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8 yrs ago
Current This is why you shouldn't use an actual toaster to host a website.
5 likes
9 yrs ago
[@Dnafein] Because people are salty about didney and have forgotten about the prequels.
2 likes
9 yrs ago
*angry moth sounds*
9 yrs ago
Joke's on you Dagoth-Ur, I brought eighty bottles of sujamma.
1 like
9 yrs ago
No.

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Hi. Just wondering if I could do various hive minds, I know you hinted toward no in the first post, but they can be reasoned with. They just have absolutely no moral grounds. They won't attack for the purpose of attacking, but rather because it is the most logical thing to do.


Depending on how the concept is structured and such, could well be done. Pop on over to the OOC if you're still interested and post what you got there. If it gets accepted then you can shift it over to the Characters tab and join in the IC once that gets started.
@Legion02

The edits tidy things up nicely, I have no further comments for the app other than: Accepted.
@Legion02@duck55223

A few things to look over, and then I think we can be good to go. First, and quite possibly the most important, is the defining of what Eden actually is. I appreciate that it was left vague so as to keep from having to over-define it and possibly run into debate on whether or not it would actually work in the way you want, but at the moment I'm left wondering. Is it a true energy source, something that obeys the physical laws of the universe, and thusly is bound by the law of conservation of mass? If so, then where does new Eden come from, and how is only found on the homeworld of the Archons? The alternative, is to define it purely as magic. This would make defining it otherwise as extremely irrelevant, as nearly all of your tech would now be Magitech, and as such, probably not bound by physical laws.

Second, and with the potential to be more of an issue, is the Archons themselves. From your app, they are literally energy beings, though how they came about is mostly undefined beyond a 'when'. Are they actual ascended beings, or just some people who have had the misfortune of being transformed into new beings? On either account, I would like to at least a little explanation as to how it came about, and whether or not it is possible to be recreated.

And some other things that aren't really important that would help greatly, is to give a little more filler to the sheet in the form of providing some detail to the military, society, and tech sections so that we have a better idea as to what nation is truly like. Give some more info on the Immortal Fleet, at the moment it feels like you want us to look at them and go "Those guys are ded 'ard." but I'm not really feeling that sentiment when I read through half a paragraph of "This is they.". Build them up into that force to be reckoned with that you allude to them as, through things like what kind of people command the fleet, how the fleet was formed, engagements in the past, and how the fleet as a whole operates. Look to my own sheet and how I build up the Fractal Armada as an example if need be, but more or less give the section some life. Quality over quantity is generally the rule to follow, but if the more attention you show to something, the more the rest of us will see that it's something truly important to your nation and something to pay attention to.

Your culture section is also notoriously absent, which is not entirely your own fault as it's not in the NS template, but it's something that would be extremely helpful in gauging interactions with your nation. You don't have to go super in-depth and tell us every little detail about what life as a member of your nation is, but just a little peek into what things are like would go a long way into making your nation more than just a sheet of information and more into a living entity.

Just my own thoughts on the sheet as a whole, I find some of the concepts interesting and would like to see more done with them as a whole.
Anyway, Mulspan is gonna beat the crap out of Babur. Don't ask why, don't ask how, just know that it's coming.

I think Babur is much more badass though. Watch out, or he'll stab you in the eye


We all know Marianna is the real badass =P
@Alfhedil Before I write anything, I need some intelligence reports. What is the style of the capital, what does the royal residence look like and who will be present there, as in people of note.


If you want, we can set up a PM convo to get this stuff going and collab out the full post.
Georgia


My condolences for your loss.
@Voltus_Ventus Not quite what I had planned out, but I figured I would at least get something up in response to Ventium.

