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[Closed] Inheritors of the Stars Redux

A staging-point for declarations of war and other major diplomatic events. [In character]
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Selan Congress
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[Closed] Inheritors of the Stars Redux

Postby Selan Congress » Wed Jun 12, 2019 1:56 am

The Sirvenal sat still in dock, far above Itavai. It was over three hundred meters, massive, by the standard of most anything else she had ever seen. Past it, the bright little star that Selvas had been told was Solis, stood out in the starfield. For a moment, she couldn't quite take her eyes off it, lost in frantic memories; she shook off the thoughts with a shudder, quite unrelated to the cold atmosphere of the station. Today had been long, and it was going to be longer; the final preparations had been made, and the first unassisted launch of the ship would be made. She was to be the Kir Sessarin of the vessel, a decision made years ago, now. The only thing for it now was to cross through the transfer lock and into the ship; the rest of the crew would either be making the final checks, or on their way themselves. This place was strange and dull, still, as familiar with it as she had become. Metal panels and insulated walls, the silence of work and research, the occasional shudder of stationkeeping or the work on the Sirvenal; there were no ornaments or songs, not even solid ground or the comfort of true gravity. She would be happy to leave it.

The Sirvenal itself was very near to a work of art, no effort spared by the Asersin, the halls were covered in patterns and murals, engraved histories both grand and tragic, poems threaded into curtains wherever they could be hung, even the plain warnings and markings of the Solvarin were carefully integrated into the beauty of the ship. The Solvarin had opposed this strongly, speaking nonsense of the needs of fuel and weight, but the scarcity they demanded was enough to drive anyone to insanity, and tradition won out. The first journey of the Selan beyond their home would be a ceremony with spread wings - to be honored forever, and, perhaps, marveled at by those creatures that live beyond.

According to the Solvarin, however, it lacked a secondary hull, unlike the station, which necessitated the use of sealed armor in most sections of the ship. That she could stand, she was used to wearing armor, and as fine as the armor was, there would be few complaints from the young Sessarin that made up the ship's complement thereof. They were in striking red and blue, marked with their caste and subtly different for each. Hers was distinctive, a pair of ruby bars hung from the right side of the helmet. Another flash of memory, no kinder than the last, but it marked her as Kir. The armor sealed with a hiss, then opened its oxygen circuit, relying on the atmosphere of the ship rather than its own until it was needed.

With that, she set off to the command room. It was two chambers, one for the functions of the ship, another, for the consensus of the Kir - one of each caste, - that would command the vessel. Two others were already assembled; according to what she could hear from an Iseres by the display lattice, the rest of the crew was coming in now.

"Selat," she called, startling the diminutive Solvarin from his conversation, "My tribe is ready. Is yours?"

"Momentarily, we are nearly done. I won't have our launch delayed by a... faulty capacitor." The Asersin, the Kir, if the ornamentation of their armor was to be believed, next to him seemed to take offense.

"There will be no flaws, Solvarin, we have done our best for the Sirvenal." He punctuated the statement with an unpracticed Sessarin salute. "Kir Selvas, it is good to see you again."

She returned the gesture, in proper form. "Kir Talsen." She recognized the voice. He was a Vras-Sessarin, one of desperate warriors of the Elder War, and one she knew well. He did well not to display that fact. "I had not realized you were the Kir Asersin of our Sirvenal." She hadn't realized that he had returned to the life of the Asersin, even. There was a time when he would have told her the moment such a decision was made.

"I have known of your part, I had wondered when we would meet," he said.

The remaining Kir entered the room with that, casting anything more that could be said to the winds. "Kir Viraas, Selthen," she said, quickly turning to meet them. Viraas was Asiren, Selthen, Iseres. She knew neither of them, but they had been chosen for this task, and that would be enough for her trust.

"Very good, we are all here then," said Viraas, "Will we set off, then?"

Selat checked a small computer console. "Yes, yes, now." He paused. "If there is, consensus?"

