A Bloody Spring (Semi-Open; TG if Unsure)

by **The Free Tonhi** » Sun Aug 30, 2015 1:36 pm

A Public Square

"And so you see, Li Nesar is not hiding out of fear or guilt. He is secure in both his innocence and in the power of our protectors." The man was loud and proclaiming this news widely. "He simply sees no reason, at this time, to put himself and those protectors in danger if the creatures who attacked his beloved sister come for him! For make no mistake, the story we have been told is a lie! As are all stories told by the Dragon that has stolen our world! Far more likely is the servants of the Emperor conspired against her, against all the Li family! Perhaps even Damalin, the so-called Emperor, himself struck the blow, though that crime may be too much even for him. But with the Li bloodline exterminated, they will have our home enslaved forever, or so they believe!"

"Let this madness end! Not through violence, and not through war, but through reason! I call upon the Republic of Sunset to free our home! Free our Kingdom! Let all of you do the same!"

Some people were listening. Others dismissed it. But enough were listening. This could cause problems.

Safehouse within the Jungle

"I will sit on the throne of my ancestors, though I have to rebuild it with my bare hands." Li Nesar mused over the various plans and scripts before him. He had shed the clothes of the Nimato and returned to the formal garb he believed befit him as king. "And once I am in my proper place, we will see an end to all of these things that weakened my father to the point where he accepted the plans of a girl, rather than honorable combat!"

"Of course, your majesty." An old, bent man murmured by his side. "Your commands have been followed, and all has proceeded as I have foreseen. Your younger sister..."

"That slut. Sold herself for peace. Never refer to her as my sister again."

"Their doctors are strong, but I am stronger, and they know not what they face. She will die soon enough, as I promise. The One Who Waits has shown this to me, as it showed me what I needed to learn here to secure it."

"Excellent, Hierophant. Excellent. And it has kept its promises to me, as have you." The Prince pulled up his sleeve and revealed the twisted scarring. "And as I will keep mine, to it and to you and your brethren. And from that start, with the fanes thrown up and the shrines and altars demolished, who knows what the future will hold?"

"As you say, sire. But our Lord is a hungry one, and our fane has grown cold. May I warm it?"

"Of course. Praise the Gods, Hierophant."

"And they will reward you." The Hierophant went to the door, but stopped when Li Nesar spoke.

"The younger one. I grow bored of her and I grow bored of her weeping, in equal measure. Nor do I want the risk of my men taking pity on her." Not all of his men had converted with him, after all, and even with the addition of the Snake as an ally his force still contained far too many who had discovered the false virtues of mercy.

"As you will. They are, after all, yours to dispose of as you will." And he was gone.

by **Sunset** » Sun Aug 30, 2015 8:27 pm

Thang Long Citadel, Near D'Zytendi City, N'Xypndiltn...

A small insect moved on the trunk of the tree, brilliant orange and red spots speckling across its back and mimicking the same distinct coloration of a patch of fungus that grew not centimeters away. One was poisonous, one was not, and it was the nature of the jungle to disguise one as the other. Except as a dimly remembered childhood warning Tradia's focus on the first was only momentary and she swept the imager up past the ripple of brown and green to a space where sparkling blue was visible through the canopy from their vantage point on the tree-covered hillside. Small dancing waves blown by the evening breeze broke lightly on a rocky gray shore and she carefully focused until a rusty red and brown citadel came into view. Perched on the rocky volcanic spire that sat at the middle of the lake, it was a magnificent example of the architectural style of the Tonhi and an exact match to what she was looking for.

'Prince Li Nesar... I wonder if you're home.'

'I do not think he will be,' the man next to her said, whispering despite the unspoken nature of their Augmented communications. He was not used to it but now was not the time nor place to quibble over technological familiarity; Their arrival would not be appreciated and it would likely be expected thus every advantage would be sought. 'What little I have been able to glean states his departure as almost as soon as word of the attack on the Imperial Consort arrived.'

With a click, the image enhancement faded away and the pair began their careful trudge down the cliff side towards the waters edge. As they walked the Adjutant kept sweeping her eyes between the nonexistent path ahead of them, the darkening jungle, and the distant unlit manor on the far island. She'd been there before and not in the distant past of childhood but it seemed only a few weeks ago, though it had to have been more. The rush of combat, of death and blood, had seared the moment into her mind as another panel in the sharp, crisply drawn pages of the book that was the extermination campaign against the False Gods that had ruled this world. Emaciated corpses hanging on the walls of underground cells, the cries of women pinned in cages and laid out on tables. Tortures terrible and foul and the blood that had washed them away as the two Avenging Wraiths had butchered the pretenders to a man.

'I wonder,' she paused in her steps, allowing Inspector Min to invisibly step past her, 'I wonder if the taint of that place had some effect on him.'

But that wasn't a proper question to ask, was it? The question as put forth by the Executor was whether Prince Nesar was involved. The restless spirits of the defiled and their tormentors might linger still - or so she had been raised to believe - but motivation was secondary to involvement and against a stage back-dropped by the galaxy itself the notion of ghosts and terrors influencing the thoughts of a man would seem laughably archaic. They would cross, search the citadel for any indications, and report in. Perhaps he was just a rabble-rouser and perhaps not though the man from Internal Harmony had already put forward his own opinions while the two were travelling between the Capital and D'Zytendi City.

She turned to look behind her; The spire of the city's red-gold pyramid was now gone, vanished as the hillside had dropped away to leave them only a few meters from the edge of the water and the next stage of their trek. Again, she'd been here before and their path had been chosen to take advantage of that. While the citadel stood high on the rocky outcrop to command a stunning view of the small lake and the far shore, she knew that the rock it was build on was latticed with tunnels and caves and on this side of the island a hole had been blasted through, courtesy of the destructive firepower mounted on a super-heavy gravtank. It had also cleared a path through the jungle, throwing aside trees like tumbling spears, but she had avoided that route; It has been cleared and built up into a private road that led from the city to the lake and a small dock.

That too was a potential indication as to the status of the fortress and at the water's edge they stopped to look; A large flat-bottomed ferry stood tied to the near docks while their first sign of life - four guards dressed in mass-market fatigues with short rifles - stood or walked the dockside.

'Waiting for if their master's household decides to return,' the Inspector offered, crouching down beside her to focus his own magnifier on the scene.

The Prince would have a flier, of course, though he might not use it. Even on a Republic frontier world, they were expensive and rare enough that any travel by personal aircraft would be noted. Tradia had taken her own to the city but left it behind in favor of a hike. Even if there was no one home, someone in the city would have noticed their flight out to the island and it was that same network of gossip and rumor that had led them here in the first place. A little bit of time for the surety that they would not be spotted as the experienced warrior led them through cleft and shadow.

'But nothing on the far bank...'

At least nothing that she could see. But even under the holographically shrouded armor that both wore, the water would give them away as they swam across. They didn't need to but she'd decided and he'd agreed that they did. The guards were right there, of course; Questioning one would be a matter of waiting for nature to make her demands and then jumping him with the Treznor-made stun pistol she carried strapped across her chest. But even if he told the entire truth, they would still have to verify that truth by checking the island and so it was that the pair instead watched carefully to make sure no one at the closer dock was looking in their particular direction before slipping into and under the water. For a warrior, the ability to swim was a necessity but there was more than a bit of hesitancy as the Roanian joined her.

'Keep breathing,' she instructed, watching from behind as he swam slowly ahead. A meter then two then three under the surface would render them effectively invisible, especially in the fading light, but his unfamiliarity with both the equipment - which he'd practiced on in the car - and the very act of swimming combined to remove his everyday air of confidence. 'Slowly, and breath.'

'A terribly experience I do not wish to repeat,' he admitted as he pulled himself out of the water on the far side. Hidden from view behind a cluster of massive boulders that had been blasted free from the cliff above, they rested as he peeled back both his mask and hood to appear as a floating head while invisible hands pressed at his eyes in an effort to wring out the unfamiliar.

'There could be worse ahead.'

Above them, she could see the dark hole where the twin beams had punched through and left a caricature of glaring eyes that sunk deep into the mountainside. Inside there had been horrors; How many of them were still there?

by **Roania** » Mon Aug 31, 2015 4:55 pm

Hall of the Council, Palace of the Secretariat, GyehZho District, Imperial City Prefecture, Rudan Prime

"I apologize for cutting short your spring holiday, those of you who were away. But an emergency meeting seemed the best course of action at this moment. I know the Emperor, and I, may count on your full support in this difficult time." Siela glanced down both sides of the table. Hostility, indifference and shellshock greeted her. Good, only that last was new, and she could deal with it. "Now, some of our number are away at the moment. Prince Nesar and Lady Daeri are traveling to Thanh-Tonh. I'm sure you already know Marquis Chan, the Prince's deputy, and Undersecretary Lin, from Administration. Doctor Kousenel is... occupied, so he has sent his junior, Doctor Chang, with his latest report. In the place of Great Secretary Aleis, who is expected to make a full recovery within the week, is Under-Secretary Tso." That took care of introductions.

"Now, some of you have undoubtedly heard rumors. I would, therefore, like to confirm what happened. Yes, Imperial Consort AiQien was attacked by a Tonhi extremist, motives currently unknown. Yes, the man was her nephew." How that was possible, Siela didn't want know. She had a hard enough time navigating the culture she was nominally from. "Yes, he claimed the support of dissidents outside the Empire. And yes, the Emperor has commanded the dispatch of two fleets to blockade and silence the planet Tonh. This is the situation as it currently stands. Are there any questions?"

"What is the Department of Internal Harmony doing to determine how large this conspiracy was and how far it's spread within the Realm? Are we all at risk of being attacked in the course of our duties?" It actually took Siela a moment to determine who had spoken. Down the table, the usually quiet Myaari Selise Mena (Great Secretary of Trade) had determined to be voluble, and she placed her hand on the table. "I demand answers, Qinglin! You have charge of our safety, and what is that worth if mere vassals may enter our palace and attack the Lady of the Phoenix Throne?"

Ko Qinglin's eyes flashed, and he pushed his glasses up his nose. "First of all, Miss Mena. The security of the palace, and its gaps, are hardly my department. I am sure the gracious Captain of the Guard would be more than happy to answer your questions were he not busy determining what went wrong. Second, there are billions upon billions of men and women within the Inner Sphere, and billions upon billions more within the Middle Sphere. It is neither feasible, nor desirable that my department have direct oversight of every word everyone speaks everywhere. Third..."

"Enough of your nonsense! We know who is the problem! Who threatens us, who has threatened our internal affairs for centuries! We must take the steps to preserve our security!"

"And what would you recommend, Miss Mena?" This from up the table, where the grey-cloaked Marquis Chan sat, his long fingers tapping on the low wooden table.

"We should round all the Tonhi in the Inner Sphere up, and send them back home! The Emperor has already stated that is his desire, has he not? Grand Secretary, is that not the case?"

"The Present Emperor," Siela murmured, cautiously "has expressed a desire that those Tonhi at present on Rudan Prime be placed under additional surveillance, and that no further arrivals or departures should be permitted. He has not commanded that we gather all the Tonhi together and force them to return home. Neither here, nor in the Home Worlds at large."

"Then we should anticipate His desires. I demand this Council vote in concert. The Tonhi across the Inner and Middle Spheres should be gathered together as we would any dangerous animals. Leave them where they are, or send them back to their rightful place, but to roam free? No, no, ten thousand times no!. Our safety, the safety of the Empire, demands it!"

"You're speaking childishly." Ramiel's voice was ice cold. "I feel no danger from the broad mass of Tonhi, and I see no reason to break the highest laws in the Realm merely to satisfy your cowardice. When the time comes, if that time comes, I will obey our Lord, but I see no reason to anticipate his decrees and put myself in his place simply for your benefit. I oppose the notion that this Council vote on such a rash proposal. I propose we censor Miss Mena and request the Department of Trade send a substitute. Perhaps she will feel safer after a rest cure. Elsewhere."

"I second her call for a vote." Oh Light, of course she would. Lorelle's eyes glimmered hatefully below her bangs, and the scar she carried everywhere seemed to take on new life. "After all, we are a council, are we not, Grand Secretary? At the service of our sovereign, the Lord of Ten Thousand Years, long may he reign. If enough of us feel that this is a necessary course of action, then the Sovereign should be advised." Siela's eyes throbbed, and she reached up and covered her eyes for a moment. Not hearing an answer, Lorelle smiled serenely. "I, and the Department of Agriculture, vote aye. The safety of the Realm is our first concern. If this passes, as I am sure it will, then they can be released, no harm done."

