Tales of the Dark Ages (Science Fantasy - Character RP - IC)

[Sao Nova Europa]

Tales of the Dark Ages

The year is 3001 AU (After Unification). The Empire that once spanned the entirety of the Milky Way is in decline. Emperor Hadrian IV is an old man, on his deathbed and unable to impose his will on the Galaxy. Dukes and Barons have asserted their de facto independence and ignore orders from the imperial center. Barbarians invade and pillage worlds in the Outer Rim. Piracy is flourishing even in the Mid-Rim. The Imperial Guards seem unable to impose order. Even worse, the Order of the Thousand Suns has fractured and a cult of evil sorcerers is threatening to plunge the Galaxy into a state of civil war.

Will the Empire fall and our Galaxy descent into an era of barbarity and depravity or shall it be restored to its former glory and reign for another thousand years?

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OOC

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STATE OF THE GALAXY: REPORT #5

Duke Aurelian Valerianus - one of the most powerful nobles in the Outer Rim - suffered a crushing defeat at the Battle of Lornerand. His fleet was devastated in an ambush set up by a coalition of five different Orc Warchiefs. The barbarians ravaged the Duke's home world of Zeldan, looting weapons, battleships and gold. The Imperial Security Agency firmly believes that this battle opens the way for large scale barbarian excursions into the Mid-Rim. The Imperial Court is advised to placate the Dukes of the Mid-Rim to form a viable coalition against the barbarian threat. Use of Imperial Guards in daring strikes against the Orcs is recommended.

[Thai Sweet Billy]

MIATA CLANCY
Town of Lusambo, Planet Koalea | Outer Rim
__________________________________

Ominous storm clouds gathered in the background around the town of Lusambo, flashes of lightning in the sky periodically lighting up the dark sheets of rain off in the distance. In addition to the heat and humidity of Koalea, the jungle world was also prone to huge storms that were not only feared for their destructive power, but were also much-needed breaks from the overwhelmingly sunny and hot days. Much of the climate was warm, wet, or sunny, with no cool breaks in between save for the storms.

Nestled in a gorge that led directly towards the vast ocean was Lusambo itself, a small trading post that resembled a primitive fishing village—and to a degree, it was, given the presence of small motorcraft that zipped to and from the ocean via the small river, likely to scour for fish or scrap in the sea. However, the impressive firepower of its civilian inhabitants and the presence of huge landing platforms and starship drydocks perhaps told another story about the nature of its inhabitants.

The largest building here was the Lusambo Aerospaceport — it seemed as if the entire town had been constructed around it. It was built atop the canyon and sported a massive landing pad and runway capable of servicing multiple frigate-class starships (or one capital-class ship, if it could manage to stay within atmosphere) at a time. The traffic control tower was even higher as it poked out above the town like a sore thumb.

The building was about as stock and average as civilian buildings in the galaxy came, lacking in many of the high-tech and sleek amenities and aesthetics that most Core World and even Mid-Rim worlds used frequently, save for a fully-stocked bar. The presence of dusted, old CRT computer screens and monitors said enough about its age, but there was one oddity.

A large, black flag flew from atop the tower. Lightning struck off in the distance, lighting up its features for a split second. The only iconography on the flag were four white skulls: an Orcish skull, an Is'in skull, a human skull, and a robotic head, all pierced by a lance with two crossbones beneath them. Everyone knew who the flag belonged to, and everyone knew the name well:

Death Company.

The young woman sitting alone in the aerospaceport bar had a bluish glow on her face from a screen built into the table. She suddenly looked up, flicking off the monitor of the gambling machine built into the table's frame. The small robot perched on her shoulder flexed its wing-liked "legs", making a beeping noise towards the entrance. She turned to the door and spoke up. "Settle down, Sparks. Come on in, fellas."

In walked in four individuals that the woman recognized right away: there was a tall elf with chocolate skin and dreadlocks—her First Mate, Hastor, a man from the original Blood Brigade who likely was thrice her age and had thrice the experience, but had spent much of it in hiding and was enigmatic enough that she didn't question why she wasn't taking orders from him. There was Ramu'Ven'Ulla, an Is'in that was a whiz with numbers, who served as her Quartermaster, the third in command. The avian alien practically single-handedly managed Death Company's supplies, and without his assistance, their flotilla would've been dead in the water.

