HoshizoraBoard

Darkness, eternal perpetual darkness, on all sides, dripped down from the cave's roof and flooded from its walls to engulf the Krys rangers. It was oppressive, its gnawing never ceasing, from birth to death, the darkness would gnaw at them. Was that why they sought out the glorious, holy, mighty, blessed light of science. To stop and beat back the darkness. Atlas pondered this, as his cold metallic goggles, which dug into his head, its nails having been hammered in many years ago. These goggles forged from the holiest of chapel labs, sputtered to life, their holy whirring, filling his sensitive ears. He could breathe a sigh of relief as the darkness was wiped away, and he could hear the holy cants of the science god, ringing from the goggles.

Atlas himself was a sergeant in the Nauka Reyndzher. The Nauka Reyndzher were tasked in not only defending the passages into the holy land, but also acting as recon soldiers that could scout out sites for further expansion, and slow reclamation of their weeping world. To his left to stood Captain Gryzun, a hardened veteran of a hundred pacifications, his back arched further back then a hunch back, his bones creaked and clicked as he walked forward. His body is covered in armor of pale gray, which shimmered in Atlas goggles. To his right stood private Mysh. A starry eyed recruit, he shimmered with hope, a very very rare trait of the Krys. Atlas always found him to be childish, knowing that eventually either his hope would die, or he would. Behind him stood Corporal Pal’Moyva, the simmering heat of his, Unichtozheniye gun, it’s ammo a swirling black, with mixtures of dark purple, popping in its massive ten inch barrel.

Atlas himself could feel the heat of his plasma gun. He smiled, its holy warmth filling him with a feeling of safety, comfort in this black maw, which his squad marched through. Their nails dragging and clicking against the gray and black rock of the cave. Atlas was the first to speak, as they walked through the deep caverns. “I heard a joke earlier, you take the shlyukha Queen of the Cypherians, and introduce her to a dozen men, and she had a child, if you did a DNA test on it, there would be thirteen fathers.” He could hear the Captains rasp of a laugh come from his crusted and cracked lips. He could also hear Mysh and Pal let out little chuckles.

“Oh...I have one.” said Pal, his deep scraggly voice echoing across the walls of the cavern, as he spoke. “How many Dynas does it take to change a lightbulb, none cause they have to know what a light bulb is first.” he said, and that caused the whole squad to start sputtering in laughter. There hoarse, scraggly and scratching like laughter echoing down the thick rock of the caverns.

Mysh then spoke up. “Well you know the Seraphs they…” he was promptly stopped, as the Captain turned around and jabbed the butt of his arkaplasma thrower into Mysh stomach. “Do not joke about them private...they are our protectors...our guidance...the greatest creation of the mighty scientist Gabri-” he stopped, his nose sticking into the air, and he started to sniff, his ears twitching. Atlas pondered what he smelt, before it literally leaped from the shadows. Gryzun let out a roar, as he turned around blasting out a flume of blue and green flame, which lit up the dark cavern. Before them stood a Drevniye bogi, its head, a mesh of two dozen eyes, all humanoid like scattered across its bulbic like head, its skin was a sickly yellow, as dozens upon dozens of greasy slick tentacles roared from its maw jaws, which stretched twenty feet, lines of thousands of fangs, which moved like worms as it beckoned forward. Its body was even more horrific, its legs were like a bent centipede, hundreds lining its body. Its body was made up of thousands upon thousands of writhing disgusting rotten yellow colored worm like creatures which acted as almost protection to whatever was beneath its hideous writhing mass, as two massive spinley, humanoid like arms, covered in disgusting tumors and hair, with giant three foot long claws, stretched from this mass of writhing worms. It’s back side consisted of a bulbous, bent and cancerous rear oozing with thick blots of red sludge, hundreds upon hundreds of spider-like legs stretching from it.

The creature roared as the flame touched it, searing its flesh but leaving it seemingly undamaged. The creature let out a gleeful hiss, as its tentacles shot forward faster then lighting, dozens, as the creature's arms reached. Atlas saw his life flash before his eye, as the creature's mass ushered forward like a wave. He prayed for a miracle, as he felt the first tentacle reach him and his weapon, he prayed that something or someone could save him and his squad, as the demon from the dark looked to tear them limb from limb.

