New post in which I rip off 40k and rtron mercilessly tells everyone about it in the summary.
In my defense, I wrote a majority of my part between 1 and 4 am
In my defense, I wrote a majority of my part between 1 and 4 am
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--Lazarus--
11 Might
1200 Worshippers
Vestec
25 Might
3 Freepoints
All the worshippers
--Lazarus--
11 Might
1200 Worshippers
Vestec
25 Might
3 Freepoints
All the worshippers
A collection of six members of the Citadel of Dundee sat in tanks, carved by the Empress herself, Lazarus. Each one was being pumped with divine energy, carefully. She had to make sure they could handle it. Their power would suffer if they could not. Lazarus had staked out each canidate personally, albeit keeping herself hidden.
From the Craftsmiths, Elspeth, the doctor. From the warriors, Albe the Gryphon-Rider. From the miners, Andrew, the foreman. Further, from the Psykers, the saint Baern. From the lowest natural caste, the peasants, came the humble Douglas. Finally, one to lead them, the one who would be the supreme commander of each of the Council, the Gryphon-Rider who had dabbled in the arts of the Arksynth, Cinead.
These were the six of the soon-to-be Council. She was expending all her power into each and every one. A strong empire needed strong leaders, and these leaders had to be nothing short of demigods. This was her final goal, but she didn't have the power herself to see it through. Always a burden. Even with the blood from the craftsgod, she still didn't have enough power to see her plans fully to fruiton. They'd simply be too weak. Too weak!
She had to solve this. In her chambers, she slowly kneeled. She whispered to Vestec, she whispered for help. He was always willing to help her, and the cost was oft-managable. She just had to watch out for any tricks.
Vestec appeared in a flash of colorful light, bowing before Lazarus. "Lazzy dear! It's been too long. How have you been? Aside from letting Jvan's little run away avatar ruin our dwarves. For shame Lazzy dear, for shame." He looked around, colors flashing faster as he noticed the tanks. "Ooooh, what is this? Some new experiments?" He giggled, floating close to the tanks. "Oh my, Lazzy dear if you pump this much power into them they might pop like balloons. I assume that you properly prepared them? Also, don't send them against anyone like dear Lify. He'll tear them apart in seconds."
"They have been properly prepared. I staked out those with divine potential, much like me in my mortal days, and then I spent months at a time on each. Each is at peak condition, and I've accustomed their bodies to the power I put into them. The problem is, the process is not complete. I'm out of strength," she sighed, standing up and inspecting each of the tanks in turn, "they're almost done. They just need one last burst of divine power, then we can take them out. I was hoping you could provide."
"Oh? And just what are your plans for these 'divine potentialiers?' And how much power are you looking for? I can't just wildly throw this divine power around you know. Someone would get hurt or killed! Not that it would bother me, but you would find it very off putting to be murdered by a burst of chaos energy." Vestec flipped around, still floating, and looked at Lazarus.
She walked over to Cinead's tank, brushing her hand against it. "They will lead the Empire my people are so intent on building. They will lead in my absence. They will be the finest specimens I have ever created. They will have an undomitable will and each will be the strongest across their respective spheres. This is what I'm building," she paused, turning to look at Vestec, giving him a while to ponder on what she said, before continuing, "As much power as you can put into them. Their bodies are prepared, and they can only grow stronger. The more energy you put into them, the finer their bodies will be and the closer to demigods they will be."
"So you want to give your people six lesser versions of Lifprasil? So they can do what Lifprasil plans to do, only ideally faster and with less constant gifts from the rest of the Gods. Is that about right Lazzy?"
He tilted his head briefly before giggling again. "Sounds like a brilliant idea to me! I'm in."
She smiled, as best she could with a beak. "Great. Channel your power through me. I'll distribute it to each of them. Of course, Cinead will get more -- my highest commander should be the best, after all -- but the rest will get some as well. Then, we may take them out. Their memories of before will be patchy, showing up as nightmares and dreams at best. We can fill them in once they're ready to be taken out." with that, she took a position in the center of the tanks, bracing herself.
"This is going to hurt Lazzy. I hope you're ready." Vestec placed a hand on Lazarus' head, grasping it tightly. Power flowed from him into her, and from her into the six of the tanks around them. It sparkled and shone different colors, and a variety of sounds swarmed around the room as he helped Lazarus realize her goals.