There was also Arwin, a human from the Blood Brigade who was a masterful gunner and combatant, second to Hastor and the woman herself. He didn't speak much, but his actions in combat said enough.

Finally, there was Gung, an apt name for a robot, who served the dual roles of navigator and cook. The robot was probably twice as tall as Hastor and was military-grade, a walking violation of Imperial Rule on AI and robots, but his expertise didn't end in combat. He was a capable navigator, and was able to do the math for FTL calculations far faster than anyone in the room could, even Ramu.

With that out of the way, the young woman rested her feet on the table as she folded her arms. "Scooch up a seat, I've got our next job."

Hastor raised an eyebrow. "You think it's big, Miata?"

"It's big."

"Love the anonymity, cap'n." The elf muttered, pulling up a chair to the table as Arwin and Ramu repeated the gesture. Gung, of course, opted to stand up. "Whatcha got?"

"Gung, give us an overview on Planet Zeldan," Miata requested, gesturing to a map that had appeared on the table screen.

The robot took only a split second to begin speaking. "<<HOME WORLD OF DUKE AURELIAN VALERIANUS. ONE OF THE FEW CIVILIZED WORLDS IN THE OUTER RIM. SUFFERED A DEFEAT BY THE HAND OF FIVE DIFFERENT ORC WARCHIEFS NOT TOO LONG AGO, RENDERING THE AREA UNSAFE FOR CIVIL TRAVEL. THE ORCS WERE BELIEVED TO HAVE LOOTED A SUBSTANTIAL AMOUNT OF GOLD, WEAPONS, AND STARSHIPS. DISTANCE BETWEEN KOALEA AND ZELDAN IS APPROXIMATELY FOUR AND A HALF LIGHT YEARS.>>"

Miata snapped her finger as the robot said this. "That's our job, folks. We're going to be raiding the orc supply lines, taking what we can, and selling it. They're sluggish and brutish in space combat, we've got th' advantage of speed and violence of action. Now, ambushing Orc warships carrying gold and other loot is about as hard as it sounds, but they travel alone, and they can't fend off 20 of us attackin' 'em at the same time."

"So you're suggesting we send the flotilla against one ship at a time," Ramu muttered, placing a hand on the underside of his beak in a gesture that resembled putting a hand on one's chin. "It's risky, could be expensive."

"If we can't take out the ship and steal the booty, we can do with a portion," Miata added. "Leaving empty handed is worse than leaving with at least somethin' in our pockets."

"<<I CONCUR.>>" Gung chimed in agreement. "<<CALCULATING A RENDEZVOUS TO THE ORC LOOT-SHIPS WILL NOT BE DIFFICULT, NOR SHALL INTERCEPTING THE SHIPS BE.>>"

"We can't do nothin' to them outside of FTL, but if we were to get them early, before they jump... doing a quick hit and run in-system wouldn't be difficult at all." Hastor nodded. "I'll inform the flotilla of our new tasking. When are we leavin'?"

Miata stood up from her chair at that point, as Sparks landed on her shoulder. She spoke up without a moment to delay. "Now."

---==============---

The Mad Ranger's engines started up like an orchestra tuning their instruments, transitioning from a low growl into a harmonic hum that filled the air with a light ambience. Miata sat down in her chair as the main maneuvering engines of the starship lifted it up off the ground, billowing up huge plumes of thick, white smoke around the starship.

She gripped her seat as their starship notably tilted upwards towards the sky. "Gung, you've got flight controls."

"<<I HAVE FLIGHT CONTROLS.>>" Gung repeated aloud, taking the helm and bringing them into the sky as the main engines roared to life. A vapor cone formed around the frigate as it barreled away from Lusambo, which had quickly become a speck in the distance before it was blotted out by the dark storm clouds. The Mad Ranger shot through the sky like a speeding bullet, unaffected by neither rain, nor wind, nor lightning, as it fought its way through the encroaching storm that rattled the ship like a child's toy.

