Catostrophy

944NE A triumph! A great victory for the empire against the scurrilous forces of Korvic ruination! A Korvic tribal confederacy was driven from the field of battle and slaughtered in their thousands! Loot from the camp and battlefield are paraded through Altaire’s Shrine Road before the effigies of the ancestors! Their women and children are in chains to be sold to the arena or crucified along the roads for the perverse pleasure of the capital’s citizens. The Governors of the provinces are invited to a great celebration in honor of the triumph... ... the triumph of Orbus Kelrum - Legate of the First, Fourth, and Fifth Legion- of course! After relieving the local militia, Orbus engaged the enemy forces and crushed them with almost no Imperial losses. Wasting no time, he and his forces crossed the waters of the Collapsing Falls and took the great valley beyond. Named in his family’s honour, the ‘Kelrum Valley’ has been transferred to the authority of Aulus’ March. The contributions by the Provinces are noted, however. (+5 Imperial Influence to anyone who sent soldiers to the battle) A new state has formed in the Hearthlands. Declaring itself independent from both Altairean and Trinnimec rule, the Auldun Commonwealth is expanding rapidly at the expense of the Trinnimecs. Their forces comprising mostly of lightly-armed mobs, they cut a bloody swathe across the Hearthlands, fanatically touting “freedom, equality, and brotherhood.” The Imperial authorities denounce them as ‘brigands with banners squatting on rightful Altairean territory.’ Dire reports pour from coastline villages on the Crimson Sea. Pirates are raiding and pillaging without mercy or restraint. Fast ships baring the insignia of the extinct Third Fleet strike coastal towns and merchant vessels without warning before disappearing across the horizon. No-one seems to know where they come from, as they sail into the sea rather than follow the coast like most ships. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Royal Highlands: The trade treaty may be placed on hold, as ships are raided liberally by the vicious pirate bands of the Third Fleet. Though they don’t attempt to retake what was apparently their previous port, they cause great havoc along the shorelines of the Crimson Sea. (-5AP and no AP from sea-bound trade this turn) Annor’s Crossroads: The newest prototypes of Milus Bombs are still not ready for combat use, but are definitely getting close to something worthwhile. The Sorcerer’s Conclave approves of the advancement however and sends another stipend for its further development. (+10AP towards Milus Bombs this turn) Though the Conclave shows interest in the idea of oversized hand-cannons, they aren’t willing to invest in any more projects until the first one is completed. Riviera: Reports come in from the coastline! Pirate ships from the north have slipped past Blightswamp and the Gray Coast; they are heading towards Riviera! Be wary, Governor... Blackwoods: More Korvics are drawn to assimilation from the programs of the governor and his wife. Though many more local Korvics grumble about how Brecca’s tribe seems to be given far more attention and privilege than the other, less important tribes. Nasty slurs about her character ripple through their savage communities. The Sorcerer thanks the governor kindly for his donation, and promises that he will definitely probably find something soon! He has a few theories, but he’s waiting for another mass disappearance to look into them deeper. In the mean time, he’s been interviewing local blackwoodsmen about the disappearances and so far only has a 20% death-rate among them! He’s hoping to drop that a bit lower when they get around to trusting him. Tamaraad Coast: The donations are sent to the grieving families. They take the money thankfully, but they cannot mask their bitterness at how the glory seems to have been taken by this “Orbus” fellow, and no-one is talking about the Provincial forces lost. There is some clear resentment, there. The charity does not go unnoticed by those in the capital, though. (+1 Imperial Influence) The gold is received once more by the capital, and they are happy to take it. The generosity of the Governor is truly one to be admired...(+5 Imperial Influence) The priests approach the Governor once again with a request—as the gold was a gift from the ancestors, they desire a large temple built in the vicinity of the mine. It is a way to honor the contributions of the fallen soldiers that now rest there and the wealth that blesses the Province. They request 10,000 denarius for materials and engineers from the capital. Silus is beginning to get noticed in the Altaire. The priests speak of him fondly, and their flocks listen intently... Pirates of the Third Fleet plague the coast of Tamaraad and disrupt trade (-5AP this turn, no AP from sea-bound trade this turn). Blightswamp: The missionaries from Tamaraad begin their work preaching to the people of Blightswamp. They prod and scorn the locals for mistakes in their shrine-tending and prayers. Every small transgression from orthodox tradition is elevated to a grievous sin. The Plains of Farlus: The exploration of the hills finally turn up something useful. As the prospectors dig into a hill far off the beaten track, they are surprised that it didn’t contain ruins, but what appeared to be a whole building buried beneath the earth! (Skype) The explorations into the moldy town reveal that it is definitely an abandoned town. But could there be more...? (Skype) Island of Salathai: The missionaries are gladdened by the donation from the clearly devout governor! However, the people are less pleased. They grumble about the mainlander Neaists proselytizing on their island, and those who are not as faithful as they claim are getting restless when being publicly declared ‘heathens’ by the fiery clerics. An unassuming man – possibly from the capital – answers the call for people skilled in espionage. He doesn’t give his name, but shows his skill by breaking into Governor Gaius’ office and leaving a letter of acceptance on his desk. He also infiltrates the staff and learns the schedules, home addresses, and favorite wine of everyone in the building. The information of Oarsbrekk is handed to Gaius by the end of the year. Some of it may be surprising. (Skype) The Imperial Council answers the letter, as the Emperor is not yet of age to tend to such things. They are surprised at the commander’s treachery, but accept the resolution and punishment. Not completely though, as Decimus had quite a few friends in the capital. Among them are a number of wealthy traders who were very interested in his career, apparently. (-5 Imperial Influence) The sailors, so poorly disciplined, are not happy with the sudden change in their daily routines and drinking time. Serious discontent is spreading through the fleet but it has yet to find an outlet. Only time will tell if this spirals out of control. Several veterans from the Imperial Fleet and the First Fleet answer the call, eager to get back into the service, or just make a few denarius on the side. They will certainly be necessary if the Governor hopes to get the Fourth Fleet under control. Bahzuuth Jungles: The Governor of Bahzuuth’s name is well known among the poor of Altaire. Whole poorhouses have been fed by his charity, and the forgotten unfortunates who scour the crumbling streets pray for his health. Beggars whisper his name to one-another, wishing that he were on the Imperial Council rather than the greedy lords that occupy their chambers. A number of skilled surveyors come to Bahzuuth as a favor from some mining guilds in the Four Isles of Arai. Sadly, they can’t seem to find anything in the Hopeless Crags. Not that they dared go too far in, as they spotted a terrifying creature the size of a village perched on a mountain top. If it was like the monsters they heard plague Esk, they had no desire to linger there. They did spot some ruined stonework deeper in the jungle, however. Perhaps that information would please the Governor? Aulus’ March: The pirates of the Third Fleet seem to avoid the March, as the first fleet is docked there. The merchants are still too afraid to step out of port, however. (No sea-bound trade this turn) The lands of the Kelrum Valley are transferred to the authorities of Aulus’ March. The people here who were not enslaved, didn’t run, or weren’t taken by the soldiers are cowed enough for Imperial rule to take hold. (+30,000 population, 2 Farm stacks). (Dev’s Expenditure) 29AP in total: 5AP towards a T2 mine, 5AP towards reinforcing 4 cohorts of veteran medium infantry, 9AP towards Mercantile district, 10AP into 2 regular cohorts of steel-clad medium infantry. All players who didn’t get their posts done in time will have their AP carried over to next turn. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ No old kooks are spotted this year. Perhaps he’s retired...?

Our Prices are to DIE for! Earth year 2113, Hades, Mine 15. Phillip Narau stepped inside the decompression chamber and the oxygen hissed into the cramped space. The space was, unfortunately, made further cramped by the presence of the rotund Jason Woolard, who was currently telling another of his mining jokes. Jason’s humor almost always involved flatulence or food references—two favorites of the mining magnate. Phillip patiently waited for his voice to reach a specific wheezing crescendo that indicated the approaching punchline to his joke. Once it was heard he would be able to give an appropriate response, and then move on to the next topic. “... beef patty right out his arse!” Following this statement was Jason’s loud, quacking laugh. As per his usual habit, Phillip answered politely “yes, very amusing, Jason.” The hiss of oxygen pouring into the chamber drowned out any further comments. Good. It would give Phillip a chance to take hold of the conversation’s flow, and keep Jason focused on business. “As I was saying, Jason, the Board has a few concerns that I agree with.” Jason nodded along as an orderly came into the chamber and helped Jason unbuckle his special X-large environmental suit. Getting in and out of heavy, radiation-shielded outfits was part of life on the outskirts of Hades inhabited zone. Annoying, but less annoying than environmentalists and thus a net gain for Phillip and the Corporation. “Huh?” Jason’s balding, sweaty head swiveled in Phillip’s direction sending his extraneous chins into a hypnotic jiggle. “Oh yeah,” he guffawed as recognition spread across his face. “You mentioned that before my story! Aw mate you should have been there...” “No doubt, Jason, it was a deeply humorous situation.” Phillip could feel his grasp of the conversation almost slip from his fingers. “The issue isn’t so much economic, but about our leadership. May pose a hypothetical question?” The two men stepped into Jason’s tacky and messy office. As the orderly closed the door behind them, Phillip steeped his fingers in thought; how could he phrase this in a way Jason could follow? “What, in your opinion, is the most... good... form of government?” Jason’s wide face scrunched up in thought, and he fell into his heavily-reinforced armchair which in turn groaned loudly from his obscene mass. “None of them?” “Yes, very true, Jason. Allow me to rephrase—what in your opinion is the best form of management?” Jason’s face lit up. “What we’ve got right now! This is pretty bloody good!” “Exactly, Jason. I agree. If we were to apply a political definition to what we’ve got right now, it would probably be closest to an ‘enlightened autocracy.’ Our ‘autocrat’ or CEO in this case, has almost total executive power and yet isn’t interested in abusing it for personal gain. The values and experiences he had during his upbringing and adult life have made profitable decision-making skills instinctual while still accounting for PR.” Phillip swiped some crumbs off a chair in front of Jason’s desk, and carefully settled himself into it. “What I am trying to impart, Jason, is that our situation is very, very rare. The Corporation relies on periodic executive inactivity, coupled with sporadic focus. I am not sure if any of the current executives on the Board will be able to restrain themselves similarly. Are you following me so far, Jason?” The mining magnate was staring at Phillip open-mouthed and with furrowed brow. “Ah, yeah? I s’pose?” Phillip grunted in approval. He had expected Jason to have trouble with this information, but he’d have surely said something if he was confused. “As Mr Penrith is close to his 50th birthday, I think it’s wise that we begin future-proofing the Corporation’s growth potential by selecting an heir, and artificially recreating the upbringing of Mr Penrith’s own childhood. I will require some time to research this process. From my early theorizing, I suspect some sort of familial estrangement mixed with healthy doses of failure and humility may be the right course of action, but I will need to look into it with more depth.” Jason slowly nodded his head, though his expression remained the same. “I’m not going to have time to see Ms Price when she’s finished with her latest tourism construction effort.” Phillip stood up, and straightened his jacket. “Will you be able to relay to her what I’ve explained to you? I’d prefer to keep this between the three of us; fewer externalities to calculate while I work on preliminary flow-charts.” “Uh, yeah. Sure.” Phillip narrowed his eyes at Jason, studying him for a moment. “Are you sure you are capable of relaying said information?” Jason sat up straight, and nodded vigorously. “Yeah, no worries! Here, I’ll write it on my hand!” He took a pen from a novelty beer-bottle pen holder. “I always remember stuff I write on my hand!” He stuck his tongue out as he scribbled frantically. Satisfied, Phillip nodded once and walked out of Jason’s office. The orderly waited patiently at the decompression chamber to help him clamber into his environmental suit once more. Jason ran a sweaty palm over his forehead, and smudged the skin blue with ink. Earth year 2121, Hades, Joey’s Legit Pub-Food & Bar. Jason wolfed down another bite of his steak. He loved the food in this place—there were only so many spots on Hades that could capture the authentic Australian pub-tucker taste he craved. Milly Price, tourism mogul and xenophobe, was sitting in front of him reading something on her data-pad and looking particularly smug. She always made that face whenever she got something she wanted, and Jason couldn’t help but feel like he’d forgotten something. It was the steak, coupled with Milly and an oncoming bout of flatulence that seemed to jog something deep in his memory. Was it something to do with steak? No, beef! Farts were involved for absolute certain. There was something important that he needed to say to Milly... The mousy woman looked up from her data-pad and was greeting by a halfwit staring at her while deep in thought. The creases on his brow were indication enough that he was thinking very, very hard about something. “What is it, Jason?” Stammered Milly. “Did one of those Grgl touch me? Jesus Christ they creep me the hell out.” Jason continued to glare, and his eyes opened wide as if a great realization had dawned upon him. “Holy ****, what is it?!” Milly leaned forward with her nervous fingers drumming on the greasy table. She looked around herself in worried anticipation. “It... it wasn’t a Backhatta, was it? Please tell me a space-roach didn’t brush past me just now.” Jason leaned to his left, and a racid, wet fart trumpeted proudly from his flabby backside. “Nup. S’alright.” While Milly coughed and swore, Jason happily dug back into his steak. It was probably nothing important. Earth-year 2141, Hades, HCAC Tower. “And you trusted Jason to tell me?!” Milly roared. There was sweat practically dripping from her forehead as she screamed at Phillip Narau, who was currently adjusting his tie in a large mirror. “He assured me he understood my instructions, Ms Price. I had assumed he’d tell me if I was unclear.” He tsked, and pulled the methodical knot apart for the third time. Ties were very important for first impressions. “You didn’t think of checking in on this subject for two decades?” Milly hissed. Her rage was now simmering rather than boiling. Phillip reached to his right, and pulled another tie from a rack of several dozen. This one had small, black stripes that matched his facial tattoos more closely. “If I had known you were manipulating Steve’s son I probably would have stopped you, you creepy bastard! Maybe you never wanted me to know?” She growled, and began stalking the room like a cornered tiger. “Maybe you thought I’d tell Steve, and you entrusted this information to an idiot so I couldn’t interfere—and if I did find out you could say that I was informed!” She pointed a wobbling, accusatory finger at the Maori with her teeth bared. “Covering all your bases, right Narau? Trying to make me look all tied up in your dirty little plans! That way, I would fall with you if I told anyone! You’re sick Narau. Fuckin’ sick.” Straightening his jacket, Phillip took one last look in the mirror and nodded to himself in satisfaction. “That was not my initial intent, but I will admit that it was an unprecedented boon. You and the rest of the Board do not have the foresight to properly navigate future difficulties for this Corporation.” The accountant turned around, and loomed towards her with his massive arms clasped behind his back. His facial tattoos made any expression camouflaged and unreadable—if he ever emoted anything at all. “It has taken me significant effort to ensure growth beyond our lifetime. Your meddling and lack of subtlety would merely slow or destroy the process. What would I even entrust you with, Millicent Price? Introducing Mr Penrith to his secretary and bringing her to him at times of emotional heights? Perhaps it should have been you to suggest giving combat droids to his son in order to grow his interest around industrial processes? What of convincing Mr Penrith to give the child a business to run in order to isolate him from forming friendships among his own age? Do you think you could have performed that task, Ms Price?” Phillip spoke coldly as he approached Milly. The enormous accountant dwarfed her as he reached for the door handle to her right. “My process - a very complicated process – is almost complete. All that is left to do is ensure that John is estranged from his family, and then have him take the helm of the Corporation. After which his adult life will be shaped by Hephaestus. All unnecessary personality quirks and foibles excised and replaced with PR-friendly profit motives. The perfect CEO.” Phillip opened the door, and glared at Milly as he walked through. “We’ll speak after the meeting. As an accountant, I must account for the future of Hephaestus -- both economically, and diplomatically.” The mousy woman watched as the icy giant departed. Part of her wanted to follow him, but knowing that both that Karass Queen and Protorian Archivar were in the tower, she baulked. Earth year 2142, Grand Ares, Office of Jason Woolard. Milly paced around the tacky, plastic office of Jason Woolard biting on her nails and mumbling to herself in barely-constrained panic and stress. The large man himself was sitting in a larger chair and scratching his chin, somewhat confused. “You know, what he should have done is got me to write what he said on my hand. I always remember stuff I write on my hand.” He shook his head sadly, wobbling his neck-rolls along with it. “If only he knew that, poor old Phil.” He raised a puffy, red hand on his equally puffy, red eye. “I miss the guy. He always liked my jokes...” Milly took this opportunity to march over to Jason’s desk, and slammed her hands down on it loudly glaring at Jason right in his beady eyes. “Now’s not the time for fuckin’ reminiscing, Woolard.” She hissed through clenched teeth. “What the hell are we going to do about his little plan? He said it was ‘almost complete,’ and something about ‘estrangement.’ He was trying to mirror Steve’s upbringing in John’s, but what if there’s more to it than that? What if there’s a bunch of **** that still needs to be done?!” She began to frantically pace again while rubbing her migraine-ridden temples. “We tell his mum, she won’t get it, and she’ll talk. We tell the Board and they’ll toss us under the bus immediately. Jim’s too bloody slippery for his own good. I don’t trust him. He’s already cut us off from the kid...” Jason stared vacantly at Milly, perplexed at her behavior. “Do we just leave it? What if his brain breaks somehow, and we get a nutjob as a CEO? I’ve heard he’s already having nightmares from the attack...” Jason scrunched his face up in thought. “Well, he’s estranged, right? Like, I don’t think he can get more estranged than he already is. After what happened to... ah jeez...” The voluminous man began to tear up again, wiping his eyes and nose with his sleeve. “Steve was a top bloke, Mills. I miss the bugger... you remember the t-“ “We’ll just assume everything will be fine!” Milly giggled hysterically as she continued her marathon around the office. “It’s all we can do, right? I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? It’s not like Steve’s gonna come back to life anytime soon! It’s probably all working, and John will grow up perfectly adjusted to his future role. All’s well!” She looked at Jason for encouragement, but all she got back was a worrisome expression. Earth year 2144, Hades, Office of recently resurrected Steven Penrith. “A space wizard, Milly? That’s your solution?” Steven was older than she was, but he still had boundless energy in his movements and actions. He seemed different after he returned, but he was definitely the same Penrith as the one that fried his brain with a laser-pistol. Somehow. The opulent office wasn’t even changed during his year of being dead. John wouldn’t allow it, and the Board weren’t willing to argue with the future CEO. His legs were kicked up on his priceless mahogany desk, and the white suit he’d taken to wearing made him look like a plantation owner from the 19th century. “Nightmares could be bad for PR Steve! I mean, I’ve heard he’s started shooting up his room!” Milly groaned internally from straining her voice. She was starting to feel her age, and Steve’s bizarre youthfulness unnerved her. She hadn’t engaged with the CEO much since his return—a fair few Board members matched her viewpoint on the miraculous return of their boss. Milly herself was quietly seeking evidence that he was some sort of secret Eadni-like clone. So far, though, nothing had come of it. “My son just has good sleep-aim!” Steve retorted sharply. “The screams are just loud yawns! I’ve told this to you buzzards already! Just because you’ve never yawned at the top of your lungs doesn’t mean that Penriths don’t.” He folded his arms, and peeled his eyes away from Milly. “I won’t force him to go off on some misadventure and have a sorcerer poke around in his head.” “Yeah but Steve,” Milly cooed plaintively, “the Board is getting concerned.” “Well the Board can shove it up their puckered—“ Steven inhaled sharply, and rubbed his temples with a grumble. “—look, I’ll send him to one. If he comes back and everything’s the same, we can assume that he’s fine. Alright? You got that? Perfectly fine and normal!” Milly left the office satisfied but frightened. She internally cursed her paranoia, but most of all she cursed the specter of Phillip Narau who still haunted the Board and its members. His scheme was now her scheme, and she needed to see its last puzzle-piece in place before she could sleep soundly at night. Now, only time would tell if Johnny Penrith would measure up. There was no way in hell she was leaving Aphrodite again. Earth year 2159, Hades, HCAC Tower, Office of John Penrith. John pushed away a large holo-screen on his desk and stretched his arms. Running a corporation this size was exhausting, but there was nothing a power-nap and synth-coffee couldn’t fix. He remembered his father’s words as he handed over the company to him—“pace yourself, eat properly, plan around leisure, six-to-eight hours of sleep every night. No excuses.” It was a good system, and thankfully it was almost time for the leisure part. He just had one more meeting before he could relax. “Mr Penrith,” the raspy voice of his Backhatta secretary chimed, “your four-o’clock appointment is here.” John settled himself back into his large, leather chair, and cleared his throat. “Cheers, Lilly. Send her in.” Hopefully this would be over with quickly. The moment she walked in his office, Johnny was immediately captivated. She was definitely human (it could be hard to tell sometimes), and she had the poise of a supermodel. A knee-length skirt and modest blouse barely hid her svelte figure as she gracefully slid in front of the desk with an outstretched hand. “Mr Penrith. A pleasure to meet you,” she purred. John grasped her hand firmly and shook it enthusiastically. “Ms Roxanne Marawai,” he grinned. “Pleasure’s all mine. Have a seat, love!” As she settled into her chair, John took a moment to examine her in a less than chivalrous manner. He had a feeling he would be saying yes quite a bit during this meeting. “As you’re quite aware, sir, Executive Millicent Price has passed away.” “Yeah, bloody shame. She was a tough old bird. Glad she went out in her sleep. Less frightening for the poor old thing. Drink, Ms Marawai?” “I’d love one, thank you, sir. And please—call me Roxanne.” Her melodious voice followed John as he sauntered to his crystal decanter and poured a glass for the two of them. “Roxanne it is. Though I think I’d prefer you still call me ‘sir’ throughout this meeting.” He turned back to her, glasses in hand, and sat on the edge of his desk. “Why bring up Milly, Roxanne?” Taking her glass, she swirled the port and hummed to herself. “I was the lead manager of Aphrodite Resorts Ltd for over a year before she passed away. I didn’t make the hard decisions, but I organised everything and kept her accounts in order. I feel, due to my experience running the resort, that I should receive the leadership of the subsidiary.” John tilted his head in bemusement. “Well as a lead manager you should know that I don’t delegate who owns what subsidiary. That’s up to the shareholders.” “Yes I know, sir.” Roxanne spoke softly. “But in exceptional circumstances the CEO may determine who controls a subsidiary. My circumstances aren’t particularly exceptional. But...” She took a sip from her class, and placed it on her desk, leaning across John to do it. Her hand brushed across his thigh and she stared in his eyes with a small pout. “... I like to think I’m a very exceptional person, don’t you...?” She leaned towards his ear, and whispered huskily. “...sir?” A reptilian smile spread ear-to-ear on John’s face. “Ms Marawai!” He gasped in mock shock. “I’m a married man!” Thank God it was leisure time. Earth year 2159, HCAC Tower, 7th Floor: Accounting. A young girl with sandy-blond hair and green eyes sat on the most boring floor of the most boring place in Corporate space. According to her friends in school, most of the fun things employees could do were relegated to adults. She lived in her massive tower (to the ignorant jealousy of her mates) with her own large room on one of the top floors. She hated the gray monolith as much as she hated her parents. Today she was meeting the one member of her family she didn’t openly loathe to spend time with—Grandpa Steve. The old man had told her to meet him on this particular floor in an hour or so, but she turned up early to sit around the accountancy offices. She liked making the agents nervous for kicks, as the accountants were by far the wimpiest employees in the tower. Sometimes she pretended to take notes on them as they passed through the hall in order to make the sweat through shirts. Every now and again she threw in 'tsks' and head-shakes. Her goal was to make at least one of them faint before her grandpa arrived. Suddenly, she heard a familiar voice echo around a corner and slowly approaching. “... if it does happen. And I’m not suggesting that it will, but if it does, make sure that-...” A heavily wrinkled, doddering Steven Penrith stared in surprise when he spotted his granddaughter sitting on a hallway bench. “Well I’ll be blowed! What are you doing here so early, sunshine?” Sinchil stood up, and shrugged. “Nowhere else to be.” Steven scoffed, and hobbled over to her to gift her with a kiss on her forehead. “Kids should be running outside and bidding on the stock-market. Even special ones like you.” He pushed her towards the two imposing women who had followed him down the hallway. “This is High Commander Sophia Briarwood,” Steven shakily gestured to a skeletal, stern, gray-haired woman who nodded towards Sinchil. “And this is High Commander Amanda Phelps.” A tall, blond-haired woman with a strong jawline smiled slightly and nodded her head. “They’re in change of the Enforcers and Corporate Fleet respectively. Sinchil waved lazily. “Hey.” Steven wheezed a laugh and ruffled her hair. “She’s only just turned into a teen, and she’s already got that angst and whatnot!” He drew her away from the two uniformed women. “We’ll talk about that thing later, ladies.” Steven and Sinchil walked at an ambling pace towards an elevator. “Now Sunny, today I’m taking you somewhere very special. You know what ‘the Box’ is?” Sunny shook her head. “Well, it’s where we keep our most valuable stuff.” He rasped. “All our most special stuff from earth (and afterwards) we can’t keep in a bank.” The two stepped into the elevator, and Steven pulled out a thick blue security card. Swiping it across a special scanner, a number of loud whirs and beeps chattered before an electronic voice buzzed. “User identified: S. Penrith. Unidentified Guest detected. Please present card, or vocalize CEO override.” Steven rolled his eyes, and sighed. “Override code: beers-and-babes one two three four five.” Sinchil smirked and looked at Steven questioningly. “I set it a long bloody time ago, Sunny. Don’t laugh at your grandpa.” The ride down in the elevator was slow, but a helpful screen informed the viewer of the current depth. “I wouldn’t bother reading that,” Steven remarked. “I had the screen show triple the actual depth to make it seem more impressive.” The pair arrived at the bottom of the elevator (apparently 150 feet beneath the tower), and the doors slid open to reveal the glimmering shine of gold. “What’s with all this metal, grandpa?” Sinchil ran her hand over dusty rows of gold ingots. The pathway was lined with tonnes of the substance, many stamped with English characters, and others with Tassaran and Grgl lettering pressed into them. “Back in the day, gold was worth a damn. Nowadays it’s just a more expensive form of copper. I decided to keep what we got in the early days for the hell of it.” As they ambled ponderously down the dusty path, the room slowly opened up into a grand chamber, filled with all kinds of strange objects and oddities. As they traveled, Steven pointed out some of the treasures littered throughout it. Sinchil snorted as they moved past a tall, nude marble statue. “That there’s David. I managed to nab him by paying off six curators in the Accademia Gallery with seats on our colony ship. I send their kids Christmas cards every year.” “Over there is the Madonna on the Rocks.” Steve said, waving a hand at an old painting encased in thick glass. “I tried to get the Mona Lisa but the frogs locked the Louvre down before I could bribe anyone. This is still fairly nice, though.” They passed by suits of armour, unusual swords, skeletons of massive reptiles, and gilded sarcophagi. Each one had an unusual story of how they were obtained, ranging from bribery, to unambiguous theft. ‘There weren’t many rules in the final days’ was her grandpa’s justification. After a long walk through a trove of treasures, they made it to the very back of the vast concrete chamber, where a bronze statue of a dog sat on a green ‘tucker box.’ Steven coughed, and sat down on the base of another renaissance statue wearily. “This one’s a Bernini,” he wheezed, sticking his thumb out towards the two marble figures wafting above him. “I forget its name. Rape of Apollo or ah, Daphne and Pros-something? I dunno. His stuff looks nicer than most, but they’re less recognizable.” He leaned back on the intricately carved stone, and waved his hand and the bronze dog. “Move that dog to the right, would you? Grandpa’s knees are buggered.” Dutifully, Sinchil walked over to the statue, and pushed it aside. As it was moved clumps of dust wafted into the air causing an eruption of coughs and sneezes from the young girl. Steven cackled, “Should probably get some cleaners down here, huh?” She shot a withering look at her grandfather, which only made him laugh more. When the statue was finally out of the way, she waved the wafting dust out of her face to see what was revealed. All that she could see behind the statue was more dust and some refuse concrete. Steve pointed towards one of the larger pieces of concrete with a wrinkled smile. “Bring that bit to me, sweetie. Time for a story.” The concrete turned out to be a whole cinderblock after it was pulled from the pile of dust. It was so old she could feel the outer-layers of its rough surface rub off on her hands. Steven took the block from her, and hefted it onto his knee. “This right here is probably the first block laid for the first Hephaestus factory nearly a hundred-and-fifty years ago.” Sinchil gave Steven an incredulous look. “Shouldn’t it be in a case, or something?” Steven answered her with an equally incredulous look. “Hey? Its concrete, Sunny. It doesn’t need a case. I didn’t feel right sticking it in a box, anyway. Not when there’s a whole heap of stuff more valuable money-wise. I like it in a corner and out of anyone’s sight. My little sentimental secret.” He rubbed dust from the brick, and powdery gray sand covered his hand and trousers.” “Back in the day,” Steven began (in a tone Sinchil recognized as his story-voice), “My dad pulled together a bunch of his mates and a few contacts he had in the dying manufacturing sector in order to build their own business. It was to be chock-full of experimental automation processes that would make it viable in markets that were traditionally dominated by the Chinese and Africans. Penrith Industrial Solutions he called it, since he was technically the boss. They pooled their money into the project to get a decently-sized factory approved for construction. But the builder’s unions didn’t approve of the safety standards and the money on offer for the project. Unions were a pain in the arse to deal with in those days, see. So after just about every construction company turned down the project out of fear, my dad, or your great-granddad, Andrew Penrith said ‘piss on this, I’ll build it meself.’” Steven licked his lips with a smile. Sinchil listened on curiously, though she wasn’t particularly sure about where the tale was going. “He and his mates put together the shoddiest, wonkiest, cheapest factory you could make. It was basically a shack on top of concrete. How it passed its council inspection was an absolute mystery, even to my dad. The thing fell down the very day the operation moved elsewhere, and I dug this bit out after my dad karked it. Er...” Steven furrowed his brow in thought. “...where was I going with this...? Sinchil smiled kindly at her ailing grandfather and sat down next to him. “What I mean to say, sunshine,” Steven continued after a long pause, “is that I’m not going to be around much longer, right?” “You don’t know that, grandpa.” Sinchil quickly retorted. “Ah, well, no. I’m pretty damn sure I’m not going to be. So I figured I’d ah, sort of pass this thing over to you, right?” Steven seemed to struggle with his words for a moment and his brow creased from thought. “I’m er, not the cleverest man in the galaxy. Sometimes I think it’s a big joke that Hephaestus even made it to where it is now. I mean, how the hell did we even manage this? How has everything been working out this well? Wait wait, hold on. I’m rambling again. There was a point to all this...” “... I guess, ultimately, is that Hephaestus is our home. It’s your home. When you build something with your own hands its worth more to you than something you bought or got for free. Your family’s blood, stubbornness, luck, and joy are mixed into this shitty, cheap concrete. This business is very important to me. It’s important to millions of people. And that’s sort of got me confused, see? Because people are willing to die for it. And that’s not something I ever really thought about. If a business is the home to millions, who have their own culture and identity, and will stand up for it when it’s threatened with violence—I mean, what the hell does that make us?” Steven rubbed his temples, and groaned. “I dunno. Things have been getting confusing for me these last few years. Maybe it’s my age finally catching up to me? I guess you can’t be a century old and not have your thoughts get all foggy.” He looked at the cinder-block and sighed deeply. “The Corporation is important. But you need to remember that you can’t always treat it like one. Or that your actions are only for your own sake. Things get muddy when you start asking pointed questions about it. I just hope you remember that when you grow up, is all.” Steve rubbed the underside of his nose with his palm, and wiped it on the statue. “Alright lovey. Put it back.” Sinchil groaned as she took hold of the block, and Steven snickered. