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Ascent from Darkness (FT/IC/Apply in OOC)

A staging-point for declarations of war and other major diplomatic events. [In character]
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The Mizarian Empire
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Ascent from Darkness (FT/IC/Apply in OOC)

Postby The Mizarian Empire » Mon Nov 07, 2016 5:27 pm



The control station and nearby launch station were abuzz with activity. To the onlookers from a distance the site and even it's technical staff looked like no more than insects rushing to and from their work-stations. On the launch-pad itself, a singular probe sat ready to deploy. Engrim* 1 was a short and ugly little construct, but the engineers whom had spent countless hours developing and constructing her had reassured their superiors it would fly true.

"Command,Control, commencing final checklists confirm" A filth-encrusted Sularian requested. The small reptilian sat hunched over at a console not far from the launchpad itself in a reinforced bunker to assist in the calculations and controls to ensure Engrim 1 would exit the atmosphere with minimal complications before the remote systems took over. "Control, Command, confirmed, proceed with FCL." "Acknolwedge Command, Flight-systems...operational...Flight trajectory calculations...." he paused as he finished quadruple checking his work on the paper beside him."Calculations confirmed satisfactory, secondary flight patterns uploaded, removing fueling; loading clamps and walkways..." A loud hiss and K-THUNK finished outside as the scaffolding and fueling pipes were removed and retracted to their respective grooves in the launchpad for re-use. "Command, Control, retraction complete, confirm from your position?" a rapid series of 5 keys in his comms headset confirmed "Understood, Control commencing final launch countdown" he added with finality. A series of switches were pulled, highlighting the 2-hour countdown. During this time the star-craft's engines slowly whined to life like a slowly awakening beast before it's engines growled and began to glow in final preparation. "Command, Control, Final redundant flight-checks complete. Liftoff in..." 5...4.....3.....2.....1...and in that moment, the Mizarian Collective's first exploratory probe rushed through the atmosphere at hundreds of miles an hour. Onlookers screamed, whistled and shrieked in joy at the hope that their voice might be heard somewhere across the galaxy.

As the probe detached from it's atmosphere breaching stage, it's simple ion-based engines slowly hummed to life, preparing for it's several-hundred year journey. As the secondary stage finally expended it's fuel loadout, it's detachment marked the first beginnings of a true attempt at a Mizarian search for Foreign governing bodies. The process would repeat several more times, each probe carrying a simple message:

ATTENTION ALL SENTIENT LIFE-FORMS RECEIVING THESE COMMUNICATIONS, ADDITIONAL SENTIENT LIFE QUERYING TO CONTACT FOREIGN LIFE PRESENT IN THE UNIVERSE, NON-HOSTILE CONTACT SOUGHT PLEASE RESPOND TO THESE COMMUNICATIONS TO REPEAT

The message would repeat near endlessly for years to come across a series of exploratory probes. Attached to the crude devices were a series of equally primitive attempts at universal translation devices. These devices would attempt to scan and redesign the transmissions into readable information via mathematical and visual interpretations equivalent to those found aboard anomalous objects' databases (Should one be accessible and information readable). For centuries now the Mizarian collective had finally come to rest within the Sollux system. Only a handful of the original Mizarians to flee enslavement remain alive today to retell the horrors of what they formerly endured. While foreign interactions had occurred within this massive migratory fleet, open communications with foreign governments had been (startlingly) non-existent. As such, the call was put out to announce Mizarian intentions of peaceful interaction with the galaxy.

Engrim: The name of one of the first Mizarian explorers to leave the migratory fleet hundreds of years ago. It is because of his star charts (remotely transmitted back to the fleet) that the Sollux system was discovered. His remains nor craft have been found to this day.
Last edited by The Mizarian Empire on Mon Nov 07, 2016 5:31 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Fleuri and Paix
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Postby Fleuri and Paix » Mon Nov 07, 2016 6:15 pm

[Summary of FDF SIGINTSERV manual intervention xxxx.xxx-56280 via ODL SICO]

Polling of domestic ultra-long-range sensors and acquisition of syndicated data from external agencies indicated 78% probability of unusual EM activity in system designated LR-Baker-F-33.

ODL SICO requisitioned units from Shibuya Consolidated waystation in LR-Baker-C-2 to investigate.

Flashthrough probe data elevated probability of unusual EM activity to 100%. SIGINTSERV analysis suggests most likely communication; protocol unknown.

ODL SICO recommends human dispatch.




[Digest of ODL SICO response to FDF SIGINTSERV manual intervention xxxx.xxx-56280]

ODL SICO dispatch request approved.

Requisition filed with Mantarien Chancellery for operating unit.

Summary of requisition results: M– Trade Defender MGV
Meyrin (MGV-303) approved for transit.




Flashdown is fast and dirty. Meyrin is a sphere of cyan fire for a second, the illusive radiance of shield harmonics disagreeing with the disruptive spacetime of drive shutdown. The fire dissipates, cooling to azure and then to midnight blue as it fades away to reveal …

Not much. Meyrin is geometric and unaesthetic. The fuselage is entirely functional, flat matt charcoal gray with no emblem of any sort. It is octagonal (squashed), sharp-edged and stubby. The torpedo tubes, small holes running deep through the armour into the hull, are scorched black around the edges. The look contrasts strangely with the ship's armaments; five Swordfish cannons, curved and chromed, operating lights blinking like small jewels. The guns are Paixois, so they are pretty. The rest of the ship is Mantarien, so it works.

As the ship accelerates away from the dead stop of flashdown exit, the engines give a clue of its true power. Meyrin picks up speed at a very respectable rate, but the engines do not flare. They seem barely to light. If pressed, they have a kick that would floor an elephant. Good for a Trade Defender, a ship designed to be a hardy, self-sufficient, durable guardian – the only kind Mantar has. Tucked away like the backwater it is, traffic is rare and often ill-intentioned, and Fleuri is far away. Caution is never unjustified.

Meyrin shows that now. It closes to one light-second from the probe, one cannon tracking it, locked on but not yet armed. Active sensors stab out to wash over the probe like hot lights; even the visual telescope globe in the front quarter is aligned on the probe. After a long interval, the main communications dish is unfolded from its cramped hyperspace storage recess on the dorsal hull, and swings around to line up on the probe. The transmission that follows is Standard, text-only and brief:

ATTENTION – UNKNOWN SENDER – WE HAVE RECEIVED YOUR MESSAGE – WE COME IN PEACE – PLEASE RESPOND

What Meyrin's captain and crew are thinking is, at present, unknown.

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The Mizarian Empire
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Postby The Mizarian Empire » Mon Nov 07, 2016 7:27 pm

ATTENTION – UNKNOWN SENDER – WE HAVE RECEIVED YOUR MESSAGE – WE COME IN PEACE – PLEASE RESPOND


The loud chirping in Hibahm's headset had shocked him awake from his half-slumber. It had been almost 15 years since Engrim 1 and it's sisters were launched. While it had swelled the Sularian's chest with pride to undertake such a monumental endeavor, he had felt certain he would return to the ground and air far before any response came to the message he had personally sent across the galaxy no less than 23 separate times in the Engrim series probes from the bunker at Control all those years ago. Now wide awake and staring at his work-station's screen, the Sularian was uncertain what he was looking at. A part of him wanted to call the authorities, surely this was just some childish prank......yet.....

Hibahm rummaged underneath the table covered in electronic listening devices and computer equipment before finding his desired item. He dropped the massive 2,000 page folder on his work-station, shocking other personnel from their equal numbed states to look at him with deathly glares as he frantically swept through the pages, taking moments to read the measurements and message on his screen......these readings......flip-flip-flip......no....no this wasn't anything like the normal chatter from orbiting defense vessels. The time-lag between phrases also didn't match anything his peers had received from what he was reading......could.......could it actually be? The Sularian slowly removed it's headset and stared back at it's peers, their faces slowly growing concerned at his expression "We need command....I....I think I just got a response on Engrim 14!!"

The following hours would see the normally quiet observation post come to life in a manner it hadn't seen in over 10 years now. Numerous experts in communications and military experts agreed the transmission didn't match any patterns one could replicate by those on Mizarian vessels. It would later be noted in the great logs of history that Hibahm Gohtvehn had not only been the first one to attempt contact with potential foreign lives outside of escape pods or ship-wrecks, but even the one to respond to those same calls.

WE ACKNOWLEDGE YOUR TRANSMISSION, PLEASE DIRECT HEADING TO FOLLOWING COORDINATES (LINE 24,418, DISTANCE 544, DEPTH, -449)*

Line, Distance, Depth: Mizarian Coordinate systems view the universe as spherical. Lines are drawn from the center at precise intervals providing a cardinal heading, Distance indicates how far from the origin point (at the universe's center) on this Line one would travel, Depth indicates how far above or below that line (which, at the universe's very 'middle' equals 0) one would travel to reach their destination. When possible Mizarians translate this into more common headings/directions for foreign interpretation.
Last edited by The Mizarian Empire on Mon Nov 07, 2016 9:07 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Hobbeebia
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Postby Hobbeebia » Tue Nov 08, 2016 9:42 am

/// Hobbeebian Imperium Unified Armed Forces Research Vessel Craving of knowledge. Lead Researcher Scholri' Taal's personal quarters.
10 minutes before probe transmission contact.