Agreement was swift, there was no sense in delaying any longer. The collection of Solvarin and Iseres in the room quickly set about the last few tasks before launch; signalling the station to remove the docking hold, ensuring a clear path to their final position before the jump. Eventually, Selat gave the order to activate the superluminal drive, overseeing its first true test himself as the Solvarin worked.

For a brief moment, there was light.




The Solvarin device had worked, or at least, it had appeared to. For thirteen days the ship had traveled, and for thirteen days the stars had been strange and drifting. On several occasions Selat had tried, and failed, to explain the function of it to her; supposedly it had taken the darkness-between-stars and warped it, pushing the ship along like a wind. But something had changed. The Solvarin had become worried - an Asersin had died when a maintenance room collapsed, some parts of the ship had been locked down, marked as unsafe. It was when one of the engines sheared off the ship that Selat and Talsen called the Kir to consensus.

Selthen was first to speak, as was her right. "We should have convened sooner; I had not been told of the death. To Kir Talsen, where is your confidence in the Sirvenal?"

"It remains," he said, his tone hardly concealing that it had faltered, "Rooms do not simply... fall down, in space. Kir Selat, explain."

Selat flipped through a notebook for a few moments before continuing; Selvas could see what was written, but Solvarin script remained largely meaningless to her. Still, the pages were well-filled. "I... have reason to believe that it is the superluminal drive. The field is unstable, there are too many energy fluctuations, even - even gravity, seems to be affecting it."

Selvas spoke in the silence. "And what does this mean, Solvarin?"

"It means the device is a failure; it is getting worse, and I cannot stop it. When I... came upon this theory," he gestured lightly to Talsen, who lowered his gaze immediately, "It was already too late. Stopping it may kill us, it can no longer safely return space to its proper state."

Viraas spoke up, then. "So your device has lead us to death, Selat? There must be something that could be done."

The ship shuddered, as if in answer. Moments later, an Iseres came to the chamber. Another section of the ship had collapsed, this time part of of the fuel system.

"A wonder we are still alive, then," said Talsen. "Selat, this is your curse, end it before more die."

Selat gave a sharp gesture towards Talsen. "Disabling it may kill us all, do you even listen to me? I do not even know if I can collapse the field, now!"

"If you had listened to me earlier, we would not be having this discussion."

Selat was silent for a moment. "There was still time, then. I might have - you cannot blame me for this, Talsen, I could have repaired it."

"Perhaps, but you did not."

Selvas was growing tired of deliberation, and she stood to make her final point, only to be interrupted by Selthen. "If we face certain death to do nothing, and... near certain death, to act, then we have to act."

"Agreed," said Selvas. "There is nothing to discuss, Kir, this consensus is foolish." With that, she left the chamber, and the command room entirely, retrieving her gauss rifle on the way out. No one stopped her on her way to the drive chamber, if only because most of the linking rooms to it were too dangerous to traverse normally. In more than a few, her armor sealed itself, finding the atmosphere too thin to use.

The drive was a twisted mass of metal, folding into itself and tearing loose of its mountings; it hardly resembled the device she had seen before launch.

She took aim, and fired, and for a moment, there was light.




She awoke to the sound of blaring alarms, some from the ship, some from her own armor. It took her a moment to quite realize the significance of her armor's 'low oxygen' warning, even written in familiar scripts. She pulled herself up from the floor, and slowly made her way back to the command room, careful to avoid jagged spikes of metal and the great holes in the ship's hull on her way. On more than one occasion, she passed by the body of someone who hadn't been so lucky as her.

Talsen was supporting an injured Asersin, near the entrance. "Sessarin, if I had thought there was another option, I would kill you where you stand. Help me with this one."

She couldn't say whether she agreed. Some part of her screamed out in her own defense, and another was sunk in the shame of her actions. She took the unconscious Asersin from the smaller male. "To the infirmary?"

"It's gone," he said, "Enough of it is. The command room, for now."

