Recent Statuses

1 yr ago
Current OooooooOooOOOOooooooOOOOOooOoooooooOOooOOOOoooOo
2 yrs ago
V.1.26 (House of Caecilius Iucundus); 4091: Whoever loves, let him flourish. Let him perish who knows not love. Let him perish twice over whoever forbids love.
3 yrs ago
Hello and good tidings to thee! What brings you to this line of text?
1 like
3 yrs ago
People of Jewusalem! Wome is your fwiend!
4 yrs ago
dun dun dun du-dun dun da-dun dun dun du-du-du-dun


User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts

Game died weeks ago. Sorry my dude.
It's in the first post, near the midway point. It'll be marked in yellow-orange-ish.
Indeed it is. Come hop on the discord.
Still very active, but mainly in the discord. Come join us!
When word of the Jane-ship crashing on Zpithi’s surface was broadcast to the world, very few had predicted that such a thing would happen again. Thus, it was quite the curiosity to the autonomous collective of Longobardia when the drones looked up at the sky only to see there but another ball of fire descending rapidly towards the earth. The mayor downloaded the procedure taken by designation Marina and issued the command to not one, but three drones to investigate. It was most efficient that the collective take initiative now, instead of waiting for the ship to crash before going out to investigate. Who knows how many flesh systems could fail in the interim time.

Designation Marina had been alone, or so the records show, when the Jane-ship had landed. It was rather fortunate, for this ship, that they were descending over a collective. Any further out and the drones would have to traverse many kilometers of agricultural land to find it. Better still, while Morea was on the entire other end of the planet, across multiple continents, Longobardia and Ragusa are just about within a hundred kilometers distance. At the pace the drones can walk, it may take only four days to bring any salvaged technology or flesh people directly to Prime Mind.

The three drones, granted the interim designations of Doilea, Treilea, and Patrulea, set out in the predicted pattern of the ship’s descent. As they rounded a hill, they could watch it crash headlong into the mud in the valley, kicking up black semisolid chunks in its wake. The fires leapt, sputtered, and died following its comprehensive smothering by the ground. It was only well that this land was not yet developed, and incredibly wet, else a fire might have erupted in the crops, significantly lowering their energy yield.

The drones chattered with each other over interface, running through plans and procedures they had made up on the journey. As they approached, they could hear the sounds of commotion within, banging and faint audio vibrations. The Jane-ship was completely quiet until Marina had forced the door open. This was highly irregular indeed, for a flesh creature to be active immediately after a crash of such force. Eventually, after weighing up the options, Doilea approached what appeared to be a door and knocked on it. The clanging of metal on metal was certainly loud enough to be heard within, at least, that is what they predicted.

“We are the humans of Noriscovo,” Doilea said, broadcasting in English as loud as its audio projection device allowed. “Are you able to detect noise? Respond to any noise or vibration you may detect.”

Eir froze for a moment as the sudden metal-on-metal clanging and voices rang out from the other side of the shuttle’s scorched hull. Combat instincts kicked in, with the Valkyrian drawing her knife and looking to her left at the dented but solid metal shuttle exit door. At first the surprise English was something to behold, as she did understand it, though she herself had just been talking in the Valkyrian tongue ultimately. More than that...this was stranger than it should have been. Humans out this far would have built a gate, right? Nor would they be sounding so robotic, perhaps go so far as to call themselves ‘humans’ on purpose, or make such a metal clang when rapping their hand against a hull unless they came from ‘those’ assholes. But this was entirely uncharted, non-gateway territory!

“...Commander, is that-?”

“Sergeant Seres, get this door open on the double! In the meantime I will try to communicate with these...whatever these are. They speak human English, at least...but be ready. But I need backup in case the situation goes south.”

“Roger!” the queen Antean noted aloud, before assumedly turning her head to bark back at the others, her voice fainter to the Commander’s ears as Seres spoke again, “We have a Class II New Contact Situation! Cleo, Denmar, help me with this! Holt see if you can hotwire this thing with what’s left of the shuttle! We have to get this damned door open right now to get to the Commander!”

The Commander let a small, subtle grin come to her face as the sound of creaking metal and attempts to get the door open came to her ears. Seres was her right hand for a reason, and worked hard to get here, even after all these years in military service. In the meantime, however, she needed to keep the ‘natives’ they had come across busy. The lack of standard sentient life signs was troublesome enough, so something like robotics felt more plausible in this situation already...but as for what kind, that was to be determined.

