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I don't care.

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I don't care.

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Voting closed: January 04, 2021, 02:28:47 am

[19_EgarAlnis]

[-]You study some documents, and what you find makes your lips curl into a frown. The Endless Emperor/Empress was the only individual with the authority and power to arbitrate any dispute between a Noble and those of rank from within the Empyre. All courts, Naval operations, and local authorities yield to Nobility, only refusing to do so when the Emperor was still active within politics and could support them.

[-] You begin to read through a great many posts from a great many Pirate and Illegal sources. As Alphias of Sol demonstrated, not even the Golden Law of the Pirate King/Queen would be respected by the Nobility, even if presented by an Heir of Sol themself. The Golden Law stated that Brigands, Rebels, Pirates, and other less respectable types, could if they amassed a large enough fleet, be recognized as a sovereign empire and/or government of the Empyre. The Empyre and these Pirates would enter into a mutual defense alliance, and the Navy would no longer view them as a threat. It was an old law, given precedence, and forged into the heart of the Empyre by Sol herself.

[20]Even before Alphias' demonstration, the Nobles had begun to disregard the laws of their own Empyre completely. Democracies were broken, sovereign states and empires were destroyed or had to bend the knee, planets were either ruined or cracked, and the young Noble heirs began to strike out pass the Core in hedonistic, destructive excursions. Those empires and governments that allied with the Nobles began to turn on their neighbors, resulting in thousands of wars that claimed trillions of lives. The Emperor's Peace was as broken as one of the Walls of the Eternity Fortress.

[15]...and it was made worse by the sheer amount of war material, fleets, and out of work mercenaries that suddenly found themselves victorious in the Plague Wars of the last thousand years. The economic downturn caused by the instability, new valuable resources brought about by the Plague -- and many, many other factors all lead to what's being called the Empyreal Age of Piracy.

[1]Of course, the Herald of this new age and, according to some, its mastermind, the group that showed every pirate, mercenary, and Free Planet that the Empyre no longer held to the laws of its founding-- The Line of Sol.

[ZBridges]

It is truly sad to see the Empyre reduced to this lawless state.  This is not what we worked so hard to achieve.

Have any independent petty empires or nations survived in this part of the Rim?

[19_EgarAlnis]

[-]None of note. There's a few mentions of random stations, or the odd, isolated colony, but, for the most part, this part of the Rim seems desolate despite its proximity to Sol.

[1] You yawn, unsure of why that is. Something about Void shifts? And Galactic Ensarement? Whatever those mean. There's also something about the Planet Zero actually being close by. The science of the former goes over your uneducated head for the moment. You pick at a ration bar.

[ZBridges]

Unless other Ancestors have further things to suggest, get some sleep.

[Eschar]

Skim some details on the Planet Zero, then sleep.

[King Zultan]

That planet zero thing sounds intresting, lets loot it up, then sleep.

[19_EgarAlnis]

[3] Planet Zero was, keyword there, was the planet where the Plague became known to the broader Empyre. Destroyed in less than a day, and the planet itself consumed. That makes it hard to find, along with all the worlds that may or may not have been consumed similarly before the Emperor/Empress weakened the Plague. There apparently might be a memorial of some sort, to the soldiers that held out long enough to report the situation.

[VoidSlayer]

Oh yes, that was a sad time, even with spacial folding couldn't get there before it spread.

The path down memory lane is appreciated but you might want to focus on the here and now, conquer the planet and get yourself stronger.  You can worry about forging a new pirate empire later.

Also the key to creating anti-matter was actually quite simple.  Wish I could remember it!

Get some sleep, sweet dreams!

[Superdorf]

((Oh hey, VoidSlayer! Haven't seen you in-thread awhile. ))
((Fair warning, folks: I'm on vacation! My participation here may be spotty at times... internet's not great where I'm staying. I'll try and check in when I can-- is good to see the thread chugging along again!)
Antimatter... would you be so kind as to peruse your <archives> on the matter, [father/mentor, sculptor-- lit. "he who carves stone"]? You might find an old formula scrap or two.

Rest. You did good things today.

[King Zultan]

Time for sleep.