She brought the injured Selan into the room and set her down against the wall, quickly checking her for injuries, finding nothing, at least, nothing that was obvious through the armor. That was the extent of what she could do, - an Asiren waved her away a moment later, the task for her caste regardless.

With that, she set about collecting the injured, while Selat prepared a basic transmission for what remained of the communications array, hoping that he had at least been right, that they were not alone out here.
Last edited by Selan Congress on Wed Jun 12, 2019 1:56 am, edited 1 time in total.
Bird Aliens with a Caste System and widely varying levels of industrial development, technological development, and a near total lack of general urbanization. Wouldn't look out of place in the Bronze Age if not for the Railguns and Near-Light-Speed Drives. And the whole, large bird aliens thing.

Factbook Coming Soon!
This is a Human Leather and Human Bone ☼Girl☼. All craftsmanship is of the highest quality. The ☼Girl☼ is decorated with jagged spikes of spite. The ☼Girl☼ is decorated with hanging rings of boredom.

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The Oblong Collective
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Postby The Oblong Collective » Wed Jun 12, 2019 7:38 am

Selan Congress wrote:With that, she set about collecting the injured, while Selat prepared a basic transmission for what remained of the communications array, hoping that he had at least been right, that they were not alone out here.


OCD Bane of Ozymandias, Bridge

A chill had set in on the bridge of the one of the finest Gwarth ships in the galaxy.

Aye, quite chilly it was.

For months the Bane of Ozymandias had been on patrol. Captain and crew rustled as their carrier hurled through the void, failing to meet any decent prey. While its escorts might falter in the face of necessity, the Bane's captain knew: the best way to prevent tragedy in the void, was to charge forth and rip it apart!

These months were not months of folly. Mere days ago they'd passed through Starbase 146 for refueling and resupply. It may have been one of the newest Oblong shipyards out in the frontier, but it lacked a certain... Discipline... Shared by the finer and better-prepared crew of their home starbase.

That their escorts were led by people of a different temperament was, alas, just one of the eccentricities of Command!

"Captain! We are receiving some sort of signal. From what I'm reading, it may very well be one of distress."

"Put it on audio, you fool!"

"Sir, I don't think I can... Analysis indicates that it may well be a call for help, though. Recommend we-"

There was a growl.

"Hail the Suppressor of Sorrow. Have them investigate. The other ship will stay with us. I want a solid ten fighters with her, in case our marines can seize a prize today!"




OCD Suppressor of Sorrow, Bridge

The lights were dimmed on this cruiser, as its crew deliberated what had to be done.

"Captain, the Bane has ordered us to approach some mysterious readings. Seems like a distress call. Our technicians picked it up and we're still trying to fully translate the message. After all, what might be a distress call to some might be some elaborate warning- or just a beacon for other ships."

The Captain's many eyes narrowed one by one. "Any luck, lieutenant?"

"No, sir. The specifics of the message are still unclear."

"Well, we still have our orders. Navigator, take us in."

"The Bane just launched ten Ravengers. They're forming up alongside us."

"Those little ships will catch up to us regardless. Advance!"




So it was that a single Obstruction class cruiser and ten Ravenger class assault fighters hurled forward, following the Sirneval's signal. The Ravengers quickly overtook the cruiser, hurling more rapidly towards the source of the signal. Gwarth Marines huddled in each Ravenger, ready to pounce out and seize the ship for the glory of their crew... And yet, there was a motley assortment of other peoples among the collection of Marines. A few humans, a couple of Cybernetics, and even the rocky form of an Ancient were among the crews of the Ravengers, ready to respond to the signal and do what had to be done.

Hopefully, fate would not force a confrontation, but fate makes fickle fools of us all.
Last edited by The Oblong Collective on Wed Jun 12, 2019 7:40 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Selan Congress
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Postby Selan Congress » Sat Jun 15, 2019 5:47 pm

The arrival of the strange craft hadn't gone unnoticed, indeed, Selat practically jumped when he saw them appear on the remains of the display lattice. If there was anything the ship still had in abundance, it was sensors, and he turned as many of them as he could onto the incoming craft.