Shinboku

A Giant Meteor blazes through the sky overhead; leaving a trail of sparks in the sky above your region; those sparks seem to fall in a particular pattern, spelling out the words:

CONGRATULATIONS ON BEING FEATURED

before the meteor vanishes over the horizon; leaving the sky dark and empty as it passes through.

L empire wrote:

The first thing George and clovis spotted, was the Indigeous populations rapid mobilization, they had obviously set some alarm off and could see artillery cannons being positioned in various places. The march of armored warriors coming from towering golden hills. They had definitely spooked them, but they seemed to not want to take any aggressive action towards them, more so just a sort of defensive measure.

A second look would also see an elegant chariot, driven by two cockroach looking beasts trampling across the dirt. It’s wood having elegant carvings of galaxies across it, with wheels of a mahogany like wood. Something important was in there, as the chariot approached closer and closer to the field.

Juro’benn, swallowed hard as he felt the revolver put against his head. His mind went wild. He considered his options, it would be two against one. His old bones likely wouldn’t be able to catch them off guard, and would most likely end up with him dead. He also suspected the fact this woman hadn’t immediately shot him, that must mean they were at least somewhat peaceful, and the news they were prospectors dashed his hope they wouldn’t be arrogant, as he’s heard that word used by Cypherians when they tried to claim a moon of the nearby gas giant. He slowly lowered his rifle and put it on the ground slowly. “I am Juro’benn, retired battery sergeant of the twenty eighth company of the armies of the Pingyuaxani, I also served in the greater armies of the Dynar Host, soldiers of Musie, servants of Father Gabriel, Alohai incarnate. I apologize...for any hastiness.” he said to Saiorsee as he stepped back slightly.

Clovis lowered his binoculars and turned his head, “George, they’re putting up quite a lot of cannons on that ridge. And I think there’s some kind of chariot moving towards us.”
The Fatimazda looked up from lighting his pipe, “let them turn all the guns they want on us. I’m sure they’re bloody savages, regardless. If they do start shooting we just hide in the ship’s wake and blast off.” He nodded and puffed his smoking pipe, “speaking of which, why don’t you prep the ship for emergency take off.” The Âne nodded and quickly walked off. “Elizabeth, stop sleeping. We may need that boiling blood of yours.”
The creach opened one eye, “unless my husband is in trouble I don’t want to hear it.”

Saoirse slowly holstered her revolver as the man put his rifle on the ground. “John go back to the ship.” The Creach scrambled to his feet and took off running for the ship. “See? We’re calm and civilised now. Nice to meet you Juro Ben. Though I can’t say it’s nice to see all your friends out there.” She gestured to the hills of cannons and chariot nearby. “Care to walk with me back to my ship?”

Hey Hey! You're Featured Today! Congratulations My Friends!
\_O_/ Yay! :D

Ahem

We're also low on fuel... Do you take silver for Helium-3? D-Do you guys have Helium-3?

Ruthenie wrote:

Lt. Kara: "Sir! It's been 10 hours! The natives are not responding!"

Colonel Autumn: "Try harder damnit!"

Peanut, Kara's droid beeps and boops as it attempts different frequencies on its own built-in communications array

Lt. Kara orders her engineers and comms specialists to manually tune the ship's communications systems

Lt. Kara: "Damn... Do these region dwellers even posses radio?"

Admiral Sakura Omori, builder of modern Tordelia, one of the most powerful women in the East, and one very popular woman among coffee sellers, answered the call. Even if it was way below her paygrade, but first contacts as hosts needed some dignity. "This is Admiral Omori, and you're in Celestial Imperium space. What is your purpose here, ship that somehow materialized out of the ethersea?" she asked as a liquid sound could be heard filling up a container over the comms.

Ruthenie wrote:

Lt. Kara: "Sir! It's been 10 hours! The natives are not responding!"

Colonel Autumn: "Try harder damnit!"

Peanut, Kara's droid beeps and boops as it attempts different frequencies on its own built-in communications array

Lt. Kara orders her engineers and comms specialists to manually tune the ship's communications systems

Lt. Kara: "Damn... Do these region dwellers even posses radio?"

