Ozerath

Log Horizon: Western Europe

Kewl. Also, am I blind, or is there indeed no spell format shown in the CS section?

Log Horizon: Western Europe

Intredasting. Super intredasting.

Mind if I get in on this as a Paladin? I might need a little help working out Ace moves but otherwise I've got ideas for tanking spells.

What Remains - a freeform Sci-Fi Fantasy NRP

Persephone station
Approach vector

MSV Friedrich Lochland slowly drifted into one of Persephone station’s cavernous docking bays, inching along on thrusters only. It’s GDC engine was shut down in order to not rip the station apart with massive gravitational forces. Usually it was more convenient to assume orbit and simply shuttle personnel back and forth to the station, or moor at one of the far out docking spars, only requiring reduced power to the GDC rather than a full shutdown. But a multi day long stay involving significant maintenance and cargo loading required nothing less than a docking bay, and thus a full shutdown.

MSV was perhaps a misleading prefix for the Friedrich Lochland. It was indeed registered with the Commonwealth Ministry of Commerce as a “Merchant Space Vessel”, but it was considerably faster and better armed than most ships of the same designation. Friedrich Lochland was in fact a decommissioned Unyielding class heavy cruiser, purchased and refurbished from the scrapyards above Bravia. Formerly named RCNS Impatient, the vessel’s original hull was over a hundred years old, and it had been mothballed for 50 years before being refurbished and renamed. The Unyielding class predated Commonwealth positron technology, so its turrets were less potent ionized particle cannons. Combined with the removal of its axial weapons, it was cleared for civilian ownership and operations, but it was still very much a warship. Just a very, very old one.

The expense of purchasing and maintaining such a vessel massively exceeded the costs of a more traditional freighter, but the Friedrich Lochland’s captain had come to possess it under some interesting circumstances. The captain himself was an interesting man, engaged in all sorts of interesting business. His name...was also Friedrich Lochland. Lochland was a bit of everything; innocent cargo hauler when it suited him, smuggler and gun for hire most of the time. He occasionally took passengers as well; there wasn’t much of a market for high security high discretion personal transport, but those few who needed the service tended to pay well.

Lochland prowled around the bridge, deep within his ship’s armoured bulk. He was a male Vit’azny, a touch over 70. He wasn’t tall, but he wasn’t short either. His frame was lithe, but well muscled, and he twisted a stylus between his fingers with tremendous dexterity. Shutting down the GDC always left him feeling vulnerable and therefore fidgety. “Status?” he called out.
“We’re about 100 meters out, Captain. Shutting down thrusters and letting station tractors take over,” Vana replied with a touch of exasperation. Vana Sadi was a Yanissan woman who served as Lochland’s pilot and first officer. On most ships, the two roles were filled by seperate people, but Lochland insisted that he was the only one allowed to walk around the bridge looking ‘captain-y’.
“Well I’m sorry that my concern is bothering you Vana,” Lochland replied sarcastically. “We’re just a little exposed here, and starships are very expensive. I think about these things Vana, that’s why I’m Captain and you’re...well, definitely not Captain. With the GDC down, a stray drop of frozen piss could punch a hole through the hull.”
A hologram abruptly flickered on by Lochland’s side. It was avatar of the ship’s Virtual Intelligence. Aside from the blue tinge and occasional flickering, it looked exactly like Lochland, and was commonly referred to as Freddy. “Rude!” it said indignantly. “My armour can take considerably more than that.”
“I’m sorry Freddy,” Lochland replied. “You know I’m just worried about you.”
“Apology accepted Cap. And might I say you’re looking particularly dashing today.”
“Thank you Freddy, but I’m still not going to promote you to first officer, much as I would like too. You’re not quite sentient enough.”

As part of his refits to the ship he’d named after himself, Lochland had wanted to incorporate an AI personality. Commonwealth AI tech was rubbish, so he’d gone to the Valerians. Despite his best efforts, he’d only managed to secure a virtual intelligence, rather than truly thinking software. The Valerians had plenty of the things, but they were highly restricted, used only for the military and research. Freddy was a prettty good substitute though. He could flawlessly immitate organic behaviour, hold conversations, even pass basic sentience tests. His command and control faculties were also impressive, easily handling much of shipboard operations, letting the ship run with a crew of only 80, a shade more than a tenth of its designed crew capacity. But Freddy couldn’t truly think, couldn’t improvise, couldn’t contemplate his own existence and self-improve.