What he saw wasn't what he had hoped. The hull geometry was heavy and dangerous, their approach vectors were too uniform, as if flying in formation; these weren't scientific vessels or rescue craft, they were attack ships.

Surely this couldn't be what awaited them here. Space was dangerous, that they knew, the scars of the war that had come before had been a constant trouble for navigation - on consideration, they might have even been responsible for the malfunction of the superluminal drive. He wished that he had the time to study it.

Selvas was looking over his shoulder at the readout, likely trying to discern meaning from them. He knew very well that she couldn't read the Solvarin dialect. "It's fine, Kir-Selvas, I was right, there are others here. Surely they will understand."

The towering female looked back at the display lattice, briefly tracing the trajectory of one of the incoming ships with a talon. "There are many of them, Solvarin. Aid rarely comes in force, rarely in battle-charge." Something else appeared on the lattice, something much larger, even moreso than the Sirvenal itself. "What is that, Solvarin?"

If there was any hope left in him, it fled then. There may have been doubt in the smaller craft, who is to judge the intent of the unknown, of course, but this newest arrival... was a warship. Weapons were clearly discernible from even the limited available information at this range, and it mounted enormous amounts of them. The Sirvenal had a single laser, mounted at the fore of the ship, and firing it for any effective period would drain the ship's batteries to nearly nothing. With the reactor... gone, and the solar arrays largely destroyed, they wouldn't last long at all. "I'm not sure," he lied. Selvas turned back to the display lattice, trying to discern some detail in it.

The current message was an arecibo distress signal - a complex radio modulation that, hopefully, would be interpretable. If that hadn't worked, or they had simply chosen to loot a crippled ship like some kind of exiles, then he was effectively out of options.

By the time he turned back to Selvas to tell the truth of the situation, she was gone, as were most of the collected Sessarin.




Selvas had gathered the uninjured Sessarin and, from the ship's schematics, quickly ascertained likely entry locations if the ship was to be boarded; if these creatures of other stars were what they seemed to be, they would find the ship more worthy of a claim than as ruin. The Sessarin would fulfill their task. If the newcomers were not here to their aid, then the Asersin would surely be able to make something of their ships.
Bird Aliens with a Caste System and widely varying levels of industrial development, technological development, and a near total lack of general urbanization. Wouldn't look out of place in the Bronze Age if not for the Railguns and Near-Light-Speed Drives. And the whole, large bird aliens thing.

Factbook Coming Soon!
This is a Human Leather and Human Bone ☼Girl☼. All craftsmanship is of the highest quality. The ☼Girl☼ is decorated with jagged spikes of spite. The ☼Girl☼ is decorated with hanging rings of boredom.

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The Oblong Collective
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Postby The Oblong Collective » Sat Jun 15, 2019 11:51 pm

With the reactor... gone, and the solar arrays largely destroyed, they wouldn't last long at all. "I'm not sure," he lied. Selvas turned back to the display lattice, trying to discern some detail in it.


Suppressor of Sorrow, Bridge

"Captain..." The Communications Officer mumbled as much of the bridge crew stared unceasingly at the viewscreen before them.

"What is it, Lieutenant?"

"Sir, they're confirming that it's a distress signal. These patterns, there's little else to interpret."

Before the Captain could respond, another voice called out.

"Our sensors indicate that the ship is in trouble, sir, and not just visually. We've detected limited power. As you can see, they certainly look like they've seen much better days."

"Understood, Navigator. Tactical, get me the Head of the Marines for those Ravagers."

"... He's back on the Bane. Each fighter reports that they're led by a..."

"Hail all fighters!"

"Hailing!"

"All ships, have you discerned the state of your target?"

There were various signals, some less clear, with various Sergeants and Platoon Leaders reporting that, indeed, they were aware of the target's vulnerable state.