[19_EgarAlnis]

Sleep takes you quickly as the fatigue of the last day and a half catch up to you. Your eyes shut.


...you look out over your kingdom from one of the tremendous gleaming spires that rise from the planet's crust below. The stars shine down through the moonless night as hundreds of sleek ships cut through the Void. A great capital ship, as big as a small moon comes into view, hanging over your city.

Your Peerage has finally come for you. A Noble's Fleet hangs over your world.

You turn away, striding into your Palace as explosions of energy turn the night into day. Your children stand silently, looking to you for hope, for victory, for anything other than the destruction of your Rimward Kingdom...

But there is no hope. No chance at victory. Your mercenaries dead or released from their service. Your fleets lay shattered in another system. Your cities are being reduced to glass.

There is no hope. Not for you...


You do not awaken with a start or a flinch, too used to nightmares. Only a sigh escapes your lips as you awaken from the memories that are and are not your own. You check your time, and, judging by the light, six hours of sleep is all you need. You rise from your cot and join the Crusaders at the breakfast campfire.

[-]It is by your firm insistence alone that they treat you like another campmate. You and the Demonic arm walk into the forest to gather wood in the morning's early twilight. You emerge with piles of sticks and some well-sized logs, then take your breakfast of nutrient gruel with the rest. While sitting, you watch your Crusaders, trying to get a judge of their morale, but they don't relax around you, keeping themselves stiff and formal.

It is only when Nicole stumbles out of her tent and approaches do they seem to relax. She doesn't try to help, instead of snatching a bowl of food and muscling her way between two of the Crusaders for a better place by the fire. She nods to you when she sees you, her eyes finding the Armor that hovers menacingly at your shoulder.

"I would've shot that thing first chance I got." Nicole offers helpfully.

"It's strong. Stronger than even the colossi." You quietly respond, "I don't like it that much, either."

"Anything to win the war sooner, I guess." Nicole shrugs.

"...Mother...Mother Nicole?" One of the Crusaders lifts his hand. One of the younger ones, brand new, would judge by the recruit rank attached to his coat. Panic flashes through the eyes of the older, more experienced, and higher ranked Crusaders as they look at him. "...are...are we going to win?"

Mother Nicole looks surprised, then shocked, then disgusted. The Crusader Officer rises quickly and grabs the youth by the Armor. The Officer apologizes and pushes the younger man away with a "Latrine cleaning. Now."

"One moment, Child MacTyler." The officer freezes, still holding his charge by the arm. Nicole rises, moving to step in front of the young Crusader. "If we don't win -- we'll have nothing to worry over. Because we'll be dead. Your family. Dead. Your friends. Dead. Every last human life on this blessed planet will die if we do not win. Every. Single. One." She pauses, glancing at the sky. "What is the punishment for cowardice, Child MacTyler?"

The Officer hesitates before he speaks, "Execution at dawn."

Nicole nods, and, in one fluid motion, she draws her las-pistol and presses it into the offending Crusader's head. The Officer flinches, gritting his teeth. You start to rise, but -- she pulls the trigger.

Nothing happens besides the pistol clicking uselessly. The recruit slumps in the Officer's grip and Nicole leans forward, "I want you to remember this, recruit. I'm scarier than any Infected." She dips a nod to the Officer, reclaiming her seat. The other Crusaders find something to do, leaving you alone with your grandmother.

"Sleep well?" Nicole asks, nonplussed.

You give a small nod and reclaim your seat.

"Mmh. So that Cephie demon, is she trustworthy?"

"No."

"You two seem friendly."

"For now." You lie.

Nicole nods, finishing her meal. She pats you on the shoulder as she returns to her tent.

You do the same.


"Crusader Hovercraft, in sight!" A Crusader calls, and you rise, surprised to see one of the largest Hovercraft in your fleet descending to hover above the Valhal. Ramps drop down from the craft, and Pirates emerge from the broken void-ship. Voidmarines funnel the crowd into Hovercraft. It takes a solid hour, and you watch, content to simply sit amongst the trees and in the high grass. Eventually, the craft turns towards your position. With the camp broken down, it's a simple matter to load up the smaller crafts and lift into the sky to tail the larger ship.


