Nation Maintenance for the Interstellar Empire [CLOSED]

[Nyte]

OOC Spiel:

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This is the home of nation maintenance for the Interstellar Empire of Nyte. Here I'll be posting news, stories, and various events that I simply do not have the time to work out via RPing, or with a full sized story. Feel free to check it out, but this thread is closed to outside comments and posts. If you would like to comment, or if you have questions, please feel free to send me a TG.

Thank You,
Nyte

[Nyte]

Directory of Stories

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SNN News Stories and Articles:
The Stellar Faerie
WAR!
A Little 4D Chess Never Hurt Anyone
The Empire's Recruitment Woes
The Butcher
Wanted: Big Guns And Big Hulls
Interstellar Whack-A-Mole... Where Will It End
Suicide Convoys?
All Is NOT Quiet On The Gamman Front
Infrastructure High
AI Rights
Scythian Protectorate Established In The Acheron System

A Prelude To The Daemon War [story arc]:
In My Dreams I Can Clearly See
Ouroboros
The Best Laid Plans...
Cleaning Out The Closet

Tales From The Daemon War:
Numb
Red Snow
A Thousand Little Deaths
Rip and Tear
The Attack of the Dead Men
Unrepentant Nuclear Thuggery

New Toys and Other Military Things:
The Sound of Rain
Whispering Steel

Diplomatic Matters:
Requiescat In Pace
The End Of An Ally

A Slice of Life
Jericho
And Watch As The Ships, Go Sailing...

[Nyte]

S.N.N.

Your Source of News on the Intranet

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Amalia, the Interstellar Empires 'Stellar Faerie' kicked off her third concert tour earlier today, and by all accounts, it certainly was a spectacle despite the fact that there were no tickets... Indeed, unlike the rest of her scheduled performances; which will be taking place throughout the Interstellar Empire and, for the first time ever, outside of the Empire's borders as well, this performance was streamed for free on several different channels on the Intranet."

"That's not all however, as the performance; which is being lauded as one of the, if not the most spectacular musical performances in the history of the Empire could never have happened without help from, and the cooperation of the Empire's armed forces as the entire eighty minute concert was performed from the bridge of the Dreadnaught 'Nemesis' while her and her escorts were in orbit of Nyte. To add to the spectacle, cameras positioned throughout the orbital defense network were patched in to the stream, catching the show from thousands of different angles... A show which included several hundred squadrons of fighter craft and nearly a dozen different ships firing specialized fireworks and displaying a light show that was clearly visible - even from the surface, as they slowly made a single orbit around Nyte in that eighty minute period."

"The show included a number of fan favorites such as Unravel, Synchronicity, and Glassy Sky, and came to a jaw dropping conclusion with the introduction of a new, previously unheard track called In My World that was accompanied by the crescendo of the display being put on by our armed forces. Several hours after the show, our reporters caught up to Amalia herself, and when asked why she chose to involve the military in the start of her most recent tour, she replied simply that it was done to show a little support and appreciation for our troops who lately have gone further from home than ever before in their efforts to protect not only our own citizens, but also a large number of mostly defenseless refugees, and to clamp down on the ever increasing pirate activity that has been so prolific of late throughout the region."

"The first actual live concert in Amalia's tour kicks off early next week with an already sold out performance from the Palace Amphitheater on Nyte, and will then continue with another forty performances spread throughout the Empire and beyond before coming to a close with a final performance on GESO's Talos Station just over four months from now. Get your tickets while you can though as most of the earlier dates are already sold out and the rest are going fast."

[Nyte]

In My Dreams I Can Clearly See
09/11/0001AG
The strange dreams I have been having continue; confusing and disjointed as they are... I had hoped that my militant actions against the guilds would have perhaps changed them for the better, but this has not been so... I see myself still; looking out from a great height. The room around me is a dark one, its details hidden within the shadows... Outside is blood, fire, and smoke... There is screaming as well; distant but filled with pain and terror. From behind me, there is the sound of an opening door... The carrion scent of death strikes my nose, and I know that my own death stands there behind me in the doorway though I cannot yet see what form it will take...

So, I have begun to take steps. As nothing I have yet done has changed what I have foreseen, I will instead begin to prepare these people for what I know is to come; though I know not when it will be, or if any of my preparations will be enough... I can only hope.

03/13/0079AG
The dream has changed again... More of the details have become clear to me now, and they have done so I think, as a result of the preparations I have begun. The room around me has become clearer; the desk in my new office sits, large and heavy behind me; its dark wood polished to a near mirror sheen reflecting the fires from the city below... The very city being rebuilt now before my very eyes; the skyline, though new to the people living there is already very familiar to me; having seen it as I have over and over again night after night.

Behind me, the door opens once more... There is a sound of liquid dripping; drool pattering against a glossy black marble floor... The sound of ponderous, heavy steps reaches my ears and I begin to turn...

05/11/0213AG
I know now the beast behind me... It is a daemon I am sure; a beast from the darkest pits of myth and legend... Outside, flame wreathed shadows dance and caper amidst the screaming and pain and death... It is an army; an army of nightmares made manifest...

So now I know what it is that I must prepare them for... And I cannot fail. I will not fail...

01/22/0398AG
It is raining blood. Warm, viscous, and steaming as it patters against the window. The noise of this bloody rain nearly drowns out the sound of death inexorably closing in behind me... I turn nonetheless; the movement weighed down by a suit of ornate armor... The same as the one that sits, even now, in my personal armory... Though I have yet to see this daemon, I feel I know it well... As if it were an old friend from another life... There is a smile on my face as I turn; though it doesn't reach my eyes, and it is far from happy...

I open my mouth; a witty comment on the tip of my tongue...

10/01/0453AG
"Hello old friend" I comment as I turn; the glow from the window causing the laser-etched golden designs in my ebony colored armor to glow a dim red... The daemon is there, looming massively from the shadows... There is a heavy weight in my right hand; looking down, there's an ornate blade glinting dully in the darkness of the room...