"Recall that this is a first contact situation!"

At this point, the Ravagers generally surrounded the Sirvenal.

Acknowledgement gradually trickled in, though the crew could hear the groans and restlessness of the Gwarth platoon leaders.

"Captain." The Communications Officer slid off her post and crawled over to his side. Though it was difficult for a Katalak mouth to bend for a more private conversation, she tried her best to whisper.

"Recall the kind of people deployed on a Ravager."

When she saw the Captain's eyes widening, she quickly scurried back to her post.

"You lot!" The Captain cried out, and the cruiser broadcasted the message across the entire squadron. "Remember what mission this is: we are engaging in First Contact with a new alien species, not attempting to 'gain Glory for the Collective. I repeat: all units stand down. All units, stand down! If any of you breach protocol, you are getting a court martial on Katal, do I make myself clear?!"

There was a flurry of transmissions, no doubt even the communication staff on the Sirvenal would detect a flurry of comm traffic.

"... What would you have us do, sir?"

"One ship is to approach the unidentified vessel. I suggest you follow standard procedure. In the event your crew is fired upon, recall that your armaments might have given them the impression that this is a boarding operation. Each ship has a few troops who lack claw gauntlets and can appear unarmed, yes? Recommend you send them in first, unarmed..."

There was a pained groan as the various Ravagers started to break off from the Sirvenal and regroup near the Suppressor of Sorrow.

"Aye, Sir..." A certain Gwarth Marine Sergeant answered. "My team has a few humans in it. Maybe they can seem less formidable in the eyes of these unknowns. We're going in."

As one lone Ravager approached what seemed to be a docking bay, the Suppressor of Sorrow gradually reoriented itself towards that structure as well, moving rather slowly. If the Sirvenal was attempting to use what power it had left to scan the cruiser, it would have found its many guns silent and powered down.

Even then...

"Tactical, have our gunners load a few missiles."

"Sir?"

"That ship could be a very convincing trap, falsely wounded to deceive us into lowering our guard. While our main guns are currently inactive, and will stay that way for now, I want to have some insurance in case they, or something else, starts shooting at us."

The single Ravager approached quite near the Sirvenal, and gradually closed in. There was a point that seemed like a better entry location, if the Suppressor of Sorrow hoped to dock with this mysterious ship, so the Ravager prepared to unload her crew.
Last edited by The Oblong Collective on Sun Jun 16, 2019 2:59 pm, edited 4 times in total.

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Selan Congress
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Postby Selan Congress » Fri Jun 21, 2019 12:37 am

Selvas had briefly stopped back in at the command room on her way to the transfer lock; Selat quickly waved her over to the display lattice. All but one of the ships had broken off. That didn't make any sense. "They plan to take us with only one?"

A broken part of the display lattice flickered back to life, revealing where the rest of the craft were waiting. Talsen promptly rose into view. "Perhaps they only see us as simply as we see them?"

Selat was quick to agree. "I hope so."

It was possible, perhaps even likely that they were right. Then this first craft was a scout, a means to test their defenses. "If they are as Sevarin, then they are afraid of us." She paused. "Or what they believe destroyed us."

"They are warships, if they are not Sevarin, than there are great risks here," said Talsen, "Perhaps their acts are justified."

He was right, of course, if this was a dangerous place then the sudden appearance of a ship would be cause for concern; with the possibility that their ability to see them was no better than their own, breaking off most craft seemed understandable. Something within her denied it as falsehood; she had been betrayed too often. "The Sessarin will be prepared nonetheless."

Talsen nodded in respect. "I hope your caste is not needed, Kir-Selvas."

She returned the gesture. "As I. But we will be prepared." With that, she continued on to the transfer lock, Selat quickly gathering a contingent of Solvarin who could be spared from their duties for attempts at communication, and joining her.