Then, for a moment, all was quiet as they breached the uppermost cloud layer. A feeling of weightlessness briefly filled Miata's body before the starship's artificial gravity took over, anchoring her to the floor. Soon, the sky made way to open space, and the maneuvering thrusters cut off to allow the main engine to do the heavy lifting, only firing off if the ship needed to make small, incremental movements.

They aligned themselves with a star off in the distance, a star notably brighter than the others. Gung's fingers danced along his console like a pianist before he spoke up in his same deadpan tone. "<<ALIGNED WITH LORNERAND, DESTINATION ZELDAN. BEGINNING JUMP.>>"

There came a crackle of thunder, then a flash as bright as the sun, before the stars stretched themselves around the Mad Ranger like a tunnel. The ship blasted away at speeds faster than light, leaving behind the shiny blue jewel that was Koalea far behind it.

---

KAI'TSU'SHAEL
The Ecumenopolis | Core Worlds
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The reports had snuck up on Kai, and soon, they came in with such volume they seemed as if they would stack to his office ceiling. They all seemed to say the same thing: Emperor Hadrian IV was on his deathbed, his influence was waning, and the Orc situation was spiraling out of control. Thus, Kai had many things to think about as he mulled about in his office.

What would it mean for him and his research? Less funding? More focus on high-tech, ultraviolent projects? What would the ensuing chaos mean for the state of the galaxy as a whole? He kept pondering a multitude of possibilities for a moment... before it hit him.

All those months of uncertainty and inaction and planning were now behind him for one reason: less restriction. The Emperor's waning influence did not just extend to his possessions, court, and nobles; it extended to the Empire as a whole. With less restrictions, things were much easier for Kai. Less stress, more time, more room to think.

He waited patiently as the lift that led to his office continued shooting him upwards, where he watched the planet-sized city slowly shrink in the background. His reflection met him in the window, reflected off the dark and light-lit cityscape as he stared off. The blue Is'in's stare was confident, his posture rigid, and his mind constantly churning... and thinking. He still had a plethora of years ahead of him in terms of Is'in lifespans, and he wanted to make the most of what he had while he still could. Age wasn't an issue here, as experience mattered most, and that was his main means of asserting his seniority over the others.

His arrival was ironic, too. Few Is'in had ever managed or even dreamed of achieving a position like Kai's, as the Director of the Special Projects Detachment. Decades of education in a plethora of fields had culminated to this day... and now, here he was, figuring out the plan of action now instead of someone else. He was in charge.

Today's news was bog standard, sans for an oddity at the end. A coalition of five different Orc warchiefs had made a devastating advance into the Outer Rim, the greens-skinned barbarians practically destroying the planet of Zeldan in their blind and hungry search for riches. As Kai's elevator reached his office floor, he balled his feathery first, thinking about how they could've possibly prevented such a devastating attack... and if their weapons had performed up to standards at all.

They would have their time to shine soon, though. For now, they needed to wait, and continue testing their machinations. They would have the chance to enact revenge against the Orcs that had ravaged the Outer Rim soon enough. As the doors sheathed open to his personal laboratory and office space, Kai stepped out, making his way to his workstation to schedule a meeting with his Shadow Cabal—under guise, of course. He was better off staying away from prying eyes anyways.

The lift doors shut behind him, and he began walking. The day had just begun, and Kai had some work to do.

[Observation Post 13]

NATHAN MAIMON
"Chinook" Research Settlement, Planet Delta-V | Outer Rim | Part 1
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Signs that a planet is plummeting into chaos:

> Planet-scale distress signal. ✔️
> Orkish war-cry "WAAAAAAAAGH!" heard from orbit. ✔️
> 3 hours ago, someone on comms said the baron got "eaten by barbarians". ✔️
> Now all you hear is static from the official Delta-V comm-relay channel. ✔️

Up in space, spectators can see a green sheen enveloping Delta-V's atmosphere. Lighting dances in between patches of fog.

While the technicians are performing a last-minute safety inspection, Nathan decides to give an inspiring speech to his extremely nervous crew. "Ahem." He begins. "There's something valuable that I want from Delta-V. Now, some of you may disagree with me on drop-podding into the middle of an active warzone against the vanguard of green skins." Nathan slowly looked around the shuttle, at sweaty mercenaries strapped inside metallic pods. "Well, you'll have to take it up with the captain. Oh wait, that's me!"

