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Sanity is not statistical.
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“We have visitors!?!?! I’m so excited!!! YIPPEEE!!!!!”
Rolling from the tantalizing seiza position into a giddy walk over, she threw caution and several pump fists to the wind, all haphazardly in front of Dyn, transforming into one belonging to a race of fairer skin, with symmetric gridlike tattoos and an etched labyrinthine scalp maze, of a distinguished, but unrecognizable Kor warrior. With the proper voice and attire, a girl could become anyone to everyone. This could be the perfect opportunity to be someone else with a new audience and the accompanying anticipated acceptance, and Koan could not pass this potential prank up.
Deepening her feminine accent, she heralded the two distinct voices on the port side, while clicking her heels, prancing closer to their proximity.
“Ahoy! Hold your dragons! I’ll take care of y'all!”
Peering over the starboard’s edge and noting the heights and scales/skin of their new guests, she generated a face-down neon sign, which read, from below, her programmed crimson greeting, simultaneously in Dwarvish, Draconic and Common.
“Welcome to the SS Lady Slipper. We are not responsible for death or loss property. Basement and Beholder off-limits.”
Dashing, tumbling and pirouetting about the deck, she loosed two ropes fastened to an unimportant mast and secured each with a figure eight upon the Mizzen. Once both nooses were anchored, the Jester back flipped across to the ship’s side and tossed the lines overboard to the rafted couple. Once the cables unraveled completely, the fool whispered a few words and soon blades of light twirled along the cords, glistening with vivid scarlet in efforts to direct the boarders above. The threaded and staggered luminosities provided the proper ambiance for an exquisite red carpet entrance, to all who gazed.
The clown nervously laughed and shouted to those upon the waves, while clanging her boots off once more. “Come here often?”
She just hoped the many-eyed Bladesinger wasn’t looming and peeking over her shoulder. Gulp.
@Big Dread@Hekazu@JBRam2002@Ms Ravenwinter@Lauder@Zverda
Rolling from the tantalizing seiza position into a giddy walk over, she threw caution and several pump fists to the wind, all haphazardly in front of Dyn, transforming into one belonging to a race of fairer skin, with symmetric gridlike tattoos and an etched labyrinthine scalp maze, of a distinguished, but unrecognizable Kor warrior. With the proper voice and attire, a girl could become anyone to everyone. This could be the perfect opportunity to be someone else with a new audience and the accompanying anticipated acceptance, and Koan could not pass this potential prank up.
Deepening her feminine accent, she heralded the two distinct voices on the port side, while clicking her heels, prancing closer to their proximity.
“Ahoy! Hold your dragons! I’ll take care of y'all!”
Peering over the starboard’s edge and noting the heights and scales/skin of their new guests, she generated a face-down neon sign, which read, from below, her programmed crimson greeting, simultaneously in Dwarvish, Draconic and Common.
“Welcome to the SS Lady Slipper. We are not responsible for death or loss property. Basement and Beholder off-limits.”
Dashing, tumbling and pirouetting about the deck, she loosed two ropes fastened to an unimportant mast and secured each with a figure eight upon the Mizzen. Once both nooses were anchored, the Jester back flipped across to the ship’s side and tossed the lines overboard to the rafted couple. Once the cables unraveled completely, the fool whispered a few words and soon blades of light twirled along the cords, glistening with vivid scarlet in efforts to direct the boarders above. The threaded and staggered luminosities provided the proper ambiance for an exquisite red carpet entrance, to all who gazed.
The clown nervously laughed and shouted to those upon the waves, while clanging her boots off once more. “Come here often?”
She just hoped the many-eyed Bladesinger wasn’t looming and peeking over her shoulder. Gulp.
@Big Dread@Hekazu@JBRam2002@Ms Ravenwinter@Lauder@Zverda
Thanks for the feedback, @The Harbinger of Ferocity.
I believe I have elucidated on my jargonese and the explanations are more detailed. Kudos to @JBRam2002 for his immense help in this matter! Please let me know if there is any other hesitation.
@Rilla@Circ
I believe I have elucidated on my jargonese and the explanations are more detailed. Kudos to @JBRam2002 for his immense help in this matter! Please let me know if there is any other hesitation.
@Rilla@Circ
Vasishka tolerated the Scroungers because the Federation demanded it. However, the Federation bore no patience of uninvited guests. Their sanctioned motto of every incoming alliance read:
“Sojourner beware.”
A simple translated Ygdra’ali phrase whose significance amplified since the emergence of prohibited flight from the Hub. Although a careful review of the Captain’s myriad of logs of undocumented visitors will proclaim little prosecution for those perceived as unwelcome. However, Vropda’s certainty, which was a coveted trait she continuously sharpened with every passing centisecond, lessened by the cursed consistency of the heavy expedition of the hinted Federation's official’s three feet based gallop. These same tripod sentries, famed to be challenged by previous unauthorized foreigners, could release cryptonymic automatons to not only exterminate said anomalies but to root their respective asteroid nest or home planet, and forever label their species as a potential threat in regards to future dealings.