In the transfer lock, rudimentary barricades were set up of containers and bits of hull, behind them, the young Sessarin, and the memory of the First Congress engraved in the wall. It was a final reminder of what they had pledged to become. There weren't quite enough rifles to go around, but the blades of the Sessarin were sharp and ready. Someone was idly tapping out a half-remembered war song.

There was fear, but the Sessarin would not break.
Bird Aliens with a Caste System and widely varying levels of industrial development, technological development, and a near total lack of general urbanization. Wouldn't look out of place in the Bronze Age if not for the Railguns and Near-Light-Speed Drives. And the whole, large bird aliens thing.

Factbook Coming Soon!
This is a Human Leather and Human Bone ☼Girl☼. All craftsmanship is of the highest quality. The ☼Girl☼ is decorated with jagged spikes of spite. The ☼Girl☼ is decorated with hanging rings of boredom.

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The Oblong Collective
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Postby The Oblong Collective » Fri Jun 21, 2019 10:02 pm

Selan Congress wrote:
It was possible, perhaps even likely that they were right. Then this first craft was a scout, a means to test their defenses. "If they are as Sevarin, then they are afraid of us." She paused. "Or what they believe destroyed us."

"They are warships, if they are not Sevarin, than there are great risks here," said Talsen, "Perhaps their acts are justified."


OCD Suppressor of Sorrow, Bridge

"Full stop!"

"Stopping."

The Captain's eyes narrowed as his vessel's thrusters kicked in, forcing the ship to cut its forward movement to nothing. As the ship's thrusters continued to pivot, he spoke once more:

"Tactical, can your sensors give us any assessment of what might happen to those marines?"

"Negative, sir. While the target ship is clearly damaged, our sensors have failed to penetrate it much. We know that they have what appear to be crew preparing for boarding operations, but I doubt we need to inform those Marines of that. If they can't even predict th-"

"I won't have us belittle our brethren, Lieutenant Commander. Hail the Sergeant and let him know what we know. How much resistance can they expect, Commander? Our men must know."

"Aye, sir..." The Tactical Officer grumbled, rather loudly, before sending those transmissions.

The Captain sighed. Despite all those efforts to unite the races, they still had a ways to go it seemed. But in a way, he could not blame the Commander. After all, the Captain was an Ensign once, on an Obstruction that was one of the older models. Their little ship had been hit by three Imperial Tyrant class carriers that surrounded them, and the Katalak crew within had to face waves of Ravagers and Gwarth marines boarding their very ship! The Ensign and his crewmates had their fair share of steel claws slashing through their forms, and the Ensign had witnessed his comrades die as his own eyes were bathed in blood.

How any of them could truly move on from those days... It was truly a mystery.

"Sir... We're receiving a signal from the Bane. They see that most of our Ravagers are alongside us instead of burrowed into the target's hull. Her Captain demands to know what we're thinking."

The Captain of the Suppressor heaved a deep sigh. "Patch us through."




Master Sergeant Krawt Gren snarled at the sight of his men restlessly stomping about. "What are you, panthers in heat? We are Marines, not wild beasts. Get a hold of yourselves."

"But sir... You heard our orders!" A corporal hissed. "We are to allow our human compatriots to enter first... Unarmed! Either those Katalak want us dead, or they somehow fear these creatures hiding before us."

"Be that as it may, we have our orders. We must obey them; honor demands it!"

"We're ready, sir!" A pair of humans in standard battlesuits called out. Their helmets were tight, with visors down. Had Krawt never seen a human before, he might have assumed they were some sort of insect with luminescent red eyes or something.

"I regret to have you leave your rifles behind..." Krawt scoffed. "But you heard our orders."

"Yes, sir. Recep has a notepad, but I took some American sign language in school. I'm sure we can both try communicating with them."

"Good luck with that, Sergeant." Krawt sniffed as he eyed the shorter being. "Make your clan proud."

"I'm a Roosevelt, sir. We've always been." Sergeant Roosevelt snickered as he and Sergeant Recep stepped forward into the unknown. Their arms were raised, as though they were surrendering, but in truth they hoped the other beings would see that their upper limbs were not carrying any weaponry of any kind.