Scholri always suffered from vivid dreams, it was her blessing and her curse. Her mind would build complex worlds and people and produce smells and flavors that she could swear were as real as the air she was breathing, and it could also produce horrid, terrifying realms of nightmares and suffering. Some said it was her gift of 'Sight' trying to show itself to her; a notion she quickly dismissed, even if it were true the last thing she wanted was to be pulled from her job she worked hard for to be placed into a citadel to be a lifeless monk locked in visions and prophecy that were oftentimes either to vague to matter or the events were not affecting the Imperium in anyway. She was young (according the Eborian standards) and she wanted to live a long, fruitful life full of love, pleasures of food and drink and seeing new, unseen cultures and peoples. For now, she slept calmly. Drifting away into her dream of fields and streams of her home. The warm breezes carrying the smell of her mothers home-made pastries through its lofty tendrils, unseen but felt to her as she lay upon the ground surrounded by the tall blades of grass and New Leaf (spring) flowers watching the tiny bits of pollen shimmer against the glow of the three stars bright blue glow. It was in this moment, even when dreaming, she felt the most relaxed she had felt in a long time, but like all good things this to came to an end.

Vibrations in the bed- the standard way to slowly rouse a sleeper from their slumber so they would be able to wake up in a more stable way. Scholri's eyes opened slowly after she closed them hard from being snatched from her dream. Her once magical home and field had been replaced with the soft but boring glow of the hardlight roof above her. much like most of the interior of the ship being a Hyperhellsion class vessel. She used to love the way the ship worked- it fascinated her. Hardlight had been a part of Hobbeebian life and culture for generations and most people had gone blind to its use throughout the Imperium. It was all mostly for civil applications, but the Unified Armed Forces developed it for military and civil use and it showed; about 95% of the vessels interior was made of the stuff. Able to be augmented and changed on the fly it was as much for convenience of making the most ergonomically use of space but was also an defensive system able to block boarders in closed sections effectively nullifying their attack on the ship and if you wanted something protected, but order the ship to erase the door to a room unless a password was given; though this required high level access to ship systems.

Good Morning Ma'am, I am terribly sorry for interrupting your sleep but there is something here I think you should see. The voice echoed in her head- not loudly, but loud enough it caught her attention.

Understood. Given me a few to get decent and I'll make my way to the bridge. Her neural system voice her reply in the same fashion it was given. With a quick stretch she let her long metallic silver hair fall down her slender form partly down her back between her wings and the rest falling gently between her breast through her pearly cream colored night gown. As she stood up her vision was inundated with various images as she accessed the ships systems and she saw the shift time clock.

four hours... thats a new low record. she thought to herself as she walked into the shower letting the night gown slip from her shoulders and on to the floor.

Water on... Temperature preset 4. her favorite setting for waking up quickly as it was almost ice cold. The water hit her skin and she reacted instantly. Goose bumps raised on her skin, her eyes shot open and her nipples became hard.

Water to Temperature preset 8! the water rapid changed to a far hotter setting, letting her relax. By the Three that sucks... she murmured before finally washing herself and getting dressed. Her fitted uniform finally on she activated her service amulet letting it produce the service symbology indicative of her position. Ribbons and medals where turned off, only the rank, insignia and her circlet remained turn on.

"Aertura! Send me to the bridge please! In an instant the ship reacted to her command as she was suddenly in the bridge standing before her subordinates.

Captain on deck! was called and everyone snapped to attention. Scholri smiled and tilted her head off to the right.

Awww... You all are so cute when you do it in unison like that!

The crew was used to the break in protocol by now and returned to duty once she replied. Scholri turned and walked to the planning table where other scientists were busy looking over data she had perused before the shower. Once she arrived the ships second in command mentally passed on the raw data over to her letting her digest what he sent. Her eyes shifted quickly as her mind thought she was looking at things physically in front of her. AS she finished she closed her eyes to close out the data programs.

"Sounds like the are inviting us to a Keg party!" Her joking remark only highlighted her excitement at the finding of a deep space probe asking people to come and say hello.

"Helmsman! Prepare to enter a new course! Communications! find, intercept and back trace the message source and send a reply as follows!"


Greets! This is Scholri' Taal of the Hobbeebian Imperium. I am a person of learning and we have a keen interest in meeting your people. We humbly await coordinates to a meeting place and your response to this proposal.

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The Mizarian Empire
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Postby The Mizarian Empire » Tue Nov 08, 2016 5:28 pm

Hobbeebia wrote:Greets! This is Scholri' Taal of the Hobbeebian Imperium. I am a person of learning and we have a keen interest in meeting your people. We humbly await coordinates to a meeting place and your response to this proposal.


The announcement had come just around the 3rd celebratory glass of Suljah* that yet another broadcast was coming in. The drunken merriment subsided for a moment as the operator listened carefully, re-writing the transmission for the Hall of Records*. A dozen more bottles of the stout liquor were fetched when it was once again confirmed that the collective had once again made contact with foreign life. Already the news was spreading like wildfire that contact had been made. Ships that had been preparing to dock at the numerous amalgamation of ships turned space-stations halted their procedures and prepared to welcome their new guests and (although the hope was it wouldn't come to it) potentially protect their new home. The void was abuzz with ships maneuvering too and fro.

Slowly, the MCS Gurrik's Dream, the staggeringly vast warship and home for much of what had once been the Migratory fleet's population, detached from it's dry-dock and set course for the edges of the Sollux system. Compared to the sleek; nimble designs of their Hecarian masters, Gurrik's Dream was reminiscent of ancient warships, it's flanks were bristling with hundreds of mass-drivers designed to overwhelm the shield systems typical of their former task-master's vessels. The typically intimidating red/white glow of each rail-gun's platforms was absent for this event. Resting comfortably near the ship's core, the ambassadorial party sat impatiently waiting. Joshua Solosov, one of the final Hecarian sympathizers alive and one of the collective's most esteemed members, watched his associates pace frantically in the dining hall that was to be the welcoming area for their new guests.

Patience (My little dove), be at ease, they will arrive when they arrive he cooed. He'd found Kathala, his partner and mate, took a certain (ironic) fondness to Joshua speaking Hecarian, despite the common dislike of the language. The Korarian stopped and looked at him briefly before sighing and settling into a chair beside him. It had been an admittedly frantic day, Joshua could scarcely believe the Mizarians had already achieved contact so quickly. It had admittedly been a number of years since first contact was attempted, but for such crude attempts to receive response merely highlighted the luck his new kin had fallen into in these past years. He brushed Kathala's head softly, receiving a soft humming in response to the attention from the short Mizarian. You will have your chance at glory he smirked as Kathala looked over at him I am only here to present a more recognizable face for our potential party.

Joshua was by all appearances the peak of Terran normalcy. It was for this very reason that Joshua had (in the Collective's earliest years) become an incredibly useful asset to their cause. While many foreign refugees and survivors of ship-wrecks had originally distrusted their Mizarian saviors, it had been Joshua's repeated assurances that had brought dozens of foreign families into the collective. None had been held against their will, Indeed, by Joshua's own offerings many had been offered a chance to return home, yet their guest's short stay with the fleet had offered a new kind of home. He supposed it didn't help the Mizarian plight that Korarians closely resemble "Greys", a sort of universal group of alien boogeymen whom are known for abducting innocent folk for experimentation.

Attention welcome-party, repeat, attention welcome-party, long-range scans suggest imminent contact with foreign parties. Please make final preparations among yourselves. The announcement had come from the ship's onboard AI, so it was likely they still had another half hour. The Korarians amidst the ambassador party however began chatting and chirping among themselves. The "Welcome Party" as the group had been designated made it's way towards the docking bay. A series of checkpoints and defensive positions littered the route towards their destination. A large, open public forum had also been on their route. The massive garden and public gathering area resembled a lordly estate back on Kuvaqz, his home-world. Joshua contemplated redirecting the meet to this peaceful locale as it's weather simulation system would at least vaguely provide the illusion of being planet-side for their guests until he and his kin could welcome them to New Sollux proper.

An incredibly strong 120 proof liquor distilled by Mizarians from the Macahb leaf. The serving of Suljah is generally reserved for notable events in the same manner Champagne is served on earth by Jarians and Korarians. It is also considered good etiquette however to offer a glass to new guests among Sularians. To offset the harsh alcohol taste, Suljah is often flavored with various fruits and spices.


Resting near the heart of Chemia, the Mizarian capital on New Sollux, the Hall of Records is the single largest storage of information in Mizarian hands. It is the Mizarian equivalent of the Library of Alexandria. If it is worth remembering or reciting, the information is retained somewhere within it's archives which are closely guarded day and night. It is considered one of the highest honors to be tasked with guarding the facility.
Last edited by The Mizarian Empire on Fri Nov 11, 2016 12:37 pm, edited 1 time in total.
If you need help world-building, don't be afraid to send me a PM/TG. I'm generally a laid-back guy and have no problem helping if I'm not busy.
Currently Hosting:
If you have ANY QUESTIONS WHATSOEVER about your application or about an RP I am running, feel free to ask, I don't bite very often.

I keep my own political views to myself unless pressed, no offense to you dear reader. With regards to religious belief, I am an atheist. That being said, I'm open to (peacefully) discussing spiritual belief and/or scripture if you so desire.

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Hobbeebia
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Postby Hobbeebia » Thu Nov 10, 2016 3:21 pm


Moments before entering unknown system of contact....


The crew was excited as ever to meet a new people which they had no previous contact. Flurries are laughter and gossip ran rampant about if the people they were going to meet were attractive, breathe oxygen, or if they knew of alcoholic drinks, or all except the small security contingent stationed on the ship for its internal order and defense. One such officer was LT. Andral, a serious no nonsense sorta fellow that was keen on professionalism and decorum, especially when being faced with a first contact situation where an exchange of fire wasnt expected.