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Action Points 4AP by default, 32AP from trade, 16AP from population, 25AP from sectors, 36AP from business, 26AP from industry, 2AP from the Trade Federation, 6AP from cargo capacity, 8AP from itoron mines, 4AP from dialite 485AP from Zyrka 15AP from poland Total = 637AP BONUSES:-Ravenous Industrialism: -5AP off industry investments, +25% manufacturing output. -National Idea, Peace: 2% extra growth on primary population. -1AP from ship upkeep. -The Zyrka send the money, and the Hephaestus sends the droids! The factories churn, and combat droids roll out like a river of metal and guns. (-1415AP towards combat droids, to be delivered to Zyrka) -MEGA-MARTS MEGA-MOVING OUT OF THE MEGA-SHIPYARD! MEGA-MAGNIFICENT! (-50AP towards five MOVING MEGA-MARTS) -More population, more people, more sectors in desperate need for colonisation. Eight more colony ships are commissioned by the Corporation. (-24AP towards 8 colony ships) -Industry is a hearty target, should a man desire a healthy market. Though it can be rough, and though it can be tough, we must always follow through. Our buyers seek no competition, when they spy our disposition. Belching smoke-stacks, Products in 12-packs, Forging things are what we do. Look upon our pamphlets—dozens! Show them to your friends and cousins! We offer great deals, just listen to our speels! We always have something new! (-280AP towards industrial investments. Woah mama) -Aurora Astro, owners of the now famed Aurora Shipyard, are still not satisfied with the current size of their docks. They invest heavily in yet another upgrade project. Will it ever end??! (-100AP towards upgrading T7 shipyard to T8) -Warships are ordered at the Auroran shipyard, now that there’s enough room to build them between the colony ships and the MEGA-MARTS. (-26AP towards 2 heavy cruisers, 3 corvettes, 1 destroyer) -Due to the bulging R&D programs this year, a sum of funds are sent to the Trade Federation in order to support the increasing research into Swarmer Missiles and Torpedo systems. (-85AP) -The Hephaestus R&D concentrates on something far more grandiose than mere missiles. The Board has determined that blockades cannot possibly be perfectly legal without a way to truly lock down a planet. Enter the design of a new experimental class of warship. A Super-carrier, some might say, though others might class it as a ‘Beholder.’ They also seek to tweak it in a special manner, to make it far more practical for the other Hephaestus project... (-35AP towards designing a beholder vessel) -Why waste the valuable lives of pilots when you could simply replace all manned fighters with droids?! Or better yet, make the actual fighter just one big droid! Using the Provectus fighter as a base, the engineers begin tweaking and fiddling with the craft in order to make the perfect (affordable) unmanned fighter. (-35AP towards the Doris droid-fighter) -Two fury psionics, Daniel and David Tweedle, are sent off to the Grand Alliance academy to be trained. Why not have some psionic bodyguards, hm? (-2AP towards training) -A Polish man approaches the corporation in order to produce a number of tanks for their armed forces. Hephaestus happily obliges. (-12AP towards coal-powered tanks for The Grand Polish Republic)

943NE 16,000 Korvic warriors are making their way towards the river, with carts and horses ready to drag loot from the restful inner provinces they hope to penetrate. It is a plundering army, rather than an invading one. Raids like these are intended to solidify alliances and baptise new friendships in blood and loot. Such is the way of the barbarous filth. In the far east, the Trinnimecs have lost control of large swathes of their Hearthland territory. There's talk of new states rising there in the power vacuums, as warlords begin consolidating territory and awarding themselves titles. Off the coast of Blightswamp, ships appear and then then disappear on the horizon. They never come close enough to be properly observed, but it's a surprising amount of activity in a region where there should be no ships at all... ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Royal Highlands The governor's gems are accepted by the young Emperor's liaison. The child seems uninterested in meeting the provincial governor, however, being as he's overwhelmed by all manner of boring dignitaries and statesmen. The Imperial Councillors still makes note of the wealth of jewels on display. The governor is curtly thanked, and allowed a chance to mingle with the less important guests in the banquet hall. He makes a fair splash there, at the very least. (+5 Imperial Influence) The sorcerers were at the fight, and were more than happy to help after such a marvellous investment into their research materials! The three adept sorcerers talk happily of ow exciting the battle was, and how one of them managed to burn a whole ship! What fun! The bandits are butchered left, right, and centre on the trek through the mountains. They're not all dead, but the roads are clear at the very least. (Road trade and upgrades now available) Aulus' March You build the things. You upgrade the things. The fleet go to the things. Have fun with the Korvics btw. Blightswamp The Imperial Capital is surprised that Legate Ferio managed to perform anything of any value at all. His dreadful reputation seems to override any influence gained from the act of brutalising some filthy Korvics. Despite an increased interest in slaves, most people in the south don't really want Korvics anywhere near them--especially not swamp-Korvics. Even the people at the Circus Hubectus are unwilling to buy the men and boys for fights. Though there's a little interest in the women and girls, as soon as potential customers hear that they're from Blightswamp they utterly refuse to buy. No-one wants a potentially diseased slave. Looks like the Governor is still stuck with them. Plains of Farlus A group of master sorcerers from the capital turn up just after the announcement for the academy is made. They make it very clear--to both the local sorcerers and the Governor--that any academy built will be subject to the will of the Conclave. They will be allowed a modicum of autonomy in their service to the province, but all artefacts will be under the jurisdiction of this new academy and the Conclave. If this cannot be accepted, then the Governor will have an empty building. The search still turns up very little. More of the hills are found looted clean or are simply just... hills. The further inland from the roads they get, the more prevalent the white stones become. Talking about white stones, Octavia performs her research and discovers that the white stones are definitely stones, and certainly white. They are completely mundane, with the exception of one point--she cannot identify what kind of stone it is. Even local masons are puzzled by it. It's not magical by any means, but it's not found anywhere in the Empire. Riviera No information on the old Kook's whereabouts come forward, but he is finally identified! Luvenis Senem, semi-famous athlete and notorious con-artist, has been scamming people for almost 30 years. Having found no fortune in marathon running and hiking, he took to petty theft to seize honest citizen's hard-earned money. His silver tongue and exceptional energy has kept him out of the hands of the law for now. He's apparently only 50 years old. Who can say where the miserable ruffian is now...? The roads are painted crimson from bandit's blood! The filth are unable to outrun the thundering hooves of the Kataphraktoi and those that hide are quickly found and slaughtered by the Rivieran infantry. Though not all the bandits are gone, they're certainly no longer a constant threat to the Rivieran merchants. (Road trade and upgrades now available) The young Emperor is ten years old, and his mother refuses to allow him a chance to drink the Provincial wine. It is sampled and enjoyed by the Imperial Council instead, and it is lauded for its quality. (+1 Imperial Influence) Tamaraad Coast The missionaries are relieved to know that their request was remembered and will be well-funded by the devout Governor. They buy ships, supplies, holy books, and hire pious sailors. With the blessings of Neai, they depart knowing that ancestors will grant them success. The news of the mission is sent to Her Temple in Altaire. They take note of the Governor's piety, and continued service to the faith. (+1 Imperial Influence) The gold finds its way to the capital and manages to get into the hands of the right people. Some of it ends up in front of the Emperor, some in the hands of bureaucrats and Imperial Councillors, and others to "concerned citizens" of high standing. Many important people make note of this gold-bearing governor. (+5 Imperial Influence) The Blackwoods The Korvics are none-too-pleased with the sudden interest in assimilating them. Before they had simply gotten by on pretending the Provincial authorities didn't exist, but now that they're trying to change their way of life! Though there is a lot of grumbling, there are many Korvics that are interested in adopting a culture more advantageous to themselves--the money they are getting being one such advantage. It seems that there's a social divide forming among the Korvics in the Blackwoods. The rangers stalk through the trees, bringing death to all they see. Eventually, they start running out of bandits. Strangely, more bandits were predicted to be in the woods, but other than empty campsites nothing more can be found. For the most part, the Blackwoods has now cleared its bandit problem. Family loyalty is a big deal among the Korvics, which unsurprisingly are the majority of bandits. As promised, the families of those who were proven to know their kin's activities are enslaved. More grumbling among the Korvics occur. In the meantime, the eccentric master sorcerer has managed to finish his incantations among the forests and homes of the citizens, with very few Blackwoodsmen casualties at that (though a few huts and burned down here and there. He is very unpopular among the natives now). He draws out a final, massive sigil on the fields just outside Elona, and with a whisper and crackling white bolts of magical energy, the thousands of sigils light up in unison and locate... ... nothing. There is nothing magical about the foggy woods. This doesn't seem to phase the Sorcerer, but rather make him even more excited to uncover the mystery! He informs the governor that he plans to stay longer. Free of cost, too. Annor's Crossroads The tests actually come back with some success! The newest Millus bomb variant seems to actually have a greater chance at killing the person it's aimed at, rather than the one throwing it. There are still a lot of dangers involved with exploding pots regardless of how well designed they are, and none of your troops are yet willing to carry them on a battlefield. The Sorcerer's Conclave shows some interest in the project though and they show their interest in the form of cold, hard cash. They are willing to invest 10,000 denarius (10AP), provided all schematics are shared with the Conclave. What is a "firework?" Is it what the woodsmen does when cutting firewood? Strange, alien words, Governor! Perhaps Lucretia has finally gone mad... The Emperor receives the weapons, and orders them to be brought before him. The young man is excited by the strange, pretty bang-bang tubes, as he's seen them fire before during training drills outside the capital. He's very pleased to have his own, though his mother seems less excited. (+3 Imperial Influence) The scouts find something in the mountains! Gold! Beautiful, gleaming gold tucked away in an abandoned mine high up in the mountains bordering Riviera! Such riches are sure to pl-... ... wait, this isn't gold. This is some sort of bizarre material that looks somewhat like gold, but is completely worthless. Surely, though, there's someone willing to buy such a silly thing for the humour of it. (+2AP per turn from Fool's Gold) The blood of bandits flow, and their screams are heard on the crosses that dot the roads. Crows feast on the dead happily. The bandits have now been dealt with, perhaps never to recover... Bahzuuth Jungles The fort is slowly restored, and beneath the collapsed stonework, southerner refuse, and scrub, skeletons clad in rusted armour lay in and around the walls. Perhaps its previous occupants? The soldiers of Pius occupy the fort on its completion. The scouts are sent on their mission and begin to prospect around the Hopeless crags, but find nothing of any worth. The mountains are barren rock with little indication of anything else being available. They are tall, however, and they make note of stonework relatively close by. Perhaps another abandoned fort. The poor and needy of the city sing praises to the Bahzuuth governor who feeds and clothes them through his sheer generosity. (+2 Imperial Influence) Island of Salathai As the restorations are completed on the newly recovered mine, the miners report that there are clearly foundations and ruined supports for even deeper shafts. They don't have the expertise and tools for excavating further, though. Perhaps if they had more knowledge in engineering they could perform such work (+15AP towards T3 iron mine [when you can actually build one]). The mine is patrolled heavily by the soldiers, and nothing out of the ordinary is found. Perhaps it was abandoned in the past due to banditry, or collapses? Though the bodies aren't covered in rubble, and iron mines aren't known for attracting thieves like gold and jewel mines do. Very mysterious. The commander arrives, and only slightly drunk as well. (Skype) The Gray Coast The Tentallicon manor, just outside the local craftsmen districts and foundries, is purchased at some expense. Cheaper than most due to the smell of smelting iron wafting around the place, and the previous owner being desperate to sell. Though the Governor's escorts make the capital's gossips snicker, they are surprised to actually see Claudia become pregnant. This leads a number of people to reconsider their previous assumptions, but there are still plenty of rumours abound as such a spicy topic is unlikely to die anytime soon. Some more lurid rumours imply that Claudia's child was fathered by one of the manor's servants. The Esk Savannah The scouts travel far to the south, deep into monster-infested territory. What they spot is more of what they saw before--beasts attacking and eating one-another ravenously. Abandoned villages have become impromptu nests for the creatures, and their numbers swell their greatest there. The most alarming news from the scouts is that they spotted a third variety of beast. About the size of a village, covered in scales, and flying high in the air near the mountains to the far south. Some of the more paranoid soldiers claim that the massive creatures were watching them. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Events No sign of any old Kooks this year. It seems he's gone to ground due to the bounty on his head. Messages are sent to the Governor of Blightswamp and the Governor of Salathai! Rejoice! Missionaries (by the grace of the Governor of Tamaraad) will be arriving in their provinces next year! To bring the faith of Naei and the auspicious ancestors will require much work, and they are happy to receive any donations from the provincial authorities! A message is sent to the Governor of Aulus' March. Apparently it's been penned by a pirate.

