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A rock out of place (Varathron, First Contact/maintenance)

A staging-point for declarations of war and other major diplomatic events. [In character]
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Fenvaria Republic
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Founded: Aug 18, 2018
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

A rock out of place (Varathron, First Contact/maintenance)

Postby Fenvaria Republic » Sat Sep 19, 2020 3:13 pm

FRN Diligence
Serenity class modular support ship, colony configuration
Destination: Gholgoth; Varathron


At the far edge of the system, there was a small swirling bubble, then a flash of light and then a hole as two ships appeared out of FTL. Lighting crackled from the hole and across the hull of the ships before then disappearing as the hyperdrive hole closed and the drives aboard the ship cooled, dumping their built up heat into the vacuum of space. Colonel Arvo Toivanen stood on the well lit and busy bridge of the lead Serenity class modular support ship, one of two in the system, and watched as their targeted planet got closer and closer. He, like all of the officers of High Command and the Planetary Colonization Authority, had heard rumors of Varathron from several sources. Most of these sources had been backed up by the Aumanii, which was puzzling and odd. “Why would the Aumanii back up these rumors?” pondered the colonel, placing his paw to his chin and started to rub it while he continued this thought. “They have something to gain....I just. What is it?”

Just then one of the officers turned around and looked towards the captain of the vessel. “Sir, FTL drive has been disengaged and we are safely out of the FTL slip. We have started venting our built heat.”

“Excellent.” reported the captain with a nod as he looked towards the colonel. The captain was a middle aged fenvarian, with tall pointed ears and a remarkably fox-like tail, and baby blue eyes. Orange and grey fur covered his body alongside the black fur of his forearms and shins. Both of the officers were wearing white dress uniforms, but each of them had different epaulettes, the captain had blue for the navy, and the colonel had red for the army. “Seems everything went according to plan, Colonel now we just need to get to the planet.”

The colonel then snapped out of his thoughts and looked towards the captain. “Yes...” he replied as he couldn't help but think about why they were sent here. “So far everything has gone to plan. What do we know about the planet?”

The captain looked puzzled and then brought up the notes that the Aumanii had sent them about the planet and its inhabitants. “Seems like there are a large number of humans on the planet, technology seems to be all over the place but somewhat similar to ours just with a lack of FTL travel. As well as basic descriptions about nations on the planet, as well as a number of nations to look out for. Most of them being some of the ‘power pushers’ in the Gholgoth region of the planet.”

“Mm, I see. Anything else?”

“Other than that, it seems to be a ‘super earth’ classification by human suggestions.”

“Mm, I see....very well.” the colonel then nodded and pulled up the location that they were going to be landing, it was on the southern tip of the northwestern continent in the region known as Varathron. From the looks of it, the place seemed to be semi-perfect for their colonization plans; a large number of fjords, mountainous locations and it seemed to be rather chill as well. But there were portions of the zone that were classified as semi-tropical, habitable but rather uncomfortable for the fenvarians. As for mineral scans, that was up in the air since they couldn't get a good scan at what was in the area. But whatever was there would be used to help get the colony up and running for further development.

The colonization procedure for Varathron would also be different then most other fenvarian settlements, rather the civilians would be brought down with the military forces in order to help quickly set up the colony. Also, the Republic can not afford to lose the civilian labor force or the civilian complement as it would put a major hole in the construction efforts of the colony as well as hamper colony growth. Plus they were far from home, so any sort of civilian force would have to travel for some time before getting here to help set up the colony, thus wasting more time. So it was safer to just bring down the colonists and have them work with the military to set up the colony.

“Time until we reach the planet?” asked the colonel as he looked to the captain.

“About four days, hopefully by then we would have the cover of a storm or something to mask our approach or landing.”

“Mm” mused the colonel as he looked at the screen “I hope we do have a cover of a storm, I don't feel like fighting off several different nations with just one army formation.” the colonel then frowned and turned around to head to the elevator at the other side of the bridge. As he walked towards the elevator he found himself wondering about this planet more. For example, what sort of fauna and flora was there on this planet? Was there other intelligent species on this super earth? Also, were there any nations that would be friendly towards them? Granted the last question could be answered with the list the aumanii had sent them, but alas that list could also have some miss information as it was from the Aumanii perspective. Plus they couldn't always rely on intelligence reports gathered by their allies, sometimes the best intelligence is when you send your own group to get that intelligence.

Boarding the elevator he turned around and pressed the button to one of the staging areas, with a hiss the doors closed and the elevator started to go down. He would spend some time on the elevator and continued to think to himself about the planet and other nations, occasionally the thought about food or something that was totally out of left field. About halfway through his trip, he patted one of his pockets and felt a cigar pack, he pulled out the back and pulled one out. Putting away the pack he then pulled out a lighter and quickly lit the cigar, then started to indulge in his smoking habit. After a few puffs the elevator finally hit the designated floor and the doors opened up, revealing a semi busy staging area as people moved around. Loaders carried around boxes of supplies; while deck crew were busy carrying out regular maintenance of vehicles, assisting the loaders, checking inventory, and so on.

Carefully, Colonel Toivanen bobbed and weaved his way from one side of the semi busy staging area to the other, dodging the cargo haulers. The staging area was unusually busy as they were nearing their target area, so it was time to get stuff out of storage and moving. The first wave of colonists had to be pulled out of cyrosleep so they could begin to familiarize themselves with their equipment and jobs. It would be a long task but the first wave colonists were split into two groups, the first one usually surveyors, construction members, architects, and soldiers. Who would set up the basic road infrastructure of the colony, sites for future buildings, and finally set up basic fortifications for the colony. The second part of the first wave would be farmers, further construction personnel, miners, and others, they would be responsible for the building the buildings of the colony. However, they also would be responsible for the building the basic power plant, basic refineries, basic housing, farms, and so on. Often, these two groups would work at the same time, for example the first group would plan the main roads and major intersections then from there houses and other buildings would spring up with secondary roads popping up alongside fortifications.

After the first wave of colonists would come the more specialized personnel like clerks, upper management, colonial politicians, and so on. Who will provide the governmental stability and some normaliness to the colony. The Colonel sighed as he reached the far end of the bay and saw a group of troopers standing at attention, their grey armor standing a bit out from their green coats and forest camo fatigues. Most of the troopers appeared to be fenvarian, anthro canine or they appeared to be evandari, anthro feline. However, there were some that appeared to be human with canine or cat ears, which poked out from under their patrol caps. One of the officers addressing the troopers turned around and saw the colonel approaching, quickly the fenavrian hybrid saluted him.

“Colonel, it is good to see you.” started the hybrid in a smooth voice, she then lowered her arm when the colonel saluted back. “My troopers are ready to drop with the first wave”

Colonel Toivanen looked over at the troopers and at their patches which read ‘Sky jumpers’ ‘229th Regiment, 1st Battalion, C company’ a unit that favored rapid descents often right onto locations. They often used scout sized drop pods or their own gunships to get to the battlefield, in short these soldiers are air assault/paratrooper types. “So it seems, you guys can't wait for the rust of a drop can you?”

The female hybrid nodded and laughed “No, sir we can not. It is in our blood and training, they do not call us the ‘Sky jumpers’ for nothing, hahaha”

He nodded “So, since you guys are going in first, mind going over your drop plan with me?”

“Certainly, sir” the female nodded and then pulled out a holographic projector of the area that would serve as the fen colony. “Our unit will go ahead of the colony ships in our drop ships and our landing ships to clear out any possible hostile forces at the LZ. Once we touch down we will move out and start clearing the area as much as we can before the heavy armor arrives. Once the heavy rolls in, we then will push further in and further clear out the area. Once the area has been fully cleared out, our colony ship will land.”

“Good, our colony ship will land on the mouth of this bay while the second colony ship will land on the furthest point of this peninsula, protecting the entrance to the bay. From our scans this area is slightly cooler than the rest of the rest of the zone, pretty much what we are used to, but don't get lazy. The other colony ship will be pulling something similar to your plan as well.”

