Andreyich

Quantity is Not Quality: My Gripes with Advanced.

<Snipped quote by Andreyich>

As someone who looks down on nearly everyone, and especially upon @Andreyich, I agree.

@Penny

ditto

<Snipped quote by Andreyich>

I never had a problem with people who used those terms.

@POOHEAD189

glad for u

Quantity is Not Quality: My Gripes with Advanced.

Ngl the testing ability to have someone vomit a still legible small essay for a post is a pretty good vetting system to get out those without dedication and such. Also there is literally nothing wrong with elitism especially in a goddamn hobby like RP

Quantity is Not Quality: My Gripes with Advanced.

You should consider high casual low advanced :^)

Eden(Small-scale Space NRP)

Music

I could give you something about how I had a troubled childhood, or a particularly good ne, I don't know I only lived one life so I can't really measure it against much. Won't say I can't complain though, if I had nothing to complain about then I wouldn't have had the rest of my story. Anyway, point I'm trying to make: if they tell you some long background about me it's just filler for the sexy movie they make about my life. Everything before that day didn't matter much, all the made me go down my path happened on that day. Wasn't even a very long day at that.

Woke up, mom was making something to eat, I honestly don't remember what. It was good, or maybe it wasn't, all of my mind was on that damn test. It's a little funny to me that I still remember all those equations and formulae. Catch that? I said formulae, not formulas. Still a little smart-ass, me. Anyway I got on my little trike and got to school, didn't even wave to the kids on the bus even though I usually did that's how hyped I was for that Goddamn test.

I got to school and parked, grabbing my bag and running to my first class. Got through the first three periods like usual, then came the long awaited third. Or rather, it didn't. Everyone was outside of class on their mobiles, at least those that were still here instead of going home or to eat. "What's happening?" I asked. Lucia, she just pointed to a paper taped to the door after stepping aside. Devices out of order, test cancelled, come Saturday at four for extra credit it read. I was pissed. I studied the hell out of that unit and knew every bit of it and it was the largest one, hence it'd be worth the most. But it was gone because the electronics at the school were out of order, which in turn was because the people far away in their spires of gold couldn't be bothered to send a man for just a few hours to figure out why some kids couldn't get the fucking learning they wanted. "Bullshit. Alright so what do we do? You coming Saturday?" I asked Luci. She shrugged in response to me. "No." I didn't like that about her, she didn't seem to care about school despite having a Doctor and lawyer for parents. Maybe that was exactly why, come to think of it. "Jesus Christ what the fuck do." I moaned. "They sound up your alley." she said, not realizing the rhetorical nature of the question. She pointed to a little poster on the wall opposite. I don't really remember what was on it. Probably something about justice and society, it was advertising a place for people to spill their grievances. In retrospect, I was really stupid not to think it wasn't a trap for what some might call dangerous people. Well I recorded the address of where the meeting would be and went home. Dad greeted me, asking why I was home early. I said last class was cancelled and there was a makeup test on the weekend I would go to. He said that it was good that the test was cancelled because I could then help him on the fields and I wouldn't go to the one on the weekend because we had to dig a new line for irrigation. Well we got in a big argument, one that made me really fucking pissed. The crux of it was something like this:

"Why? I need it for extra credit. I need those marks dad."

"No, you don't. You're going to be a farmer like me."

"I've got the grades to enter any place I want for Engineering. I just need a little more for scholarships and this test will get me that."

"Look, Felix, you got a talent. But it's going to be wasted. Let's say you get to some big shot core university. So you become an Engineer, you get back home and what? You spend your days fixing trikes and trucks until some idiot like Miguel sends you a real messed up one that blows up in your face. All the while you were working for half the pay I make feeding them core whoresons, breathing in all the dust and shit from the parts and you're dead at fifty but you wish you died at twenty."

"Thats not fucking right. I'm good at all this stuff I can fix our tractors and I built that damn warehouse all by myself I-"

"It's not fair? Come on boy you knew that was wrong the moment you said it because life's not fair. It's great you can fix stuff up you'll have a much easier time around the farms when something makes a funny noise. But this is the life that's for you, there's no way around it. Some day you'll see your grandkids be big farming barons but now you do what you're told. Now go get some fuel cells, tractor's dry."

Well, so I went. But as I said I was pissed, and on the way back a little reminder pinged on my mobile. The meeting was that evening, and after all dad said I felt I really had to speak my mind some more. So I finished the day, but rather than going to bed I told dad I was going out with some friends. Yeah bare with me I'm not at the cool shit yet, but I'll get there soon.

Eden(Small-scale Space NRP)

Shortly after the January Massacres

---

It was yet another wait in the Nyrene system, and he Neohumans under Captain Viktor Tarau extremely bored with their experience. Waiting around was the job of Uskoks, not Reislaufers; the present company had signed up for adventure, not glorified guard duty! Much time passed before the first alert came. This was different than the last one. This was an actual fleet, even if a small one. The savages of the Kingdom of Orleans had arrived, likely upset over the animals they called proxies being slaughtered. An urge to spit was barely suppressed by the Captain, who promptly opened a line with other Councillary ships in the system.

Orders were simple, move in as close as possible. Aim weapons, and surround the Kingdom's vessels. Do everything to provoke them possible, whilst remaining absolved of any blame for potential escalation. But it seemed the diplomatic fleet had good resolve, and did not respond to the bait. "Shame." the Sergeant said. "I'd have liked to squash a few more heads. The frogs had such soft ones, very pleasant to bash in."

"No such luck Sergeant. Take us back to Sol, we're done here."

---

A little later

---

The Varangian returned to the Sol system, its home, its genesis. The crew reported for their upgrades, improvements to the genetic composition and cybernetics provided over the course of a day. Little by little, Neohumanity got better. There were new recruits to the ship, a few men fresh out of the factory, a few people simply out for adventure being tired of their quiet lives in Sol, a few people just now maturing and being told by their aptitude testing that it was a soldier's life for them. For the next assignment of The Varangian the crew would be hunting some pirates to ease in new members, just a quick few purges to get a taste of combat beyond the simulations. They refuelled and restocked, before once more leaving Sol for new space.

They were sent to a frontier system prowling for pirates. Not a system that was a tributary of the CCN, but one to welcome the free security provided by their hunting (provided of course, they didn't come in numbers to signal it was a potential invasion). They activated the stealth regime of the vessel, before settling down just by the jump gate. Now the wait begun, sorting civilian from pirate ships until some real prey was found.