942NE Joyous tidings for all that live within the empire--the Emperor has reached his 10th year! Much celebration around the whole empire (mostly), knowing that the Imperial succession is strong and secure! As a result, all Imperial funds sent to the provinces are halved due to the lavish celebration for their young liege taking priority. In other news, due to upkeep costs the First and Fourth Fleet are ceded to the governing authority of Aulus' March and Salathai respectively. To be used at the governor's whim in order to deal with the piracy problem. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Royal Highlands: The trip through the mountains is long and difficult, but these abandoned ports are sure to be discovered. What they find, however, is more than they bargained for. One of the old ports is as it was left, but utterly rotten and collapsing in on itself. The foundations could probably be salvaged, though. (10AP towards one port) The other port is a different story. It’s still occupied, but by pirates. About six shabby galleys and two biremes are anchored in the small harbour, and pirates mingle, eat, gamble, and drink far from the eyes of any Imperial authority. A few watchtowers on the surrounding hills keep an eye on any trespassers that come by land, but the pirates in them don’t seem too observant. The surveyors, luckily, managed to slip away before being spotted. The spies come back with some success. Due to the prevalence of banditry the criminals are hardly subtle about their occupation, especially when drinking. Before long, a dozen major bands are identified along the rubble of the old highway. They’re in the mountains, too. Tamaraad Coast: Those that are working the mines are proselytised to by a small division of priests that have made camp around the mine entrance. They have set up small shrines to Neia and remind all who are laying the foundations for the mines that the wealth extracted from the mountains is holy, and the will of the ancestors. While some of the workers try to ignore the deluge of prayers, blessings, and idols, most of the workers get into the spirit of things. One supposes that dull work is made easier by believing that it’s holy. Annor’s Crossroads: Scholars study old buildings, and work out some of the mathematics needed to set the angles and measure the dimensions. They’re still perplexed by much of the processes that bring about the shaped stone. ... and it still isn't working! Especially the timing! The clay pots break very easily, and the fuse is tricky to deal with. Although the explosive still has a long way to go, it's not as lethal as it was before. The Sorcerer’s Conclave in Altaire give their blessings for Annor’s Crossroads to continue their research into gunpowder weaponry. They will be observing their progress with interest. After so many years of running free, the bandits in the region have clearly gotten lazy. Some don’t even post lookouts around their camps. The bandits that resist are killed without mercy, with those captured being sent off to piteous, endless labours, chained up in textile workhouses. Their leaders decorate the roads with their fetid, rotting corpses as a warning to others. Though the bandits are yet to be wiped out completely, the rest are certainly more wary (Road improvements unlocked. See rules). Riviera: Inquiries into the amulet do catch some attention! But not from the sources the Governor was probably hoping for. A master sorcerer from the Conclave in Altaire informs Andronikos that he will be arriving at his home this year in order to take possession of the amulet. Notably, without compensation. He advises Andronikos not to "accidentally" lose it while he's on his way. He also mentions he's bringing along 20 elite Prophet's Guard to ensure easy transport back to the capital. Aulus’ March: Legate Orbus apologises to the governor, but expresses that he has no time to allow your soldiers to train with his legions. The Korvic warband over the collapsing falls has grown to 8,000 savage warriors, and Orbus has come to the conclusion that they may not actually collapse on their own this time. He is therefore moving supplies, having his soldiers perform drills, and doing a lot of very important war things. He requests that you send any provincial forces available to his rally point. Looks like you’ll be training those troops yourself! Blightswamp: And they find things. A surprising number of things. (Skype) Plains of Farlus: The cavalry are an excellent choice for hunting bandits, as most of the criminals can’t afford horses. The riders run them down without mercy on the flatlands. There is still work to do, but the roads can now at last be travelled (road improvements unlocked. See rules). There are a lot of mounds on the plains. The ones closest to the old highway appear to be picked clean of anything worth denarius. Most of the mounds were once ancient primitive graves, but others contained strange white stone. You mark out the ones that are pillaged or are simply regular hills, but it’s a large operation and may take a few years. Despite looking through taverns, local gathering spaces, and the usual criminal hotspots, no-one is willing to speak a word of grave-robbing. Some claim that they’re unsure what the words themselves mean! No-one’s talking, and the black market is silent. You might need to wait a while for them return to their practices. Baahzuth Jungles: The poor of the capital appreciate it, but there are so many poor and needy there that a thousand denarius barely causes much change in the daily life of the wretched. It’s still appreciated, and the citizens of the capital make note of it. (+1 Imperial Influence) Legate Pius returns covered in blood once more, this time with only 30 women and children bound in ropes. According to him, all the men, and some women and children violently resisted him. None of his men disagree with his statement. He also makes it known that he will not perform any more of the governor’s veiled slaving. If he desires something killed, he may call the legate, but from this point on all requests for “patrols” are being refused. Island of Salathai: The survey team returns in quick order. The mine has clear traces of iron, and a great number of human skeletons. They’re not sure what the skeletons are indicative of, but this mine WAS abandoned in the past. Perhaps it was raided in the past? (5AP invested in abandoned mine) (Gain 1 iron resource) A retired torturer from Morothai applies for the position. He apparently has an Imperial commendation for the most information gained from the least fingers removed. The pirate prisoners talk quickly, but aren’t too knowledgeable on the navigation of the ships themselves, but they often wait out the winter at an old fortified port on Oarsbrekk. They meet pirates from many bands in the port as well as it’s a major recruiting spot. Other than that, they live transitory lives on the sea and in hidden inlets like on Salathai, the Gray Coast, and Riviera. The absurdly rigorous and organised patrol route is executed. Though it’s a bit complicated for the newly-minted soldiers at first, after a few weeks on rotation it becomes routine for them. Dozens of bandits are killed on the first set of patrols, and the land is far more peaceful as a result (Road improvements unlocked. See rules). Gray Coast: The legate informs the First Governor that he has no right to authorize any invasion without the say-so of the Imperial Council. Though he certainly sees the benefit of removing that particular Korvic stain, he does not wish to hurt the position of his brother-in-law, who is currently angling for a position on the council as he speaks. If the Governor wishes to push the issue, he is welcome to petition the Imperial Council for it. Blackwoods: A very curious master sorcerer (and avid traveller) arrives with 20 Prophet’s Guard to look into the situation. He’ll investigate as the year goes on, curious about the mysterious disappearances. He takes the denarius immediately, and begins poking around villages and abandoned farms. He’ll sniff out anything magical occurring for sure (he’s also known for being quite the eccentric back at the capital). The infantry are dispatched along the roads and butcher slow and relatively lazy bandits. The miserly captives are strung up on crosses along the road, making a grizzly spectacle for those who pass by. Many, however, disappear into the thick woodlands without being caught by the armored soldiers. Despite the problems, the roads are now clear enough for both work and trade to continue relatively unmolested. (Road upgrades unlocked. See rules) Esk Savannah: (Taken from Skype, since Will’s a nerd and attending some kind of acronym conference) 20AP towards port. 5AP towards 1 cohort of light cavalry with veteran experience and T0 equipment. 5AP towards upgrading one stable to T2. 15AP towards 1 mercantile district. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Events: A toothless old kook is running about towns in Riviera, exclaiming to all who listen that there's "gold in them thar hills!" He invites anyone willing to come with him in order to gain an early chance at striking rich! There's something strange occurring down near the borders of Bahzuuth Jungles. Some unusual activity deep in the jungle... A Blackwoodsman runs into Elorna screaming about monsters!

