Location: Queen's Temporary Quarters in the Temporary Capital.
Vernanda groaned as she awoke. Her body felt slightly cramped from the curled position she had to sleep in, but the bed itself was far too short for her. It was one of the beds made to the traditional length… which meant it was too short for most people these days. The fact it was also a flat board instead of the more comfortable cushion style that had been used for the past two thousand years also didn’t help. And the sheets, while warm, were far too rough a material for her tastes.
It was not long before Vernanda growled in annoyance at the bed and stood out of it, not even thinking about her nude state as she prowled over to the dressor. Like everything else, it was made for a shorter people from a far different time. Nearly ten generations had gone to their graves in the time since the traditional measurements were set, and in that time the people had grown in height and change in personality. The lost, trying their best to survive people had been replaced by a people who had mastered their environment and had grown to become as hard and wild as the land itself. Even Vernanda, descendent of the person who became known to later generations as Ilharessa Ascendant, was nothing like the peoples who had come before.
Within the mirror itself, deep blue eyes stared back at Vernanda. The eyes were partially hardened, and yet one could see the animal-like ferocity hiding just beneath their surface. They reminded the woman more of the eyes of a predator staring at you, trying to decide if you’re prey, a threat, or something to be safely ignored. Eyes that had seen far too much bloodshed in their lifetime and which could tell whether or not the skies would let loose with a torrent of rain or would keep a more sunny disposition with a single glance at the clouds. Eyes that masked a mind capable of tactics and a combat prowess seen only in experienced warriors.
Ears next drew her attention. Pointed tips that over generations had grown longer and more pronounced. Ears more capable of hearing the wind, picking up the sounds of metal on metal or wood on wood from a distance. Ears currently pierced, though lacking in the simple adornments she planned to wear soon. They, too, exuded a wildness, as though they belonged to some beast on the hunt and not an intelligent, rational person.
Next to draw her attention was hair. It was universally white for their people, and no one could explain why. And yet, at current, it was a wild bramble of tangled locks that seemed to announce a more natural power behind the person it belonged to. Even when properly straightened and decorated with tortoiseshell, feather, and other adornments, one could never shake the feeling that it was more often caressed by the wind than by hand or comb. The ends of the hair itself had been dyed a blue to match her eyes.
The next bit to draw the eyes was the face itself. Unmarked, not even by the tribal tattoos that had become common, with full lips. The face itself had the gentle curvature of a woman’s, and yet there was undeniably something that reminded one almost of a wildcat about it. Her teeth, when she smiled, revealed fangs where many species had simply canines. The fangs had proven quite capable of piercing flesh and even some light armor, and had been employed often by desperate fighters over the millennia. The fangs were also not seen in any depictions of the ancestors, leading some to believe they were one of the many adaptations to this world.
Then came dark skin, nearly the color of pitch, over a body of feminine muscles and a certain litheness. The body itself was one that, like many, had been forged by years of having to survive on a world that did not given them any quarter. And yet, her people had adapted well, becoming hardier, taller, and far more capable of survival over the generations.
All thoughts about her appearance were quickly interrupted when Incanfes entered. The woman was much like Vernanda herself, body also hardened by the generations of surviving in a region that simply wasn’t fit for life. However, Incanfes was just a bit taller than the other, with eyes of orange and hair dyed a solid red. Incanfes was also dressed, having chosen a green robe with gold embroidery. Her hair was held up in a series of small buns along the back of her head, each held in place with a pinkish-purple feather from what Vernanda could only assume to be one of the birds introduced to the southern islands. And today Incanfes had chosen to wear her tribal tattoos, which depicted spider webs going from her eyes to the lower part of her nose. Vernanda found the result of the white lines upon that face to be quite enchanting.
“Need help getting dressed, your Majesty?" Incanfes mirthfully asked.
Vernanda responded by sticking out her tongue before sighing and pulling open a drawer on the dresser. "I guess I do need to get prepared to deal with the tribal leaders. At least I don't have to worry about being killed just because my farm is in the way."