Near a communications center, a Fatimazda was snoring. Arms crossed and feet up. He was wearing a white dress shirt and a waistcoat, but no jacket. His tie was pulled loose and the headset he was supposed to be wearing had fallen in his lap. Transmissions kept buzzing by until he finally opened his eyes. Gasping he quickly picked up the headset and put it on, listening to the messages being broadcasted on open channels.
“Huh...? Stranded ship? Bloody nora!” He started writing down notes on a piece or paper. Flipping a switch he brought a microphone to his face, “controller? Yes, this is Rogers, we have an emergency. Stranded ship off the Spine of Cerulean.”

The ship would receive communications, “This is Station Master Gladstone-Mycroft. We’ve received your communications. Do you require resque and repair?”

Honour guard wrote:

Filia kept an eye on Elise as she looked over Harlock, from what Elise can tell... Well if she has ever encountered a lifeform who never really needed to breathe before since it appeared that he lacked a mouth... And from the look of it his body was.. Well it was rippling for lack of a better word, like he was made of Jelly. Not even Jazmin may have seen this yet since he never really showed off the real changing side of his heritage. Just some of the tricks that came with it. Something Filia did speak up on "Oh right, should have said something. Harlock here has Changeling heritage, Changelings are gelatinous morphing lifeforms with strong psychic potential. Usually they only have a lifespan of afew days at best since they were originally made for recon, they would outlive their usefulness after that... But his father made him so he had a more humanoid lifespan. Around 140 years if I remember the conversation... But anyways. don't be put off. it won't try to suck you in or anything, just don't push too hard on him when he's like that. Otherwise you might actually fall into him." Even if she says that, for the most part it just looked like Harlock was resting.

She says before looking to Jazmin as she snuck over to whisper to her, she then turns around and leans against something so Elise couldn't read her lips or anything as she whispers back. "I know, but so far she hasn't said anything on it. I haven't really asked her directly but I did mention it I think... I may have said it to myself. Looks pretty evident that she's been locked down here for awhile, whoever put her down here certainly didn't try coming back to get her."

-----

"Oh I do apologise my lady. I don't know what could have came over me." He just keeps his smirk as he follows alongside her, he was a little thrown off with how she responded to his tail. He was hoping to see her all flustered. Looks like he'll have to try harder next time. Still, the suggestion of lunch was a well received one as he happily nodded along. "That sounds like a delightful idea. We haven't eaten since this morning and there wasn't much to have on the train... Know any that would be nice?"

Doctor Elise kept this in mind as she worked, but after a few minutes, she stepped back. “Well, I believe I’ve done all I can. I do say you are a most interesting race, but alas, it’s been many years since I’ve brushed up on Xenobiology.”
Jazmin’s lip soured as she continued to whisper, “We should confront her about it-“ Jazmin stopped talking as Elise finished her work. “Alright, Elise whoever you are. I want some answers. Why were you down here, and why do you sound like the AI that’s causing all of the problems here!”
Elise was a bit startled by all of the accusations, “I can assure you I’m not here by choice! And if are referring to the artificial intelligence I invented to manage the One Government’s power grid, I haven’t been in contact with it ever since I was imprisoned by those idiots for ‘conspiring against the One World Government!” Jazmin’s expression turned from anger to pure confusion.

-

“We’re in Bezannia, my dear Sephus! All the cafes are good!” She laughed as she popped off the main avenue to the closest streetcafe. Passing a small hedge barrier and entering an outdoor sitting area, Liline grabbed the closest table. A smartly dressed human waiter in a white shirt, black bowtie, black waistcoat, and white apron over his trousers came to the table.
“Sir, Madam.” He nodded his head to each, “may I interest you in a pot of tea, coffee, or chocolate?”
Liline answered before Sephus even could react, “Chocolate. And we’ll have the High Tea service.” The waiter bowed at the neck and briskly walked off. A few minutes later, a young boy came over and set down a small wire frame, he then set a copper kettle on the frame and two thick ceramic mugs on the table. Pouring the first cup of thick and creamy looking hot chocolate for both the lady and gentleman. The boy bowed at the neck and left. Taking in the environment of the street cafe, there were many a finely dressed Creach women sitting around with Fatimazda and Equiaux. Most of the humans here were the waiting staff. Decorative square hedges separated the sitting area from the sidewalk. There were no awnings over the area since they were under a mountain. But there were hanging garden pots from the side of the building that houses the cafe itself, each pot filled with a miniature tree. This sitting area having tables arranged in a circular manner around a large fountain which had a lion in a proud and noble pose on tope of a pedestal. Lion heads on four sides of the pedestal spewing water into the fountain pool. The sound of gentle piano and symphony could be heard over the bustling of the cafe and the street, but the radio’s location could not be identified. Just a calm and relaxed upper cafe in this upper part of the city.