In my left hand is a much lesser weight; a small, rectangular object is held there... I know; despite the fact that I can't see what it is that it's important; even more so than the blade clasped tightly in my armored fist... I stuff the object into a concealed pocket at my waist and round the desk; my steps eager... Far more so than I would have thought as well

I'm so very tired... Tired of it all.

11/11/0497AG
"Hello old friend" Conrad Curze remarks as he turns to face his death. Just like in the dreams... The words come out perfectly; a product of so many years of nightly practice... The long blade of the force sword in his right hand begins to buzz angrily as it comes to life; violet energy writhing up and down its length as Curze steps confidently around his antique desk. The memory stick in his off hand goes into its pouch-like pocket just as it always has...

Behind him, through the bloody streaks of the rain on the window, Halcon; the capitol of the Interstellar Empire is burning; the distant sounds of violence seem oddly muted however; mere background noise to what is about to happen in this singular dark office... "Don't think I'll make it easy for you" he continues; the large anti-gravity wings; replete with thousands of ornate black feathers spread wide; like an animal trying to make itself appear larger and more threatening before an apex predator...

"Ave Dominus Nox... All Hail the Lord of the Night" Curze quips as he breaks into a run at the abomination that emerges from the shadows with heavy, ponderous steps... Racing towards the death that has finally come for him...

[Nyte]

Ouroboros
11/11/0497AG
It was all going to hell...

"Why haven't all of the concealed defenses been activated yet" Xaiah Morningstar barked out while observing the massed carnage happening throughout the capitol city of Halcon from a control room within the Emperor's palace... The answer to the question was disheartening and infuriating to the young Nytelord at the same time. "They still haven't been upgraded with the newest software yet. If we turned them on now, they'd kill everyone... Including the civilians and our own soldiers..."

"Fucking bureaucrats and their damned budget cuts" Xaiah muttered angrily to himself; though several of the nearby personnel undoubtedly heard it. "And the Emperor" He asked?

It took a moment for the response to come... And when it did, it was hesitant... "He's still in his office... He refused to be moved to the secure bunker..."

"Are you fucking kidding me" Xaiah growled out?. "Alright, I'll move him myself... Even if I have to drag him there" he finished; talking more to himself by the end than anyone else in the control room...

...

Why is the door open? Xaiah thought as he approached the Emperors office... His hands reflexively going towards the pair of short Force Swords sheathed across his lower back as his pace picked up... The scene revealed through the door when Xaiah got there was shocking, and for a short moment, Xaiah stood there stunned.

The lack of lighting did nothing to hide the ruined state of the room... From the busted windows letting in a steady torrent of viscous bloody rain to the cracked and cratered, black marble floor... And laying, broken amidst the shattered debris of his massive antique desk, was the Emperor who, despite his almost unnatural height, looked insignificant compared to the abomination that loomed over him in the darkness...

There was no thinking however... No hesitation either... Xaiah launched himself across the office; drawing and activating his Force Swords as he did so; ignoring the carrion stench of the daemon and how the violet glow from his swords made everything look so much bloodier than it already did. He landed hard on the daemon; the weight of his power armored form rocked it back through the remains of the desk as his blades moved up and down carving into its thick, blubbery flesh that sizzled as the blades carved into it.

Ramming the blades into the daemon's face, Xaiah triggered the built in sonic weapons in the blades, and roared with vindicated satisfaction as its eyes bubbled and ruptured outward ; splattering brain matter and pieces of the monster's skull across the room and his armored form...

He was off its carcass before it could hit the ground; rushing over to the remains of the broken figure that was Conrad Curze; Emperor of the Interstellar Empire, and the closest thing Xaiah had ever had to a father figure. He slid to a stop at the Emperors side unsure what to do, and as such, was taken by surprise when the Emperors broken body spasmed and he reached up to pull Xaiah closer.

"Its up to you now Xaiah" the words stumbled slowly out of Curzes mangled mouth along with a stream of dark, crimson blood. As he forced the words out, the Emperor grabbed Xaiah's arm and placed a bloody datastick into Xaiah's armored hand...

"Finish. What. I. Started." And with that, Conrad Curze breathed his last...

...

His world had devolved into a nightmare of sizzling blood and smoke... A nightmare in which all manner of... things, emerged; seemingly from every nook and cranny, and tried to kill him. They'd already picked off all of the senior Arbitrators, then one of the bigger ones ate the Sergeant... Now, Arbitrator Trainee Saul Croukus was the last one left... And he could feel their beady eyes on him; even through his ragged, damaged suit of power armor. Saul put his back to the wall, and continued to unleash short, controlled bursts from his combat shotgun into the shadows just as the Sergeant had taught him...

CLICK... Shit, shit, shit... he thought as he scrambled to load his last ammo drum with unsteady, shaking hands... The rapid pitter-patter of clawed feet on the bloody street came closer as he fumbled the ammo drum; cursing loudly as he did so...

He could feel their rancid breath; even through his armor, and every hair on his body seemed to stand on end in response. Saul closed his eyes; choosing not to see death coming as he crouched; still blindly fumbling for the fallen ammo drum... Then, just when he was sure he was about to die like the others, there was a loud thud in front of him, and Saul opened his eyes and looked up...

An onyx armored instrument of death stood before him; a pair of short, brutal looking Force Swords crackling in its clenched fists. "Get back to your precinct Arbitrator... We'll handle things from here" the Nytelord spoke; his voice cold, and filled with something unidentifiable, but more unnerving than even the things were...

Saul ran, not hearing the thuds of the other Nytelords dropping in from above to join their comrade, but the sounds of violence pursued his steps as he ran.

He did not look back.

...

It had been nearly two weeks since the Emperor had died in his arms, and Xaiah had not handled it all that well. He'd methodically killed his way across Halcon... Sometimes he was lucid as he did so. Other times, not so much... Between his own rage and self loathing, he'd taken in scenes of utter devastation and slaughtered innocents... He tried not to think of the death toll as he stomped tiredly, but determinedly down the hall. Ahead, he could hear the bickering of the Emperor's advisory council as they whined, bickered, and complained among themselves.

