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3.5E - Shattered Suns [RP]


Krefarus
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SHATTERED SUNS
Year 10.421 AE

The light of dusk fades away.
====-----<<>>-----====
“They’re closing in around us now. The transports are gone, broken as they tried to escape. I know you will never hear this, but I love you, my darling wife. I curse the day I left you, and I curse this day that I must leave you forever. They’re at the bunker doors. The screams get ever louder. We are going to die in this forsaken place.  How I wish I had never set foot on Buath. How I wish I could go ho- [TRANSMISSION ENDED]”

                                                             -The last recorded transmission from the surface of Buath.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
Events


THE SIEGE OF NAHKI
“Am I not generous, San’var?” “Without equal, my Lord.”

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[Atuan Infantry advance under fire on C.R.A positions]

Far to the west, The Heavenly Kingdom of Atu-an continues its divinely-ordained war against the Colonial Reorganization Authority. In space, the Colonial Navy has been sent into a full rout, forced to abandon the void above the former Colonial capital of Nahki. As the banners of Heaven itself march upon the system, much of the remaining Colonial government flees north into more secure space - leaving the planet’s garrison to hold the world alone.

News from the former Colonies suggests that the Atuans have made great progress, having accepted the surrender of several of the largest colonial formations on the planet. The last of Nahki’s resistance is centered around the expansive mega-city of Mo’an-tal, where the remaining Colonial armies have dug in heavily.

BLESSED IS THE LINE OF THE EMPEROR RUR-VAI

===----<>----===


THE COMING OF AN HEIR
“Do not delay, Admiral, for we have little time to lose.”

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[The Starcast Throne, in the Imperial Observatory.]

 

From the furthest reaches of civilized space comes a message which slowly but surely filters through to every remaining psykic in the galaxy,

 

 “An heir proclaims himself.” 

 

The man in question is the Lord Taera, a matriarchal second cousin of the late Emperor Rän-ji. Stationed in the Outer Rim during the Civil War, Taera’s fleets were unable to reach Loyalist lines before Erasmis’ invasion had already penetrated to the core. Since then, they have been wedged between their two foes, only barely scrounging by. 

 

With this announcement is a call to aid directed to the Loyalist south, and a plea to the Republic requesting safe passage south - how the Republic will respond to such a request remains to be seen.

===----<>----===
 

THE PIRATE KING
“Let them despair!”

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[The destruction of the ERTCV Sifter against Aokigahara’s fleet]

Chaos continues to engulf the galaxy, and the illustrious Pirate King runs forever rampant among the Eastern Galaxy’s trade routes. 10,421 proves to be an eventful year for Aokigahara’s fleet, though, as the Horseman, Aokigahara’s flagship aswell as its supporting vessels fall upon an ERTC Treasure Fleet returning from the Far Rim. Unknowingly having walked into a pirate ambush, the ERTC escorts were quickly picked apart and destroyed, with the primary escort, ERTCV Sifter, being destroyed in the opening stages of the battle.

The entire contents of the ERTC convoy has apparently since been destroyed or otherwise lost to the pirates.

Aokigahara’s marauding continues to burn east through Loyalist space.
===----<>----===

GATHERING CLOUDS
“500 credits per shipment? What do the Barons need 400 credits for! 300 credits is unbelievable! The Westerners don’t have the gall to ask for 200 credits for fuel..”

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[The Republic Senate]

As another set of terms comes to an end, the clouds of the Republican Senate begin to gather as a host of interests prepare to compete for the trio of newly vacant positions: Tanu Kavan, Kavan Te, and Kavan He-ai and upset the long established rule of the hugely popular Grand Admiral Pepe. While the various factions of the Senate return to their constant scheming, trouble brews on the Republic’s horizon..

The Oil Barons continue to hold the Republic at their mercy through their near total domination of the Outer Rim’s fuel reserves, many within the Senate cry for a response. Indeed, the idea would be attractive to many more if the Republic’s finances were not almost completely sustained by ERTC and Universal loans, huge partners of the Oil Barons.

Further still, reports filter in from the border of Admiral Akamu’s efforts to refurbish and salvage Civil War naval vessels en masse, a development which has many of the provincial governors on edge.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________

 "Ran-ji lies dead. Man is scattered. The Empire burns. Those who remain shall burn with it.."

Edited by Krefarus
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TREATY of ALAMAR

F2rQTHK.png

 

WHILE THE GREAT HOUSES STAND, SO STANDS THE EMPIRE

 

LET THOSE WHO READ THIS PROCLAMATION KNOW OUR UNYIELDING INTENT. WE, THE NOBLE HOUSES OF MAN, FIGHT TOGETHER.

 

WHAT FOLLOWS IS THE NEW EMPIRE THAT WILL COME OF OUR CERTAIN VICTORY. UNTIL SUCH TIME AS ORDER IS RESTORED ON KAUMAI, THE FOLLOWING EMERGENCY MEASURES ARE IN PLACE:

 

I. ALL CAPITAL SHIP RESTRICTIONS HAVE BEEN WAIVED.

II. THE PROVISIONAL CAPITAL OF THE HUMAN EMPIRE HAS BEEN ESTABLISHED ON THE WORLD OF ALAMAR.

III. A WARTIME REGENCY IS IN EFFECT UNTIL THE CAPITAL IS RETAKEN. REGENCY TERMS HAVE BEEN TEMPORARILY EXTENDED TO THREE YEARS TO ENSURE STEADY LEADERSHIP.


 

UPON THE RECLAMATION OF KAUMAI, THE FOLLOWING CONSTITUTION ENTERS FULL EFFECT:

 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

BRANCHES OF GOVERNMENT

I. THE EMPEROR, LORD OF LORDS

II. THE HUI ARIKI, THE MEETING OF LORDS

III. THE RAPU PATAI, THE ADJUDICATORS

 

RANKS OF NOBILITY

I. THE ARCHONS, KINGS OF THE REALM

II. THE DIADOCHS, DUKES OF THE REALM

III. THE DESPOTS, COUNTS OF THE REALM

IV. THE TYRARCHS, MARGRAVES OF THE REALM

V. LESSER TITLES

 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

BRANCHES OF GOVERNMENT

 

THE EMPEROR, LORD OF LORDS

His Imperial Majesty the Emperor of the Universe, Protector of Humanity, Lord of Lords, Archon of Kaumai.

 

I. HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY shall directly govern the core stars of the empire.

II. HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY is forbidden to hold title beyond the core for longer than one year on Kaumai.

III. HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY has sole authority to grant noble titles. (See appendix: RANKS OF NOBILITY).

IV. HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY may revoke noble titles WITH the majority support of the Hui Ariki.

V. HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY is commander in chief of the imperial military, and may delegate this duty as he sees fit. He may NOT engage those the Hui Ariki has not recognized as enemies of the empire.

a) The imperial navy has a monopoly on capital ships, EXCEPT as specified by noble privilege. (See appendix: RANKS OF NOBILITY). The HUI ARIKI may grant special exceptions, but must vote on each ship.

VI. HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY is responsible for foreign policy, though treaties must be approved by the Hui Ariki.

VII. HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY may call any imperial citizen into the service of his harem at will. To refuse is high treason. The following individuals are exempt from this obligation:

a) Holders of landed, hereditary titles. (Sitting stellarchs).

b) Judges of the RAPU PATAI.

c) Family members of sitting ARCHONS - relatives who share their house name.

VIII. HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY is responsible for approving appointments to the RAPU PATAI.

IX. In the event that HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY expires without a direct heir, the Hui Ariki will elect a successor. (See section II).

 

THE HUI ARIKI, THE MEETING OF LORDS

The nobility of the realm, gathered to safeguard the emperor’s might and their own sacred privileges.

 

I. Votes in the HUI ARIKI are assigned based on title. ALL landed, hereditary title holders are entitled to a voice in the chamber. Those with lesser titles may observe on a limited basis. (See appendix: RANKS OF NOBILITY).

II. The HUI ARIKI may amend this constitution with a three-quarters majority.

III. All votes are always counted. If a lord or his representative is not present, he is considered to have voted against all proposals.