She spasmed as the power went through her, but she did not falter. Lazarus remained standing as she channeled the massive amount of energy into each of the tanks. The bodies of each of the soon-to-be legates filled with power, their eyes glowing. Lazarus screamed out in pain. When the final bit of power was distributed, she collapsed, laying on the ground panting. She sat there for several minutes before getting up, and she got up slowly.
"That's it. Their bodies will do the rest," she said, still shaking from the pain of channeling so much foreign energy at once, "now we just need to take them out and wake them up."
"That we do Lazzy. That we do. But, I'm afraid, not quite in the way you want." Vestec giggled.
In an instant, Vestec had seperated four of the six tanks, their inhabitants still asleep inside, from their holdings and they floated around him, held aloft by Chaos energy. "Trust me Lazzy, this will work out for you in the end, but right now I can't let you have all this power at once. We've got to share it around, you know? Make a little balance amongst the world. Don't worry, these two," he gestured to Albe and Elspeth, still in their tanks and where Lazarus had put them, "will serve you well. The rest will help the rest of the world along, until you can find them. Call on me again!" In a multicolored flash he and the four tanks were gone.
She opened her beak to say something, but closed it again. She could not challenge the will of a god, not yet. All she could do was simmer. "Very well," she inched out, balling her fists up. "Take them, then. And get out of my sight," came the goodbye, and while she was clearly angered, she did not express it beyond her words.
The entire Citadel had been gathered, the first time the Empress would be seen in public since prehistoric ages. The entire citadel was abuzz with activity, as mighty legions of gryphon riders, each one 5,000 strong and supported by a myriad of infantry, stood at attention in the grand hall at the entrance of the Citadel.
The amount of people was truly staggering. It was so many that clouds began to form at the top of the grand hall. When the Empress herself, Lazarus, came out, she did it flanked by two people of superdwarven proportion. Lazarus was dressed in the gold offerings provided to her by her people, forged into a fine set of runic armor.
Albe was dressed in a similar fashion, his armor silver instead. Finally was Elspeth, dressed much less impressively. The bat was smaller than the Empress or Albe, but nevertheless she too was larger than the average person. Each soldier slammed the bottom of their spears into the ground to announce the arrival of the Empress and her favored son and daughter. Then they did it again, until they had built up a rhythm of cacophonous noise.
Lazarus put one golden gauntlet up. Everything went silent, the sound of spears now stopped echoing throughout the hall audibly. She waited until even the echoes had ended, until only whispers from civilians filled the air. Then, she began.
“In the founding of the Era of the Worm, we suffered the greatest of losses. Our blood was spilled and reformed into something alien. Something unfamiliar. And yet, we adapted. We endured. In the end, we came out the winner. Now, we suffer from overpopulation and disease. So, then, what is our destiny but to adapt and endure until we are fated to victory?” She paused, before continuing.
“Today we take the next step in our steps towards an ultimate victory. With these words, I, Lazarus, Empress of the Citadel of Dundee, declare the Adamantium Crusade.” She stopped, cheers filling the grand hall.
Then, Albe stepped up. “I, Lord-General of Citadel Dundee, declare that for the outposts and troops bloodied and besieged by Rovaick and other manners of creatures, we bring reinforcement. For the men destroyed by the myriad of threats upon Galbar, we offer rebirth. For the enemies of my mother’s empire, we bring death. So heed my words, Galbar belongs to Dwarvenkind,” he announced his voice booming across the grand hall powerfully, overpowering the cheers of the rest of the grand hall.
One Week Later
Outpost Sarna, farthest southern outpost of Inquisition territory
Sollix and Aszea stood on the walls, watching for a returning patrol. The gates were locked shut and the outpost was on high alert. There were no lights on, for the Rovaick did not need it to see underground, everyone wore armor and carried their weapons, and the ballistas were loaded and ready. The dwarves, foul Jvanic monstrosities, had gotten more active, more aggressive. While they were of course, no match for the might of the Inquisition, only fools let themselves underestimate their enemies. The two trolls had been watching in silence for a few hours now.
"What do you think the odds are that they'll launch an attack." Aszea rolled her eyes. Sollix asked the same question every day, without fail, halfway through their watch. It was as if he didn't have anything else to do but worry about the dwarves. "Slim to none. They're not like the Vestecan Tribes, backed by demons and bloodthirstiness. They're Jvanic monstrosities, cowering in the dark. They’ll make some noise for a little bit, and after we bloody their noses a few more times they’ll retreat to their mountain fortress again.”
“If you say so.” Sollix replied, doubtfully. “Still, this is the most we’ve seen them push on us ever before. It might take more than a nose bloodying.”