Three Némalese men sat around in a circle. Each carried a rifle and wore dirty shirts and ragged trousers. Around them were stone buildings, and a dirt road that ran through the town. Each were talking in a native language, telling tales of father’s fathers to pass the time. Across the street from them was a three story square building made of decorative stone blocks. The large windows that stretched from the first to second floors had been beat out, but the iron bars over them remained. The heavy bar gates to the courtyard had been lifted off their hinges and thrown aside. A row of pith helmets sat in the courtyard resting atop spear points. The Flap pole atop the building had been knocked down. The Bezannian flag crumpled and resting on the dirt.
Suddenly shouting. The three men, and more, jumped from their chairs and ran to preplanned positions. Rifles raised and weapons at the ready. From their makeshift ramparts, comprised of furniture and boulders, they saw a large dustcloud in the distance growing closer.

“All squads, this is Lord Keats. Break formation and move to targets.” From the cockpit of his suit of armour, the purple clad human spoke into his comm unit. A horn shaped microphone lay across his chest, a singular ear piece hanging over his ear echoed with the salute of a hundred men.
“Yes, my lord!” The purple mech with its cape billowing in the wind raised its lance high into the air. The other mechs quickly splitting off into squads and circling the town. As the mechs drew closer gunfire erupted from the village. Low caliber bullets that were absorbed by the energy shielding or simply bounced off the mechs armour plating. The circling knights responded by returning with volleys of cannon fire from their heavy cannons. The units with these large cannons aiming at areas with high densities of muzzle flashes. Explosions of dust and rubble erupted all over the outer edges of the village. The Rutherfords soon moving into the village proper, the ones with heavy cannons holding back and continuing to circle quickly around the village while the ones armed with small machine guns entered the streets. Small forces of Ikhanda men who survived the initial barrage of cannon fire still persisted in firing at these Rutherfords, but were either ignored or were met with the forty millimetre rounds of the mechs. It took only a matter of minutes for the Bezannians to enter the village and utterly destroy the garrison of rebels here.
The mechs circled around the main building with the missing gates. Guns aimed inward, the Lord Keats flipped a switch on his control panel. The speakers on the outside of his mech announcing for him, “Attention rebel followers of Sipho Ibaleyo. Your forced here have been destroyed and you now stand alone. Exit the ammunition depot with your hands above your head or taste our continued wraith.” The lord’s mech had holstered its machine gun and simply held its lance now. After a few minutes, several men exited the building with their hands above their heads. After holding them in the courtyard for perhaps half an hour, the tanks and trucks arrived. Red clad Bezannian riflemen hopped down from the trucks and swarmed the town. Entering any building that still stood and dragging out whoever was inside. Several squads converging on the courtyard and rounding up the surrendered men. The Lord’s mech hatch opened and his chair slid out, standing up he put his boot in a stirrup and held onto a rope as a winch lowered him from the mech to the ground. He was met by two captains who saluted him and bowed at their necks.
“Good show.” The lord said with a smile, a swagger stick in his right hand. He walked with the two captains to the courtyard to review all the prisoners who had been rounded up. His blue eyes looking over all the people who were knelt in the dirt. Turning his head slightly he looked to a captain, “have we any idea who perhaps lead their forces here?” Both captains shook their head no and Keats looked back at the group of fifty or so people. He approached a group of three men and looked them over. These men wore bits and pieces of Bezannian uniforms. Bandoliers, boots, belts, and other scavenged equipment. He pointed at them with his stick, “captain, I want you to take these three and have them executed. Judging by this stolen equipment I can speak with confidence. They are militants. The rest can be sent back to New Herneshire for Whitby to deal with.” The officer saluted and riflemen moved in to grab the three men by their collars. Dragging them off, Keats furrowed his brow. “Where are you going?”
A lance corporal responded, “My lord, we’re taking them to the truck to be sent to New Herneshire where they’ll be hanged. Per your order-“
“I said execute them. I did not order you to waste fuel sending them four hundred miles just to be hanged. No, no. I’ll not waste time on such nonsense.”
“Then, my lord, I’ll fetch the engineers to construct the gallows here.”
“For the moon’s sake,” he pointed to a nearby wall, “Line them up!”
A captain quietly spoke up, “my lord, firing squads are only reserved as punishment by a court-martial. We haven’t the authority to execute them by such means.”
Keats responded by stepping closer to the captain, peering down on them. “Captain. These are not Bezannian soldiers or citizens. They are colonial natives. Rebelling against our empress. Look around you. Those helmets on spears. The flag pole laying on the ground. The portrait of our empress with the bullet holes just beyond those doors. Are you defending these people?” The Fatimazda went silent and looked away, “I am Edward Garnet Keats, First Marquess of Keats, and sworn Barrow Knight to Her Imperial Majesty, Shanalotte, First of Her Name. Empress of Bezannia, Queen of Tir Creachdair and Kepioy, and all Bezi Realms thereof.” The Fatimazda quickly turned and nodded at the lance corporal. The corporal pivoted and pushed the three men to the wall where she and another rifleman secured the three.
The Fatimazda captain walked over, “Squad. Quick march!” A squad of soldiers marched over in a line and as they reached their destination marched in place. “Left face!” They stopped marching and turned to face the three natives. “Present arms!” The captain raised their hand into the air as the squad brought the rifles out in front of them. “Aim arms!” The captain suddenly swung their arm down and seven rifles cracked.
“Captain, return to your duties.” Lord Keats said as he walked back to his mech. The soldiers present saluted as he walked away.