"I vote aye as well. What has come over this council, that we propose doing the expedient in favor of the merciful? That has never been our way." That was Kesrei Karhan, the Secretary of the Treasury and Taxation. No surprises there. No doubt the Tonhi had failed to return enough income at some point and he'd been outraged by it.

"I abstain. I cannot reach Doctor Kousenel for guidance, and without that I have no authority." Doctor Chang. Chan and Lin followed his lead.

"Have you all taken leave of your senses? My people will obey no such order from this council. I vote no." Qinglin. Siela could have kissed him.

"In all my years in the service of the Throne, I have never had the misfortune to serve alongside the likes of you. I vote no." Ramiel's voice had deepened into a growl. "This solves nothing and creates more problems besides." Siela would kiss him, but been there, done that.

"I vote aye." Ailar. A mild surprise, that. But she supposed not much of one. He was always complaining about Tonhi attitudes towards the fields and forests and the animals therein.

"Mmmr, not understand any of this, mraw." The Secretary of Communication shook his head, his tail lashing back and forth. "Have they done wrong? I know the Lord is mrad, yes? But why do we do this? But if it is for our safety, why would we not? I vote nothing."

"You abstain, Great Secretary Nmmr?" Siela's eyes narrowed.

"Not in my department, mrawp? I just deliver the mrail and look after things, mrr. All I know." Nmmr shrugged once more and settled back onto his cushion.

Siela's eyes traveled to Gon Yu, who sighed and took off his little glasses and began to polish them on his robe. She shook her head. "You propose to abstain as well, do you?"

"I find the notion abhorrent, but I am not sure either the Emperor or the Celestial Master would agree at this juncture, Grand Secretary. I cannot vote in favor, but I cannot vote against, either."

Siela closed her eyes for a long, difficult moment. She was alone. Her only ally was Ramiel, whatever that was worth at this moment. Nesar and Daeri were absent and their underlings had failed in this battle. What could she... well, there was... "Enough of this." She reached to her breast, unhooked her badge of office, and placed it firmly on the table before her. "This vote is ended. So long as I remain Grand Secretary, and I will be here for at least the next five months, there will be no further talk on this abominable suggestion. Do I make myself clear?" Most of the supporters nodded.

"You... I will go to the Emperor, then! You are with the traitors! You have gone mad! You... you... I will call him right now! Computer, 9, 9..."

"Computer, Great Secretary Nmmr, all further requests from communication on the network by Selise Mena, formerly Great Secretary of Agriculture, are forbidden. Order 0, 1, 0, 1, 1, 0, by Grand Secretary Ma Siela." She tapped her finger on the badge.

"You... you can't do that!" Selise's eyes widened. "I serve at the Pleasure of the Throne!"

"And after you have regained your composure, and he has expressed a willingness to be bothered with administrative trivia, perhaps he will reinstate you. Secretary Qinglin? Miss Mena is to be placed in protective custody. Safely. Make sure no harm comes to her en route or under protection." Qinglin nodded and began to send the order. "Guards!" Three members of the Imperial Guard entered the room upon being called. "I am afraid Miss Mena has suffered a nervous attack. Seems to be quite a lot of it going around these days. Bring her to a secure room and keep her there until the Watch collect her, please? Thank you." Mena started to splutter, but the guards were inexorable, quietly dragging her from the room as she began to spit curses and profanities.

"Very good." Siela took a deep breath and looked around the room. "No more of such talk. It serves no purpose, it will enrage a populace already frightened, and may lead to further tragedies. And I doubt the Realm at large would care much for such talk from this council. I want solutions, suggestions, ideas, debate. To make things better. Not madness and raw fury and terror." She got enough of that from the Emperor, she didn't need it from below, too. Not that she said that, of course.

"Of course, Grand Secretary." Lorelle. Dammit, Lorelle. With Aleis gone, the woman seemed to have no joy besides spitting venom, and Siela could see the words forming as she said them. "I expect your teachers in the west taught you all about how to handle a disagreement like that, yes? They'll be so proud of you."

And the worst of it, the absolute worst of it, was that even though Siela knew it came from toxicity and hate, it still hurt.

by **Roania** » Mon Aug 31, 2015 7:02 pm

He had been taken in hand, given some pills and a shot of something sweet, and now he... he was clear. Yes. Clear. It was good to be clear, right? He was an Emperor. He was the mountain, and the wind of events could beat on him as it will, he would not break. He would not. He could not. His eyes traveled to the empty bed, where he and she had pledged their love to one another again and again, spoken of their future... no. His hand tightened, and the pain returned momentarily, but he pushed it aside. Yes. He hurt, his beloved hurt. But he was the Emperor. He had never wanted to be, but he was. Here he was. In the palace. His palace. On his world. In his Empire.

And it was his, and all that crawled and scurried and walked across his worlds were his. Yes, it was so obvious when you looked at it like that. And when he hurt, shouldn't all of them hurt? And failing that, why not spread the pain to those who'd never loved him as they should? Oh, they had hated him. He could see it now. He had stolen their princess from them, and for that they hated him. No doubt they'd had a future planned for her as a brood mare.

And his hand clenched into a fist. His wife, some concubine of some worthless... no, calm, calm. He'd sent his best, yes? Yes, of course. They would do what needed to be done, learn what needed to be learned, for his law to be obeyed and for him to make an informed decision. Yes. Yes, of course. And if they gave the wrong answer? Well, then he had no reason to listen to them. He was the Emperor. He was the Emperor, and he knew his enemies, whatever excuse they made for their enmity. He had shown them pity, and he had been...

His head hurt. Hadn't stopped hurting. He could feel her pain, hear her screams, even though his doctors assured him she slept. What did they know? What could they know? They were doctors! He needed his chaplain. No, he didn't. He'd be counseled to read the Precepts and obey them. What need did he have for them? He knew them by heart, and he knew he was the Emperor, and his wife had been hurt. His wife could leave him. Could be taken from him.

He lashed out, his hand sweeping some priceless treasure from its place and shattering it on the floor. It felt good, and he did it again. And again. He regretted killing the wives and children now. Oh, it had felt good, but had they lived, he could have truly worked his will upon them. Perhaps he should have kept the traitor alive, too. Though his face twitched into a grim smile. The guards had done exactly as he'd commanded. Wise of them. If only all could be so obedient. The traitor had suffocated, and his soul would know neither light nor dark. And he'd never see the rebirth he no doubt believed in.

He did have options to relieve this fury. There were his prisoners, after all... he had promised the lives of their wives and children had they cooperated, but the old one... the one who had betrayed his hospitality, bought this serpent into his mist... he could. Yes. Oh yes, he could. All as he deserved..

He shook his head, clearing it momentarily. No, no. His beloved still lived. He owed it to her to show the mercy he had, didn't he? Of course. And she would live, whatever he had to do. Yes. And his fingers dug into his desk. His eyes closed and he breathed, finding his center. All in his center was pain and loss, but it was good, it kept him focused. His wife would live. She must.

His eyes drifted to the letter sitting open. From Mballa. Good, surely she would understand. She was smart. Far smarter than his servants. And his eyes drifted through her letter, not reading it, not comprehending it, until he came upon her call for him to understand the numbers, and for him to not take the loves of others from them. And he slammed his fist on the table. Did she not understand, then? He was Emperor. He was the master of these worlds and their people! And if he willed it, they would feel his pain as they should, and if he ordered it, they would die as they should.

Oh, he remembered he had once said something different. Not too long ago. But he couldn't find that place within him anymore. It may have been lost to him. His wife needed him to be strong. Strong as a steel blade, and able to cut as sharply. And if he explained that, then of course she'd get it.

A hand found a pen. A moment more produced some paper.

Mballa,

I am surprised you chose to approach me with such formality! Have I given you cause to think my friendship is no longer yours? If so, I apologize. I am always most deeply obliged to you for your friendship, your support and your guidance, and I appreciate it all the more that you have given it in my darkest hour. And as we are friends, I hope you will forgive my rebuke, which I shall couch In such of my art that is left to me.

The Sparrow
Should Not
Tell the Minnow
How to Swim

It does, as usual, lose something in the translation, but my mood is far too black for calligraphy and the stamps are...well, they appear to have broken. I shall have to replace them when my wife has recovered. I have never proposed to...

The words here were smudged beyond legibility, as if for a moment a few drops of water had fallen upon the letter.

...not understand, but how could they? I have sought solace in the lessons of my predecessors, but tomes and scrolls and recordings can only offer me so much. I need...

An entire paragraph has been lost, a fact which he didn't seem cogent of.

Pain. All I feel is pain. When I close my eyes I see it again and again, I hear it again and again, and all my power and servants could not prevent this. I have not the power to protect? Well, I have the power to destroy, then. And why should I not? I have been raised to this point without any desire for the throne and against my will. I have twice tried to give it up, and twice been refused. And all that gives me solace, gives me pleasure, soothes me, is my beloved. For trying to take her from me, for wanting to take her from me, for hating her... for hating her love for them... she came to me of her own will! I did not steal her from them, as they would from me!

Well, and why should I not show them the pain I feel? I have been kind. I have been understanding. I have tried to be merciful and generous, not as I see it, but even as your people would see it. And this is their reaction. You would tell me that many are innocent. I would ask you of what crime? I have charged them with nothing. I need not. I will not. And I... I won't need to. I know I won't. My wife will be returned to me. I am certain. Certain as I am of the stars and the spirits and the Light.

The text is blurred again, both from tears and as if controlling the quill proved too difficult for a moment

...have of me if they succeed in their monstrosity? I cannot do as some would do and step down over a loss or a half-loss. I have no successor worthy of the name or capable of rule. Nor could I leave this galaxy until I do. Well, and then? Why should I live in a world without my wife, if it means those whose hatred created this also live freely? I.. I cannot. I will not. I refuse. I refuse to do so, and my will shall be done, and seen to be done, though all the winds blow against me.

I do not ask for your understanding. I do not ask for your forgiveness. Nor do I ask for your acceptance; nor your passivity. I will do as I must, you and yours will do as you must. I would regret it, but I must be strong. Strong and sharp and ready to cut when the time comes.

But enough! It will not come to pass! It cannot come to pass. It must not come to pass. My wife will return to my side, whatever I must do to ensure it. Yes, I would quite willingly call upon S.H.O.D.A.N, were she willing. I would bargain with the Dark, or even pray to the Dead God themselves; why would I reject the aid of a woman whose only fault is she was created rather than born? Is that heresy? Then let it be heresy. Nothing else matters.

Asen Damalin, thrice-cursed.

by **Scolopendra** » Mon Aug 31, 2015 8:29 pm

Still Stonozka, but, perhaps surprisingly, not the Executive Apartments

*ping*

She waited a moment, assessing what woke her up, then opened her eyes. Doing so accomplished nothing, as it was dark. She rolled them in their sockets anyway, scanning what would be the room as she lay on her back like a person-shaped plank. That habit sated, she checked the message that made it through her quiet-hours filter. That meant it had to be important.

As it was.

She composed a reply even as she read through the text-scan.

Damalin,

The sparrow apologizes, and accepts the rebuke. Not just anyone gets that from me, so take it for what it's worth.

Though let the sparrow tell a story. No parable teaching how to live, no fable with a lesson. Just a story. Something that happened.

There was, years ago, a little girl who'd never asked to be born, but her birth forced her parents together, and they held that against her. Like all little girls, she was occasionally bad. Her parents, already never too pleased with her, would always be sure to whip and whup her into shape. She tried to please them, as all little girls try to do with their parents. They had already decided that they could not be pleased unless she was perfect, and if she wasn't, then she was to be hated for how she weighed them down. So she grew sad and angry in equal measure, sad as she was only a little girl and angry as even little children have a sense of justice. The little girl became an older girl, and as that went as nature goes she realized that she did not love those who her parents thought she should. That only made her, in their eyes, evil as well as inconvenient. So they tried to whip and whup her into the shape they thought she should have, that their scaly old books said was the right way to be.

