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(no subject) [May. 17th, 2007|01:47 am]
IC Announcements

thebrucolac
[Current Mood |tired]
[Current Music |Accelerate - Colony 5]

Readernote://Location: Mars
Readernote://Stardate (Kalahasi-Orion Common): 517//1064//2031
Readernote://Weather: Class-3, Storm
-----------

"The continued prosperity, no, the continued survival of the Kalahasi-Orion Corporation in this age of escalating danger relies not only on our ongoing and consistent technological evolution, but on the power of a strong business sense and an ever-increasing reliance on Machiavellian thinking."

Buffeted by the roaring wind and nearly occluded by the airborne dust that howls around it, a KO-MS torchship descends from the low orbit refineries on a pure blue pillar of fusion flame. Its matte gray outline shimmers and shifts with the roiling energies of its class-8 containment/interdiction fields as rust-red soil blasts away from it's landing site at the KO-D's Mars Surface Assembly Plant. Blast doors cycle shut over it as it sinks into the ground, the landing site voiding to a temporary vacuum state to clear the sand and rock before unloading begins.

Red grit rasps harshly over the low-lying bunkers of the plant, piling up on the windward sides and spilling over them, turning them into little more than another dune in the blasted, rock-strewn terrain. Spotlights slam on, fighting half-heartedly to carve through the constant sandstorm to illuminate parts of the facility. With a audible hum, containment domes shimmer up over the launch and landing elevators, then over the entire facility. The energy fields crackle as the static electricity from the storm arcs against it ineffectually.

The Mars Surface Assembly Plant has received activation orders.
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The Battle For Uculyces: The Bitter Aftermath [Jul. 19th, 2004|12:40 am]
IC Announcements
dant_194
[Current Mood |depressed]
[Current Music |Beatles - Norwegian Wood]

The battle was all but over. The hulks of over one hundred and fifty ships of the wall lay scattered throughout the combat zone, their lifeless forms providing cover for the few remaining loyalist craft still fighting. A flight of Razor fighter/bombers scream by, a red flag emblazoned on their sides. The craft roll in perfect unison and each fire several plasma torpedoes. Their target, a loyalist frigate shudders as the projectiles burn through layers of armoured plating and detonate. A lucky shot ruptures the ships reactor in a massive explosion that travels up the length of the ship, shattering it into billions of pieces. The flight of fighters swoop through the debris cloud, intent on their next target.

The Vice Admiral was dead. A shot in the second salvo had hit the flagship dead on. The pale green naval lance had burned straight through the ships bridge, vaporizing the men and women inside instantly. The atmosphere leak had been sealed as quickly as possible but that hadn't stopped members of the 208th Marines from cutting their way in through that very spot a short while later. After a short but brutal firefight the rebels managed to fight their way to the secondary bridge, intent on taking the ship out of action. Acting Vice Admiral Donavone had ordered the ships reactor overloaded rather than have it fall to the mutineers. The explosion had been spectacular as the loyalist flagship suddenly became a giant ball of flame and shrapnel.

Admiral Mardath watches the mopping up of the loyalist forces without passion or enthusiasm. Though other ranking members of the rebellion were celebrating their victory against the loyalist forces the Admiral realised the truth. They hadn't truly won here. Men had died. Men on both sides. Men loyal to their cause, whatever it may have been. Others talked of glorious and meaningfull deaths. To Mardath it didn't matter. Dead was dead. It didn't matter how they had died. And he had ordered it. He had ordered the deaths of over ten thousand men who should not have been fighting this war. They had won this battle indeed but it was no victory. A war such as this could have no victor. Mardath thought coldly over this fact. Like this battle there could be no victor but he would damn well insure that they would win. He turns to his subordinates.

"Finish cleaning up the remaining loyalists. Then rally the fleet. Within two days I want us sitting on the High Admirals doorstep. See to it." He watches as the men scramble away to their appointed tasks and mutters under his breath, "And may the gods forgive us all."
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"Ph34r t3h cute 1s" -- Part 3 [Jul. 10th, 2004|06:44 pm]
IC Announcements

thebrucolac
[Current Mood |awake]
[Current Music |Digitally Imported IRadio]

[Here's part 3 of "Ph34r t3h cute 1s". Enjoy!