“You’ll see. We’ll drive the-” Aszea’s words were cut off as a loud crashing started echoing through the cavern. In the far distance, lights from thousands of torches shone. A solitary figure was running unnaturally fast towards them, in battered armor with no weapons.
“A templar. Sollix, alert the outpost. I’ll let him in.” Sollix nodded, racing off in an instant as she made her way quickly down and opened the gate just enough to let him. Already there were shouts of alarm and running boots as the outpost prepared itself for battle. The templar stumbled in, another troll, bleeding heavily. He leaned against the wall, gasping for breath, and she slammed the gate shut. “Where’s the commander.” He demanded, unsteadily picking himself up. “In the main hall, writing reports to the Prophet.”
The templar started moving immediately, moving with purpose and urgency. “What’s out there?” Aszea called at his retreating back. He didn’t even stop, yelling over his shoulder, “A dwarven army!” Aszea’s hand went to the necklace of Toun she carried, tightly clenching it. “Perfect One protect us.”
A few minutes later, a goblin was racing out of the outpost on the fastest spider available,carrying dispatches to warn the Inquisition. Within 30 minutes, the outpost was ready. Ballista crews ready, archers on the walls, ordinaries behind the gates, and the two templar squads (five rovaick each) ready to respond where they were needed most.
The army eventually stopped just out of range, the cavern growing eerily silent as the sound of marching men faded away. A single figure, obscured by the darkness, began to walk up to the fort. The figure was large; the size of a troll alone. They stopped about halfway between the army and the fort, pulling a stick of some sort from their pack.
Elspeth lit the torch. It illuminated them, their batlike visage flickering softly in the shadows of the flame. With powerful lungs, eerily loud for a lone person, she yelled to the fort, “Surrender now and you will not be harmed! This land is now Dwarven!”
The only response from the outpost was a ballista bolt being fired directly at Elspeth. She reacted quickly, flashing her hand out at impossible speeds. Grabbing hold of the bolt midair, she held it even, stopping it just short of her face. Then, a snap. With a single hand, she broke the bolt in half. A roar filled the cavern as the army behind her charged.
The gryphon riders took to the air, as the infantry flooded through by ground. The infantry in particular was lead by the strongest warriors, the troll-sized yetis stomping forward, protected by massive cast-bronze kite shields and armored plating covering vital areas.
Arrows hissed through the air, arcing down to land behind the charging yetis. Ballistas cracked as they fired, aimed directly at the massive creatures charging the gates, being reloaded and fired again with near flawless speed. The second wave of arrows never came, waiting until the gryphon riders were swooping close before firing at them. Azsea muttered a prayer as she gripped her spear tightly, listening to the sounds of the approaching army outside the gates. They were going to take this outpost, she knew. They all knew. But they were going to make the dwarves pay dearly for it.
A figure from the outside of the fort suddenly broke out into a sprint, clearing the walls in a single jump. It was Elspeth, and she whirled and diced; the archers on the walls didn’t stand a chance, nor did the few ballistae crews she came across. When the gryphons finally neared the wall, there were few arrows to be loosed at them. Very few fell short of the wall, and the gryphons slammed, full force, into the outpost.
The walls fell in an instant, drowned under the combined fury of this dwarven commander and their gryphons. But the ordinaries merely formed a defensive dome of spears and shields, stabbing at any dwarven monster that came too close. The tounic runes on their spears were put to good use, cleaving through the Jvanic flesh as if it wasn’t there, leaving behind wounds that burned as if poisoned and refused to heal.
The first templar squad was destroyed, torn apart in an instant by Elspeth’s whirling blades. The second one instead focused on the gryphon riders. They leapt through the air, cleaving gryphons in half with their blades, or yanking riders off to fall to their deaths. They seemed to flow around the blades and claws of the riders, moving with unnatural speed and hitting with unnatural strength.
When the gates fell, opened from inside by the gryphon riders, they moved in front of the dome of shields and spears, dodging the strikes from the yetis and cutting them down with flicks of their blades. Azsea, when she wasn’t stabbing at yet another gryphon clawing at her shield, watched in awe. They were magnificent, Toun’s perfection made real in combat.
Then of course, Elspeth arrived. She was at best a blur, faster than she had any living right to be. Azsea got a front row seat to yet another power of Elspeth’s, as she stuck out her hand. A massive rune seemed to carve itself into the rock, before spewing forth liquid magma, immolating the rest of the remaining templar squad in a blaze of heat. With almost all of the templars gone, the infantry advanced on the defenders, shields blocking the incoming spear points.