But they'd whipped and whupped her before, and it had only turned her heart hard. One day, it simply broke. She couldn't be sad anymore. She wouldn't let herself be. From that day, hate was the word on her lips and the fire in her belly. She didn't 'love' after that. She pretended to, but only to use her lovers as a weapon against her parents. She stayed true to the law, but not to the writ, explicitly to give her parents cause to beat her down so she could bare her gritted teeth and spit her blood back at them. Maybe she should've told others, maybe she should've done something else, but maybes and should-haves are nothings. Eventually she escaped them, but not because she was rescued. The law merely said she was free of them. So out she went into the world, a heart of hatred for a cruel world and a heart of pride for having survived it, and she went and got in fights and killed some people in a legally sanctioned fashion. Her parents died, luckily not by her hand, and as per their scaly books they got put into the ground less than a day later. The young woman didn't put down her sword, not even when those who'd given it to her told her to, as she'd have to grieve, right? She corrected them. Her parents were dead thus she had no parents, and so still to this day they rot in the ground unmourned.

She'd like to add 'forgotten,' but she's only really any good at faking forgetting.

As I said, it's just a story. It's a thing that happened to a little girl, like things happen all the time everywhere. It's not the girl's or the sparrow's place to tell the boy or the minnow that she knows the truth. She probably doesn't. No one does, most like. All she, or anyone, can really do is hopefully let one of the very few people in the universe she gives a proper tinker's damn about know that he's not alone. She can't feel your hurt, but maybe she's felt something similar.

You don't need to ask my understanding, forgiveness, or acceptance. Like you said, you'll do what you do, and I'll do--and grant--as I will. I choose to listen, if you choose to speak. If I understand, I understand. If I forgive or accept, it is only because I will it.

And if I can help, I do because I wish to. I will inform S.H.O.D.A.N. to talk to you.

~Mballa

She wanted to say that she'd make it work. She grinned, lips stretching past her teeth, at that motherly thought, but it wasn't a properly human, commonly warm, expression. Not that it mattered, there wasn't anyone there to see it. She wanted to say it, but didn't. She'd been kicked around too hard to ever be maternal enough to make promises she couldn't be sure of keeping, and now wasn't the time to hem and haw and qualify like Kraisee'd taught her.

After eyeballing it to make sure that it said what she wanted, she sent it away with a flick of her mind. Another flick reached out to one of her few friends.

-Shodey, Mballa. He's losing it and there's damn little I can do. If AiQuen turfs it... you know.-

by **New Naggoroth** » Mon Aug 31, 2015 10:47 pm

The Closed City, Rudan Prime

While the out guest wing of the grand palace had been utter devoid of activity, the inner halls leading to the imperial residency were quite the opposite. Guards were everywhere; both the usual Imperial Guard in their polished dress uniforms, along with a few of the hulking ogres in their bulky and far more practical gear. Everyone was on high alert, especially after the bloodbath that had gone on in the audience chamber not some few hours past.

'Maybe this isn't going to be as easy as I thought.' Ellenith grumbled to herself as she presented her documentation to the first pair of sentries. Being cousin to the Emperor and member of the Imperial Court opened lots of doors for the young mage, but time was short, and only growing shorter.

"We have to go faster," she said to Korhandris as the pair passed down a hall, once more having to present documentation to the sentries at the other end. Elly grew fearful that, the farther they got, the longer each check would take, until eventually they were turned away. She had not thought about what she might do when that happened, and was unsure just what she was willing to do to see her cousin's wife restored. "Any ideas?"

"Yes, one," Korhandris said softly. He closed his eyes and muttered something that Ellenith didn't quite catch, but she could feel the tingling sensation of Ulgu wrapping them up in a shroud. The wind of Shadows was quite useful for providing glamours of concealment and haste, so Elly was hardly surprised Korhandris had used such such a spell.

"They will see us, but generally avoid us," he said in druhir at a normal volume, quite aware that the guards wouldn't understand a word. When he approached the next set of guards, they merely grunted in greeting, and waved them through. It seems the glamour had worked, and they were able to move unhindered towards the Imperial Surgery.

The theatre was quite lavish, as such things went. A broad mobile bed in the centre of the room held the patient, and surrounding it was all the technology modern medicine could bring to bear, for all the good it could do. A puzzled looking doctor sat on a chair near the end of the bed, reviewing something on a small data pad. "... Doesn't make any sense..." they heard him mutter as they entered the room.

"Doctor...?" Ellenith called out to him, once the door was shut behind her. "Doctor Kousenel?"

The doctor, who it looked like hadn't slept since the incident had occurred, snapped up to glare at the two intruders, "Yes, what? I'm busy at the moment, and you shouldn't be in here. This is the..."

"Yes, doctor," she said in soothing, placating tones, a subtle weave of magic in her voice to easy the weary doctor's frayed nerves. "We know who she is. It's me, Ellenith Drakharn, her husband's cousin. We're here to see if we can help."

"Help? Ha. She's already got the best damn doctor in the Empire, and I'm powerless to do anything to help her."

"What do you mean?" Korhandris asked, concern heavy in his voice. "You cannot close the wound?"

"Look, I don't know who you are, but..."

"Humor us, doctor. Time is short, no?" Elly cut him off curtly. "The wound?"

With a sigh and a grumble, Kousenel gave in. "The wound is fine. My work is impeccable; there's not even a scar. Yet still she's dying. It's all our limited stasis technology can do to keep her stable. The poison..."

"Poison? I should have expected as much," Korhandris interjected, speaking mostly to himself.

"Yes, the poison," Kousenel repeated, his own words practically dripping with venom, "Is nothing like we've seen. It defies toxicological definition. If I didn't know better, I'd swear it was magic."

"It could well be..." Korhandris said softly, as he approached the bed, arms held out before him. He held his hands above the prone form of the Imperial Consort, and started a soft, murmuring chant. A faint nimbus of light appear around his outstretched hands, along with little motes of green energy.

"What the hell do you..." Kousenel began, just as Korhandris suddenly stopped and pulled back suddenly, as if stung. "Anathema..." he gasped, his breathing becoming laboured as he recovered, while Ellenith hurried to his side to support him. "This is far beyond my skill to deal with, Ellenith," he groaned, as he looked down to find his hands burnt by the disruption of his spell. "Something is very wrong here. We must be away. To Hoeth. To the loremasters."

---

Clar Karond high orbit, INS Reaver's Flight

"Major Drakharn, you're putting me in an untenable position,"

Scarlet Drakharn gulped hard as she spoke with her superior, one Commander Malus Caelir. Orders had been received for the Reaver to prepare to assemble with the rest of the Second Fleet. Evidently word had reached the high lords of what had transpired on Rudan, and of the sudden mobilization of their allies. There was little appetite for war, especially with Yut, given how lucrative trade had been with some of the various nations of Sol, but if the Roanians started shooting things, they were duty-bound to assist.

"I understand, sir, but if you could just get Admiral Nathezarr on the comms..."

"I also understand that you've got the Admiralty's ear, thanks to your familial connections, Drakharn," his voice was like steel, cold and sharp and remorseless, "But I would advise you not to try going above my head. We have the standing orders, and this ship will be ready to jump at 1730 today along with the rest of the Second."

The finality of the commander's voice brooked no argument, and Scarlet, defeated, snapped a crisp salute. "Yes sir. Will that be all?"

"However..." suddenly hope, as Scarlet's good eye seemed to visibly brighten, "We have received new orders directly. We will be escorting a small flotilla of transport ships to Rudan. The Admiralty has pressed a few haulers into service, as we are to be on station to evacuate any Naggorothi nationals on the surface. While the Radiant Empire is our ally, they are notoriously xenophobic. The hallytyr do not feel it wise to be unprepared for any potential violence against our people, and the damnable treaty we have with them allows us some recourse to station an emergency response force nearby. I don't suppose that this will be a problem for you, will it Drakharn?"

A sigh of relief escaped the young Major's lips, and the hint of a smile cracked her composure. "No sir, not at all."

"Good. Resume your post, Major. Dismissed."

by **Roania** » Tue Sep 01, 2015 9:48 am

Imperial Surgery

Kousenel's eyes narrowed and he slowly rose to his feet. "What kind of madness are you playing at? And you, Miss Drakharn, should know better than to have people come in here at your say-so. What the Captain will say... what your father will say... what the Lord of Ten Thousand Years will say... I shouldn't like to be in your shoes if I have to tell anyone." The Surgeon no doubt would have had more to say, but a loud whining sound broke up the conversation, followed by repeated beeps and chimes from the instruments around the room. The visitors were forgotten. "ALL OF YOU! GET IN HERE!"

His juniors present came running in at full speed, possibly the fastest Ellenith had seen a Roanian besides her family move. Every station was taken up by terrified doctors, while Kousenel started studying his data sheet. Fast stretches of words went overhead.

"Brain activity declining rapidly!"

"Heartbeat rising... no, lowering! No... none of this makes...

"We've lost her vital signs! Wait, there they... this is meaningless!"

Kousenel scowled and went to the consort's side, speaking a rapid series of words and numbers. In a moment, the crystalline shimmering over AiQien faded completely. "Stasis has been removed. Findings now?" And he placed his hand on the young woman's wrist, closing his eyes and counting to himself.

"She's alive. More alive? But we're still losing her. Whatever it is is wider in her system and more active. Almost like it's intelligent."

[color=]"Honored Surgeon, we have no sign of activity in the brain or along her Chen. No readings whatsoever. Her vitals are... stable, but..."[/color]

Kousenel put his hand to his head, and slowly, gravely turned to Ellenith and her companion. "I don't pretend to understand your intentions, or your actions. I wouldn't believe in them even if I had. This may be good, or it may be bad, but I suggest you leave. Quickly. Before..."

"HAI KOUSENEL, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY WIFE?" Damalin was many things. 'Loud' was rarely one of them. It had been happening more and more frequently these past few days, though, and he stood at the surgery door, his eyes pinpoints of pure flame, his visible teeth far sharper than usual and his hands opening and closing into fists without thought. And then he snarled. "ON YOUR KNEES! ALL OF YOU!"

"Most Blessed Lord, I..."

There was the crack of a whip from the Shenqin Emperor's mind, and the doctors in the room sank like dogs to the ground. So, too, if they were wise would the Naggorothi, though his command was not directed at them. He appeared not to notice them. His voice lowered, but the fury remained. "I bade you to your knees. If any of you rise before I grant you leave, if any of you so much as breathe before I grant you leave..." He smiled. It was not a pleasant smile, "the bound ground has room for many more in it." A selection of guards had appeared in the reception area, and beyond the entryway several ogres now stood. All waited for commands with faces of solid stone.

Then the Shenqin Emperor crossed the room and went to sit on the bed beside his wife, who made no movement at his approach. His hand touched her head, her wrist, the carefully healed place beneath her perfect little breast. "...speak, Kousenel."

"Oh Lord upon the Dragon Throne, your wife yet lives. We... we have ended her pain, that is all. It will..."

"I cannot feel her." the Shenqin Emperor put his hand to his head, staring down at his slumbering wife. "Only the pain and fear and love, and only my own pain and fear and love. Her voice is gone, her soul is not with me."

"Of... well, we can... I mean..." Kousenel's lips tightened as his master spoke again.

"Who did this?" And the madness was burning away, and there was only a cold, quiet fury. "Who are you protecting, Kousenel?"

Kousenel glanced at Ellenith and her companion, but couldn't bring himself to speak. "An accident, that is all. We can still..."

"Guards, if my surgeon will not answer my question to my satisfaction, I wish him thrown into the river." The Emperor did not turn around to look at any of them, his hand wandering over his slumbering wife's face. "Which of your associates silenced her?"

There was a moment of deep terror, and Kousenel sighed. "The Drakharn girl and her companion. I know not what they did, but I believe they were only trying to help. And, if I may speak as a medical expert, blessed sovereign, their actions may be for the best. With her no longer suffering and killing herself from pain and fear, we have a... we would never have thought to, but perhaps..."

Damalin took his hand from AiQien's face and rose, drawing his robes and cloak around him as he did so. He stared silently at his wife for a few minutes, as if willing her to speak. "You tell me my wife being silenced, her soul being silenced, could be a good thing? Taking her from me in this fashion? As though she had gone to her ancestors? You kneel there in your robe and your badge and your honors, given by my mother, and you tell me, propose to tell me, dare to tell me that?"

Kousenel's voice was very quiet. "Yes. As a doctor and as the servant of my sovereign, I have no choice."

"Can you bring her back?" There was no answer. "Forgive me, I find my patience growing short. I will ask one more time, Hai. Can you return my wife to me when I bid you, or after you have healed her? Which I assume, if I grant you this boon, you will do?"