-- The Brucolac]

Readernote://Location: Darquin Prime
Readernote://Stardate (Kalahasi-Orion Common): 610//1061//1846
Readernote://Weather: Class-2, Storm
-----------

"We have to do it NOW, lieutenant!"

-=-=-

"Ladies and gentlemen." *The Drislogan tech looks tired and discouraged.* "After yet another four of the so-called Cute Ones disappeared, leaving the research lab they were housed in in ruins, we have had no choice but to abandon the project.

LCC Clan Law, despite our petitions, requires that we do not destroy these... prototypes... as they are living beings and cannot be considered dangerous without provocation. Thus, we have released all one hundred ninety that we had left in storage. We can hope that they will form an... enclave... and learn to live with each other as well as other races.

Please remember that these beings are to be considered human and not alien. They are merely augmented humans. They deserve the respect and help of any other human. Their violence response systems tend to respond to gunfire anywhere nearby them. We have destroyed all control devices we had over them, and we attempted to erase their AI, but it had built its own defense measures that were stronger then our attacks.

May God help us all.

Drislogan High Command out."

*The message goes to the transmission complete sequence, reflecting in the eyes of the apparent leader of the Cute Ones. The glow from the screen is the only light in the room.

Her smile is very white.*
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Raptors Revolt Part II [Jul. 7th, 2004|11:41 pm]
IC Announcements
dant_194
[Current Mood |mellow]
[Current Music |Godspeed You Black Emporer- Static]

High Admiral Ward looks sadly on as well over a three hundred ships of the
wall exit realspace, en route to the Mutineers stronghold of Uculyces. He
simply wished it hadn't come down to this but those traitors had forced his
hand. He'd been ready and even willing to negotiate. Right up to the point
he'd been informed that the mutineers had been straight up executing officers
for no reason. How could they possibly claim such things as justice and an end
to coruption when they themselves were propogating it.
And this was the reason he had ordered one of the largest Confederate fleet
massings in history.

On the bridge of the newly appointed flagship of the loyalist fleet Vice
Admiral Turner speaks to the fleet, his voice echoing in the hulls of every
vessel.

"We have a task. A task important to this great Confederacy we have all worked
towards. A task that will demand every ounce of loyalty, devotion and strength
you can muster and then more some. This is because our task is to destroy
those unloyal to our cause. Some may hesitate, remembering those you once
fought aside and called brother, yet remember that these are no longer the
same men! These are not the loyal Confederate soldiers they once were, they
are traitors! And as such deserve to be shot down like the dogs they are! Hear
me loyal soldiers! On this day we cannot fail in our appointed task! The very
future of this great Confederacy depends on our actions! So onward brothers!
For Freedom!"

The very hulls of the ships seem to shake as every member of the fleet, down
to the lowliest tech responds to the time honoured Confederate battlecry.

"For victory!"
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Ph34r t3h Cute 1s -- Public Service Announcement. [Jul. 7th, 2004|05:39 pm]
IC Announcements

thebrucolac
[Current Mood |curious]
[Current Music |Final Fantasy III - Snowfield Theme (Orchestrated)]

"Godspit! What are we going to do? Lieutenant!"
"Sir, I..."
"...How are we supposed to stop this! We don't have the resources--"
"Sir, excuse me... But... We have some problems."

-=-=-

A priority 1 widebeam broadcast snaps in from the High Command of the Drislogan War Machine, It is passed on by first the Ixian Military relays, then the KO-D. It is obviously important.

The image is encoded, but live. An incredible use of energy. It is of a single Drislogan technician. The man looks nervious. A still image is up in the top-right corner of the screen.

"Ladies, gentlemen, we have a serious problem. Most of you may not be aware, the first two of our newest line of biotests have escaped. Although we are working with the NR to track them down, we do encourage you to stay clear of them at all cost.

