Commodore Robot Member

On another note, is there a physical aspect to the Aeon? I imagine energy may disrupt them a bit same with magic, but would shooting one of the little ones with a non-magic weapon actually do anything to it?

> Not 100-megaton antimatter's worth, no, just missiles that have up to 100-megaton's worth of explosive power. > > Antimatter is a powerful weapon. Of course, it wasn't exactly meant to be detonated all at once while inside a ship. > > The good thing is that even if you get a temporary breach of their shields, and pass your lasers along as much hull as possible, the chances of NOT hitting a high explosive before the shields block you out again is very low. In tight formations, a single Draconian transport being destroyed or self-destructed would probably have a temporary EMP effect on the nearest ships, and scramble sensors and the like for any ships within a medium range (relative). > > And transports are slow- if they manage to ram you, that's like getting killed by a Medic bot in Robocraft. I don't think its the ramming that people would be worried about, more the fact that a transport craft was carrying ordinance, ostensibly for use by the ground forces it carried, who had a combined yield of a thousand megatons, and that said ordinance just blew up in everybody's face. It may not be world destroying but that's a easily enough bomb for continental denial work if its Divvied up proper. On that note, considering I am a woefully lazy creature, I'm just gonna throw a "before everything blew up" time stamp on my next post because I had already typed up most of it and I'd hate to revise it to just "everybody died lol the end"

I assume that he meant a thousand megaton yield of antimatter, ergo, the same explosive force as a gigaton of tnt. not a literal gigaton of antimatter. That would be cray. Though that is still a cray amount of antimatter to have anywhere.

Zoinks Scoob, a gigaton of Antimatter? Well Shucks, looks like the entire tradehouse is gone.

###**Finnegan's Trade House** "Boss, this is starting to get ridiculous. So a second bunch showed up, then something pissed off the first bunch who started shooting again, but then they also ran off and now it feels like an entire fleet is overhead!" There was a the slightest twinge of panic coming from Iggi on the Com net as it relayed what it and the other Grund could pick up with their senses. Not that Dai'Kronna couldn't resonate with his panic, it didn't matter that he had so many combat implants and Gene-mods that strictly speaking he didn't qualify as a Cephalid, it had been a harrowing experience trying to duck past the Draconian units that had been sweeping the place. Their numbers had begun to dwindle recently and he had had far fewer close calls than in the last few minutes, new arrivals would certainly explain that though. "Alright Iggi, contact the ship and tell them to suit up the Ulaks for a full combat mission, if there are tanks out there firing then I want to be able to call in armor of our own. But seriously, I cannot stress this enough, do not be an idiot and open fire unless somebody threatens the civvies," Dai'Kronna's sigh was also subvocalized and thrown out onto the Com Net, "I will never understand how something as idiotic as a 'warrior race' ever survives to leave their own homeworld. My occupation may hinge on the application of violence, but at least we weren't as stupid as to start shooting up a place that posed no threat to us. Anyway, looks like the bossman ain't around and given recent developments I don't think he'd be able to explain things here anyway. I link back up with you back at our quarters and we'll plan our next move from there." With that surface-admiral Dai'Kronna turned and began to head back to the Bath House sections.