"I will do all that the Spirits and the Light allow to return the Consort to her throne, most eternal lord."

The Shenqin Emperor reached down and touched his wife's hand one more time. "Then do so. Do so and riches and honors beyond any my mother gave you will be yours and your associates. Miss Drakharn, you and your companion will follow me. Do not presume overmuch on my mercy. I find it overtaxed these days." And he and his guards, all but two, left the chamber.

Kousenel wiped his brow and rose to his feet, his hands trembling. Without sparing Ellenith or Korhandris another thought, he began giving instructions, orders, demands and commands to his underlings. More resources, more technology, more medicine.

by **The Free Tonhi** » Tue Sep 01, 2015 10:40 am

"And so I call upon you now. Heed our prayers, as you have heeded the prayers of those who came before me. In this place called to your name, the first of many across this world and all worlds, I beseech you. Bend the spirits of field and forest to your will, the souls of the living and the souls of the dead. For there is no order in light and no chaos in dark, there is only the nullity, the hunger, the war, the blood and the flesh, and you are its master." The Hierophant raised his hands from the carefully built stone altar and looked into the crackling green flames before him. "Pain is yours to give and joy is yours to take, and you Who Wait shall have all and more, as before and so again. As a token of this, in memory of the fanes of old and in token of the ones to come, I grant you this meal. I am yours, all life is yours, all spirits are yours, all dead are yours. For there is no light and no dark, only the void and its hunger, and the mastery over light and dark alike that you bestow on us." And the Hierophant raised his hands. "Bring forth the sacrifice!"

Curious people, these natives. They behaved sometimes as if all of this was familiar to them, a dream from which they had escaped and would escape again. Had he cared to follow into the barbarian mind, perhaps he would learn more, but these were only petty people, worthy only for lesser servants of the Snake-That-Bides, the One-Who-Waits. They did make excellent sacrifices, though.

Two brothers of the snake, dressed now in the full ceremonial garb they had always hidden, stepped forward, dragging the Xpyndi female behind them. She struggled, pulled, fought, but the thorny bindings on her wrists prevented her from trying, and when she tried to cry out more blades pierced her lips and tongue. "Who sacrifices this female to the God?"

"I do." Li Nesar smiled. "I own her, and I give her freely to the God I serve." The Prince spoke from above, overlooking the sacrificial altar he'd added to his safehouse and the pit beside it. "She was my maid and my plaything, but I have grown tired of her, and it ill-befits a King to keep a toy he has tired of."

The Heirophant grabbed the woman by the neck, lifted her up and threw her onto the table, then tore the cutting gag off her. "Speak your fear and hatred! You have been betrayed! You have been cursed! And you will die!" She did nothing but scream, mindless words in the native language none of them understood or cared to understand.

And then she died. The Hierophant lifted his black steel knife, old when the Empire he hated had driven his predecessors out and cut across her in deep, gashing strikes, starting at the throat and working down, sending her blood seeping down the channels and into the blackened ground. Some of the blood, however, pooled into a small cup, which the Hierophant raised to the sky. "I am your slave! I am your tool! I am your weapon! I am the bringer of your hunger to these worlds!" And he threw the steaming blood back into his throat." As the blood ceased to flow, he lifted the body up like a limp doll, then tossed her into the deep pit beside the altar.

There was an impossible scream, and then nothing. And the Heirophant saw, in his eyes, the distant Imperial Surgery and his greatest sacrifice, and he felt the mind of another upon his work, and he saw what was done. And with a soft, hollow breath, he whispered, "I see you, Korhandris of the Naggoroth. An old scholar of an older people. You will not take this victory from me or my God. The deaths shall fuel what is to come."

by **Tarasovka** » Tue Sep 01, 2015 12:29 pm

ToY matters: TNDF to TYCS

A number of memoranda are forwarded by the GeneralShtab (General Head Quarters, the highest uniformed operational and strategic command beneath the Vasilevs and the Minister of Defence) of the Taraskovyan National Defence Forces to their colleagues in the Triumvirate of Yut Combined Services, with a CC to the national high commands, obviously.

The message is in typical Taraskovyan fashion brief and concise and explains as follows:

Archangel Gabriel

Kuns

Dromader

Pavise

Observer

Cardinian Longhair

TNDF is ready to provide further assets to the TYCS effort itself in the systems protected by the Sunsetti Republic, asks for guidance in which assets would be required, if any.

by **Zepplin Manufacturers** » Tue Sep 01, 2015 2:04 pm

Nowhere
"She still lives. It is now confirmed that Intangibles are in play."

"We do so hate those."

"Roster?"

"None that can be trusted in this ..field to percentages within what is preferable."

"ComCon reports that Cross Party Justice is assembled and in holding position."

"Send Gesion with the stasis kit. It will at least buy time. If necessary all the time in the world”

“And Gesion?”

If the Gestalt could do a dark chuckle ...it would have.

“He is far tougher than he knows.”

“Oh ..so thats where that went.”

Rudan Prime- Two miles beneath Mount Teko- DipSec Embassy facility

He finished strapping on the last belt of his uniform, his fourth arm carefully smoothing down his epaulettes. If he was going to be blasted by the locals he was going out well dressed. Carefully inserting the last rank insert into his uniform and sliding the dipsec accreditation badge neatly into its holder above his ZMSF naval flash that now marked him as on active service, his every move now carefull, his motions precise rather than foolish.

A noise behind him and he spun slowly already guessing what would be there. Her nightie still wrapped around her she stood one hand over her mouth her eyes already betraying her thoughts.

“I know lass… But I can’t refuse them. I and my people owe them too much. You know how much”

She darted over to him and wrapped around him whispering over and over her voice bouncing back to the slums.

“Damnt damnit damnit, you come back you hear me Gesion? you come back! you don’ go and git killed by that daft boy!”

Gesion looked into her eyes before closing his own and leaning his forehead into her.

“Will do my best love”

There was nothing jovial or comic about the ZMSF admiral today as he strode into the imperial palace to the nearest flunky. He no longer processed or juddered, or japed. The Landsquid warrior admiral, all four tons of him wrapped in corporate military logos and rank identifiers stared down his beak at the Roanian. It was a long way down.

Now he looked exactly like what he was, sans masks. He did not bellow. His voice however was far lower than any humanoids. It reverberated. It traveled. Echoing down hallways far further than it should. It unsettled. Gently lowering the gestalt identification to show he was not going to speak as himself but for the state into the eyeline.

“Interview. ASAP.”

by **Dread Lady Nathicana** » Tue Sep 01, 2015 5:43 pm

When one had ties with the Roanians, one took certain ... steps to keep an eye or two on things, see how the day to day progressed, observe the changes in their various operations and such. Even if from a distance, there was quiet monitoring. And of course, on Rudan Prime, there was the clothing industry that had slowly been building up, as leadership and market allowed, and various ... other persons who had been gradually making contact with the local flavor. But what was important is that there were eyes and ears available, whether it was out of duty, or for a price. And they were regularly used.

When Events were being held, said eyes and ears were more closely-tuned to the goings on, and more communication was had between Rudan Prime and various Dominion holdings. Bad news travels fast, they say. And when people were waiting to hear and pass it on, even faster. Such things were not hoped for. Anything but. Feared, was closer to the truth, given some of the concerns of leadership, and others.

Not only was the message released to the news services sent on, but reports of ortillery strikes, and the loss of communications, and their own personal takes on the situation as it stood. Few were as positive in view as the news release. Decidedly few.

News from other sources was monitored as well, and as the minutes ticked by, discussions ensued, meetings were called, and proposals framed. There were always contingencies. There were no exceptions.

Having gotten and sent briefs back and forth between the proper alliance lines to get a feel for what was going on in those directions, the beginnings of a plan began to come together. And as might have been expected from the Dominion, even being under new management, it was somewhat circumspect in nature.

A portion of their own fleets would depart immediately for the vicinity where Roanian and Trium forces were currently facing one another down, and gently but firmly intersperse themselves between the main focus of Thanh-Tonh. The message sent out to both sides would be that they were there as an observation force, operating independently, to assure various interests that nothing accidental or untoward happened to ... well, happen.

The hope of course, was that there would be some slight confusion as to just where the Dominion forces stood. In placing themselves somewhat between the two potentially-opposing groups, it would be clear enough they were not exactly standing with their allies. Nor were they exactly standing against the Roanians. In fact, some would engage in what appeared to be standard practice runs of various systems - none of which, of course, included going live with any weapons, though they made up for it all with the clever use of lights and lighted code sent between the individual ships that ran, during those small exercises, on radio silence. Their intent to casually engage in these nonthreatening and visually-intriguing (at least to some) exercises, would of course also be communicated to both sides, openly, in the usual polite Dominion manner which at the same time suggested they would continue whether it was particularly welcome or not.

The CINCTYCS ... did not, as it turned out, appreciate that.

After a brief discussion about stability, Charter, the likelihood of unbalancing things further, and 'bad optics', communications were made clear. And further, clarified for the Roanians as well. As it turned out, the Dominion was not flying under Trium flags, but under those of the NDA - something that had been a benefit, and a right pain in the ass for certain allies over the years. In this particular case, and as it was presented via open channels after the more private discussion, the Dominion fleet wanted to make certain that freedom would not be 'spread by the sword' in this situation. Trium Charter ideals aside. It was a rare occasion that the Dominion's non-democratic ideals came into conflict with those of their more democratic, or at least less dictatorial allies. This, it appeared, would be one of them.

From Devras, a request for a face to face meeting, or at the very least, permission for leadership to disembark on Rudan Prime to offer assistance at best, or condolences and advice at worst, to the beleaguered Emperor, was made, with the well-wishes of the entire empire for the speedy recovery of the Empress and consort of the Shenqin Emperor, Lord of TenThousand Years.

And in Devras, a young woman paced, having mentally placed her cards on the table before herself, and accepted that there were things that may have to be done that she did not want to do.

There were ties, she'd sensed, that others may not be aware of. She had promised Ai-Qien, had she not, to do what she could? And Damalin ... not the monster some said, she had been assured, in spite of the reports coming in, in spite of the fears. She thought she understood. When the question had come to her, from Calabrese of all of them, on what her mother would do if put in the same situation? The answer had been simple, and immediate.

What wouldn't she do?

If she'd have had to burn through entire worlds to have her vengeance, she would. It was part of what had been slowly burning in her own mind, gradually driving her further and further towards the choice to run, Naiya had decided. It had blocked her intent away from the daughter who had always before been able to see what her mother was thinking. The anger, the pain, the impotent rage at having no target to loose destruction on. Had someone taken Devon from her, oceans of blood would not have been enough to sate her thirst for revenge. Not if she had her way. It had been a somewhat sobering reminder to the small group of Ministers and military advisers, and a disturbing echo of what appeared to be developing in the Radiant Empire, should things really go sideways.

Why should a boy already madly in love be any different? In love? One might even say wholly devoted and tied on levels most could not understand to a beautiful young girl who had sacrificed all in being with him. A girl who was still in the process of becoming a woman, doing what she could for him in turn, learning how to love, how to gently use her influence to maintain the peace she had purchased in marrying him. Duty, honor, love ... and all of it wrapped up in a situation that was a right clusterfuck from start to finish.

She was going to need help. Her first call was of course, to the one her mother had trusted above all others, who had been family to her since before she had even been officially born. Who else but her aunt? All other reasons aside, there were things no one else might understand that needed to be addressed.

by **New Naggoroth** » Tue Sep 01, 2015 9:17 pm

The Closed City, Rudan Prime

Obedience to those in authority, to the strict hierarchy of nobility, was something bred into the Naggorothi from birth. A feudal society, there was always someone higher up the ladder that one would need to bow to and speak to deferentially, even among those, like both Ellenith and Korhandris, who occupied rungs rather near to the top.

So when the Emperor, even though he wasn’t their Emperor, said to kneel, they damn well did.

It was understandable that Damalin was upset. They were meddling, and Elly knew it. Worse, they were meddling in a way he wasn’t likely to understand, or trust, and that would make explaining it all the harder when the Emperor commanded that they follow him.

Ellenith and Korhandris both had been shocked to see the way that AiQien had reacted to the archmage’s lightest of aetheric touches. He hadn’t even had time to start a proper cleansing and rejuvenation ritual; just his cursory examination had set off whatever foulness had tainted the Consort. Not even the archmage had seen it’s like before, and he was certain that there was only one individual with whom he could consult who may have an inkling of what they were dealing with.