Triporea wrote:

George crossed his arms, “personally I’d prefer to keep our meeting out here. And not in your tent. I didn’t invite you into my tent.” The creach just angrily watched Juro’benn, her thick rimmed glasses obscuring much of her facial expressions, but her curled lip and sharp teeth were enough to conclude her thoughts. Saoirse looked calm as ever, but still carried her weapons in holsters which were close at hand. Clovis meanwhile was sitting on the bow of the ship, peering down from up high. John was sitting next to Isabella.
“So, Ee-ohloko. What brings you and all those bloody big cannons so close to our ship?”

George could see the Musie’s face shift from a calm and peaceful look, to a small frown, as he responded. The musie himself internally groaned to himself, does nobody understand respect anymore, it seems the entirety of the cosmos has no understanding of respectful dialogue he thought to himself, as he looked up to George. “I see...I apologize for my peoples extreme response, its just been several millennia since we met another xeno.” he said as he looked around. “We were just worried if you might of been hostile or now, now myself I have come here to meet with the strange...foreigners who have landed on my soil, and to see what their doing here and if a common understanding could be made.” he said as he looked back at George again, locking eyes with him.
“Anyway’s Captain Jeyorge, you have to come to my world to mine, I would be put in a very precarious situation if I just let you dig into the sacred ground for no exchange, that would leave us in open for possible Krys and Cypherian attempts to establishing mining bases as well...but, I do believe if we discussed this further, we may be able to come to an agreement to give you exclusive mining rights.” he said, his brain was trying to piece together the culture of this empire through the brief introductions, and noticed several similarities to the Cypherians. He hoped like the Cypherians a general agreement could be made, showing equal respect. “I am also curious, if you could maybe tell me more about your home Captain?” asked Musie, his tactician mind going through the risk and reward of this interaction, if he could learn more about their culture and civilization in general this could possibly give him a better position in negotiating with the foreigners.