“If you two are done jerking eachother off, we’re docked,” Vana called out from the helm station.
“Excellent,” Lochland said. “Freddy, draw up the usual port duty rotations for the crew, and tell Sully to meet me and Vana at the main airlock. If he’s so picky about parts, he can come with us and pick them out himself. Oh, and you’re in charge until I get back.”

------------------------------------------------

Persephone station
Main concourse
The station was mostly populated by humans, but there were enough aliens scattered throughout the crowds that Lochland and Vana didn’t stand out too much. Sully, unfortunately, was bound to draw a lot of attention whereever he went. Sulnatar was a Szitzu, and he towered head and shoulders over anything else in the crowd. He served as the Friedrich Lochland’s chief engineer, and he grunted in protest whenever anyone called him Sully, which was all the time. He was coming along on Lochland’s little shopping trip because he was incredibly fussy about the quality of any and all hardware used on the ship, and Lochland was tired of being cussed out when some recent purchase failed to meet Sully’s rigorous standards.

They stopped by a number of shops and stalls full of various high tech looking devices. The storefronts were largely irrelevant; merchants put them up to display the quality of wares, but all their stock was usually kept in cargo bays in the utility levels of the station. The display wares were not necessarily representative of the quality of the actual goods, and most buyers were more interested in raw materials that they could assemble into the desired goods themselves. Sully seemed to know what he was looking for though, and eventually selected a vendor who met his criteria.

Lochland introduced himself and his companions, but then let Vana take over. Lochland was a fast talker and good at securing a deal, but Vana was even better, and she had certain advantages. She and the vendor went at it while Lochland and Sully relegated themselves to the background. After a while, she shook the vendor’s hand and rejoined her companions.

“Well?” Sully asked curtly.
“He’s solid. He agreed to meet us for an inspection later today, and I didn’t pick up any traces of duplicity. The readings on his exotic isotope stocks he’s got on display are accurate too,” Vana replied.
“Great. We’ll work on pricing if his goods pass inspection. You got what you needed for your pheromone thingy?“
“Yes. His sweaty palms were a bonus, I expect he’ll negotiate very reasonably this afternoon.”

Vana had two main advantages in most negotiations. One she was born with; a trickle of telepathy, just enough to read surface thoughts and emotions, but fortunately for her, not enough to have been snapped up by Toolbox, as most Yanissan psintegrae were. The other advantage, she’d picked up later. In the Yanissan Principalities, genetic modification was the norm rather than the exception. One very popular modification allowed pheromone manipulation, and was so widespread that anyone without it (or at least countermeasures) would be hopelessly disadvantaged in all social and business settings. The tech was originally tailored to Yanissan physiology, but further modification could let it adapt to alien biologies, even individual preferences. The more contact the user had with the target, the better the results. Vana now had a solid sample of the vendor’s biochemistry; next time she spoke to him, the man would find her absolutely irresistible. Unless he didn’t happen to like women; then they were pretty much hosed.

“Alright, let’s get some lunch,” Lochland began leading them towards a restaurant. “I’ll see if we can take care of our other business while we’re at it.”
As luck would have it, the eatery they chose was already playing host to some of those telepathic tentacle balls that Lochland had encountered a few times before, Zedic or Zecidic or something. In comparison, Sully looked distinctly normal, and the three of them were able to grab a table and order food with minimum fuss. Lochland pinged their contact on the station, and settled down to enjoy a hearty meal while they waited.

What Remains - a freeform Sci-Fi Fantasy NRP

Guess I'll post my second IC.

Gotta ask,@duck55223, are we gonna get some kind of central plot action going, or is it up to us to make our own interactions?

EDIT: Posted

What Remains - a freeform Sci-Fi Fantasy NRP

@Everyone, IC post is up. The post ended up getting absurdly long, so I posted the internal politicky exposition stuff now, and I'll post the dashing rogue stuff later.