With guards flanking them to either side, the elves followed the Shenqin Emperor down the hallway from the surgery towards the throne room. Though neither betrayed any nervousness or apprehension at being summoned before the Throne, it still lurked behind the well-honed masks of both magisters.

“I’m sure you both know the drill.” The Emperor murmured as he took his seat on his throne. “But I’ll explain. I will sit here, on my throne. And you will both explain why I shouldn’t have your skin stripped from your bones.” He placed his chin in his hand and looked down at both of them. The eyes no longer flared bright enough to light a room, but they remained hot coals of anger. “But first, I would like to be reminded as to who your friend is, Miss Drakharn. And told how he got past my guards. Do be quick, I have other people I must see and a planet whose destruction will need attending to.”

Ellenith bowed respectfully, her palms held out in supplication. “Of course, majesty. This is Archmage Korhandris Couronne, one of the Loremasters of Hoeth. He came at the behest of my mother and grandfather, to act as my tutor and instructor.”

“An honour, majesty,” Korhandris spoke in his quiet, resonant voice as he too bowed respectfully.

“And to explain matters succinctly, majesty,” she continued, well aware of the thin ice upon which she tread, “We were trying to save your wife, using methods that, well… are different from those of your doctors and surgeons, though no less effective. It was prudent to do all that was possible to serve,” she added, knowing it wouldn’t hurt to add as much humility into her explanation as possible.

Damalin raised an eyebrow. “A pleasure, Archmage. You are the first of your standing to walk this world in some time. Under his own power, at least.” The Emperor turned his attention to Ellenith. “And you.” The Emperor’s voice dripped honey. Toxic honey. “I am glad to see your studies are proceeding apace, Seer. Perhaps my successor will have warning of an attack on his wife?”

He did not wait for an answer. “Lights.” The hall lit up brilliantly, blue flames dancing in shining crystals along the wall. The Emperor rose to his feet and smiled. Tightly. “It doesn’t matter. The future is not ours to see. But my mother asked for a position for you, and I was happy to oblige. I see no blame falling on you for this unfortunate…” The mask cracked, the eyes flared for a moment, but he pulled himself back in. “Accident. Yes? An Emperor must show his mercy on occasion.” And he thrust his cloak aside and his hand went to his hilt. “Of course. Mercy is a fine quality. In moderation. For the moment, Ellenith, I strip you of your name, rank and title. All of which was given you. I will consider a return when Duke Casir petitions me, as I am sure he will. Computer, screen all calls from the Drakharn family?”

Shock spread across the young noblewoman's face. That hadn't been what she expected, but was well within the Emperor's right. “Thank you for your mercy, highness,” Ellenith spoke softly as she once more bowed low, her own voice waving and strained. “But I feel I must speak once more in parting. A last warning. When that which first came for your wife comes for you, you shall find yourself alone and defenseless. I will mourn for you then, Emperor, for you chose this path willingly.”

“What Ellenith refers to, Highness,” Korhandris interjected, well aware that his student's words were likely to raise more than just the Emperor’s ire, “Is that we have made some rather frightening discoveries with regards to the attempt on your wife’s life,” he took a deep breath, at least a little confident that he may have at least piqued the young Emperor’s interest, “It is fine that we depart your realm; I must consult with the other Loremasters, to determine what is the nature of this otherworldly foe that has set itself against you. But make no mistake, majesty; this is no foe of the world, that you can slay with a sword or a gun. This is something far worse.”

Damalin stood there, hand on his hilt, and stared quietly at Korhandris. His eyes flickered, and for a moment he said nothing. “And your price for your assistance would be?” He hissed. “Would you have me lift the ban on your kind? Would you have me fill your sorcerer’s bag with the contents of my treasury or my treasure halls? What fee does the great archmage ask?”

“I would ask no great boon of you, Highness,” Korhandris intoned solemnly. “If my suspicions are correct, then the foe is indeed dire, and it threatens us all. A free hand in bringing justice is all that is required.”

“Among some of my subjects, there is a saying. Dating back to presumably before we cleansed their world.” The Emperor did, however, drop his hand from his hilt. “When a man refuses to name his price, he means to make it more than you would pay.” And the Emperor closed his eyes for a moment. “My edict annulling the adoption of Ellenith Drakharn is canceled. My edict dismissing her from her rank is canceled. My edict removing her title is canceled.” The words dropped like stone.

“I find I don’t care what your price will ultimately be, Korhandris. The madness has left me, and I understand I have you to ‘thank’. I see clearly now.” And his smile was sad. “I would, if I thought it would bring her back to me, sacrifice everyone I could get my hands on to the gods the First Dynasty I destroyed. I already have volunteers for the first victims, Archmage, and they may very well die anyway. I grow weary of their lives.” And the Emperor returned to his throne, gripping the dragon’s coils tightly. “You have your free hand, for the time being. I will give you the sign of my approval. Use it well. Do not fail me deliberately. Or I will show you what I may do despite all the magics in this galaxy standing against me.” One of the claws lifted slightly, and from within a hidden recess the Emperor drew a shining silver medallion. “Come forward, Marquise Ellenith.”

The weight of the title felt like a millstone around the young woman’s neck, but she obeyed the Emperor, and approached to kneel before him. Uncertainty clouded her thoughts. Could she do this? Korhandris seemed so uncertain before. She knew him as rather mercurial; Did he know more then he was letting on? “I serve at your pleasure, Highness,” she said softly, her throat dry.

“You, and yours, live at my pleasure, too.” Was the soft murmur in response, almost the hiss of the throne he sat upon. “You have both promised me much. Do not assume either sorcery or distance will save you. The dragon’s reach is far.” And without a word he dropped the medallion around her neck. “I would remove it and place it elsewhere, were I you. But these things must be done properly.”

Out loud, the Emperor spoke, his hand bidding her to rise. “Let it be seen and signified that Marquise Ellenith, Adopted Daughter of House Drakharn, has been given the authority and right to call upon the resources of this empire in my name. Let it be known that those serving her in this are lifted from the prohibition against sorcery, be they my subjects or not.” There was a soft, melodic chime from somewhere up above. “Go. And quickly. I have no questions, I wish no answers. Do what you must. Do all you can. And I will see to it that you and your teacher shall be quite happy with the rewards I can bestow. Fail me… well, we’ve had this discussion before.”

“By your will,” she said, able to hide the nervous gulp as she partially rose and shuffled back from the foot of the throne. The pair of them bowed respectfully once again as they made their exit, each quite glad to be away.

“That was not exactly prudent of you to provoke him like that, seshania Korhandris said to his student, using her rank as he switched to their native druhir once they had left the throne room. “But perhaps expedient of you. Now, we must make preparations to leave. We must be away to Saphery as soon as possible.”

“Will the Loremasters be able to help, issyr?” she said, also using the archmage’s formal rank, though her voice was small and almost child-like in comparison.

“Perhaps. If not, then we will seek aid amongst the Convent. If our answers are not in Hoeth, they will be in Ghrond.”

A chill shot up Ellenith’s spine at the mere mention of the Blind Tower. ’Things just keep looking up...’

by **Dread Lady Nathicana** » Wed Sep 02, 2015 3:22 pm

Naiya offered the steely-grey avatar a cup of tea as they sat aboard the comfortable living quarters aboard the custom-built Loki that had once belonged to her mother. The Revenge fit it rather well, all things considered. It certainly did bristle with the possibility of annihilation against whatever came its way, never mind the accompanying Dominion battle group.

“This could have gone better,” she observed dryly, in reference to the current situation they were on their way to attempt to resolve.

The gynoid accepted the cup, then shrugged smoothly as she took a sip. “It usually can. One supposes that it was only a matter of time before something like this happened… at least, it falls within the error bands of my probabilistic models.” One corner of her coppery lips quirked upwards slightly as she leaned back comfortably in her chair. “What the models didn’t expect was an actual Charter invocation crisis. Total annihilation is not--at least, was not--in the usual Reixanxi playbook. Of course, if someone had let me know that he had even less regard for others’ privacy than I…” She glanced over at the third occupant in the cabin.

He was, for lack of a better word, remarkably unremarkable. He was an ambiguous shade of brown, as were his eyes and conventionally parted hair of medium, yet conservative, length. He carried a physique of average fitness, and failed to either be tall or short. Even his name, Fulan al-Fulani, meant absolutely nothing to anyone beyond ‘that guy.’ “Privacy isn’t my trade,” he said simply, “outside of my own. I’m sure you’ve looked over the transcripts of their correspondence?”

“Seeing how you included one she sent from home,” S.H.O.D.A.N. noted, “it doesn’t seem like you simply bugged her desk.”

“Trade secret,” he replied with something just short of a sense of humor.

Naiya half smiled as she poured another cup, offering it to the gentleman. “In some cases I would say ‘ours is not to question why’, but that would go against our natures. For now at least, I suppose we ought to see what can, and what cannot be done, and go from there. I know what I’d like to do is somehow reverse time and prevent this from happening at all, but …” She shrugged slightly. “We’ll stick to at least somewhat realistic, yes?”

“With two small-g goddesses around, ‘realistic’ is a very broad spread of options,” al-Fulani almost quipped after taking up his cup with a short, seated bow. “As the local average Ivan, I’d like to recommend pulling out the entire bag of tricks on this one.”

The young woman looked slightly troubled at that suggestion, though she covered in part with a sip of her own cup of tea. “Aunty,” she began reflexively, “I would imagine that your prime concern would be Ai-Qien, given your abilities in medicine. Perhaps we could split our attentions on the pair of them, and signore al-Fulani … you assist with the more diplomatic angles initially at least? I would hope we don’t need to let too many know we’re there and well … meddling. Or even how we are.” Her expression was partially hopeful, partially resigned as she looked at the both of them.

“I am beginning to have my doubts whether or not Ai-Qien’s problems are solely medical,” the avatar mused. “Even if they are nominally slightly frailer than a baseline human, they still have extremely powerful regenerative capabilities. If the attack didn’t kill her outright, she should have already entered a recuperative state by now.”

“Poison,” Fulan said.

“It would be very strange for any conventional poison to have this level of latency. I’ll have to see it for myself… which does support your initial plan,” S.H.O.D.A.N. said with a smile to her niece. “As I am already the outsider, I can take the blame for any mysterious occurrences. It isn’t a secret, after all, that I do more than dabble in the unusual.”

“I’m not sure I’d be the best at diplomacy,” al-Fulani admitted noncommittally. “I can certainly run point for you two, but my skillset tends more towards the investigative side of things. Since the good Queen here can’t do her usual be-everywhere-at-once trick, I can use my connections to maybe put some things together.”

“Exactly. Interference, digging for information while at least appearing to be there to help smooth things over?” Naiya both stated and asked at the same time. “What better cover than a representative diplomat to just ‘keep things nice and friendly’? Well, other than ‘not seen at all and operating purely from the shadows with none the wiser’, I suppose.”

She sighed and took another sip. “I admit, I’m more than a little hesitant for a number of reasons, which I know you know, Aunty Shodey. There is more at stake here than the Roanians, the Tonhi, and all the rest - I know, as if that were not enough. All the same … I will do what is necessary. Call it a sense of duty on my part.”

“We don’t have the right to sacrifice millions on a matter of moral principle,” the grey-skinned gynoid affirmed. “The trick is to compromise as little as possible to achieve the required ends. Not that this is a lesson you haven’t heard before. It is a prerogative of the aged to repeat themselves.” She winked.

“Yes, Aunty Shodey,” Naiya replied with a little smile, not too unlike her more youthful responses when learning at the gynoid’s knee. Even if some of those lessons had been in mischief. “So. We do what we must, in the interest of the greater good. With the least damage all around as possible. All in a day’s work one supposes, for you,” she nods to S.H.O.D.A.N., then looks more slyly at al-Fulani. “And no doubt, you. But this is my first ‘big gig’, so to speak. At least here, in more familiar settings. I’ll focus on Damalin. I just hope that what has happened hasn’t damaged him too badly. Perhaps that’s part of the problem with Ai-Qien? Feedback of a sort?”

“So it appears,” S.H.O.D.A.N. confirmed with a small nod, wetting her lips with another sip of tea. “At least from his last letter to Mballa, his sanity is… slipping. More information would be better, of course, and the situation is still fluid. It may not do us too much good to plan too deeply before we arrive and can accurately assess what must be done.”