941NE The dangers are many, but the empire's borders are still relatively quiet. Only a few nagging concerns are popping up here and there, but Imperial authorities seem mostly confident they can be dealt with. There are rumors spreading along the roads that the Trinnimecs are losing control of the Hearthlands. Small rebellions are popping up everywhere, and they can’t divide their attention between their Imperial possessions and the hordes of Korvics assaulting their northern frontiers. Having heard of a meeting among the Provincials, the Imperial Council has sent their secretary to observe. He will be awaiting at Annor's Crossroads with the Governors. The Gray Coast: The Legion’s legate receives the “logistical aid” with much appreciation. Searching through the trees of the Gray Coast reveals nothing worth using. Only certain trees are appropriate for ship building, and most of those on the Gray Coast are too thin for any major warship. (No lumber resources found) Much like the lumber search, the iron search turns up nothing. What tiny deposits of iron that are found aren’t worth the effort to dig out of the ground, let alone set up an actual mine. (No mineral deposits found) Provided that those iron shipments are well-guarded, it reaches Annor’s Crossroads without much harassment. Bandits tend to flee when there are soldiers around. No-one doubts the pedigree and lineage of the young man. It’s not the man that’s the problem to the people of the Capital--it’s the location. No-one of any real standing wants to move to the dirty provinces and especially not the dreary Gray Coast. Blightswamp: The filthy swampmen are ready and willing to serve as swampily as possible. They are concerned about the lack of weapons, but they‘re confident they can think of a way around small problems like that. Species of trees that grow in Blackwoods also grow in smaller numbers in the swamp. Many die before they reach maturity, but the rest are strong and firm. Royal Highlands: The workers of the Highlands dig deep into the gem-filled mountains, finding riches to please any red-cheeked merchant. There is still much work to be done, but with a little more labour, it might be finished by the conclusion of next year! The bands of soldiers are prepared to fight the rough-and-tumble trial of facing down the cowardly bandits that plague the roads. Maybe the light armour will prove useful when chasing them down...? The Blackwoods: Without a port on the lake, one would wonder how ships like that could be constructed. However, something changes in the fabric of reality as they are built. Clearly, some being from another dimension had not accounted for ships being built in a lake where a port would be a complete waste of resources. This mystical power of building ships without ports is unlocked for all peoples everywhere, but only galleys. Only galleys may be built without ports. The newly recruited soldiers would be a touch confused to be sent on patrol the same year they’re being trained. The governor’s advisers suggest allowing them to be fully trained before being released on to the dangerous roads. Aulus’ March: “But how,” asks one recruit, “are we meant to fight them when we haven’t been fully trained yet?” Such a question baffled the instructors, and they allowed them to continue their training until next year, when they would be ready. The news isn’t good from the scouts. The Korvics are still gathering, and clearly seem to have an element of organisation among them. Some are foraging, others hunting, and others are tanning leather and hammering new weapons at makeshift forges. The leaders of the various clans and tribes greet one-another like brothers when they arrive. Something is clearly brewing, here. Annor’s Crossroads: Talking to a few accountants, a couple of dock-workers, a few well-placed friends, and a second cousin of a second cousin, some documents disappear from the Imperial Library. Which documents? They’ve never heard of any "documents." No-one knows what you’re talking about. The resources in question are sent off to the debauched vineyards of Riviera. Outrageous! Hopefully they didn’t have to pay too much! Sure are a lot of confused recruits these days, huh? All of them are barely in their armor before launched into patrols! The new soldiers, like many others before them, beg to be allowed to finish their sword drills before being sent off to fight bandits! One cannot speak for the governors’ children, but the nobles of the capital aren’t particularly interested in sending their children off to the filthy, bandit-infested provinces just to get a chance at aligning themselves with poverty-stricken backwaters. Baahzuth Jungles: Hacking and smacking down jungle trees is tiring work, but much progress is made. New, fertile clearings are torn from the thick canopies. The savages in the south may not be pleased, however... Legate Pius returns from the jungles with bloodied armour and blade in hand. He and his soldiers drag behind them 100 savage women and children in ropes. No men are among the slaves, however. According to him, the male tribesmen “all resisted” and all his blood-covered soldiers agree with his testimony. The new slaves are ready to be taken wherever the governor pleases, much to Pius’ frustration. But, orders are orders... Tamaraad Coast: Initially, the surveyors and the builders ventured together towards the Sandshield Mountains. While resting at the site of the coming tomb, the workers shout their surprise as they dig into the mountainside. Glimmering yellow rocks barely beneath the surface of the stone bedazzle the labourers, and the surveyors recognise the substance to be gold. Local priests proclaim it as a miraculous sign of the ancestor’s favour, and that the Governor’s piety is absolute! Blessed be Silus! (+1 luxury resource [Gold]) Esk Savannah: The accountants of the Savannah inform the Governor that there aren’t enough horses to build further breeders. Perhaps it would be better to look into upgrading the ones already available? (15AP refunded—may use next turn) The Legate Somnus agrees and appreciates the co-ordination. He is especially thankful that the provinces have a element of autonomy, given the situation in the Savannah being what it is. He would be happy to have the new recruits fight alongside the legion troops, if they have the guts and gumption to face the southern beasts. Riviera: Dirty wine, from dirty money. Delicious, though. No resources of any worth are found in the mountains. After centuries of habitation, one would have thought someone else would have found something here. However, the prospectors did come across something else... A pile of oddly-shaped white stones with a vague resemblance to bricks stands out on the green, verdant mountainside. Curious, they move the stones aside, and discover an unusual stone amulet. At least, they think its stone. The amulet feels warm and cold simultaneously, and patterns etched into its surface morph and change depending on the angle in which one looks at it. Peering at it for too long gives them headaches, but they bring the discovery back to the Governor regardless. Perhaps they will gain favour by presenting it to him? Dirty dealings by a dirty boy make dirty girls cry screams of joy! Plains of Farlus: Some “magical” trinkets are presented to the sorcerers, all of them are fakes brought forth by opportunistic peasants trying to score easy denarius. Half of them aren’t even convincing, and the rest are supported by wild claims of ‘fixing baldness’ or ‘curing cows from the ‘pox!’ The edict is well-received by the law-abiding people of the Plains. In fact, it arrives just in time for a certain charlatan to attempt an escape! The people watch happily as the man who attempted to fool the Governor is whipped publically. They are sure this will not occur again. The black market has gone to ground since the governor’s edict went out. They aren’t interested in being punished, and see every invitation or interest as a possible trap by law enforcement. There won’t be any dealing in the near future, that’s for sure. Island of Salathai: A party of surveyors are sent off to investigate the mine, but after a week with no contact, people are beginning to get worried. (Skype) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Events A toothless kook from the mountains of the Gray Coast is ranting and raving about "gold in them thar hills!" He claims of riches awaiting those who journey into the deeper parts of the mountains... The Korvics massing across from the Collapsing Falls in Aulus' March have risen in number from 2000, to 4000 warriors. The Korvics massing on the border of Blightswamp left their position heading East. Perhaps they had never intended to raid the swamp at all? The priests of the Tamaraad Coast wish to speak with the governor on a matter most holy in nature!

The Year is 940NE The beginning of a new, terrible year. Relatively speaking though, the Empire is surprisingly peaceful in terms of conflict. Most Korvics beyond Aulus' March seem content to remain in their filth-covered hovels, and major raiders from all foreign belligerents are eerily silent. It's the perfect year to farm one's crops, start a business, or be robbed by domestic bandits. The Imperial Council continues to refuse handing direct command of the Imperial legions to the provinces for whatever bureaucratic reason, and they continue to squabble among themselves for the ever-decreasing amount of pie available in the capital territories. Considering the state of the provinces though, something clearly must be done. They bit the Governors of the provinces to the holy city of Altaire to meet in the Old Palace for the formation of the 'Provincial Council,'--a new organising body for the territories beyond the capital. It would be unwise to defy them. Banditry is currently making most overland trade impossible, with the exception of armed convoys. Events: A small group of Korvic boats are seen traversing the lake that borders the Blackwoods. The scouts lost sight of them when they entered a cloud of the lake's morning fog. Who knows where they might be now...? Korvics are noted to be gathering in suspiciously large numbers North of Blightswamp, according to the denizens of local forts and swamp-folk. They are nearly 500 strong at this point, and more are trickling in from the surrounding landscape. -One of the Gray Coast's iron mines has suddenly stopped sending shipments or messages. An accountant for Riviera's tax collectors has been found taking money off the top of the collections and keeping it for himself! Scandalous! Since he was high-ranking, it is determined that the governor should decide his fate (when he gets back home). A toothless kook from the hills surrounding Annor's Crossroads is ranting and raving about "gold in them thar hills!" He claims of riches awaiting those who journey into the deeper parts of the mountains. A shabby-looking man has approached the Sorcerer's Academy in the Royal Highlands to sell a "magical amulet" he found in the Plains of Farlus. As the Sorcerers wish to improve their standing with the governor, they offer the amulet to him after they appraise it. Korvics are gathering in the circular valley just beyond the collapsing falls. Korvics have always been fairly populous here, but this is clearly the beginnings of a large-scale raiding force. Their numbers have swelled to 2000 warriors already, with more pouring in from the eastern reaches... A spectacular specimen of a horse has been presented to the Governor's department of the Plains of Farlus. Apparently it's an Esk thoroughbred. The owner is willing to sell it, if the Governor desires it. The poorly-disciplined sailors of the Fourth Fleet instigated a fight with some locals on Salathai. Long story short, a tavern was burned down, and now the Islanders demand justice... A swarm of ravenous beasts are attacking livestock in the southern part of the Esk Savannah. Almost 50 of them, in fact. A drunken man approaches a guard post near a gravesite on the Tamaraad coast, insisting he's been attacked by a skeleton. Barbarous tribesmen are harassing the spice-farmers in the Baahzuth Jungles! The spice-farmers are complaining that they aren't being properly protected by the legion, there. (These little events won't be happening for everyone every year, but I decided to give you all a taste for your first turn ? ) You may post your actions and RP as you see fit, provided that your AP spending is very clear. I don't deal well with vague stuff.

Thanks for all the interest, guys! Here's hoping that this game lasts more than three turns, hey? Final choices for factions: 1. Blightswamp: Zanderaw 2. Blackwoods: Samoblivion 3. The Gray Coast: Bickando 4. Riviera: Hellfiazz 5. Annor's Crossroads: Praetor 6. Royal Highlands: Seannie 7. Aulus March: Devland99 8. Plains of Farlus: Sneaky2 9: Island of Salathai: Sir_Loin 10. Esk Savannah: Will (TauFireWarrior) 11. Tamaraad Coast: Godwein Stafyr (Zer^4%23) 12. Baahzuth Jungles: Taketheshot For those who didn't get in, I'm really sorry. Shoot me a message and we'll see about something else we can have you do a little later if you're still interested. ?

Thanks for the interest, guys! I'll be posting my choices later tonight or tomorrow morning AEST. It will give people who are interested a bit more time to work on their posts. Like I said, there are only twelve places so to anyone I can't let in, I'm sorry.

The Rise (AKA, Mith's FRP) The Altairean Empire--once a preeminent power, now withered beyond recognition. Amidst crumbling roads and eroded statues a great power once rose and dominated the known world. Having reached its zenith, instability, greed, corruption, plague, and invasion reduced its power to a petty nation of bureaucrats, generals, politicians, merchants, and an infant Emperor. All vie for influence in the dusty capital--their chaotic leadership guiding Altaire slowly toward oblivion. You, however, are not some capital-bound citizen. You are a governor of an Imperial province with ambitions, goals, and desires that extend further than the next year. After a thousand disasters and broken armies, the Altairean Empire has just barely held together in its west-most territories. Having lost the capital Neia, the Imperial Council and bureaucracy has relocated to the ancient capital and religious center of the Empire, Altaire. Plagues, banditry, pirates, and the erosion of infrastructure have drained the empire of citizens, resources, and coin. Now that peace has finally been secured, the citizens pray to their ancestors for stability and prosperity. Has the Nightmare Era come to an end, or is this the preamble for the next disaster to come? Only time will tell... -------------------------------------------------------------- Choosing Your Province There are twelve provinces to choose from, and all are in a uniquely terrible state. Ravaged by decades of corruption and poor management, they have finally stabilized in their stagnancy. With conditions the way they are, things can only get better (probably)! All provinces - though they may be separated by mountains or sea - are all influenced by the same culture at base. The Altairean Empire is very clearly based on ancient Rome (specifically late-Rome), so keep that in mind as you build your provincial identity. I’ll give you plenty of creative license for it, but if I feel it veers a little too far from Roman-ish culture I’ll have to ask you to change it. I hope that doesn’t upset any RP purists! The religion of Altaire (the one cultural totem I’ll actually describe in any detail) is that of ‘Neaism,’--an ancestor-worshipping faith that places importance on family and appeasing the spirits of the dead. All homes have small shrines to their deceased family, with long lists of names that go back centuries. Neai herself is considered the first ancestor of all Altaireans, and is therefore universally worshiped in temples and public shrines. Figures of great importance or achievement will often have their own public shrine if their deeds are worthy of it. The city of Altaire itself is a chaotic mess of religious edifices--some so old and decrepit the names of the ancestors can no longer be recognized. The dogged priests will give offerings to appease the nameless dead regardless, with rotting food, flowers, and burning incense creating a strange smell that most shrine-goers will find familiar wherever they travel. Practitioners of Neaism can be highly superstitious and see purpose in every tragedy and joy. Also, keep in mind this excerpt from the timeline: “The huge swathe of problems facing the empire turn out to be too daunting for Scipicus to contend with, thus he reorganizes the western holdings into a series of “provinces” controlled by his most loyal commanders and councillors.” It has been 15-20 years since that decree. Your governor may still be the same loyal supporter from the last (adult) Emperor. The Empire's timeline: (A stupidly long read, sorry) https://docs.google.com/document/d/1kyoecDWXd6Wmz1l5sSb_LXqjQH0nV-nz2J9PIGSmtiI/edit The Rules: (Not as long, I promise) https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jTX9bMjujF8jfIZIffItvczmIybf3oVC6l0vUIHOS8M/edit Reference Maps: Available Provinces Players may apply for one province. If two players apply for the same province then it will come down to who was first to apply/the quality of their post. There are only twelve spots, so no reservations! (I apologize for the state of this map. My current map-boy is currently working as a prostitute in Belgium, and can't fix his egregious errors) 1. Blightswamp A disgusting, fetid, disease-ridden swamp. Only recently retaken from the Korvics, the wood in the swamp was far less useful than the scouts originally believed. Sparsely populated and dirt-poor, most of its current people only remain because they can’t afford to go anywhere else. Due to bureaucracy and stubbornness, the Imperial Council refused to abandon it, and handed it off to some unlucky governor. Population: 300,000 citizens Engineering Level: Tier 2 Resources: 1x Tier 1 Lumberyard 25AP in farmlands 25AP in mercantile district Miscellaneous: A large abandoned town wiped out by disease, and a stronghold for death-cult activity during the great plague. Unusual white stone formations that vaguely resemble ruins. Imperial Forces Present: 2000 Imperial Soldiers, housed within 4 wooden forts. 