The guards at the door moved to stop him from entering at first, but something; perhaps the look in his eyes, or more likely the whine of the plasma pistols mounted on his armored wrists charging up clued them in that it would be hazardous to their health to involve themselves... Instead, they moved aside... They did not maintain eye contact.

Xaiah kicked open the old fashioned wooden doors, not caring as they slammed into the walls from the force of the blow. Instead, he approached the table in the center of the room; a massive round affair made from a massive chunk of platinum laced sapphire that could comfortably seat twenty-one; with the Emperor's seat being the ""head" of the table.

He ignored whispers of "The Bastard" and "Curze's son" as he approached... Instead, his anger built itself up, and with a snarl, he slammed a power armored hand down on to the table... There was a moment of silence that lasted until he withdrew his hand leaving a dirty, blood covered childrens doll smeared across the table in its wake.

"What is the meaning of this Morningstar" one of the old cronies snivelled... Either braver, or dumber perhaps than even Xaiah expected...

"I wanted you all to look upon the results of your handiwork before the end" Xaiah growled out; his eyes narrowing into slits... A few of the more intelligent councilors started edging towards the doors at that...

They wouldn't make it very far however before several other Nytelords appeared and blocked the exit.

"You can't do this" one of the braver ones hissed; torn between a mixture of growing terror and utter disbelief while several others voided their bowels in terror as they finally caught on to what was actually happening...

"Do you miserable old fuckers know what the Emperor said to me before he died" Xaiah asked; his voice cold and bitter? "He said it was up to me, and then he told me to finish what he started..." Xaiah looked about the room before he continued. " Who am I to deny my father his last request?"

[Nyte]

The Best Laid Plans...
12/07/0497AG

Well, no one ever said it would be easy. Victor thought to himself as he moved slowly through the smoldering ruins of what had once been the headquarters of the Assassins Guild in Halcon. How these fuckers survived an orbital bombardment of all things... He kept thinking as he made his way in deeper; stepping over the mounds of debris and corpses as he went. The answer to his last thought was actually fairly straight forward; several centuries of preparation can go a long way. How said preparation had gone unnoticed however?... Someone had clearly fucked up, and badly at that.

Victor shook his head and focused on the sounds of violence coming from further down. Dropping down through a ragged hole in the ruined floor, Victor landed amid a swirling mess of swinging blades and gunfire, and immediately strode forward to engage a small group of assassins; his chainsaw-bladed halberd adding its own meaty growling to the cacophony of noise as he charged in swinging.

The engagement was surprisingly short... Victor might normally move at a fairly sedate pace; one that easily concealed the explosive violence the man was truly capable of when properly motivated... Today he was properly motivated, as the shower of blood, gore, and severed limbs from his rapidly dying enemies could attest too.

Impaling his final enemy several brutal minutes later, he noticed somewhere in the part of his mind that was paying attention to, and directing the wider battle going on around him that the sounds of violence had finally petered out. Punting the remains of the assassin from his weapon, he turned to one of the other Nytelords nearby. "Continue searching the area" he ordered. "Make sure that this entire place is cleared out... No survivors... Spread the word."

The response was an abrupt salute as the Nytelord moved to do just that, and soon enough, squads of Nytelords and various heavily armed drones were once again on the move; spreading out in a search and destroy pattern looking to root out any possible survivors that might still be in hiding among the ruins.

Victor however, had a different task to attend to.

12/08/0497AG

"They're dead then" Xaiah Morningstar; newly crowned Emperor of the Interstellar Empire asked; calmly taking a sip from his glass of Amasec. He looked over at Victor, filing away the fact that the man truly appeared only slightly less dangerous without his ornate suit of power armor than he did with it.

"Yes" the Nytelord Sergeant replied tiredly... He purposely ignored his own glass of Amasec; and had done so for the entirety of the meeting.

"So" Victor continued. "Now what" he asked? "The guilds have been pretty much erased from existence; just as Curze vowed to do to them if they ever stepped out of line. The cultists responsible for this whole mess have been slaughtered enmasse and the flimsy legal protections that allowed them to operate within the bowels of the Empire have been removed... Hell, even the gangs have taken a massive hit; the few of them that didn't get cut down in the daemon invasion and the follow-up fighting have gone so far underground, they probably won't ever come back up again."

Xaiah sat down heavily; clearly tired, but there was a small smile on his face nonetheless. "Now" he hesitated for a moment... "Now we deal with more pressing matters."

An arched eyebrow was Victors only reply.

"I think" Xaiah remarked after taking another sip of the Amasec. "That you truly will hate me before the end Victor" he continued; his voice nearly a whisper. "Some day, I hope you'll be able to forgive me for that... Some day."

Xaiah set the now empty glass down on the table between the two and continued after seemingly shaking himself from his momentary funk. "We have more concerning matters to discuss anyway... Matters of retribution... Matters of war."

[Nyte]

Cleaning Out The Closet
12/29/0497AG

There was something particularly rotten running rampant through the so called upper crust of Nyteborne society... Something that went well beyond the decadence and overt displays of excessive wealth. Something about their presence was nearly vomit inducing; maybe it was the looks in their eyes; cold, dead, reptilian stares that could barely conceal their burning hunger for more, or perhaps it was the fake smiles, the fake laughter; mocking and condescending at the same time... Or, it could just be the veritable miasma of arrogance and inflated self worth with which they carried themselves; so sure in their delusions of superiority.

Xaiah was going to enjoy what was soon to come...

He mingled for a while, struggling to keep a realistic looking smile on his face as he forced down his third glass of Amasec to wash the taste of the bile from the back of his throat. Occasionally, he checked the time on the HUD superimposed over his left eye as he silently counted the minutes till midnight. Soon he kept thinking to himself as he pretended to listen to their vapid conversations. In the dark place in the back of his mind, he wondered what they'd really like to say... These old fools; fossil's of the Empire's dark, violent past. He wasted a few minutes on the luxury of daydreaming what could happen if these fools were allowed to continue with what they were planning; what they had been planning for years... decades... centuries. They'd never stopped really he though to himself. From the moment his father had allowed them and their ancestors to live they'd been plotting and scheming... Pity for them he wasn't his father... He wouldn't make the same mistake.