“Not only is it her first gig, she’ll get to learn how to make it up on the fly.” al-Fulani grinned behind closed lips. “Welcome to the big leagues, kid.”

by **Kajal** » Thu Sep 03, 2015 12:48 pm

// CFS-TYCS Interservice Datagram //

CFS DISCLASS INDIGO- DISTRIBUTION VIA TYCS-GC ONLY

-- DATAGRAM START --

//octet stream (type::CFS BMS charset::RI-EXT) RE-TT-OBSV-552:988.bspx//

Combined Federal Services Naval Vessel Shalbatana has been deployed by Fleet Intelligence to gather information on the current state of Thanh-Tonh. CFSNV Shalbatana successfully inserted platforms SPHINX and CHIMERA to the target area 13 hours ago. Observations have corresponded with those observed by the local consulate. Shalbatana is currently loitering out system in feature KGNS-5547, 1.2 LY distance from CFSFI opSec "DIRAC".

A.) Observations thus far indicate significant orbital presence, as reported by local consulate. Vids from multiple sources confirm orbital strike on communications infrastructure as previously suspected.

B.) FTL exit point matching Incorporated State signatures detected; Event simultaneous with apparent mobilization of Long Patrol and other Incorporated State assets. Event occurrence coincided with compromise of public facing SYSNET/GLONET links.

C.) Increasing activity elsewhere indicates segregation/restriction of movement of TonhI nationals elsewhere within the RE. Platform SPHINX has thus far not intercepted communications stating such; this conclusion is based off observed transits within DIRAC area correlated with reports elsewhere.

D.) As expected, no transits have been allowed by vessels other than those comprising the RE presence. Platform CHIMERA was targeted at extreme range during overflight.

Current CFS actions are to reinforce allied elements at significant population centres. Carrier groups Tikkun and Tasale have been dispatched to join Nimatojin elements at N'Xypndiltn; Group Melaea has been dispatched to Zeta Irregularis. CFS coreward 1st and 3rd elements are on standby within 30 LY.

-- DATAGRAM END --

by **Roania** » Fri Sep 04, 2015 10:52 am

Planet Tonh

"I was under the impression the local First Minister was a woman named..Niwat?" Daeri and her husband sat in the office of the man who had been introduced to them as King Thanhin VII's chief councilor, looking around the simple wooden and silk furniture. "Certainly, she was the woman who accompanied the Consort on her mission to the Sovereign, and those were her credentials at the time."

Vinh Tru Shong inclined his head in a measured fashion towards Daeri, and then clearly and specifically addressed Nesar. "Oh Honored Prince, my predecessor was indeed Niwat Sewa. It is strange that you know nothing of her whereabouts, as she told us she was traveling to Rudan Prime to attend the wedding she had helped bring about. Our assumption was that Princess," there was a momentary pause in which his eyes momentarily traveled down to a series of handwritten notes, "AiQien had kept her there to be a confidant. Perhaps Miss Niwat fled to the west?"

"Perhaps. Now, we have come here on an urgent mission. As you have heard, that Princess was attacked by a Li ThaManh. And as I'm sure you've noticed, that has made the Lord of Ten Thousand Years... unhappy." Daeri glanced out the window at the cloud of smoke still billowing from the destroyed communication's tower. "Mister Vinh, we share a common cause, I'm sure. We all would like to see justice done for the Lady on the Phoenix Throne, your princess, and we all would like the Sovereign to have no cause to do further harm to this world or its people, wherever they may live. Servants of the Department of Internal Harmony await permission to investigate and find those guilty. I know that it would be small consolation to those who suffered the Dragon's wrath, losing their loved ones to that as surely as he feels he has lost his, and without his recourse and power. But when all has returned to peace, I am sure the Throne will hear any reasonable petition and request."

"Hmm?" Vinh Tru Shong turned to Nesar once more. "Most blessed Prince, I thank you for your concern on behalf of my people, but neither you nor the Dragon Throne need fret on that part. The men who have been lost will go on to a new and superior life, I am sure. And their wives shall be found new husbands from the families of the departed. For some it may be a demotion in rank, for others a promotion. We are, truthfully, far more concerned about your Emperor than about that, as I am sure when the culprits have been found he will be most happy to repair our communications relay."

Nesar raised an eyebrow and glanced at Daeri, who quietly shook her head. Nevertheless, the Prince enfolded his hands across his lap and into his voluminous cloak.

"Then we have your acknowledgement? I will inform the ship." The Secretary bowed. "I will return in a moment." Standing, Daeri walked to the wooden door and out into the muggy tropical air.

"Your wife is a very... vocal woman, most blessed Prince. I assume from your silence that she was speaking your words, and with her approval." Vinh Tru Shong smiled and leaned forward. "But now that she has left the room, I must tell you that we have seen your Emperor's madness in young men who have lost their first wives before. A restoration may prove difficult, but should he regain his senses we can act to prevent a recurrence. I speak, of course, as one man of worth to another."

"Do go on, Mister Vinh. It has proven... unfortunate in the past, and if you have found a preventative, you owe it to all your people, here or elsewhere, to share it." Nesar slipped forward to indicate close attention.

"Well. The woman alone is a drain upon a man's Khin, what you term Chen. She simply takes it and holds it to her, binding him. That is what our sages have learned. The great hope of the soul trapped in a female body is to hold tight to masculinity so the chance of becoming male in the next life is greater. Therefore, this influence must be guarded against. Do you follow?" At Nesar's nod and slight smile, Vinh Tru Shong continued. "But with two women, the effect is halved, not doubled. With three, again it is lessened. With four, and so on. This is why our King has many wives, you see. His power must be maintained, if not strengthened."

"And your preventative for my Sovereign?"

"Our King has many young daughters and grand-daughters. None, perhaps, so graceful or as mature as the currently sick Princess, but her younger siblings will more than make up for their lack in years in their eagerness to please. And the King is pleased to offer them all as the foundation of an Imperial Harem. I have their files and pictures here, if you please. As a confidant of the Emperor you would know best which ones would serve his needs and perhaps distract him from this sickness." Several scrolls and photographs were dropped on the table.

Nesar glanced at the pile of images and then to Vinh Tru Shong. "Younger siblings, you said?"

"Regretfully, all her older siblings have been assigned husbands already. It would not... be as easy to do. We would have to remove the husbands in question..."

"Younger, then." Nesar's finger twitched slightly and he smiled. "I see. I have a counter-proposal, which I feel I owe my sovereign to make."

***

Daeri was standing outside when the screams began, talking to the ISU captain up above. She paused, adjusted her volume, and continued. "As you can hear, my husband is enjoying the local hospitality immensely. We'll want you to land in the central courtyard here, it should fit the shuttle. From there we should quickly have most of the palace covered." There was one last piercing scream and the lights in the office flickered. "No, no, everything's fine. Now, we're not expecting to find anything in the Palace connecting more of the Li Family to this, but the sooner we can eliminate them the sooner we can move on. Await further orders." The door slid open and Nesar stood there, his clothes as carefully arranged as ever, carefully dabbing his lips with a handkerchief. "Husband, you've missed a spot. Here." Submitting meekly to his wife's ministrations, the Dragon's Hand let her clear the redness from his cheek. After that housekeeping was finished, she tsked. "Beastly racket these jungle animals make at night."

A few Tonhi Royal Guards wandered over, their primitive rifles carelessly slung in their hands. "Everything alright? We heard shouting."

"I'm afraid our discussions, though successful, were somewhat loud. Nothing to fret about, guards." Nesar pointed to the city. "But that last bit of shouting was my wife's fault. The Minister told us he had a long-standing and urgent appointment that he simply could not put off, and she... well, you know how women are. He's gone off that way. Perhaps you'll catch him, but I doubt it. Off at a full clip." Disgruntled, the royal guards checked the office, found no sign of the minister or of a struggle, and walked off while Nesar received a blow to the shoulder from his wife.

"Long-standing appointment he simply could not put off, husband? How women are, husband?"

"I'm afraid it's an appointment none of us may put off indefinitely, wife, though I do try." And Nesar touched her cheek a genuine affection. "And I told them that because it becomes increasingly clear to me that the men in these parts don't understand how women are. Now, we have a meeting with their putative King to get to. Shall we be on our way?"

Zepplin Manufacturers

Imperial Palace Reception and Conference Halls

"Honored Ambassador. The Sovereign asked me to remind you that he no longer is willing to meet with foreigners under ordinary circumstances. At his command, though, I am asked to determine what you feel is so urgent that it needs his immediate attention. Should I be satisfied, I am to lead you into the inner palace and before the throne if that is your wish." The Chamberlain, a short Reixan in intensely ceremonial robes, bowed low to the ground and stood, awaiting words.

by **Oyada** » Sat Sep 05, 2015 7:15 am

“Bring Mobile Groups twelve and forty-one off Combined Fleet readiness and attach them to the Tanton Force. Assign Mobile Group nine to take their place in the Combined Fleet. Activate Mobile Groups... eleven, twenty and twenty-nine. That should give us enough force available to deal with any unexpected eventualities.” Kanatar Reiso, C-in-C Combined Fleet, rubbed his grey-haired chin thoughtfully, staring at the enormous galactic chart projected before him.

“It weakens the Combined Fleet. If the enemy decides to attack us while so many Mobile Groups are deployed and we haven't begun full mobilisation...” Admiral Vannerman, a lean old salt who, like Kanatar, had served his time in destroyers and cruisers during the Belt Wars, kept his eyes locked on the map, darting over dispositions. Enemy in red, Oyadan and allied in green. There were very few green points, clustered in their little corner of the galaxy, with a scattering showered across the rest of its space; bright accumulations shone out around the Sol system and a few others.

“We can't press them for mobilisation again,” Kanatar admitted ruefully. “They'll howl at the disruption. Not to mention the cost of getting all those auxiliaries out again. We must use what we have.

“In that case, we'd surely be better off deploying the S-boats in numbers instead; they can act independently, and won't cream off forces from the home defences.”

“And they're invisible. That's the problem.”

“A show of force?” Vannerman frowned, tanned and leathery skin creasing. “It's a bluff; if we know it, they probably know it too.”

“Not a show.” Kanatar swept over the map, and after a moment's thoughtful pause, the machine complied with his request and zoomed in on the Tonhi system. “This is the fulcrum, from the Empire's standpoint. The fate of these soaiti is unimportant; the fate of the Roanians is not. Our interest lies in discouraging attacks against them. Their worlds and their fleets, in particular.” Unbidden, a petty officer appeared with two large glasses of very pleasant Dominion wine, which Kanatar and Vannerman took without a word. “Our presence should free Roanian forces for elsewhere, assuming they have the good sense to use it.”

“Which seems improbable, you know,” Vannerman replied with a wry smile, sipping the blood-red drink appreciatively. “They're almost as guarded as us. And with that boy king of theirs, they're less rational in their paranoia than they ever were.”

“He is, you mean”, Kanatar sneered, then shook his head. “Politics. A low occupation for men like us. At any rate, if we do divert those two Mobile Groups, what does that bring us up to in surface strength?”

“If they have their full strength?”

Kanatar stared at the map, growling. “They damn well ought to!”

“Six battleship divisions, four cruiser divisions, three destroyer divisions plus one independent squadron, once the commands are unified. I think it would be wise to do so, come to that. You don't want any carriers?”

“I doubt we'll need them. Besides, it might give the Roanians the wrong idea if we turned up with ships designed for planetary superiority.”

That paranoia again. Neither needed to repeat it. Vannerman stared moodily into the wine.

“There must be someone else who doesn't care for the 'civilising' impulse of the Triumvirate, but who isn't quite so primitive as these so-called reizhanzhi.” Kanatar nodded slowly, giving his old colleague a wry smile. “But that's for someone else to find.”

“We could... justify it, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Vannerman went on, finishing up the wine; “Those S-boats are just sitting around on the dockside. We have could have twenty to thirty moving within two days, on station in three or four. We could begin observing Roanian movements quite nicely, since they're unlikely to inform us of what they're doing. It would forestall any surprises they might have planned for us.

“And if they were found?”

“They'd get shot to pieces,” Vannerman replied with a small shrug, “and probably cause a diplomatic catastrophe. Unless, of course, they were there with permission, and professed goodwill. A rearguard, if you will.”

“I'll fire it upstairs,” Kanatar replied thoughtfully, and polished off his own glass. “Meantime, we should surge them to sea anyway. Deploy another ten to the Sol system and five to Tan-Ton. Quietly. I will give their majesties the censored version of our activities.”