All soon saw the errors of their meddling interstellar ways. Moreover, these couriers of stateliness were robotically immune to bribes and threats.
Fortunately, renegades within the Ragnarov Fleet were internally liquidated by the Council, if not rehabilitated for glorious compliance. Gavin’s value to Creft’s sister could not be smoldered, as she quickly engineered a travelling circumvention for the Aeon.
The techno-bureaucrat diplomatically soon infiltrated the space between Librom and Vropda, chirping in an analog tone, hoisting a tray, filled with sparkling metal.
“Chips, please!”
The Exoframe next to the gravity manipulator rapidly provided several collective passports, stamped with the Universal Nova’s encrypted seal and each individual’s genetic code, heralding almost complete and pervasive recognition amongst a multitude of galactic governments. Her sensors detected the finalized return of imperceptible, fluttering nanobots, quickly departing from the Trinity Scout’s scalp.
A specific whispered frequency to Gavin was emanated.
“Apologies for the formality of my slight physical intrusion. Our DNA and credentials must match, or they will sense foul. You comprehend, don’t you?”
The pentaped pen pusher, once finished with the identifications, issued virtual permits, called Demo-Cles (DC for short), that dangled above each Exoframe and their latest affiliate, announcing their allegiance to the Scroungers, the date of arrival, those comprising the Council, and a countdown for the planned duration of their excursion, which currently remained empty due to the travel ban.
"Welcome, citizens!"
“Good! Let’s seek Abasil, then. The prompts point to his presence nearby.”
@JBRam2002@fer1323@Hekazu@Zverda
“Sojourner beware.”
A simple translated Ygdra’ali phrase whose significance amplified since the emergence of prohibited flight from the Hub. Although a careful review of the Captain’s myriad of logs of undocumented visitors will proclaim little prosecution for those perceived as unwelcome. However, Vropda’s certainty, which was a coveted trait she continuously sharpened with every passing centisecond, lessened by the cursed consistency of the heavy expedition of the hinted Federation's official’s three feet based gallop. These same tripod sentries, famed to be challenged by previous unauthorized foreigners, could release cryptonymic automatons to not only exterminate said anomalies but to root their respective asteroid nest or home planet, and forever label their species as a potential threat in regards to future dealings.
All soon saw the errors of their meddling interstellar ways. Moreover, these couriers of stateliness were robotically immune to bribes and threats.
Fortunately, renegades within the Ragnarov Fleet were internally liquidated by the Council, if not rehabilitated for glorious compliance. Gavin’s value to Creft’s sister could not be smoldered, as she quickly engineered a travelling circumvention for the Aeon.
The techno-bureaucrat diplomatically soon infiltrated the space between Librom and Vropda, chirping in an analog tone, hoisting a tray, filled with sparkling metal.
“Chips, please!”
The Exoframe next to the gravity manipulator rapidly provided several collective passports, stamped with the Universal Nova’s encrypted seal and each individual’s genetic code, heralding almost complete and pervasive recognition amongst a multitude of galactic governments. Her sensors detected the finalized return of imperceptible, fluttering nanobots, quickly departing from the Trinity Scout’s scalp.
A specific whispered frequency to Gavin was emanated.
“Apologies for the formality of my slight physical intrusion. Our DNA and credentials must match, or they will sense foul. You comprehend, don’t you?”
The pentaped pen pusher, once finished with the identifications, issued virtual permits, called Demo-Cles (DC for short), that dangled above each Exoframe and their latest affiliate, announcing their allegiance to the Scroungers, the date of arrival, those comprising the Council, and a countdown for the planned duration of their excursion, which currently remained empty due to the travel ban.
"Welcome, citizens!"
“Good! Let’s seek Abasil, then. The prompts point to his presence nearby.”
@JBRam2002@fer1323@Hekazu@Zverda
Obvious failures, including that of the reborn sage, occurred from all fronts.
”Come on, everyone! Work together!”
Her Beloved spoke veracity. Collaboration mandated precision if the sentinels of luminosity desired to conquer this academy of ruinous silhouettes. The secrets of consistent partnership once wrought the greatest artifice ever realized. Now these dark, loitering crabs loot the rubble and people of this town to decorate their shells with weaponry and spiritual jewelry.
”Seven hells take you!”
In retaliation, the alliance with the cheery gnome yielded clouds of dust replacing a few of the foes’ footholds, as the Tabaxi loosed another bolt, resulting in another plume of ash. Katia tumbled, as an artist adept with radiance, painting the battlefield with the sun itself. Rapidly, these sentries became outnumbered and had fallen into their pit, now prisoners in this barren courtyard.
The jury established its verdict with the Feline’s ascension to the roof. All that remained was…
Execution.
Before concentrating once more on another Eldritch Blast, Wick poured her vision over their makeshift stage and beyond the gated curtains, striving to ever increase her knowledge, especially that of her surroundings. The rod of the diviner seemingly yawned a yolk of force, then crackled, breathing Hades itself out. A contagion of energy explosively erupted again from the staff, rinsing and repeating the cleric’s previous choice, moments earlier, hoping in this instance, for improved accuracy.