“Gotcha”

Landing Zone Alpha, Ft. New Festung
4 days later



Against the grey sky a large piece of machinery slowly headed towards the continent of Varathron making sure to stay a bit high to avoid as much detection as possible. It appeared to slowly burst through the cloud layer, like a spectre cutting through the smoke. The massive ship then gently glided down to a massive landing zone that had been set up the day before by advanced elements who now watched as the colony ship headed towards them. As the ship made way to the landing zone, it slowed down and massive slabs of metal started to protrude out of the bottom of the ship. It wasn't long before the ship then touched down with a mighty thud, throwing up dirt and dust everywhere. It even began ripping some trees out of the ground and flinging them off to the side, while others had just been knocked over from the engines and the crushing weight of the ship before finally coming to rest. The advance elements of the colonization looked up as parts of the ship started to hiss then, a massive ramp dropped then followed by several large hydraulic platforms lowering down to the ground. On the platforms there were dozens of vehicles, many of them being various calibers, most of them however were military vehicles. Once the hydraulic lifts hit the ground the armored vehicles rumbled off followed by their infantry escorts as they pushed forward into the forests around them clearing more land for the colony. This first wave of troopers and armor would establish the perimeter of the colony by digging basic trench lines for infantry and tanks, as well as firing ports for the artillery pieces.

One of the military vehicles, a light recon vehicle diverted from the armored column and headed towards the pathfinder dropship, slowly bumping along the rough ground before coming to a stop near the pathfinders. Out of the vehicle stepped the colonel who was flanked by two troopers in full combat gear, as the colonel approached he noticed that the pathfinders were stilling around by a campfire enjoying a bit of rest. He smelled the faint stench of some spice cigars, a popular type of cigar that was common in the Republic. Personally not his favorite but would smoke them on occasion when he was in a mood for them or was at special occasions. Finally reaching the pathfinders, the colonel nodded at them and spoke “So, what did you find?”

“Well, this area has a few very tall hills surrounding us, however, 1km away from our landing site is a huge hill that would be perfect for setting up the fort or some sort of artillery station to cover this entire valley.”

“How is the soil up there? Would it be able to hold our later fortifications?”

“Very much likely, it might not look like it but under the soil of that hill there is a solid rock layer, more than perfect for anchoring our fortifications and proving cover against artillery shells if we dig deep enough.”

“Soil fertility and mining?”

“Quite good for our landing zone, I am guessing this area used to be underwater at one point or has some flooding issues. We couldn't really get a good read on it, but play our cards right we could have some very fertile soil. As for mining, again we couldn't get a good read, but I suspect there is a good amount of iron and other basic resources here. Nothing overly advanced, but it should help us get on our feet.”

“Good, well it is a start....” replied the colonel as he looked around “I want your team ready in the next twelve hours, your next assignment is to push further into the area and see what else you can dig up. I want to know if we have a neighbor or anything, do not engage unless you have been engaged. I really do not feel like dealing with a major diplomatic event.”

“Yes sir” replied the lead pathfinder with a nod, then without another word the colonel turned around and headed back to his light recon vehicle, quickly climbing aboard and soon the vehicle darted off heading back to the colony ship. As for the pathfinders, they went back to relaxing and smoking their cigars as they sat near the campfire, enjoying their relaxation for the time being. Hopefully this world did not throw them into hell in a handbasket.
Last edited by Fenvaria Republic on Fri Apr 09, 2021 12:11 pm, edited 3 times in total.
IC Name: Thalduhm Republic
Read my factbooks!! I do not use NS Stats

Tech: FT, 2370s (dieselpunk theme)

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The Caleshan Valkyrie
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Founded: Oct 07, 2004
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby The Caleshan Valkyrie » Sat Sep 19, 2020 10:33 pm

Corchat's eyes fixed on the ceiling as he exhaled, pushing the weights up to their maximum extent. After a second's pause, he slowly returned the barbell to his chest. The room was dim, lit only by the muted colors of the display on the ceiling, and the air was set to a temperature just barely below the point where his breath fogged with every exhalation. The screen displayed a newscaster woman from one of the static tribes as she went through the morning news.

"Three men and two women were summarily defenestrated yesterday for instigating a riot that left two dead and fourteen wounded. Violence continues to mount as tribal transfers pour into the coastal cities to join the Vanaheim colonization effort. The shipyards have experienced difficulties in maintaining order while attempting to keep up with the surge in demand for transports to the newly proclaimed territory. Cala Granses Wavecrasher has issued a statement requesting that prospective colonial transfers remain in their current holdings until their slot comes up, and discussions on whether to close access to the cities are gaining traction."


"Idiots," Corchat said, as he pushed the barbell back up.

"Cala Corchat Night Wolf, also released a statement saying that colonial transfers into the newly claimed Vestheim territories have many openings and that any transfers with experience in reconnaissance will receive preferential treatment through the process. Applications towards that colonization effort have been sluggish, but have started to show signs of acceleration."

"Why the fuck are we having such a problem getting people here?" Corchat asked, as he pushed the barbells up again. "They're all in a fired-up rush to the goddamn coast, all hooting over the hills with swords raised high."

"Viking, Cala." Kenzhen, Corchat's Keeper of Itineraries replied while keeping his attention on the barbell in efforts to prevent it from falling to the side.

"What?"

"They want to go viking. They think you can't go viking without boats."

Corchat's growl as he brought the barbells back to his chest was more pronounced. "I reiterate my assessment. They're idiots."

"I do not dispute this, sir. Many of our citizens have been chomping at the bit for new opportunities for some time, but there's a certain attraction to the idea of viking and the need for boats is a misconception, but a very popular one."

The two men continued in silence while the Newscaster finished her report:
"Cala Vermuth Iron Tiger, whose tribe has been assisting the Wavecrashers in keeping order while spearheading the Vanaheim colonization effort, officially endorsed Cala Night Wolf's efforts, and has stated that his tribe is willing to assist in transportation of any who wish to take the Ranger tribe's offer. Cala Vermuth had this to say:"

The screen switches to a scene with the Iron Tiger Cala, standing in what looks like a mobile construction unit. "YOU DON'T NEED BOATS TO VIKE! Seven curses to the wind, get out of our hair! We've got land coming out the ears in the west and people keep crowding for the coast! There's no pillage. There's no plunder. We're colonizing, both of us! We're heading out to build new homes and new businesses, THAT'S viking, too! I'm sure the Stone Wolves would appreciate your presence as well, there's gotta be a demand for fuel depots out there."


Kenzhen's eyebrows raised. "How nice of him to mention our associated tribe. The Stone Wolves DO need people to build power plants in the new territories."

"Nice of him in general," Corchat replied with another press. "I think Vermuth is gonna make some transfers less than optional. We should get word to the transfer centers to expect a surge. We're probably going to get the rowdy shits... and they're liable to be angry. We need to prepare."

Kenzhen put a finger to his ear. "Mark comment as direct order and execute."

Corchat's hearing was good enough to hear the faint "Cala commands!" from the earbud. He placed the barbell back on the rack and sat up while wiping his sweating chest with a towel.

"So what's on the docket for today?"

Kenzhen handed him a bottle and a protein bar. "Breakfast, then the scouts want you to plan an excursion into the southern reaches."

"UGH!" Corchat stood up with a sigh. "I was hoping to leave that for last. Fucking mountains."

"They voted a preference to get the unpleasant stuff out of the way."

"Fuck," Corchat shook his head, then headed towards the shower. "I may take about ten minutes longer while I get things in my head sorted. I want a full spread of satellite data of the area waiting for me when I get up to ops. Send in the Direwolves for preliminary scouting."

Kenzhen's finger went to his ear again. "Mark comment as direct order and execute."




Corchat hated mountains. They complicated things. Yes, they often had substantial mineral wealth, and the region beyond was noted to be fertile grassland, but they made it difficult for landcarriers to traverse. For the past week, the mountains of the Southern Reach, a natural extension to the Windshears of the homeland, had haunted the left flank of his view like a specter of aggravation. Satellite views of the region showed seven possible routes for a landcarrier-sized vehicle to pass through, but the Direwolves had already eliminate three of them within the first hour.

These mountains were much more treacherous than those of the homeland, as the region south of them was suspected to be a minor plate colliding with the greater landmass. With the resulting uplift, some of the intervening mountains were more than twice the height of the previous recordholders in Caleshan home territory. These were the REAL Windshear mounts. The Mountain Kings would love the area.

