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Sunday, 28th January, 2007, 06:45 AM #1
Acolyte (Lvl 2)
Eschton [mature] IC - Calling Arabesu
A new era dawns in the trinary Ixylyr-Alaeon-Otajan star system.
The Eschaton is timeless. Most of the entities living within the trillions of worlds comprising it on countless dimensions experience the forward progression of events. Yet all possible futures and 'possible pasts' are known to those who have Ascended. Citizens and many Autarchs can arrange to travel in the vastness of time itself. Many diverse futures spring from the present. But it is known for a fact that great changes are coming, that the coming days shall be a time of fruition, and great turmoil.
In recent years, more than half of the planets in the great star system have come under the control of new Citizens. Yet more have just, or are about to complete, the process of terraforming. And on the fifth planet orbiting Otajan, a planet thought unsuitable for terra-reformation, something remarkable has occurred. Another Otajan 5 from a different dimension has been shifted by some titanic magic to replace the dead world.
The Eschaton-wide psionic network known as the Psi-web allows Citizens, and all Autarchs that have not been blocked from it, to mindlink with practically anyone effortlessly. Through this world-spanning power, beings of various descriptions have queued up to contact each of you ...
OOC - Individual intro stuff to come soon, but feel free to set the local scene
Last edited by Voidrazor; Saturday, 25th October, 2008 at 09:38 PM.My Games
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Sunday, 28th January, 2007, 03:34 PM #2
Acolyte (Lvl 2)
It was always dark in the depths, heavy veils of fog drifting in the crushing pressure of a too-vast heaven, but this new universe, this new sun still felt different. Different heat, different gravity, and most of all (though all differences were slight) a different radiation was causing some discomfort for the more sensitive inhabitants of what had once been, and now is again Otajan 5. "Some discomfort" had not long ago been utter panic and anarchy for those volatile races. The Gshaa were always so prone to dramatics... Melanoce sighed, or would have sighed if she was a human, actually she only twitched her dorsal fin slightly while moving her tongue just so, but the meaning was the same. Politics were such a tedious distraction from what really mattered.
Her business had suffered lately, from the disorder at home as well as certain changes abroad, and it was no longer wise to speculate in the papers of the Core Worlds. She posessed other ways to make a profit, certainly, but speculation in the business of others was so much more comfortable than conducting business yourself. Politics again... Politicians and burocrats, such scum. And now she had become one herself. Ah, well, she fidgeted while berating herself for her self-pity, there's nothing to be done about that now. And there are still opportunities to be exploited if only certain complications could be dealt with.
She knew little enough about her new immediate neigbours, and that was a weakness for which she could only blame herself, but it was time to rectify that now. Their ambitions, political, social, financial and especially military, would directly affect her own security and could be useful levers if harnessed correctly. Surely there were mutual interests to protect, codependencies to construst and complimentary weaknesses and strengths to synergize. She ponders briefly, then acts.
Sunday, 28th January, 2007, 08:05 PM #3
Magsman (Lvl 14)
There were no mild terms that could be applied to the Palace of Summer. Long before it had held that name, it had been designed so that only superlatives came to mind on seeing it. It was the -most- beautiful, the -most- awesome, the most intimidating, the tallest, the proudest... Legends ancient when most races were young told that a great sky-climbing tree had been planted in the palace's foundation...and that as the tree grew, the palace was built in it, and around it, and through it. The work of centuries. And this was certainly how it seemed to have been done, for the tree's mighty branches supported wings and annexes. Struts and buttresses of gilded marble held questing tendrils of wood aloft. Windows peeked out of burls and knots. And above it all rose the great Spire, the tower that the tree itself spiraled up around like an unspeakably vast tentacle of ivy. Made of radiant lathenum, a semi-translucent stone that sparkled with multicolored highlights, and each block of stone in an orichalcum molding, on a clear bright day the Spire could be seen for miles, with only the rolling horizon finally blotting it from sight.
On the tip of the Spire, as far above the ground as the ocean floor was below, there was a sitting room, with a balcony. And on the balcony was a solitary figure; the only one routinely allowed to go so high. She had many titles. She was The Sigil, The Queen of Summer, Queen-Protector of Kaydia, most commonly. Once she had been human, and mortal. Now she was neither, and her mortal name was forgotten even to her. On rising to Citizenship, she had learned much...not only of the world she had inherited, Kaydia...but of the countless worlds beyond. The truth seared her now as it always had. Beautiful Kaydia, proud Kaydia...the world she loved with all of her heart, and had sacrificed so much to make free...was a pinpoint; a tiny dot in the sky. So long closed off from other worlds that it had been all but forgotten by all but the most conscientious of mappers. And more, it was fearfully backwards...living in an age of superstition and ignorance that most worlds had shed millenia ago. Only in the field of magic was it even close to par, and even that had suffered with no trade, no flow and exchange of ideas.