Alas. The mismatched distance annulled the betrothal of mark and intent, before it married needlessly past its intended target. Range was not the issue. Something else bothered the warlock’s aim.
The gnome boasted a taste for lavish dress for one who should crave stealth from such fiends. Why? Unless…
@Big Dread, @Cu Chulainn, @Hekazu, @JBRam2002, @Zverda,@The Harbinger of Ferocity
”Come on, everyone! Work together!”
Her Beloved spoke veracity. Collaboration mandated precision if the sentinels of luminosity desired to conquer this academy of ruinous silhouettes. The secrets of consistent partnership once wrought the greatest artifice ever realized. Now these dark, loitering crabs loot the rubble and people of this town to decorate their shells with weaponry and spiritual jewelry.
”Seven hells take you!”
In retaliation, the alliance with the cheery gnome yielded clouds of dust replacing a few of the foes’ footholds, as the Tabaxi loosed another bolt, resulting in another plume of ash. Katia tumbled, as an artist adept with radiance, painting the battlefield with the sun itself. Rapidly, these sentries became outnumbered and had fallen into their pit, now prisoners in this barren courtyard.
The jury established its verdict with the Feline’s ascension to the roof. All that remained was…
Execution.
Before concentrating once more on another Eldritch Blast, Wick poured her vision over their makeshift stage and beyond the gated curtains, striving to ever increase her knowledge, especially that of her surroundings. The rod of the diviner seemingly yawned a yolk of force, then crackled, breathing Hades itself out. A contagion of energy explosively erupted again from the staff, rinsing and repeating the cleric’s previous choice, moments earlier, hoping in this instance, for improved accuracy.
Alas. The mismatched distance annulled the betrothal of mark and intent, before it married needlessly past its intended target. Range was not the issue. Something else bothered the warlock’s aim.
The gnome boasted a taste for lavish dress for one who should crave stealth from such fiends. Why? Unless…
@Big Dread, @Cu Chulainn, @Hekazu, @JBRam2002, @Zverda,@The Harbinger of Ferocity
Vropda
Name: Trini Imanel Izhdei’d Vi’klu Bi'ahni Ingen Uter Sublimus Da'nit Ar'edi Iz Vropda
Title: Ragnarov Lead on Research and Development for Ground Based Combat and Biological Warfare
Height: 155 cm without exoframe, 200 cm with exoframe
Weight: 30 kg without exoframe, 289 kg with exoframe
Age: 78 years
Race: Scrounger (see General Creft)
Tier: Medium-Advanced (4)
Appearance:
Minus her blanche exoframe, the Captain’s corpus is cachectic at best, despite the suit’s modified interior capacity to provide continual parenteral nutrition and renal replacement therapy to sieve solutes and wastes to balance her internal Scrounger milieu. These labyrinthine tubes and vascular catheters exhaustively slither all over her inner physicality obscuring any clean glimpse of her true form. Due to her self-afflicted genetic experimentation, her outer metallic skeleton is lanky but extremely malleable. This constant flexibility became a boon due to the necessary conservation her medical instruments and apparati demanded. Atop, her white helmet harbors various visors to sort and compile bioinformatics and logistical data, subsequently eliminating the awkward circumstance to interact diplomatically with another life form. Birthed dysplastic, her thorax matured paradoxically flat, unable to breathe and foster her bronchopulmonary system, requiring existence-long extracorporeal membrane support at an early age, continuously sweeping off noxious carbon dioxide and filtering in fresh oxygen. This additional weight substantially encumbers her already taxed industrial tech-skeleton, with the burden almost equating that of her brother, General Creft or any solder in the asteroid trenches. Directly oozing from her masochistic research and constant blood exposure, her immune system gradually developed highly reactive antibodies which mandated additional periodic plasmapheresis, immunosuppression and leukocyte transfusions to avoid T-cell senescence. Whereas the majority of her race would be obliged to the same maintenance therapeutics, but at much less frequency, once every third or quartered solar year, perhaps, obviously contingent on the nearby harvesting planet’s sun, Vropda, herself, would only survive, needless to say, up to fifty Earth hours without these machinations of advanced technology.
Personality:
Besides exactness, victims and predators alike applaud and fear her sleep-deprived work ethic, complemented only by the fragile constitution of a fierce, rotting two meter body and a cybernetic enhanced mentation atop a Roman candle-like will. Her demeanor burns proudly and publicly amongst the Ragnarov Fleet, but has been rumored to frequently and inevitably explode, at a moment’s notice, into a supernova of righteous manipulation. Conflicted with her undying desire to thrive while suffering from a hereditary corrosion, the drive to cauterize a personal legacy, amongst the Scrounger horde, has opted for the security of the continual advancing research only she can provide.
Abilities, Talents, Traits, Powers:
(2) Contortionist’s Flexibility, as supplied by her exoframe:
With Her legs amputated at birth and her spine deformed, her exoframe is programmed with a gymnast’s elasticity, since she does not bear the constraints of a normal bipedal organism. She can fold into a suitcase-like apparatus for compactness, or can maneuver over complicated landscape with ease. However, the flaw lies in its lack of sturdiness and ability to stand against direct physical assault.