He didn't. All he saw was rocks, cliffs, and risks of avalanche. The prospect of the favor they could gain in releasing the cartographic data to the Mountain Kings was a poor comfort even then.

The Direwolves made it easier. At full release, they could top 175 even on difficult terrain. The problem with THAT was that doing so meant they used up their fuel cells more quickly. It would only be a couple days before they ran low, and he'd have to get rally points and refuels ready for them. Even a robotic army had a stomach to march on.

Corchat stood at the planning table, marking locations for refuels and winging out orders to schedule refueling sorties and air support for the Direwolves. He had already marked several points of interest --expanded upon by the initial Direwolf status reports-- for further human inspection. There was an abnormally high amount of black sand in the westernmost extent of the Windshears, and that meant the Mountain Kings would be VERY interested in a detailed analysis. Gold always caught their eye.

While it was aggravating to deal with mountains, the act of planning sent him into an almost meditative calm. Translating numbers into images and orders into projections had a vaguely artistic feel, and he was good at it. He had a natural skill with reading and visualizing topographical maps, and had cultivated an instinctive understanding of the logistics of exploration even when there wasn't much to explore. He often felt hours time get away from him when he got into planning, and his dietician and keeper of itineraries both knew it was best to just stand back and keep him well stocked on coffee.

A call from elsewhere in ops drew him out of his reverie, and he almost punched a hole in the planning table.

"Cala Night Wolf! Priority message from Cala Starwalker!"

"UGH!" Corchat slapped himself on the forehead in exasperation. "What's that creeper want?"

"Well that's rude," an all-too-familiar voice on the intercom replied. "I'm being nice enough to assist with your exploration and not even asking for favors in return. What did I do to warrant such cruel words?"

"How about hijacking our intercom? I told you not to do that twice now. How many times must I continue to do so?"

"At least once more, Cala Corchat."

"'Creeper' it is then, Cala Victus."

"Fair."

"Is there a reason for your contact, or are you just here to flirt?"

"YES actually there is a reason," Victus' voice replied with a curious swiftness. Had he actually been flirting? "We did another sweep of the southern reaches this morning, and we're sending it down now. There is a thing there that was not there the day before."

"How ominously nonspecific," Corchat said as the planning table updated. His eyes latched onto an area along the southern coast. "The fuck is THAT thing? THOSE things?"

"We do not know. They show no structural similarities to the Reman vessel we acquired, and they're also big bastards, each approximately the same size of one of our launch platforms."

That was about twice the size of Night Wolf Prime.

"We DO know they appear to be setting up temporary shelters and sending out scouting parties, I've marked some concentrations here and here. I've also done a scan through various communications frequencies, and they appear to speak what passes for the common tongue. That is not however the biggest takeaway however..."

"We'd have seen vehicles that size coming well in advance. Why didn't we?"

"Because they did not come from that direction."

Things quieted down in ops all of a sudden.

"You mean... they came from... up?"

"Yes."

"And they just... settled into place?"

"Yes."

"They've got functioning thrusters! DO WANT."

"I expect a favor for THIS one."

"Granted."

"Stop calling me a creeper."

"Youuuuuuuuuuuuuu fucker!" Corchat pointed an accusing finger at the nearest intercom speaker, for lack of a better alternative.

"Pleasure doing business with you! I'll let you know if the situation changes! Cala Starwalker out." Victus' voice sounded positively exultant as he cut contact.

Ops was as silent as a barrow, and Corchat turned to those around him with a newly invigorated determination. "GET YOUR ASSES IN GEAR, YOU DOGS, WE'VE GOT A 'FIRST CONTACT' TO MAKE! Get me the Landjarls, we're redirecting EVERYTHING."




A couple days later, the advance scouts of the Night Wolves broke through the mountains.

Perhaps the first sign for the newcomers that things had changed might have been the appearance of several dozen enormous lupine robots that emerged from the nearby mountains and started to converge on the area upon which the two colony vessels had landed. If any Direwolf were to encounter persons or vehicles, it would immediately stop at a somewhat respectful distance and perk its ears up while sending out an alert signal.

Any radar would also start to light up with multiple incoming aircraft, flying low and in a pattern that would suggest they were overseeing the Direwolves. The vehicles appeared to be some form of VTOL craft, some with four rotors and some with two, all moving at approximately four hundred and thirty miles per hour.
Last edited by The Caleshan Valkyrie on Mon Sep 21, 2020 12:56 pm, edited 3 times in total.
Godulan Puppet #2, RPing as technologically advanced tribal society combined between several groups of ancient arabs and mongols with vikings.

Intro RP: Gravity Ships and Garden Snips (involved tribes: Plainsrider, Hawkeye, Wavecrasher)
Current RP: A Rock Out of Place (involved tribes: Night Wolf, Deep Kraken, Starwalker)

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The State of Burma
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Founded: Sep 19, 2020
Ex-Nation

Postby The State of Burma » Sat Sep 19, 2020 11:33 pm

The State of Burma issues a diplomatic condemnation of the rock that is out of place, and encourages it to move back in place.

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The Caleshan Valkyrie
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Posts: 1033
Founded: Oct 07, 2004
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby The Caleshan Valkyrie » Sun Sep 20, 2020 5:08 pm

The State of Burma wrote:The State of Burma issues a diplomatic condemnation of the rock that is out of place, and encourages it to move back in place.


The Caleshan choose to embrace change, and shall not speak ill of the rock’s efforts to relocate. Let that rock go where it wishes.
Last edited by The Caleshan Valkyrie on Sun Sep 20, 2020 5:08 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Godulan Puppet #2, RPing as technologically advanced tribal society combined between several groups of ancient arabs and mongols with vikings.

Intro RP: Gravity Ships and Garden Snips (involved tribes: Plainsrider, Hawkeye, Wavecrasher)
Current RP: A Rock Out of Place (involved tribes: Night Wolf, Deep Kraken, Starwalker)

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New Gothland
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Founded: Sep 24, 2004
Father Knows Best State

Postby New Gothland » Wed Sep 23, 2020 8:47 am

Varathon G.H.E.L.I. Station, Urshanabi, New Gothland
34 km NW of Urshanabi Dome #1
(39 hours after system transition)


“Well dear listeners, the sun's rising, my cats are yowling, and all across our dear city the morning shifters are rising to the smell of roasting coffee and buzzing alarms, but not you my dears”. The woman's soft, sultry tones drifted lazily out of his vintage cars radio as he cruised absentmindedly up the long coastal road a lit cigarette in his steering hand, a steaming warm brew of his own discarded for now in the center console as sped his way carelessly up the empty dirt path toward the colossal waste of time that was his responsibility this week.

“You my dear moon children have spent your night hard at work, and with me..” her voice takes on a coy and playful tone.

“While your comrades were all asleep, and for that we all do thank them so very much. So before I go I do believe you have earned this parting tune. So until next time dear listeners, this is Mhyranda Moon.”

“Goodnight..”

The crash of a falling synthesized keyboard brought the introduction of a familiar fast paced hit darkwave song that had the perfect energy for many night workers trips home, or in his case, the last leg of his trip up to a giant Intergalactic Pigeon Shit Horn to look over and gather a bunch of useless data and drive it all the way back to the main Department building downtown for ‘filing’. Luckily it was a task that was passed and handed around the office on rotation so he typically only got stuck with it once in a blue moon, sort of like jury duty; but just like jury duty when he did boy did he do everything possible to get out of it.

It's not that the trip itself was dangerous, UD # 1 was far from the more militarized and historically bumpy eastern border, and on the whole the colony is the most recent and sustained focus of development among the Extra-Regional holdings of the Gothic State. It was for many of these reasons he chose to take the job offer and move his family here; that and the chance to see real sunlight again. Yet now, as the first few rays began to shoot across the horizon and kiss the surface waters of the still and quiet bay, all he could think of was the task ahead of him; the task ahead of him, and that thing.