Eventually the defenders were overran, left down to a few survivors, holding their spears and swords tightly, waiting for death.
Elspeth put her blade to Azsea’s neck, and in a powerful voice, told her, “Put down the weapon, or you this will be your last.”
“The Prophet will come. And he will kill you. Then he’ll purge the rest of your kind that infest Galbar. The chaos worshippers and those that obey the Cancer that grows. You will all be wiped from Galbar, to make it perfect, as in Lord Toun’s vision.” Azsea hissed, clinging tightly to her spear.
“I will await the day this prophet comes, then. The Empress under the mountain will surely prove to be their better,” responded Elspeth, pressing her runic blade into Azsea’s neck. It sliced clean through, and Elspeth then withdrew her blade. She turned to the rest, saying, “In the Empress’ name, let none survive!”
The survivors were finished off quickly.
I'll try to get a post out tomorrow. For now, I sleep.
Citadel Dundee, Year of our Empress 50, First Era of the Worm
The Grand Hospital
Elspeth closed her eyes, in her nook above the main floor of the hospital. It was busy, unusually busy, this year. A disease had wracked the entire mountain, and she had pulled many long nights keeping the sick alive. The Empress had shown little care, not even bothering to leave her study. This meant that the lives of the various castes of the dwarves was in the hands of the few who knew the medical arts. The psykers had their own magic to prevent themselves from getting sick, but they were hesitant to use it on the rest of the dwarves.
For what reason Elspeth did not know. Nevertheless, they had sent a detachment of a few psykers, in their ever-ornate masks, to assist in the healing. Their time was limited, and they demanded many breaks. This was in sharp contrast to Elspeth and the rest of the medically-inclined craft smiths. She let out a long, weary sigh. Coughing filled the room. It was only by a stroke of luck the medical staff seemed to not catch the disease.
There was a sound of flapping arm-wings. Someone was coming up to the nook. Elspeth didn’t bother to open her eyes. That was, until the voice rang out. It was the elder of the craft smiths, one of the ones who had studied under the Emanciator. His name Alaisdair, he was one of short temper and shorter still kindness. “Get back down there, you shouldn’t be lazing like an oaf!” he cried.
“I’m waiting for the psykers. We’ve got a group of sick mothers and--” she was cut off abruptly.
“They’ve been reassigned. One of the other psykers fell sick. I told them to focus their efforts on him.” came the response, terse and short.
“What? That’s not fair! They-they--” cut off once again, this time she was looking right at him, shocked.
“Don’t ask why. Now get to work. The sick won’t heal themselves. There’s a fresh batch of herbs from the herbalists at their bedside.” a hint of irritation was creeping into his voice. Elspeth decided it was best not to continue her line of questioning.
She made pulled herself out of the nook, flapping down to the bedside of the mothers. She could see the psykers some distance away, focusing on an older-looking dwarf. His mask was still on, but horns still creeped through. She closed her eyes again, briefly, and turned her head back to her patients. True to his word, he had the herbalists leave more herbs on the stone outcrop at the fungi-weaved cloth bedside. Mushing some of the herbs into a paste in a pestle, she began her work, smearing the medicine on the sores of the patients.
She continued her work with dogged vigilance, long through the night, or what passed as night in the subterranean layers of Citadel Dundee. The psykers stayed at the bedside of the sick member of their ranks.
One by one, the mothers dropped like flies. The disease took too much energy from them, and they could not support themselves. She continued working on the living mothers, as her workload steadily decreased. Eventually Alaisdair walked by, and he stopped. He looked briefly at her, and then grabbed her shoulder, roughly telling her, “Stop. They’re too far gone.”
She froze in place. A helpless fury overtook her. She flashed out a webbed fist, catching Alaisdair in the snout. He collapsed. She screamed at him -- perhaps she pronounced actual words, perhaps not, but they were lost on her. She punched him again. She did not notice at what point the psykers came to her side, and she barely noticed being pulled off of Alaisdair.
He laid there awhile, while the psykers held Elspeth. Eventually, however, he climbed to his feet. One of the psykers asked, “This is your hospital. Shall we mark her?”
A long pause. Alaisdair’s features softened for a moment, but only a moment. Returning to his traditional angry demeanour, he simply responded, “No. We need as many trained in the medical arts as possible. Elspeth, go to another section, maybe the warrior’s beds. You’re done here.”
He wiped some blood from his nostril, and waved them off. They let go of Elspeth, and she just stood there. Alaisdair watched her as the psykers walked back to the bedside of their fallen compatriot.