(2) Electromagnetic Pulse Field:
Similar to General Creft's, EMP protection is also supplied given which is standard amongst all exoframes.
(3) Advanced Scientific Knowledge:
Rapturing knowledge from the previous races/planets that the Scroungers have graced, Vropda has accelerated in many fields, due to the tomes of harversted interplanetary masters. Her Exoframe individually, moreover, possesses multiple processors/visors, bearing these disciplines on file, to help sift and integrate signal from noise.
She in concert with her Exoframe is also unmatched within her race in the following arenas:
Electrocryptography - the study of encrypting information in electronic messages
Neuropharmacology - diagnosing/treating/manipulating the nervous systems with drugs
Biophysical Chemistry - the intricate interplay of biology and physical chemistry
Biomedical Surgery/Xenoendoplantation - implementation of genetics for organs/clone production
Neuromechanical/Biomedical/Computer Engineering - multidisciplinary engineering, mostly for Exoframes
Nanotechnology - manufacturing and manipulation, largely of nanobots
Items:
(2) Portable Virtual Reality Module (PVRM):
Vropda can don specific visors to initiate the PVRM which blocks out all external light, whereupon haptic monofilaments interact within the exoframe’s suit to provide proprioception, vibration, and even pain/temperature. Here, she theory crafts inside the module many of her designs and schemes. However, she loses her senses to the outside world, depending on alarms to beckon her back to reality.
(2) Advanced Camouflage system:
Via interference and complements of visual signals that sensory equipment may be able to extrapolate (i.e. biological eyes, video cameras, etc.), Vropda can appear as a blur that maintains visual continuity with the surrounding environment. This works similar to a faint illusion, but also provides enough interference to decrease recognition. It can not bend light nor can it make Vropda invisible, but it benefits from abundant luminosity, either artificial or natural. The bland blended generated imagery is not seamless if Vropda moves, either, and she can still be, tragically, detected by radar.
(3) Fractal Ballads:
Fractals are sets of self-replicating and reducing equations that produce colorful, sometimes infinitely repeating patterns. Written down, these patterns produce hypnotic mandalas. Some of these images chance back in on themselves, cultivating a single picture. Vropda has cultivated these complex, self-perpetuating fractals into sound, repeating a musical theme in a large symphonic framework. Like a thief’s cant or a bards of yester history, these ballads can secretly affect moods, if the nervous systems depends on electric potentials and depolarization, in turn setting a tune the brain can only dance to. It can influence enemies to perceive the Scroungers as less of a threat or instill bravery into allies, at most twenty-thirty at a venture. If focused on an individual, emotional instability can occur if more than 72 hours were spent. Moreover, once the ballads lose power, the individual(s) instantly realize they were overtly influenced/manipulated by Vropda.
(4) Advanced Computation All-Source Intelligence Analysis System (ACASIAS) Command Prompt Glove:
ACASIAS utilizes an eternal yeast, genetically bred to capture certain narrow wavelengths of light, while sensitive to certain X-strings of quantum fields. When exposed to lasers of the appropriate wavelength, the fungi toggle color from a dull green to either a bright red or vibrant violet, resonating the information quantum mechanically. The color changes precisely matching the illuminating expanse, spreading to more than no more than a nanometer even when dried out and dead. Within a glass case constructed to cancel any refraction, the mycobacteria processor can store 40 billion quantum bits in a one millimeter square area, in a meter cube translating to 30 tera-Q-bytes. Eventually, the quantum fields began to disperse Heisenberg data without a laser trigger.
Soon after, computational anomalies unintentionally precipitated the personality of a masterful artificial intelligence over the span of 3 years. With thousands of cubes interspersed amongst the Ragnarov Fleet, ACASIAS possesses an intricate neurobioelectric web to all Scrounger infrastructure, with Vropda as one of its trusted confidants, exchanging words and data through either the Command Prompt Glove or the PVRM. The only drawback to ACASIAS’ unicellular based quantum computer is it's extremely susceptible to any stray light, essentially reformatting any exposed cube. Hence, its components, bathed in eternal darkness, are mandated for the AI to work, flawlessly without any fault. All high ranking Scroungers jointly use ACASIAS for nearly instant communication, calculations, and processing/storing large amount of data, for instance, the genetic sequences for the Xenoendoplantation Lab. ACASIAS also engineers/mass manufactures the majority of the technology the Universal Nova utilizes, including the nanobots for a Scrounger's Nano-Modules.