@TheSovereignGrave

We could push it back as far as 100 years if you like. I suppose the Commonwealth is less of a single, sudden threat like the Sauru'u, and more of a lingering danger, a constant reminder to the Rimworlders that there's safety in numbers.

@Arawak

Ok, I'll bear that in mind, just thought I'd use an established neutral location for my dashing rogue trader character.

What Remains - a freeform Sci-Fi Fantasy NRP

Mitropolit Bar and Grill, Vitrograd city, Praetoria.

It was a bright, beautiful summer day. The sun beamed down on the Old City quarter, perched on white cliffs over Konstantin bay. Sir Robert Castlereagh, Baron Mornington, Knight Indomitus of the order of St. Diae, and Minister of Foreign Affairs for Her Imperial Majesty's Government actually found himself lightly sweating, a rare feat in Praetoria’s generally chilly climate. He debated adjusting the climate field around his table, but decided against it. He’d chosen a table on the rooftop patio specifically to enjoy the heat, no sense wasting it. Vitrograd spent most of its year wrapped in a heavy layer of snow and swept by blizzards, with only a brief relent for a short, intense summer. Even to the north, in the warmer equatorial regions, Praetoria still managed to produce snow and blizzards, as if in defiance of the sun’s heat.

Overhead, traffic was fairly light, as usual for the Old City. Further away from the cliffs in the finance district and downtown, the air would be absolutely teaming with traffic of all kinds weaving between towering arcology spires. In contrast, the skies above the Old City’s low stone buildings had only a handful of aircars, a police gunship or two, and far above the hazy outline of a Imperskiy Vichnesk atmospheric defence frigate slowly circling the Winter Palace. One of the aircars abruptly turned groundwards, making directly for Castlereagh’s position, slowing to a smooth stop, and disgorging its small passenger onto the patio before leaping to the sky again.

“Thank you for coming, Cato,” Castlereagh said graciously as he shook hands with his guest. It was typically considered polite to stand and greet one’s guest, but to stand when greeting a Rhodesian only exaggerated their comically small stature, so Castlereagh remained seated.
“Thank you for inviting me, Robert,” the diminutive Rhodesian replied as he took his specially made seat. The chair was specially designed to accommodate Rhodesians; any decent Core World restaurant made a point of having several on hand. It had a short back and a powered seat, so that Rhodesians could seat themselves and automatically be elevated closer to eye level with their table-mates.

Sir Cato Telemachus, Knight of the order of St. Diae, Marquis of Polesia, was one of the rare few Rhodesians who’d made the transfer from the bureaucracy to the political world and been successful. He was currently the Minister of the Interior, a position with far more power than the name suggested.Telemachus’ ministry was responsible for monitoring and maintaining the integrity of the realm, a thankless task with little reward. However, the Ministry of the Interior also controlled the Office of Colonial Affairs, which gave Cato Telemachus rather vaguely defined control over the administration of the colonies. Additionally, since the colonies were a responsibility of the crown, Telemachus’ position brought him into frequent contact with Her Imperial Majesty and her court. He and Castlereagh were close personal friends, but it was business that brought them together today at a very posh restaurant in downtown Vitrograd.

“Of course. Now, as they say, business before pleasure,” Castlereagh said, tapping a button on the tabletop. A privacy field sprung up around them, shutting out all sound from the city around them and preventing them from being overheard. The Mitropolit was just around the corner from Whitehall, the heart of the imperial government, and only a few blocks from the Winter Palace, the seat of the Crown and court. To better accommodate their elite clientele, the Mitropolit and other establishments like it installed high end privacy fields at most of their tables. Basic civilian models only blocked sound, useful for blocking out general background noise and permitting intimate conversation. The fields at the Mitropolit were much more sophisticated; blocking out sound, blurring the air to prevent lip reading, and generating full EM spectrum jamming to prevent any form of electronic eavesdropping.