"All systems green!" Cried an engineer. Underneath the pods, blast doors slowly open like missile silos. "And if anyone defects," Nathan paused, a dim red emanating inside his eye socket. "They will die."

"No sh*t." A marine squeaked. Luckily, Nathan was too distracted to notice.

Somewhere, a bright speck flared up on the surface of Delta-V, briefly parting the cloud layers away from the center of the explosion.

"Oh poop! Sargeant, was that a nuke that just went off?"

"Uh, I think so captain."

"We aren't heading over there are we?"

"Captain, I'm afraid that is the only opening we have at the moment." An operator looked up from their terminal. "Our radar can't penetrate the psionic fog generated by the green skins. Either we launch now, or risk scrambling the destination of the pods."

"Eh, what could possibly go wrong." Nathan nods. There was silence. "Begin operation Goblin-Smash!"

"INITIALIZING LAUNCH SEQUENCE..."
"LANDFALL IN 3..."
"2..."
"1..."

Thwonk Thwonk Thwonk Thwonk Thwonk Thwonk Thwonk Thwonk Thwonk Thwonk Thwonk Thwonk

From the bay of the cruiser, several pods shoot out in a revolving pattern, descending onto the planet like falling stars.

[Sao Nova Europa]

File sent by the Council of Grandmasters of the Order of the Thousand Suns:

ENCRYPTION: HIGH

RECIPIENT: Sister Euna Ingrid Tanamara
URGENCY: High

INFORMATION:
A month ago, we've received a report from a mining facility called Xe'esh on the Sidendonia II Asteroid Belt in the Outer Rim indicating that there was a disciple of the heretic Order of the Night hiding in the midst of the miners. The report stated that a miner had witnessed a hooded man animate the corpse of a miner recently killed in a mining incident. Upon seeing this abnormal activity, the miner reported it to the local security chief who in turn passed it on to us.

A week ago, Brother Xander Calder was sent to the mining facility to investigate the allegations. Brother Xander is a competent sorcerer who aided in the past the Imperial Guards in ground battles against barbarian raiders. Upon arriving on the facility, he found it abandoned. He could find no one there: not even corpses. Five hours after his arrival, communication ceased and since then we've not heard from him.

Your mission is to arrive to Xe'esh, find out what happened to the miners and Brother Xander, and discover if it is the work of a dark sorcerer. If a dark sorcerer is indeed behind this strange occurrence, you are ordered to eliminate them.

[Observation Post 13]

NATHAN MAIMON
"Chinook" Research Settlement, Planet Delta-V | Outer Rim | Part 2
__________________________________

Initially, the drop pods barrel towards Delta-V through the emptiness of space at tremendous speeds, allowing gravity to pull the pressurized capsules into a lower orbit. As they breached through the thermosphere, rain began lashing against the pressure pane of the pods.

pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter

An invisible plasma field protects Nathan and his marines as they cut through the air and rain at several times the speed of sound. With nothing better to do, Nathan contemplated about his life. You see, Delta-V was a beautiful planet with a rich history and a diverse ecosystem teeming with life. Technically, it still is, if you can ignore multiple columns of incandescent debris rising up somewhere over the horizon, forming large mushroom caps in the sky.

*sound of Nathan barfing out his lunch* (The vomit would float upward)

...

__________________________________

...

Several hundred meters away.

A field of golden wheat sways gently with the wind and rain. Genetically modified, the stem of Delta-V wheat grows up to 2 meters in height. Orks and goblins dart across the fields here and there, harvesting the wheat and bundling them up.

An ork grunt wiped the sweat off of his forehead, noticing the ground beneath his feet darken. Confused, he poked his head above the crop layer. And saw 6 glowing end ports staring down at his forehead like the muzzle of a gun.

"يا القرف!"