...23:59 flashed on the HUD. Xaiah grimaced, downing the last of his Amasec and dropping the glass on the overly polished floor. The sound of the glass shattering had a sort of feel to it... A gravitas. It cut through the conversation, and the room grew strangely quiet as they turned to look at him.

"You're all dead" he commented quietly to their confusion. "Fall over."

24:00 flashed, and he smiled as the windows exploded inwards. He took a seat; an island of pure calm amid a sea of violence, and picking up a new glass of Amasec, and savored the sounds of their screaming as several of his Nytelords slowly swept through the room leaving waves of vibrant crimson blood in their wake. He hummed to himself; a simple lullaby that his mother used to hum to him back when he was a child being put to bed. It didn't fit the atmosphere at all; not even a little bit, but that didn't concern him.

Across the Empire, the scene was being repeated... A long, long overdue cleansing was underway.

[Nyte]

S.N.N.

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WAR!

For too long the Empire has remained isolated, paranoid and alone in the night. For too long, the Empire has been reactionary; too concerned with attracting the attentions of the things that go bump in the night... Today however, the Empire shouts NO MORE! The hundreds of millions of dead Nyteborne scream out for vengeance, and they will have it. Even now, the slumbering beast that is the Interstellar Empire's war machine is awakening; slowly, steadily, the preparations are underway for the war to end all wars.

Across the Empire, the machines of industry are awakening. The Empire's fleets and armies are, even now, on the move, and no more will they be satisfied with just reacting to threats after they've already done their damage... No... Now we will be proactive. To those who would strike at us we have a simple message... WE ARE COMING FOR YOU!

[Nyte]

S.N.N.

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With the onset of war, the Empire has begun shifting both personnel and military assets in vastly increased numbers. Reportedly, this shift is being carried out for a variety of reasons, and the increased activity throughout the Empire has reportedly been cause for some concern among nearby powers; several of whom have responded by shifting their own forces as a counter which has only escalated the entire situation even further. For the most part, sources in the military report that the posturing is to be expected, and as such, is not a matter of much concern, with the entire situation having been described by one anonymous source in the military as "empty saber rattling."

Despite all of this, the shuffle continues... Efforts by several intranet-based watch groups have attempted to track many of these movements, but the Empire's well developed system of subterfuge is reportedly being even more misleading than usual; making tracking the resources, personnel, and even entire fleets nearly impossible outside of military command itself. Potential fallout from these movements is something of a concern among some Nyteborne despite the assurances from the military however, with concern of an increased risk of attack by a hostile power seeming to be on the forefront of many a Nyteborne's mind in the wake of recent events.

Additional sources within military command report, however, that even with all of the shifting of military forces, and the subsequent need for the Empire's fleets to range further afield, that border security has not been lessened to any significant degree. Rumors as to how this is possible have run amuck online however, and a number of high profile media outlets have begun to question the veracity of these assurances despite the lack of supporting evidence one way or the other.

For updates on this story, follow us [HERE].

[Nyte]

S.N.N.

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Our top story of the day continues to be the Empire's ongoing military recruitment drive which has been a major media topic since shortly after the disastrous daemonic incursion of just a few short months ago. The need for additional manpower; both among the army and the navy continues to rise as recruitment numbers continue to fall short of the figures needed to keep up with the current production levels of military equipment and weaponry, and even navy vessels. Unconfirmed rumors coming out of military command in Halcon suggest multiple workarounds are being discussed; from increasing drone production, to loosening the Empire's current AI regulations, to simply increasing sign on bonuses and improving benefits packages to lure Nyteborne to a possible career in the Empire's armed forces.

Stay tuned to S.N.N. for continuing real-time updates on this topic here on S.N.N.; your source of news on the Intranet.

[Nyte]

The Sound of Rain
01/02/0498AG

"The units are entering effective range now Admiral."

"Good."

The Admiral's reply sounded distorted; as if several voices were speaking not quite in unison. That the reply was not spoken verbally by the Admiral, but broadcast to the bridge crew from a communication system connected directly to the Brain Direct Imaging System; or, as it was more commonly referred to, the BDI System, added to the overall creepiness of it... Though the crew was, by now, used to it as the system, while still a fairly recent development in the Interstellar Empire, had been in widespread use with the military for several years now.

The Admiral saw; with the mechanical eyes of his ship, a kaleidoscope of information and representative imagery... All of it pertaining to a loose cluster of five objects moving across the system at a significant percentage of the speed of light. His mind assimilated the information as it came in, and he watched; detached, yet also oddly curious as the five former asteroids split apart; each one fragmenting into tens of thousands of pieces... They were unimportant for the most part however. The important part was the massive kinetic penetrator that had been encased within each asteroid.

"The enemy defense grid is engaging."

And indeed it was, for what little good it seemed to be doing. At the range the loose network of satellites were firing, and with the ablative shield of several tens of thousands of high velocity asteroid fragments there to soak up the bulk of the incoming weapons fire, the effect was proving to be minimal at best.

"Initiate the second phase of the test" the Admiral ordered.

The second phase was simple in it's brutality. As the ablative asteroid shield was being steadily worn down, each kinetic penetrator split open along their rearward flanks revealing racks upon racks of fusion warhead equipped missiles. At first, these missiles were launched by the dozens, then by the hundreds, and finally by the thousands. To the Admiral's mechanical eyes, it looked almost like a fireworks display had blossomed into existence... Only to rapidly begin to wink right back out of existence as the missiles swiftly met their target; the satellite defense network that was loosely orbiting the planet... A fraction of a second later, the kinetic penetrators themselves entered the planets atmosphere before impacting the surface just a moment later; igniting the planet's relatively thin atmosphere into a raging firestorm before their abrupt and spectacular impact with the planet's surface.