####**Name:** Djonn Kolthus ####**Description** [Djonn Kolthus](http://i.imgur.com/fnmAiSM.jpg) is a graying man in his mid to late forties who stands at roughly six feet and one inch. Djonn has the build of a lifelong warrior and skirmisher, highly defined yet possessing a surprising lightness to his step and precision to his motion. His flowing hair and beard ,while once a deep red, has dulled and faded and in recent years has even taken on streaks of gray. Djonn holds himself with all the grace of a broken man, hints of a once proud knight can be found in the way he stands, but there is a nagging hollowness to his actions and interactions. ####**Backstory** Djonn Kolthus is the archetypal career soldier. Hailing from a minor noble family in service of their local lord, Djonn was trained in the martial traditions since the day he could hold a sword. During his formative years Djonn received a classical education like others of his social standing and became skilled in the arts, poetry, and writing. He also became skilled in the use of the glaive and bow which soon became his signature weapons. As a second son he was not entitled to any form of inheritance and so had to seek his destiny elsewhere. Djonn would first go on to fight in the Eruben war under the banner of his lord and unbeknownst to him at the time, he had even fought alongside his future employer and commander in several battles. The war's end brought about the first major turning point in Djonn's life. His failure to protect his lord from an assassin's blade had left a black mark on his record despite an otherwise exemplary service, and he was banished by decree of the Lord's son who took his place. With no other ways of sustaining himself, Djonn became a sellsword or glaive in his case, and rather quickly crossed paths with Captain Valhoa. While not one of the original Seventy-five, Djonn was certainly one of the first additions made to the ranks of the White Guard. While initially dejected by his banishment, he found new purpose as a member of the White Guard and for nearly a decade dedicated himself once again to martial excellency. He even came to love a fellow White Guard named Lydia. For years the two were inseparable on the field and off, their fighting styles complimented each other as much as their personalities. Lydia's intense personality and fiery demeanor balancing out the soft spoken and passive Djonn as much his glaive balanced her bow in battle. They were Halcyon days for Djonn, strange for a man whose occupation put his life and that of his lover's constantly in harm's way but for Djonn he had finally found his destiny on the battlefield and with his beloved Lydia. The two were married after a year and had plans for life after they inevitably retired from service. Unfortunately for Djonn, the incursion of the greyskins and his and Lydia's assignment to Belencrest would prove to him why it is unwise to form relationships with co-workers, especially in their line of work. They had been in a border clash with a small warband of greyskins, everything was going by the book, it really was just a case of dumb luck that had led to Lydia's death and shattered Djonn's world. Battlefields are chaotic places and in the chaos of battle mistakes are made. A crossbow bolt fired from some faceless barbarian found a joint in her armor and that was that. It was not the conscious effort of some diabolical monster, there was no storybook logic to her death, simply the harsh reality of volley fire and probability. Overcome with grief Djonn once again found himself without direction, he kept on with the White Guard mostly because there was nowhere else for him to go. He had his wife's armor reforged to fit his build and took up her bow and totem in memory of her. ####**Goals/Fears** While others in his position might have taken to drink or other such vices Djonn has instead decided to walk the path of the ascetic. When he isn't on duty he can likely be found on the parade ground training until his body gives out. While he plays it off like it is nothing, even a cursory glance can see that he is still deeply wounded by the events of two years ago and his recklessness in battle despite decades of experience have led some to think that all he really wants is to die in battle. In the end what he wants the most is closure in whatever form it may come, yet it continues to allude him. Djonn fears more than anything else the thought of those he cares for dying because he wasn't capable of helping them. Because of this he also fears getting too close to others and while he will not actively shun contact with others he will often push people who he thinks are getting too close away from him. ####**Mastery** Skirmisher. Djonn is a master of agile combat, dancing from opponent to opponent and striking rapidly with his vicious glaive or harrying enemies with his wife's bow. Lightly armored, Djonn can't take blows and instead works on avoidance and keeping enemies at reach with his polearm or arrows. ####**Equipment** Djonn has for the past two years fought almost exclusively in the [armor of his late wife](http://i.imgur.com/qZMzwWH.jpg) a light set of armor befitting a ranger. He keeps his [old set of armor](http://i.imgur.com/0zlSm4R.jpg) in storage unable to bring himself to don the ornate feathered plate after his wife's death. He still fights with his matching glaive and if possible he brings his own armor along on long assignments, though it rarely ever leaves the supply train and is only kept as a constant reminder of his failings. He also carries a longsword and a set of daggers for more cramped spaces but they also not used if it can be avoided. ####**Personality** On the surface Djonn tries to maintain the easy-going and soft spoken demeanor that he has had since he joined the White Guard, but its often difficult to maintain at times. He has many acquaintances, but few friends; the Guardsmen that he joined with have either retired, died, or are in command positions. Instead he has cultivated a persona akin to something of a team dad or teacher among the Belencrest garrison doling out advice to young members and aiding the training of anyone who seeks his help. Overall though the best way to describe his personality is dulled, there are no emotional extremes that ever make it to the surface where others are concerned. ####**Totem** **Djonn's Totem:** is etched into the haft of his glaive. It provides him with limited clairvoyance primarily manifested in above average reaction times which in battle can be the difference between life and death. **Lydia's Totem** is a relatively unremarkable face mask made of polished brass. The inner face of the mask is etched with numerous intricate patterns and designs which focus the wearer's vision like an arcane spyglass.