IV. The HUI ARIKI is responsible for the election of a new emperor if HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY perishes without a previously-recognized heir. This requires a two-thirds majority. If the HUI ARIKI cannot reach a decision, the oldest ARCHON of the empire will ascend to the throne.

a)  If an heir exists but is not yet of age, the HUI ARIKI will elect a regent. This requires a simple majority and must be re-affirmed each year.

b) A regent holds the powers of the emperor (see section I), but may not grant noble titles without the approval of the HUI ARIKI. He lacks the authority to revoke noble titles entirely.

V.. The HUI ARIKI is responsible for setting taxation rates and imperial spending. Imperial taxes are applied based on title. (See appendix: RANKS OF NOBILITY).

VI. The HUI ARIKI is responsible for declaring a state of war against enemies of the empire, thus authorizing the emperor and indeed all imperial citizens to do them harm.

VII. The HUI ARIKI is responsible for approving motions from the emperor such as treaties with foreign powers and the revocation of titles.

VIII. The HUI ARIKI is to appoint three judges of the RAPU PATAI, subject to imperial approval.

IX. The HUI ARIKI sets the imperial criminal code, to be enforced by the RAPU PATAI.

 

THE RAPU PATAI, THE ADJUDICATORS

The imperial judges. The Rapu Patai are intended to be politically neutral, tasked with investigating and punishing treason and inter-stellarchy crimes. They are most active at the seat of government, but to impede their work anywhere in imperial borders is itself a crime.

 

I. The RAPU PATAI shall answer to three independent judges, elected by the HUI ARIKI and approved by HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY. II. Judges are forbidden to hold landed titles and serve for as long as they wish.

III. Judges of the RAPU PATAI are commanders of their own enforcement personnel, to be funded by the imperial budget and not to number less than 15,000 men in total.

IV. The RAPU PATAI is responsible for delivering justice to the nobility and to those who evade local law. For commoners, the verdict of a single judge is sufficient to convict. Nobles require two.

V. Though most criminal punishments are in the hands of the HUI ARIKI, the punishment for treason shall always be death.

VI. If the RAPU PATAI convicts a landed noble of high crime, the noble shall be stripped of his or her title in addition to the lawful punishment. This does not strip the title from his or her line - for succession purposes, such punishment is treated as the death of the convicted.

VII. The RAPU PATAI is responsible for imperial genealogy and certifies all claims to noble blood.

 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

RANKS OF NOBILITY

 

THE ARCHONS, KINGS OF THE REALM

I. ARCHON is a hereditary, landed title. It must be held by the head of a noble house.

II. Each ARCHON is permitted a single flagship of unlimited tonnage.

III. Each ARCHON is obligated to pay double the standard taxation rate, as set by the HUI ARIKI.

IV. Each ARCHON holds four votes in the HUI ARIKI.

 

THE DIADOCHS, DUKES OF THE REALM

I. DIADOCH is a hereditary, landed title. It must be held by the head of a noble house.

II. Each DIADOCH is permitted a single flagship up to dreadnought tonnage.

III. Each DIADOCH is obligated to pay the standard taxation rate, as set by the HUI ARIKI.

IV. Each DIADOCH holds two votes in the HUI ARIKI.

 

THE DESPOTS, COUNTS OF THE REALM

I. DESPOT is a hereditary, landed title. Uniquely, it may be held in trust by the government of a stellarchy even if no noble house reigns there. Unless revoked, the title will pass through the local succession process.

II. DESPOTS are granted no special privilege to own capital ships.

III. Each DESPOT is not obligated to pay taxes to the empire.

IV. Each DESPOT holds one vote in the HUI ARIKI.

 

THE TYRARCHS, MARGRAVES OF THE REALM

I. TYRARCH is a hereditary, landed title. It must be held by the head of a noble house.

II. Each TYRARCH is permitted unrestricted capital ships.

III. A TYRARCH is a servant of the empire, and is obligated to answer the emperor’s call to arms in times of war.

IV. Each TYRARCH is not obligated to pay taxes to the empire.

V. TYRARCHS may speak in the HUI ARIKI, but may not vote.

 

LESSER TITLES

I. Prince/Princess - In the event that one shares the house of the emperor, one is addressed as Prince or Princess regardless of one’s own titles or honorifics.

II. Viscount - Many noble stellarchies raise lower nobility within their domains. This carries no legal weight with the imperial court, but these families are nonetheless recognized as honored vassals of the true imperial nobility. A viscount and his family often have privileged access in the halls of power, though this varies greatly with the prestige of his superior.

III. Baron - Addressed as Lord as with the titles above. This is a non-hereditary title which does not require land, and can be granted by the HUI ARIKI.

IV. Knight - Addressed as Sir. A non-hereditary title awarded for military achievement.

V. Baronet - Addressed as Sir. A non-hereditary title awarded for civilian achievement.

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F ā l ' s   W o r l d

 

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"It is the opinion of this panel that nothing and nobody worth knowing has ever come from Fāl's World."

-Imperial Commission for Cultural Studies, 10305 AE

 

= | + | =

 

What defines an imperial backwater? Is it the listlessness of a population bound in servitude to a corrupt governor, bound forever to work far harder for far less than others? Is it the Outer Rim frontiers, where a glass of Kaumai Crystal costs more than its weight in crystal?

 

In the relatively peaceful years after Rän-var's ascension, as the Empire reorganized itself and sought fresh talent to repopulate the academies of the Core Worlds, a Commission was created to answer this exact question. The answer? That its best example was Fāl's World, a cold, arid planet known best for the exile of an Emperor's third son and as a glorified refuelling station for Rän-var's fleet on its way to reconquer the Core from a Senate that had long overstepped its bounds.

 

Here was a perfect example of a world that enjoyed a station far too high above its worth; its capital, Orsia, was populated primarily by tourists from the Outer Rim, there to see the spectacle of (distant) members of the Imperial House that seemed to have been a diplomatic gift from the Emperor himself, that they might feel closer to him. Of course, this white lie was well-known to the actually powerful of the Empire; by 10305, five hundred years had passed since the death of the aptly-nicknamed Coin Emperor for whose son the planet was named; Rän-var was more closely related to a dozen admirals and a hundred generals than he was to his Orsian cousins, and all parties involved were clear on the subject - make no trouble, and the children of Fāl could retain their secondhand prestige. They were even allotted an attachment of Imperial Guards, though this was definitely by tradition rather than actually protecting - or protecting the Empire against - anyone with ambition and claims.

 

The second largest demographic of Orsia was Legion XXXIV and its auxiliaries; the legion had served with distinction in the Imperial Restoration, and in turn was granted the important - but more importantly, fairly cushy - job of guarding the fastest hyperlane from the Inner Rim to the Outer. The general population was spread out across poor farms and refinery-cities, and held a mixture of the Outer Rim near-worship of the Imperial House and Core World self-preservation instinct that made for the perfect citizen; loyal to the Empire to a fault, well-fed enough not to starve, poor enough not to get too dangerous an education.

 

Orsia itself was centered around the Orsian Gardens Building, an ironically-named structure - for it was a barren, step-pyramid-shaped structure, a fortress so outdated many assumed it to have been built when the Inner Rim was still the Outer Rim, and not upgraded since. At its center was a skyscraper, stout on any Inner Rim city-world, barely the size of a normal building on any Core World, but positively looming here - the Command Center, to which the Governor had been granted one of the first hereditary commands in the Empire, in a time when the Senate was still cowed by the tyrant Hiå-vek. From here, they were also the General of the XXXIVth Legion - a formality, it seemed, given their lack of skill so apparent their name hadn't been noted in the dissertation.

 

The rest of the city had, generally, two or three stories aboveground and five or six below, for the surface temperatures rarely grazed 10C (50F), and frankly it was cheaper to build and maintain a sprawling network of underground roads and tunnels than it was to keep the city heated. The chief industry of the city was to cater to the paychecks of the Legion; of the planet, to resupply the Legion. Its second largest industry, of course, was also tourism; while the planet itself was devoid of anything unique whatsoever, what other world in the Inner or Outer Rims had the Imperial House, Imperial Guards, and a famous legion?