This is not the matter that I am contacting you about, today, however. The man pictured with this transmission is responsable for the kidnapping of a further two biotests, due to a security flaw he apparently discovered. We do have safety measures in place that should prevent the use of these biotests of harmful activities, however, we cannot guarantee this. The Drislogan will be doing their best to track down these individuals and not only bring them to justice, but to make sure that no harm befalls the civilian population.

We advise you to take all precautions you can. This beings are very unstable and dangerous.

Drislogan High Command, out."
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"Ph34r t3h cute 1s" -- Part 2 [Jul. 5th, 2004|06:01 pm]
IC Announcements

thebrucolac
[Current Mood |thoughtful]
[Current Music |Koji Kondo - Legend of Zelda Medley]

[Here's part 2 of "Ph34r t3h cute 1s". Enjoy!

-- The Brucolac]

Readernote://Location: Darquin Prime
Readernote://Stardate (Kalahasi-Orion Common): 603//1061//1526
Readernote://Weather: Class-5, Storm
-----------

"Sentry unit oh-four-nine-seven, report."
"Something feels wrong, lieutenant..."
"Sentry unit oh-four-nine-seven, do you read?"
"...Something is wrong..."
"Sentry unit oh-four-nine-seven, respond please."
"...Something is very wrong."

Small bursts of wind and driving rain gust against the black, brooding cliffs and the withdrawn bastions carved from the living granite, and pock the surface of the drab, heaving oceans far below. The dark, wet rocks gleam faintly in the small amount of light that beats its way through the sullen, grey skies of Darquin Prime. Day has come, but lights still glimmer golden and soft through frosted glass windows. There is very little difference between night and day to the residents of this planet.

A small 2 person vehicle, looking much like a old-earth Jeep, shoulders its way through the twisted, tortured mountain passes and flooded low roads, its engine purring quietly, all four of its halogen headlights, which perch above its mud-encrusted front fender, cutting through the mists and rain. Its tail-lights cast a crimson glow behind it as its windshield wipers fight to keep up with the rains. Dirty water and mud gush up over the rims of its wheel-wells as it rounds a turn in the lowlands. The two occupants of the vehicle have seen very little traffic, and that they have seen has all been going the other way.

The Jeep half slides around a flooded turn, splashing muddy water up in an arc. Its wheels spin for a second, then regain traction and pull it free from the treacherous ground. Half an hour later, the vehicle can be found several hundred feet above the almost constantly flooded lowlands, climbing the switchbacks into the so-called "Dour" mountain range. Today, the name is more then fitting, considering the bleak rocks, trees bare and dripping, leafless and skeletal from a forest fire. The four cones of light from the headlights of the Jeep are quite visible in the rain and fog.

After at least another hour of driving, the vehicle slowly pulls to the side, having just been passed by another Drislogan military transport truck going the other way. The driver-side door opens a crack cautiously, then swings wider as a young woman steps out, pulling the hood of her raincoat up over her head to protect herself. Her amber eyes are alert below the brim of the hood. She walks to the opposite edge of the road and withdraws a pair of night vision binoclears out of her jacket, lifting them to her eyes and scanning the terrain. A man, who stepped from the passenger side of the Jeep slowly crosses the road over to her, dressed the same way she is. He stares out, then gently touches her shoulder. She lowers the goggles slowly and glaces over at him, then walks back to the car. After a moment more of looking out over the land far below, he follows.
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(no subject) [Jul. 3rd, 2004|01:59 pm]
IC Announcements
seantmw2g
-So much has happened to this area of the galaxy since the collapse of the United Forces, and time later, the Rebel Legion. Many groups have risen like the sun to show their superiority, and like the sun as well have collapsed by the end of the day. After so much unsettled time, nobody knew who or what to trust anymore; until now. The CobraTech Corporation has stepped in, turning any former rebel faction into a part of its Defense Force. Peace and stability has finally returned to this area, or at least that is what is believed. Few notice that many of the soldiers are beginning to look very similar, and more and more people are taking up office space in buildings. Few notice the fact that the Defense Force has switched to clones, and that this army could threaten the very peace that the corporation brought about...-
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The ULF prepares for war... [Jul. 2nd, 2004|08:52 pm]
IC Announcements

tetrahedrex
A great orb, known to a few select Starforce personnel as Gobi, rotates slowly, one side fading into darkness, the other coming into the light...