The Sigil was spending this rare moment bereft of glamour, shorn of the magic she used to assume queenly regalia. The fey spirits she had inherited mastery over were chaotic beings, subject to their whims. Asserting rulership meant regular displays of power and grandeur. For all their immortality, the fey were at their hearts childlike and easily impressed. They loved spectacle, and as Queen, she was obliged to provide it whenever she appeared in public. She didn't mind. It was fun...if a bit hollow at times.
The years had changed her, as had her embrace of that which was fey within her. A blue-green tinge marked her flawless skin, and her eyes had assumed a hue like that of expertly cut emeralds; a green more intense than any human eye could achieve. Her ears came to graceful points, though they did not stick out, and were not of ridiculous length, as was the case with many fey. She was clad in a simple silk gown of midnight blue that clung to her shape without being shamelessly revealing. She was, of course, quite beautiful, if a bit alien, and distant of demeanor though that was a conceit she reserved for these quiet moments alone...alone with her thoughts.
Sigil realized that the paranoid former Queen of Winter had struck Kaydia a blow that went far beyond centuries of oppression and rule by fear. Uninterested in competing with other worlds at first...and later succuming to abject fear that those other worlds would one day invade, the Solstice, the Bitter Queen had seen to it that all her formidable power was bent to isolating Kaydia.
Was it too late now to undo the damage?
Monday, 29th January, 2007, 07:00 AM #4
Waghalter (Lvl 7)
Her eyes snapped open abruptly.
God how I hated having to be reintergrated. How much of myself lost to the winds of the cosmos this time. I know who I am...that was something at least. But there was denfinitely something missing - and what had I been doing on the Markotian homeworld? They were such a twitchy species - but who was I then? What vast tracks of experience have I lost?
Serraphina DeLecort slowly sat up in the recon chamber, the familiar sites around her bringing a flood of welcomed memories. Without a thought she reached behind her ear, activating her sub-com. "Jenner set out the red, we're going out tonight. It seems like it's been weeks since I've been back on the town." - "Of course miss, and it has been." Standing up from the tub, she strides from the antichamber once again completely confident in her purpose and form. Jenner's mearest touch would have ignited lesser materials, as a being of fire, but serraphina's taste was quite pragmatic. The fearsomeness of her presence reaserting itself on the universe, she dressed in her understated finery while Jenner updates her on the looming trouble at the edges of the galaxy. "...Yes we'll have to save the universe again, but not tonight as far as I can tell. you old djinn you." Walking out of the suite, the barest edges of a smile touch her lips at the thought of a new adventure. "But it could have something to do with the recent ... unpleasantness miss." - Of course! If you even hiccup loudly the Markot jump three feet. Something cosmic could be pushing them right over the edge ... they'll of course owe me for their assumption.
The Illuminated metropolis of Tarnha beamed like a jewel in the crown of Tran'sa 'Kuul, planet of night. With the sun only showing on it every fourth day, Tran'sa 'Kuul was never a center of agrarian development. But the mines flow and the clubs know no end. The people are strong and fierce and beautiful, with a hunger for the light. It's transparasteel high-rises of downtown, like uniformed spears of brilliant stars stabbing into the heavens. The roads were happily full of eager party-seekers, and it was serraday night. The scene would be mobbed, but thats the way she likes it.
Stepping from the transport in her maroon leather chained pants, she was met by a cheers and applause. Her people adored her and thats what she liked most about them. The pulse of the music drew her into the establishment with promises of adreniline and sweat - just what she needed after dying yesterday. The bouncers, standing nearly a foot taller than her, eyed her laciviously as she strode past them. Her horns shining in the multi-hololights as she wound her way through the insane asylum of writhing bodies, with smile widening to show her fangs.
Monday, 29th January, 2007, 08:46 AM #5
Acolyte (Lvl 2)
Monday, 29th January, 2007, 09:59 AM #6
Acolyte (Lvl 2)
As Sigil ponders the future of her realm, that feeling in her mind, neither a tickle nor a buzz but reminiscent of both, builds in strength once again. Mere hours after ascending to the throne of faerie the telepathic calls began. Alien minds making offers, the consequences of which could scarcely be guessed at. There was no dearth of beings promising wonders to help bring Kaydia 'into the Eschaton' but could they be trusted? Living among the fey quickly taught one to be wary of gifts.Originally Posted by Shayuri
Before once again braving the bewilderment of the Psi-web, Sigil spies Periwinkle flying up to her in haste from battlements along a great branch below. “Begging your grace's pardon for the intrusion. You asked to be informed if anyone reported abductions like those that happened under the Twilight Queen. There's a redcap below claiming to have witnessed just that. Normally, I'd as soon swallow an iron penny than take the word of an unseelie. But for certain, something's got him agitated. And, by Titania, I think he may be telling the truth.”