He is then vaporized by the thrusters that fired off in order to slow and stabilize the drop pods. Sporadic gunfire grows increasingly desperate as more and more pods sink into the ranks of disorganized orks, turning anything within 10 meters of the landing zone into a field of ash and smoke.

thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump

The last retaliation attempt by the orks died out when two beams of laser sliced clean through a large swath of wheat stem, a surface-to-air-missile launch platform, and a crew of 5 barbarians behind it. As the upper torso of the orks slides off from their pelvis, Nathan thought that he'd also make a good farmer. The marines who've survived regrouped and fanned out in a semi-circle around Nathan, crouch-kneeling behind the crops, faces covered with camouflage oil making it impossible to tell their skin color. Clad in adaptive combat armor and armed with military-grade weaponry, their lips move up and down, silently mouthing out words to each other, reporting their status.

"Sargent, give me a sitrep." Nathan wiped the vomit from his hair with his left palm.

"Current headcount: 37 BARB. Lost 4 MARFOR. Enemy CECM detected. Attempting to establishing SATCOM, over."

"Yeah, keep doing that." Nathan yawned. "As expected, these savages are no match to superior human tactics..."

[Observation Post 13]

NATHAN MAIMON
"Chinook" Research Settlement, Planet Delta-V | Outer Rim | Part 3
__________________________________

After finally putting out the fires and camouing the pods, a few marines has created a makeshift table out of hay bales. Various comms and equipment are spread out on the mound. Nathan is currently sitting with a small circle of officers discussing their next steps, tacitly ignoring the encroaching gunfire and screams.

"...so you are telling me not only we're black on water and rations, but we're also gonna have to WALK in this poopy weather towards our target since we didn't drop any transport with us?" Nathan pinched his nose while sighing melodramatically. "Which idiot approved this mission?"

An uncomfortable pause. "You did, captain."

"...Fair enough." Nathan squints his eyes. "Anyways Sargent, I just thought of a funny joke. *clears throat*

What does an ork say when he's feeling embarrassed?

You've put me in a very **ork**ward situation.

ehehehahaHAHAHA..."

__________________________________

"-This is spotter charlie to HQ, we've got possible holo contact north-west bound, 5-klicks-" A marine's voice comes through comms. "Seems like VTOL's... 2 of them, heading towards us!" (Vertical take-off and landing aircraft. Combining the functionality of a helicopter with an integrated pair of tilting turbofan engines. Usually considered to be a "low" tech general-purpose attack helicopter.)

The officers immediately scatter into the wheat field like bugs. From the relative safety of the undergrowth(next to the severed upper body of a dead ork), Nathan peeked through powered binoculars and saw: two black dots emerging from the pale horizon, like a pair of flies, steadily approaching his position.

"ALL UNITS TO SKIRMISHING POSITIONS! PREPARE FOR DIRECT ENGAGEMENT!" Nathan barked on comms.

"Captain, those seem to be militant birds, should we establish contac-"

"NOOOOOO! WE MUST TAKE THEM DOWN FOR... TACTICAL REASONS!"

...

"Contact in 5 mikes..."
"Holos equipped with 2 side-mounted M134 7.62 caliber Gatling guns..."
"Enemy unaware of our presence..."
"Take cover behind the pods!"

Nathan closed his eyes, trying to stop himself from trembling. M134, nicknamed "Devil's Breath", is a minigun capable of firing 6000 rounds per minute. Its continued usage well into the 3001 AU is a testament to its immense firepower and speed. (exposition) Less-equipped mercenary squads would sometimes abandon their mission entirely upon hearing that such a weapon is in the opposition's possession. And now, Nathan and his squad are going to face off against 4 of them suspended mid-air, with only wheat as cover. That is, if the VTOL happens to be a non-rocket variant. And then, the thought dawned on Nathan.

He's got heat-vision.

...

It's still raining.

Each second is counted in bated breath. Voices on comms dwindle as the distance in between the marines and the choppers shorten until all that's left are whispered orders from officers. Beads of sweat dripped down Nathan's neck and splatter against the wet soil, concaving into a little puddle. As the captain, he can see marines dotted across different spots on the topographic map display(looking through combat HUD), each preparing to launch a successive ambush. Luckily, the choppers are flying close to the ground, making their jobs easier.