Eir cautiously approached the warped shuttle exit door, then, with her Umbhite knife in hand before stopping in place where she was close enough to speak back to the new presences just outside of the crashed shuttle.

“This is Commander Eir Vilkross of the Military Shuttle Valkyrie, officer of the Imperial Dominion of Ankhan! We have no records of a ‘Noriscovo’, nor of any of the human arks landing in this non-gated area of the Cluster! Please identify yourself, or selves, immediately!” the Valkyrian shouted back in English, taking up a ready and cautious stance ‘just in case’.

Another mention of gates. Treilea and Patrulea were arguing about what such an object was. Doilea, instead of participating, listened in with its audio recorder. There was more than one voice within. There were multiple, intermixing with each other. They were conversing, or talking over each other. Multiple bodies, both living and active, were within. Doilea made a note of this. Either the beings present within were not humans, or were incredibly resilient humans, far more than those on the Jane-ship.

“I am under the designation of Doilea, working in conjunction with designations Treilea and Patrulea. We mean you no harm. If you are unable to open the outer door, we shall on your behalf. Are there humans present within your vessel?” Doilea asked.

These really were machines, who seemed...oddly interested in humans to boot. They were also being rather forward at that, though being robots it wasn’t as surprising to the Valkyrian at least. Under whose...or what’s...orders they were here, and what the situation with this world was, she had no idea. This was a strenuous enough situation as it could be, given the crash landing and unknown nature of this planet.

“...Two humans, currently, both part of my crew. Go ahead and pry open the outer door, though, the handle has already been bent up on our end anyways. But I would caution you to keep your distance for a moment once you open the door.”

It would be a chance to see what these machines were able to do....and buy a moment, perhaps, for her remaining crew to get the blast door open. Even now, though, she could hear the blast door budging bit by bit as her remaining crew tried to force it open. The sound of crackling electricity could also be heard, maybe from Holt trying something? Not really the time to think about it now, she supposed. She had to keep point here as the rest of her crew did their work.

“Sergeant, keep pulling! Between that and this, we have just enough residual from the auxiliary engine I think I can...just...barely...hmm...aha!”

The voice of the human man was a welcome sound, even more so as the blast door finally screeched open without warning. The sudden metal on metal sound aside, Eir felt a small wave of relief as the sound of rushing feet, heavy breathing, and hastily slapped-on equipment came out from the opened blast doorway behind her. Finally, her crew was here! Or at least what crew was left after the crash anywho…

Glancing to her left, the Valkyrian first noted the presence of her Umbhite rifle-wielding Sergeant. Seres. The Queen Antean stood at about the third tallest in the group, her wing-accommodating-combat-armor-donned humanoid-like carapace and smiling face seeming the least scratched up of the lot by far. Seres’ type of Antean was rare, admittedly, and usually kept out of service due to the value she had to her species’ survival even now….though Queen Anteans were tough as nails naturally when it came down to it. Indeed Seres had been such herself as well, and had fought and worked her way to get this far past all the barriers, and had even proven Eir herself wrong as far back as basic training. By the first Empress, the two had been so very close since basic training even, though Eir herself had been a lower-ranking officer at first at the time. Of course others in her crew had often joked in private about ‘how close’ Eir and Seres were behind closed doors.

Then next to Seres was the grin of one Private Holt, a six foot three inch tall human man who had always stood as second tallest among them all. Darker skinned, shaved head, and working like all hell to become a splendid engineer, he had been the right hand to the now-deceased Sergeant Barton. Made her think Barton knew what was going to happen in the first place, and made the private hop over to the cabin before impact...but enough thinking on the deaths for the moment. There was no time to linger, and memories of the dead could be had later on. Regardless, Holt was a man of many words, sharing drinks, and generally good spirit even in the roughest situations...and that she was glad for. Though it was also obvious he’d tied some cloth torn from his uniform to patch a wound on his left side, along with the other obvious bumps and bruises.

Then glancing to her right, Eir first noted the visage of Private Cleopatra. The black-haired, jackal-like female with a human-style name stood some with scratches and bumps and bruises as well, though her emerald-colored eyes seemed to only look back at her with a level of sober determination. Not a single grin was on her face as she held her Umbhite laser rifle, but such was also not surprising considering who she was. Serious and stoic, Cleopatra also had a softer and gentler side that had only come out some time after being assigned to Eir’s own group. Someone who would toss herself in front of a bullet for a comrade without hesitation, dedicated to her duties and loyalty to Eir herself to a fault, and yet when she opened up it was like she was a different person under it all. Though being the last child alive in her family, she had been coddled much...but also been through much more once her parents had died in her youth from disease. A hard worker, she was, but not without heart. Also a highly apt field medic, if Eir had to note another of the female Ka’thir’s talents.