Viktor was sitting in the command bay along with the Sergeant, just finishing up the activation of stealth protocols until one of the people passing through the room caught his eye. A young woman by the natural black hair, the sight of which made him lament that he hadn’t wholly reviewed the staff yet. “You there, can you come here?” he beckoned, and as the woman turned to him realization dawned; it was the same psychic as he had fought on Uracao. She avoided his gaze, having clearly recognized him first and instead looked to the ground. “It’s, it’s you… you’re different.” Viktor said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“Yes, they made sure of that.” she replied, finally looking up. Her eyes, previously a very dark brown much like Victor’s were now glowing red prosthetics. Her skin was largely the same visually save for a few lines making her new cybernetic nature obvious. She was bigger of course, as Neohumans tend to be in contrast with their outdated cousins and her thin frame was bulked up with muscle here and there. The Sergeant looked up at the hubbub, eyes narrowing on the girl. She looked back at him, after a moment raising a finger and muttering “Y-you’re the butcher, aren’t you?” He didn’t quite recognize her at first, but in the precise moment he did his chainaxe roared into action before he even grabbed it and ran forth at her with a savage growl. Fear gripped the young woman but she didn’t panic, using her abilities to swipe the chainblade from the Sergeant’s hand. This did little but marginally increment his fury as in milliseconds he closed the distance. He flung a fist that would tear open vehicles, but it stopped mid-air by a psychic shield his quarry generated, hairs and then skin slowly burning away. Oleksandr didn’t relent though, fists cycling at the shield one by one and in moments cracking it with violent arcs of electricity across the room. Both he and the psychic were sent airborne, but before Kjaro could get up Viktor put his boot on the man’s throat. “No, stay down. Relax.”

“What? She’s one of them! She fought for them let me go! Let me go!”

“She joined us, Sergeant. Relax, before you become Private.”

Kjaro didn’t bother dignifying the Captain’s words with a response, grabbing him by the leg with both hands and sending his body flying. He righted himself and once more threw himself at the psychic. Every punch he threw was lethal and it was by pure luck the woman avoided them. Viktor grabbed the Sergeant from behind, doing his best to restrain the man. But it was pointless, for from the depths of Kjaro’s rage came strength, speed, and skill unimaginable. But what was imaginable was the half dozen Legionnaires that came and restrained the beast. Even they struggled against his violent thrashing, but he was ultimately subdued.

“Recruit… what’s the name?”

“Alyx. Alyx Fuentes.”

“Recruit Fuentes please get to your quarters I have to speak with the Sergeant momentarily and then I will check in on you. Go on.”

Watching her exit the room, Viktor motioned to the Legionnaires to let go of the Sergeant, who was no longer red in the flesh.

“Right then, Sergeant Kjaro. Tell me where all this hate comes from.”

“She fought for the Federation, for the bastards that want nothing but our end! She has-”

“No, Sergeant. Tell me where it really comes from. Tell me the story you’ve been avoiding for the many weeks we’ve been together. Tell me why is it you’re ‘the Butcher’. You rank depends on it you know, and I’ll find out anyway.”

The Sergeant spat, still shaking with desires for violence in spite of having relatively calmed down. “You want to know? Fine. It fucking hurts me you little shit, that’s why I don’t tell it but fine, just to please your little sensibilities I’ll tell it. Maybe you can learn something from it.”

---

About a century ago

---

Theme

It was a true hail of fire. Captain Oleksandr Kjaro really hadn't seen so many combatants in one place before. Like ants the Feds stormed the bunker, but valour held the position. Valour, and some really big guns. "Like water from a fucking hose!" an Uskok called out, the unending stream of fire eternally keeping him pinned down.

"Don't worry, we've had worse boys!" Captain Kjaro cried, but he knew it was a lie. The Feds really weren't fucking around.

"I see twenty more running up from the right!"

"Got four!"

"Grenade!"

Messages of this sort flew across the noosphere, but as more and more lucky shots from the enemy came the amount of outgoing messages decreased one by one. The bunker had to hold, or else the Federation would know the real item of interest on this world and then bad things could ensue very, very quickly. But with an ever decreasing amount of soldiers something had to change or within an hour this swarm would break through and a whole company of the outdateds would poke around in the… facility below the bunker.

Kjaro dropped from his spot of cover, slowly crawling into the depths of the bunker. "Sir! Sir what the hell are you doing?" Demanded an Uskok.

"Saving us, and the bunker!" Oleksandr replied.

"Sir get back here! There's too many of them, we need you!"

"Just keep your heads down." the Captain muttered, crawling on. A few bullets ricocheted at him, but they lost enough velocity to no longer even hurt.

"What the hell are you doing?" Demanded a soldier, as Kjaro went to fiddling with the bunker's defence array. The turrets were long since blown apart in the fighting but preventing a simple charge were the radioactive and sonic emanators. This insured only foes in heavy power armour could get close, but the fodder had to kill the defenders first. Slowly, he weakened it, before with slight intermissions turned these defences on and off. The region's reactor was busted, and the enemy could suppose that the defence array was losing power, in addition to receiving more and more battle damages. They could not possibly know the facility had auxiliary power. After a few more moments, Kjaro wholly turned the radioactive and sonic emissions off.

It took several minutes for the attackers to realize through the noise and smoke of their firearms that the defence keeping them at range was off. But the moment it was apparent, they were emboldened and rushed forth. Now suppressive fire was the aim, not just the result as of their shooting, men getting ever closer. They were just about in grenade throwing range with some of the foe reaching to do just that, as Kjaro screamed: "I know what I'm doing boys!" before violently turning the defence array back on to full power and then some, having spent the last few minutes overclocking it in the terminal.

The first thing the enemy soldiers felt was the series of sonic pulses, each violently rupturing organs and blood streams internal and external alike. Then the effects of the radiation was clear, more of the same happening to the attackers in addition to skin melting; the combined effects of Sonics and radiation turned the infantry to human(oid) slurries. The troops in power armour now found themselves without support against an entrenched for and those that wouldn't run didn't take long to be overwhelmed by the weight of fire.

"That wouldn't work ninety nine times out of ten Sir, you risked our lives for a gambit."

"It only has to work this time. 's why I'm Captain, you're Lieutenant. Now then Kessler, what’s the news from the rest of the world.”

From the eyes of the Lieutenant projected a hologram of the world, many key points on it being marked.

“Several counter-offensives have been met with success, I-sector parts one to thirty-nine have been retaken as well as the entirety of K sector. It seems the enemy decided to go for a heavy advance into the A-sector, an unexpected and bold push but they’ve gone very deep in mere hours.”