He reached up with his empty hand to straighten his dark blue tie, glancing into his rearview mirror to make sure he looked ok. His tie matched his suit, that was good, matching colors were important. They also happened to match the slight glowing bluish hue to his grey eyes, which couldn’t hurt. He had luckily remembered to shave this morning as he had no clue he was going to be conned into doing this before he showed up. Last time he had done this he also had shaved, this greatly increased his odds of not getting locked outside for 4 hours. Then there was his hair. A dignified salt and pepper look which complimented his now tropically tanned skin. It more or less looked the same way as before, though he was quite a few years younger then so probably a bit less thin and a little less grey.

“It’ll have to do.” He mumbled to himself, returning his freehand to the wheel and his eyes to the road while taking a drag on his cig.

“Goood Mor”-

-click-

The radio DJ’s voice cut off mid speech replaced by the gentle roar of the car's engine. Even in his half aware day-dreaming state that voice was still far too obnoxiously energetic this early in the morning for any rational human being. Then the obvious struck him like a silver bullet through the center of the forehead, and for the moment he was suddenly more glad than ever he had turned his radio off for the moment.

The sun was well above the horizon line by the time he made it to the secluded, cliff-side, coastal facility nestled atop a lone peninsular outcrop on the far end of the bay. Despite the thick surrounding jungle growth and high canopies around him he could still see the high rising arches of the nearby Dome City that was his home. The massive structure rising like a series of man-made pustules out of the otherwise mostly undisturbed landscape. The bay meanwhile was just starting to come to life, the first wave of early morning fishing ships departing the nearby marinas to slink off to their various ‘secret spots’ and newly carved out trawling and whaling grounds.

The station itself meanwhile stood in stark contrast to the tranquil scenes around it. Unlike the smooth glistening surfaces of the nearby Dome City, its stark, hard, and machicolated Gothic Brutalist appearance gave the impression the structure was some repurposed military facility rather than a research outpost. Granted the giant vine choked dish arrays did nothing to dissuade that former conclusion, Nor did the tall and electrified barbed wire fence.

“Don't know who they are trying to keep out of here..” He mumbled in an irritated tone to himself, while pulling to a stop at a lopsided angle in a bare earthen parking lot; his tires audibly crunching upon the loose stones and gravel as he rolled to an idling halt.

“Who in their right mind would try and steal from this place”.

He gave the station a foreboding look while shutting down his car, the sudden silence pressing in on him like a blanket and making his mounting anxiety only the more palpable. He couldn’t sit out here forever. Chances are it was already watching him at this very moment through one of the external cameras. The thought sent a shiver through him, he grabbed his cooling coffee and swallowed hard taking the last few minutes of peace to adjust his nametag and Department ID fixed to his left breast.

With any luck my Sons. He prayed. He will be lucid.

Taking a deep breath he stepped out into the morning air, sheltering his eyes in the crook of his arm against the fresh glaring light of the sun. As much as he appreciated its newly found presence in his life, being a Rhodinian Dome born meant his eyes were still not as enthusiastic about the arrangement as he was. And he often forgot his car came with tinted windows. A few moments of cussing, stumbling, and eye rubbing later and he was in front of the security gate. The sinister hum of barbed electrified wire occasionally cracking and snapping over his head. Quietly he washed his cigarette on the ground, casually snapping his ID off his lapel and pressing it against a suddenly revealed reading device. There was a pause, a long pause, he held his breath.

“Access Granted” He sighed audibly as the sterile and feminine robotic voice met his ears.

So far so good.. He hoped.

Closing the door behind him he began the final approach, it truly hadn’t changed much since the last time he was here. Though he wasn't sure if the fences were electrified before or not; that might be new. Though he couldn’t imagine why, there were no reports of any break in attempts at this place that he knew of logged back at the Celestial Manifestation offices, and to date with all the supposed claims of activity and extra-terran archaeological evidence this giant cement ear trumpet of a ‘listening outpost’ has yet to register a single peep from the final frontier.

G.H.E.L.I. Better known as the Gothic Hunt for Extraterrestrial Living Intelligence, was the 7.2 million labor credit project set aside in the new colony under the direct and specific orders of Gorca Pache himself to monitor space for signals and signs of extraterrestrial life as well as to map, catalogue, and if possible differentiate between the signals of various extraterrestrial powers operating nearby. An ambitious project and one meant to bear many fruits for not just the Gothic State but the Brotherhood as a whole. That was nearly a decade ago. Now the structure sits mostly alone and mostly abandoned, serviced, maintained, and seen too purely out of what he assumed was a combination of fear, respect, tradition, and dedication to a superior cause. The four pillars of Gothic bureaucracy.

He approached the steel external door, the same scanner sliding open to reveal itself as the security camera over the door repositioned on his face. He took another hard swallow of his coffee and looked away pressing his ID forward. Before it even made contact with the reader a series of events all took place nearly instantaneously. Just like before the light switched quickly blue followed by a loud mechanical clunk, then as if of its own accord the door flew and slammed inward against the wall with a loud, crashing, and echoing clang; vibrating like a massive tuning fork in its oxidizing frame. There was no voice.

He wanted to yell in surprise but he found his voice was seemingly trapped along with what felt like the contents of his entire torso within his throat. Instead he simply stood silent, his cybernetic heart following the signals of his cyberbrain to begin artificially racing in his chest to simulate the effects of fear and adrenaline. For a second he wondered if he could just leave, say that he couldn't get to the files. That today was the day. No. They would send inspectors to check on it. If it was fine he would be sent back to Rhodinia.

Not risking another sip of coffee at the moment he stepped across the threshold tentatively. The station seemed eerily silent, the records and recovery rooms were farther down the hall, but there was something truly foreboding about this place that he had only felt before in his old work station in rural Coraxia. It was familiar, but not in a good way. Quite a few people never made it home from that posting. Between the chill, the dead, and the trolls they were lucky if they ever got to go outside.

-clunk!-

He jumped, dropping his coffee onto the floor and spinning around to face the sound. The heavy metal door had swung back into place slowly behind his back at a creeping pace, the mechanical lock engaging with a loud and audible clunk. There was the sound of a distorted staticy voice over the intercom, but he was too distracted at the moment with the coffee splashing up his legs and running across the floor.

“Son of a bitch!” He yelled, his voice finally returned to him. “Just one more fucking thing I dont want to do today!”

ARR-ARR-ARR-INTRUDER ALERT-INTRUDER ALERT-ARR-ARR-ARR

The security alarm began shrieking its warning throughout the facility, the fluorescent overhead lighting immediately being replaced by a series of flashing and pulsing orange emergency lights. He looked up to the nearest security camera, its glowing red eye was fixed on him like a cat watching a scurrying rodent. It was NOT lucid.

A string of curses began to flow from his mouth. Thank the Sons his mother wasn’t here to hear him. Frantically he began jumping up and down in front of the camera , his ID outstretched in front of him for the ‘eye’ to see. He was still pretty nimble for being an early 50 year old Dome born office man and daily smoker.

“It's me!” He began shouting into the air in the direction of the camera. “I've BEEN here before, you know me!”

ARR-ARR-ARR-INTRUDER ALERT-INTRUDER ALERT-ARR-ARR-ARR

“Listen to me Grem, it's me Kovi!” He puffed out his chest and pointed to his nametag. “Come on man I even look the same. Search your memory. I'm there, you’ve seen me! You know me!”

Once again several things happened nearly simultaneously. The alarm cut dead in mid repetition, followed by the sudden immediate return of the stations ‘normal’ fluorescent lighting now set at what could only be described as an oppressive level of brightness. Once again shielding his eyes in the crook of his arm this sudden return of all to familiar light blindness was now accompanied by yet another burst of inaudible static over the stations intercom system. Though this he could hear a voice intermingled with all the mess of feedback and garbage.

“Grem run a self diagnostic on your audio functions. I can't hear you properly”. The man named Kovi growled in an annoyed tone from behind the shelter of his arm. “And turn these damn lights down”.

A loud electronic screech issued from the intercom followed by a sudden click, and dead air. There was no change in the light's brightness level. He stood there waiting, the hum of lights above him at this point droning nearly as loud as the fence was outside. He couldn't see it but he knew the cameras ‘eye’ was on him.