"Make a note in the ships log" the Admiral remarked. "The fusion warheads on the missiles are probably an unnecessary expense for this new weapon... The kinetic force of the impact alone should be more than sufficient to guarantee a mission kill."

His mechanical eyes focused next on the planet itself... Noting to himself how the crust had fractured along the fault lines that the strike had actually been targeted against, and that the land had now joined the sky in burning as once dormant volcano's suddenly became active once more.

"I think it's safe to say" the Admiral remarked, "that this test has been a successful one..."

[Nyte]

Jericho
01/07/0498AG

They called him Little Troy... No one knew why; least of all Little Troy himself, as there was nothing little about the three hundred pound slab of Frenzon addicted muscle. They also called him stupid; though not to his face... Probably had something to do with the multicolored mohawk made of florescent spikes nailed into his head... Clearly, Little Troy didn't have much going for him in the brain department.

Not that Jericho cared really. To him, Little Troy was an obstacle that was about to be removed... Permanently.

As Jericho approached the door to the club; some low level dive called The Amber Peacock, he could practically feel Little Troy's piggy eyes focus on him from his spot posted up by the door... "Yo kind ain't welcome ere" he grunted out.

Jericho kept walking; his pace steady and measured. He slowly readied the hogleg concealed by the long leather duster he wore draped over his shoulders like a cloak.

"Ju deaf, fucker" Little Troy grunted out... "I sez ju ain't welcome ere" he repeated.

They'd be his last words... Jericho pulled out the hogleg and unloaded both barrels into Little Troy's head; right between his beady little eyes. Brain, bone, and a handful of flickering florescent spikes painted the wall by the door of the Amber Peacock. What the fuck even is a peacock Jericho thought to himself as he reloaded the hogleg. Stepping over what was left of Little Troy, Jericho kicked in the door, and calmly strolled into the club. He made his way deeper into the club; ignoring the strobing lights and naked women gyrating on poles... He pushed his way through the crowd of sweaty, throbbing bodies; pushing them out of the way when they didn't move fast enough. He was here for one reason only.

And there that reason was; sitting at a corner booth with some hired muscle... A half naked serving girl struggling to get away from him.

Jericho simply barged right in; flopping flamboyantly into the empty seat across from his target. "Antonii" he remarked just loud enough to be heard over the too loud music being pumped through the clubs speakers. "My account is looking mighty empty Antonii" he continued; thumping the hogleg down on the table; his finger already gently squeezing the trigger... "Where's my fucking money?"

The man, Antonii let go of the struggling serving girl; who, realizing what was coming, was quick to scramble out of the way. Jericho smirked at the man, and once more the hogleg spoke; both barrels turning Antonii's chest into a bloody hole as the manstopper rounds blew out his spine and the booth behind him; clipping one of the hired thugs in the leg and bowling him over. The other two thugs went for their weapons, but Jericho was faster; his cybernetic arms elongated... The fingers becoming clawed... He grabbed the first thug by his throat, twisted, and pulled; ripping the mans spine out with a spray of vibrant, crimson blood. The second thug was grabbed by the face, and a pair of clawed cybernetic fingers impaled him through the eyes before digging into his brain. He died twitching and soiling himself with barely even a whimper.

Standing up, Jericho ignored the pandemonium his violent display had caused among the club goers and moved around the booth to the last thug; the one who's leg he'd previously blown apart. He crouched down by the man, batting away his feeble attempts to defend himself. "Do let dear Antonii's father know he owes me a large amount of money" Jericho growled out; poking the thug in his mangled leg for emphasis. "I'll give him a week... Or he's next... Understand?"

The thug simply moaned pitifully; whether it was from the pain, or in understanding Jericho didn't care. One way or another, he intended to get his money. "Good boy" he said; patting the thug's cheek before standing up and taking in the now empty club. Chuckling, he whistled along to the too loud music as he calmly walked back out; stepping neatly over Little Troy's corpse once more as he did so.

[Nyte]

S.N.N.

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---

After a three month reign of terror, the mass murderer known as The Butcher was finally cornered by Arbitrators earlier this morning. The resulting shootout between The Butcher and the Arbitrators resulted in thirteen deaths; including The Butcher himself, and a pair of Arbitrators... Bringing The Butchers final death tole to forty-seven confirmed victims.

The identities of The Butchers victims are currently still being kept confidential until after all of their families or next of kin can be contacted.

Details of the shootout itself are being kept largely quiet, and details of the events leading up to, and including the shootout itself have proven to be hard to come by. However, upon the comments made by an anonymous source, it has been confirmed that The Butcher was shot a staggering one hundred and seventeen times, and when the S.N.N reporter at the scene asked the Arbitrators for comments, one Arbitrator; identity still unknown, remarked that he'd been shot that many times because that was the number of bullets they'd had at the time... The comment prompting some speculation among S.N.N. staff as to whether abuse of power may be becoming a problem among the Empire's Arbitrators.

For a timeline of The Butchers confirmed kills, follow the link [HERE].

Are one of your loved ones missing, to get the identities of The Butchers victims when they become publically available, follow the link [HERE].

[Nyte]

S.N.N.

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The successful testing of the Interstellar Empire's first "Titan" class vessel during it's prototype phase has led to a number of interesting developments for the Empire's Navy. The importance of such heavy hulls has been made readily apparent to a number of planners within the higher ranks of Naval Command who have, as such, spent the last several weeks ramming through an increased budget to expand the Empire's naval forces even further than recent construction efforts already have.

Leading this expansion is an as yet unconfirmed number of additional "Titan" hulls; as well as a significant number of other, "lesser" capitol ship hulls from the battleship to carrier range. While these numbers are as of yet unconfirmed, several high ranking members of the Navy, speaking anonymously, have confirmed that the expansion will be significant, possibly to the point of stretching the Empire's manufacturing infrastructure to it's limits for the first time in the Empire's history.

Follow S.N.N. on the Intranet [HERE] to keep up to date on this story and many others.