⁂

His Imperial Majesty, meanwhile, was watching events unfold with typical weary exasperation, and reaching much the same conclusions: Roania was becoming a problem. A destabilising, anxiety-inducing problem. It was all very well wanting to keep the Triumvirate's tentacles from penetrating Oyada's society – though Naragan himself was confident that, several hundred years of Midlonian rule having failed to damage their culture too much, Yut would do little damage to it either – but the price was becoming dangerously high. They were shackled to a corpse, and forging the shackles themselves.

He called for Foreign Minister Samuzh and sighed regretfully. The business of the Empire was never done; it was eating into the jet black of his hair and the tall, strong bearing of his spare frame, bending him slowly beneath its mass. He could leave the cabinet to decide, but he still had to give approval to every decision, in the end; and if he must approve, then he must understand. The Imperial portrait of his father watched his efforts to do so, with the approving smile he had often worn, and Naragan Shokiwe, despite the fatigue and the grit-blasted burning of his eyes, was content.

by **Scolopendra** » Sat Sep 05, 2015 9:15 am

TYCS StratNet

After yedecemi of preparing for various threats, contingencies, and operational plans, it was perhaps almost soothing for certain functionaries in the Combined Services to see the StratNet working smoothly. The Ardan balloon had only slightly gone up once and then went down (perhaps permanently) in a particularly brain-sliding way; the Antarans had never developed as a threat; the Time Hole Incident resolved itself; but now, in response to a regional contingency that was the entire raison d'etre of the TRIPWIRE system--albeit one activated decades before predicted probable by CompWANCC--it worked pretty well, even with the integration of new members.

As such, it dutifully accepted the intelligence Shalbatana acquired and transmitted it back through the system in varying levels of completeness. Division and component level commanders in the field received basic news updates stripped of intelligence details. Theatre-level G-2 staffs received summaries of details. IntelWANCC and TYCSHQ-level G-2 received complete transcripts. Given the nature of the intelligence, and the Kajali tendency towards security and confidentiality post-Time Hole, the open-source intelligence community was left out of the loop. They'd have to keep getting their news from the Incorporated State, for the most part.

Dominion mobilization for 'previously scheduled exercises', after being clarified at the highest levels, gave the CINCTYCS the opportunity to give one of his extremely rare public press conferences. In short, he explained that "the Triumvirate's posture at the current point in time is purely defensive" and that "expansion of the ideology of several Triumvirate members is not, and has never been, part of the Combined Services' mission." He could further reiterate that "the Combined Services' current stance is calculated around its best understanding of underlying international realities: specifically, that a physical presence over Thanh-Tonh--which is in any case inside the Radiant Empire's sphere of influence, no matter what individuals or groups may think of its actual or ideal sovereign status--would only serve to destabilize the situation and thus, in all probability, cause the very crisis it would have been deployed to prevent." It was, perhaps, an open admission that the Combined Services considered Thanh-Tonh impossible to be saved should the Empire act to its fullest strength, but that would be qualified by "charitable auxiliaries organized primarily through SPIR, are being prepared to support various post-crisis contingencies" and "local defenses relevant to the current crises are being reinforced and appropriate responses prepared should aggression against Triumvirate citizens occur." Sucka don't want no trouble, sucka don't get no trouble.

The system noted the rapid transit of a Dominion courier mission supported by a protective flotilla, complete with flags indicating potentials for National Contingency Black and an Intelligence Contingency Black-Minor. The latter didn't count for anything for anyone, since that was an automated flag for anywhere S.H.O.D.A.N. had any presence, which was everywhere. Nevertheless, it did note the transit and pass along the information to component-level commanders patrolling relevant sectors, carbon-copied to Walks-With-Pride personally.

Similarly, the system made full use of its connection to Taraskovyan networks to coordinate operations, as requested by the TNDF. The network itself, despite being multilingual, had no giggles to suppress at any names and simply connected the relevant portions of the TNDF to the relevant portions of Walks-With-Pride's strategic staff. After running the numbers, said staff came to the conclusion that a few more ships spread between two systems would provide no distinct advantage and so returned their decision to the TNDF, thanking them for their readiness for assistance, concurring with their assessment of the situation, and requesting that the current Terebonka Naval Depot forces remain on-site to act both as local defense and as a ready reserve force in the case of the Radiant Empire actually attacking beyond its own borders. At the same time, the system officially informed all Triumvirate member national military authorities--even the Dominion's--that the Triumvirate's current defensive strategy would consist of defense-in-depth, concentrating strength in key systems and using the size of the Periphery and Radiant drive inefficiency outside of the Empire as force dividers for any hostile action. As the spheres of Roanian and Triumvirate influence did not particularly overlap, this was a Periphery-to-Periphery fight; as such, whoever made the first move beyond their own borders would be at a disadvantage. Second-strike emphasis, therefore, was the most logical policy: first to deter said disadvantageous first strike, and second to prosecute any conflict should the first strike occur.

Despite all this, with everything occurring as per procedure and nearly everyone being very serious about their jobs, the overall gut feeling across the StratNet ended up as 'things are not as bad as they could be.' Depending on the decision tree, the regional conflict could escalate into a general war depending on the probable reactions of different parties, but there were also many ways that it could be defused or derailed. What particularly stood in the Triumvirate's defensive favor is that, by all regards, no one with any authority and sufficient sanity actually wanted a conflict, and most actors' needs were simultaneously well-defined, well-understood, and not mutually conflicting. Quite a lot hinged on the Triumvirate reaction to any bombing of Thanh-Tonh (which, at the current point, would be 'none militarily') and whether the Radiant Empire attacked Triumvirate worlds. Prediction of reactions to reactions grew, of course, less reliable with each branch in the tree. The not-quite-gestalt of network settled on a 'sort it out in the air' approach to these.

After all, it could be worse. HELLSING wouldn't have to be involved.

by **Roania** » Sat Sep 05, 2015 7:34 pm

Automated Message to all Foreigners

Halt! Know now that you have entered the heart of civilization! Show respect, show your awe, and obey the law, and all will be well. If your aim is mercantile, inform Communications Channel A1.7B and await a preliminary cargo scan. Further instruction shall be given following. All other vessels are permitted to proceed to the Great Watch Station, where you will clear customs, be granted travel papers, and be provided passage to the surface. Make no hostile moves towards Imperial Vessels or fellow travelers, and all shall be well. Our Sovereign, may He reign for Ten Thousand Years, is a Hospitable Lord. Do not abuse His hospitality.

System Central, Rudan Prime and Rudan Secundus transit and orbits

Everything could almost be normal, except for the constant coming and going of warships, their engines glowing an eerie blue as they faded in and out of reality in clouds of crystalline shapes. Besides those, there was a greater variety of imperial vessels than usual, designs and colors from across the Inner Sphere signaling that the elite of the Empire were coming to heed their master's call. Conspicuously absent were any of the older ships of the Tonhi.

Response to the Imperatrice's Request from Chamberlain Hael Selese

"The Lord of Ten Thousand Years has directed that only those who have been presented in the past may cross the threshold of the Palace, and then only with need. You and the associate noted here as Queen S are welcome, if you will trust your security to the Imperial Guards and the Guards of the Dragon, but the Lord has given no orders regarding those unknown. In a token of cooperation, on my own authority I will permit the man listed as Doctor Fulan al-Fulani to wait in the rooms surrounding the Courtyard of Merriment. If the Lord of Ten Thousand Years then requests Doctor al-Fulani's presence, I will escort him to the Inner Palace myself."

Response to Erika -- Warning Communications frequency override

"I have bought your request to the Sovereign. The Lord of Ten Thousand Years indicates that as it please her, Mrs. Demi Love may stand before the throne, but her companions are not known to him. On a personal note, the Lord of Ten Thousand Years extends his belated congratulations on your marriage, Mrs. Love and Silaco, and I hope it will not be remiss if I offer my own. Ten Thousand Years of Joy and Love to you both. Now, where was I... Ah, yes. If it will..."

"Thank you, Chamberlain. I will take it from here. Go back to making sure anything easily breakable is locked away."

"Miss Ma, I am doing my job."

"And I will take full responsibility to the throne for everything to come from me not letting you do so."

"As the child said to the nursemaid. Very well, on your head be it, is the expression I believe. Ladies, good day."

"Secretary-General! Mrs. Love! Oh, thank... can't say that here. Well, thank you for coming! It's been awful! Come to my office. Please. I can get you and anyone else you'll need into the palace if you need to go. I'll send the instructions to the shuttleport immediately!"

by **Sunset** » Sat Sep 05, 2015 9:41 pm

SDF-Unconquered Sun, Deep Space, Near the Rudan System...

"You know I don't like this shit," Fidelo complained, running one hand through his tied-back black hair while the other cradled a heavy rifle over his forearm. The Admiral looked ill-at-ease but still the professional as the hologram remained as tensely still as the man on the distant ship.

"And I don't like the idea of sending my wife in there as some kind of professional hostage, but that's how the job works."

"And if something happens, I'll get her out," he promised before closing the connection.

It was a conversation that was taking place behind the subject's back. The Ambassador was already away; Dispatched aboard a Transit-Class Shuttle that was just now disappearing from the Unconquered Sun's immediate sensor range as its short-range space-warp drive took it from far outside the system to the normal arrival point that the Roanians preferred. That it was a short-range shuttle would not be unnoticed but that was just as much the point. The flagship and her arriving escorts would wait and watch while the Ambassador, perhaps most importantly, listened. There were already plenty of others there with the express intention of solving the problem - she would be there to make sure that if the situation changed it either changed in the Republic's favor or that they were ready for whatever that change might be. It would be reading the diplomatic tea leaves but that was her job, no matter how much Erika would have liked to have made it otherwise.

"And I must put forth my full formal protest that they didn't invite me!" Erika turned to the other Ambassador not-in-the-room, the roly form of Ambassador Penguin. He glared at her with his beady black eyes but she only glared back; "And you don't know how tempted I am to memory-swap you with Solid right now. So shut up."

----

Thang Long Citadel, Near D'Zytendi City, N'Xypndiltn...

They were still there but Tradia remembered little of it. The blood-surge of adrenaline as she'd swept through the caves and tunnels that bored their way through the rock had drowned most of it out but they had been there. Bodies discarded as casually as one might toss aside clothes, hung up on the wall to be displayed in bloody agony until the moment their life fled them, spread out on tables and altars for whatever dark delights the gods had desired to take of them. All of it had been washed away in the flicker-pulse of rifle fire and the screams and curses of the living idols as they died the deaths they had promised they could not.

Nothing had been done to cleanse them but, as the Inspector had asked, was it deliberate or simply convenient?

There was little sign that the inhabitants of the Citadel had wandered the passages below their keep. Here and there dusty footprints from some time ago could be found that then overlapped the deep impressions left by the rapid passage of two Xypndi warriors on a mission of revenge and liberation, but these seemed nothing more than aimless wanderings and for the most part they avoided the more grotesque areas with limited exceptions. Where the tunnels would have emerged from the volcanic spire they had been, baring again a single exception, they had been sealed up with a rough stone wall or a barricade drawn from the shattered wooden tables and benches the two had left in their wake. These were then universally covered by an interior wall that disguised their presence and concealed the tunnels from the world seemingly forever.

Except for one.

'Perhaps it is most telling that the one entrance to these dens of savagery was through the closet of Prince Nesar himself,' Inspector Min allowed himself a small smile, though the smug expression was still tainted by the reality of what he had just witnessed.

They were outside the closet now, away from the robes and everyday clothes that had still hung there or lay carefully folded on their shelves to await his return, and back in the darkness of the winding tunnels and the narrow footprints that led hesitantly into the darkness.

'These aren't his, though,' Tradia stated, ducking back through the hidden door and returning in only a moment with the plainest portion of the Prince's wardrobe - a pair of ordinary tennis shoes. 'I'm not sure he plays tennis;' she didn't either, but she knew of it via holovision, 'But these aren't his footprints,' She laid the pair alongside the dusty tracks as an example.

'A guard;' And it was the most obvious answer, but something tugged on the Inspector to pursue the matter further. The light and cool comfort of the mock-palace might have beckoned but answers, in his experience, were often found in darkness. 'Let us retrace his steps.'