 

So it could certainly be said, and indeed was certainly said, loudly and clearly to the assembled Senate of 10305, that further funding of Fāl's World was not only pointless, but that even the incidental boons granted in passing or by unfortunate, centuries-old accidents, were likely too much benefit to it...

 

= | + | =

 

And so, for another hundred years, just as for the five hundred before, Fāl's World was forgotten. Imperial Census-masters did not bother to come, instead fudging the books from the comfort of more central city-worlds; Admirals stayed in orbit only long enough to have the XXXIV Legion's Signalling Corps send psykic messages as required; Lords and Governors stayed only long enough to refuel their ships on their way to far more important worlds. Yet this state of affairs was not bad for the planet; as generations came and went, so too did the economy of the otherwise desolate backwater catch up due only to the incidental. A pair of State Academies was built, both by alumni of the Legion that wanted better educations for military brats; and as the Legion went from new warfighting equipment to the slow burn of maintenance, industries were build up around them to compensate for fewer and fewer requisitions being approved from the Core. Legion XXXIV, commanded by the descendants of Fāl, became the primary tool of the Governor General, and most state expenses were in its continued training and maintenance. In a stroke of strange luck, it was thereby able to stay at the stringent standards of the Imperial Core even as the Empire fractured.

 

When the Civil War finally came, both sides' junior generals and commodores made the same executive decision; it was not worth it to land on Fāl's World when there were far better targets in all systems around it. The Orsian Imperials had a single ship in their mighty arsenal and had declared neutrality - but more importantly than their neutrality, their Guards and Legion too declared their support for the planet's Governor-General, Lwin, who made it clear that the cost for taking his barely-even-income planet would be both its native legion and at least two of similar quality - and why glass a staunchly human planet when it gave full rights to its lanes? So, as the months came and passed, fleet after fleet chased each other back and forth across the system, the planetary defenses kicking in when either side came too close to the planet but, as promised, left them alone so long as they skirted it. Seeking more and more minute advantages, the civil war fleets swept further and further from the planet's orbit and began to glass each others' border systems; by its end, Fāl's World rested in the ruined wastes of a once-prosperous hyperlane, but had yet survived. Lwin lived to see his planet begin to prosper as an uneasy peace was forced between the two, but forty years after the end of the Civil War, an insane Aokigahara thought that he needed to sacrifice someone of the Imperial House to usher in the apocalypse (which, frankly, many others believed was already happening...). That someone was Lwin, captured on a rare trip without Guards - his only in the last half-century. His wife followed him soon after to the grave, believing their cause lost without the veteran governor.

 

= | + | =

 

Aokigahara's...incident, has changed little about the position of Fāl's World, in the grand scheme of things. Governor-General Lwin's eldest daughter, Soen, was born and raised in the Orsian First Imperial Academy, her teachers commanders and lieutenants, then majors and colonels. The descendants of Fāl were the darlings of their Legion, and the Legion their most prized possession; grand (as grand as the world could afford), solemn processions marked the accession of the then twenty-seven year old Soen to the Governor's Office of the Command Center.

 

Frankly, little changed - only that Soen cracked down on piracy, to the extent of using the main battery of her flagship, THE COIN, to shoot down undocumented vessels attempting to pass through her system. This has included, but not been limited to, eighth-degree subordinates of the Pirate King, small-time pirate crews, Imperial spice smugglers, Republican trade ships that were carrying a hundred more units of cargo than declared, relief vessels that had moved at such speed that they arrived before their documents announced, refugee transports fleeing from the Irik scourge in the Core, and otherwise... On the other hand, however, so long as vessels had adequate papers for every unit in their ship, irregardless of whether it was slaves or drugs or guns, if the vessel was approved by the Republic or ERTC and one of the neighboring Imperial warlords on the opposite end of the hyperlane, it was waved through with a rubber stamp.

 

Actions

 

The Governess General's thirty-second birthday is marked with a small chocolate mousse, itself a delicacy whose ingredients had to be brought from off-planet, and purchased for her against her will by Paal Alln d'Orsia and a few other subordinates...

 

Fāl's World has once again either spent its money on maintenance or put it straight into the treasury.

 

Budget

 

Spoiler

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((NOTE: I WAS GOING TO SPEND AN INFLUENCE ON COUNTER ESPIONAGE BUT I THINK I READ IT WRONG SO WILL NOT BE DOING THAT THIS TURN AND I WILL ADD IT TO STOCKPILE))

 

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UNITED VENNENDAL

 


 

MEUZEGEM SYSTEM

1300 HOURS VOORST TIME

 

Towards the western reaches of Vennendal space, a single vessel exited hyperspace as it infringed upon the gravity well of the K-type star, Meuzegem’s, gravity well. Taking several moments to recover from the impetus of their sudden deceleration, the vessel quickly spooled its sunlight drives and continued along it’s journey, hardly visible save for the flaring impulse drives, which so kindly illuminated its course and trajectory. There was nothing particularly interesting about this ship. It seemed to be an ordinary merchant freighter  making its scheduled cargo runs. The ship soon faded out of view, streaking towards the opposite end of the system like a comet.

 

Unlike a comet, however, these void-faring vessels weren’t bound to the forces of nearby celestial bodies. More and more, these ships penetrated Vennendal space, with the unifying commonality of allegiance to the Eastern Rim Trade Company. However, there were other vessels in the system. Shrouded in the darkness of the star’s tidally-locked world, a small armada has amassed, those of the Vennendalic Navy. With systems largely powered down, they observed every passing ship, be it armed or civilian. At the center of the formation was one, particular capital ship, whose hull read Kolibrie.

 

Aboard the Kolibrie’s bridge, action was scarce. Saving for the blinking displays on the CIC monitors, everyone and everything was still. By the viewport, a sharply-dressed man turned, his uniform signifying him as the ship’s XO. “Sir.” he said, addressing his superior. “That’s the thirtieth Company vessel to pass this week.”

 

“Noted, Scheel.” said the ship’s captain. This man was no ordinary naval captain, however. In his stark white dress uniform and cap, adorned with all its honors, stood Karel Frederik Elfering, current Stadtholder of Vennendal and Fleet Admiral of the Vennendalic Navy. He was elderly, no surface spared from wrinkles, though, didn’t hold a coin to the tenures of the decrepit Grand Admirals of the Empire and the Republic. Though what he lacked in experience, he compensated for in sheer will and aggression- evidenced by his tenuous campaign to repel Irik and Loyalist forces at every turn. Karel strided down the bridge’s central runway, his mag-boots clacking against the metal surface and his presence commanding the attention of the bridge officers staffing the adjacent operations pits.

 

Karel stopped just short of the viewport, turning to address the bridge crew. “Gentlemen, this has been a long time coming. For too long have the men and women of Vennendal been trampled beneath the boots of the mercantilist scourge. During the Empire’s darkest hour, the cowardly company-men pounced upon our western holdings, planting their flag of oppression, and have remained a thorn in our side ever since. Their ships mindlessly extract the wealth and resources from our worlds. In further insult, they parade their plunder through our hyperlanes, carrying their loot away to fuel their insatiable greed. To this, I say, no longer! Vennendal is back.”

 

Without hesitation, a thundering “HOOYAH.” resounded throughout the bridge, a fire burning in the eyes of each crewmember at this call to action.

 

“At ease!” Karel barked, grinning in self-indulged satisfaction. “I’m proud of each and every one of you. You’d do damn well to remember that.”

 

Scheel marched up to the Fleet Admiral, snapping to attention. “Your orders, sir?” he asks, with a certain eagerness.

 

“Relay a message to the ERTC enclave. It begins.”

 

.

.

.

.

 

“VENNENDAL HAS RETURNED TO RESTORE DOMINION OVER ITS WESTERN STARS. CORPORATE PERSONNEL ARE TO SURRENDER NOW OR PERISH IN VAIN.”