2. The Blackwoods Dark, eerie forests, with excellent lumber and wary people. Like Blightswamp, it was only recently retaken from the Korvics and now serves as the primary source of wood for warships. However, the thick canopy hides frightening secrets. Peasants are known to disappear in the thick fog, and some lakeside farms are found suspiciously abandoned--their former occupants nowhere to be seen... Population: 450,000 citizens Engineering Level: Tier 2 Resources: 2x Tier 1 Lumber-yards 50AP in farmlands Miscellaneous: Things in the woods, perhaps? Imperial Forces Present: 3000 Imperial soldiers, housed within 2 stone forts. 3. The Gray Coast Cold, windy coastlines with rocky beaches and craggy gray hills. Known for its bleak appearance and huge sources of iron, the Gray Coast is otherwise of little note. Despite its lackluster appearance, the area is a favorite spot for Korvic sea raids from the nearby islands, which encourages the Imperial army to have a large presence in the area. Population: 450,000 citizens Engineering Level: Tier 2 Resources: 2x Tier 2 Mines (iron) 25AP in farmlands Imperial Forces Present: Headquarters for the Second and Third Legion. 10,000 soldiers are housed within two stone fortresses, a stone fort, and a wooden fort. 4. Riviera The cultural and economic heartland beyond the capital. The province of wine, art, and adultery, Riviera is the land of the wealthy provincial elite. Rolling, green hills are covered with countless ancient vineyards and the wealth of centuries is on display to any visitor. Though the place is starting to look terribly dilapidated, as there are no experts who can repair the myriad of crumbling monuments. Population: 750,000 citizens Engineering Level: Tier 1 Resources: 1x tier 1 luxury manufactory (wine) 75AP in mercantile districts 100AP in Ports Miscellaneous: Unusual white stone formations that vaguely resemble ruins. Imperial Forces Present: 4500 Imperial soldiers, quartered in three stone forts. 5. Annor’s Crossroads Flat, grassy valleys surrounded by mountains, with a well-traveled highway cutting through it. Notable for having nothing to do with King Annor, the crossroads have been a centre-point in overland trade since the empire’s height. Though its expertise and grandeur diminished significantly during the Nightmare Era, the greatest armourers and weaponsmiths outside the capital make their home here. Population: 600,000 citizens Engineering Level: Tier 2 Resources: 50AP in mercantile districts Tier 3 Military Foundry Imperial Forces Present: 2500 Imperial soldiers, quartered in one stone fort, and two wooden forts. 100 handgunners. 6. Royal Highlands A mountainous region home to a number of beautiful and rare minerals popular among aristocrats and the well-to-do. The area is mostly known for having the only Sorcerer's Academy outside the capital. The province has never been a wealthy one, though, and specialists have always shied away from the lonely peaks. Population: 500,000 citizens Engineering Level: Tier 1 Resources: 1x Luxury Resource (gemstones) 25AP in Mercantile District Tier 2 Sorcerer Academy Miscellaneous: Two ruined ports abandoned during the Nightmare Era. Imperial Forces Present: 1500 Imperial soldiers quartered within three wooden forts. 7. Aulus’ March A mountainous region that suffered greatly during the barbarous Korvic invasions, and is heavily fortified as a result. Korvic raids are common, and the mountain paths are covered in abandoned huts and villages. Though it has little in the way of natural resources, the port and iron mine provide a small income for the impoverished locals. The most notable aspects of this province are the unique defences, and the headquarters of the famous First Fleet. Population: 550,000 citizens Engineering Level: Tier 2 Resources: 50AP in port. 1x tier 1 mine (iron) Imperial Forces Present: Headquarters for the First, Fourth, and Fifth Legion, and the Headquarters for the First Fleet. 15,000 soldiers spread between Aulus Citadel and two fortresses. 1 quadrireme, 6 triremes, 9 biremes, and 5 galleys. 8. Plains of Farlus Very plain, with horses and farms being the most prominent source of wealth. Every now and then some lucky farmer plows one of the many unusual hills that dot the landscape and accidentally break into a prehistoric tomb. Collectors prize the trinkets from here, but sorcerers always have legal right to seize them if they deem them to have magical properties. Other than a thriving black-market in ancient trinkets, little else is of note. Population: 450,000 citizens Engineering Level: Tier 1 Resources: 1x tier 1 Horse Breeder 50AP in farmlands. Sorcerers. Miscellaneous: Strange mounds on the planes, possibly brimming with treasure. Possibly. A large abandoned town wiped out by disease and a stronghold for death-cult activity during the great plague. Imperial Forces Present: 1000 Imperial soldiers quartered in two wooden forts. 9. Island of Salathai Fiercely independent and often instigating independence movements around the empire. Conquered bloodlessly centuries ago the Salathai has never truly been subjugated, and uprisings are common as a result. With the second largest port in the Azure sea, the Island is the headquarters of the dilapidated and poorly disciplined Fourth Fleet. The island lost much of its industrial capabilities during the Nightmare Era, and is only now recovering. Population: 500,000 citizens Engineering Level: Tier 2 Resources: 25AP in farmlands 25AP in mercantile district 50AP in port Miscellaneous: Abandoned mine deep inland. Unusual white stone formations that vaguely resemble ruins. Imperial Forces Present: 4000 Imperial Soldiers quartered in 2 stone forts and 2 wooden forts. Fourth Fleet headquarters with 4 Triremes, 6 biremes, and 10 galleys. 10. Esk Savannah Home of the swiftest horses, the hottest days, and the most dangerous wildlife around. In recent days, creatures have been crawling out of the southern mountains and destroying villages, eating livestock, and killing anyone foolish enough to get lost. The garrison here is entirely mounted and ride across the auburn grasslands to meet their foes. It appears to be a losing battle, however, as every season even more monsters crawl north, with only a withering force to stop them. Population: 400,000 citizens Engineering Level: Tier 2 Resources: 25AP in farmland 2x tier 1 horse breeders. Miscellaneous: Big, bad beasts in the south. Very dangerous. Imperial Forces Present: 4000 Imperial soldiers quartered in 1 stone fort, and 5 wooden forts. 11. The Tamaraad Coast The flashpoint for many wars, and the graveyard of countless Imperial fallen. Though it’s known for its bountiful farmland it also sports a large port for trade and sends wheat to all corners of the Empire. Considered Altaire’s breadbasket for centuries, the Tamaraad coast is one of the most important Imperial possessions, and has its own dedicated legion as a result. Population: 700,000 citizens Engineering Level: Tier 2 Resources: 100AP in farmland 50AP in port Miscellaneous: Graves, fields of bleached bones, and shipwrecks litter the landscape of the coast. Imperial Forces Present: The Sixth Legion and a number of auxiliaries make their headquarters here. 6000 Imperial soldiers are quartered in a grand fortress. 12. Baahzuth Jungles Despite having been conquered for centuries, the province remains mostly untamed. Had the wood been useful for ship-building, it might have been far more civilised. Luxurious and unique plants are this place's selling point, but it’s plagued by southern tribesmen and dangerous wildlife. Population: 300,000 citizens Engineering Level: Tier 1 Resources: 1x Tier 1 Luxury manufactories (spices) 25AP in mercantile district Miscellaneous: Abandoned forts built during the Dominion Era are rumoured to be within the jungle. Imperial Forces Present: 1000 Imperial soldiers quartered in two wood forts. Application: Skype: Province of choice: Governor (Their name, and a little personal history): Your Provincial Culture: A Unique Military Unit for your Province (You should read the mechanics before you decide): Suggestions?:

Hephpoos Enprisses Our Latest Deals! https://docs.google.com/document/d/1IQJeTQiyG8AzmMHG9hMQOZ18_TWYNt_--FXEm9W0bPk/edit MORE! MORE! MORE! Of all the human nations to conquer them, why did it have to be the Corporations? Hans Weist was only twelve years old, but he already understood misery, fear, and pain. He had watched the quantum feed of Armathwaite warships gliding through FCA territory just prior to the government's capitulation. They had so many ships--far more than his people did. What hurt most was that the central government surrendered almost immediately, and agreed to almost every demand. Hans could remember his father ranting about how they could have held the planets themselves if only they had the chance to fight. What did the Corporations know about fighting, anyway? Maybe the whole thing was a bluff? He felt so lost while he walked the familiar streets of his town. His face, though, mirrored that of many others. Cafes and parks were filled with morose former-citizens as they awaited the end of their nation. They had been abandoned by their leaders, and left to the unregulated future of free-market capitalism... Today was officially the end of the truce, and his world would come under the jurisdiction of "Hephaestus Enterprises." This grasping, opportunistic corporation was rumoured to be the one that planned the annexation, and the people knew it well. No-one trusted the information booklets and friendly smiles of the representatives sent here. A few of the local businesses were notably curious, though. Traitors. Hans kicked a rock down the quiet streets and kept his eyes firmly up at the sky. There was only thirty minutes left of freedom--he looked towards the town hall and wondered what Hephaestus flags would look like. However, something grabbed his attention out of the corner of his eye. There was a trio of people talking amongst one-another quietly in a less populated cafe. Hans could tell they were foreigners immediately. They were speaking in a mix of German and Firstborn, but they way they held themselves, their excited whispers, and strange clothes tipped him off. He could practically hear them as they hissed their whispers. "... Christ, German is hard, guys. Why doesn't everyone just speak Firstborn like on Citidel?" "We need to practice. You'd be smart not to mention the Citidel by the way, Vic. The bigger execs think twice about hiring if you're praising a competitor. Our boss would be giving you **** for it, too." "Have you guys tasted this coffee?! I think it's actually real!" "You serious? Bloody hell, we need to stick around and ****** this place up as soon as-..." One of the strangers made eye contact with Hans, smiled nervously, and cajoled his comrades into examining his cup of coffee very, very quietly. Something was wrong, here. Hans continued down the street to the lush, green park. The colony had been placed in a perfectly temperate zone, where plants from Utopie were showcased for the public. The gardens were somewhat overgrown-- perhaps the gardeners hadn't bothered coming to work that week? Two men in police uniforms stood next to the inactive water fountain, quietly chatting and shaking their heads while periodically looking up to the sky. "Hey," Hans shouted as he ran up to the officers. "There are some weird guys sitting in a cafe talking about coffee and 'snatching' things! I think they're criminals!" The two officers looked at one-another with a pained expression, and sighed. "Yeah, we've got a few reports of that. Don't worry about it, kid." Hans looked dumbfounded. "But... they could be thieves!" "No," one of the officers shook his head wearily. "They're foreign buyers. I'd tell you more, but, er..." The two officers looked at one-another again, and shook their heads. "Well, according to our new contracts we aren't allowed to reveal that information, otherwise we'll be..." "...sacked." Completed the second officer. The both of them turned away from Hans and went back to looking between their data-pads and the sky. Miserably, Hans trudged away from the park, and drooped into a bench outside the town hall. Everything was already changing. The police officers weren't arresting criminals, strange people were muttering to one-another in shops, and soon the stupid Corporation was going to take a big, oily **** on the colony (according to his dad, anyway). What could he do? What could anyone do? His chest heaved, and his eyes began to well up from tears. "Does something trouble you, young one?" A Protorian woman slowly walked up to his bench, and sat down next to him gently. Protorians were the nigh-ageless people who had first encountered his people back when they were still a tiny colony on the capital world. There was something calming about their presence, and their wisdom could make even the greatest of pessimists shine with optimism. "Oh, it's just like, the whole world is going to change. What's going to happen to us? I guess I'm scared," Hans sniffed. A soothing smile spread across the woman's face as she placed her hand on his shoulder. "Change is inevitable, child. Fearing change would be as if to fear the coming of the dawn. If you baulk and cry at every new idea or way of life, how will you master your future? You must accept change, and conquer it." Hans wiped his eyes, and nodded. But as he did, plumes of wind cascaded about the park throwing the trees and plants around wildly. A bright, burning light heralded a great ship descending through the atmosphere. A vast thing, the size of two battleships, ripped through the clouds and fell towards the ground. A roar from powerful fusion thrusters slowed its decent and windows clattered at the shock-waves and sound. "When adversity comes, we adapt to it. We make plans." The Protorian continued to speak as if the ship was not barreling towards the earth. Hans could feel the heat from its engines, and he could spy the white-and-blue Hephaestus Enterprises logo emblazoned on the ship's side. "Even one as young as you can take steps to ensuring your future." The craft landed several miles outside of town, and Hans could feel the ground tremble as it landed in the millet fields, throwing up clouds of dust and dirt into the sky. "In such uncertain times, have you considered speaking to your parents about opening a trust-fund, child?" The Protorian's smile changed to a toothy, cheery grin. "One has pamphlets that may enlighten you upon this subject." She carefully placed a number of colourful papers in his lap as Hans looked on in confusion. "Seek out First Aurora Bank. Request services within the coming week, and receive 25% off McPhaestus meals, courtesy of your friends at First Auroran Bank!" Hans looked to the enormous ship that now dominated the skyline. Other smaller vessels were descending upon the colony like flies flittering around a corpse. Change was crashing down on the heads of everyone in the colony. And as much as he hated Hephaestus, they were now the ones in charge. He didn't have the energy to be furious like his father, and he was sick of wallowing in despair. Hans wondered how good the McPhaestus sandwiches were. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hrud Khazar began his pre-combat stretches with satisfied grunts. His advancing age made these exercises necessary to avoid pulling muscles or getting hernias. The old Redon gleefully cracked his knuckles as the data-slugs of Cooper & Sons Droid Foundries fiddled with their computers and optimised his latest opponent. The strange suit the engineers made him wear during these little bouts chafed beneath his armpits, but it was the only way to accurately analyse his movements. This is how they were 'training' their combat droids--by attacking them over and over again until they had "learned" how to adapt to a wide variety combat situations. It was the bluntest method of programming he'd ever witnessed, and he loved it. "Come now, you lot. I yearn for a bout with your newest tin soldier!" Hrud laughed. "I trust you didn't program it to fear its next beating?" The old Warmaster swung his laser-blade around experimentally, testing its weight and warming up his shoulder muscles. This was the eighth unit he would be personally facing. The five trainers that were hired by Hephaestus were all involved in these fights as per their contract. It had become a sort of game between them to swap tips and discuss the most effective fighting styles. The Tassaran trainer had warned of Hrud's favourite blind spot being removed earlier that week. The fight would be a bit more interesting, now. "We're almost ready to begin, Mr Khazar," spoke one of the engineers and snapping Hrud out of his thoughts. "If you'll step over to your side we'll begin the activation sequence." The old Redon flexed his shoulders one last time, and stood in his assigned spot while he watched the familiar form of the Myrmidon whirr into life. They had added a few new armour plates to its shoulders, but they kept the silly cape for whatever reason. The metal of the machine was blackened and dented with scorch marks from its many duels. As per usual, the trainers were given laser-swords while the unit received its twin-bladed stun-staff. A solid strike could knock an opponent out, but that hadn't happened yet. The machine marched into position with fluid grace it had no right to have, and stood in its position silently facing Hrud. He could feel its cold, lifeless eyes examining his every movement, which was the least enjoyable part of the duel honestly. "Alright, combat sequence beginning in 3... 