[Nyte]

S.N.N.

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Another minor conflict stemming from the Empire's current anti-daemon crusade has finally come to a close. This war; the 19th such minor war in a series of similar minor wars, has ended slightly better than previous ones as only a limited orbital bombardment was needed to remove the potential future threat of daemonic attacks coming from the system. Unfortunately, a number of vessels believed to be containing a combination of hostiles and cultists alike managed to escape through the navies loose blockade likely continuing the further spread of the daemonic influence to other nations throughout the region.

Navy forces however, continue their pursuit of these vessels; ranging even further into the Gamma and Delta Quadrants. Warnings put out by the Empire about the threat posed by these supposed refugees unfortunately, continue to largely be ignored despite the abundance of evidence and eye witness testimony. Even the public release of footage of the daemonic attack on Halcon itself seems to have had little impact in swaying opinions.

As the number of these refugees continues to increase, it is expected that the Navy will need to range even further away from the Empire's sphere of influence, and if current reactions continue as they are, the number of small wars is likely only to increase as time goes on; a matter of great concern for the people of the Interstellar Empire despite the current state of high morale and a burning desire for retribution among the common Nyteborne.

[Nyte]

S.N.N.

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Pursuit forces attached to the 117th Naval Taskforce have reported a series of boarding actions undertaken against a small convoy of "refugee" ships fleeing the path of the Empire's crusading forces. According to the after-action reports, things started off unusually well, leading the commander of the detachment to believe that this group may actually be free of the daemonic taint.

Unfortunately, this would turn out to not be the case, and it seems that at least some of these cultists are beginning to adapt to the methods used by the Empire's forces to detect them as it was only just before the pursuit force was about to declare the convoy free of taint that they struck; turning nearly a dozen vessels of varying manufacture and class into demented charnel houses crawling with the daemonic and their demented cultist followers. While the sudden shift in the situation caught the boarding forces off guard, they were quick to recover; though significant casualties have been reported.

It remains unknown exactly how many refugees were killed in this attack, though estimates range from thirty to forty-five thousand dead not including the vessels crews. It is unknown at this time how many of these actually were cultists, and the subsequent destruction of the convoy's vessels after the matter was concluded makes getting exact figures impossible.

A list of casualties from this operation; and the crusade as a whole, can be found [HERE]

[Nyte]

S.N.N.

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A massive daemonic outbreak has been reported in a region of Gamma tentatively being referred to as the Villic Reach; named as such by Admiral Nathaniel Villic after preliminary exploration efforts were carried out just before the recent daemon influenced hostilities began for the Empire. The region is home to nearly two dozen minor stellar powers, and while the region was originally considered to be of little real interest to the Empire, it is suspected to have become a refugee safe harbor since the early phase's of the war.

Limited contact between the Empire and the nations native to the region have left details concerning this outbreak few and far between, but utter chaos has erupted throughout the region and the few reports that have been relayed to the Empire indicate massive casualties and significant destruction of the local infrastructure.

Merchant and civilian travel into and out of the region is to be considered restricted; violators of this restriction will be fired upon without warning. Rumors coming out of the military indicate the build-up of a large scale attack force consisting of multiple fleets; with an offensive set to begin as soon as the beginning of next week. Preliminary containment efforts however, have already begun, and official communications channels have been utilized to warn neighboring regions of the threat in the area; requesting their noninterference and once more warning of the dangers of accepting refugees coming from the affected region.

Whether these warnings will finally be heeded remains unknown however.

Follow the link [HERE] for real time updates on this situation.

[Nyte]

S.N.N.

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---

The recent spate of hostilities in both the Gamma and Delta Quadrants has seen the need to bolster the Empire's infrastructure in its outlying territories. The last few weeks have seen the announcement of dozens of new projects; military and civilian alike, and upon their completion, will see a significant improvement to the infrastructure and the defenses of a dozen systems throughout the Empire's border territories; many of which have long been neglected in preference of the Empire's core systems.

A number of unconfirmed rumors circulating on the Intranet mention that this is likely only the first of several rounds of infrastructure upgrades being planned to begin over the next several months, with additional upgrades being rolled out in waves several months apart from each other. While these rumors are unconfirmed, there is some circumstantial evidence to support them; particularly among ship movements and a very large build-up of supplies at several depot's in the region. The military, unsurprisingly, has remained quiet on the matter, leaving the possible upgrades to the defenses entirely up to conjecture.

[Nyte]

S.N.N.

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---

In a process begun during one of his earliest meetings with his new advisory council, Emperor Xaiah Morningstar, earlier today, finalized the abolition of restrictions on AI throughout the Interstellar Empire. The new laws set to take effect next month; which have commonly come to be referred to as the Articles of AI Citizenship will grant to the Empire's AI the same rights and protections granted to all Nyteborne within the Empire's borders.

While discussing the new laws, Emperor Morningstar attributed the push for these new laws to his father Conrad Curze; the Empire's first Emperor, and mentioned that Curze's death came before he was able to finalize legislation on the matter, but that the early efforts to set the ground work of the laws had already been enacted shortly before Curze's death in the Daemonic attack on the Empire's capitol city Halcon.

While there have been some reports of concern from some Nyteborne about these new laws, the general public seems largely to be in favor of the laws at this time despite several small protests on Nyte, Dispayre, and Prosperine.

To see full copies of the laws in question. follow the link [HERE]

For details concerning the anti AI protests mentioned above, click [HERE]

[Nyte]

Numb
01/11/0498AG

Click, click, BOOM. The sound of the plasma shotgun reverberated through the cockpit; signaling another dead enemy. Daemon, cultist, it didn't even matter anymore... One kill, another heavy step forward... Two clicks and a boom; the same actions repeated with the emotionless, mechanical efficiency that came from utter exhaustion. Was it minutes earlier? Hours? Days? He'd had squad mates, friends then; however long ago it was. The four of them had advanced together in the beginning, cutting down filthy, gore encrusted cultists and daemons alike.