On the surface, billions of particles of dust blow about in the seasonal dust storms. There are no signs of human life, but thousands of machines are strewn over the land, engaged in tearing various metals from the barren surface.

2 miles beneath a large mountain range, in a place built to withstand a direct 100-megaton H-Bomb attack (and much more), is a giant, circular chamber lined with hundreds of rooms, connected by walkways. In the center space of the cavern are thousands upon thousands of coffin-like transparent tubes. Inside can be seen human... or perhaps, not so human, fetuses. Under the sophisticated biological systems and nanobiological assemblers, a fully-grown creature can be created in 30 days. Around the central chamber, the Nephilim are trained, taught, equipped, and taken care of. No two are exactly alike, but they all bear an uncanny similarity.

In one of these chambers, a scientist studies a new device soon to be put into mass-production. It has only a few details lacking, but when it is finished, it will allow Nephilim and Men to plug directly into their mechs, tanks, and aircraft, letting them operate the machines as extensions of their bodies. This will give them much better control and better reflexes.

A gigantic cargo ship, purportedly carrying ores from the planet Gobi, docks with Starforce Command. There, the valuable cargo it carries will be assigned to various ships, tanks, mechs, aircraft, and other various units.

Meanwhile, in orbit around the planet of Toltia, production of warships has nearly doubled. Drones constantly warp in, carrying asteroids from several different belts. The ore is taken from these rocks, which are then placed back in their asteroid belts. Within an immense construction--several miles in all dimensions--ships are constructed and refitted with new weapons. Pieces are taken from giant nanomachine factories and attached to each other by robots designed by the Toltians--arguably the best engineers in the Galaxy.

The ULF is possibly facing the greatest assemblage of threats that it has ever met in its short history...
It is time to create the Second Starfleet...
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"Ph34r t3h cute 1s" [Jul. 2nd, 2004|06:25 pm]
IC Announcements

thebrucolac
[Current Mood |mischievous]
[Current Music |Covenant - We Stand Alone]

[Yes folks, this will have a bearing on ICs to come. Enjoy!

-- The Brucolac]

Readernote://Location: Darquin Prime
Readernote://Stardate (Kalahasi-Orion Common): 602//1061//1802
Readernote://Weather: Class-5, Storm
-----------

"Sentry unit oh-four-nine-seven, report."
"This is sentry unit oh-four-nine-seven."
"Passage?"
"1 civ, 4 Drislogan Military."
"Clear. Command out."

Rain slashes down, beating heavily on the roofs and windows of the small outpost in the mountains, the lonely guardian of a mountain pass. Light comes through the thick, frosted glass of its as always, even though nobody is on duty there at the moment -- nor will anybody be on duty there for the next 3 months, until winter is out. A lone sentry sits at the tall, chain-link-topped-by-concertina-wire gate, its drab frame indentifiable only by the faint green gleam of its status lights.

The rain splases in the wheel ruts from the small Drislogan Military convoy that passed, carrying supplies to their mountain-top bastion. Water drips off of the black rock and pale lichen, and falls from the gaunt branches of dead pinetrees. Servos hum quietly in the sentry as a 2-person, jeep-like vehicle pulls up to the gate, windshield wipers throwing the water off of it in large splashes. Its halogen headlights cut through the rain and fog, casting hard shadows of chain-link onto the ground past the gate.

The sentry robot slowly shifts to a standing position and walks forward, into the headlights. It is matte black, reflecting only because of the rainwater slucing down it, except for the white numbers and letters on its right "bicep", which read "Sentry 0497". It stands expectantly, waiting for the two occupants to step out and identify themselves. It makes no move, nor does it speak any word, as the driver steps out, wrapped in a rain poncho. The driver steps up to the gate, water dripping from her straw-colored bangs, and hands a small book through to the sentry. Her identification papers.