Here and there they wandered as they followed the tracks until they came to one area in particular that interested the Inspector; An ordinary storeroom in a nightmare world. Workbenches were arranged to one side and the rotting remains of one of the ceremonial masks that had deceived her people for untold generations lay unfinished on the rough tabletop. More supplies of the god's nefarious trade were carelessly stacked here and there and a series of baskets hung from the ceiling; The local version of shelves. It was here that the footsteps stopped to move here and there and it was here that the Inspector and the Adjutant stopped as well.

'Simple theft, or something more?' Min asked as he placed his feet inside those of the other, moving his hands from surface to shelf and back as the intricate dance continued.

Tradia's voice curled in disgust, 'I've seen these before. These were the ceremonial vessels that the gods would bring with them as the ceremonies began. Lots of smoke and strong smells and then everyone would start to feel sleepy. I remember... Not much. But they would tell us to do things and we would. Kill our Elders, take our own life. Butcher another tribe;' Rage crept into her voice, 'Everything we did to them, they deserved.'

'Perhaps someone was interested in the how,' Chen answered, moving from shelf to shelf collecting samples. 'Someone determined enough to wander a charnel house...'

by **Oyada** » Tue Sep 08, 2015 3:06 pm

Official messages summoned Ambassador Edward Pethbrigg from his overburdened bed with all the grace and poise of a drunken, ice-skating elephant, and instructed him and his comfortably long-suffering assistant Zhilra to find themselves a conference with the nearest Roanian representative as soon as one might be arranged. The missives were blunt in their statement of the Empire's position: Defence of Roanian assets would be undertaken as appropriate, and the Empire's goodwill was guaranteed, but The Lord of Ten Thousand Years' little fracas over the Tonhi (not to mention his ineptly transparent attempt to lure them home like pigs to the sausage factory) was causing problems. Problems overseas, which were inevitable thanks to the duplicity of all nations in their dealings with others; and worse, problems at home. The Radiant Empire was to be reminded, politely, that while it might consider itself the apex of civilisation, it wouldn't last very long against the barbarians if it simultaneously augmented their ranks, and diminished those of its allies. It was what soldiers and strategists called 'asking for trouble'. While those same soldiers and strategists wanted to know where the Roanians wanted them to place the three Mobile Groups already in-situ near the beleaguered Tonhi system, their political masters were beginning to wonder whether the Radiant Empire was help or hindrance.

While Pethbrigg, thus occupied, did his best to locate an appropriately ranked Roanian on the sprawling but sparsely populated station, Zhilra had her own work to do. She set off toward the Grummian representative’s office at a brisk walk, green eyes quietly devious, and grinned lupinely. There weren't many keiti whom most Oyadans could stomach, but it was hard to find one who spoke badly of the Grummians. It was time to see where they stood in relation to the descending sanity of the ascended Emperor Damalin.

by **Roania** » Tue Sep 08, 2015 3:44 pm

The Imperial Offices were clean, tidy and well-lit. Blue flames danced in little crystal sconces on the wall, shining far brighter than would have seemed possible. The woman sitting behind the desk looked up from an array of hovering lights and floating documents, saw who had come in, and rose to her unimpressive height, then bowed. She was dressed formally, a thin silk dress covered with a tight cloak. "Ah. Let us be crystal, Mister Prethbrigg." The words were almost accentless. "I know why you have come, and I will spare you the effort of arguing with me." She raised an eyebrow and took in his sodden form, then tsked to herself.

"The position of the secretariat, as has been relayed to me, is that this matter is an internal security matter. I have no position to relay on those, nor will the Foreign Secretary have any power to act on messages that I may send, assuming she has recovered from her hospitalization by the time that message reaches her." She shook her head and shrugged. "I am a diplomat, Mister Prethbrigg. I am here to offer advice, to share my opinion, and to speak the Sovereign's will on matters that come up in council." Another shrug. "It is a job, and a quiet one at times. You'll probably want to call Rudan Prime. I am deeply sorry for my inability to help." Another bow.

by **The Boundless Legion** » Tue Sep 08, 2015 4:36 pm

With very precise instructions locked into their flight computers, the transports Little Jack and Lucky Strike each descended from the bays of the Legion Dreadnoughts, and coasted towards the surface of Rudan Prime.

Communications were terse, short-range bursts between ground control and the boats.

Between each other, they weren't much more either.

"What exactly did you have in mind, Commander?"

"Can't say I know for sure, Captain, I haven't had to play this particular role often. At all, for that matter.

"Just remember. Be easy. Much as action is desirable, steady hands clear a minefield. You don't rely on your shields to take the brunt of everything or you're sunk, ye?"

Silence, again.

"I really hope nobody's done anything stupid while we've been talking," muttered Marcus, and the comm went dead once more.

by **Zepplin Manufacturers** » Wed Sep 09, 2015 7:04 am

Rudan Prime

A slow squid eyeblink before leaning backwards towards the sky for a moment then a deep rumbling sigh. A diplomatic document is withdrawn from a pocket somewhere on his uniformed bulk, amazingly deftly handled and unfolded for a creature of his size and dressed with dip-sec seals. Rather than a tearing of wax on thick paper with a neat click it opened and unfolded itself out to the size of a newspaper, more logos and seals gently lighting up on the surface facing towards the Chamberlain.

“Firstly, formally I am to convey our deep sorrow over the attack. Secondly I am to give an alternative if requested to the present course of treatment. The mega freighter Purveyor of Profit is coming here on direct jump from sol. It amongst other things is carrying a full colony ship stasis coil. If artificially induced temporal processionary halt is insufficient it is also carrying an exhibit from the central fleet museum in the majority of her cargo bays. It’s a replica of a system ship from the STL days with modern safeties.”

“The Gestalt suspect many things about the non standard method of attack but time they believe to be beyond your present .. difficulties reach or experiences. Or rather the lack of it. Enough relativity will buy her all the time in the world and him. Enough to outlive her and his enemies if necessary. Of course for them a year, for all of you a lifetime.”

“There is a third thing, it is up to your master personally to know what that is, for his eyes alone. The Gestalt were quite clear on that.”

Now he straightened and looked the chamberlain straight.

“They also wish to remind him to live in hope even now, but recall that he will destroy her and himself just as assuredly as her enemies if he kills her homeworld. They ask him to place himself in her position when she awakes. What would he feel were he to awake and find her reigning over an empire were not a single non Tonhi officially lived except himself, where she had been the instrument of their demise, pitiless, changed into something very different and other than that what he loved by countless killings and drenched in the blood of his friends, his family and Rudan prime itself. They ask that he consider does he still want to be the man she loves or loved or something else?”

“Further they believe that if that were to come to pass that all of it had been for the acts of a few evil men who would it seems profit most from this line of existence and in all probability will have escaped, profited and had this be their most successful outcome all along, a shattered Roanian monarchy drenched in death turning on its own people and the Tonhi loyal to the empire dead. Have him ask himself this. Who profits most from the death of the Tonhi on their homeworld. Who profits most from her death. Who profits most from his own anger. Search not for the instrument, search for the one holding it.”

There was a snick as the paper folded closed on its own and its seals closed.

by **Dread Lady Nathicana** » Sat Sep 12, 2015 10:02 am

Naiya had spent the last part of their ride mentally preparing herself for whatever it was they would have to face, whatever actions they would have to take. In her seat, she meditated quietly, finding her calm, her center. When they were finally ready to disembark, her face was an outward reflection of peace, if seriousness.

She lead the way down the ramp onto the Roanian shuttleport, looking around expectantly to see what they had to deal with initially. The hulking ogres and their enormous guns were a clear indication of the current mood, if nothing else. Not a good sign.

There was at least one other shuttle she didn’t recognize in the next block, so it seemed they might not be the only visitors. And it was entirely too quiet. Too tense.

“I know, cliche … but I have a bad feeling about this,” she said quietly to her companions.

“Par for the course,” replied al-Fulani, his pace as average as everything else about him. He sounded remarkably at ease--almost lackadaisical--despite the circumstances. Meanwhile, Shodey, having opted for the same neko-like avatar she used in her previous official foray to the Radiant Empire, simply nodded. Her carriage projected, as previously, a sense of being in control of the situation. It was hardly true, but that made the projection all the more important.

“I am still not used to that look,” Naiya offered her aunt, while keeping her eyes ahead on their path. There were a number of ships watching within the atmosphere as well. All eyes were on Rudan Prime in this area. Elsewhere, she hoped things were remaining calm. No word over Spook as yet saying otherwise.

“It isn’t my particular preference, to be honest,” cat-Shodey said with a slight smile, “but it works suitably well for the local culture compared to my usual expression of body-image.”

“Eventually, they are going to have to come to terms with the differences in others,” the young woman observed, even as she realized that the likelihood was small. There was simply too many years of tradition weighing heavily on too many minds to make change as simple as all that.

The palace was not some looming monstrosity of ego, and shining towers of gold as some might expect, but a collection of low wooden and brick buildings, and walls, enclosing the various structures. It was all very well-guarded, and as such, they took no detours and made no pauses on their way in. The way was familiar enough, at least to two of them, so there were no real difficulties reaching the main audience area, and whomever it was who had been sent to meet them.

by **Sunset** » Sat Sep 12, 2015 3:56 pm

Thang Long Citadel, Near D'Zytendi City, N'Xypndiltn...

'The smell is enough to drive one mad,' Inspector Min said with a grimace as he pulled the wooden cork off the top of one of the pottery jars and took a careful whiff. 'Either it has rotted or your species has a surprising tolerance for the foul.'

Tradia caught only the tail end of the odor but it was enough for her to nearly gag, putting the latter explanation into the grave, 'They masked it under the smell of burning F'Noross leaves. When they are dried and hung in bunches, they have a subtle smell but when they are wet and burned it can hide anything. It was a punishment task for the youngest warriors to toss burning bundles into the pits...' A vague memory of edging up to one of the open pits where the tribe deposited their waste, nose pinched shut and mouth firmly closed while an enormous bale burned on the end of a long stick drifted across her memory and she made a disgusting face, 'Ugh. Indoor plumbing is pretty fucking awesome, now that I think about it.'

'Amusing as your facial expressions are, I am not drawing any connecting between this and the question of Prince Nesar's involvement in the assassination attempt. Perhaps some chemist or historian will find these of interest,' he packed a small assortment of the poisons and toxins away in a pouch and hung it on the outside of his small pack, 'But we should return to our search before the guards outside become aware of our presence.'

The Xypndi agreed with a nod and the two retraced their steps to find themselves outside the closet in the Prince's grand bedroom. Even for the scale of the wealthy Republic it was grandiose, with a raised platform surrounded by drawn curtains and another layer around the bed itself. All of these were tied back for the moment, secured to pillars that also carried thick beams that crossed the room and were carved into shapes both fantastic and delicate. Bronze rings with tassels wound through them hung from the mouths of dragons and other fantastic creatures and the walls were all decorated with hand-painted panels of thick paper in similarly carved frames. In an alcove was a desk and chair arranged to face a small circular window that looked out to the distant hills and here was where the Inspector concentrated his attention.

'In the Empire, there might have been some scraps of paper or draft copies to alert us to his correspondence but here, far from his homeworld... There is something missing here.'

'What?'

'A link,' Min looked around the desk as though something so ethereal might suddenly emerge. 'Supposing he was involved or even aware of the attack, how was he? It is not as simple as writing a note to be passed off by an unknowing courier. Either he would have to use the communications link to Thanh-Tonh;' Which they both knew had been destroyed, though the when didn't have a direct impact on their investigation, 'Which I can assure you is monitored by our intelligence services if not by your own, or the letter would have had to be taken to Thanh-Tonh by courier. For security I would choose the latter. But the Prince has wisely taken his correspondence with him. But,' he slid a drawer open, 'Not all of it.'

Inside was a bundle of carefully arranged pieces of paper that didn't seem to bear the Prince's hand at all. Instead they were print-outs of various websites that contained information that someone in the connected Republic would just leave where they had found it.

'But a Prince likes their paper. Something to hold on to while they organize their thoughts. Careful, deliberative. And,' he pulled one sheet out to the middle of the desk, 'Telling. A schedule for flights between here and Thanh-Tonh. I find it unlikely that he was planning to visit, don't you?'

A Bloody Spring (Semi-Open; TG if Unsure)

Planet N'Xypndiltn

Exposition!

For Scolopendra

Planet N'Xypndiltn, Safehouse

Intent to Enter the Fray, so to speak ...

En Route Planning -- Co-oped with Scolopendra

Catching Up on Things

Foreign ships arriving in Rudan Space

Brief arrival ...

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