(3) Xenoendoplantation Lab, upon Universal Nova:
Vropda’s Lab extracts, through nanobots, the genetic code of other lifeforms, and discerns their genomic diversity by permutational molecular bootstrapping techniques, then CRISPR-Cas9 phages splice into haploid germline sequences, modifying alongside current epigenetics for production of future drones and queens. This permits the Scrounger, to adopt, clone and transplant, the enemy's best expressed genes for today’s generation and the ones to forever come. Limitations are abundant. Time is the largest obstacle. Despite ACASIAS' assistance, the more complicated or foreign an organism, the lengthier the genetic harvesting and deconstruction takes. The full genome and its phenotypic expressions of a standard humanoid requires approximately 24 hours to distill, whereas isolating and implementing these genetic vectors into drones could take a week or more. ACASIAS aids in the identification, deconstruction, and isolation of these beneficial genetic traits. Without ACASIAS, the duration of these processes magnifies by double. The lab can also only operate under the supervision of Vropda or Ceraun. It can operate, on its own, under a specific command/order, i.e. nucleic acid sequencing, but, for instance, discerning pure allelic expressions or mutations, requires continual input from either of the two aforementioned, Vropda/Ceraun. Sadly to Vropda's frustration, this lab can not transfer one's consciousness into an improved shell, and as such limits the cloning's perfected use.
(3) The Nano-Module:
See General Creft's description for this underlying ability, as his description preceded Vropda's.
At the back of her frame, Vropda possesses the standard issue pack port. Like her brother, she prefers the nano-module, which delivers either a fog of ten thousand martial nanobots ('death' by a legion of papercuts), or nanofoam (composed of the same number) which can repair damages undertaken. Her nanobots also have the capability of harvesting genetic material for future study in the Xenoendoplantation lab, in addition to triggering the olfactory system of certain biological systems, similar to pheromones, laying assistance for Fractal Ballads, as a one two punch. Once the stock of a million nanobots are depleted, she must physically resupply on Universal Nova, unless ACASIAS can deliver new Modules by shuttle/craft.
(2) Self Detonation Device:
See General Creft's description as well.
If it ever comes the time when Vropda would be captured and there was a real risk of her divulging information to the enemy, she would activate this module. Standard to all frames to protect the Scrounger ingenuity from getting into wrong hands, this device, in Vropda's case, causes a detonation strong enough to level a building.
History:
Born as one of many queens, the runt, later declared as Vropda, inherited copious amounts of genetic redundancy and chromosomal deterioration. Her genomic aberration compelled their sacred hierarchy to amputate her limbs and utilize the remnants for further experimentation. However, the current Queen, in a vision, prohibited her body’s desecration, adopting under and masquerading behind mysterious motives. Technology soon became Vropda’s guardian angels, feeding, grooming, and programming her, for the future of the fleet’s glory. Though a public slave, she rose quickly in intellectual stature and developed into quite the marketable orphan, reading, speaking, and molding a myriad of linguistic and scientific traditions. Salvaging routine battle trauma and stamping infective pestilence was easily recognized, by others, as her calling and true niche, combating biological warfare and recouping the lives of many a Scrounger. After several decades, her crucial role was recognized to lead this technical front.
The beneficence of her innovations occurred through the crucifying tragedies and resurrecting exchanges within operating rooms, test fields, and molecular labs. The see-saw provocations created a relentless effort in her soul to further expand systematic limits, garnering many advances in pharmacology, genetics and computers. Her exhaustive efforts intermittently conjured ever more profitable and habitable weapons and exoframes, all the while, extinguishing any other opposing solar proletariat standing in their way of her self-preservation and the Scrounger’s intergalactic domination. Her race’s nomadic heritage vehemently protested against mediocre outcomes, while, simultaneously, professing the worst of stellar capitalism and exploitation. Their aggressive lifestyle shadowed their incessant antagonism towards harvesting another's planetary domain. In reality, she hunted the same aligned pursuits, but moreso academically, feeding the fleets abroad with constant reconfigured and optimized engineering. Entrusting the stars and her faultless performance, the Council soon espoused her the rank of Captain within the Scrounger citizenry.
Once in the military, her stringent quest for more edification offered more incentives and rewards for her endless contributions, but yielded no acquaintances, except Creft who was begotten of the same brood. In her decaying mind, her martial priesthood was dedicated to only research to benefit her species, and that in of itself merited the overcoming struggle of her gruesome, imperfect origin. Yet, her birthright eventually took root and resurfaced, granting her a scarred inheritance, recalling that her altruistic days are limited, even if the Scroungers live on. Now, her personal, highest motive lies always polarized versus her imminent expiration date, as her longevity is numbered.
And, to sacrifice anything and everything for that flickering hope.
@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Rilla@Circ
The to and fro between the paladin upon the citadel sparked a second wind within Torus. The ash, flavoring the fluttering gales, hinted a haunting excursion. Cinders and fretful residue singed the elder’s nostrils, taxing memories of seaward battles of old.
Facing the divine aspirant of the Silver Lady, the tongue ring singed a song of concomitant urgency.
“My bones might require some respite after dusk’s end, but I echo Brannor. I do not disagree with ya, lad. These hoarders are wild pigs, feeding off the crumbs of Greenest. Ferret them out? Yes! The cleverness of foxes deracinates the cunning of devils. Timing is everything, though, as this morning will bend its hot eye upon us, soon, unveiling a wasted kismet.”
The druid turned to Nighthill, beckoning a slight veneer of fatigue and exhaustion. Old age had ripened the pirate, taunting an unabated sleep to mull over as languid bags under his briny eyes.