This sounds really neato. I'll start working on a CS

###**Finnegan's Trade House** One of Finnegan's branch buildings had been made into an extravagant series of bath houses. Frescoes and holographic displays depicted many a debauched adventure on the walls and ceilings of the large open baths and smaller heated pools. It was in one such pool that Surface-Admiral Dai'Kronna had been floating in lazily with several of his close officers when things had begun exploding. What he had once thought to be a boring and even slightly relaxing assignment looked like it was spiraling into anything but. The scarred Cephalid admiral sank slightly below the warm waters and bubbled out a sigh. His adjutant, a Grund shaman by the name of Iggi swam gracefully up to the surface-admiral and motioned towards the sounds of the commotion. "Tell me what you can see out there Iggi," Dai'Kronna hoisting himself out of the water slightly, "I want to know what is so rudely interrupting my relaxing soak." the calm in his voice belaying the sudden mix of emotions he was beginning to feel the Grund elder's eyes glazed over as it began to focus on whatever electronic signals it could pick up outside the stone walls of the bath house. After a few moments the gigantic black shaman's eyes regained their focus and it began to speak, "Difficult to say for certain Surface-Admiral, I've never felt beings or technology like this before. By my estimates there are about two dozen beings, maybe more, moving towards these buildings from the woods. Two massive objects flanking them, I'd place my best bet on armor of some kind, and I can make out three airborne objects approaching as well, unable to say anything more than that though." At the words the other Cephalid and officers in the pool began to rise out of the pool awaiting instructions. Dai'Kronna flexed his face tendrils in thought, a difficult feat for the grizzled warfighter, for a near-miss in the past had shorn away many of his frontal tendrils leaving his beak partially exposed. "Alrighty boys, we don't know who these fellas are but prepare for the worst, go back to our quarters and tell the rest of the boys to suit up, full Raider Gear, don't make any moves yet but be prepared for a fighting retreat back to the ship with the delegation if things get ugly enough. I'm gonna go find the owner of this fine establishment and get to the bottom of things." With that Surface-Admiral Dai'kronna hopped out of the pool, donned his pistol belt, and motioned for one of the servants who carried drinks and towels to the non-amphibian visitors to take him to the Boss Man pronto. The rest of his staff also scattered back to their rooms to alert the other Sea Raiders of the surface-admiral's orders. ###**Earlier, Hegemonic Council Chamber, Koros** In classic form the Council managed to accomplish exactly nothing productive during its biweekly session. Councilman Dol'Iktha cracked his neck and massaged his tendrils as he strode out of the chambers surrounded by his armed retainers like most other Councilmen. He didn't really know why he expected anything else to come out of the useless governmental body. Even the mysterious black zone on the galactic rim which was growing steadily larger and in less than a year would likely be on the edge of Cephalid space could garner a unified reaction out of them. The scientific syndicates refusal to come to a compromise on who would send a probe group to study the strange phenomena was the cause of this most recent breakdown in governance. Instead of dwelling further on his choice of work, Councilman Iktha focused instead on the task at hand. Less than two hours later Dol'Iktha was seated around a table with several of his fellow councilmen at an upscale restaurant halfway across the planet. The four seated individuals represented the four most powerful family-syndicates on all of Koros, and therefore, the entire Hegemony. There was Ged'Kronna of House Akt, the warlords; Ced'Drokva of House Vex, the manufacturing cartel; Zol'Dronta of House Kriel, the genetic masterminds; and of course himself, representing House Hrok the shipping giant. After around of refreshments and hors d'oeuvres Ged'Kronna loudly clicked his beak "Alright Dol, what's this about? Its obviously important or else you would have brought it up during