Oleksandr's smug demeanour instantly dropped, his subordinates for the first time seeing him unsettled. Knowing he had to keep up morale Kjaro quickly went back to his previous appearance but the veneer had cracked in everyone's eyes. "How far?" the Captain demanded.

"Kilometres. In some pockets they're about to cross into B sector." the display shifted to show precise troop movements, and a mixture of fear and frothing fury started to rise in the man. "We're only a few kilometres from there we're going to flank the enemy and assist the defence of A sector."

"Those weren't our orders."

"I am your superior, Lieutenant, and I give you your orders."

"My orders were given directly from the Governor and supercede your authority."

"Shut up! Everyone come with me!"

Oleksandr started walking off, but he didn't have to turn his head to hear nobody following. "So that's it, is it." He spun on his heels, walking over face to face with Kessler. "Fine. You want to defend this useless bunker? Go ahead. But as a defender you have no use for that jump pack. Hand it over."

"It was issued to me."

"You know Lieutenant, it wasn't a question and somehow you still managed to give a wrong answer."

A fist swung in to strike Kessler on the chin, removing his balance. With that his legs were swiped out from under him and the Captain jumped on him. He flipped the man over and his hands dug into the flesh of the Lieuyenant's back." I didn't want to do this Andrei." he said, ripping out the jump pack from the man's body with much meat still attached. "Come to think of it, might need these too." Kjaro continued, ripping off the arms and legs from Kessler. They weren't his size, but if he lost his own then they'd suffice for quick replacement. Mag-locking the limbs and necessary supplies across his combat webbing Kjaro looked up at the Uskoks with rifles upraised. He laughed. "None of you little shots are going to shoot me. Why would you? You'd only damage an already poor situation. Now if you’re all too cowardly to come with me then lower your weapons, have a rest.” Kjaro stood up, turned and after jamming the jump pack into his flesh got a running start, before soaring on wings of fire.

He flew for some time to A sector, the cold wind in the skies relaxing Captain Kjaro and letting him clear up any negative thoughts about his family’s state. They’re safe, they’re safe... he reassured himself, not even noticing the first shots that hit him. But he was soon made aware of the fact anti-air fire going at him, his flight suffering noticeably. Looking down he noticed a proper anti-air cannon taking aim, and acted fast. The soldier broke the mental link connecting his cybernetics to the jump-pack, disconnecting him from it. The pack kept on flying, taking the AA fire while the Captain plummeted towards the ground. He spun trying to slow down his flight, but it was to no avail. As he crashed through the roof of a building he hit, he at least noted he was close to his destination. This was A sector, the designation for the city of Anselm. It was one of the few true cities of the planet, a small oasis of high-life from the rough deserts of New Babylon. Naturally, the Neohuman arrivals to New Babylon of course settling here — Svetlana, Helga, Jaako, Karina and Stepan Kjaro all among them.

The Captain righted himself, checking his ocular display for his exact location. He was close to his family residence, but not close enough. Righting himself, he looked about and listened to check his surroundings. It became pretty clear he was deep in Federation controlled territory, and he had to move fast. This was the third floor of the building, and while there were no troops on it a quick scan revealed there were some on the first floor and in the cellars who were promptly going to his position. The Neohuman ran forwards to smash through the wall and jump to the street below. There were several soldiers of the Federation present, quick to their weapons. But whilst airborne Kjaro was already preparing for battle and having landed his pistol hit the first man to properly aim his rifle, before going to full-auto and suppressing the rest. In but a second he crossed the street into the building on the opposite side, the sliding doors having been blown off and on the ground. It was formerly a shopping complex of some sort, but now it mostly housed the vile invaders of this land along with a few locals or refugees.

Kjaro knew that the men from the street were hot on his trail and while he was considerably faster than them they could easily get backup to surround him, and he had to be quick. The Captain ducked into a corridor with several small shops on either side, but unfortunately man were already in it rather than just in the shops. Bullets and lasers instantly flew at him forcing him to side-step into one of the shops. He took out his own rifle and a cluster of grenades, throwing four at once with one hand whilst taking aim with the rifle in his other hand. The foe ducked for cover regardless of if a grenade was directed at them and they all handily gave him the opportunity to shoot them in the back or their sides. Rifle upraised he continued on through the corridor, breathing heavily. A man poked his head out to check why the hell was shooting happening in the zone of respite. He didn’t even have time to process Oleksandr’s presence before his head was vapourized by a laser. Oleksandr could hear men descending down stairs to open the door on the opposite end of the corridor, and knew he had to act fast. He ran past the many shops which he promptly noted had people within, but he couldn’t kill them all and he had to ignore them. Just as the soldiers on the other end were about to open the door, he barrelled into it with his shoulder, knocking down the man hit by it before falling down together with him. Being more prepared he reacted for faster than the enemy’s comrades and so he unleashed a beam of laser to the throat of every enemy. Even more were coming down the staircase and so Kjaro worked fast dropping the almost empty battery of his rifle and slapped in a new one. The wall was far stronger here and Kjaro likely couldn’t so quickly smash through it so quickly by himself, and so he threw another grenade upwards to a turn in the staircase. It forced the men above to stop their progress, and it softened the wall so that the Captain could simply run through it.

He dropped into a grassy patch below, not bothering to roll with his augmented frame. He ran forwards, noticing he was by the unloading bay of the shopping centre. Men were at rest here, having used the garage to store tanks. The man tried to crouch past them at first using the now unwatered bushes of the place as cover, but he knew the men behind him were in hot pursuit and quickly it dawned he wouldn’t be able so simply sneak past the tankists. He stood up sprinting, the enemy soldiers first not taking notice of him. But soon they did, and all had different reactions. Some ran to raise an alarm, others to weapons, while a few went inside the tank and a few simply ran for their lives. Cursing, Oleksandr fired carelessly hitting some men whilst forcing others to hit the deck. He ran towards the tank, which the Feds got operational in record time and were about to fire on Kjaro. But they hadn’t considered the range he was in, and with a jump in an underhand throw landed his last grenade down the barrel of the tank. Only one man realized what happened quick enough to hop out, the rest were vapourized inside their metal cage. The Captain felt bullets hit him in the back, but he couldn’t deal with them and he simply had to keep moving.

He ran through a smaller building with its original purpose now forgotten save “office” of some sort, this one thankfully being abandoned. On the other side a patrol was going down a street and it was through sheer luck Kjaro got behind a tree before it noticed him. The marching column of soldiers passed just in time for him to run across yet another street into a building he recognized a little more. This was formerly the police station of the city, quite a large complex, the paramilitary nature of which was clearly capitalized upon by the Federation occupants.

Through it was the quickest route to get home.