“Governor, grant us any guards that you can spare, to take on our hunt. This town shall feast on the spoils of our bounty. Their still hearts will become our quarry! We will fly like eagles, kick like mules and hide like hermits. We must go now or forfeit until tomorrow’s eve.”
@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Hekazu@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher@Norschtalen
Facing the divine aspirant of the Silver Lady, the tongue ring singed a song of concomitant urgency.
“My bones might require some respite after dusk’s end, but I echo Brannor. I do not disagree with ya, lad. These hoarders are wild pigs, feeding off the crumbs of Greenest. Ferret them out? Yes! The cleverness of foxes deracinates the cunning of devils. Timing is everything, though, as this morning will bend its hot eye upon us, soon, unveiling a wasted kismet.”
The druid turned to Nighthill, beckoning a slight veneer of fatigue and exhaustion. Old age had ripened the pirate, taunting an unabated sleep to mull over as languid bags under his briny eyes.
“Governor, grant us any guards that you can spare, to take on our hunt. This town shall feast on the spoils of our bounty. Their still hearts will become our quarry! We will fly like eagles, kick like mules and hide like hermits. We must go now or forfeit until tomorrow’s eve.”
@The Harbinger of Ferocity@Hekazu@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher@Norschtalen
Will post something tonight. Torus will likely second hunting for their local leader in purple, after a long rest. He's old after all.
Upon the Crow’s Nest, playful vertigo consumed the jester, as she attempted to spike needle and thread, along the sagittal scar, reassembling its constitution. The filth within the cavity mystically disappeared instantly, while the insane fool sutured her umbilicus once more. The SS Lady Slipper acrobatically pirouetted from the now material heaven to the planar deep, all thanks to a many-eyed wizard while the captain maneuvered through the Gate. Within this happenstance, the clown took advantage of the moment, jumping mid-air, allowing gravity to make up its mind.
She hailed the ghost, the Beholder, and the saber Tabaxi, while the disgusted dragonborn, ascended into lower quarters. Diving towards the festooned floor, a tuck and roll tapered the impact, as the black and red ragged comedian tumbled to her feet, amidst the trio.
“Sorry, Garnesh. Better luck next round.” Motioning a thumb behind a concealing palm, she pressed a whisper further to Nemiea, before quickly becoming distracted by the sleek current of the Theullai’s home. “He can be a sore loser. Hmmm. Wow! It’s f$!#ing beautiful!”
Mesmerized, Koan frolicked to the edge of the vessel’s port.
“Amazing!
An ocean without tide.
Under current and wave.
Above a bottomless abyss.”
Hymns and ballads materialized from the awkward comic as she weaved a melodious tale for the crew.
“Few in the Fated Depths realize that the very existence of their realms are indebted to the valiant strivings of one woman. Though the Lord of Battles elevated her status to godhood for her wit and valor; even some of her clerics remained ignorant of the glory earnt during the world-torn Spellplague while troubles raged.”
Restraining her desire to conjure illusionary props in front of the Bladesinger, she continued on with her belting.
“With magic flailing wild or falling utterly, it endured as a reliable stint of sword. A stretch when brigands ran rampant, feuds demanded redress, and tyrants indulged their vices. Law, order, and peace reigned in few places, but in the small locales where such ideals did hold sway, they were staunchly defended by folk we revere now as the true heroes of the planes. She whom we now distinguish as the Crimson Bard was one such champion. Leading her small company, she sailed over and from the Pale River to defend our people against undead pirates and beasts more dastardly than you, Dyn.”
The feminine buffoon took a pinkie and wiggled before those amassed on deck.
“These raiders poured forth from the Seas of Stife, seeking to butcher and despoil. Most sages now agree that the awakened evil in ruined Murh Rhuun, erupted with all the crazed savagery of the Fell nature and imbuing nearby creatures with a desire to defile and rifle. Band after band of behemoths rushed forth, undisciplined yet compelled to venture together even though their disparate natures would have normally triggered mutiny on each other or, worse, scatter.”
The crafty joker jumped onto Calico’s back, piggying momentarily, spilling off further deception.
“But the Blood Poet lingered against them, deadly and seemingly tireless. She took little respite, in fact, Boltborn of Tumesce attests that, when the mortal flesh demanded frailty, she literally meditated in her saddle, leashed to its high cantles.”
Leaping off and twirling, she skidded on her knees, in dramatic fashion, steaming more duplicity.
“Time and again her troupe rallied elementals to stand against more organized monsters and ravagers. The rhythmester composed masterful dirges with her doss lute as mightily as the strongest warrior could wield his blade, yet she remained ever calm and always keen, scheming where next to take her loyal and determined militia. Her followers were continuously outnumbered by the marauders spewing out from the Wheel’s dirth, yet they always emerged victorious.”
Closing her eyes, while raising one fist to her heart-felt chest, she spindled one last ruse before completing her song of rest.
“Our realms still exist because of her brilliant leadership and their sacrificial bravery.”