“Well, why are you just standing there? Get going.” he muttered, still wiping blood off of his snout.
Another long pause.
“With the psykers, we could’ve saved those mothers. That psyker isn’t even close to death. Why?” she choked out.
“You don’t understand, do you?” Alaisdair said, anger creeping into his voice.
“You’re right. I don’t understand. And I probably never will. You sent them to their death. I won’t ever understand how you could do that.” she sputtered the words out, shoving by him as she continued on her way to the warrior’s section. He didn’t look at her as she went.
Alaisdair let out a long, self-loathing sigh. His face hardened again, and he continued his patrols through the hospital.
This is kinda short and I wrote it at 11 PM on melatonin, so forgive me if it's bad.
I'll try to work on my collab and get a new post out soonish. I've been really tired recently.
It was the middle of the night, the air was pleasantly cool. Leri, the moon that controlled Gais' tides, shown brightly in the cloudless sky. Around it, a mural of various stars and planets. They weaved a deep story of constellations and shapes. To think that Staiuskind had gone up there. The two Staius in the yellow car were young, recent creations. They had yet to fully develop a neural network of electrons. Nevertheless, they were old enough to be trusted on their own.
Dust plumed in their wake, they were offroading. The radio was on. "Gooooood evening Narrev! This is your disk jockey, one-eyed Rrruuumbbleeeerrrr! Say say say, what's a little Perintan night without a little Rock n' Roll? We gotta rock tonight, till' broad daylight! Gonna rock around the clock tonight! Take it away, Kiul Brothers!"
The voice of the disc jockey was replaced with a rock song. The two Staius smiled, their favorite. They eventually came to a stop at a bluff, getting out from the vehicle. They sat on the hood, taking in the night. The moon illuminated them both, and the field of stars was dazzling. They were miles away from civilization -- their car had ensured that. A small town was illuminated on the horizon, some streetlights polluting the sky with light.
They had a drag race in the morning, they knew that. But the night was young and the weather was perfect. "Can't believe they're launching the Reaul 7 tomorrow. Think we'll be able to watch it on the telly?" one of them spoke, eliciting a reply from the second. "Hell if I know. I hope we win the race, your hotrod's pretty fast. Just don't tell em' it's your mama's car."
A sigh. A giggle. They looked up at the stars. Some day, Staiuskind would control it all, surely.
"The eyes of the world now look into space. To the moon, and the planets beyond. We have vowed we shall not see it with a hostile flag of conquest, but by a banner of freedom and peace." The voice paused for applause. "We choose to go to the moon not because it is easy, but because it is hard."
"Why do we wish to go there? Because it is there. Space is there. And we're going to climb to it. The moon and the planets are there. New hopes for knowledge and peace are there. And therefore, as we set sail, we ask the First Star's blessing, as we embark on the most dangerous and most hazardous journey upon which our kind has ever embarked." More applause.
The television cut out. It switched to the mission control. There, a hundred Staius were packed into a room, watching their terminals and screens. The launch of Reaul 7 was in order, and the eyes of the world were upon them. If this mission was successful, Leri would be landed upon, and the Staius who landed would then return. It would be a great achievement for Staiuskind.
"Go no go for launch countdown. Cut the chatter in this room." the announcer said, at the behest of the director of the Narrev National Aeronautics and Space Administration. The various peoples at the consoles gave the go for launch, each one in order, and the launch countdown began.
The nation was glued to their television sets. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4. Initiate engines. 3. 2. 1. Launch.
The rocket lifted up into the air, and soon to the atmosphere. It shed its main rockets, and moved to secondary orbital thrusters. That too was then shed, and the ship with three astronauts aboard was sent into space.
Then, later, 210 hours into the mission, mission control was again called to action. They were entering lunar orbit. They were go for power descent. The ship began the descent, with two astronauts aboard the lander. Millions of people were watching as the lander hit the surface. The astronaut, their shell covered in reflective gold foil -- a lesson hard-learned in solar radiation from previous accidents -- stepped down onto the surface. Cheers filled mission control.
"For here we have been, and for here we will wish to return."
The two astronnauts planted a flag of the Federated States of Narrev, and placed a plaque by its side. The plaque read:
HERE STAIUS FROM THE PLANET GAIS
FIRST SET FOOT UPON THE MOON
WE CAME IN PEACE FOR ALL STAIUSKIND.