By the sound of gunfire it was clear he was reaching the frontline, a thought that did not go down well for the Captain. But he powered on, walking into the station that had it’s doors open, given this was the side upon which combat was not supposed to be happening. But he heard voices and movement which indicated that it was still heavily populated. For about a minute he hid behind the reception of the station as a squad of soldiers in power armour walked past, before continuing into the depths of the building. He held his breath (a purely cosmetic action that helped the man concentrate) crouching down a hallway, checking a scan of the building’s layout for his quickest way out. His plans were promptly interrupted as he overheard the same power-armoured squad marching towards his location, clearly a regular patrol of the building. He ducked to the side into an office which he came to realize was an interrogation room. Locking the door behind himself, Kjaro realized that perhaps this was for the best given it meant it was sound-proofed, and this would make sure nobody was aware of his coming fight with the very large, gorilla-like Simmie in the room. The beast pounded it’s chest, but in spite of its bulk it was very fast. Before the Captain could raise his rifle to fire the thing swiped it out of his hands before trying to grab either shoulder. But Kjaro was a Neohuman, and he could more than match this filthy alien! The man’s hands locked with those of the ape, and he laughed as he saw the look of surprise on the Simmie’s face when not only was it unable to push the man’s hands back, but instead Kjaro was pushing it’s whole arms back and rather painfully behind its body. It hooted in suffering, but nobody could hear it. It’s hands broke, and Kjaro let go of the thing that now tried to crawl backwards and away. It was to no use however, Kjaro wasn’t going to let it be and twisted it’s head so violently that it came off. Perhaps this moment of savagery was a mistake, as it let blood splatter onto the tiny window of the door to the room. The Captain panicked believing the patrol might be alerted by this, and seeing no other option jumped down the garbage chute of the room. He had trouble fitting in it, but after breaking a bit of machinery he quite happily slid down. This was no longer a police station however, and sliding down Kjaro didn’t hit a pile of garbage, instead falling simply quite hard onto a steel floor. But it was nothing compared to the recent trauma he took, so it was ignored. Getting upright he wasted no time, climbing out of the garbage repository and looking at the scene before him. The basement was something of a storage for the Feds it seemed, crates of all sorts about the place. From here the warrior decided it was best he go on to the sewer, perhaps cutting into the catacombs of the locals if he could find an entrance. Walking by looking for a grate or manhole he was pleasantly surprised to look into a room which seemed to be something of an armoury. Oleksandr stepped in, smashing his ammo-starved weapons before overloading their batteries so that they wouldn’t fall into enemy hands for research and development so easily. With that he grabbed a nice assortment of weapons from the cache. They were ballistics that wouldn’t stand up to the lasers he had just discarded, but they would suffice and more importantly they had ammo in abundance.

With that Kjaro went on, passing by a doorway into the sight of a man with a clipboard. He was open-mouthed, and didn’t utter a word before Kjaro pounced upon him. He was about to sink his razor nails into his throat, until noticing the red-cross armband he had. Oleksandr looked up, realizing this was the prisoner holding cell of the police station. The bars were cut away, and wounded were stored here. Every single man looked at him in fear, the different states of their injuries leaving them nevertheless at Kjaro’s mercy. “Please….” the doctor below Kjaro begged. “Please I’m just a doctor, these men are hurt. They’re not a threat! Please!” Looking into the doctor’s eyes and that of the men, Oleksandr didn’t know what to do. He stood up, raising his pistol and cycling his aim between the many targets he found present. The medic stood up himself and raised both hands placatingly. “Please, we won’t say anything just don’t do anything!”

“Shut up!” Kjaro replied. He rubbed his forehead, walking in a circle. “Fine, fine. But tell me where the last manhole you saw is.”

“...w...what?”

“You fucking heard me!”

Kjaro’s voice was amplified to the point of causing physical pain, but it got urgency across.

“Outside! The room, I mean. Walk out and take the first turn left; there should be one I think.”

The Captain ran out and did as instructed, glad to find the man was right. He removed the cover of the manhole, and closing it behind himself went home. It was a straight line that he went through with speed, emerging with his family’s home in his vision. There was gunfire everywhere, soldiers from both sides everywhere in his vision.

“Sveta!” Oleksandr cried out, hoping his wife would reply. He got none, but he noticed a federation soldier going by the building’s balcony and firing inside. The thought this man might be at this very moment hitting a member of his family was perhaps the beginning of now Sergeant Kjaro’s mania. Quite literally he saw red, his cybernetic ocular overlay glitching with the imbalance of chemicals flowing through his brain as an unimaginable state of rage came over him. He ran forward ignoring all the shooting coming at him only stopping to grab a Federation soldier by the neck and biting his eyes out so he wouldn’t fire his rocket launcher. The cry of pain soothed Oleksandr, but only barely. He ascended the steps to the building, smashing through the door to a scene that engrained itself in his memory to this very day. Helga holding little Stepan on the ground, whilst Jaako tried to protect them with their body and Karina lying wounded by his feet. “They’re just fucking robots.” A soldier said, and emptied a magazine upon the children of the Kjaro family. Oleksandr was dazed, and he had only one possible reaction: violence. He was a blur of movement, but with his bare hands the Captain turned each damned Fed into red mush. The perpetrators of the crime were dead, and for now that would be enough; Svetlana could still be alive. “Sveta!” he roared again, checking every part of the building for her. In a small destroyed section, he found her, or at least what was left. Her head, and the upper right part of her torso was all that he could find. The wetware records of Oleksandr Mikolaevich Kjaro showed that this was the first time in his life that he cried, but it was a cry like no others. “What have they done to you?” he said to nobody in particular, laughing blissfully as her eyes opened upon the words being said. “Sveta?” he asked, the beginnings of a smile coming upon him.

“I knew I would see you one last time.” Svetlana said, returning Oleksandr’s smile.

“No, no, I’ll get you out let me just check the scanner I’ll-”

“No, Oleksei. You won’t.” She coughed, a mixture of blood and hydraulic fluid coming out.

“They’re dead, aren’t they. I heard what happened. Don’t lie to me.”

“Yes. Yes the Fed bastards shot them.”

“I see. Then my fight was for nothing.”

“No! No, it wasn’t, please, hold on!”

“It’s too late my love. Remember us, please.”

“I will.” Again Svetlana coughed, her eyes dimming.

“Go, Knight of honour, go Knight of faith. Show them your valour, bring them their fates.”