The internal landing bay has been cleared, you note, to make room for the party. Your first expression leaves you awe-struck, jaw gaping. Half a dozen bars have been set up, with shelves filled with liquor and booze. [Vodka], [Rum], beers, bottles upon bottles of wine, and interesting barrels crudely labeled [kumis, lit milk wine]. Even before the pirates stream in, people are sitting at the bars and drifting near the dining tables. Beautiful men and women sit in clean and neat outfits, styles unseen since the destruction of SEED. But there are also shady types, in heavy coats, strategically placed -- no doubt Thornton drug peddlers there to supply uppers, downers or any other motley assortment of drugs that Silas and the Family have produced.

A massive row of tables sits in the middle of all this, filled to the brim with food. [Beast of Burden] legs, dripping with juices and seasoned with [rosemary] and [garlic], skins charred to a gorgeous brown. Cooked [poultry] with crispy skins -- and in the center of it all is a massive spit with smoldering, smoking logs, roasting a whole bug carcass. Chef Mary stands nearby with a wickedly sharp scimitar, quietly directing a number of her cooks this way and that. They bring out steaming plates of vegetables, potatoes, and elegant desserts. You grin when you notice Cephie's craft is the center of these cook's attention.

Interestingly, a single hovercraft still sits docked -- one of the merchant craft. You don't even have to look within to guess its purpose -- the outside has gauzes of cloth done in outlander style, and quite a few beautiful, well-dressed people lounge nearby. Fragrant smoke drifts from this lounge, as does the scent of perfume.

Thorton Warmachines stand guard at the main entryway, and when your ship docks, Emma emerges, all smiles. Without a word, she guides you through the guards,  directing you to your room. On your bed sits an elegant, stylish set of clothes -- all gleaming black silks, red belts, and golden jewelry. You nod as she steps out of the room, feeling a pang of regret. You shower, dress, and try to drag a comb through your hair. Then you get another when the teeth of the first break. Emma returns, quietly helping you tie your hair in a neat topknot. "First things first -- you have a speech to give to your people. It's not public, just over the broadcast system. The theme is mourning through revelry. Celebrate being alive."

"Mourning through revelry?"

"I distributed an excess supply of bug meat, [potatoes], and [Vodka] for the general population. I granted everyone who wanted to run a small stall a stipend to help us distribute and get rid of it. Our people are starting to celebrate, but the more zealous of our people want to keep mourning -- we cannot. This our life now. Celebrate being alive -- leave the regrets for the morning after."

You pause, then nod.

"It also covers our lavish little party for your Barons of Steel. That fanatic in the council chamber didn't want anything -- so tomorrow is a full day of service. Compromise." She guides you down the elevator after she finishes fussing with your hair, into a room with a microphone, an archaic sound system, and a single attendant. A red light is on, next to dim green light.

Panic tightens your chest at the thought of the speech.

Uh...help. Please.

[ZBridges]

I'm glad we have this opportunity, as the best way to conquer your fears is to face them.  Be thankful for the chance to improve.  As for the speech itself, mention the fallen, but also mention that we should celebrate their memory.  Make a toast, perhaps.  They would want us to be happy, after all, and enjoy this moment of respite after so, so much sacrifice.

[VoidSlayer]

You should spend some time practicing that speech, whatever it ends up at.  Maybe make up some stock ones too.  That intimidation and power of Nicole comes from long practice, but they are all a front, a mask she has learned to wear.  We all do.  You just have to get more comfortable in it.

I would tell you to enjoy yourself, but you are tied to that abomination of an armor now so I would suggest keeping it as far from the revelry as possible.

Hey out of curiosity, what form of antimatter are in those missiles.  With the right control you might be able to use it as a potent weapon without cracking the planet in half.

[King Zultan]

Can we not break the planet in half we need it to live on.

[Naturegirl1999]

I think we’ll need to come up with the words, Constantine is better at speech making than me

“This is the new normal, we are still alive, celebrating life puts us all in a better mood, a better mood will allow us to focus more on the future, rather than dwelling on what has already transpired”
((Improvements and additions welcome))