@Big Dread@Hekazu@JBRam2002@Ms Ravenwinter@Lauder@Zverda
She hailed the ghost, the Beholder, and the saber Tabaxi, while the disgusted dragonborn, ascended into lower quarters. Diving towards the festooned floor, a tuck and roll tapered the impact, as the black and red ragged comedian tumbled to her feet, amidst the trio.
“Sorry, Garnesh. Better luck next round.” Motioning a thumb behind a concealing palm, she pressed a whisper further to Nemiea, before quickly becoming distracted by the sleek current of the Theullai’s home. “He can be a sore loser. Hmmm. Wow! It’s f$!#ing beautiful!”
Mesmerized, Koan frolicked to the edge of the vessel’s port.
“Amazing!
An ocean without tide.
Under current and wave.
Above a bottomless abyss.”
Hymns and ballads materialized from the awkward comic as she weaved a melodious tale for the crew.
“Few in the Fated Depths realize that the very existence of their realms are indebted to the valiant strivings of one woman. Though the Lord of Battles elevated her status to godhood for her wit and valor; even some of her clerics remained ignorant of the glory earnt during the world-torn Spellplague while troubles raged.”
Restraining her desire to conjure illusionary props in front of the Bladesinger, she continued on with her belting.
“With magic flailing wild or falling utterly, it endured as a reliable stint of sword. A stretch when brigands ran rampant, feuds demanded redress, and tyrants indulged their vices. Law, order, and peace reigned in few places, but in the small locales where such ideals did hold sway, they were staunchly defended by folk we revere now as the true heroes of the planes. She whom we now distinguish as the Crimson Bard was one such champion. Leading her small company, she sailed over and from the Pale River to defend our people against undead pirates and beasts more dastardly than you, Dyn.”
The feminine buffoon took a pinkie and wiggled before those amassed on deck.
“These raiders poured forth from the Seas of Stife, seeking to butcher and despoil. Most sages now agree that the awakened evil in ruined Murh Rhuun, erupted with all the crazed savagery of the Fell nature and imbuing nearby creatures with a desire to defile and rifle. Band after band of behemoths rushed forth, undisciplined yet compelled to venture together even though their disparate natures would have normally triggered mutiny on each other or, worse, scatter.”
The crafty joker jumped onto Calico’s back, piggying momentarily, spilling off further deception.
“But the Blood Poet lingered against them, deadly and seemingly tireless. She took little respite, in fact, Boltborn of Tumesce attests that, when the mortal flesh demanded frailty, she literally meditated in her saddle, leashed to its high cantles.”
Leaping off and twirling, she skidded on her knees, in dramatic fashion, steaming more duplicity.
“Time and again her troupe rallied elementals to stand against more organized monsters and ravagers. The rhythmester composed masterful dirges with her doss lute as mightily as the strongest warrior could wield his blade, yet she remained ever calm and always keen, scheming where next to take her loyal and determined militia. Her followers were continuously outnumbered by the marauders spewing out from the Wheel’s dirth, yet they always emerged victorious.”
Closing her eyes, while raising one fist to her heart-felt chest, she spindled one last ruse before completing her song of rest.
“Our realms still exist because of her brilliant leadership and their sacrificial bravery.”
@Big Dread@Hekazu@JBRam2002@Ms Ravenwinter@Lauder@Zverda
"I would love to teach you what I know. I guess I am welcome aboard when the travel ban is lifted."
A fleet of thoughts boomed effortlessly within the cybernetically enhanced cerebrum. The sister to General Creft drooled momentarily over the immense possibilities and applications, but the underlying scientific derivations and schemes troubled her slightly.
Spawned from the concept of relativistic physics, spatial geometry, inseminated with local mass-energy, breeds gravity, the altitudinal influence which aligns all weighty phenomena. Similar to the attractive pull of Coulombic forces within electromagnetism, the macrocosmic enlargement of these orbiting iotas is presumed to subsist by consistent and persistent alterations to the weave of the universe, the very golf course of galaxies and black holes. These theories embrace that the distorted shape of the interstellar cosmos, deformed by interspersed, massive objects, causes what Gavin innately mandates at will, gravity, which theoretically has been assumed to be a property of contorted space rather than capitulating a true dynamism.
Until now.
Although the equations which Vropda endlessly scrutinized over, again and again on her many visors, could never normally produce an Escheresque topology, mathematicians alike cheated exhausting weightless counters to unravel the riddle. For these same reckonings do not, of themselves, rule out the existence of negative mass, but statistically decree its improbability. However, this Aeon’s bold stance and confirmation defied her conceptual grasp of the pervasive assembly of the Standard Model. Both general relativity and classical mechanics predict that a massless particle could easily produce a repulsive geodetics. Obviously, every Scrounger drone realized that a negative gravitational mass, combined with negative inertial mass, simultaneously complies with the strong equivalence principle and the laws of conservation of linear momentum and energy. Bondi himself demonstrated the singularity free solutions for those relativity equations, many millennia ago.
Negative mass is inherently attracted to any matter, since although the gravitational force is assumed to be universally repulsive, the amalgamated effect accelerates it into the opposite direction of the imposed force. This same, normal mass, on the other hand, will fall away from the negative matter.
