but was interrupted by another.

"We can't; they'll find us," he said, blabbering, "They always find us. Hurt us."

"Your brothers and sisters won't let anyone hurt you again," Zakeer said, trying to calm them.

The Nyr'kiin seemed confused by this, looking among each other. But then the warrior arrived once again, handing a small leather pack to Zakeer. She pulled a piece of white fungus from it, holding it in her hand and offering it to the slaves. They were hesitant at first, but the one who had yet to speak eventually took it and stared at it.

"Eat," Zakeer simply said, pulling another piece of fungus out. The slave quickly consumed it all, and soon the three were gorging themselves on the fungus. And when one of the other slaves, a human, attempted to move closer the warrior had to do nothing but draw her sword and stare. The other slaves quickly took the hint, and didn't even attempt to disturb the Nyr'kiin.

"What do you mean brothers and sisters?" one of them asked in between bites, "They were all taken away..."

"No," Zakeer replied forcefully, "We are all the children of the Queens, we are all brothers and sisters. And we protect our family."

"The Queen?" another asked, confusion evident in their voice.

"Yes, the Queens," Zakker replied, "I am no priest, but come with us and I will tell you all I can on the way to the Hive?"

"What's the Hive?"

"Home."

It was a long moment before any of the Nyr'kiin replied but eventually one stood up, iron shackles clanging together as they did so. And it wasn't long before the others stood up as well, but then one looked around at the other slaves. The one who weren't Nyr'kiin, "What about the others?"

"They can do what they want," Zakeer said, "It does not matter."

"Can't they come with us?"

"If they want to," Zakeer replied, but as a murmur went through the throng of slaves she made a quick amendment, "But they have to keep up on their own."

Though the three were unsure about their saviour's callousness they followed her nonetheless; after all the things she spoke of intrigued them and it was the first time freedom had ever been dangled in front of them. Zakeer quickly made her way back to the slaver's leader, who was still lying on the ground. Then she turned to the three Nyr'kiin slaves, her face blank despite her feeling a malevolent joy.

"Go ahead," she said, gesturing to him.

They were confused, and did nothing before Zakeer explained. "Surely you want some revenge?" she said, "Go ahead, do whatever you want."

At that the man looked up at Zakeer, and then to the three slaves. "Boys, boys, there's no need for this now. We can talk this out, right?" he said, his tone almost pleading as the three moved in around him. Then Zakeer drew one of her knives and handed it to one of the slaves.

"Have fun," she said, patting him on the shoulder as she turned to mount the great lizard once again. As the man screamed, she focused her attention elsewhere; whether or not they'd be able to carry all the supplied from the caravan, whether the corpses would spoil before they arrived back at the Singing Hive, and whether it'd be easier to kill the slavers now or let them walk to the Hive on their own legs. Then the screams stopped, and she looked over at the three slaves only to see them covered in crimson blood and looking over at her.

"Enjoy yourselves?" she asked.

The answer wasn't immediate but soon one of them replied, "It felt good."

"That is what I wanted to hear," Zakeer said happily, hoping at least one of them decided to join the warrior caste. Their kill was rather sloppy, and she'd love to teach one of them the true art of killing. But for now, she was certain they'd fit in back home at the Singing Hive.

Upon Our Changing Times

I'll try to get one when I can. I gotta think about it some more, and we just got a kitten so that's been keeping us occupied.