 

sike

 


 

ACTIONS

 

[MOD] At the end of the year, Karel Frederik Elfering leads an invasion against the ERTC’s enclave, along the southern hyperlane, as he simultaneously demands the surrender and return of Vennendal’s territories.

 

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[300,000 C] Colonizing worlds

 

 

Spoiler

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Grand Duchy of Alamar

 

Overview and Story

 

The Civil War and Irik invasions of the core had left humanity in utter shambles, but through it all Alamar had stood strong and firm against the tides of chaos. The Knights of Alamar had been a bulwark against the Irik, republican or any other foe that would challenge the Drydens control over their space. Now the Alamarii had what could be considered the honour of being the provisional capital of the Empire, or at least in their minds since they had not quite gotten over the results of the civil war, believing themselves a legitimate continuation of the Empire and its legal government.

 

They once more found themselves allied with the Tenierts of Orteau but had uplifted and strengthened the Folau’s who were formerly of Alamar and are now Stellarchs in their own right. The Tenierts hosted constant galas, balls and other parties and celebrations on Alamar, much to their own delight but less so to any of their neighbours who had to put up with it. The Hui Ariki, the House of Lords of the Empire now would host its sessions in Dryden Space and with the Aristocracy of the Near-Core finally beginning to unite the Drydens began to stretch the economic muscles of their wealthy sector to rebuild what was lost, to rebuild Reclamation. 

 

Albert Dryden had one vision and that was to rebuild the leadership of the Empire through the aristocracy, that leaders must become noble and act so to remain leaders. He would employ the vast propaganda networks that Senator Joseph Folau had set up during the civil war to emphasise this, as well as to promote individuals of exception and keep the people on side and loyal to the Drydens, to the Aristocracy and to the Empire itself. All the while quietly cracking down on any form of dissent that would seek to weaken the position of House Dryden or its allies. 

 

Perhaps it was Alberts own inflated ego influencing him, perhaps he truly believed it was his and his fathers leadership that kept Alamar safe instead of the simple fact of galactic geography, regardless of the real truth the Alamarii were preparing for war.

 

Expenditure 

 

Spoiler

https://i.gyazo.com/1ce2fbd133396199af46651f450b6ffa.png

 

Two Reclamator Class Heavy Cruisers are laid down this turn. [120,000 C, 50NP]

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House of Rewi

10420 A.E.

music

Image

 

The long glass pane wrapped the length of the horse-shoe room, a viewing gallery, into oblivion. Almost perfect darkness, the only reference is the studded view of the firmament unbroken apart from a black void in the outline of a human figure. The man surveys the distant void, taking in the views of the galaxy that can be perceived by the human eye. The great band of diffused light that comes from the arm of the Galactic core, gives a faint glow upon the man as he turns to return to the room enclosed by the gallery.

 

A simple, almost spartan suite comes into view as the pressure door cycles open, closing on the man as he goes to take a data-terminal. His hands play upon the reports that are competing for his attention; production cycles, training reports and dossiers on individuals; all skimmed over as Akahata sails between the stars, ensuring his domain remains stable.

 


 

The assorted vessels hover near the space-lane entrance, two simple corvettes there to deter civilian ships from coming near. But these are the first ships House Rewi was allowed through. These are the chosen, the successful applicants among billions. Some of the brightest, toughest and determined individuals from across the systems. Domicles left, taken eagerly by immigrants wishing to follow their path, these are the pathfinders.

 

Fleet Bantu assemble together, taking just one jump to settle the first world, while fleet Ratae settle the second. Preliminary scans show that the people of the Bantu are the fortunate ones, but who knows in this new path? Nevertheless, the klaxons sound among the scattered ships as one-by-one they enter the paths to the new worlds.

 

Two months drift by in the typical space boredom, the first week is exciting for those that have not travelled before, but the grey-haze of inter-system travel quickly loses it’s excitement for all but the most dedicated fans of space. Underlying all this however, is a jubilance that slowly swells.

 

Its roots were seeded years before when Lord Akahata himself made the proclamation for the colonisation of the far rim. Unlike the ERTC, the colonists did not require a boatload of cash to sponsor themselves, simply aptitude. The tests that ensured they could survive the rigours of both space-travel and colonisation weeded many out; the contractual obligation to the House of Rewi to ensure a viable breeding population of humans in the shortest timespan turned some away also. Now are just those that wish for greater amongst their children.

 

The two fleets drop out of the hyper-lane, a green and blue orb below them as the colonists face’s light up. Fleet Bantu is fortunate indeed, for they will never grow hungry again on a world such as this. The probes are sent down to find landing sites as Ratae re-align to the next hyper-lane, a single marker showing their path.

 

Humanity expands once more amongst the stars, another exodus of mankind begins.

 

 


 

+Datalog+

-System Name- 

Deemia

-Primary Import-

Fuel

-Primary Export-

Military Hardware {Naval/Land}

-Habitability-

97% suited to human life

-Cultural Festivities-

Breaking of the Border {Festival to celebrate the establishment of Deemia, and the outer reach of the Corpath Dynarchy, a long dead kingdom. Coopted for celebrating the Third Empire, the current festivities are to celebrate the independence. Multiple athletic events occur on this day. See here for more details}

Claustin {Gift giving day set in the middle of ‘spring’. Origin unknown, similar festivities galactic wide may point to an early Exodus origin. See here for this holiday archetype, see here for early-Exodus theories.}

 

 


 

Militaristic Actions

 

The fleet remains motionless for now.

 

Diplomatic Actions

 

Diplomats are sent to the Order of Crescent, to establish a communication window and to explore the possibility of closer ties. [MOD]

 

An espionage network is set-up in the USSC. [5 I]

 

An espionage network is set-up in the Order of Crescent. [5 I]

 

Economic Actions

 

Spoiler

z030iONPaoSUUhoGMDVwONnoChVjX_cmcPQ-V_bFTok5ZdC5Yl7_XA4Zwof8z6cP8nXZ4OrHbLQ5ja8KK8kVyfKbcIPkig-iUecGeXLAQQFD0PS9rK02tXJi9XcBHWvGVtngPS_W

 

The frame of a new Armoured Cruiser is layed down, the RS Sayonara. [50,000 C; 25 NP; 9 M; 2 A; 2 T]

 

Agricultural colony established in Brixolara. [50,000 C]

 

Industrial colony established in Pulmoania. [75,000 C]

Spoiler

gT90ONTuc-wPx_rhaT9pIgfg0iab3DtVWyNH6F3mz2WefeEHVUBtyT8aA9Eo4GlAkvaHJpCwJdAwZnYh9Zl4fFpHeYYhJvcf8Zkwh71S9N7QcLs-rSk_6iSmLm0XP9fgBAedYBIO

 

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GREATER ALTAIRE

 

PQRNKpG.png

 

 

--Inititate_application: Prepping>>MANDATORY_NEWSFEED>>--...

...

 

...
 

...

<--Welcome, Admiral.-->

Class Z Exemption applies to your rank.
Would you prefer to skip
MANDATORY_NEWSFEED today?

Yes/No

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Your choice has been recorded for future reference by the Office for Political Orthodoxy. Please scroll to the end of this page to access your personal messages and/or archives.



(All messages/archives are recorded for future reference by the Office for Political Orthodoxy)

 

~~THE PATRIOT’S BUGLE~~
 

SUPREME LEADER FUMAGALLI NAEI PREPARES FOR WAR: HOW MAY A LOYAL CITIZEN HELP?
As an Altairean, we all feel the need to aid in the State’s destiny to bring order to the West. While many LOYAL CITIZENS have dreams of striking down the communist threat, there are many places even those of humble talents may...
Read Further?


DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOUR CHILDREN ARE? REPORT TRUANCY TO YOUR LOCAL DISOBEDIENCE AUTHORITY!
Truancy is proven to be the first step towards socialist thinking. According to the Office for Political Orthodoxy’s foremost insurrection expert Jowan Ma’Kathay, complacency towards such misbehavior may lead down the path of Communist...
Read Further?
 