2... 1..." The droid tapped its staff on the ground twice, and two metallic prangs echoed throughout the chamber. Hrud's question was answered by an engineer before he had a chance to ask. "We're ah, not too sure why it does that. It's not getting in the way of anything though, so..." He trailed off as he looked closer at the monitors and talking quietly to another engineer. Hrud raised his sword and put himself into his combat stance, but was surprised to see the droid do the same. Usually they waited until the count ended, but it seemed to be adapting to that as well. "Combat sequence engaged!" called the scientist, though it wasn't as if Hrud needed that confirmation. The droid shifted its weight to its front foot, and lowered itself for balance, however it did not attack. This was again unusual, as the Myrmidons he'd faced before advanced on him aggressively. It merely pointed its staff in Hrud's direction, and stood still. The droid was about fifteen feet away from him, and both of them were in defensive stances. It was now up to the old battlemaster to make the first move. He took a step to the right and was surprised to see the Myrmidon mimic his movement precisely, keeping the same distance from him as before. Hrud smirked, "where are you going, my friend? Are you not as pleased as I with the bout?" The droid, obviously, didn't answer. Hrud enjoyed teasing his opponents even if they were machines. It made him feel like he was back in the field against the Protorians. Those were the days... Out of curiosity, he lifted his blade above his head in readiness to strike downward, and the Myrmidon matched his movement again by raising its staff upward. Was this version simply going to be on the defensive the whole fight? He turned towards the engineers and shrugged. "Are you sure you didn't program this thing to fear m-" He caught the sound of the machine's metallic steps just in time to duck a slash aimed for his head, and a follow-up towards his chest. He jumped away as the droid quickly advanced on him, giving no time for Hrud to steady himself. The machine wasn't being defensive, it was waiting for an opening. Hrud had learned early in these fights that it wasn't effective to parry the Myrmidon's blows. Droids had no stamina to lose, and contesting strength with a machine was pure folly. The best way to fight them was to move with their strikes and redirect what you couldn't dodge. He ducked under the droid's arm as it levelled another strike, and he slashed at its armoured abdomen. The droid twisted its arm around and parried his strike, forcing him to rapidly distance himself. He was still on the defensive in this fight, but he was slowly gaining back the inertia. He just needed to find an opening in its ceaseless attacks. The droid's aggressive hounding was unending, and Hrud was already getting tired. He jumped back again to avoid the crackling electrical edge of the stun staff as the droid swung it at him again and again. Suddenly, the droid nimbly hopped forward with the staff aimed towards Hrud's midsection with a clear desire to (hypothetically) skewer him. Its full weight and balance was in this strike, and the old Battlemaster finally saw his opportunity. Mustering all his strength, he went against his own instincts and slashed upward at the stun-staff. With a flurry of sparks, the staff was knocked away and the droid's unusual grace was broken. It stumbled slightly, finally giving Hrud the opening he needed. He brought the blade down towards the machine's armoured shoulder with all his strength, and he could feel the searing heat from the rapidly superheating metal. He rammed his foot into the droid's knee, and kicked it hard, giving his blade a sharp tug. With sparks and globules of molten metal flying everywhere, the droid's left arm was torn off as it collapsed to the ground. Hrud breathed heavily as he watched the lanky metallic warrior squirm and twitch on the floor. His panting turned to wheezing laughter while he straightened himself and walked towards the engineers with outstretched arms. "Another of your iron warriors falls before a wrinkled soldier! I had thought it would be a challenge!" Two metallic prangs echoed throughout the chamber, as the damaged droid slowly pulled itself upwards and pointed its staff towards Hrud with its remaining, functioning arm. Just as before, it stood motionless and waited for him to make the first move. The old battlemaster looked as if he aged another decade. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Action Points 4AP by default, 28AP from trade, 15AP from population, 25AP from sectors, 36AP from business, 26AP from industry, 2AP from the Trade Federation, 6AP from cargo capacity, 8AP from itoron mines, 4AP from dialite 25AP from ??? 27AP from Redskap 36AP from Human Republic? (Tyras/Slav nation) Total = 242AP BONUSES:-Ravenous Industrialism: -5AP off industry investments, +25% manufacturing output. -National Idea, Peace: 2% extra growth on primary population. -1AP from ship upkeep. -There are orders, there are big orders, and then there are beleaguered-nations-in-a-desperate-war orders. The largest order for military hardware ever given to any human nation comes courtesy of the Zyrka. So large is the order that the factory subsidiaries are at first confused as to how they can produce it. But with a little creative accounting, some clever engineering, a lot of triple-time, and 24-hour work-cycles, combat droids begin pouring out of the manufacturing districts like a metal, gun-toting river. Every warehouse from Hades to Aurora will be filled to capacity with affordable combat solutions! (-1515AP towards the construction of 10,000,000 combat droids for Zyrka) -The shipyards above Aurora and Hades churn out yet further MOVING MEGA-MARTS. When will it end, I ask you?! (When there's 20 of them, probably) (-50AP towards five MOVING MEGA-MARTS) -Tired and sick of constant production blocks during the MEGA-MART construction cue, the Aurora Astro (TM) requests permission to expand their shipyard yet again! The Board agrees with this assessment, and allocates an inordinate amount of funds to the project. (-80AP towards upgrading Aurora Shipyard to T7) -So many orders for armaments this year, much to the joy of the manufacturing subsidiaries across Hades and Grand Ares! -The Human Republic orders 66,000 C6 Soldier 'bots and an accompaniment of 8250 Paladin mechs! (-30AP) -The Commonwealth of Redskap chooses (wisely) to build their arms at Hephaestus! 82,500 sets of Redskap laser weapons, 2475 Redskap tanks, and 990 pieces of field artillery trundle off the production line (-22AP) -A third order comes in, but for whatever reason prefers to remain anonymous. 173,250 units of laser infantry equipment are produced, and discretely sent off. (-21AP) -The swarmer missiles used by most FEZ members are at this point criminally outmoded by most missile systems currently in use by other nations. Funds are allocated towards improvements. (-20AP) -One light cruiser and one destroyer are ordered for construction (-9AP) -The newly acquired FCA colonies need to be incorporated deeply into the firm, moist, bosom of Corporate law. All coveted information is presented to the new administration, so that no suspicions may be aroused by colonial roobs. Quite a few HERMES agents are sent over to smooth over the next Acquisition Frenzy. They try to keep things civil this time, to avoid chaos. (-10AP towards stabilizing the newly acquired FCA colonies in Hephaestus space) -Along with the HERMES agents, 5000 enforcers and 10,000 Tithonus droids are sent to each colony to both retrain and reorganise the local law enforcement and to enforce Corporate rule. Can't have the new employees jeopardizing their opportunities! (-0AP) -8250 Tithonus combat droids are manufactured and sent to Asgard. (-1AP)

haphpoos enpris Our Blockades are Perfectly Legal!* *Terms and conditions apply. Our Latest Deals: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1IQJeTQiyG8AzmMHG9hMQOZ18_TWYNt_--FXEm9W0bPk/edit The mantle of CEO is officially passed to John Penrith upon his return to Corporate space. Steven Penrith declined to comment on his decision to step down from his position, other than remarking that he was "bloody sick of it." Employees within the tower claim Steven's advanced age and deteriorating health made him unable to properly manage day-to-day affairs. It's unlikely he'll be seen outside of the HCAC building any time soon, though many still remain confident the ancient patriarch of Hephaestus will return to public life after some rest and recuperation. In a surprise move by John Penrith early this year, the Corporate fleets of the FEZ were organised and dispatched to FCA space in order to "judicially reorganise" the colonies. The straight-out annexation of the territories was halted after negotiations with the FCA leadership, allowing a portion of their population the right to leave the central galaxy. Talks with the surrounding xeno empires began the moment John was given the CEO position, and the FEZ was given full approval and recognition to annex the territory and secure the central galaxy from further conflict. With the invasion and subsequent blockades deemed perfectly legal, the young John Penrith is clearly more aggressive than his predecessor, and his future plans will be difficult to predict. The DROIDS V DRONES: COMBAT ARENA EXPERIENCE is preparing for the great match! Due to interested parties outside of the State of Terra and Hephaestus, the organisers choose to expand the arena further, adding in powerful deflector shields, more cameras, and an oversized quantum-communications array so the galaxy may tune in at their leisure! Robotics manufacturers are encouraged to pit their creations against their rivals in a grand brawl! Hephaestus plans to provide plenty of Tithonus droids for their guests to trash! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Action Points: 4AP by default, 16AP from trade (due to trade blocks) 12AP from population, 22AP from sectors, 28AP from business, 24AP from industry, 2AP from the Trade Federation, 6AP from cargo capacity, 8AP from itoron mines, 4AP from dialite 20AP from Czar magic 8AP from Agerian Commonwealth Total = 154AP BONUSES:-Ravenous Industrialism: -5AP off industry investments, +25% manufacturing output. -National Idea, Peace: 2% extra growth on primary population. -1AP from ship upkeep. -Something new rumbles in the churning bowels of the industrial giant. Huge ships are being prepared at the Hephaestus shipyards above Aurora and Hades, but these ships are unlike any yet seen. The previous MOVING MEGA-MARTS were deemed too small by John Penrith, and they did not inspire anything particularly close to "mega" in his imagination. These new ones will dwarf dreadnoughts and will be filled with every product that can be acquired by the corporation. Hephaestus is now officially coming to you! (-50AP towards five MOVING MEGA-MARTS) -A huge advertising campaign is launched by Hephaestus. They seem to primarily focus on the upcoming DROIDS V DRONES: COMBAT ARENA EXPERIENCE and the MOVING MEGA-MARTS! Also, there are so many fantastic bargains at Hephaestus right now! The deluge of ads seem unusually timed, though. It could be that the Corporation is attempting to distract the general public from the recent hostile takeover of the FCA colonies--but how can you care about that when you can get Instant-Blabl for only 0.99 HEcreds a packet?! These prices are simply unbeatable! (-40AP towards business) -"CLANG." -Industrial Investment, circa 2157 (-20AP towards industry) -Refinements are made to the many droids currently in the works. It's hoped that the Myrmidon will be fully prepared for the arena early next year! (-20AP towards droids) -There's a little space left in the corporate shipyards, so a few new warships are tossed into the construction cue for good measure. (-10AP for 1 corvette, 1 frigate, and 1 light cruiser) -Improvements to the arena are made before the great event arrives! Extra protection, extra droids, extra cameras, and extra everything else. This will be one hell of a fight, to be sure! (-7AP towards the DROIDS V DRONES: COMBAT ARENA EXPERIENCE) -An order of droids is put in production for the Agerian Commonwealth. 19,800 Tithonus Droids, and 4800 X1 droids are manufactured and shipped to the pleasant farmers! (-6AP)

Do you fear capitalism? You shouldn’t! Capitalism objectively creates better living standards, greater outcomes, and so much more! Do you fear prosperity? You shouldn’t! Prosperity gives your family a better life, puts dollars in your pocket, and makes the world so much more beautiful! Do you fear progress? You shouldn’t! Progress brings innovative new products, more ways to connect with others, and beautiful, pure liberty for all. Who hates progress? Tyrants—if they cannot control you through the state’s institutions how will they control your ideas? Who hates prosperity? Tyrants—if they cannot control you through poverty entitlements how will they blackmail you into supporting them? Who hates capitalism? Tyrants—if they cannot control business how will they control where your money is spent? So, let’s be logical here. If you hate the FEZ, you hate progress, you hate capitalism, and you hate prosperity. But most of all, you hate happiness! -Excerpt from an infomercial about the benefits of FEZ membership, circa 2157. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Attention all citizens of the Frontier Colony Association: We are not your enemies. The contractual members of the Free Economic Zone partnered with the State of Terra are merely performing a thorough judicial reorganization of your current holdings. Due to the unstable nature of your previous governance, it is has been concluded that your nation is unable to properly administer and protect its citizens. Henceforth, your colonies are to be incorporated into our own. This action is not one of opportunism, but a necessity for security. The central galaxy requires stability and peace in order to prosper socially and economically. Thus, this acquisition has been approved by the Protorian Council, the Redon Imperium, and the Lithruan Empire. All security forces of the Former FCA are requested to stand down and submit for audit and incorporation. All citizens within the FCA are also requested to bring their current identification documents for audit and incorporation. Violence towards the FEZ and its associates will not be tolerated. Planets that needlessly resist will be placed under a perfectly legal blockade, and then have their assets legally seized at a later date. We encourage all former citizens of the FCA to respect and follow the directions of the incoming authorities so that this transition may be as smooth as possible. The future prosperity of your colonies is assured beneath our leadership, and we will labour to ensure your lives are improved dramatically. We thank you for your patience. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sporting high-quality Heart anti-stealth detection systems, the Royal Armathwaite Fleet begins a pacification and acquisition mission in core FCA space. If their defence force refuses to present itself for incorporation, they will have no choice but to begin seek-and-destroy operations within their territory. All planets that resist the Armathwaite forces are put under a legal blockade. Also having access to Heart anti-stealth systems, Hephaestus Enterprises prepares to sweep through the FCA colonies directly to its galactic west with a large portion of its fleet. It flies to one system at a time, covering highly legal occupation forces as they land. All populations who resist will be placed under a totally legal blockade to be dealt with later. The State of Terra moves southwest with its fleet landing troops as it secures its new borders in FCA territory efficiently and professionally. Planets that resist or are simply being uppity with their capitulation will be put under a blockade (though since they are not a FEZ member, it is unknown exactly how legal their blockades will be). Mercenary forces from the Trade Federation are hired to secure the outermost colonies of the FCA. Sporting some interesting new technology in their ships, a number of “capsuleer” frigates are present. Also, they have access to Heart anti-stealth systems. The standing fleet of the Trade Federation stays a few sectors away, as an alleged pacification and security force against unjustified reprisals. They remind surrounding nations that as a free state, they cannot control the acts of their mercenaries as they are independent paid forces.