Svetlana’s eyes closed, and that was the end of her life. Oleksandr simply remained where he was for about an hour, not caring for the fighting happening around him and he was unphased when the building collapsed with its rubble burying him. The shooting had subsided, and Kjaro got himself out of the rubble. With a thoughtful expression he went back through the sewers, again emerging in the police station turned Fed barracks. He went inside the makeshift hospital, blocking it off with a few large crates he grabbed on the way there. All present recognized the Captain, the Doctor standing up from a seat he was taking.

"We didn't tell anyone anything I swear!" He managed before Kjaro grabbed his mouth, shushing him into silence.

"I have only a single question for you. Are Neohumans, for your people, machines? Robots?"

“There’s… there’s many different opinions you can’t just reduce-”

“It’s a yes or no question.”

“...Yes.”

Go Knight of Honour, go Knight of Faith.

“Good.”

Show them your valour, bring them their fates.

In a flash the Captain pulled out one of the Doctor’s ribs, and turned him over to cover his mouth so the screams of pain would be stifled.

“Now I won’t have any remorse.” He ran the rib like a blade down the length of the doctor’s back, then pulled off his skin in one great tug. Kjaro laughed, spinning the skin in a circle like a gymnast a rope. He went over to one of the injured men, placing his hands in the folds of the dead doctor’s face and doing a poor mimicry of his speech.

“I say, you seem to be afraid of your dear old medic. I think some sort of pathogen is in you, I see you’re having trouble breathing!” This was a very short foreshadowing for the skin being used to strangle the injured soldier. A similar act was repeated with the skinless body of the medic, and after that a series of brutal murders proceeded by the end of which the room was quite literally an abattoir. The Captain didn’t return to the CCN lines after this, staying deep in occupied territory leading one man terror campaign, such gruesome slaughter being his distinctive trait that gained him the moniker “Butcher”. When the war was over he finally came back to his comrades, and he was demoted to Lieutenant before promptly being returned to Captain once the full extent of his actions was discovered. It was done tentatively, but accounting for the tragedy he experienced high command was somewhat sympathetic. But in the century to come many battlefields would be scarred by the Butcher, Zion being on particular case, his actions of shoving live humans into meatgrinders for slow, painful deaths giving his name renown across all Eden quite quickly. As the Captain’s madness spiralled his actions became such that even the Councils became disgusted, demoting him to Lieutenant and more recently to Sergeant. Thus, one arrives at the modern day.

---

Now

---

“Bloody hell.”

“Yeah, I told you so. There were about two-hundred trillion cells in the bodies of my family. For every cell must die a single Fed or other bastard. It is my life mission.”

Viktor Tarau opened a link to one of the international wikis, instantly finding “The Butcher” for a quick summary of more gruesome events.

“Bloody hell.” he repeated.

“Yeah.”

“The only have little bits of you recorded, how did she know it’s you?”

The Sergeant shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s a psychic, probably something to do with that.”

Indeed, being a psychic had something to do with it. The woman had not gone to her quarters, instead just enough distance so with her powers she could still hear them but they wouldn’t know of her ethereal presence. She couldn’t so simply let all the Sergeant said just be. She sprinted past the two Legionnaires guarding the way to the command centre, coming face to face with the Captain and the Sergeant.

“You’re a fucking madman. You’re obsessed, that shit was a century ago and you’re still murdering all that time after, people unrelated to what happened to you! Do you really think your kids would be happy to know their father ran across Eden killing random people because he’s insane?”

Until the last sentence, Kjaro was apparently calm. But when the girl spoke of his children’s thoughts and wishes he roared standing from his chair, or at least trying to. At the last moment Viktor grabbed his leg to force a fall and yelled to Alyx: “Go, go to your quarters!” Then he leaned in to whisper to the Sergeant. “She’s not wrong.” and gave the man a kick before going to speak to the young psychic.

The Captain stepped in, noting the currently unfurnished nature of the room. The woman was cross legged on her bed, head in hands. “Recruit.” Viktor said, taking a seat on a chair in the room’s small study.

“I’m surprised to see you here. I would have thought they’d do training and integration longer.”

“We did it, but they had… well, they said my situation was unique, rarely are psychic migrants found they said. They told me I’d be better off with familiar faces to help me get used to it, and that my powers were best suited for conflicts anyway. I’ll have an easier time getting eased into the Noosphere with less people at the same time.”

“I see.”

“Oh, do you?” she said, rather sarcastically.

Viktor shrugged. “No, not really. I was born into the councils, my life was so easy I got bored of it and went to become a Reislaufer just to find hardship for the first time in my life. But I said that I see because I thought it might make you feel better, instead you’re being smarmy.”

“Oh please you think I’m going to respond well to being called smarmy just after you told me how great your life is?”

“Yes. Ad Hominems, and all.”

“Shut up.”

“No, I don’t think I will. I only got you into the CCN because I wanted to save my own life. But now you’re my responsibility and I have to make sure all is well with you. So, tell me all your troubles, I can listen to another sob-story after hearing out the Sergeant.”

“Alright, alright yeah I’ll tell you. I was forced out of my previous life which was horrible, but you know what? It was mine, this new life isn’t mine, I belong to the CCN now. Everyone I knew is dead, and I’m a toy of the people who did that. You want me to say thank you? No, of course you don’t you’ll have some little clever answer. My brain, it’s tuned into this damned Noosphere of your’s, everyone feels what I feel and I feel what everyone feels. This is supposed to make me closer to everyone, right? Fat chance, everyone here looks at me like trash; your damn Sergeant tried to cut me in half. I even… I can't....”
Viktor was about to ask her what it was she couldn’t do anymore, but looking at her face he could tell what she was trying to say right away. For her new bionic eyes they had to remove her tear ducts — She could no longer cry.

“Oh.” was all that he could reply.

“All that was me before, it’s gone. I just have my memories, and apparently I’m supposed to count my blessings because I was let keep those. You’re people, Captain, those Federation soldiers the Sergeant mentioned were wrong. But you’re different, too different, you’re certainly not good humans.”

“I’m sorry.” was all Viktor could offer. Alyx couldn’t cry, but she came the closest one could without tear ducts. Perhaps it was wrong what they did to her. She wasn’t even old enough to drink in much of Eden, she was just a girl, they should have just let her work for the CCN as an auxiliary and let her make the choice to become Neohuman down the line. But they couldn’t remove the cybernetics and gene treatments, it was too late now.

“I had a piercing in my stomach, like all the girls pretending to be different back in Uracao did. They didn’t even let me keep that.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow. Usually people going into processing were let keep their jewellery. He checked the roster of his crew to find Alyx Fuentes, and then opened her file. He couldn’t help but start laughing.