A few minutes later the jeep rolls forward through the gate, its tail-lights casting a blood-red glow behind it as its weight presses down into the wet ground, the vehicle's suspension groaning as it bumps over the larger stones in the gravel and the remains of the sentry robot, which still smokes from the plasma bolts that not only blew it apart, but tore a hole in the chain-link of the gate. The sound of the jeep's engine is quickly lost in the night.
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The Confederate Mutiny (a.k.a Raptors Revolt) [Jul. 2nd, 2004|12:33 am]
IC Announcements
dant_194
(This occurs approximately a week before Sebbe's announcement about the Fifth Column. Not our time of course but IC time. In case it isn't obvious this deals with a major mutiny within the Confederate fleet. This -will- impact you if you deal with the Confederacy.)

*Floating deep within Confederate space the ASN flagship
Cortanzes' Revenge is the site of an intense battle. Tracer
fire rips down walkways as marines advance from cover to cover.
Both sides seem to be wearing the uniform of the Confederate
Marine Corp, one side however has a red band with a screaming
bird of prey tied to their forearms. This is the side that
seems to be winning*

*The marines race toward the bridge of the ship, firing as
they move. A grizzled veteran in the front seems to be leading
them. After one last bloody firefight the men spill into the
bridge. The last man in turns and slams his fist onto the pad
controlling the blastdoors. Several of the bridge officers
attempt to go for their sidearms. They are promptly shot. The
remainder continue about their business as if nothing was
happening*

*As the veteran turns to address his men the flashes on his
shoulder clearly indicate his rank as a sergeant.*
"Alright boys, we've taken the ship. Conner and the boys with
the Northern Fringe patrol are with us too. They took down the
loyalists on their craft about an hour ago. This ain't over yet
though. They're gonna come at us and they're gonna come hard
and fast."

*The men salute and scramble away to their appointed tasks. The sergeant
moves and sits in the command chair vacated by the captain
who'd been killed by him personally within the first five
minutes of combat. He sighs and slowly rubs the control panels
situated around him with an air of familiarity that seems out
of place for a simple sergeant.*

*He straightens up and attaches a captains insignia between his
previous stripes and the red armband.*
"Rielly, give me a broadcast as wide as possible. I want every
damn person in the fleet to hear what I'm gonna say."
*The comm operator nods and hits a few switches.*

*The man draws breath and begins to speak.*
"Greetings, I am Captain Mardath of the Confederate Fleet. And
I tell you truly, I'm not here to speak to you as an officer but
as a brother. To put it simply I am here because the fleet is
on its way to destruction. Corrupt officers, lack of pay. And
now they tell us we will be fighting along side enemies!"

"I for one will not stand for it any longer. Even as we speak
this ship will no longer fight under the command of the High
Admiral until we are satisfied. And we are not alone! Not all
are content to be passively lead to their dooms."

"Call us not traitors. We love out nation as much as any of
you. We are not proposing to leave our grand Confederacy
undefended. We are simply stating that until such time as we
are satisfied we will not leave Confederate space."

"In truth my friends we are more loyal than those not with us.
Loyal to the men and women behind the grand officers. How shall
you react to this moment of truth? Be assured that if you are
not with us than those in command will see to it you are
against us."

"I only ask that you not hesitate to pull the trigger as
neither will we. We are soldiers, everyone and all must do
their job. Brothers we will remain, no hatred gained or lost by
either side."
"And so I ask you to join us in our crusade of justice. Thank
you and farewell."
*The comm flicks off*

*Captain Mardath watches sadly as a small craft paints a solid
red block over the flag of the Confederacy he loved. There is
no turning back now. Either they will all die or his ship would
never be forced to fire a shot. He turns as he hears a cough
behind him.*

"Sir, we've received signals from over a third of the fleet.
They're with us sir. And sir? There are Raptors in command sir."

*Mardath sighs and shakes his head*
"Thank you Rielly. And so it begins. It begins."
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