the Council session," the others hissed laughter at this, "in all seriousness friend, why did you drag us to this admittedly fantastic eatery halfway across the globe?" Now it was Dol'Iktha's turn to click his beak, though this time it was of slight nervousness. "Recently one of our merchant convoys bumped into something interesting," Dol'Iktha placed a small holographic projector on the table which quickly displayed an image of a dead alien creature unlike anything they had seen before. "This being was picked up by one of our ships floating out in the void, they must have only been there for moments as they were still alive for a while after rescue. Their vocal chords were badly damaged by vacuum burn but they somehow seemed capable of speaking our language. Before the being expired they mentioned a location in hyperspace, a sort of inter dimensional hostel or something I suppose, and also a means to get there" The image changed to one of a pendant free floating above the table. "The location is apparently some place called F-Fi-Finn," Dol'Iktha struggled making sounds his mouth wasn't meant to make, "Whatever its called its a location in hyperspace and the pendant is some kind of key or something to it. The free captain of the ship that picked the alien up noted that the pendant displayed strange properties while moving through hyperspace and that it seemed to draw the ship off course towards some other location. Wherever this place is, if it is what it says then I think this could be a brilliant new market to expand into for all of our houses." The table was silent for some time before once more Ged'Kronna spoke up "This is all pretty fascinating stuff Dol, and the data you've sent to our pads seems to check out, but this could be a trap, if we send an expedition to this place you'll need a better escort than the pitiful gangsters you call soldiers, I'll send along a platoon of Sea Raiders to defend your crew, you won't find a better equipped or trained soldier in all the galaxy that's for sure. Besides, little brother Dai needs something to do these days, he's a tactical genius and a hell of a fighter, but that close call messed him up something firece, and I'm not just talking about his tendrils. It it is a trap then he's the man I'd want to fight my crew out, and if its too much for him well..." Ged shrugged "better him than a member of the family that's all there in the head." Zol'Dronta used the pause to interject, "Woah now, you expect us to just let you two go off on an adventure with what's on the line here? We're talking a brand new, untouched market, no competition among other syndicates and new goods to collect and you want us to just hand it to your houses? I demand that House Kriel gets an ambassador to this thinnygoons place or whatever." Ced'Drokva, who had remained silent until now, found his time to speak "Please, even if we sent ambassadors there's no way that I'd trust the lives of my people on a Hrok ship with what could be out there. If this turns out to be the motherload there's nothing stopping you scalpers from dumping the competition out into the void and taking the secrets for yourselves. If we're doing this it will be on a Navy ship as neutral ground." Dol'Iktha again massaged his tendrils waved his hands to get the rapidly deteriorating group's attention, "Okay, okay, okay. How about this instead? We send a delegation from all of our houses made up of third children, protected by Surface-Admiral Dai'Kronna's Sea Raiders, on a navy boat, that is partially crewed by my own sailors. They are the only ones who know the way after all. And if the entire thing goes bust then We don't lose anything important beyond some navy dregs and replaceable family. Sound good?" There were nods and mumbled agreements. "Excellent, all of this talk was beginning to spoil my appetite."

So who wants to cause an interstellar incident with some Gangster squids(or just in some way deal with them. I don't like entering into these kinds of things by jumping into existing things between races, makes things difficult to track and all)

Yup. Saw that after I posted :I still wish it would tell me how to get hiders working but it certainly helped me straighten things out. Anywho, NS is posted and ready for your harsh harsh words (of encouragement hopefully?)