“What’s so funny?” she demanded, visibly hurt at the laughter.

“I’m sorry it’s just that, well, the reason they took your piercing was that they thought it was a wound that went left untreated because of the backwardness of frontier medicine.”

Slowly, she smiled and then even giggled. Viktor was glad, moving over to sit on the girl’s bed with her and giving her a sympathetic (if not quite empathetic) embrace. Maybe you’re right, maybe the soldiers were. Maybe we’re not quite humans or even people. But that can change.

TL;DR

The Sergeant gives his origin story, the Varangian gets an interesting new crewmember and then heads off to hunt some pirates.

Welcome to Ashton: A Modern Town RP

Can I do a homeless dude

[1v1][T1] Anyone want to beat on/humiliate a cute girl?

A year old but still hilarious

Eden(Small-scale Space NRP)

The CCN

Music



Shortly after the battle of Uracao

The Captain and the Sergeant were walking down the hall, one just too long to be considered efficient by the cold mentality of Neohumans. But it was a very old one, a place made by a now unsupported version of Neohumanity. It was lined with hundreds of the National Guard, the air around the blades of their lashalberds distorted by the superheating of the blades and shimmering by the power fields surrounding them.

"So you think it's something serious?"

"Wouldn't have called us all the way here if it wasn't."

"Right. Any idea what for?"

"Nope." the words were followed by the Sergeant launching a globe of spit on the ground, prompting the Guards to bring their halberds to Kjaro's throat. "Bloody hell calm down the bots will clean it!" he exclaimed, raising his hands. After a tense moment, the soldiers backed off.

"I take it you haven't been back home for an extended period in a while."

"Nope. Soldier's life for me."

"I can tell."

"Heh."

They reached the grand gate, which after a few seconds of the two men being scanned was opened. A man sat in a chair, a blazing cigarette in one hand as he stared at the sun of the Sol system. "Captain Tarau, how good of you to come!" the figure said, without a hint of irony given he was ordered to do so.

"...oh, and Oleksandr Kjaro. Captain Tarau's aide I take it mmmyes, what rank are you at now?"

"Sergeant, Sah!" Kjaro exclaimed, slamming a fist on his breast in salute. Victor couldn't tell if it was all a sarcastic display or a legitimate attempt to get in the good graces of

"Yes, indeed, very good. Well I'll get to it I suppose, I didn't prepare any mind games for you so I won't waste time trying to improvise. Events have lined up, such that I shall be leading a flagship to the frontier. They say I've gotten too invested in the theoreticals of war. Too cushioned in the home system."

"I can see that." the Sergeant said, giggling at the more suit than uniform attire of the man sitting in the chair, Admiral Andrej Kessler.

"Your concern is duly noted Sergeant.

“Regardless, other things have been happening in Eden my comrades. Duro has been invaded by Orleans, and the attention of the cluster’s media is upon it. There are many experimental weapons we have to test, and the frontier has a system ripe for the taking — the Nyrene star. The worlds have an untapped source of natural resources, and a grand population for us to utilize. Most interesting perhaps, is the apparent fact the locals have the use of some old-Earth terraforming and gravitational technology, allowing their massive planets with previously vile environments to become paradises far, far faster than even we could do with our Neohuman nature. Oh, and there’s certain… interlopers that have to be punished.”

Both the Sergeant and the Captain understood what the last bit meant, Oleksandr in particular grinning upon hearing this. Victor was less enthusiastic, screens of information rolling through his vision.

“What can we expect from this world.”

“Not too much. It’s a frontier world. Good infrastructure and communications, our biggest threat. Their arms and armour are just up to par for the frontier. There's also a species native to the system, the Nyrene. They're all psychics, though few of them are of any power, in fact a smaller fraction than in humans. Amassed though they have some potential. Attunement with the planet and all, along with each other, some similarity with the Aelon. They are to be deleted." one hologram flashed into existence, and then another.

"Understood. Intelligence?"

"Extensive work has been done by the infiltrators. Piracy and corruption are rife, there is little confidence in the president. Seeds of racial tension have been planted, locations of military installations and places of governance will he relayed to you. The homes of most of the Nyrene xenos have been found. It seems PDF, police, gendarmes, army, and other local defence personnel will outnumber ours more than six hundred to one. But if all goes to plan, a mere percent of that force will mobilize and only a percent of that mobilized force will get to combat before being ordered to stand down. Agents are ready to troll, disrupt and sway any interstellar social media on our favour. Its a very clear and positive picture."

"Understood. Post Operations?"

"Until the Uskoks arrive you will have to do their work. We expect some initial riots, protests. The chaos will be a good opportunity to rid ourselves of journalists and such. Of course we'll have to cover what the outdated will find 'objectionable'. Of course we'll have to feign an exit from the system, lie in wait for our little friends."

"Thank you Admiral. What shall you be bringing?"

"A cube. A very large one. Many cones too, get their defences done with quickly and silently. Some cylinders will come along should resistance be truly heroic. A Reislaufer Legion in its entirety will land, with another one in reserve. I will trust you to lead planetside operations of course, I hope I shan't have to intervene."

"Worry not, Admiral. I was given a more than acceptable rating for my first Captaincy, I will only be better in the next."

"Yes, of course." Kessler said, looking to Kjaro. "Very well, we depart in nineteen hours."

A salute was exchanged, and the duo marched off to their vessel.

---

Some time later.

---

Out of the jump gate the fleet exited. First came the cones, gently sailing through the void across the system. Their stealth systems activated to let them happily get into position, timed perfectly with the arrival of The Varangian and Kessler's ship Sikorski. As they drifted to Nyrene Terius, the cylinders followed already spinning in preparation of combat. The cones instantly unleashed drone swarms to attack the system monitors and localized defences. Nobody was killed, in fact, but ships had scanners, engines and comms sundered by little flying machines, whilst weapons had smaller drones fly inside them so that any attempt to blindly fire would be only catastrophic for only those doing the firing. A few more advanced vessels had their crews or at the very least Captains paid off, and one foreign trade ship had a great net fired at it. For a day or so it wouldn't be functional, and when it was cut off it would be too late to learn anything of the events that happened. But of course, for its trouble it would receive suitable restitution!

The two main vessels of the CCN came into orbit, and they tested their first experimental. Drop pods were novel to the Confederation, but upon seeing other armed forces use them it became obvious just how useful they were. Troop landers that carried very few men and couldn't get back to surface, but reached the ground so fast there was little warning of them, and little chance to shoot them down. They hit the ground in key areas. Every single generator and power grid controller, magrails, defence installations, comm towers, local house of governance and armouries all got at least one drop pod.