THIS WEEK IN EXECUTIONS: Communist infiltrator and former Minister for Financial Affairs to be Boiled Alive in front of Live Studio Audience.
Many execution fans are delighted to learn of the latest show to be prepared by the Office for Punitive Affairs. While information on the nature of the spectacle was leaked to the Patriot’s Bugle, we have reported the leaker to the Office for Punitive Affairs to ensure no further information breaches may...
Read Further?


“Are we too Cruel to Communist Prisoners?”: A Commentary on the Pervasiveness of Communist Thought in Academia.
Where many see places of education, the infiltrator sees an opportunity. Our greatest minds are educated in universities to bring glory to Altaire, yet according to the Office for Political Orthodoxy, at least 12% of Academics have had a positive view of at least one communist policy...
Read Further?

 

Fratanelli Stilicho, Admiral of Altairean Armada, illegitimate son of Stellarch Tarau Naei, grandson of the famed Admiral and Conquerer Stilicho, gazed listlessly out the window of his flyer. Once more he was on the temporary capital of Crimson, readying himself for his quarterly-mandated terrifying ordeal. Taking part in The Meeting with his half-brother Fumigalli Naei was the closest he ever approached death. His brother was a lunatic—an absolute, raving psychopath. Questioning the single voice of authority in Altaire however was akin to suicide, albeit the most painful suicide possible. Perhaps it was a genetic error from the tyrant's origins, as he remembered the days when the five members of the strange little family to play together. Why had they fallen to such a state, and he had not? Perhaps he was merely waiting his turn to fall.

Fratanelli closed his data-slate with a slight shudder as what felt like a stone hit the bottom of his stomach. He only barely skimmed the announcement of the boiling. He'd met that man many times.

 

The flyer was on its third hour of transit, and in each direction Fratanelli could see nothing but the endless spires of the Red Palace. It was built by some Stellarch or another, possibly to one-up a neighbor during the early prosperous years of the Third Empire. The complex covered almost a quarter of the planet, with beauteous halls of the most decadent design to be seen outside of Kurmai (or what was left of it). Some parts hadn’t seen a human being in centuries, and overgrown gardens twisted around palatial estates. There was even a forest within the vastness of structures, large enough to support its own native ecosystem. Not that he’d seen it of course, he only heard rumors. Stray too far from the path dictated to you by the House Guards, and you would quickly be named a traitor and shot out of the sky by Anti-aircraft fire. The Palace felt like a tomb, with only the hint of birdlife flittering from the sound of the flyer to prove the world was not entirely dead. Yet even so, the adventurer within himself felt a pull to explore these ancient places, just to see what might have been left behind...
 

The fifth and final hour of transport was always the most harrowing for Fratanelli. He practiced every statement he planned to make in his mind, and edited the internal script of anything that might sound vaguely threatening to a paranoid schizophrenic. It was a long list of things to edit. How fast should he walk to not appear like an attacker? How should he hold his hat, so to not appear to wield a secret gun? If he looked too hard at the palace’s upholstery, would someone assume he had planted a listening device? After an hour, the flyer passed between the final spires and entered the periphery of a vast, artificial valley hundreds of kilometres wide. In the centre, a modest (by the Red Palace’s standards, anyway) estate stood, surrounded by anti-aircraft guns, fortifications, trenches, soldiers, and patrolled by a trio of aircraft. He could see from the window how every gun on ground and in the air aimed at his flyer as it ambled to the ground as slowly and carefully as it could. Fratanelli shakily placed his hat on his head, and with his hands tactically positioned on the doorhandle and his headrest, pulled himself from his chair while allowing his hands to be completely visible to the dozen House Guard training their rifle’s sighs at him. This step was important—if it looked like he was vaguely reaching for a gun, the House Guard would kill him without a second thought. However, were he too obvious in showing his hands, it would imply that he didn’t trust them, which could be seen as the attitude of a traitor and they’d arrest him. He kept his face blank as he stepped through the group of guards, and approached the commanding officer. The man, a prim, short fellow in black armour, saluted Fratanelli stiffly.

The House Guards were all foreigners; this one was a coreworlder judging by his hair and complexion. Their process of formal greetings was as clockwork. First, they started with the polite question...

“Welcome back to the Red Palace, Lord Stilicho. I trust the journey was not too long?”

 

“It was fine, thank you.” Fratanelli replied. He carefully adjusted his Admiral’s surcoat, causing the medals on it to jingle in the silence. Now the officer would move on the vague questions to check for something asinine. He always assumed they did it to knock their victim off-balance or make them flustered in future questions.
 

“I do hope the wine on offer was to your liking?” The officer continued.

Fratanelli wasn’t aware there was any alchohol aboard. Was this a trick? Would it be revealed that it was supplied by Fumagalli, and his loyalty would be put into question? The officer’s face revealed nothing. He was sure there was no alcohol aboard. Regardless, he would have to take a risk with his answer...

“I prefer not to drink before meeting with Supreme Leader Naei.” Fratanelli calmly replied. “I find breath laden with alcohol to be disrespectful in important meetings, such as this one.”  The left eye of the officer twitched, and he nodded slowly.


“A wise perspective, your Lordship.”
Riposte, you beady-eyed core-rat.

The officer drew his hands behind his back and continued on.
“Before you may enter, I must ask for a blood sample. We need to check your DNA—a new defense against possible infiltration through facial surgeries.”

“I see. Do you have a previous blood sample?”

“The Office for Political Orthodoxy sourced one from a doctor’s appointment you had last month...”

“Very forward thinking.”

“... for a twisted ********.”

The man didn’t blink through the whole exchange. Fratanelli knew it was strange that doctor needed a blood sample. Why was the officer revealing this information, however? To see if he would change doctors—implying suspicion about the purposes of the State? That was clearly a long-term gambit. Fratanelli’s face didn’t even twitch.

“Yes. It was quite painful. Is there anything further you require before I may enter?” Fratanelli felt a small prick on his left hand, but did not so much as twitch. A uniformed man (A very quiet one, clearly) tapped on a data-slate, before nodding to the officer.

“No, Admiral. You may proceed. Glory to Altaire.” The stiff salute returned, and he marched away with his soldiers. Fratanelli adjusted his hat again, put pressure on the small puncture on his hand, and walked towards the main doors.

The inside of the estate was opulent, but in a somewhat alien way. This part of the galaxy was not native to his culture, and the décor seemed to clash with his very presence. Gold leaf in floral patterns, frescoes adorning the walls, and wooden furniture made him slightly uncomfortable in his Altairean Naval uniform. The meeting room was a direct walk from the main door, and every five meters was another House Guard in full regalia, standing to attention. He felt their eyes on him as he passed. There was no privacy for visitors in this place.

As he walked through the doors, he took his usual place in the long, 23-man line staring at the featureless wall in front of them. There were no furnishings anywhere; nowhere for anyone to sit or even lean. There were no windows or doors, save for the one that they entered through. There was no speaking among the other guests, only silent, parade-ground stillness as many uniformed and civilian men gazed blankly into thin air. Fratanelli did the same, and began the wait.

 

It could take up to hours before the call was made, but it was mercifully short at only 10 minutes. Somewhere, hidden, a woman’s voice called through a PA system.

 

“The visitors shall turn around.”

Each man in the room pivoted on their heels, and stared back towards the doorway. Clattering metal, footsteps, and the all-too-familiar sound of guns being cocked and loaded echoed in the room before the woman spoke again.

“The visitors shall turn back.”

 

Again, a heel pivot, except this time furniture had appeared in the room as well as a large, leather chair. Lounging in it was a long-haired, heavily bearded man with sunken eyes and sallow skin. Behind him, three women stood in similar condition, their hair wild and black rings around their eyes. Each one had a rifle or shotgun, aside from the wild man who held an ornate revolver-style handgun in each hand. They were all pointed squarely at the waiting line of officials, shakily switching targets at the slightest movement.

 

All four of them were naked, head to toe.

 

The man in the chair was Fumigalli Naei, the Tyrant of Crimson, the Supreme Leader, and the Stellarch of Greater Altaire. His blue, stern eyes darted between the men gathered before him, and his lips twitched with anticipation.