"I swear that woman is going to have us all killed. Shes to impulsive and I swear she has some kind of mental issue." Andral muttered off as he and another officer were busy breaking up a drunken brawl over a fertile females advances to a number of males. The other officer nodded his head in agreement.

Like how she is stone faced when someone makes anjoke, but as soon as she has a meeting with superiors or lkke when we discovered that probes message... inviting us to a keg party? She can be serious sometimes.

Andral agreed in return.

Attention all hands! Exiting slipspace in 1 minute.

The announcement was met with mixed reactions. The general crew cheered while the security forces braced for an attack.


1 minute later


The large science vessel came forth from the void like a ripple in water, small shimmering waves against the endless black face of space. Her slender frame like a striking spear with clean edges and smooth surfaces. Light seemed to be radiatingnfrom her hull but with no one point of origin save for the white and blue lines which acted as saftey strobes for any possible nearby steller traffic. The only thing found however was the readings of a large, aging warship and the space station where Im sure they where expected to try and dock. The generally oversized vessel would have found bit difficult to dock with the station whats more was to lack of external opening ports that would be accessible from the understood dock positions.

Attention Approaching Warship!. This is the Hobbeebian Imperiums Craving Knowledge an inspection of your superstructure shows us that our ship will not be compatible for docking and we will be entering via portal we have already taken a look inside and believe we have found the proper meeting location and will be arriving shortly. The message sent, Scholri and her team of scientists gathered together and ordered a portal to materialize in which they walked through emerging on the other side of the vail in the presence of the Greeting Team.

Greetings! My name is Scholri' Taal. It is my most humble pleasure to meet you.

Her eyes remained closed for the entire greeting finishing before letting them open to reveal her bio-illuminated eyes which shown brightlyalmost completely obscuring the eyes themselves. Her pale skin shimmered like polished marble against their lighting her silver hair in a long braid whuch wrapped around her neck in an exaggerated loop twice. The others that followed her looked similar, but easily distinguishable males and females an obvious distinction.
Last edited by Hobbeebia on Fri Nov 11, 2016 6:44 am, edited 1 time in total.

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The Mizarian Empire
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Postby The Mizarian Empire » Fri Nov 11, 2016 5:44 pm

Hobbeebia wrote:
Moments before entering unknown system of contact....


The crew was excited as ever to meet a new people which they had no previous contact. Flurries of laughter and gossip ran rampant about if the people they were going to meet were attractive, breathe oxygen, or if they knew of alcoholic drinks, or all except the small security contingent stationed on the ship for its internal order and defense. One such officer was LT. Andral, a serious no nonsense sorta fellow that was keen on professionalism and decorum, especially when being faced with a first contact situation where an exchange of fire wasn't expected.

"I swear that woman is going to have us all killed. Shes to impulsive and I swear she has some kind of mental issue." Andral muttered off as he and another officer were busy breaking up a drunken brawl over a fertile female's advances to a number of males. The other officer nodded his head in agreement.

Like how she is stone faced when someone makes a joke, but as soon as she has a meeting with superiors or lkke when we discovered that probes message... inviting us to a keg party? She can be serious sometimes.

Andral agreed in return.

Attention all hands! Exiting slipspace in 1 minute.

The announcement was met with mixed reactions. The general crew cheered while the security forces braced for an attack.


1 minute later


The large science vessel came forth from the void like a ripple in water, small shimmering waves against the endless black face of space. Her slender frame like a striking spear with clean edges and smooth surfaces. Light seemed to be radiating from her hull but with no one point of origin save for the white and blue lines which acted as safety strobes for any possible nearby stellar traffic. The only thing found however was the readings of a large, aging warship and the space station where they were sure they where expected to try and dock. The generally oversized vessel would have found bit difficult to dock with the station whats more was to lack of external opening ports that would be accessible from the understood dock positions.

Attention Approaching Warship!. This is the Hobbeebian Imperiums Craving Knowledge an inspection of your superstructure shows us that our ship will not be compatible for docking and we will be entering via portal we have already taken a look inside and believe we have found the proper meeting location and will be arriving shortly. The message sent, Scholri and her team of scientists gathered together and ordered a portal to materialize in which they walked through emerging on the other side of the vail in the presence of the Greeting Team.

Greetings! My name is Scholri' Taal. It is my most humble pleasure to meet you.

Her eyes remained closed for the entire greeting finishing before letting them open to reveal her bio-illuminated eyes which shown brightly almost completely obscuring the eyes themselves. Her pale skin shimmered like polished marble against their lighting her silver hair in a long braid which wrapped around her neck in an exaggerated loop twice. The others that followed her looked similar, but easily distinguishable males and females an obvious distinction.


A number of Jarians waiting from afar had started to shoulder their las-locks* when a brilliant light flowed into view. From it poured numerous foreigners, the nervous arms-men watched before Joshua casually brushed the shoulder-cape concealing his weapon-arm aside. The revealing of his prosthetic metal limb, as well as his weapon's holster being snapped shut was enough to signal to the marines that their response was not warranted. Warmest welcomes Mahn Frahm* Scholri' Taal, I am Joshua Solosov the second of the Mizarian Collective. Beside me, my mate Kathala the Korarian chirped in welcome, a smile coming to it's face along with the rest of our welcoming committee he offered politely before bowing deeply. The Hecarian took note of her eyes, pretty as they were, her figure was far from unpleasant. He had little time for such base thoughts however before stepping aside and letting his partner speak their peace.

The older Korarian stepped forward, brushing it's own cloak aside as it approached before bowing and brushing Scholri' Taal's hands softly before bowing as well and speaking back in a mechanical, echoing voice It is this one's deepest pleasure to meet you, Scholri' Taal. I am Kathala, on behalf of the Collective, I welcome you as a guest in our home. While we draw breath, we are one. Your kin are our kin, and we shall protect you as such. Kathala took great care to translate it's speech to that familiar to Hobbeebian dialect. As guests in our home, your protection and comfort is our greatest concern, if you would follow, we would be delighted to address any questions you may have. The Korarian added, a smile on the otherwise smooth face, lacking a nose or lips. While far from the most attractive figures by most Terran humanoid standards, Korarians were scientists and diplomats first and foremost. Such figures were often implanted with devices to sterilize their skin surfaces, preventing transmission of potentially dangerous bacteria to guests or vice versa.

Forgot to add this, "My Friend" in Hecarian basic (the commoner's tongue), Hecarians have 4 languages, each generally spoken only among certain Hecarian social circles. Specifically the working (Labor's tongue) class, the aristocracy (The Gilded tongue), higher-class working (The Artist's tongue) lastly military/prior service (Commoner's tongue). There are enough similarities between each language to hold basic conversation, but it is social faux pas to use a dialect "outside one's station"


While primitive in nature and function, the Las-lock is one of the most potentially powerful small-arms in Mizarian arsenals. These simple musket-like firearms use power-cells originally designed for high-capacity (easily hundreds of bolts) energy weapons. Each power cell is only good for 1 to 5 shots before it is fully discharged and in many cases cannot be recharged. These weapons are generally only issued when against Hecarian forces (where such said cells can be replaced in large quantities) or in the event of the potential for extreme threats.
Last edited by The Mizarian Empire on Wed Nov 16, 2016 3:28 pm, edited 3 times in total.
If you need help world-building, don't be afraid to send me a PM/TG. I'm generally a laid-back guy and have no problem helping if I'm not busy.
Currently Hosting:
If you have ANY QUESTIONS WHATSOEVER about your application or about an RP I am running, feel free to ask, I don't bite very often.

I keep my own political views to myself unless pressed, no offense to you dear reader. With regards to religious belief, I am an atheist. That being said, I'm open to (peacefully) discussing spiritual belief and/or scripture if you so desire.

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Fleuri and Paix
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Founded: Oct 17, 2016
Ex-Nation

Postby Fleuri and Paix » Sun Nov 13, 2016 5:32 pm

Georgia leans back.

It's washing over her, coldly. It won't be the Federation's first first contact – in fact, it'll be its twenty-ninth – but it'll be her first. The chance of a first contact is astronomically minuscule for Fleurien Rangers, never mind for politically poisonous minor nobles running non-levy ships on limited warrants. How does this even happen?

She points a finger, and stops it from shaking. “Translate those coordinates.”

Green dots flicker erratically across the main viewport, as the computer runs through a million different interpretations of the three-dimensional coordinates given. The flickering slows and stops, and a chime sounds: COURSE SOLUTION FOUND. The vector stretches out, a line of emerald-green dashes leading to a point far off in the infinite distance. “Shall I jump, ma'am?” It's Technician Gao, sitting behind the helm. His young voice sounds quavery, and he clears his throat. His eyes, and everyone else's, are on Georgia as she considers her next move.

She makes a spin-around motion with her finger. “Tactical jump. Keep weapons active, but don't arm or lock. Be ready to divert all power to shields. We don't know what we're walking into.” She tries to keep the excitement out of her voice, and out of her head. No use being prejudiced.

With a hum, the Meyrin disappears, and reappears – elsewhere. A panicked proximity alarm sounds out before Georgia squelches it, irritated. Looming over the Meyrin there is a great warship, hundreds of times her volume, and a space station. The implication is obvious. Gao looks to Georgia for an order; at her nod, the technician sets the drive toward the station, moving steadily in at 35% acceleration. The main dish lines up slowly.