Triporea wrote:

George’s cross arms fell to his side, “Well that’s unfortunate. I’ve been traveling for a while looking for someplace that’d have rich ore deposits and not have anyone too interested in defending the resources and here I find a buncha sentients. Just my bloody luck. You wanted to discuss further so talk. Elaborate your plan and such.” The creach crossed her arms and shook her head.
“You lot seem joyful.” Isabella chuckled.
“What about my home? Dernby isn’t worth talking much about.”
Saoirse and John seemed to be minding their business, Clovis peering down from up high. The Âne was leaning against the railing of the ship and watching everything happen below. Not paying much attention otherwise, as the ladder to the ship was hanging by John and Saoirse.
George continued, “cold, not much there outside of a few cities. Serves as a minor stop for ships on their way north of Bezembay or south from Huron. You’d likely be more interested in Bezembay, capital of the empire. Whole planet is one city, you know. Only been there once when I was a boy. Isabella over there is from Maryburgh. Big desert planet full of miners. It’s where I hired her and John from to engage on this expedition. Saoirse over there is from Kepioy, a large uh... green planet. Don’t know much else about it myself. And clovis up there is from Arlington, a planet much like this one. Except maybe with more rivers. And more hills. Otherwise fields of tall grass is pretty similar to Arlington, though I doubt you lot have anything as close to Rolany here.”

The Musie’s frown continued to grow as he listened to this *extremely* arrogant man speak, his arrogance grinded against his soul, like nails on a chalk board. He pondered briefly, on how could the masterful divine Alohai, which possesses all, and encompasses all. How could it spawn such an arrogant brat. He pondered this as he tried to shuffle that to the back of his mind.

He then heard one of the crew members speak of a city planet, and that immediately caught his interest, though he hid it incredibly well. This Empire must be incredibly advanced, and especially powerful if they could turn an entire planet into a city. It boggled his mind a little bit trying to picture this planet spanning city, he could picture a billion, billion lights blinding you from all directions, it seemed almost maddening trying to picture it. The other worlds interested him too, this empire had many colonies it seemed, with billions dwelling on them.

The Musie, looked back up to Captain Jeyorge. “I see quite an interesting set of worlds you come from. I guess it is time for me to introduce mine. This is Dynar, the homeworld of my race the Dynas, the second children of Gabriel, Alohais will personify. I am Musie Kakesane Ieoloko, victor of the twenty fifth Great Game, slayer of Kata’sad, Conqueror of the villages of Tada’zukee, the annihilator of Nariko’bbun’s Artillery legion. Lighting Lord of the army of the Sandabounduno. I hail from the ethnic clan U-okingu.” he said, as he calmly explained his position and achievements, he had calculated if these foreigners knew of his accomplishments, that would at least raise their respect for him.

“Now to my arrangement, I propose I will grant you exclusive mining rights. If you can exchange with us, firearms and weapons of your Empire.” the Musie said, he expected this to be rejected, but this acted as a test for foreigners, to see how high of bar were they expecting, and how far would he have to negotiate down from.

The Alicorns wrote:

Aurea noted that the type of penetration she didn't enjoy and made swift moves to dodge, which left her little time to gather the energy needed to disrupt Masquif's incoming assault. She tried to desperately remember what the hell was in the briefing about the psions here, but all she got back was the memories of a very, very embarrassing gift from someone close to her. Something about an 'independently published comic made for more mature audiences' and the types of penetration she did prefer. Which just ended up distracting her yet further from Masquif's charging psionic attack.

Masquif laughed out in amusement at Aurea, her confusion and desperation being quite apparent to him. He gave a sadistic smile as the psionic ball he was charging up seemed to reach its peak, and he shouted out, "Just running won't save you! But by all means, keep trying! This is plenty of fun to watch you squirm, ahahaha!" With that, he tossed the psionic orb up into the air, and with a snap of his fingers it broke, causing it to split into a dozen smaller pieces. The pieces of the former orb were jagged bits of energy, and they all suddenly shot out towards Aurea as a burst attack, each acting like a small guided missile. Masquif meanwhile put a finger to his forehead, speaking out, "Let's see how you handle that, and I want a peak." As the psionic missiles flew, Aurea would also feel the Psion reaching out with his mind, attempting to impose upon hers. He was trying to pry into her thoughts, a first step into ripping into her mind properly.