 

“You are all here, then. It is time for the report. Reports are for loyal subjects, yes? You are all loyal, of course.” He hissed the final sentence, almost as if he didn’t believe it himself.

 

“But first,” he rasped. He shifted his weight in his seat, and his fingers wrapped around the triggers of his guns. “You must all be hungry. It’s not polite to leave a guest hungry after a long trip.” He gestured over to a table in front of himself, with a small tray of assorted muffins and tea-cakes. “Would any of you care... for a snack?” He forced the words out shakily, a look of anger spreading across his face.

 

Fratanelli did not hesitate a moment. Hesitation was always more dangerous than accepting Fumigalli’s request. “Thank you, Supreme leader!” He said with an energetic lilt. He stepped forward (not too quickly) and placed his hat under his arm (not too suspiciously) and smiled at each person before himself while looking at them in the eye (not looking at the chair, the guns, or the cakes themselves). Fumigalli’s eyes narrowed at him, although his sisters smiled back.

 

What  quickly followed was each man in the room copying Fratanelli’s actions, movements, and tone precisely. After each had returned to their place in the line, Fumigalli appeared to slightly relax, and took his fingers away from the triggers. “Good. We have performed the host’s rightful duty. We shall now proceed... with the report. You shall all speak your reports in order, from that side of the line.” He waggled his revolver to the man on the very end of the row.
 

Fratanelli’s heart sunk. He was at the very opposite end, and would likely be standing here for hours. “After your report is done, leave." Fumagalli continued. "Speak to no-one on your way out! Not a word!” He glowered at everyone in the room. “Not a word. Not a word! Not a word!” He repeated, hammering the handle of his pistol on the arm of his chair. Fratanelli could feel the sweat building on his forehead.

Fumigalli, vibrating angrily, pointed his gun directly at the first man in the line. “Speak!” He roared.

 

The next three hours was a series of men attempting to convey complex socio-political, economic, and military concepts to a group of naked psychopaths who were currently staring them down with loaded weapons. Fumigalli gave eccentric responses to most requests, but did, to an extent, address what needed to be addressed without anyone being shot (although there were some close calls). One by one, the ministers exited the chambers, until all that was left was Fratanelli, who was thirsty, desperate for the toilet, and suffering from terrible leg-cramps.

As the second-to-last minister closed the door behind him, Fumigalli and the three women all stared.
 

“Brother, dearest.”

Fumigalli and the sisters left the chair behind, and slowly approached Fratanelli.

“It has been... too long.” The wild-haired stellarch almost sounded angry, but there seemed to be some sort of genuine feeling beneath it.

 

“You never visit us anymore, Fratty!” His half-sister, Tulea, giggled. “Why do you only visit when it’s report-time? You always liked to play with us before!”

“He doesn’t play anymore, Sister-Dearest. Fatty Fratty was always too serious! Always buried in his books! Always too good for us!“
 His second half-sister, Yegha, hissed.

 

“He’s not fatty anymore Sister-Dearest, he’s a soldier-boy now! So tall and... strong... handsome boy...” The third half-sister Diwa whispered, bringing a hand to his shoulder, and slowly, delicately, drawing it towards his chest. Fratanelli did everything he could to not strike away the creature that was once his sister. The only thing that was left in those wild, hollow eyes was depravity, and recently this abhorrent perversion. Their psychoses appeared to worsen upon every visit.

 

“I apologise that I cannot spend more time with you, my family, but as Admiral my duties are many. I must protect Altaire.”

 

The other sisters joined Diwa in touching Fratanelli. Their closeness and nudity inspired a revulsion that could not be expressed in words by the Admiral, but Fumagalli's fierce gaze stuck him in place.

 

“The Communists, Brother-Dearest.” Fumigalli hissed. “They’re everywhere. Even those supposed “loyal” men here today harbour communist sympathies. I know it! I can smell it in their breath! In their blood! Their thoughts float around their heads like birds!” He too approached Fratanelli, and placed both his hands upon the Admiral’s shoulders.

 

“I need you to kill them, Fratty. I need you to kill them all. They’re going to kill us otherwise, Brother-Dearest. It’s only a matter of time! A matter of time! A matter of time!”


He leaned so close that Fratanelli could smell the rot in his teeth, and the acrid smell of unwashed hair and urine.

 

“Outside this room, you are the only one I trust, Brother-Dearest. I made you the Admiral because I needed you to be there, to keep our family safe.”

 

“Keep us safe, brother-dearest! Keep us safe!” The three circling sisters chanted, still grasping at him with clammy, unwashed hands.

 

“You’ll promise, won’t you Fratty?” Diwa whined. “You’ll protect us from the most evil people in the galaxy?” Long, dirty fingernails stroked his cheek, as the Admiral stared on impassively.

 

“I promise.” He whispered.

 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

To the Freeholders and Lords of the 'Realm' of Xiao

 

It is apparent that the rightful lands of Greater Altaire currently lay in the hands of usurpers, invaders, and miscreants. The House of Naei has long since ruled from Mediolanum, its splendor and prosperity an achievement to all who saw it in the days of the Empire. Yet, at this time, much of it exists outside of the Authority of its rightful rulers. The Xiao Bloodline is known to Stellarch Naei, as it remains on the registrars of Altairean Nobility. As you are a noble house of Altaire, what was once seen as an act of usurpation has instead lead our gracious Lord to a glorious realization--the Xiao have not, in fact, betrayed Altaire and their rightful Stellarch, but instead have acted as custodians to Altairean territory. This realization has greatly pleased his eminence, as betrayal would lead to dire, violent consequences for House Xiao. As such, the following treaty to renew your continuing obedience to House Naei has been written for your convenience.

1. The House of Xiao will not pledge allegiance to any other House, political entity, or political concept without the express permission of Greater Altaire.

2. The House of Xiao shall lend its military assets to Greater Altaire should it be requested, used at the discretion of Greater Altaire.

 

3. The House of Xiao shall accept Altairean traders and military forces access through their space without tariff or tax.

4. The House of Xiao is, was, and always has been united with Greater Altaire. Denying such will be recognized as an act of betrayal, and the ravaged corpses of all members of House Xiao shall be tethered to the hulls of the Altairean Armada to be scoured into dust by the radiation of deep space.

 

As House Xiao's rightful liege, Greater Altaire assures:

1. The House of Xiao shall receive recognition as the rightful custodians and rulers of Northern Altaire, save for the ancient capital of Mediolanum and its surrounding systems.

2. Greater Altaire pledges its support in all defensive measures against aggressive entities, and will aid in military campaigns against the true usurpers of Northern Altaire.

 

3. Greater Altaire shall lend wealth for the purposes of repairing infrastructure and building local defense fleets and fortifications, including offering captured worlds to the authority of Xiao, should materials be sought.

4. Greater Altaire shall forgive any proclamations of independence as simple misunderstandings.

 

We await your recognition and pledge of loyalty with much anticipation.

Written on behalf, and with the authority inherent, of:


Stellarch Fumagalli Naei.



-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

20,000C, 20M, 20NP Towards 20 trade vessels
37,500C, 15M, 30NP Towards 15 Freighters
100,000C, 16M, 32NP towards 10 Destroyers
60,000C, 12M, 40NP towards 2 Light Cruisers
30,000C, 12M, 12NP towards 6 Fighter Squadrons
20,000C, 8M, 8NP towards 4 bomber Squadrons

[MOD] 30,000C spent on hiring grugs to excavate old battlefields for delicious ship bits. [MOD]

SLWfeZp.jpg

 

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House Matareka

"Technology and Martial Might"

His very essence melds with the stars at speeds most couldn't fathom. The inky void of space was lost to human concepts of time, or distance. Ever shooting forward, past glistening stars, and barren worlds. Searching for a single spark, lost to all. A slight tingling changes the direction of his consciousness, honing in on the spark. What was once a distant speck now becomes the flaming brand of a human mind. Brushing up against it, his consciousness conveys feelings of satisfaction, enhancing what was already there.