UNKNOWN SENDER – THIS IS MGV MEYRIN – PLEASE SEND COORDINATES FOR DOCKING

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Hobbeebia
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Father Knows Best State

Postby Hobbeebia » Mon Nov 14, 2016 12:04 am

It is this one's deepest pleasure to meet you, Scholri' Taal. I am Kathala, on behalf of the Collective, I welcome you as a guest in our home. While we draw breath, we are one. Your kin are our kin, and we shall protect you as such. Kathala took great care to translate it's speech to that familiar to Hobbeebian dialect. As guests in our home, your protection and comfort is our greatest concern, if you would follow, we would be delighted to address any questions you may have.


Scholri bowed to each of the present delegates as the portal closed behind them leaving just the 5 Eborians alone on an unknown cultures warship, it was a sobering reminder that they were in a very serious situation. Relations with the people and their government hinged a proper first introduction, that was until she got a good look at Kathala. Since Eborians don't see in the visible spectrum it took longer than normal to make out her race with all the radiant energy background 'noise' caused by all the electrical conduit running behind the steel bulkheads.

"Kathala...Your species... what is it? Correct me if I'm wrong but you seem to be related to what humans would call the Grey yes?" Her eyes opened wide with excitement as she finished her bow and stood upright, her wings fluttering slightly with anticipation to the response. Either way it was a wonderful time to be Scholri. She had never met a Grey, and if she was not she was something else that she had never encountered.

Meanwhile Andral, the security Captain and his partner stood motionless eyes closed but not blinded since the amount of energy in the area acted like a sonar for them. He had been keeping a tally of all the weapons in standby mode, including the hand weapon strapped to one of the delegates hip. He wasn't worried though as all of their auras had not changed color much since they arrived and words had been exchanged. To remain concealed he and his partner kept their wings folded around themselves using them like a cloak. The other scientists stood back in respect for those talking they did however speak to each other quietly.

Scholri smiled as easily as she could, careful to not seem overly eager to examine her.

"So... do you have any drinks here? Me and my colleagues are famished and a little pick me up would be great!" her smile grew larger and her head took to a small tilt to the right and her hands clasped together on the other side.

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The Mizarian Empire
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1643
Founded: Aug 14, 2011
Ex-Nation

Postby The Mizarian Empire » Wed Nov 16, 2016 4:34 pm

Fleuri and Paix wrote:Georgia leans back.

It's washing over her, coldly. It won't be the Federation's first first contact – in fact, it'll be its twenty-ninth – but it'll be her first. The chance of a first contact is astronomically minuscule for Fleurien Rangers, never mind for politically poisonous minor nobles running non-levy ships on limited warrants. How does this even happen?

She points a finger, and stops it from shaking. “Translate those coordinates.”

Green dots flicker erratically across the main viewport, as the computer runs through a million different interpretations of the three-dimensional coordinates given. The flickering slows and stops, and a chime sounds: COURSE SOLUTION FOUND. The vector stretches out, a line of emerald-green dashes leading to a point far off in the infinite distance. “Shall I jump, ma'am?” It's Technician Gao, sitting behind the helm. His young voice sounds quavery, and he clears his throat. His eyes, and everyone else's, are on Georgia as she considers her next move.

She makes a spin-around motion with her finger. “Tactical jump. Keep weapons active, but don't arm or lock. Be ready to divert all power to shields. We don't know what we're walking into.” She tries to keep the excitement out of her voice, and out of her head. No use being prejudiced.

With a hum, the Meyrin disappears, and reappears – elsewhere. A panicked proximity alarm sounds out before Georgia squelches it, irritated. Looming over the Meyrin there is a great warship, hundreds of times her volume, and a space station. The implication is obvious. Gao looks to Georgia for an order; at her nod, the technician sets the drive toward the station, moving steadily in at 35% acceleration. The main dish lines up slowly.

UNKNOWN SENDER – THIS IS MGV MEYRIN – PLEASE SEND COORDINATES FOR DOCKING


At the helm of "Gurrik's Dream", dozens of personnel worked to coordinate the minute adjustments the ship still needed to reach a near full-stop in space. They were also working 'round the clock to relay information between security forces and logistics crews regarding situations that needed to be addressed. There were other stations for these requests, of course, but all hands were being tasked with keeping the ship running as smoothly as possible to keep up good appearances for their new guests. Victor Draimmen had been placed on the team handling void-comms, dealing with incoming communications that the ship's AI couldn't or didn't want to handle. He had only been at his station perhaps 5 minutes when he received the following communications:

Code: Select all
UNKNOWN SENDER – THIS IS MGV MEYRIN – PLEASE SEND COORDINATES FOR DOCKING


Victor double-checked the flight-log for comms in their sector. No "MGV Meyrin" had been approved. The Sularian had started to report the call for security before reminding himself why he was hear. Instead, the reptilian humanoid tapped the side of it's head (activating the sub-sound communicator for his shift lead) and voiced his concern:

SL 4, VC 14, UOM, OV MGV MEYRIN, WO?

Victor's superior arrived shortly after to his work-station. Upon further investigation, they agreed the message had been from yet another foreign vessel. Clearly this one was hesitant on it's destination, although this might have had something to do with the capital-ship in front of their vessel. A response was deployed as swiftly as possible, docking teams were warned and their crews were swiftly suited up in preparation for what was to come. Already the the docking ramps were being prepared for extension and requisition of magnet clamps were underway to hand-craft an entrance to their vessel for foreign life. It was stressful work, but it ensured Mizarian vessels were able to connect to nearly any vessel save those of organic composition. Victor was quick to relay the necessary replies shortly after:

MGV MEYRIN, MESSAGE RECEIVED, PLEASE REDIRECT HEADING TO EITHER FLANK OF MCS GURRIK\'S DREAM. WE WILL COMMENCE DOCKING PROCEDURES UPON YOUR ARRIVAL.


Hobbeebia wrote:
It is this one's deepest pleasure to meet you, Scholri' Taal. I am Kathala, on behalf of the Collective, I welcome you as a guest in our home. While we draw breath, we are one. Your kin are our kin, and we shall protect you as such. Kathala took great care to translate it's speech to that familiar to Hobbeebian dialect. As guests in our home, your protection and comfort is our greatest concern, if you would follow, we would be delighted to address any questions you may have.


Scholri bowed to each of the present delegates as the portal closed behind them leaving just the 5 Eborians alone on an unknown cultures warship, it was a sobering reminder that they were in a very serious situation. Relations with the people and their government hinged a proper first introduction, that was until she got a good look at Kathala. Since Eborians don't see in the visible spectrum it took longer than normal to make out her race with all the radiant energy background 'noise' caused by all the electrical conduit running behind the steel bulkheads.

"Kathala...Your species... what is it? Correct me if I'm wrong but you seem to be related to what humans would call the Grey yes?" Her eyes opened wide with excitement as she finished her bow and stood upright, her wings fluttering slightly with anticipation to the response. Either way it was a wonderful time to be Scholri. She had never met a Grey, and if she was not she was something else that she had never encountered.

Meanwhile Andral, the security Captain and his partner stood motionless eyes closed but not blinded since the amount of energy in the area acted like a sonar for them. He had been keeping a tally of all the weapons in standby mode, including the hand weapon strapped to one of the delegates hip. He wasn't worried though as all of their auras had not changed color much since they arrived and words had been exchanged. To remain concealed he and his partner kept their wings folded around themselves using them like a cloak. The other scientists stood back in respect for those talking they did however speak to each other quietly.

Scholri smiled as easily as she could, careful to not seem overly eager to examine her.

"So... do you have any drinks here? Me and my colleagues are famished and a little pick me up would be great!" her smile grew larger and her head took to a small tilt to the right and her hands clasped together on the other side.


Kathala had looked over at Joshua for a moment as the team had started to direct their guests before receiving a nod of approval. This one's kind are often referred to as "Korarians" in honor of the world which we originate from. Kathala informed it's guest politely We have been told of shameful stories of those whom call themselves "Greys", yet as far as this one knows, there is no relation. It is our honest stance that we feel ashamed such individuals exist. That individuals would harm foreign life needlessly in the search of understanding in the universe. This being said, Korarians are indeed seekers of knowledge and understanding of the unknown, that all may understand it explained, it nodded it's head as a gesture of respect to it's guests once again before turning to address the entire group

We do indeed offer refreshments, while water is the most frequently sought, I am sure my associates the Korarian glanced back at it's Sularian peers would be delighted to serve Suljah, as is custom to welcome guests such as your own. the Korarian smiled, being sure not to bear it's teeth. Such was a sign among some cultures, it had been told, of intimidation or aggression.
If you need help world-building, don't be afraid to send me a PM/TG. I'm generally a laid-back guy and have no problem helping if I'm not busy.
Currently Hosting:
If you have ANY QUESTIONS WHATSOEVER about your application or about an RP I am running, feel free to ask, I don't bite very often.

I keep my own political views to myself unless pressed, no offense to you dear reader. With regards to religious belief, I am an atheist. That being said, I'm open to (peacefully) discussing spiritual belief and/or scripture if you so desire.

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Fleuri and Paix
Bureaucrat
 
Posts: 58
Founded: Oct 17, 2016
Ex-Nation

Postby Fleuri and Paix » Thu Nov 17, 2016 5:25 am

MCS GURRIK'S DREAM CONTROL – THIS IS MGV MEYRIN – ACKNOWLEDGED – PROCEEDING TO PORT FLANK

Meyrin slipped in under the gargantuan shadow of Gurrik's Dream, smooth as a gliding bird, turning its belly and main egress lock toward the battleship.