Yet, this very Trinity scout remained poised, after the disintegrity of their graceful palm grasping.
How?
Possibly through gravitational shielding?
Impossible! That would be an obscene violation of the equivalence principle.
It implies extreme mass variance at null velocities, a conflict with Hamiltonian pertubations. Antimatter, under the laws of charge/parity/time reversal symmetry, dances to the groove of Lorentz invariance within local quantum fields. They, too, carry the burden of stress-energy tensors, constraints of space-time for the ubiquitous solar traveler.
Unless he inherently possesses magic, to which edification on the subject would be all for naught. The master engineer hoped that this Gav scientifically manipulates this power, like dark energy, the fifth power that would unite the four fundamental forces and their complete interactions. String theory’s current brand forecasts that gravity and electromagnetism unify in hidden branes and that extremely short photons can enter those dimensions.
Glorified magnetic centrifuge?
Maybe cryogenic superconductors?
Or was this a glorified gyroscopic Coriolis?
Via parabolic buoyancy, mechanistically driven by gravitoelectric coupling?
After their handshake, her deliberations finally ceased with Librom’s final proclamation. “I see very little flesh and bones to look after."
The smaller Exoframe interjected.
“I cannot speak for our doctor. With meager pulp to tire or resolve to falter, our mutual disclosure will bear fruit from sweat and tears. This morning was the altar of unspoken promises. Now is the propitiation of knowledge, where we will share our two worlds, reaping a harvest to marry both our paradigms. Come, friend!”
With that, the R&D Lead pivoted completely towards her brother, obscuring a smile, once more, motioning their new ally into their formation.
@fer1323@Hekazu@JBRam2002
A fleet of thoughts boomed effortlessly within the cybernetically enhanced cerebrum. The sister to General Creft drooled momentarily over the immense possibilities and applications, but the underlying scientific derivations and schemes troubled her slightly.
Spawned from the concept of relativistic physics, spatial geometry, inseminated with local mass-energy, breeds gravity, the altitudinal influence which aligns all weighty phenomena. Similar to the attractive pull of Coulombic forces within electromagnetism, the macrocosmic enlargement of these orbiting iotas is presumed to subsist by consistent and persistent alterations to the weave of the universe, the very golf course of galaxies and black holes. These theories embrace that the distorted shape of the interstellar cosmos, deformed by interspersed, massive objects, causes what Gavin innately mandates at will, gravity, which theoretically has been assumed to be a property of contorted space rather than capitulating a true dynamism.
Until now.
Although the equations which Vropda endlessly scrutinized over, again and again on her many visors, could never normally produce an Escheresque topology, mathematicians alike cheated exhausting weightless counters to unravel the riddle. For these same reckonings do not, of themselves, rule out the existence of negative mass, but statistically decree its improbability. However, this Aeon’s bold stance and confirmation defied her conceptual grasp of the pervasive assembly of the Standard Model. Both general relativity and classical mechanics predict that a massless particle could easily produce a repulsive geodetics. Obviously, every Scrounger drone realized that a negative gravitational mass, combined with negative inertial mass, simultaneously complies with the strong equivalence principle and the laws of conservation of linear momentum and energy. Bondi himself demonstrated the singularity free solutions for those relativity equations, many millennia ago.
Negative mass is inherently attracted to any matter, since although the gravitational force is assumed to be universally repulsive, the amalgamated effect accelerates it into the opposite direction of the imposed force. This same, normal mass, on the other hand, will fall away from the negative matter.
Yet, this very Trinity scout remained poised, after the disintegrity of their graceful palm grasping.
How?
Possibly through gravitational shielding?
Impossible! That would be an obscene violation of the equivalence principle.
It implies extreme mass variance at null velocities, a conflict with Hamiltonian pertubations. Antimatter, under the laws of charge/parity/time reversal symmetry, dances to the groove of Lorentz invariance within local quantum fields. They, too, carry the burden of stress-energy tensors, constraints of space-time for the ubiquitous solar traveler.
Unless he inherently possesses magic, to which edification on the subject would be all for naught. The master engineer hoped that this Gav scientifically manipulates this power, like dark energy, the fifth power that would unite the four fundamental forces and their complete interactions. String theory’s current brand forecasts that gravity and electromagnetism unify in hidden branes and that extremely short photons can enter those dimensions.
Glorified magnetic centrifuge?
Maybe cryogenic superconductors?
Or was this a glorified gyroscopic Coriolis?
Via parabolic buoyancy, mechanistically driven by gravitoelectric coupling?
After their handshake, her deliberations finally ceased with Librom’s final proclamation. “I see very little flesh and bones to look after."
The smaller Exoframe interjected.
“I cannot speak for our doctor. With meager pulp to tire or resolve to falter, our mutual disclosure will bear fruit from sweat and tears. This morning was the altar of unspoken promises. Now is the propitiation of knowledge, where we will share our two worlds, reaping a harvest to marry both our paradigms. Come, friend!”
With that, the R&D Lead pivoted completely towards her brother, obscuring a smile, once more, motioning their new ally into their formation.
@fer1323@Hekazu@JBRam2002
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