With a gasp, Mokihi Matareka comes out of his trance. He is surrounded by aides and squires, dutifully recording the test. "Col reports they made contact, even with the distance increased" one mutters, the rest scribbling notes. "Let's try again, but far-"

"Enough" Mokihi snaps tiredly. Sighing, he puts his fingers to the bridge of his nose as a migraine comes on. "We have done enough" He says again, this time more amicably. With a groan he gets to his feet, waving off offered help. "We should be there by now" He idly mutters as he heads out of his meditation rooms. They were nestled in the heart of Redemption, the Capital ship to Lord Roko's legacy as the fleet is now called. For once the Irik houses lay quiet, focused on other far greater wars.

 

With the reprieve for at least this year, Mokihi was determined to get to the bottom of odd reports. They originated from a derelict mining world, one of many. But the rumors and tales were nothing but ordinary. The Imperial Squire himself has taken it upon himself to investigate, and who knows what he'll find....

 

-

 

Mod Actions

 

POI 13 is explored by Mokihi Matareka onboard his Capital Ship Redemption. They will follow the leads to whatever point of interest has been causing so much speculation.

 

When not busy with the investigation, Mokihi continues practicing his Psionic ability as he has for all his life. He continually tires to reach farther and farther across the void to his Captain acting as a test subject on a separate ship. The goal being to hone his abilities to the point he can actually reach other minds on ships across the void, for combat or otherwise.

 

5 Influence is invested into the House of Suns. 

5 Influence is invested into Erasmis's Domain

 

Financial Actions

 

Building Crown Ship CA 60,000C + 25NP + 9M + 2A +2T

 

Recruiting 10k Artillery -10kC, 5AP, 4M, 3A

 

Recruiting 1 Million Infantry [Militia] 10kC, 2 AP, 4M

Edited by GrimBeard
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Realm of Xiāo

https://i.imgur.com/SQKjrSv.jpg

The world of Xian sat isolated in the Realm, only one hyperlane both out and in it was the established de-facto capital of the Xiāo

 family's rule of Northern Altaire. A massive agricultural world that stored the vast resources of the realm ensuring should things ever go south the Capital had supplies for a final stand or to prolong a siege.
jason-dobkin-farm-5.jpg?1546758153

Xiāo Hu, the Elder of the family and ruler of the Realm spends most of his days on the Capital seeing to the more political matters and backroom plays. Allowing his sons the more adventurous life of leading military units or traveling around the realm.

“I will be leaving immediately aboard my ship and departing for Crimson to meet with the Stellarch to assure him he has our loyalty. I’ve no interest in being pinned between Warlords to our north and Altaire to our south.”

“I’ve heard disturbing rumors..are you sure..”

“Yes I am, it doesn’t matter otherwise. Our family has risen this far. I won't lose it all over a dispute of hierarchy or independence.”

==Actions==

Building 6 Destroyers - 60,000c 24 NP 12M

Attempting to Infiltrate the USSC (-5 I)

Answering the Call of his Stellarch, Xiāo Hu sends his son Tian with his flagship and a small fleet towards USSC Territory. (will fill in details in PMs)

Xiāo Hu heads to Crimson to meet with his Stellarch and assure his loyalty to Greater Altaire.


GBPhz06.png

 

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Orteau

 

The latest meeting of the Hui Ariki had gone about as well as one could hope, but even so, Adrien left the Alamaran capitol with what could only be called a stalk. Both his siblings were shorter, and they struggled to keep up, as did the numerous attendants which accompanied the King of Orteau wherever he went. It was already well into the night, and most shivered in the cool air.

 

“Well, that’s over with.” Adrien growled, his swordcane striking aggressively on fine marble with each step. “Anna, I expect you can handle things from here. Alain, you and I leave for Orteau tomorrow.”

 

“I doubt it’s going to explode in the next few weeks.”

 

Adrien shot an unappreciative glance back at his brother. “We have no further business here, and so we belong elsewhere. Tell the staff, would you?”

 

Alain sighed, and slowed his pace in defeat. The king did not, and was soon lost amid a small crowd of local nobility. Still flustered, he turned back to his sister.

 

“He gets worse every year.”

 

“Well Alain, I seem to recall a saying about apples and trees.” Annabelle did not appear to be joking. She and their father had never gotten along. “What was all that about?” the ugly woman asked, gesturing back to the capitol. “You told me a month ago we’d be giving Dryden another regency. If we’re going to be changing tacks like this, I can’t-”

 

“Yes, I know. Damned impolite, I’m sorry. Adrien thought he was getting complacent. I can’t say I argued too much about it. The Duke will do just fine; it’s momentum we’re after.”

 

Anna just looked skeptical. Somewhere in the Dryden gardens, an owl called out.

 

“You’ll see.” Alain turned back to the capitol steps. “It’s been nice to see you. Did you get a chance to speak with Alice?”

 

“Did I. The woman wouldn’t stop speaking to me. Always with a different face. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was showing off.”

 

“She should be. I told her to.”

 

“Like I haven’t seen it before?”

 

“Not like this.” Alain leaned on his cane, and gazed up into the clear sky. Alamar was a remarkably unpolluted world. The Tenierts prided themselves on the cleanliness of Orteau, but in most places there one could only see a few dozen stars. Here they were all visible, a twinkling sea overhead. “When father died, and the emperor after him, do you remember what I said to you?”

 

“No, but there was a distinct lack of optimism,” Anna indulged him.

 

“There was. Thankfully, Adrien proved me wrong. About most things, anyway. We have allies, we have defenses, we have weapons. We’ve had some peace, for what it’s worth. But it won’t last. Ultimately, all of that is useless. We could send everything we have at the mindbender and it’d shatter like a stained glass window.”

 

“I am aware. Everyone is.”

 

“Yes, but nobody does anything about it.”

 

“Mostly because there’s nothing to do.”

 

“There was. There was nothing to do. With father, without Ran-Ji, everyone just assumed the House of Winds was invincible. But it’s not true! We just haven’t had the right weapons. Well, now we do.”

 

That took Annabelle by surprise. Her already-ugly face contorted in shock, her voice lowered to a whisper. “Dear God, Alain. You’re going to get her killed.”

 

“I can’t make her do anything she doesn’t want to do,” retorted Alain indignantly. “But even if I could…we’re all soldiers these days.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Anna hissed.

 

“Just that sometimes, duty needs to be done.” He let out an exasperated breath. “And there’s one duty we’ve ignored for fifty years. We can recruit all the soldiers we find, we can build the greatest fleet in the galaxy. But none of it - none of it - will matter…”

 

Alain looked to the sky, his cane whipping up to point directly at a cluster of stars that everyone this side of the core knew. The conqueror constellation. Kaumai.

 

“...until someone kills him.

 

akCfNCCrHkdrZkYTJcGVN42h69oE418SS73-10JUO1MxxEgff8cyGr_6cbJXEpvd0Mg-fo8eSFNMDYYOGUVluljFwyXHB_jAmMNUqBjTTPoxiSPfWCBhO1ORQCZt5lLLfmkMjF89

Actions:

 

-[REDACTED] [5 I]

-[REDACTED] [5 I]

 

-An envoy from Orteau arrives on Fal’s World, to offer an engagement of the heir to the house, Archibald, to the young Penden. Though the backwater has little of value, it does have a clearly traceable imperial bloodline, which its noble neighbors consider valuable…

 

-To ensure steady logistics in the days to come, the Tenierts order five new freighters which will accompany their fleet. [$12,500, 10 NP, 5 M]

 

–At great personal expense, Lord Adrien commissions 500 new Adjudicators from his finest soldiers, soldiers and sycophants. In the sprawling bunkers below Keep Teniert, the chosen are all but flayed alive and rebuilt, every nerve and muscle honed to a deadly weapon. [$40,000, 8 M, 2 A, 2 T]

 

-A truly massive government grant goes into reclaiming lost Orteau space in the east, where a power vacuum has recently re-emerged. [$200,000 to claim 4 planets.]

gZG9YgqpmjL5xtRcAmjkjIGt7aMq-0KriuMwaZmTth3_dSkqKMM4Yd2xzxjYKFPVPgX83scFBKxKkpS-Gdw1SxFdsn9hHFnw0QKUMhyXvtjHX-ycvAVTjLqKviPYXGnFk9bVEd9s

 

-With a good portion of the ruling house on Alamar for the recent meeting of the Hui Ariki, it is only natural that their lustre should be on full display. In their embassy-estates, the Tenierts host a series of extravagant receptions to celebrate another successful term of the regency. The local nobility is duly charmed. [$36,000 spent on generating influence.]
 