In her head, Georgia reviewed the first contact procedures, trying to push down the nervousness in her stomach. Meyrin was a Trade Defender, but the capital letters of importance betrayed the little ship's true insignificance. The Fleurien Axial trade defenders with which Meyrin and her sisters claimed kinship – they were gleaming, laser-cut heavy cruisers the size of skyscrapers, armed with sleek plasma lances and bristling with torpedo hives, wearing the royal blue and proud gold of the FDF combined with intricately detailed war stripes of red and black. She knew them intimately – she'd served on one, before Father had had her forcibly recalled to Mantar. Better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven, he'd said to her, in the words of Milton, and most days she agreed, but today she desperately wished she'd come with a guardian angel. Meyrin was a cruiser in the same sense that a police patrol car was a 'police cruiser' – and that was what Meyrin was, a patrol car of the stars, equipped only to call in incidents and let the Real Navy sort it out. Well, that wasn't an option now.

< Insist on full honours. > It was Temoin, speaking quietly in her head. He was an AI. Not in the true sense – there hadn't been any true AIs on Mantar since the spectacular departure of Les Rouges – but he had a certain degree of sentience. In terms of true intelligence he had the brainpower of a golden retriever, but one with all the knowledge of the Federation and all the meta-knowledge of how to apply it – and forever deprived, incapable, of the nuances and subtleties. Some days she found his un-self-aware simplicity comforting. Today she found it irritating.

< I think not. >

< Francois and Senutila's Cerebrations on Diplomacy recommends it. >

< Cerebrations is outdated trash, Temoin, and you know it. > He didn't, of course – couldn't – but it was true nonetheless.

< No relevant data, > was his brisk and predictable reply. < Nonetheless, Your Highness is entitled – >

< My Highness is knee-high to a Paixois baronet, > she replied sharply, < Earth bloodlines regardless. I have no intention of embarrassing myself with the illusion of power. >

< Speaking of which family, may I refer Your Highness to the case of the Earl of Sumrak – >

< Simon is doing quite well for himself, > she said with asperity. < I intend to follow his example. >

The entire exchange had taken seconds, and she snapped Temoin's overlay off her display to find the imposing flank of Gurrik's Dream looming over her on the front viewer, large enough, wide enough and close enough to throw her perspective off completely and make her feel momentarily sick. Sicker.

She stood. “Make preparations for a contact team. Gao – bridge is yours. Please alert Lieutenant Marrakesh I require her.”



The party of three that stepped into the reception area on Gurrik's Dream was much less effervescent than the Hobbeeebian intruder (of whom they had no knowledge). It was small and simple – Marrakech, the ship's chief negotiator (more used to hostages than to this); Raul, a senior constable brought along primarily to record and observe; and Georgia, bringing up the back.

Each was surrounded by a sparkle of blue motes that dashed here and there, disappearing, the exotic spacetime interactions of a personal energy shield. They weren't anything spectacular – in fact, they weren't really shields; Couronnois technology couldn't yet maintain a coherent barrier around a moving human form strong enough to deflect firearms discharge. It could, however, contain nitrogen and oxygen quite easily, and that was what it did – each of them had a little personal air pocket stolen from Meyrin, being constantly reprocessed through filters worn on the back of the neck, just in case the air mix on Gurrik's Dream failed to impress (or be survivable).

Each wore standard unknown environment uniform – a skintight undersuit of satin-like fabric with its outlines blurred by flexarmour plates strapped on and worn over. The flexarmour was nothing like the Crab armour so beloved of the Red Mantevins, or even like Georgia's escape kit – but it would deflect a plasma bolt, once, if it happened to get in its way, and it was not so obtrusive as to be offensive.

Over the armour plates, Georgia wore her dress uniform coat – pale vermillion edged in jet black, with the Mantarien Chancellery Defence logo on the breast. Her Federal Service pin stood out, ostentatious and gold, on her lapel, and the symbolic insignia of a captain were embroidered on her shoulders. Her purpose in wearing the whole getup was threefold: to indicate negotiator rank; to draw fire; and to look like a diplomat, not a plod in bulky armour (although Marrakech and Raul struck convincing figures in their own coats, black with vermillion highlights).

She'd brought her signet ring, too, the one she'd received at her formal elevation. Normally she detested anything to do with House protocol, hated how it had ripped her back to Mantiers, but the ring was different. It meant family – family the way it had been before Les Rouges. At a time like this, she needed it. It wasn't on her finger – it wouldn't have fit over or in her undersuit glove. Instead, it was on a chain around her neck, tucked inside her uniform, under her breastplate. It was her lucky charm.

She shook her head, cleared it, and stood straight, and when the opportunity came, she said, “Georgia Sleeman, Captain of the Meyrin. I am most honoured to be invited aboard your ship.”

(OOC: Sorry! Ton of backstory hit me at once. Promise not to word vomit so much in future.)

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The Mizarian Empire
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1643
Founded: Aug 14, 2011
Ex-Nation

Postby The Mizarian Empire » Thu Nov 17, 2016 7:20 pm

Fleuri and Paix wrote:MCS GURRIK'S DREAM CONTROL – THIS IS MGV MEYRIN – ACKNOWLEDGED – PROCEEDING TO PORT FLANK

Meyrin slipped in under the gargantuan shadow of Gurrik's Dream, smooth as a gliding bird, turning its belly and main egress lock toward the battleship.

In her head, Georgia reviewed the first contact procedures, trying to push down the nervousness in her stomach. Meyrin was a Trade Defender, but the capital letters of importance betrayed the little ship's true insignificance. The Fleurien Axial trade defenders with which Meyrin and her sisters claimed kinship – they were gleaming, laser-cut heavy cruisers the size of skyscrapers, armed with sleek plasma lances and bristling with torpedo hives, wearing the royal blue and proud gold of the FDF combined with intricately detailed war stripes of red and black. She knew them intimately – she'd served on one, before Father had had her forcibly recalled to Mantar. Better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven, he'd said to her, in the words of Milton, and most days she agreed, but today she desperately wished she'd come with a guardian angel. Meyrin was a cruiser in the same sense that a police patrol car was a 'police cruiser' – and that was what Meyrin was, a patrol car of the stars, equipped only to call in incidents and let the Real Navy sort it out. Well, that wasn't an option now.

< Insist on full honours. > It was Temoin, speaking quietly in her head. He was an AI. Not in the true sense – there hadn't been any true AIs on Mantar since the spectacular departure of Les Rouges – but he had a certain degree of sentience. In terms of true intelligence he had the brainpower of a golden retriever, but one with all the knowledge of the Federation and all the meta-knowledge of how to apply it – and forever deprived, incapable, of the nuances and subtleties. Some days she found his un-self-aware simplicity comforting. Today she found it irritating.

< I think not. >

< Francois and Senutila's Cerebrations on Diplomacy recommends it. >

< Cerebrations is outdated trash, Temoin, and you know it. > He didn't, of course – couldn't – but it was true nonetheless.

< No relevant data, > was his brisk and predictable reply. < Nonetheless, Your Highness is entitled – >

< My Highness is knee-high to a Paixois baronet, > she replied sharply, < Earth bloodlines regardless. I have no intention of embarrassing myself with the illusion of power. >

< Speaking of which family, may I refer Your Highness to the case of the Earl of Sumrak – >

< Simon is doing quite well for himself, > she said with asperity. < I intend to follow his example. >

The entire exchange had taken seconds, and she snapped Temoin's overlay off her display to find the imposing flank of Gurrik's Dream looming over her on the front viewer, large enough, wide enough and close enough to throw her perspective off completely and make her feel momentarily sick. Sicker.

She stood. “Make preparations for a contact team. Gao – bridge is yours. Please alert Lieutenant Marrakesh I require her.”



The party of three that stepped into the reception area on Gurrik's Dream was much less effervescent than the Hobbeeebian intruder (of whom they had no knowledge). It was small and simple – Marrakech, the ship's chief negotiator (more used to hostages than to this); Raul, a senior constable brought along primarily to record and observe; and Georgia, bringing up the back.

Each was surrounded by a sparkle of blue motes that dashed here and there, disappearing, the exotic spacetime interactions of a personal energy shield. They weren't anything spectacular – in fact, they weren't really shields; Couronnois technology couldn't yet maintain a coherent barrier around a moving human form strong enough to deflect firearms discharge. It could, however, contain nitrogen and oxygen quite easily, and that was what it did – each of them had a little personal air pocket stolen from Meyrin, being constantly reprocessed through filters worn on the back of the neck, just in case the air mix on Gurrik's Dream failed to impress (or be survivable).

Each wore standard unknown environment uniform – a skintight undersuit of satin-like fabric with its outlines blurred by flexarmour plates strapped on and worn over. The flexarmour was nothing like the Crab armour so beloved of the Red Mantevins, or even like Georgia's escape kit – but it would deflect a plasma bolt, once, if it happened to get in its way, and it was not so obtrusive as to be offensive.

Over the armour plates, Georgia wore her dress uniform coat – pale vermillion edged in jet black, with the Mantarien Chancellery Defence logo on the breast. Her Federal Service pin stood out, ostentatious and gold, on her lapel, and the symbolic insignia of a captain were embroidered on her shoulders. Her purpose in wearing the whole getup was threefold: to indicate negotiator rank; to draw fire; and to look like a diplomat, not a plod in bulky armour (although Marrakech and Raul struck convincing figures in their own coats, black with vermillion highlights).