“I’m drafting a report for cabinet on The Rim,” Castlereagh began. He paused for a moment, and Telemachus leaned forward in his chair ever so slightly.
“Ever since that first debacle,” Castlereagh continued, “there’s been a great deal of interest in them. Wealthy, disparate worlds ripe for the taking. Fiercely independent people, it's true, but we’ve dealt with that before. Obviously Robspeitz’s approach didn’t work that time. The Rim may be fractious, but not so much they’ll simply let us swallow their worlds one by one. I’m working on a different approach.”
“Very interesting, but I don’t quite see what you need me for.”
“I’m getting to that. The external stuff is more or less wrapped up. In brief, we’d aim to incite a war and smash their military to pieces, force them to the bargaining table, impose military restrictions, then slowly start grabbing worlds. Analysts estimate about 1, maybe 2 years for the war, total annexation after 10. My question to you, Cato, is can we bear it? Oh I’ve had people look into it, and I know the broad strokes; short decisive wars can be an excellent way of diverting pressure outward, protracted conflicts are trouble, etc. But is there anything specific, anything being...suppressed...that would have an impact on my recommendation?”

Telemachus tented his fingers thoughtfully. Castlereagh had been right to ask for his input. Of course the Ministry of the Interior put out memos and briefing notes on a regular basis, but his colleague knew that not everything made it into those reports, and Castlereagh wouldn’t want to be made a fool of in cabinet.
“Well, Robert, these things are prone to complications, but I’d say you’re more or less in the clear. The psychosocial projections we issued last week are rated at 90% accuracy, some of our best ever. Yes we’re still dealing with fallout from Valerian integration, so the realm isn’t at its most stable, but there’s nothing above a category 2 insurrection, either active or projected. Of course those are simple enough to deal with; a few black bags generally does the trick, and orbital strikes are always an option.”

Castlereagh suppressed a momentary shudder. Telemachus was so small and helpless looking, it was easy to forget just how dangerous he was. The recent integration of the Valerian Republic, complete with full constituency, had caused uproar on many colonies that felt the Valerians were ‘cutting in line’. Telemachus never so much as blinked when signing death warrants or authorizing military strike teams. He had an ability to think of people as only so many statistics, making him very good at his job.

The Rhodesian continued, thumbing the menu as he spoke. “Going forward, if you can deliver a short, decisive war, that would of course boost public morale. The Rimworlders may take some working on, but that stubborn independence of theirs could be dealt with. Push down hard on their homeworlds, start up some colony drives and spread them out among the verge worlds; the key would be to disperse the Rimworlders, but that’s my problem, not yours,” he said with a smile. “Of course, there’s always the possibility of unforeseeable developments, but if you live in fear of the unknown, you’ll never get anything done. Does that about cover it?”

“Yes, thank you Cato. I’ll be sure to mention you in my report. Now, lunch.” Castlereagh deactivated the privacy field, and the noise of the rest of the world came tumbling back in.
“Indeed. They just put bluefin growler on the menu last week; I hear it’s to die for.” Telemachus signalled a waiter over, and suddenly they were just two friends enjoying lunch.

What Remains - a freeform Sci-Fi Fantasy NRP

@TheSovereignGrave

Alright, how bout something along the lines of this. 5 years ago, the Commonwealth sent a fleet task group to one of the Rimworlds with the intent of convincing or coercing it to join the Commonwealth. However, they severely misunderstood The Rim as a whole, and when a sizeable Rim fleet showed up a few days later, the Commonwealth forces backed down.

Something like that. Timeline is also flexible.

What Remains - a freeform Sci-Fi Fantasy NRP

@TheSovereignGrave

The ultra-expansionist Commonwealth might work for your history as well. They're always nosing around trying to entice, coerce, or outright force independent worlds and smaller factions into joining them.

What Remains - a freeform Sci-Fi Fantasy NRP

Working on an IC post, partially some internal politics, partially a free trader who'll serve as a sort of neutral plot inducing character for my faction. Just wanted to ask @Arawak, is Persephone station free for anyone to use, or do you have specific plot restrictions in mind there?

What Remains - a freeform Sci-Fi Fantasy NRP

@Arawak

Finished reading your NS. Yeeeeaaaah, that sun worshiping thing would be dangerously catchy in the Commonwealth. Possibly even "christianity in Rome" level catchy. It'll be interesting to work with.