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The Hekeati

 

image.thumb.png.a7ec30925e45dacf2dce73ea22db3a2a.png

 

 

>Two new regiments of Life Guard, under the tutelage of their ancients, emerge from the great fortress-camps of Temeria Tertius. (50.000C, 8m, 2a, 2t)

 

>Two new Light Cruisers are produced. 

 

>Influence and time is spent sending agents to infiltrate the U.S.S.C. (15 I for T2 network)



 

Actions

 

>For lack of psychics, the Life Guard send a message filtering back through the Galactic Network. The loyalty of His Majesty’s Life Guard awaits, all that Lord Taera must do is present himself on Temeria Tertius, and face the Sample, deep within the guts of the Red Temple. There, his lineage will be tested. Should he pass the secret trials, the Life Guard will soak the galaxy in blood to ensure his Return.

 

>[Redacted]

 

>A delegation is sent to Lord Rata, requesting the establishment of an embassy in his land. The main ask is simple: to ensure cordial relations between elements that both once served loyally under the Emperor.

 

>Another envoy is sent to the ERTC, requesting estimates of capital ship production prices in their Driveyard.

 

>A singular stealth ship is jumped into the first USSC system neighboring the Hekeati, to begin a careful scouting of the system, the occupied planet, and any signs of an enemy fleet.

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Duchy of Castrillon

10,420, House Folau's Palace, Castrillon.

 

          Kalei strode down the hallway of his palace on Castrillon with his son’s hand in his. As the pair walked together Kalei’s boots combined with the pitter patter of Kalani’s, made a beautiful resounding sound that notified the guards ahead of them that they were on approach, and they should indeed open the door for the room ahead of them. “We’re going to miss it father!” Kalani’s developing voice said to Kalei. "Is mother going to be joining us??" Kalei chuckled at this statement and looked down at his child while the two kept stride. “Yes your mother will be joining us." Kalei said with smile still on his face. "And you always say that, yet when we get there, we’re early. Patience boy. We’ll get to see it like always. “ The energy of Kalani could be felt by his father and they walked on. Upon approach of the observatory, the echoes in the hallways had fulfilled their purpose as the entrance was already open. The two palace guards who were snapped to attention holding the masterfully crafted doors. This was a normal occurrence whenever an event like today's was happening, and as such the guards knew that the excited young man would be coming through again like he always did. As Kalani rushed through the doorway, he noticed his mother already in one of the three seats, to which the vigorous child jumped into the second seat available. Kalei followed suit by taking the third seat next to his son, only after planting a kiss on his wife Leilani's cheek. There the three sat, waiting in anticipation as they looked on trying to find the Valor class assault carriers high in orbit. After not much waiting, it began. From the clouds broke dozens of pods barreling from orbit like meteors. The observatory was, essentially a massive glass viewing room as the name implied, and the trio got to witness Castrillon’s finest conducting a long integrated training exercise. As the pods landed, shock troops exploded from them and continued on with their training exercise by performing the standard procedures of a combat drop. Kalei was able to peer down at his son who was so encapsulated at the sight, trying to absorb it all into his young mind. In the back of Kalei's  own mind however, the duties of being Lord Regent poked and prodded for him to return to his office and get back to work. Yet for just a little, Kalei sat and enjoyed the fine spectacle with two of his most favorite people in the whole galaxy.
 

Sheet Screenshot

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Actions:
The shipyards produce two more light cruisers for the cause. With the nation's budgetting finally falling into place, there is not much else activity following these lone constructions. Perhaps next year shall be more eventful. (60,000 C, 40 NP, 12 M) 

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Dominion of Badab

 

--------[Insert Password here]----------

--------[**************************]---------
checking password

Cross Referencing

 

Password accepted
 

-CD OIA
-CD Strategic Reports

-CD Overall Reports
-Open File 'Strategic Report 10,421 AE'

 

- Checking Clearance

 

Clearance accepted

 

ERROR, FILE CORRUPTED 

 

-CD 'Intelligence Reports'

- Open File 'Intelligence Report 10,421 AE'

 

- Checking Clearance

 

Clearance not accepted

 

-CD 'Diplomatic Reports'

- Open File 'Diplomatic Report 10,421 AE'

Spoiler

Insurgent Sympathizer identified amongst Diplomatic Corps. Security Check in Progress, for duration of Security Check Files will not be available.

 

-CD Economic Reports

 

- Open File 'Military Expenditures 10, 421AE'

 

Spoiler

-LSRB is constructed in system 3, to make space for it infrastructure for agriculture will be demolished (50,000C Cost)

-Two Light Cruisers will be constructed (40 NP, 12M, 60,000C cost)

Cumulative: 110kC, 12M, 40NP 

 

- Open File 'Balance Sheet 10,421 AE'

Spoiler

ThUgROF.png

 

-Log Out

 

-Logging Out Successful

 

 

--------[Insert Password here]----------

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Ushen 

 

Velia, the once lush continental world with two continents separated on either side of each other by a deep blue ocean that had a calming view to it to those who looked out at it during the night sky. Wild life used to roam free, birds chirped happily in the morning, and the ecosystem flourished. That was before the discovery of oil on the western continent by Carlos Velia. 

 

But now, Velia was a grotesque scar to what it used to be. The lush forests that covered the continent were chopped, slashed, and burned away. The sound of wild life was replaced by the sound of machines and factories churning endlessly. The ocean’s dark blue tint turned brown and filled with pollution and trash. The change to Velia’s landscape was similar to most worlds in the fuel belt. All striped bare and exposed for treasure that laid beneath their crust. In a lot of ways, the change to Velia, represented The head of House Velia in a lot of ways as well. 

 

Rein Velia, was the current head of House Velia. The Governor of Velia, and the leader of Ushen. He was a promising military mind, so his time in Velia was minimal during his childhood. Which underwent massive changes from the Imperial investments to build Velia into one of the leading producers of fuel in the Galaxy. The construction of these facilities came with a lot of expectations, which accelerated the destruction of the planet's natural beauty. Rein’s childhood was spent upon Vestra, in Ushen’s military academy. The youngsters in this class were quite brutal towards Rein, beaten and bullied daily as their families hatred or resentment towards the Velia household came to a head inside the academy where they could not protect him. Besides this he excelled through his courses, and graduated at the top of his class. Just in time for the Empire to splinter. The young man was thrown into the harsh realities of life. During a planetary assault, his unit walked right into an ambush. 90% of his men were eradicated in an instant, as he was found unconscious and half-dead in a ditch. The next thing he remembered was waking up back on Velia, with the face of a man he barely knew. His right eye was replaced with a cybernetic one, with the burns and scars covering all the way from his mouth and cheek. The once promising, good-looking man was turned into a horrendous scarred mess. Embarrassed and hideous, he hides the lower portion of his face behind a mask. 

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Actions: 

A war was brewing, and being nearly surrounded by the oil barons, and the merchants. The shipyards of Ushen begin to churn once more, adding an additional Heavy Cruiser to the fleet would help mitigate the dependence on the other Republican admirals. (1CA starts construction 50,000C, 25 NP, 9M, 2T, 2A. ). 

 

More oil being produced and lack of storage production meant fuel storage would be needed. To mitigate this. The idea of a space storage fleet was drafted up. (5 Freighters start construction. 10,000C, 10NP, 5M.) 

 

A few delegations are sent out to probe the interest of trade pacts with other Republicans and some of the oil barons. To open up a diplomatic discussion, maybe. 

Edited by Sneaky2
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