She'd brought her signet ring, too, the one she'd received at her formal elevation. Normally she detested anything to do with House protocol, hated how it had ripped her back to Mantiers, but the ring was different. It meant family – family the way it had been before Les Rouges. At a time like this, she needed it. It wasn't on her finger – it wouldn't have fit over or in her undersuit glove. Instead, it was on a chain around her neck, tucked inside her uniform, under her breastplate. It was her lucky charm.

She shook her head, cleared it, and stood straight, and when the opportunity came, she said, “Georgia Sleeman, Captain of the Meyrin. I am most honoured to be invited aboard your ship.”

(OOC: Sorry! Ton of backstory hit me at once. Promise not to word vomit so much in future.)

No worries, I always encourage all players say what they feel they need to say! Plus it gives me more to work with!


Mordecai Jerib, one of the only other Hecarians dwelling among Mizarians (along with his tank crew) had arrived in the receiving bay just as the crew of the MGV Meyrin arrived. The primate-like Jarians (each almost a 1/3rd again his size) slammed their free fists against their chest-plates and bowed in honor of the man known as the "Collective's Steel Wall". The highly decorated commoner had earned himself a reputation as a man of war and action. Why in the name of the holy 4 the Mizarians were pleading for him to come out and put on a face for new refugees he didn't know. Mordecai was a crude, obnoxious and often demanding individual. Yet he'd always earned his keep among the Mizarians thusfar not just for his command in battle but his understanding of machines. The objects before him were not in fact machines, indeed they were living; breathing people. People that he did not know therefore distrusted on a primal level....Yet despite this, he knew these people were probably just as uncomfortable with this situation as he was. Their fidgety nature suggested these were far from the holier-than-thou ambassadorial party he envisioned back on Jakku. As the Terran-like official briskly walked past the numerous Jarian guards (each saluting with the equally loud thump of a fist to their breastplate, a notion he frequently wished they would stop) he stopped before the party as they announced themselves:

"Georgia Sleeman, Captain of the Meyrin. I am most honoured to be invited aboard your ship.”

Mordecai barely held in the laughter at the stupidity of electing him as a representative of the collective. Yet he did his best to maintain a calm; collected composure. The Hecarian stood alone save a Sularian recordist, eagerly tapping away at a multipad* Mordecai brushed a piece of lint from the Void-Weave* cloak over his military attire. The entire left breastplate adorned with dozens of military crests and medals from his years serving in the Hecarian Military. Jerib glanced back at his recordist, his expression said all that needed to be said, the Sularian immediately ceased his frantic tapping on the holographic surface.

I welcome you to the Mizarian Collective, m'lady Georgia. Mordecai Jerib, Mizarian 4th armored at your beck and call. If I may be so blunt....I would ask that you bear no mind to my kin He nodded back towards the Jarian honor-guards standing behind him just out of ear-shot They mean well, but their species are...frankly blunt, they are warriors through and through, like myself. he elaborated plainly. If you will follow me, my fellow welcoming party is escorting another envoy such as your own to discuss peaceful co-operation. the Hecarian stated tactfully I would like to warn you that it is Sularian custom Mordecai gestured back at the recordist beside him To serve a stout beverage to welcome honored guests....that said, if you will excuse me a moment... the aging tank commander turned back towards the bay I INVOKE THE UNDYING EIGHT'S SECOND claiming the ambassadorial party as guests. The guards across the bay snapped to attention "IN OUR HOME, YOUR BLOOD IS OUR OWN, YOUR SAFETY IS OUR OWN" the guards shouted back in unison. The Hecarian turned back to address them In short, we will protect you as one of our own. If a threat is to appear, we would ask that you let us defend you, it is Mizarian custom to treat all foreigners whom desire peace as part of our community. the aging human stated kindly before bowing once again.

With that formality out of the way, I believe I can find a fine spot for us to talk before we allow you planet side.

A hand-held holographic electronic. Retracting down to the size of a small USB thumb-drive. The Multipad functions the same as a laptop or Ipad, allowing one to access long-range communications networks and record data. In this instance, it is being used to record the opening communications for the Hall of Records.


This form of silk, harvested from the Void Spider, is favored for it's strength and the ease of which it can be tailored to reflect one's emotions/mental state by changing color based on bodily chemistry.
If you need help world-building, don't be afraid to send me a PM/TG. I'm generally a laid-back guy and have no problem helping if I'm not busy.
Currently Hosting:
If you have ANY QUESTIONS WHATSOEVER about your application or about an RP I am running, feel free to ask, I don't bite very often.

I keep my own political views to myself unless pressed, no offense to you dear reader. With regards to religious belief, I am an atheist. That being said, I'm open to (peacefully) discussing spiritual belief and/or scripture if you so desire.

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Hobbeebia
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1153
Founded: Antiquity
Father Knows Best State

Postby Hobbeebia » Thu Nov 17, 2016 10:09 pm

Kathala had looked over at Joshua for a moment as the team had started to direct their guests before receiving a nod of approval. This one's kind are often referred to as "Korarians" in honor of the world which we originate from. Kathala informed it's guest politely We have been told of shameful stories of those whom call themselves "Greys", yet as far as this one knows, there is no relation. It is our honest stance that we feel ashamed such individuals exist. That individuals would harm foreign life needlessly in the search of understanding in the universe. This being said, Korarians are indeed seekers of knowledge and understanding of the unknown, that all may understand it explained, it nodded it's head as a gesture of respect to it's guests once again before turning to address the entire group

We do indeed offer refreshments, while water is the most frequently sought, I am sure my associates the Korarian glanced back at it's Sularian peers would be delighted to serve Suljah, as is custom to welcome guests such as your own. the Korarian smiled, being sure not to bear it's teeth. Such was a sign among some cultures, it had been told, of intimidation or aggression.


Scholri listened intently to Kathala's explanation the difference between the Grey and the Korarian. Though she could not audibly detect any tone of discomfort in the explanation Kathala's aura did shift slightly from a calm neutral color to a more distinct shade of orange. She did not yet understand what her colors meant but she would learn soon enough, as would her compatriots who where surely documenting the change in their notes as she thought about them. Her eyes wondered to Andral and his second who seemed to be statues standing in the background.

"Andral... how about you and your second speak to those lovely soldiers over there and talk shop as it were. I'm sure dialogue will help ease both of you and your men into a more relaxed state." her voice was calm and stately and her eyes closed tightly as she spoke letting a long grin stretch across her face letting her naturally long canine teeth show through just enough to be noticeable. Andral didn't blink while looking over to the diplomats guard and then to his second before giving a head nod towards the other guards standing opposite of them in the room. As Andral and Scholri crossed paths they seemed to exchange a slight stare. Innocent enough into its appearance, but in fact it was a data transfer from the ship in regards to another vessel now docked with the large vessel they now inhabited.

"Do we know who they are yet?" her thought crossed back.

Andral had already cut the link but his expression was a clear and deafening No. Scholri kept her thoughts to herself as she pondered the situation a bit in the background of her present engagement... the beverages.

"This...Suljah. It intrigues me! I learned over the course of many years one can learn much from a cultures beverages and culinary arts. If it is of cost to procure please let me know I will see if we can ascertain a good medium of exchange to help pay for it. she mentioned as she took a container with the liquid and gave it a sniff.

"Our people keen artisans of fermentation and cuisine. We believe something just do not taste the same when created via replicator. Actually Imperial law prohibits the use of replicated foods within the Home system and is strictly regulated as an emergency food source in times of war or if food supplies have been destroyed. Our beers, wines and liquors have strict purity standards otherwise they are declared unfit and confiscated by Imperial authorities." she took a gulp carefully to savor all its flavors. Her neural implants had already scanned the drink and found it safe to consume.

"Its flavor is simply, yet distinct. It bears the notes of industrial manufacturing though this may also be the base liquid used in its production. All in all it's not bad to drink... Andral.. be sure to get a number of cases of this drink for my collection would you?"

Andral caught his left eye twitching ever so lightly as her order came from her mouth.

"As you wish mi'lady.

As she and the other diplomats continued on with pleasantries Andral and his second were now face to face with the guard of their hosts. His examination of them on his way over gave him some basic hints as to how they operate as a fighting force.

" Action unison, matching equipment, although various species populate their ranks. They must get adequate funding or have a fairly strong arm within their government. Their initial assumption of hostilities upon arrival indicates they have a strong defensive posture. Assessment of skill however... that is a subject for another time. Perhaps a test of combative prowess would be a good ice breaker?"

Andrals thought whirled around his mind as he stood there.

Your weapons... what are they?" He question lacked any kind of tact and ease. It was sharp and pointed in its intended use.

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The Mizarian Empire
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1643
Founded: Aug 14, 2011
Ex-Nation

Postby The Mizarian Empire » Thu Nov 17, 2016 10:51 pm

Hobbeebia wrote:
Kathala had looked over at Joshua for a moment as the team had started to direct their guests before receiving a nod of approval. This one's kind are often referred to as "Korarians" in honor of the world which we originate from. Kathala informed it's guest politely We have been told of shameful stories of those whom call themselves "Greys", yet as far as this one knows, there is no relation. It is our honest stance that we feel ashamed such individuals exist. That individuals would harm foreign life needlessly in the search of understanding in the universe. This being said, Korarians are indeed seekers of knowledge and understanding of the unknown, that all may understand it explained, it nodded it's head as a gesture of respect to it's guests once again before turning to address the entire group

We do indeed offer refreshments, while water is the most frequently sought, I am sure my associates the Korarian glanced back at it's Sularian peers would be delighted to serve Suljah, as is custom to welcome guests such as your own. the Korarian smiled, being sure not to bear it's teeth. Such was a sign among some cultures, it had been told, of intimidation or aggression.