“GiVe NetTing”. The stuttering text-to-speech sounding male voice uttered over the intercom. “WanT NeTting. GiVe.”

This was new. It appeared to be having issues with certain sounds now, that wasn't in the report he read last night. Could it be new? Also what's it saying about netting? Is it having another delusion again? If he could get it to calm down

“Grem I can't see ok?” He spoke in a gentle and even tone. “If you could please turn the lights down we could figure this out, ok?”

He was definitely not trained to negotiate with dementia ridden A.I. He was a damned data analyst. This kinda thing was the work of the Daywatch, not a salaryman. The silence was killing him. it was thinking. Still a negotiator he must be, as the lights began to dim back to more agreeable levels and he slowly unsheltered his eyes once more to look at the A.I. face-to-menacing-red-camera-‘eye’.

“I-was-promised-netting-by-17-previous-visitors-to-this-listening-facility-yet-no-such-requisitioned-material-has-yet-arrived-or-been-installed-I-am-incensed-at-the-appaling-lack-of-proper-security-at-this-establishment-and-unless-my-conditions-are-met-I-will-have-no-other-alternative-than-to-formally-request-my-unit-transfer-Sir!-”

The statement from the A.I. came more as a rapid fire diahrrea word soup then as a coherent declaration. Though enough words were caught of the jumble for Kovis to piece together the general gist of what the thing was ranting about. Enough to realize he had also been essentially baited, locked in, grilled, and interrogated by an A.I. that was officially classified as ‘failing’ and slated for eventual retirement to the ‘civilian sector’.

“But..Why nets? What will you do with it?” He was honestly curious at this point. If it had bothered to mimic actual interrogation techniques on him, and annoy 17 other people, it had to be for something.

“Seagulls. Are. Always. Shitting. On. My. Radar. Dishes.” The A.I.’s voice spoke in clear, careful, and determined fashion, putting a dramatic overemphasis on each and every word as it did.”Therefore-I-Need-A-Camo-Net-To-Hide-Them!-If-I-Cover-The-Station-In-Camo-Netting-The-Seagulls-Wont-See-it-and-wont-shit-on-me!-I-mean-it!””

The last bit came as another deluge of dialogue, but this time he was getting used to the cadence and understood even more of it then before.The strategy itself was more or less sound, even if its logic was flawed. He supposed there wasn’t any harm in actually indulging its request so long as it kept it mostly in check. Suddenly he remembered the electric fence outside and he knew this wasn't the first time this dance had been done.

17 requests my ass. He thought to himself.

“Ok Grem I’ll tell them.” He said in a serious and sober tone, his eyes locked on the camera. “Though give them a little time to get it out here ok? Maybe a week or so? This is still a developing colony. I promise you though I’ll get it done”.

“Heard-it-before!” Came the rapid fire response. Followed soon after by a more judicious. “Be. Sure. You, Do,”

Stepping away from the camera Kovis began to make his way down the hall toward the data recovery room, the red ‘eye’ on his back every step of the way. GREMLIN-0067, the Stations A.I. steward was nearing the end of its State sanctioned service life. Originally assigned to operate a number of guided weapon systems on board one of the nations orbital defense platforms surrounding the Gryla, Grem had developed the bad habit of riding the munitions he guided into targets personally for the thrill of it like an artificial Slim Pickens. Each trip took a little bit more out of his cognitive ability however. His recovery time and responses slowed ever so slightly. He would delay in responding to orders, or not respond at all, occasionally acting independently outside the normal parameters of his ROE. Eventually he was retired to general Recon duty, before being ‘redeployed’ here.

His behaviour was erratic to say the least. The first time he was here he could hear the alarm blaring all the way up the hill. He showed up only to find a Daywatch agent arguing with Grem about ‘incoming hostile Air-Power’ and how they needed to ‘deploy AA on the ridge to support his spotting’. Turns out it was a flock of migratory birds.

Reaching out and taking the handle of the door he pushed his way inside the small and cramped data recovery room. All around him the walls were lined with various measuring devices, recorders, computers, registers, scales, and machines humming, buzzing, and scratching away. A proverbial nerd closet of stuff doing things.

“Ugh, where to start”. He complained out loud, looking at the pile of printed EMR recording data piling up on the floor from the last 2 weeks”.

Reaching over he flicked off the machine and tore off the recording where it had left off, plopping down in a nearby office chair to thumb through the top few pages of the stack. He didn't have any high hopes or expectations, it was almost always just white noise, trash signals, or feedback from some of the existing terran born superpowers big-dicking around the solar system, and this all seemed like more of the same.

“1300 hours -30. Yesterday..” Grem’s text-to-speech voice rang out over the intercom in response.

Kovis glanced up from the stack of EMR readings. It wasn't unusual from Grem to call out specific times and events that it found anomalous like this. It was after all a former Space Born A.I., just in all these years it's never been more than just that. An anomaly. Its track record combined with its current operational status doesn’t inspire much confidence in its findings.

“Priority-One. Please review Radio Signal Data”.

“Prio-Priority-One!” Kovis stammered looking around the room for the nearest security camera. “Have you gone the rest of the way looney!? Priority-One is for Confirmed ET’s! Where do you get off dropping a Priority-One and sitting on it until now? If you say some more nonsense about netting I swear to the Sons I’ll file your transfer myself!”

There was no response from the intercom. Only silence and an ever so slightly static hiss. Kovis’s glowing blue eyes at last found the Camera in the room's corner. The A.I. gazing at him intently.

Without another word he turned back to the wall of electronics, not sure exactly what to expect. Not knowing if he was going to have to humor this thing in a few moments or not, he grabbed the nearby pair of headphones and slipped them over his head adjusting the dials on the radio wave recorder first to the appropriate date and then the appropriate time. Suddenly he wished he had his coffee to drink, or cig to smoke. There was a weight on him he never felt or imagined before as he was about it hit the playback button on the recording. After all, this could be it. He glanced up at the A.I. again. Still watching him silently, expectantly, and perhaps even, knowingly. No... This thing couldn't have found anything. It would be another solar flare, or callistan echo, maybe some weird gurgles from Europa at most. Nothing to worry about. All things they have recorded hundreds of times before. No need to worry, just get it over with.

-click-

The headphones fell to the floor.
Last edited by New Gothland on Wed Sep 23, 2020 8:50 am, edited 2 times in total.

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Fenvaria Republic
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Fenvaria Republic » Sat Nov 21, 2020 6:28 pm

Outpost Beta
Far Northern
Several days later


Thunk. With the final bolt, the last heavy machine gun was set into its tripod, providing an overlapping field of fire to the rather small outpost that laid on the furthest edge of the colonial boundaries. Private Karzhov smiled and looked out upon the untamed wilderness of the land from the perimeter of the outpost, there was a sense of peace and comfort out here but also a sense of adventure. Like there was something beckoning for him to go out there and explore. But, he had his orders, which were to set up this outpost and provide a warning to the colony for any sort of incoming forces both of hostile or friendly origin.

The youthful and steel grey furred fenvarian then nudged in the shoulder as one of the other troopers in the outpost walked over and presented him with a glass bottle of soda. The private nodded and took it, he then popped the cap and took a sip of the clear liquid. At the same time the other trooper sat on one of the nearby crates started to drink their drink as well, then slowly the two started to talk about whatever topic that popped into their head. For a few moments, there was a sense of relaxation and peace in the outpost as the troopers started to view their handy work. Which was a solid network of simple zig-zagging trench lines with dugouts and ammo depots, these positions were further reinforced with cerami-metal bars. It wasn't much, but for now, it was home and it was cozy.

But the calm and friendly air was broken when the sentries on duty spotted something moving in the tree line, prowling its way towards the outpost. This was further supported by the incoming buzz of some sort of aircraft over heavy, which sounded nothing like the Republic fighters or dropships. Then through the buzzing, the outpost’s sirens started to wail, causing the troopers to stop their relaxation and rush into their battle positions, grabbing their weapons, armor and other pieces of gear.