OCD Suppressor of Sorrow

Heavy snarling filled the intercom as their transmission went through.

"What is the meaning of this, Captain?"

"Sir..." The Suppressor's Captain grumbled in response. "This flotilla is under your command, but this is a first contact situation. We have no justification to attack this vessel, with Marines or otherwise. I think it is best to follow protocol, and if they express hostility we would have a most valid reason for sending in the rest of our Marines."

"You should have confirmed your orders with me first! My Marines were not deployed just to let them see what ten Ravagers look like! Do you think they are there for show, Captain?"

The Suppressor's Captain began to speak, but his Gwarth superior raised a paw.

"We have a chain of command for a reason. I will take my ship forward, bringing that target well into range of my missiles. Yes, I ensured that my Tyrant would have them: even if they are a less valiant weapon, they are certainly quite useful. But consider it an honor: both your ship and its sister will witness this glorious victory against the unknowns... I will grant you that Oblong policy is to not destroy those who never threatened us, but if they make one false move, I will have the rest of the Ravagers overwhelm their puny vessel, and have all three of our ships blow it out of the stars if our Marines are murdered. Do I make myself clear?!"

At that, the Captain of the Suppressor of Sorrow could only heave a deep sigh. "Aye, sir. I understand completely."

And so, both the Bane of Ozymandius and its other Obstruction class escort began their approach, rapidly advancing upon the Sirvenal.
Last edited by The Oblong Collective on Fri Jun 21, 2019 10:10 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Selan Congress
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Postby Selan Congress » Sat Jun 22, 2019 6:51 am

In the transfer lock, the approaching marines would've been greeted by an extremely odd sight.
Sword points.
The Selan nearest to the door were carrying swords and axes, striking an odd contrast with their armored space suits; behind them, behind ramshackle barricades, and, of all things, shields, were those carrying the more modern weapons that the marines had likely been expecting. The weapons slowly lowered when it became clear that the newcomers were neither hostile nor armed.

Selvas got out from behind her own cover and made her way to the newcomers, ultimately keeping a fair distance while pacing around them in inspection; there had to be certainty that this was not a trap. They were the size of males, and built similarly; any greater detail about them was as obscured by their armor as the Sessarin's own. The armor that they wore, though, was almost entirely unadorned, indeed it was uniform to the point of being nearly impossible to distinguish between them. Most importantly, they were as unarmed as they seemed; apparently they had realized the flaws in their original approach to the Sirvenal.

They were strange, but at the moment, harmless. She turned away and called for the Solvarin to enter.




Where the apparent leader of the armed group had been nearly eight feet tall, the one at the head of this new group was a fair measure under six foot, even shorter than the pair of marines, and indeed, most of the others in the room. The leader of this new group, who was carrying an assortment of notebooks and computer tablets, stopped briefly to say something to the leader of the armed group.

"I told you there would be no need, Sessarin," he tilted his head sharply to the creatures standing at the other end of the transfer lock, "They are quite unarmed."

Selvas bristled at that, visible only through her armor by the change in posture. "You have said many things on this ship, Solvarin, and yet you have brought us here."

The Sessarin was right, of course, he had no way of really knowing the intent of the aliens, and it was his design that had done this to them in the first place. There wasn't time to dwell on it, and he couldn't allow himself to, he simply left the Sessarin behind and approached the aliens. He handed one of them - he wasn't quite sure who exactly was the leader - one of the tablets and set it to play a video; a hastily assembled visual overview of the damage to the Sirvenal and the injuries of the crew. '

If there was any mercy in these aliens, they would help them.

If there wasn't, he had killed them all for a second time.
Bird Aliens with a Caste System and widely varying levels of industrial development, technological development, and a near total lack of general urbanization. Wouldn't look out of place in the Bronze Age if not for the Railguns and Near-Light-Speed Drives. And the whole, large bird aliens thing.