This was all broadcasted worldwide, every channel covering it. Not out of force, but out of each channel's own decision. From Cantor to Narrev, all corners of the globe were watching the two Staius. Then, came the broadcast of the astronauts on their plaque.
"This is our commemoration that will be here until someone like us, until some of you, who are out there, who are the promise of the future, come back to read it again."
Thus finished the first broadcast from Gais' moon. It was a historic moment for every Staius, and a historic moment for their entire species. They had completed their first evolutionary steps into the universe.
Dust plumed in their wake, they were offroading. The radio was on. "Gooooood evening Narrev! This is your disk jockey, one-eyed Rrruuumbbleeeerrrr! Say say say, what's a little Perintan night without a little Rock n' Roll? We gotta rock tonight, till' broad daylight! Gonna rock around the clock tonight! Take it away, Kiul Brothers!"
The voice of the disc jockey was replaced with a rock song. The two Staius smiled, their favorite. They eventually came to a stop at a bluff, getting out from the vehicle. They sat on the hood, taking in the night. The moon illuminated them both, and the field of stars was dazzling. They were miles away from civilization -- their car had ensured that. A small town was illuminated on the horizon, some streetlights polluting the sky with light.
They had a drag race in the morning, they knew that. But the night was young and the weather was perfect. "Can't believe they're launching the Reaul 7 tomorrow. Think we'll be able to watch it on the telly?" one of them spoke, eliciting a reply from the second. "Hell if I know. I hope we win the race, your hotrod's pretty fast. Just don't tell em' it's your mama's car."
A sigh. A giggle. They looked up at the stars. Some day, Staiuskind would control it all, surely.
**---**
"The eyes of the world now look into space. To the moon, and the planets beyond. We have vowed we shall not see it with a hostile flag of conquest, but by a banner of freedom and peace." The voice paused for applause. "We choose to go to the moon not because it is easy, but because it is hard."
"Why do we wish to go there? Because it is there. Space is there. And we're going to climb to it. The moon and the planets are there. New hopes for knowledge and peace are there. And therefore, as we set sail, we ask the First Star's blessing, as we embark on the most dangerous and most hazardous journey upon which our kind has ever embarked." More applause.
The television cut out. It switched to the mission control. There, a hundred Staius were packed into a room, watching their terminals and screens. The launch of Reaul 7 was in order, and the eyes of the world were upon them. If this mission was successful, Leri would be landed upon, and the Staius who landed would then return. It would be a great achievement for Staiuskind.
"Go no go for launch countdown. Cut the chatter in this room." the announcer said, at the behest of the director of the Narrev National Aeronautics and Space Administration. The various peoples at the consoles gave the go for launch, each one in order, and the launch countdown began.
The nation was glued to their television sets. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4. Initiate engines. 3. 2. 1. Launch.
The rocket lifted up into the air, and soon to the atmosphere. It shed its main rockets, and moved to secondary orbital thrusters. That too was then shed, and the ship with three astronauts aboard was sent into space.
Then, later, 210 hours into the mission, mission control was again called to action. They were entering lunar orbit. They were go for power descent. The ship began the descent, with two astronauts aboard the lander. Millions of people were watching as the lander hit the surface. The astronaut, their shell covered in reflective gold foil -- a lesson hard-learned in solar radiation from previous accidents -- stepped down onto the surface. Cheers filled mission control.
"For here we have been, and for here we will wish to return."
The two astronnauts planted a flag of the Federated States of Narrev, and placed a plaque by its side. The plaque read:
HERE STAIUS FROM THE PLANET GAIS
FIRST SET FOOT UPON THE MOON
WE CAME IN PEACE FOR ALL STAIUSKIND.
This was all broadcasted worldwide, every channel covering it. Not out of force, but out of each channel's own decision. From Cantor to Narrev, all corners of the globe were watching the two Staius. Then, came the broadcast of the astronauts on their plaque.
"This is our commemoration that will be here until someone like us, until some of you, who are out there, who are the promise of the future, come back to read it again."
Thus finished the first broadcast from Gais' moon. It was a historic moment for every Staius, and a historic moment for their entire species. They had completed their first evolutionary steps into the universe.
As an apology for a post where the description and pacing were awful, I'll work on the required sheets today.
Here is the first, elaborating hain body language a bit more. This will be in the hain body language hider on Toun's character thread.
This is about the limit I will probably provide as canon for anyone trying to write hain fanfics for some goodness-forsaken reason.
Christ, the hain wiki page is going to be heeeiiiiiiuuuuuuuge.
"toun x hain species"
brb writing this
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