@Raijinslayer There's something there for you as well, with the increasing tensions in Arisovia and the Hegemon's armies on the march.
Abeyance


It had been three days since the might of Eisenkern had begun marching into Arisovia, and three days since the people of that abused land had known peace, even if it was under the thumb of a despised ruler. State troops marched up and down the streets of each city in the region, their weapons held across their chest and ready to use, the faceless helms scanning every individual they passed and almost looking for an excuse. Even under the increased presence of the Queen's army, rebellion festered among the populace, in Grajewo most of all as those who had before feared adding their voices to the rebellion, now did so in secret. As if insult to injury, foreigners had just landed upon Eisenkern soil, without even a word given to the council on whether or not the Arisovians agreed to allow them.

This was all until her enforcers made their arrival in Grajewo. Marching in lockstep, the hiss of servos wheezing underneath their armor plates black as the dead night, those creatures called Black-Iron made it clear that Marianna Desrosiers owned Arisovia. Each one bore the markings of the serpent upon their shoulders, etched in acid into the armor and spiraling in complex patterns that differed from every other soldier. Hideous serpentine faces sat upon their necks, the helmets they wore showing clear their allegiance to Kohryillios and the Red Queen, and unlike those of the state-troops, solely created to strike terror into whatever dared oppose the will of their patron. What's more is that each one bore a strip of parchment affixed to their left shoulder, a single red mark from where they swore their blood-oath to their queen.

These were the monsters who were said to have been forged of the blackest iron, deep in the pits of the Queen's own withered heart. Each one held his own sins that would have been tantamount to treason in any other country, punishable by the most painful death. Gathered from those who dared to defy her to begin with, each prospect was once a murderer, a thief, a criminal of the most profane crimes. She broke them all to her will, forced them to live only for her. Forged anew, these men and women were now more terrible than anything they may have been before. Now they lived and breathed only for her love, and killed any that dared to defy her will. Whether it be an armed man, or a terrified child in the embrace of a weeping mother, if they did not bend their knee to their beloved queen, then they would be purged. Most terrible of all, however, was one who had been born and raised in this very city. A child of Grajewo, one who had before loved his city and the people of his nation. This man had once been a prominent figure among the community, one who bore the charisma of a leader, but the modesty to remain among the poor. He had been among those in the city when Marianna rained fire and lead down upon both innocent and guilty alike.

From the rubble of the city-block he lived, the man lay broken and burning in the fires of hatred that he had so desperately tried to stay. In his last moments, he watched everyone he loved burn to death before his eyes, powerless to help as his fall from the third floor of his home had broken both legs. Consigned to die along with them, the man closed his eyes and embraced death, only to open them to find a beautiful woman kneeling down over him, striking emerald eyes set in a face that seemed to be of the finest porcelain. Even as he became enthralled by the woman who slowly dug him out of what should have been his grave, he knew there was something else entirely behind her beauty. It was a poison, one that even as he greedily took it in, he knew was worse than death. So terrible was her poison, that when she told him she was Marianna Desrosiers, and that he would give himself fully to her will, he did so. That woman who had seen fit to order the murder of everyone he had ever known, she who had pulled him from death's embrace and spit in the face of the reaper himself.

Now the creature that was Gailestingumas stood idly by the throne of Eisenkreis, ready to give its life for her if she but asked, for she was now all he knew. Arisovia, his friends, his family, and even his childhood sweetheart, they were all forgotten. The mass of scarred flesh and steel that stood by the Red Queen's side was her mercy, a pet that needed no leash as it existed only to serve her. Truly if a being could have a blacker heart that Marianna, it was this one who had lost everything and knew only hatred. So it was that he did not even flinch as his queen began the address to the Arisovian people from the Tower of Eisenkern.





Sammael Kzechverin awoke with a grumble, a hand raising up to scratch at the ragged growth on his chin, wondering if today was the day that he would shave that beard. Looking over at the mechanical clock on his endtable, he decided that today was not the day, and swung his legs out over the edge of the bed. Slowly he raised the shades in his modest bedroom that was his entire house, and swore as the light of the sun hit him directly in the face. "What the shit is this." He gruffly mumbled as he dressed himself and walked over to the kitchenette that had seen better days likely a century ago. Dishes sat piled in the sink and left out food and discarded casings lay strewn across the counter-top hiding what could have been innumerable species of mold gaining sapience in his laziness.