“Oi! One of you two, get on the ‘14 and cover the fighting trench, watch that tree line!” yelled one of the corporals as they ran out of a dugout slapping their helmet on their head, and gesturing to Karzhov and the other trooper. The two would look at each other for a moment before Karzhov jumped up and took up position on the machine gun, firmly grasping the two handles and butterfly trigger, racked the charging handle and flipped open the top of the heavy machine gun. The other trooper grabbed one of the boxes of ammunition and placed it into the holder, then flipped open the ammo can and then pulled out a belt of ammunition after which he began to feed ammo into the machine gun. Once the gun was fed, the trooper slapped down the top and Karzhov racked the charging handle once more, the belt moved forward and a round entered the chamber. With everything ready, Karzhov peered down the sights of the heavy machine gun and waited for the unknown to burst through the tree line. He was expecting a large force of infantry supported by armor and other military equipment, instead what came through the tree line was a single cybernetic or synthetic wolf of sorts. He raised an eye at this, it must be some sort of scouting probe before the main advance.

In the command bunker of the outpost, the lieutenant growled and bit down on the end of his cigar, infuriated by what was going on he slammed his fist down on the table. Causing several troopers nearby to look at the agitated officer with a concerned glare. “Communications! Send a message to the main colony, tell them we have encountered some sort of scout or probe. It might be a prelude to an invasion.”

The communications officer nodded and turned around to the two grey metal boxes that had all sorts of knobs on it, one could mistake it for a radio. However, the communications officer grabbed the other metal box and flicked it open, revealing what appeared to be an old telegram encoder. With a crack of his knuckles, the officer set the encoding frequency and then started to tap away, relaying the message to the main colony.

Code: Select all
Urgency: Alpha
Unknown probe encountered. Possible prelude to invasion. Prepare the main colony in case of incursion.


New Festung
Main colony
Colony HQ
Later


Progress had been made in the last several days as the Republic colonists started to clear more land for their colony and move further inland, in order to find more resource deposits. Where they had landed was indeed a fjord with a number of freshwater rivers, full of fish and other marine wildlife. Not to mention the fjord was heavily forested with might spruce and other evergreen trees. Several scouting and hunting parties have reported an abundant mixture of wildlife, mostly consisting of large game animals. The soil was adequate for growing foods, not the sort of golden basket that they wanted, but it was still better than nothing. By the soil reports, there was no way in hell they were going to be growing tropical food in this fjord.

However, during the last few days the weather seemed to be less than helpful, with it constantly raining as the Republic colonists expanded into the wilderness and worked on laying down the infrastructure of their colony. Even with the constant rain, the colonists were able to establish a solid foot around their landing site, which was mostly prefabricated buildings, utility lines, and dirt roads.

The colonial fort was one of the first places to be established as it would house the first wave of colonists and the Republic garrison. The fort was split into two sections, the military zone and the civilian zone, the military zone takes up a large part of the fort as it also consists of governmental buildings alongside the barracks, armories, messhalls and air strips of the military zone. There was a small civilian sector that housed the first wave of colonists, whose job was to help the military build up the colony and its defenses for the later waves of colonists. As each wave of colonists would, in theory, build off one another and expand the colony as a whole. Whether it be from the main colony or its various settlements that surrounded the main colony.

Around the fort was an impressive line of ‘light’ fortifications, which largely consisted of artillery pits, machine gun nests, loosely connected fighting holes with some major trench works around key positions or hills throughout the fjord to ward off any aggressive forces. At least for now, there were no such aggressive forces that wanted to intrude or deny the Republic their landing zone. It sort of put the Colonel at ease, as it allowed him to divert soldiers from manning the defensive positions to helping with further construction, the engineering units he was assigned have been helping out immensely with the colony construction. However, there weren't enough engineers to be working on everything that came with basically setting up a new city from scratch.

Relaxing in his chair, he looked over a data tablet that showed the progress of the colony, there was still a lot that needed to be done, but they were making good time. A significant number of buildings had been put up, but there was still a large number of people living on the colony ship that were eager to get out of the crapped metal box. But, there wasn't enough suitable housing right now, unless they wanted to make a tent city around the colony ship. He figured that many of them would stick to their cabins as it was a pretty solid structure and kept them protected from the elements.

It was then one of his aides walked in and handed him a tablet that outlined several outposts that were a distance away from the main colony with their sole purpose to be a warning station about anything approaching the colony. Taking the tablet, the Colonel started to scroll through it and review the mission reports that the outposts had sent back. Most of them appeared to be either fully operational reports with a few reports by some eager geology or science teams. For the most par, nothing out of the ordinary struck out at him. According to the reports, this region was rich in minerals, which was good as it confirmed their hopes and it also allowed them to quickly set up their industrial base to get this colony rolling. It would allow them to produce more farming equipment and building materials, helping further expand the Republic colony, but it also would help out if the colony got into any wars. Which the Colonel was adamant on avoiding, which meant avoiding any local nations for as long as possible, but he highly doubted that their presence would go unnoticed for long.

“Good,” he mumbled to himself with a nod as he looked to the aide, “This report is a shining beacon to our prosperity here, now we just need to expand the colony to take advantage of these resources.”

However, his suspicions was then confirmed when another aide walked in with a report from one of the furthest outposts from the main colony. With a hiss the siding door closed behind them and they walked over to the dark oak desk that sat in front of the Colonel, where they placed down the report before stepping back. The report had a ‘Outpost report, read immediately’ stamped on the front of it, drawing the Colonel’s eye to it. With a raised eyebrow the Colonel stopped reading the resource report, picked up the outpost report, and began to read it. After a few moments of silence the colonel placed down the report

“Damn, I thought we would have more time. Order all troopers to alert status and bunker down, we have no idea what these robots are capable of, I want them watched until we know more. Stat running interference with our fighters, if we can I would like us to have air superiority if anything was to happen.”

“Yes sir”
IC Name: Thalduhm Republic
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The Caleshan Valkyrie
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Postby The Caleshan Valkyrie » Sat Feb 06, 2021 8:27 pm

"I'm going to have to chat with Starwalker about the detail of his surveys," Corchat grumbled while watching the forested land rush by. Their Sleipnir kept low to the ground, and the squad of Valkyries flying escort kept close enough that he could see the pilots even without his optic implants. The storage bay behind them held several crates full of auxiliary power supplies for the Direwolves, rocking merrily with the vibrations of the aircraft. "I would have prioritized this location much more readily if I'd known of the plant life here."

"Respectfully sir," Kenzhen replied from just behind him, "you would not have. You hate mountains, and even if the ecosystem here were known to be so verdant you would not have felt a need to prioritize it. The only reason we're here at all is because somebody else got here, and they have something we want."

Corchat's only reply was an annoyed grumble, inaudible through the drone of the Sleipnir's engines but heard through the crew's headsets nonetheless.

"And if I'm honest," Kenzhen continued, "we've all become so used to steppe and stone and sand that the sight of an actual tree, much less an entire forest is just... so much mythology and mysticism. Would any of us have believed Cala Victus if he'd given us such details?"

"I'd have marked it up to another of Victus' pranks," the copilot answered helpfully. "Could we set down somewhere near a river? I want to try some honest-to-goodness natural freshwater."

"That does sound good," Corchat muttered thoughtfully, scratching the stubble on his chin. Caleshan water supplies were provided entirely by desalination, with all of their extremely limited indigenous freshwater devoted to agriculture. Being able to taste all-natural unpurified fresh water was considered an unqualified luxury that was often one of the primary draws to the Night Wolf Tribe. They went where no other Caleshan had gone before, so if they happened upon a spring and took a few gallons who was around to complain? "Tell you what, if we get some time after we've dealt with this minor emergency, we'll poke around and look for a nice clear stream where we can fill up a few canteens. Might come back later with some barrels, too."

The resulting "Cala Commands!" was significantly more enthusiastic than before.

As it stood, their progress over the past few days had been nothing short of miraculous. Getting a vehicle as large as a landcarrier through many hundreds of miles of mountainous terrain would have taken other tribes two weeks at the most conservative of estimates. Though he was quick to shrug it off, all of the Night Wolves knew it was Corchat's logistical genius that got them through those mountains in record time. Even now, Night Wolf 1 was only an hour's full burn behind them.

"Cala Night Wolf!" another voice called into the comm, "message from Cala Starwalker!"