He was alone now though... His squad mates... His friends lay somewhere behind him; their mecha cracked open; their corpses crushed in their ruined cockpits. He'd been angry at first, but now he was just numb. Numb to the pain of his aching body and growling stomach... Numb to his eyes burning from lack of sleep. Numb to his grief over dead friends. Numb to the memories.

His mech racked the slide on the shotgun again; click, click... There was no boom this time... Power cells must have finally run dry. He reversed his grip and swung at another charging cultist, the mech sized shotgun slammed into the cultist with all the force of a large, rampaging animal. He dropped the weapon; ignoring the bloody mess that had once been a living creature, and drew the massive mech sized chainblade from its mount across his units back.

The meaty growl of the diamond toothed weapon roaring to life echoed off the walls as he continued to stomp forward... Always forward... Right foot, then the left; his mechs feet leaving bloody tracks across the broken pavement in his wake; sinking several inches into the blood soaked ground with every step. He paid it little attention however, more of them were coming, one of the bigger ones; even bigger than his mech broke through the fire and smoke all horns, spikes, and teeth... Too many teeth... It's tattered wings fanning the fiery embers of the burning city in it's wake as it charged; a massive blade of it's own clenched in it's clawed hands.

As they came together, he punched it in the face with his off hand; his mech's armored fist slamming into the daemon's jaw sending a mixture of blood, acidic spittle, and dagger-like teeth flying as its jaw broke... The blow did little though; seeming only to make it angrier as it spat blood at him; the spittle sizzling as it met armor plate and began eating away at it slowly.

They grappled together amid a writhing swarm of cultists and lesser daemon types that swarmed around them both; little more than background noise; a backdrop to be trampled into the bloody ground beneath their feet as they jostled for position. He grasped it by the throat and spun, using the massive chainblade as a counter weight; ignoring how it scythed through a dozen cultists as he launched the daemon into, and through a nearby wall... The remnants of a nean sign, depicting a gyrating, naked woman with oversized endowments flickered and sparked before cutting out as the bulk of his mech crashed through the rest of the wall after his foe. He ignored it, swinging at his enemies legs as it moved to regain it's footing.

The blow connected; the meaty growl of the blade changing pitch as it tore through flesh, then muscle, then bone as he cut the daemon down at it's knees. It fell roaring, thrashing about on the ground before him. It tried to swing up at him even as it thrashed about, but stomping down on its arm with a foot, he pinned it's blade down, and changing his grip, he drove the chainblade through it's hate filled, roaring face out the back of it's skull, and into the floor beneath. The blade bucked wildly in his mech's hands, but he maintained his grip and ripped the blade back up through his defeated foe... Ignoring the odd sucking noise it made as it was pulled back out.

He turned back towards the collapsed wall when the building; weakened by the destruction of one of it's walls, finally gave way under it's own weight with a pained groan; dropping five floors worth of concrete and steel on top of him. Distantly, he heard comms chatter; air support incoming... That couldn't be right though... He was the last one left... And he was numb. So very numb.

[Nyte]

Requiescat In Pace
01/12/0498AG

My sincerest condolences... The antique calligraphy pen scratched quietly against the high quality parchment for some time as Xaiah Morningstar; the Emperor of the Interstellar Empire continued to compose his letter to the young Solvieg Raza; the new Empress of the now newly minted Norse Empire. Applying his seal to the finished letter, he turned to a nearby aid "see to it that this is delivered with all haste... Also, I think three bottles of the 0458AG Sullun Autumnal are still in storage. Include them as well; they were my fathers favorite for a reason after all."

The aid nodded, took the sealed missive, and swiftly strode from the room... Within the hour, a fast courier vessel would be boarded by a pair of heavily armed Nytelords escorting a beautifully ornate. antique wooden case containing a simple hand written missive expressing the Emperor's condolences to her over the death of her mother Suzume Raza, and a trio of the rarest, most expensive bottles of Amasec in the entirety of the Interstellar Empire of Nyte. It would take them some time to track down the new Empress of the Norse Empire, but track her down they would. They had a package to deliver after all...

[Nyte]

The End Of An Ally
01/21/0498AG

"So, it's come to this then" Xaiah Morningstar commented as he set the report composed by his new advisory council down on his desk; a hint of disgust evident in his words. "The Scythians are no more then..." He turned away from the desk to look out the window; staring at, but not seeing, the repairs taking place across Halcon which was still scarred by the recent daemonic attack.

"What about the Scythian people" he asked after a short silence. "What is their status? Do we know?"

The reply was short, and to the point; given by a career military officer, it wasn't so surprising that this was so. "We've been tracking a veritable flood of refugees fleeing the collapse, and set up a check point in Acheron to receive the ones that are coming our way. It's been slow going, but the reports of this Karax has forced us to take drastic measures; the entire system is under our strictest quarantine protocols, and we're slowly clearing them and helping them get situated the best we can."

"And anyone infected with this Karax" Xaiah asked.

"Immediate euthanization; though we've done so as humanely as we can" came the reply. "We're not aware of a cure, and we can't risk an outbreak of this thing cropping up in the Empire itself. The infected remains are disposed of immediately... Its proven effective so far, but in the long term..."

"I see" Xaiah replied. "And the infrastructure in Acheron? Have there been any issues reported thus far?"

"The available infrastructure has proven to be sufficient for our needs so far, though an expansion is recommended if we want to avoid any major problems in the near future... We do need more Arbitrators though, and the sooner, the better as we have the entire set-up operating under martial law at this time. More Arbitrators would be really useful in maintaining order until we can get the Scythians back on their feet."

Xaiah nodded along with this, and turning back to his desk, began composing an quick, rudimentary order concerning the situation; the sound of his fingers typing on the holographicly enhanced keyboard being the only sound aside from their breathing in the office for several minutes. When he finished, Xaiah pulled the data stick and handed it over. "See that it gets taken care of General... That should cover your immediate needs; something more expansive will be set up by the end of the month so things should get easier for you after that."

The General took the offered data stick, and sketching a sharp salute, turned and left the office; leaving Xaiah alone to brood in the darkness of his office once more...