Factbook Coming Soon!
This is a Human Leather and Human Bone ☼Girl☼. All craftsmanship is of the highest quality. The ☼Girl☼ is decorated with jagged spikes of spite. The ☼Girl☼ is decorated with hanging rings of boredom.

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The Oblong Collective
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Postby The Oblong Collective » Sat Jun 22, 2019 9:13 pm

Selan Congress wrote:
The Sessarin was right, of course, he had no way of really knowing the intent of the aliens, and it was his design that had done this to them in the first place. There wasn't time to dwell on it, and he couldn't allow himself to, he simply left the Sessarin behind and approached the aliens. He handed one of them - he wasn't quite sure who exactly was the leader - one of the tablets and set it to play a video; a hastily assembled visual overview of the damage to the Sirvenal and the injuries of the crew. '

If there was any mercy in these aliens, they would help them.

If there wasn't, he had killed them all for a second time.


Sergeant Recep Guler of the Oblong Marine Corps, which was really just a fancy subdivision of the Stellar Navy, had long considered himself to be an artist at heart.

As he glanced at the tablet while Roosevelt stared at it more intensely, Guler quickly began drawing an image of an Obstruction class ship, boxy frame and guns and all.

On the ship he drew the cross, the symbol of the Red Cross that remained the symbol for Terran and eventually the Oblong Medical Corps as a whole. But since he was well aware these aliens might not understand what it meant, he drew a human form, which he assumed these people would understand represented his own species, and proceeded to draw the person split in half with torn arms and legs.

It might have been an extreme gesture, but he proceeded, using arrows to signify progression, to redraw that very same human covered with a bandage, with missing limbs now fully intact with the rest of the body.

Recep quickly drew, on a second page, the image of a wrench in a circle, the symbol of the Engineering Corps, and shattered wiring that supposedly had sparks falling out of it. He proceeded to draw a number of humanoid forms, underneath that circled wrench, attempting to fix what rough image the Sirvenal seemed from the Ravager's windows, and the ship thus firing its engines once again.

A third image had a rough image of an Obstruction again, with the symbols of the Cross and Circled Wrench inside of it, roughly where the actual rooms for both corps (Sickbay and Engineering respectively) would be on the actual ship.

Recep finally reached into a compartment on his suit on his back, slowly pulling out a rectangular packet of gauze, featuring that prominent cross symbol on it. He handed the two pages of drawn images and that piece of gauze, which he assumed the aliens would open to confirm what it was, to the nearest observing beings.




"Captain..." Roosevelt called out after tapping his helmet. "This is Sergeant Gregory Roosevelt, I'm on the alien ship. They've brought what seem to be administrative people or engineers over, but they seem to be in dire straights. Requesting backup from the Suppressor itself. We need medics and engineering crews immediately. There are wounded, and the ship clearly needs repairs."

OCD Suppressor of Sorrow, Bridge

Both the Captain of the Suppressor and the Bane overheard those transmissions.

"Roosevelt? You sent humans into that ship instead of noble G-"

"Claw Gauntlets would doubtlessly inspire fear and potential hostility, and that would be a violation of regulations to actively pick a fight." The Captain of the Suppressor of Sorrow sighed. "My ship is better able to dock with the alien vessel. Sergeant! We're having your fighter pull out. My ship will dock with that port instead. Stay there, help is on the way!"




The Sirvenal might have noticed the Ravager that initially docked with them suddenly detach itself from their ship and back away, as the far more massive Suppressor of Sorrow began deploying its docking bridge as it attached itself to that original opening. A single hover-gurney moved in first, followed by members of the Medical Corps. Their uniforms featured the Cross Symbol and they slowly raised their tendrils to reveal labeled medical supplies and equipment, waiting for any Sessarin to approach and verify what they were carrying.

Upon the gurney it was written, in large letters that were plastered across it: "Made On Terra."

An engineering corps was right behind, gradually piling behind the physicians and nurses who were scrambling to fulfill their oath.


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