"Of course not. Now, you have to worry about being killed because they don't like your decisions," Incanfes replied. "I still do not understand why they chose you, though. I know they had to end the fighting because they nearly had open revolts in most of the tribes, but why you?"
"They needed a mediator. And, don't forget, I'm a descendant of Ilharessa herself," Vernanda replied. "Besides, remember that day four of them met to argue with the priesthood just outside the farm? How I marched out there in nothing but a nightgown and yelled at them for being too loud?"
Incanfes laughed. "Yes. And I remember how they all backed up in utter surprise. I thought you were in serious trouble! Instead, they decided to propose you for Queen!"
Vernanda chuckled. "Yeah. I remember what Giljeni said. 'If she can shout us into submission, think of what she'll do to the others.'"
"Yeah, well, I never thought they were serious on it," Incanfes grumbled. "And every week, I end up having to shout down some conflict or another. I swear, I've been ruling for only a few months and, already, I feel like it's been years. And my decisions can affect forty million people now. Not just the two or three they did before. And responsible for getting our people off this planet and back into space."
"It comes with being a leader. Now, let's see about getting you dressed..." Incanfes murmured as she slowly walked over, positioning herself slightly behind the woman and slowly wrapping an arm around...
Meanwhile, on the bridge of the ship that had carried the Ilharessans to the planet, two figures could be seen. They moved about in the gloom, with the only light coming from the single control console set into the floor. The console itself was displaying a picture of stars, feed from an old satellite they had put into orbit decades before and which now was just another indistinguishable floating piece of metal in orbit. The rest of the bridge was dark, though both women knew it to be military-grey walls and flooring from the few times they had seen it lit. Part of the floor itself was buckled, having happened when the ship crashed and which served as a constant stumbling hazard in the time since.
Sitting at the console, using a ashwood chair that had been provided to replace the one which normally sat there, was Killenes. She was typical of the priesthood, in that her skin was a dark ash in color instead of the pitch black favored by serface Ilharessans. Her ears were slightly less pointy, teeth lacking fangs, and body generally shorter and less muscled. According to priesthood doctrine, such as she were the living incarnations of what the Ilharessans, who were at the time and sometimes in the modern era known as the drowna, originally looked like. Killenes, with her undyed hair and dark black robe, didn't care. Her job was just to watch the screen and see if anything unusual popped up. It was a simple enough job. Her overseer, an elderly priesthood drowna known as Matron Fen, was currently at the back of the room, fiddling with a panel as she tried to repair the lights.
Of course, it all suddenly changed when the screen itself flashed. A picture of what looked like a ship appeared for a few seconds before the starfield was back, with text filling the screen. The text itself scrolled far too quickly for Killenes to pick up most of it, though she soon found herself seeing certain phrases she recognized over and over. The phrase, which itself was simply a description of where they are, seemed to keep repeating.
"What in the..." And then, Killenes's eyes widened. "Matron! We're transmitting! The ship is transmitting!"
Matron Fen cursed and rushed over, not even hesitating to push the girl aside and take the chair for herself. "Stupid girl! What did you do? Damn it... This is an emergency broadcast! How did you active this?"
"I didn't, Matron. It just..."
"Save your excuses, girl. You'll need them when the high priestess gets word of this. There is no possible way that anyone can ignore this transmission at the strength it's transmitting," Matron Fen said. "Damn it. Stand up! You've got to help me cut power to the bridge before it drain's the ship's core of energy. It'll take us a good thirty minutes to shut down all of the power routes."
Emergency Transmission wrote:This is Captain Belgani Ilharessa, calling for help. My ship has crashlanded upon a world and we are currently incapable of getting it off the ground. We would appreciate any aid someone can send us in helping my people get back into space so we may return home.
This message will replay in one minute
This is Captain Belganis Ilharessa, calling for help. My ship...