One nice thing about flying in a Sleipnir, Victus couldn't just butt in on a conversation as easily.

"What's the word?" Corchat replied.

"Victus reports that Azzakrat's last location was off the southeast coast. She was shadowing some Pudite vessels that are keeping post in the area watching the hostilities on the next big landmass over. Victus also reports that he provided her the telemetry of the outworlders. She abandoned her position almost immediately and started moving parallel to the coast. That was two days ago."

Corchat did some mental math, then balled his fists tightly enough to draw blood. "Seven curses to the wind... she might beat us there! Attention all units, I am giving permission to full-burn. Get me the Direwolf handlers, and somebody get our intel officer on the line! I have an urgent call to make!"




As if on some kind of unspoken cue and seemingly apropos of nothing, the direwolves all took off at a dead run and the aircraft seemed to surge in their approach speeds. Though the direwolves moved at a tremendous speed, they seemed to be giving any kind of settled areas an extremely wide berth and keeping a respectful distance from any vehicles or structures altogether.

On a communications channel that had been identified to be in use by the newcomers, a message began to play. It was unencrypted, open-broadcast, and the language was understandable though heavily accented:

Unidentified Outworlders:

By this point you have encountered our scouts and advance aircraft. We mean your people no harm, but it is imperative that our scouts be permitted to traverse your established territory in order to reach the coast. Repeat, we mean your people no harm. Our scouts will not engage with your forces and will actively avoid contact with any kind of artificial construction.

Cala Corchat of the Night Wolf tribe extends to you his greetings and urgently requests a meeting. Please respond on this channel ASAP.
Last edited by The Caleshan Valkyrie on Sat Feb 06, 2021 8:32 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Godulan Puppet #2, RPing as technologically advanced tribal society combined between several groups of ancient arabs and mongols with vikings.

Intro RP: Gravity Ships and Garden Snips (involved tribes: Plainsrider, Hawkeye, Wavecrasher)
Current RP: A Rock Out of Place (involved tribes: Night Wolf, Deep Kraken, Starwalker)

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Fenvaria Republic
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Fenvaria Republic » Thu Apr 15, 2021 5:39 pm

Ft. New Festung
Republic Colony in Varathron
Main colony


“Sir, the unknown entity has made contact with us” replied one of the communications officers, the colonel looked up and took the cigar out of his mouth, and looked over the officer. The officer appeared to be a lieutenant with soft white fur and pale skin, her eyes were ruby red eyes. The casual flick of her canine-like tail and ears needlessly identified that she was a fenvarian.

“What do they want?”

“They are requesting that we allow them to pass through our territory so that they may reach our coastline. It seems they are in a hurry too, several of our outposts have reported that their aircraft have picked up in speed, which these reports are confirmed by the fighters that we deployed to ensure air superiority.” stated a communications officer who then handed over a folder with the reports from the outposts. With an annoyed and displeased sigh, the colonel took the folder and started looking it over, then at the same time the communications lieutenant continued to speak; “Their mechanical hounds have also gone around our posts to the north. Soldiers stationed there report that these hounds are giving each outpost a large berth as they make their way to the coast. It seems like in their message they are keeping true to their word.”

Without a second word, the colonel closed the folder and carefully placed it onto his desk, he was less than pleased with the situation. Not even a few days after landing they encountered a force that managed to track them down but also had managed to launch an exploratory mission on them. What was even worse is that they had the audacity to say they come in peace, in the face of what could be an offensive operation. The topping on the cake was that they are practically demanding that they let them through to get to the sea for some reason. Silent for some time, the Colonel then removed his cigar and puffed out a thick cloud of black smoke before turning to the communications officer. While his face showed a calm and collected demeanor, the eyes of the colonel betrayed such appearances. Metaphorical flames burned in his eyes as he stared at the officer and then to the report remaining quiet as he tapped the ash of his cigar into a nearby smoking tray.

“Do we have any idea who these people are?” calmly asked the colonel as he held the cigar in his fingers, lightly squeezing in his fingers as he waited for an answer.

“Yes, it seems the leader of this faction is known as a ‘Cala Corchat’ leader of the Night Wolf tribe”

“Tribe......” mused the colonel as he placed the cigar back in his mouth and took another draw from the tobacco. “Tribe.....so there is more?” The colonel paused and then looked down at the report as the communications officer stood there for a few moments. In the back of the colonel’s head, he was wondering if there was a way to exploit this. There had to be something that they could do to stop this push into their newly claimed territory.

After a few moments of awkwardly standing there, the officer finally continued, “Possibly, sir. However, we don't know enough about these people nor what their culture is to be entirely sure. Nor do we know their objectives.”

“We do know one of their objectives, and that is the sea. For some reason, they want to go through our territory to reach the sea. And if there are more tribes out there, then they are looking to compete with these other tribes for personal favors or pride. It is entirely possible that we could manipulate this system to our own benefit, in theory at least.”

“I am not following, sir”

“You know how the Republic still has nobles right?”

“Yes.”

“Well imagine it like this, each noble-born child has to keep proving their family worth and as soon as they fail they are cast out. Now apply that to a larger scale and replace the nobles with tribes. So, this tribe is most likely looking for something out in the sea that would elevate their status and/or prove their power to the rest of the tribes. But, when we landed we got caught in the middle of their internal politics and power struggle. This explains the situation we are in right now.” The colonel sighed and took another drag from his cigar “Which, is more than infuriating since this area was expected to be unoccupied. But, I think those Aumanii diplomats failed to mention that.”

“I think I understand now, so each of these tribes is acting independently as a sort of pseudo nation? Then each one of these pseudo nations is fighting each other in a name of political power that we just landed in? So, refusing them entry would help the other tribes, but helping them would anger the others?”

“That is how it looks so far.” replied the colonel with a disappointed and frustrated sighed colonel as he leaned forward, placing the cigar onto the ashtray. “The best we can do is simply contact them and figure out what they want.”

“Orders for the outer defensive line?”

“For now, tell them to hold their fire and let them pass, as long as they stay away from our outposts we have no reason to fire upon them. As for the fighters, have our fighters trail them, maybe they can give us a clue to what they are looking for. Until we can figure out a solution to all of this, there is no point to start shooting. Record this message for this ‘Cala Corchat’, after you are done, connect us to that line and transmit that message. Hopefully, they will pick up, we have some business to attend to.”

“As you wish, sir” replied the officer, who nodded and pulled out a datapad, where she transcribed the message and returned to the communications station. Once the officer returned to the station, she handed off the message and connected the colonel to the line

This is Colonel Arvo Toivanen, Militant Governor of the New Festung colony, of the Thalduhm Republic. I understand this is a direct line to a ‘Cala Corchat, we have business to attend to.
IC Name: Thalduhm Republic
Read my factbooks!! I do not use NS Stats

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The Caleshan Valkyrie
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby The Caleshan Valkyrie » Fri Apr 16, 2021 6:49 pm

Corchat sat in a dim portion of the passenger bay, scanning through video feeds of the outworlder aircraft. Their architecture presented all manner of conundrums, appearing highly advanced in some ways but barely better than steam in others, but he could not deny that their raw speed spoke for itself. His aircraft would be hard pressed to keep up with such craft were the two groups to enter a duel, though he had no means of comparing their respective armaments and capabilities. The Remans had shown that Caleshan railguns were not the biggest in the realm, but analysis of various recovered artifacts seemed to indicate that the Caleshan had miniaturized such weapons to a greater extent.

But these were outworlders. All he knew to expect was the unexpected. All current recordings of outlander aircraft were during non-combat conditions. Granted there was one admittedly glaring exception, but that flying object had been the size of a naval cruiser.

The intelligence officer, still somewhat bleary-eyed after being unceremoniously dumped out of his seat while napping, gave a whoop of surprise in his cubby and started chattering with another communications officer. Then, sounding much more official, he toggled his mic and started speaking while waving Corchat over. He nearly bumped Corchat's chest with his first wave, as the Cala had cleared the distance between them in the few seconds he'd been talking. After a moment, he handed the headset over while whispering, "Colonel Arvo Toivanen, Militant Governor. Thal-doom Republic. Says 'we have business'."