Monday, 29th January, 2007, 04:24 PM #7
Acolyte (Lvl 2)
Last edited by Nephtys; Monday, 29th January, 2007 at 05:03 PM.
Tuesday, 30th January, 2007, 05:17 AM #8
Onboard the vessel known only as Slavemaker came the sounds of steel ringing as it hit steel and grunts and groans. The scent of blood and sweat permeated the air. In the massive arena that took up most of the space on the ship stood one man surrounded by three hulking green-skinned brutes and five winged beauties that (as one man schooled in the classical arts once put it) looked like the Greek Furies themselves were put to shame.
The man that they surrounded, however, looked like Adonis himself personified. Clad in an ornately designed silk shirt that opened at the front that accentuated his herculean physique, he tenses as he begins his attack.
He dodges the blows that come at him from all sides. Parrying the flailing claws of one of the brutes, he slips under the guard of one of the winged women and slashes her thigh with a fine-edged curved dagger that seemed to move like a blur to the naked eye.
To be continued...
Last edited by Avalon®; Tuesday, 30th January, 2007 at 02:58 PM.
Tuesday, 30th January, 2007, 05:53 AM #9
Magsman (Lvl 14)
Sigil stiffens slightly. Redcaps. Murderous little goblinish creatures. The red of their caps was blood, classically. And yet, they were hers now too. The courts on Kaydia did not have separate rulers. And she had sworn not to walk the road of Winter, favoring one court outrageously over the other. And this was really a positive sign. One of the unseelie actually -doing- as she'd asked. It was to be encouraged.Originally Posted by Voidrazor
She glanced at Periwinkle and nodded with a gentle smile. "Thank you for the news. I will meet the redcap in five minutes in the Great Hall, and hear his testimony."
With that, she picked a black feathered mask from one of the tables in the sitting room, and placed it over her face. Golden sparks engulfed her...and left her transformed when they cleared. The modest, simple prettiness was gone, replaced by shining robes of gold and platinum threads that fell over her suddenly improbably gorgeous figure like waves of liquid metal. Golden spokes rose up in an arc behind her, like the rays of the setting sun, or a peacock's tail, and an impossibly elaborate headdress of gems and silver wire framed features too perfect to be real. The point of courtly glamour wasn't to be -realistic-. Everyone knew it was magic. The point was to be -impressive-. The ultimate statement of style over substance.
From there she took up a length of flat charcoal grey cloth from a hanging hook and draped it over her shoulders. The illusion around her wavered and absorbed the Shroud as she donned it. Never one to attend even the least of audiences without the full regalia, she.
Finally her feet, now invisible under the glorious glamor, lifted off the floor....and she vanished in a puff of sparks. The audience chamber of the Great Hall was only a few such hops away, and by the time the redcap entered, she was ready, hovering above the grand throne, with great balefire torches blazing on either wall, encompassing the room, and her with light.
"Enter and speak," she bade the redcap. "What news have you?"
Tuesday, 30th January, 2007, 10:59 AM #10
Acolyte (Lvl 2)
As the music washes over Serraphina her sub-com pulses with subtle urgency. Much of the point of the device was to make the constant requests for contact via the psi-web less annoying, filtering out the chaff and signaling in as low key a manor as possible. For it pulse in this fashion, the sender had to be had to have a high level inherent priority, not an easy thing to come by. The ID is Inquisitor Qebehsenuef. This had to be something big. There was one inquisitor for perhaps every thousand worlds, and Qebehsenuef was one of the first, sired by the Lord High Inquisitor Quillian Bliss, charged with the task of eliminating threats with the potential of destroying souls on a planetary or greater level. They themselves were essentially vampiric gods, though their actions were tightly controlled by Committees.Originally Posted by Vertexx69
Just then, a T’lkt’n speaker-drone flies over the crowd to hover in front of Serraphina's face. The roach-like bioengineered insect vibrates its abdomen creating a noise that perfectly emulates spoken word, doubtless psionically guided in its movements by T’lkt’n hive queen. “A fortunate coincidence running into you here Citizen. I need to warn you about the Faransi slander you will no doubt hear in the coming days.”