Giants emerged from them, nearly two and a half metre tall vessels of perfection armed with weapons the locals couldn't fathom. One power grid control centre had a guard raise a rifle, but was promptly frozen with a cryocannon. Quick firefights erupted at the armouries, but only a token resistance was put up with arc rifles swiftly subduing the security of them. The batteries had actual soldiers manning them, and proved harder. Lasers bullets and grenades zinged, and as the battles dragged on long enough to arouse the attention of more people - particularly those with guns - radcannons were made us of, their brutality a rarely reserved thing that in this rare case was quickly let loose despite all attempts to use more traditional weapons first.

With that done sleeper cells were activated, social media inflamed, and a good start on people's hearts and minds was made. All was carefully orchestrated to make this seem like an intervention against a corrupt government that was harbouring pirates – yes, pirates!

Victor himself landed in a drop-pod shortly after in the parliament, with Sergeant Kjaro landing in the district of embassies with several platoons. The Sergeant's men fanned out, quickly announcing martial law. Large devices were placed in the streets that initially looked like boxes but unfolded to be some sort of antennae?

"Everyone inside! You have thirty seconds to comply!"

"What? What the fu-... Hey get your hands off of me, do you know who I am?"

"Scanners indicate your name is John Hurley. Impertinent. You have nineteen seconds to comply, please enter the grounds of one of the embassies."

"You have no right to do this shit you hear me?"

"Ten."

"Listen to me you piece of shit I paid good money to visit and… Why are you covering your face hey loo-... W… AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

The men exclaimed, clutching his head as the device finished unfolding and let out a vile sound, fluctuating between the highest and the lowest pitches possible for it to produce at a volume that clearly hurt the man. His eyeballs, blood vessels, and organs all ruptured as one before he collapsed, ichor sprayed on the Reislaufer shielding his visor from the liquid.

Victor entered the parliamentary Palace with but six Legionnaires at either side, all in armour dressed to look fabulous as if on parade, but just as good in combat. One of the security personnel tried to radio in, the other to shoot. Both fell with a smoking crater in their chest before they could touch a tool of trade. A guard inside that witnessed what happened dropped to his knees, to which he was told "Rise. Report anyone coming here from outside across your internal system."

And thus, very boldly the thirteen Neohumans strode into parliament. Every single Nyreeni was gunned down, along with the guards that reached for their weapons and the President.

"Does anybody have a problem with what just happened?" Demanded a Legionnaire. A few people rose or raised their hands, and they were gunned down too. The speaker jumped on the table of the dead president, spreading his arms wide majestically. He was about to make a great statement, but under his weight the table collapsed and he fell arse first. Neohumans were cold beings half machine, but each of them present burst out laughing save for Captain Tarau who hushed them into silence. He kicked the president off of his chair and after making sure it could hold his weight, he sat down on it with legs crossed comfortably.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. I'm a soldier and an orator - the union of which makes me a commander - but I am not too much of a politician. It is therefore an excellent thing I have orders from someone with such an education. Your world now works for the interests of the Councillary Confederation of Neohumanity. Your world will become noticeably more efficient, you will receive resources, data, and technology from the CCN. You will be independent, of course! Your own pockets will be further lined, even if you happen to be a person of the sort with no care for your underlings. You will amend your constitution to be of interest to us, we will be a… protected group, let us call it. Your monitors should display the full extent of what you agree to. Any questions?"

The members of parliament all looked at their screens, reading carefully. About an hour passed until one raised his voice.

"The Nyreeni died to a disease brought from a vessel, possibly from the CCN? I'm a pragmatic man I can regurgitate the bullshit to save some hides but you're just killing all these people? That's… T-that's fucking madness! You can't stand for this I-" a Legionnaire's laser bolt brought an end to the speaker.

Victor shuddered and winced, wholly new thoughts coming across him. "Sign this, then gather with me, a recording for Eden's media will be made. Oh don't look so glum, you'll be pocketing money from new paymasters, but the same amount. More actually, so that you don't have to take it from your people!" The parliamentarians did as told, signing and then standing photogenically by the Neohumans. Even though a few steps higher, they were still noticeably shorter than the Confederates.

A drone flew inside the parliament, its camera focusing upon Victor. He looked like a God, and with the perfection both physical and aesthetic so visible in him he may as well have been. Perfect unblemished skin, sculpted features, alert eyes, a warm smile, welcoming dark brown eyes contrasting with his pale Northerner skin, green laurels with a faint golden sheen rested upon his black hair.

"I greet you dear viewer. No doubt you have by now heard of irregularities coming from the Nyrene star, so I will do my best to explain what happened. The worlds of this system have been long partners of the Councillary Confederation of Neohumanity, our trade vessels being one of the first to make contact upon locals establishing a jump gate. We eagerly welcomed them into the international community but it seemed good news wasn't the only thing to come of Nyrene's entry to greater Eden. The system became a hot spot of pirate activity and other criminality, but corruption insured that nothing was done in the long term to combat it. Recently this reached a critical point. The officials of Nyrene invited a Reislaufer Legion to intervene, and oust President Reynolds from his post lest he make Nyrene a pirate state. A contract was made with a Reislaufer Legion, who dealt very quickly with the bought and paid for forces of the late President. At the time of our arrival - perhaps from our vessels - a viral infection spread. It does nothing more than elicit a cough in humans but in the Nyreeni natives it provoked a fatal reaction. It spread like wildfire before our Scientific Corps could react. The disease will be analyzed, and a research paper published on it for Eden at large to review free of charge so such events would not repeat. Peace has been restored to Nyrene, and prosperity will follow. Without the threat of piraxy it is predicted Nyrene productivity will go up fifty-two percent and growth of GDP will rise to eleven percent; a new market and trade partner for all of Eden to bask in. We will now be receiving questions, thank you."

In truth there would be no questions, at least not any real ones. All the journalists that could not be paid off were rounded up and thrown in an excavated pit that was promptly filled up. In case the mass grave was found, there was much evidence prepared that it was the work of President Reynolds disposing of those investigating into his corruption. Questions prepared beforehand were asked, most to the affirmative. Some special ones meant to criticize or agitate the Captain were asked but he had answers prepared to further justify his actions. Nyrene was now another part of the little Neohuman Empire.