Scholri listened intently to Kathala's explanation the difference between the Grey and the Korarian. Though she could not audibly detect any tone of discomfort in the explanation Kathala's aura did shift slightly from a calm neutral color to a more distinct shade of orange. She did not yet understand what her colors meant but she would learn soon enough, as would her compatriots who where surely documenting the change in their notes as she thought about them. Her eyes wondered to Andral and his second who seemed to be statues standing in the background.

"Andral... how about you and your second speak to those lovely soldiers over there and talk shop as it were. I'm sure dialogue will help ease both of you and your men into a more relaxed state." her voice was calm and stately and her eyes closed tightly as she spoke letting a long grin stretch across her face letting her naturally long canine teeth show through just enough to be noticeable. Andral didn't blink while looking over to the diplomats guard and then to his second before giving a head nod towards the other guards standing opposite of them in the room. As Andral and Scholri crossed paths they seemed to exchange a slight stare. Innocent enough into its appearance, but in fact it was a data transfer from the ship in regards to another vessel now docked with the large vessel they now inhabited.

"Do we know who they are yet?" her thought crossed back.

Andral had already cut the link but his expression was a clear and deafening No. Scholri kept her thoughts to herself as she pondered the situation a bit in the background of her present engagement... the beverages.

"This...Suljah. It intrigues me! I learned over the course of many years one can learn much from a cultures beverages and culinary arts. If it is of cost to procure please let me know I will see if we can ascertain a good medium of exchange to help pay for it. she mentioned as she took a container with the liquid and gave it a sniff.

"Our people keen artisans of fermentation and cuisine. We believe something just do not taste the same when created via replicator. Actually Imperial law prohibits the use of replicated foods within the Home system and is strictly regulated as an emergency food source in times of war or if food supplies have been destroyed. Our beers, wines and liquors have strict purity standards otherwise they are declared unfit and confiscated by Imperial authorities." she took a gulp carefully to savor all its flavors. Her neural implants had already scanned the drink and found it safe to consume.

"Its flavor is simply, yet distinct. It bears the notes of industrial manufacturing though this may also be the base liquid used in its production. All in all it's not bad to drink... Andral.. be sure to get a number of cases of this drink for my collection would you?"

Andral caught his left eye twitching ever so lightly as her order came from her mouth.

"As you wish mi'lady.

As she and the other diplomats continued on with pleasantries Andral and his second were now face to face with the guard of their hosts. His examination of them on his way over gave him some basic hints as to how they operate as a fighting force.

" Action unison, matching equipment, although various species populate their ranks. They must get adequate funding or have a fairly strong arm within their government. Their initial assumption of hostilities upon arrival indicates they have a strong defensive posture. Assessment of skill however... that is a subject for another time. Perhaps a test of combative prowess would be a good ice breaker?"

Andrals thought whirled around his mind as he stood there.

Your weapons... what are they?" He question lacked any kind of tact and ease. It was sharp and pointed in its intended use.


Joshua chuckled at the questions and remarks. Kathala had looked to it's mate curiously. With respect madam....Suljah is mostly distilled from the Macahb plant. In it's native form, it can have....undesirable effects, most notably hallucinations. It is native to my own homeworld of Kuvaqz....With additional respects, those of my kin, known as Hecarians, are generally a subject frowned upon. My kin were slavers, and Mizarians, such as Kathala he gestured to his mate And others before you were slaves as well....sadly they were mistreated in grave manners, as such I felt it my duty to resolve this, as such my kind are rare among the collective there are.....perhaps Joshua looked back at one of the Jarians, an Honor-guardsman no less Vaht'lahn, there are approximately 12 of us whom remain within the collective. I would imagine this gentleman is your chief of security? the Hecarian gestured to one of Schlori's crew, the individual had been asking a Jarian whom looked at Andral attempted to communicate with one of the guards. They will, respectfully, be less inclined to answer your questions sir, the Honor Guards are, while dedicated to your protection, solely focused on that matter. They watch for any and all threats, they are drilled to do so from a young age. Jarians especially.

The primate-like creature gave a snort in Joshua's direction as he approached, returning to his watch right up until the Hecarian approached barely inches from the Honor-guard's post (Your weapon, guardsman....at rest, we have many present, they certainly aren't my own kin, wouldn't you say?) The Hecarian inquired in his own alien tongue, taking care to keep the language separate from those translated thus-far. Joshua held out his hands before the Jarian.

Meht Gethvan looked at Joshua for a moment then Andral as well. The 7 foot furred humanoid was certainly outside the realm of his training. Despite this, it knew when to concede to the demand of it's superiors. The muscular being twisted it's head to stare at the 5 foot long las-lock it had shouldered this entire time before lowering it, a loud SLAP of it's free hand gripping the weapon with both hands before surrendering it to the Hecarian whom inspected the weapon. Joshua gave a nod of respect to Meht before shouldering the weapon and turning towards a target on the far side of the room.

The Hecarian softly placed the butt of the long-gun on the ship's deck before giving Andral a smile Mizarians favor ballistic weapons, relying on actual bullets which are easy to manufacture. That said, they also have a certain fondness for these he rocked the weapon in his hand indicating it Hecarian soldiers use power cells genetically printed to it's user, as such, it is easy to tell whom fired a weapon. Firing a Hecarian weapon not linked to you will result in the entire power cell discharging through the weapon, often resulting in a several million voltage shock to the wielder, resulting in permanent damage if not lethal injury. The Laslock, such as these weapons, are designed to override that by forcefully depleting the entire power cell in one or several large bolts of energy. It makes common suppression tactics impossible, but when your first shot can potentially punch through most vehicle armor plating....suppression becomes a rather small issue when you have dozens of these firing on your position. Joshua added with a coy grin. With a seemingly easy kick, the Hecarian flipped the weapon up into the air, shouldered it and, with only a split second's time to aim, fired at a target nearly 100 yards away across the wide-open cargo bay, punching straight through the steel-plate armored dummy and scorching the bulk-head past it.
Last edited by The Mizarian Empire on Thu Nov 17, 2016 10:51 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Fleuri and Paix
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Postby Fleuri and Paix » Sat Nov 19, 2016 4:14 am

He has a soldier's bearing, she thinks, not a diplomat's. Who are they? She senses some levity from him at the formal greeting. She can't place it. She refuses to let it bother her. He greets her as m'lady Georgia; admittedly, it sounds much less ugly coming from the mouth of a foreign soldier than from a Mantevin courtier. “Thank you, Mr Jerib,” she says simply. The High Mantevin accent struggles to break out, as it does in times of stress, and she presses it down, keeping her diction resolutely Fleurien. He wouldn't know the difference – but Marrakech and Raul would. She is here for the Federation, not for the Throne. “We are glad of your protection.

“This is Lieutenant Marrakech, my diplomatic advisor, and this is Constable Raul, my security attache,” she indicates each in turn. Marrakech bows slightly from the waist, but her eyes never leave Jerib. Raul, although older and more experienced, looks less certain and offers a regulation salute. No surprise. She suspects Marrakech's action was closer to protocol, but how protocol applies here, no one can be sure. “We represent the Couronnois Federation, and yes, we come in peace.”

She begins to move with him in the direction indicated. “No doubt,” she says, and the High Mant is coming out again, unspeakably plummy, and she pushes it right down, “no doubt future diplomats of our species will have much to say to each other, but my job is blessedly simple. First, to ascertain your intent. Second, to learn as much about you as I can.” She offers a small smile. “If you don't mind my saying so.

“Mr Jerib, we were brought here by a probe, Engrim 14. It appeared in a system some distance removed from one of our secure, cross-border beacon-marked routes. Before that, I may freely say your civilisation and mine had never met.” She took a breath. “You will understand, I have many questions. What is the Mizarian Collective, and what do you seek in this sector?” She paused again, considering. “I hope the courtesy you've shown us means that you want peace.”

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Postby The Mizarian Empire » Sat Nov 19, 2016 5:20 pm

Fleuri and Paix wrote:He has a soldier's bearing, she thinks, not a diplomat's. Who are they? She senses some levity from him at the formal greeting. She can't place it. She refuses to let it bother her. He greets her as m'lady Georgia; admittedly, it sounds much less ugly coming from the mouth of a foreign soldier than from a Mantevin courtier. “Thank you, Mr Jerib,” she says simply. The High Mantevin accent struggles to break out, as it does in times of stress, and she presses it down, keeping her diction resolutely Fleurien. He wouldn't know the difference – but Marrakech and Raul would. She is here for the Federation, not for the Throne. “We are glad of your protection.

“This is Lieutenant Marrakech, my diplomatic advisor, and this is Constable Raul, my security attache,” she indicates each in turn. Marrakech bows slightly from the waist, but her eyes never leave Jerib. Raul, although older and more experienced, looks less certain and offers a regulation salute. No surprise. She suspects Marrakech's action was closer to protocol, but how protocol applies here, no one can be sure. “We represent the Couronnois Federation, and yes, we come in peace.”