[Nyte]

S.N.N.

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---

The recent Scythian collapse in the Delta Quadrant has led to a flood of refugees seeking aid and succor from the Interstellar Empire. The exact number of refugees remains unknown at this time however, and reports continue to pour in as the number of refugee ships continues to grow; seemingly by the hour. To handle the influx of refugees, a dedicated checkpoint has been established in the Acheron System and all Scythian refugees coming to the Empire have been directed to make their way there through whatever means they have available to them.

Despite the Empire's largely isolationist history, and a preference to refuse entry or immigration by outsiders, the Emperor, Xaiah Morningstar has, if rumors are to be believed, already begun the legal process of setting up the Acheron System as the Empire's very first Protectorate State; allowing Scythian refugees to live and set up their own government while under the protective umbrella of the Interstellar Empire. Reports from a number of sources; some more trustworthy than others, indicate a large quantity of military shipping and cargo being routed to Acheron; shipping containing the raw materials required to set up the necessary infrastructure to support a population of at least several tens of millions of people; and possibly many more than that.

For more information on the Scythian collapse, follow the link [HERE].

For more information on developments happening in the Acheron System, follow the link [HERE].

Whats in it for us? Find out by following the link [HERE].

[Nyte]

Red Snow
01/24/0498AG

The screaming pursued him a he clumsily ran through the slush and snow. It was unnatural; red, and mixed with blood. He did his best to ignore that however... Focusing on his footing was more important right now. He slid around a corner; falling and sliding through the slurry on the churned up ground. He ignored the vulgar sensation of the bloody muck squealching through his fingers as he clawed his way back to his feet. Running was more important... He could hear their footsteps sloshing through the muck behind him; steadily getting closer by the minute.

He made the mistake of looking back as he rounded another corner, and regretted it immediately, They were clearly visible through the haze of falling snow... Red things; horned, vicious, and serpentine with long forked tongues lolling out from their slobbering mouths. He opened his mouth to scream when he slammed into a hard, metallic surface; falling backwards on his arse he looked up, expecting to see his death standing before him.

His eyes were met with a massive figure adorned in an ornate suit of polished black armor. On it's torso was engraved an ornate, silvery sigil depicting a daemonic looking skull being impaled by a flaming sword that stood out starkly; practically glowing amid the veritable field of onyx that surrounded it... Strange looking instruments?... tools?... weapons?... were held by the figure; his panicked mind wasn't sure.

"Move boy" the statement came from the figure; blurted out emotionlessly in galactic standard; though it was incomprehensible gibberish to the young boy as the figure reached out and bodily dragged him aside with one arm while raising the other; pointing what he now guessed must be a weapon in the direction in which he'd come from. The figure dropped him carelessly into the muck, and braced itself just in time as the tide rounded the corner...

The noise was physically staggering; a loud, whickering buzz that hurt the ears... The weapon bucked and vibrated as it fired, and whatever it was shooting proved quite effective; he watched with wide eyes as the slobbering horde was ripped apart and shredded; dismembered limbs and gore falling every which way. It was a horrific scene, but he just couldn't look away as the things that had killed everyone he'd ever known were ripped apart with a brutal efficiency. Somewhere in the back of his mind; buried beneath the exhaustion and terror, a part of him felt happy?... satisfied?... relieved?... He wasn't sure exactly.

Then suddenly... Silence. The weapon had stopped firing. The creatures... monsters... whatever they had been were a steaming carpet of meat scattered across the bloody, red snow. He looked up at the figure and found the front of the weapon pointed at him. His eyes widened... "Sorry about this boy" the voice spoke again to the uncomprehending youth. The galactic standard cold and emotionless as the trigger was pulled one final time...

[Nyte]

A Thousand Little Deaths
02/01/0498AG

Damien Sicanus walked slowly into the observation chamber; a simple, dark box with a cheap metal chair bolted to the floor. The only point of interest in the room was a large reinforced window with a view of the unusual room beyond. He sat slowly; hands folded in his lap and simply observed both the room, and it's sole occupant.

The room was indeed an unusual one; it's walls, ceiling, and floor were constructed of an unknown metallic substance that was etched with oddly unnerving sigils and designs; ones that hurt the eyes if looked upon for too long. Several automated weapon emplacements ringed the ceiling; each one aimed unerringly at the rooms sole occupant. Their aim adjusted a minute amount as the occupant twitched and shuddered every several seconds. With every twitch came an adjustment as each emplacement adjusted to keep locked on the occupant's center of mass.

The occupant was an unpleasant looking creature; an abomination of abused, roiling flesh and bone-like protrusions; limbs and mouths sprouted from its monstrous bulk in no seeming order; or at least no sane, sensible order. Smoke rose slowly from the abominations flesh as it seemed to be slowly cooking; it's flesh sloughing off in slow, blubbery waves before rapidly regenerating in an endless cycle.

He listened to the sizzle of its burning flesh... The low, unintelligible gibbering noises it made endlessly with no pause for breath... He took all of this in, and a part of him enjoyed it's suffering, and so he stretched out his own silence and simply enjoyed the abomination's torment.

"I know you can hear me abomination" he began after a time. "Though I know not if you can understand me. It matters little either way for I really don't care if you can... They tell me that you cannot die... They've shot you, burned you, cut you, blown you to pieces with explosives, pumped your rotting flesh full of poisons, acids, and other, stranger concoctions... They've tried freezing you, drowning you... Hmm, they've even dumped you into space... And yet here we are. Me, up here watching you, and you, down there jittering in endless pain on a cold metal floor in a cold metal cell."

"It doesn't matter however" he continued; a slight smile on his face as he essentially monologued to himself like some kind of cheap holovid villian. "We are, if anything, a creative people" he continued. "We'll keep trying" he explained as he leaned back against the uncomfortable metal chair. "After all, it seems we have all the time in the world... Eventually we'll get it right" he finished as his small smile grew into a full on smirk. "Until then, I'll simply sit back and enjoy the show."