---

Weeks later

---

It was boring. For people functionally immortal cryosleep was a nonsense, and so the wait for Interlopers was long, and made even longer for those who process things far faster than homo sapiens. Exercise and military drills were had, conversations were made and culture was taken part in. Now before the Captain and the Sergeant some of the staff were having a song and dance. It might seem alien to foreign observers to see this contrast. Here were cybernetic giants, the skin of many a porcelain-like plastic, their eyes glowing unnaturally and their movements… off; perfect but unnatural. Yet here they were with traditional sewn outfits, wreaths of flowers upon hair real and synthetic of the women, shining but rough brown leather shoes of men, all whilst several cheery fellows were playing ancient instruments faster than the eye could track. Yet to Victor and even Oleksandr it was a moment inspiring nostalgia and homesickness. One of the girls reminded Kjaro of his long lost daughter.

"You seem off, Captain."

"I was about to say the same."

"You first, Captain. I asked first, didn't I."

A silence.

"Everything is different now that I'm Captain, Sergeant. Before when I killed I was just following orders. Now that I'm a Captain I'm issuing them. Yes, yes, I get them from the admiral and as Sergeant and Lieutenant and all the ranks in between I both gave and received but it's different now, I have my own ship. Now all those men that died by my hand, all those aliens, they… They don't sit right with me."

"You're a little bitch Captain."

"Fuck off. Don't ask if you don't want to know."

Another silence.

"You told me before Uracao you would tell me why you hate the outdateds so much. Hoe is it you find killing them so easy? They're people, but you swing your axes like sweeping a broom."

The Sergeant groaned. "Alright. I wasn't just at the Zionist police action."

"Oh?"

"Your scans of my cybernoosphere won't show it, but I was there in the war with the Federation."

"What? What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said."

"Wait then-..." A klaxon cut off the Captain.

A sardonic giggle came from Kjaro. "Maybe next time, Captain." he said, slapping Victor on the back before turning in his seat. The image of the Admiral appeared onscreen, the man in full regalia. "An unmarked ship has entered the system. The cone scanner formation indicates that the cargo it is accounting for does not match the size of the vessel. Intercept it."

"Understood."

The Varangian moved in close to the unmarked vessel, which identified as Columbus.

"Columbus, you will have an escort. There is pirate activity noted in system."

"Negative Varangian, I think we can make it on our own."

"For your own security Captain."

"Thank you all the same, but we won't need it." As the words were said the Captain of the ship started turning his vessel ever so slightly, knowing he had much maneuverability upon most CCN ships. If he was trying to prepare for a getaway it wouldn't help him.

"Columbus, you will be escorted."

Thirteen cones deactivated their stealth systems, in perfect formation surrounding the so called trade vessel. It made it to Nyrene's dry docks, at which point it was promptly boarded.

A concierge of sorts was waiting for the arriving troops, the fellow starting to say something about all the vessel's clearances and certifications, and commitments to lawfulness. He only got out half a sentence before getting a Legionnaire's stock to the face.

Reislaufers and drones fanned out, subduing all crew members and scanning hulls. There were the accounted for consumers goods - mostly electronics - but after a few walls were breached the jackpot was found. Crates full of rifles and munitions. Packages of propaganda leaflets, armour, even a few vehicles and stealth suits. Some of these hidden compartments even had men in uniform, more of the same beret wearing bastards Victor saw on Uracao. A few raised their weapons, but arc-rifles got them to drop before they could do any harm. The arcs were set on low power, because these men were needed alive. They were loaded into landers brought down to Nyrene, a specialized pavilion constructed just for this event. Every man was blindfolded and gagged, before being made to kneel in front of a cement block and having their blindfolds taken off. It was a place of execution, every man felt it as a drone flew over to to place weights on their arms and legs. The drone that recorded the Captain the day before flew onto the site, and focused on Admiral Kessler. A naval uniform was upon him, glowing blue eyes contrasting with the black and red of his attire. He was like an older, more grim variant of Victor to the camera having the same perfection of function and form yet also he bore a more mature, authoritarian look.

“Good afternoon, Edenites. I bear bad news. In the Nyrene system the brave efforts of the Councillary Confederation have gone well. The system already has noticed peace and improvements, corruption long a thing of the past. But not all could deal with this new status quo. Forces of violence and hatred reside in this star cluster, and they could not bear to see the success and bright future that is in store for Nyrene. These men are pirates, complicit in the suffering of Nyrene who have long escaped justice. But we were prepared for this villainy. Today, heavy transports entered the system carrying tools of violence and men ready to insure they are used. They were apprehended, and they will be punished before your eyes.”

The drone turned to the first victim, the lens focussing on a man beside which Sergeant Kjaro was standing with a chain-blade. “Each man will have ten seconds for last words.” he announced, before taking off the gag. It was the perfect amount of time for even the cheapest civilian facial recognition software to confirm the identity of a man, with he help of their full name that the Sergeant would helpfully provide.

“Ensign Frederick Stutzer.”

“Oh god, please no! Wait! Please I have a family fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck wait don’t I’ll do anythi-NOOOOOOO” he was drowned out by the sound of the motorized blade revving, the implement brought down upon his face until nothing was left of it.

“Petty Officer Phillip Grey.”

“...Sweetheart I love you so much, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Tell the kids I love them.”

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVFFFSSSSSSSSSSKHHHHHHHHHHHHH

“Lieutenant Marie Chretienne.”

“Elizabeth, souviens-toi de moi! Souviens-toi de moi! Prenez soin de vous!”

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVSSSSSSSKHHHHHHHKHHHHHH

This went on for many hours until every single man had met his fate. The Sergeant had begun this business in nothing but trousers, but he was now clothed in red. Dripping, he walked over to the Admiral.

“It is done, Sir.”

“Good. What of the Captain?”

“A little soft, Admiral. He said he didn't want to see this, and had better things to do back on the Varangian.”

“I see. Very well.” He snapped his fingers, and the drone flew over to Kessler.

“These men received their just fate, but we shan’t bring undue suffering to their families. Anyone who wishes to reclaim their bodies may send a letter to any embassy of the Councilary Confederation. We shall process the request in no more than six days, and return the fallen in no more than twenty. Instructions to apply for a claim can be found at the sites of our embassies. I bid you farewell. Legion Eternal, Eternally Victorious.”

Summary

Using international attention on Duro, the CCN invaded Nyrene. The world was made a tributary, and the Confederate forces lay in wait for the forces of democracy to try and raise a proxy there. They apprehended a ship carrying weapons and soldiers, and given their de jure state as pirates executed them in entirety with the hopes of forcing governments to relax their proxy warfare with the CCN.

Megacorps - Drawbacks & Economics. (A hopefully CIVIL discussion thread)

>makes a thread he won't be participating in
Lol

[Storms and Shadows] - A Black Crusade inspired 40k Chaos RP.

Is this dead? :(