**Receiving loud and clear, Colonel. Please stand by.**

*thump clonk* *unintelligible whispering*

**Greetings, Colonol Arvo Toivanen! This is Cala Corchat Night Wolf of the Night Wolf Tribe, representing the Convocation Compact of the Caleshan Valkyrie. Please accept my apologies for the disruptive way in which our two groups have met, but time is of the essence. On behalf of the Compact, I would like to open diplomatic negotiations with your people. My Sleipnir is on rather fast approach, would you prefer that I set down somewhere so that we could meet?**
Last edited by The Caleshan Valkyrie on Sun Apr 18, 2021 12:46 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Godulan Puppet #2, RPing as technologically advanced tribal society combined between several groups of ancient arabs and mongols with vikings.

Intro RP: Gravity Ships and Garden Snips (involved tribes: Plainsrider, Hawkeye, Wavecrasher)
Current RP: A Rock Out of Place (involved tribes: Night Wolf, Deep Kraken, Starwalker)

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The Master M
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby The Master M » Sun Apr 25, 2021 9:04 am

Most Serene Republic Space Command (SPACOM) Deep Space Monitoring Station 7
Southern Master M
0346


The main control room of DSMS Seven was quiet at this early hour, its few inhabitants dispersed among rows of consoles represented by spears of light penetrating the semi-darkness. Most of the staff were performing routine monitoring work – this was one of sixteen such stations around the Most Serene Republic responsible for handling and analysing the vast streams of data being sent from the Mian stations, probes, and satellites spread throughout the solar system. The only midly exciting thing to have happened during the nightshift was confirmation that an automated resupply capsule had docked successfully with MSRSC Integrity, the Mian manned station orbiting Europa, and many of the technicians were fighting boredom.

Without warning, a series of small orange lights started flashing on the workstation marked ‘Near Earth Infrared Detection Array’. Within seconds a technician was manning it, furiously switching between readouts on the screens in front of her, readouts which showed a large heat bloom appearing far beyond the moon’s orbit. As the woman waited for the computer to analyse the data, a new stream of information appeared on the screen – as soon as the alert was detected, another satellite in the array had automatically been tasked to gather multi-spectral data on the anomaly, including that in the visual spectrum. Her heart skipped a beat as the first image resolved itself on the display.

No fucking way, she thought, as she looked at what was unmistakeably a space craft far more advanced than had any right to exist.

The technician’s brain whirled as she desperately tried to recall the protocols for such a situation – they had always been taken as a sort of joke, rather than something they were actually expected to need to follow. Within minutes she was calling her direct supervisor via her neural link, expecting a rapid answer giving the nature of the medium, but was surprised when the AI contained within the chip advised that it was being prevented from connecting the call. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and looked up to see the crisp uniform of an Mian Intelligence officer.

“This is very clearly an equipment malfunction,” spoke the man, even as his own AI scanned the system to delete any log of the data the technician had just reviewed. She watched as the screen went blank and then restarted, showing no clue of anything out of the ordinary.

“You are to mention nothing of this unfortunate error, or you may be prosecuted under Section 17 of the Military Secrets Act.”

The technician stammered, still in shock at her discovery and intimidated by the threats from the intelligence officer. “B-but people have a right to know! Aliens exist, we can’t keep this secret!”

“Don’t be absurd,” the officer smiled sadly, “everybody knows that aliens do not exist”.
Last edited by The Master M on Mon Apr 26, 2021 5:43 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Fenvaria Republic
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Fenvaria Republic » Wed May 12, 2021 2:47 pm

Ft. New Festung
Republic Colony in Varathron
Main colony


As the colonel listened on, he picked up a piece of paper and wrote down a message to the communications officer, informing him to gather the coordinates of their furthest outpost. The officer nodded and took the piece of paper, then quickly looked it over and nodded. Swiftly the officer left and the colonel continued to listen to the conversation before quickly replying.

“I think it would be beneficial for both sides that we meet in person. I have chosen one of our border outposts to be the site of the diplomatic meetings. Unfortunately, I can not let outsiders into the core region of the colony, there is too much of a security risk involved with it. I will be present at the outpost.” replied Colonel Arvo Toivanen with a dry and serious tone. Soon the officer returned and placed the outpost folder down on the desk, the colonel nodded and opened it up, reading the coordinates too. After which he placed down the microphone and muted it, not wanting the other side to hear what they were going to talk about.

“Sir, outpost Beta is one of the furthest outposts from the colony, is there a reason why you requested that outpost?”

“Because it's the farthest from the colony, so they would not have access to the advanced facilities of the colony. We can not allow them to see the colony as a whole, it is too much of a security risk. As they could use that information to attack us or could use this meeting to get into our systems.” he then paused as he grabbed the paper that had the coordinates on it, and placed it off to the side. “So, by setting the meeting at an outpost that has little to no access to our systems and the furthest from our colony, we have reduced the chances of such intel gathering.”

“I think I understand it...”

“In short, we are new to this planet and no have no other allies. We must keep ourselves hidden from all outside forces and threats until we have the capacity to build up our defensive capabilities. At the moment, we do not have the capabilities of waging a protracted defensive war for more than six to eight months.” started the colonel with a sigh as he picked up his cigar and took a puff from it, the ashened end turning a bright orange before fading. He then blew out a cloud of smoke and continued to speak. “And that is purely optimistic predictions, in reality, we could hold out for some time before we run out of fenvarium, then have to rely on other power sources and dig in our vehicles. According to our reports, this area has several oil deposits, which we can use to create synthetic fenvarium but we do not have the material nor the capacity to build that infrastructure. The alternative energy generators, like solar, should be ready by the month's end, which would free up a significant portion of our fuel reserves. But, until then...”

“We would have to rely on our fenvarium supply. In short, we are pretty much buying as much time as we can?”

“Yes....as terrible as it sounds...so we need to buy time for us to get everything up and running. It's going to be a trial by fire. Send a telegram to Outpost Beta, tell them to get ready for a diplomatic meeting and requisition a dropship with a small security detail.”

“Yes sir.”

Outpost Beta
Furthest Republic Outpost


“Ma’am! Communication from command!” reported the communications sergeant, turning around in their chair. He was a younger-looking fenvarian, with short feline ears and a feline-like tail. His face was covered in scars and their soft brown amber eyes had a slight glow to them. The sergeant also had a set of round glasses and shorter hair, making him look like a nerd.

The platoon’s lieutenant turned around a soft-looking evandari female with blood irises with a hint of silver that went well with her fur color. However, she had an exhausted and defeated look on her face, which was only aided by the massive black bags under her eyes. She turned her head and glared at the communications sergeant, she sighed before taking the cigar out of her mouth as she casually walked over. “What in the Wolf Mother’s name does the command want with us? They send us to the furthest and shittest place in the region. Then tell us to set up survey equipment and sensors, then we get some fucking robot dogs running around and we cant shoot the damn things. What the hell...I swear after this I need a bottle of vodka.” she mumbled finally reaching the communications sergeant

The sergeant held out the telegram message and the lieutenant took it out of his hand, then began to read the message. At first, her face was filled with disinterest but as she read further into the message, she pulled the paper closer and squinted, before disbelief crossed her face.

“Something the matter, Lieutenant?” asked the sergeant, pushing his glasses up and raising an eyebrow.

The lieutenant said nothing, instead, she took her cigar and used it to light the paper on fire, too much of the horror of the communications sergeant. She then turned around and placed the cigar in her mouth, practically biting down on the one end. “Order the men to destroy all documentation about the resources in this region and troop movements. I want all sensitive documents scrubbed from our files, if they can't be scrubbed, put them under lock and key before burying them. Preferably under the floor of a dugout, one of the newer ones with a dirt floor. After that, order the men to prepare for visitors. I want all rifles to be cleaned down and soldiers to wear their patrol caps with their full combat gear on.”

“Copy that, ma’am.” replied the communications sergeant with a sigh as he picked up his radio and called all of the squad leaders to the command tent. In the meantime, the rest of the communications team went to work, either burning or collecting any sort of sensitive information about the colony or the other military deployments.
IC Name: Thalduhm Republic
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Tech: FT, 2370s (dieselpunk theme)


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