Then finally, next to Cleopatra, the Commander could see the visage of the Umbhite pistol-toting Private Denmar. Another human male that had been assigned to her crew, and perhaps the most colorful of the lot. A street urchin on a colony world, just one of the many other worlds the Dominion was working hard to raise the economy and conditions of within their territories against the wishes of the disgusting ITC, the boy had been arrested and confined many a time for thieving and criminal activity. He’d eventually joined a traveling show, becoming an escape artist until eventually a military recruitment drive had proven too tempting with the pay and benefits. Man had been a sneaky one, a rough one, and hard to listen to orders….but also got his ass in line when she’d knocked him flat on that ass a few times in training. By now the man was a tough cookie who had things down part, however, and was very reliable on and off the field despite being both second shortest in the group and oddly the lightest drinker to boot.

“Commander! We are present and ready to support!” Seres said to Eir in Valkyrian, drawing out a small smile from the Valkyrian before the queen Antean looked forward at the hatch, “I also heard what you what are your orders?”

Eir paused for a moment.

“Stand down, but remain ready about me here. We will see what these ‘natives’ are like, and their intent and purpose here. One thing I feel is for sure, however, is that they are machines of some kind...but not from ‘that’ particular group I believe.” Eir responded in Valkyrian, before she looked back again towards the dented and warped hatch.

“This door appears thicker than one that can be found on a seeker or the Jane-ship,” Treilea said via interface, gazing at the ship. “I suspect it is suited more towards the navigation of more asteroid-dense space.

“With our combined force output . . . calculating . . . there is good probability we may remove the door,” Padrulea concurred. “I am setting a public timer.” The three drones positioned themselves before the door and grasped at where it ended. Together, they peeled the metal edifice back with a sickening screech, slowly exposing the chambers within. The air escaped the inner chambers with a faint thump, revealing the crew within.

The group is certainly of a varied nature. Certainly, there were humans, three to be exact, but they stood alongside peoples decidedly alien. Doilea stepped forward to address the five of them.

“I am currently designated ‘Doilea’. The drone to my immediate right is under the designation ‘Treilea’, and the drone to our further right is designated ‘Patrulea’,” chattered Doilea through its audio projection, pointing with a stiff finger at its fellow drones. “We were commanded, upon seeing your ship enter our atmosphere, to approach and, if necessary, assist in the preservation of your flesh systems. Are you all possessed of the ability to function with less than 6.25 liters of oxygen intake within a minute? Any greater requirement and your systems shall inevitably fail within approximately 5 hours upon coming into contact with the atmosphere of Zpithi. Furthermore, unless your stomachs are capable of processing macropolylargocellulose, which is common within our native vegetation, then our cultivated sustenance shall react in an unexpected manner with your digestive system, and your flesh energy converter will halt its functions. If you require mechanical supplementation, we are capable of providing such to accommodate.”

“...For now, we will need immediate medical treatment and proper breathing conditions for our two human crew members, though the rest of us can at least hold out a few hours in such an atmosphere as this. We have one medic-capable member on the crew as well, who can help lead the treatment of our people at a safe facility,” the Commander said cordially and formally in English, her eyes like steel as she looked back at the drones with an analyzing gaze, “As for this shuttle’s wreckage, there might be a few salvage-able breathing apparatus that can be recovered for us to use...but as for the rest of this wreck, I will request any and all salvaging operations to be overseen by myself and my remaining engineer. Those are my current requests, save that I desire to speak with whatever leader you might have...this is of high importance.”

Cleopatra silently glanced over at the commander, a slightly worried look glinting in her eyes for only a moment before looking back forward. Seres only seemed to stare forward herself with confidence, with Holt and Denmar only reacting with a light shrug or the ilk otherwise.

“Our . . . leader,” Doilea said. The question was rather confusing, to say the least. “Our leader . . . is rarely present, especially in communities such as ours. We can take you directly to them, but they are four days’ travel north-eastwards. Gather what you may. When you’re ready, alert one of us, and we may guide you to Ragusa.”

(Collab with @Crusader Lord. Look, dood! We're on the screen!)

I would like to declare my interest for this rp as well.
© 2007-2017
BBCode Cheatsheet