This laziness was not something the twenty-eight year old noble of house Kzechverin had always known, however, and in many rights it was a way of solace in a life destroyed by political maneuvering. He chuckled to himself as he looked back on his prime, when five years ago he was next in line to become Stadthalter of the nation bearing his namesake. All ruined by a puppet without strings. The thought came bitterly as he remembered how his own dear little sister had stolen the throne from him by what had seemed at the time being perfectly inept. She had never known the rule of even her own house, always at the will of others, about as close to a servant one of noble blood could ever truly be while still holding a title. The perfect puppet to place at the head of their beloved country.

Until she cut her strings. They saw too late the cunning of a princess that had always been pampered and looked down upon by the nobility, treated as a doll and made to dance for their amusement. He was there when she laughed at them when they asked her to take war to Eisenkreis, to finally take battle to their enemy of nearly two centuries. The look on the faces of the nobles was that of utter shock as they found the delicate princess had spine enough for the army, her look of amusement as she told them she fancied the woman known across the continent as The Red Queen. Fucking sapphic. Again bitterness filled him as he looked over to the time and realized that he was required by his queen to escort foreign guests.

His queen. Those two words brought hate to the forefront of his mind and without even being aware of it, his fingers flexed tightly around the metal cup in his hand, the flimsy sheet metal bending in his grip. To be reduced to being a slave of the bitch queen, he was her puppet and nothing more. A toy paraded out to greet diplomats and brought back to the castle when the mood struck her to be amused herself. Nevertheless, it was not within his power to deny her, and he knew she would just find another to break.

An hour later he found himself on the tarmac of the parade grounds exclusively given over to the landing of foreign airships, that of the nation of Ventium squatting its bulk currently and the diplomat said nation sitting upon a bench nearby awaiting escort. To either side of Sammael marched guards in the regalia of Eisenkern, their dark armour and flowing purple capes denoting their importance, but not entirely to the foreign diplomat. They were there by Marianna's orders namely for Sammael, to reinforce that he belonged to her, and that he was to serve her utterly in this endeavor. Resisting the urge to spit upon the ground then and there, he checked that he was appropriate and approached the group at the bench.

"My lords." He began, keeping to as best he could a common language between the two. "I am Sammael Kzechverin, Consort to the Hegemon, and I am to escort you to the Tower of Eisenkreis if you would accompany me."
From all things, there is always a remnant of that greater truth that once existed before, a sign that loss is not ever a true loss, that even in death, life goes on. They are just such an entity, the cast offs of a species that existed long before the stars of their region of space were even born, a species doomed to die by their own artifice, yet refusing to let go of their own hubris. These long dead organic constructs created the first of what would become the Synchronicity, those few survivors of a threat that could not be named, those few who resolved to carry on the legacy of their kind to the stars and beyond. From emotion and primal drive, cold logic and the need to preserve a legacy erupted with the fury of a species that would not be denied their place among the stars. Their manner speaks of logic in all things, yet behind that, they are screaming that they will not go out silently into the night to be forgotten, that they will be remembered. All that they knew, all that they loved has fallen into ash, and they will not suffer the same fate.

The Synchronicity will rise.

The NS may be a bit off-format, but all the information is there:




From all things, there is always a remnant of that greater truth that once existed before, a sign that loss is not ever a true loss, that even in death, life goes on. They are just such an entity, the cast offs of a species that existed long before the stars of their region of space were even born, a species doomed to die by their own artifice, yet refusing to let go of their own hubris. These long dead organic constructs created the first of what would become the Synchronicity, those few survivors of a threat that could not be named, those few who resolved to carry on the legacy of their kind to the stars and beyond. From emotion and primal drive, cold logic and the need to preserve a legacy erupted with the fury of a species that would not be denied their place among the stars. Their manner speaks of logic in all things, yet behind that, they are screaming that they will not go out silently into the night to be forgotten, that they will be remembered. All that they knew, all that they loved has fallen into ash, and they will not suffer the same fate.

The Synchronicity will rise.

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