She begins to move with him in the direction indicated. “No doubt,” she says, and the High Mant is coming out again, unspeakably plummy, and she pushes it right down, “no doubt future diplomats of our species will have much to say to each other, but my job is blessedly simple. First, to ascertain your intent. Second, to learn as much about you as I can.” She offers a small smile. “If you don't mind my saying so.

“Mr Jerib, we were brought here by a probe, Engrim 14. It appeared in a system some distance removed from one of our secure, cross-border beacon-marked routes. Before that, I may freely say your civilisation and mine had never met.” She took a breath. “You will understand, I have many questions. What is the Mizarian Collective, and what do you seek in this sector?” She paused again, considering. “I hope the courtesy you've shown us means that you want peace.”


Jerib had listened to the party's lead on their way through the ship, passing numerous checkpoints or work-crews tending to the ancient ship. I honestly can't speak to the collective's overall intentions, with due respect. My kind, that is to say, Hecarians, are given a great deal of leeway but beyond minor privileges and a few extra responsibilities the collective remains...uncertain of us. That said, they are not ones to commit to war, let alone violence, without a damn fine reason. Most of the collective is made up of "Mizarians"....the Hecarian confederacy's "Property" he spit off the side of the walkway as the party passed over a bat-bay, holding a wide array of batteries designed to store excess power for the ship's shields and allow the ship's mass-drivers to fire at a moment's notice in the event of hostile contact.

They were born for the most part to be slaves, and desire little more than freedom. As for what they seek, that would be quite simple, a place to call 'home'. A chance to live normal lives without being executed for little more than minor illness or inability to perform their duties. I give you my word, provided your Federation can promise they'll leave the collective to their own devices, the most you'll see out of them that might be 'hostile' is scrapping a ruined ship for parts....but they do not take threats quietly. There are 3, maybe 4 main species within the collective, along with the odd scatterings of refugees and survivors from damaged or stranded ships they picked up in the migration to this system...ah, here we are

The party had finally reached it's destination. Forum #3, Jerib had long known Joshua to visit this particular section of the ship when he was on board. Far above, a simulated sky covered the ceiling, clouds and the light blue imagery hid the ship's water dispensers which simulated rain and watered the massive garden into something approaching a planet's surface. The several acre locale boasted picnic areas, even a hedge maze and a gazebo resting near the room's center atop a small hill. It had been the life-long effort of a Sularian by the name of Jaunis Eikveer, a gardener whom had served a Hecarian aristocrat back on Kuvaqz. While such sections of the ship could have served better functions (militarily speaking), it was generally agreed by the collective's inhabitants of the ship that these small havens offered a chance to return to something akin to home in their unspeakably long travels across the stars from their captors. For many Mizarians, this was the closest they had ever been to walking a planet's surface before the colonization of the Sollux system.

I imagine after sitting aboard a ship for the gods only know how long, your men would appreciate a chance to relax. I also imagine I know right where our other guests would be gathering the ancient soldier pointed towards the gazebo at the center of the room. Standing tall above the rest of the relatively flat terrain of the forum. It's rolling green fields were littered with dozens if not hundreds of other Mizarians enjoying a peaceful afternoon from their workshift.
If you need help world-building, don't be afraid to send me a PM/TG. I'm generally a laid-back guy and have no problem helping if I'm not busy.
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If you have ANY QUESTIONS WHATSOEVER about your application or about an RP I am running, feel free to ask, I don't bite very often.

I keep my own political views to myself unless pressed, no offense to you dear reader. With regards to religious belief, I am an atheist. That being said, I'm open to (peacefully) discussing spiritual belief and/or scripture if you so desire.

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Fleuri and Paix
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Postby Fleuri and Paix » Sun Nov 20, 2016 5:53 am

< Slave-keepers? > The datavise comes from Marrakech. Georgia doesn't look at her lieutenant; after so long sharing a ship, she knows Marrakech's face will be carefully neutral. She also knows the Solarian emigre's sore spots.

< Former slave-keepers, > she replies. < And not necessarily him. >

“I'm glad to hear it,” she says aloud. “I have no authority to make promises, but I suspect my government has little grounds to threaten the Collective, provided it doesn't threaten us.” She says it matter-of-factly, making the lack of implication clear. Some matters must be openly stated as realpolitik. “You're not far from one of our long-range trade routes, so I can't promise complete isolation – but uninvited intervention abroad is not in our nature.” Even when perhaps it should be.

Her short-form diplomacy, however, is cut off by the party's arrival at Forum #3. It is spectacular. She's heard of it being done – it is little done at home and in her opinion poorly, but she's seen eyeshots from Almanac stringers abroad. This is equal in grandeur to those. Even as a Mantarien, she can't help but feel envy. The rationale is clear enough – the Mizarians are some kind of migrant fleet, ancestral planetborn who have long been starside. Such pressures create unique beauty.

“Impressive,” she says, and means it. With the invitation for her men to relax, she looks at Marrakech and Raul. Marrakech offers her a sideways smile. Raul is blank, turning his head slowly, giving the impression of immense self-restraint. She could laugh. For a man of twenty years' service, five on Mantar, he looks remarkably uncomfortable – but then he has always dealt with the worse, uglier side of society, never with what is beautiful and delicate. She and Marrakech at least have had that.

“On behalf of my crew,” she says, laughing briefly, “I accept the offer to relax.” She waits a space, then, when it seems appropriate, presses, “And who are your guests? I don't believe we've had the opportunity of a proper introduction to them.”

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Postby The Mizarian Empire » Sun Nov 20, 2016 9:30 pm

Fleuri and Paix wrote:< Slave-keepers? > The datavise comes from Marrakech. Georgia doesn't look at her lieutenant; after so long sharing a ship, she knows Marrakech's face will be carefully neutral. She also knows the Solarian emigre's sore spots.

< Former slave-keepers, > she replies. < And not necessarily him. >

“I'm glad to hear it,” she says aloud. “I have no authority to make promises, but I suspect my government has little grounds to threaten the Collective, provided it doesn't threaten us.” She says it matter-of-factly, making the lack of implication clear. Some matters must be openly stated as realpolitik. “You're not far from one of our long-range trade routes, so I can't promise complete isolation – but uninvited intervention abroad is not in our nature.” Even when perhaps it should be.

Her short-form diplomacy, however, is cut off by the party's arrival at Forum #3. It is spectacular. She's heard of it being done – it is little done at home and in her opinion poorly, but she's seen eyeshots from Almanac stringers abroad. This is equal in grandeur to those. Even as a Mantarien, she can't help but feel envy. The rationale is clear enough – the Mizarians are some kind of migrant fleet, ancestral planetborn who have long been starside. Such pressures create unique beauty.

“Impressive,” she says, and means it. With the invitation for her men to relax, she looks at Marrakech and Raul. Marrakech offers her a sideways smile. Raul is blank, turning his head slowly, giving the impression of immense self-restraint. She could laugh. For a man of twenty years' service, five on Mantar, he looks remarkably uncomfortable – but then he has always dealt with the worse, uglier side of society, never with what is beautiful and delicate. She and Marrakech at least have had that.

“On behalf of my crew,” she says, laughing briefly, “I accept the offer to relax.” She waits a space, then, when it seems appropriate, presses, “And who are your guests? I don't believe we've had the opportunity of a proper introduction to them.”


Jerib glanced over at his party, allowing them a full view of the forum. Mizarians aren't ones for piracy 'n waylaying like my kin back home, to be honest m'lady the soldier offered with a half smile Hell if anything, they do their best to SAVE lives, not take 'm. Truth be told I'd fought against their lot when they first revolted, now that I've come to serve with them, they aren't bad folk. I understand, you lot aren't hear to have final say, I just want you to understand, one entity of war to another, they may not trust you right away....They want to trust you, they'd like to trust everyone, but they've lost alot of folk just getting this far...

Jerib nodded at her remark about the trade route Mizarians are, to put it plainly, scavengers.....I have a deep deal of respect for my kin back home, much as I despise their ideals looking back now, but if you need a planet stripped of it's resources? the aged Hecarian caught himself snorting with laughter This crazy lot doesn't know the meaning of 'danger'. I've seen 'm strip entire veins of metal 'n precious metals in a week's time, the likes of which would've taken at LEAST a several month's or even YEARS time back home. Absolutely fearless these Mizarians. If they need it they will have it, consequences be damned.

When the subject came to the foreigners in Joshua's care, Jerib stiffened ever so slightly. To be entirely honest m'lady, I am entirely uncertain to these guests, Hecarians such as myself, barring Joshua, whom is of high birth, genuinely stick to commoner tasks, we keep the ships running, the crops growing and the factories flowing in product from designs akin to those back home. That said, Joshua will likely be greeting these guests because of his stature. Another friendly bit of advice in that regard, I'd ask you not inquire about his arm. The Hecarian added dutifully. Honestly though, I was only made aware of your presence about 10 minutes before you arrived. I'm still not entirely certain why in the 4's name they have me guiding you. Yet they seem to think I'm the best option and so here I am. Jerib finished with a shrug.
If you need help world-building, don't be afraid to send me a PM/TG. I'm generally a laid-back guy and have no problem helping if I'm not busy.
Currently Hosting:
If you have ANY QUESTIONS WHATSOEVER about your application or about an RP I am running, feel free to ask, I don't bite very often.

I keep my own political views to myself unless pressed, no offense to you dear reader. With regards to religious belief, I am an atheist. That being said, I'm open to (peacefully) discussing spiritual belief and/or scripture if you so desire.


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