Each squad has been assigned a target. Some will aim for the gunner, while others at the main rotor mast. "A synchronized, precise strike is key." Says Nathan. It's risky letting the choppers come so close, but lasers are only effective if they hit their target.

chop chop chop chop Chop Chop Chop Chop CHOP CHOP CHOP CHOP

The sound of motor and spinning blade encroaches the ears of every marine huddled in the wheat field. And as Nathan lines up his shot, he sincerely hopes that the thermal sensing systems do not catch on to his haphazard scheme.

[Thai Sweet Billy]

MIATA CLANCY
Enroute to Lornerand, Destination: Zeldan | Outer Rim
__________________________________

Their flotilla slithered through space at faster-than-light speeds, yet Miata felt as if they needed more time than what they were allotted in order to maneuver her forces well enough. She sat in an impromptu combat information center behind the Mad Ranger's bridge, observing a gridded digital map of their quadrant of the galaxy fly by as they moved.

Hastor entered the room soon after, spotting Miata looking at the map. He tilted his head. "Nervous? It's just orcs."

"No, not nervous." She shook her head. "It's just..." she then paused, trying to find her words. "There are a lot of things goin' on right now, in the galaxy. The emperor is dyin', and his influence is waning. I fear we may not have enough momentum to keep up with things, y'know?"

Hastor placed his hands into his pockets. The elf moved over to Miata's flank, observing the icon indicating their ship fly past countless uninhabited and habitable systems alike, precisely blasting across the route they had plotted.

"We'll catch up." He reassured her with a nod. "If you think otherwise, think again. Anyways, Ramu and I wanted to discuss our plan."

"You think it won't work?" She tilted her head, placing a hand on her hips as she turned to Hastor. "What makes you think that?"

"Wasn't implying that," the dreadlocked elf shook his head. "I think concentrating all our forces on one ship is too inefficient, wastes too much and risks too much. Instead..."

He traced his hand along the CRT screen, towards another quadrant of Zeldan's system. "We occupy this asteroid belt here, establish ourselves in defilade in the rocks. That way, we can observe the enemy if they pass by without being seen or being fired upon. The orcs will have to at least get near the belt in order to leave system, and when they do.."

"We strike them." Miata nodded. "Good adjustment. Let's send half the flotilla to monitor the other end of the belt, with those instructions. We'll take the other half and monitor the end we enter on."

"Of course."

As Hastor left, the small frigate's intercom chirped, and Gung's voice bellowed through the ship. "<<ALERT: COMING UP ON ZELDAN NOW. EXITING FTL IN FIVE SECONDS.>>"

Miata quickly made her way back to the bridge as the rest of her crew took their respective stations. As they gradually slowed down, the long-range space scanner displayed the image of a planet surrounded by an asteroid belt and veritable field of debris. As the protective shutters over the frontal viewport raised, they saw Zeldan appear in the backdrop of a nearby nebula... along with the graveyard of hundreds of ships, both orcish and belonging to Duke Valerianus's fleet.

"Well, shit." Arwin muttered, leaning against his chair. "If that's what we're going up against, we might need bigger guns."

"Lock it up." Miata ordered, pointing towards something slithering away from the planet, through the clutter of ship debris in high orbit of Zeldan. "Gung, take us to the asteroids, put the long range scanner on whatever that is moving away from the planet."

With an "<<AYE AYE.>>", Gung took flight controls, the metallic humming of their engines slowly coming back to their ears as they abruptly lurched forwards and began moving. The rest of the flotilla took a tight arrowhead formation behind the Mad Ranger before splitting off into various positions inside the belt, then cutting off their engines to avoid detection. Gung mirrored this, and their ship entered the belt and cut off its lights and engines, becoming one with the cloud of asteroids it had nestled itself into.

Their sophisticated long-range scanners quickly identified what was moving past the ship graveyard. "Orc blockade runner. Frigate tonnage, high cargo capacity. It's alone."

"And it's heading for us," Miata concluded. "Give it a second, then jam their communications, then we'll move in."

The waiting game had begun, and Miata's heart thumped in her chest as the orc treasure ship approached, bristling with as much bounty as it had weapons. In an even fight, they most definitely would've had a challenge on their hands, but with the rest of the flotilla, the odds were stacked much more favorably for them...