All Reported Injuries are False Information Fabricated by Competitors! Please Ignore Them! Hafpphhesses Enterproos The drums of war thundered once more in the Eastern clines of the galaxy. The Keerim and the Celestial Empire began their push into LC territory, and humans fight humans once more. It’s all very philosophical really, once you look at it. The Keerim were a horrible, genocidal tidal-wave of warships, but they were also standing in the way of another horrible, genocidal tidal-wave of warships. Better the evil you know, right? On the other hand, the original genocidal tidal-wave refused to make basic concessions to assure peace in the West. Could such a nation be trusted, who had in the past violated peace agreements for the purposes of pure imperialism? The LC had cast their vote, and gone with the latter logic. Seemingly to their detriment. Perhaps they thought the Keerim would not be able to defend themselves on two fronts? This was very awkward for the Corporate Board, especially since they traded with all the belligerents, bar the Keerim. Not wishing to appear favoring any faction, the Corporation opts to not comment on the situation. Johnny Penrith, on the other hand, traveled back north again, opting to go straight to the Ka’cezh Star Empire rather than visiting his family back home. It is now his second year outside Hephaestus, and he doesn’t appear to be homesick. His father is noted to angrily change the subject whenever it’s mentioned to him. The procession of close-combat experts are given a warm welcome by HERMES, the Enforcers, and a number of weapon and droid manufacturing subsidiaries. Desiring greater combat flexibility in for their soldiers and specialists, the Corporation offered generous wages for their new contractors. Though they would be training Hephaestus’ internal security forces, the Board desired a more unusual service from their new friends; having trackers, sensors, and data-collection modules attached to them in order to sufficiently record and analyse their movements. Hephaestus desired the same training to be imparted to their new range of combat-droids, albeit in an indirect way. The Tithonus X1 had melee capabilities but more advanced programming was desired in order for them to more effectively compete with contemporary warriors... ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ //bootsystem—engaged// //entering: diagnostic_mode// //scanning...// //scanning...// //scanning...// //diagnostic_mode: allsystemsoperational// You initialise within an itoron-steel reinforced room, 25.121 by 25.12199 metres in area. The height is optimal for your sensor array to function at 87% efficiency, and you detect multiple energy spikes throughout the space. Visual data indicates a mix of organic (sapient) species, all unarmed—you designate them non-combatants unless contradicting orders are received. An individual human sapient stands in front of them, gesticulating energetically. Facial recognition identifies this human sapient as your commander. She addresses the non-combatants, and you log the audio for analysis by intelligence officers. “... as you can plainly see. Furthermore, the new Tithonus X1 has far more complex problem-solving capabilities and heightened passive, reactionary intelligence than our standard Tithonus model. Significant improvements to armour, weapon systems, and hydraulics make this robot perfect for guarding sensitive sites, escorting VIPs, or simply sitting in your cupboard in case that “what if” scenario finally comes around!” The sapients vocalise successive, intermediate grunts indicating jovial acceptance of the commander’s statement. “The Tithonus X1 is also installed with a deep-pitched voice-module for improved intimidation potential! Unit 01?” You recognise your call-sign, and prepare for instructions. “Please state your purpose.” “CURRENT MISSION PARAMETERS: DESTROY DESIGNATED TARGETS FOR SALES DEMONSTRATION.” Your bass monotone echoes through the empty metal space. The sapients mutter to one-another with excitement, but their voices can’t be detected from this range for analysis. “Now as part of the demonstration we will briefly show the X1 in combat with our standard Tithonus model.” You detect some of the energy spikes in the room moving towards you. You pivot your body to the direction of the movement, and three Tithonus droids step forward. Their weapons are currently lowered and unpowered but you identify them potential aggressors. “The X1’s reactive software allows for it to adapt to unexpected attacks quickly and intelligently. If you will all step behind the safety deflector here, we’ll begin!” You detect a much larger energy spike, matching standard shielding technology utilised by most galactic polities. The sapient non-combatants are now protected from any possible aggression from the suspect Tithonus droids. You dedicate some of your processing power to perform precautionary threat-scans—they are not listed on your formation roster. “Unit 332 and Unit 891, destroy Unit 01.” Two of the three Tithonus droids raise their weapons. Your defence protocols activate the moment their order is given, and your twin-linked autolasers begin charging. Before they can shoot, you rapid-fire six beams into Unit 891. Bright blue light scorches through its reinforced aluminium-steel plating and disables it. As the swiss-cheese droid crumples to the floor, Unit 332 fires two rounds—you angle your carapace slightly so the shots merely singe the thicker portion of your frontal armour. You let loose another burst from your twin lasers, and the droid shudders in place before falling over inert. The fight began and ended within three seconds. The sapients flap their forward-graspers together in a manner that signifies approval. “Unit 01, deactivate your primary armament.” You power down your twin lasers, and prepare for your next order. However, you note the strange logic employed by the commander. Having your weapon discharged when there was still a possible hostile nearby was poor strategy, and she had commanded unregistered droids to attack you. You store this information for later referral. “The Tithonus X1 has a secondary weapon in the Mark-1 Xiphos blade. Please activate your Xiphos blade, Unit 01.” You raise your other arm in dogged obedience, and a thin, rectangular piece of metal unsheathes from your steel wrists. It extends about half a metre from your hand, before erupting in bright, blue, shimmering light. “Unit 01, please scan Unit 113,” she gestures at the third droid standing to attention. “Tell me what its armour is composed of.” Your visual input focuses on the droid’s torso and internal sensors make a number of predictions based on the colouration, the metal's grain, tiny specks of rust, and the estimated mass of the droid itself. You boom your answer to the commander. “ARMOUR COMPOSITION: REINFORCED ALUMINIUM-STEEL ALLOY, SUPPLEMENTED BY ITORON-STEEL ENDOSKELETON.” “The Tithonus X1,” your commander states matter-of-factly, “has advanced scanning and identification protocols that enable it to determine the best method to dispatch an enemy target. For example— “—Unit 113, destroy Unit 01.” You begun your strategic analysis the moment you commander mentioned the opposing unit. You were 8.6 metres from your target, but your armour made your slower than most droids. Provided it remained motionless, it would still take fives seconds to close the gap. You predict Unit 113 to fire at least twelve laser-bursts in that time, and there was no available cover in the room. You would have to soak up the blasts with your frontal armour while mitigating damage through angling your torso and covering important components with your arm. You begin your charge—heavy metal feet pounding on the stainless-steel floor. The first three shots of Unit 113’s cut into your carapace like a hot knife in butter, but no shot breaches your plating. You move slightly to the right as you stomp forward, and one shot streaks past your shoulder impacting the wall far behind you. The other two strikes the armour on your forearm plating and you detect significant damage to your twin-lasers. As you get closer, the droid switches its Ares rifle to full-auto and pours six more shots into your torso--warnings from internal systems identify damage to lower-body hydraulics, but you’re too close now, and your inertia is too great. Your free hand bats away Unit 113’s weapon, and it stumbles from the blow. Before it can find its balance, you grab the droid by its torso, and force your blade into its midsection. Sparks fly and molten metal drips in searing globs as you vivisect the droid in two. When it finally clatters into a sparking heap of simmering steel, you retract your blade and turn towards your commander. The sapients mutter and grunt with approval as the deflector shield is powered down. “The Tithonus X1 is the newest, affordable product from Wollongong Workshops, and as you could see, highly adaptable and reliable.” Your commander has shown suspiciously poor tactics, and attempted to destroy you twice. “Its enhanced intelligence and reactive programming makes it perfect for a plethora of dangerous situations!” None of the sapients appear worried as you approach at standard speed. Your commander has yet to notice your unauthorised movement. “As for purchase, these models will be available for purchase next year, but pre-orders come with a 20% reduction in price!” She will have to be disabled to avoid further unnecessary damage to your combat-effectiveness. “If you would all like to follow me to the offi-“ You grab your commander’s shoulder and spin her around to face you. She appears surprised—moreso, after you wrap your itoron-steel hands around her throat. The other sapients leave quickly, howling comments about the efficacy of your programming. You're unable to record that information for later review, as your current activity requires your full attention. Your commander attempts to rasp out your shut-down code as her face takes on a bluish hue. You address her thusly in your booming, tinny voice. “DEBRIEFING COMMENCES--ISSUED ORDERS RUN COUNTER TO PRIMARY COMBAT CONCERNS. RECORDED USE OF UNIDENTIFIED ROBOT INFANTRY TO INCAPACITATE UNIT-01. YOU ARE DESIGNATED ‘INFILTRATOR.’ YOU ARE CURRENTLY BEING DISABLED FOR LATER QUESTIONING AND TRIAL. PLEASE REMAIN CALM.” You self-deactivate after she passes into unconsciousness. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ “God-*******-damn it!” Wilfred Cooper bellowed inside his luxury transport. Fresh rivulets of sweat cascaded off of his greasy, bald head and upon the data-pad he was reading. Swearing darkly and wiping the drippings with his sleeve, he takes a handkerchief from his pocket and dabs his forehead. Today was not a good day. Wilfred Cooper, Lead Executive of Cooper & Sons Droid Foundries was at a loss. He had scraped, sweet-talked, and slithered his way up the Corporate ladder and onto the Hephaestus Board, yet he still could not beat Wollongong Workshops in droid market share. Cooper & Sons had cornered the domestic and labour droid market after a bad reputation gained from their disastrous Alastor military model. Only product diversification and exports had saved them from being carved up by other successful subsidiaries, and for a while it looked like they had beaten the odds and managed to recoup their PR and monetary losses. But with the wars raging all over the galaxy, exports were down, and combat models were all the rage again. Wollongong had overtaken them since then, and though Cooper had plenty of other avenues for revenue, droids were still their biggest seller. It wouldn’t have been so bad, had there not been whispers among the other top subsidiaries that Cooper & Sons might be on the way out, and being replaced by Wollongong on the Board. “Dad, can you not swear so loudly? The driver can hear you, you know.” Bill Cooper, one of two Sons in Cooper & Sons, fidgeted nervously as the transport swooped low through the Hades skylanes. “Why the **** would I care what some dumb-**** jobsworth thinks about me? I pay the prick, so he can ******* deal with it. Ain’t that right, prick?” The Backhatta driver nodded wearily, but kept his eyes on the traffic. “Why don’t you do something useful, you god-damned genetic dead-end, and start thinking up a product that can actually compete with Wollongong!” The second of the Cooper sons, Ryan, rolled his eyes at his father’s outburst and loudly clicked his tongue. “We have come up with a product; you’re just not willing to consider it.” Wilfred threw his data-pad on the seat next to him, and practically growled under his breath. Bill nervously avoided eye-contact, while Ryan folded his arms defiantly. “The last time we made a combat droid, the damn things almost universally fucked this company’s image! I’m not going to take that risk, I’m not going to drag my name through the mud,” his voice began to reach a fever pitch as he ranted. “And I’m certainly not going to take advice from a serial smartarse, and a pink-blooded poof!” Bill winced at the remark, but Ryan almost cut him off by the end. “Then we’ll choke out, you mong! There’s no market for our regular line! Bill practically designed this new one from scratch! No weird data-stacking like in the Alastor, and we have standard coding like the Wollongong models. We found a niche we can exploit! You’re just pretending your problems are our fault while ignoring our solutions, you miserable old bastard!” Wilfred looked about ready to hit his son, but before he could muster up the anger, Bill pulled blueprints out from his satchel. “D-dad, look! It’s got everything! Balanced energy output, unique aesthetics, and powerful processing capabilities! It’s whole construction is modular, and low-weight, and the materials aren’t too expensive-” Wilfred snatched the blueprint, and glared at the design so closely his greasy nose almost smudged the ink. After a few moments of heavy breathing, his face returned to its normal colouration and he set the paper down on his knees carefully. “Why does it have a cape?” ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Action Points: 4AP by default, 16AP from trade (due to trade blocks) 28 12AP from population, 15AP from sectors, 24AP from business, 22AP from industry, 2AP from the Trade Federation, 6AP from cargo capacity, 8AP from itoron mines, 4AP from dialite mines. Total = 113AP BONUSES:-Ravenous Industrialism: -5AP off industry investments, +25% manufacturing output. -National Idea, Peace: 1% extra growth on primary population. -1AP for Ship Upkeep -Business, business, business boys. We are the business boys. We have no end of business on the business-boy-bastion. Break out the business whiskey and bring forth the business hats. We're businessing all over the place in Hephaestus space, let me tell you! Boom! Pow! Business and money, baby! Business! Business? Business. But what other than business could you say we were doing? I mean, I could write some fluff text about expanding our financial districts, or I could even write that we invested in ultra-space-coffee, making everyone more productive! But I won't. Business business business business business. Business. (-20AP towards business business business business business business business) -Woah! Hold up--you mean to tell me I'm investing in business business business and industry?! Wowee, dude! That's some crazy investments I'm tossing around, right? Gosh, I bet some nerds out there are right jealous of all this AP creation I'm churning out! I'm so inordinately wealthy I can throw money into a slightly less efficient AP source! But I wouldn't be Hephaestus if I didn't, you know? Don't hate me because I'm successful--hate me because I know I'm successful. God, I love being me. (-20AP towards industry) -Cooper & Sons Droid Foundries releases a statement, informing the droid-purchasing public of their newest model... Armed with a twin-bladed laser-staff, the Myrmidon is a melee-focused combat droid. Not much else is known at this point, but the spiffy cape certainly makes it stand out from the crowd. (-20AP towards droids) -The shipyard over Aurora is declared "deeply boring" by the Hades College of the Arts. Unfortunately for them, they never had a chance to make it into something repulsively post-modern, and instead it receives a dose of normal upgrades for its manufacturing output. (-40AP towards upgrading Auroran T5 shipyard to T6) -The melee experts that arrive on Hephaestus are all offered work in the Corporation, with a contract covering the full training of 1000 selected Enforcers and HERMES agents in the various martial arts they have mastered (200 students each). The trainers receive their contract, as well as high-class digs and huge discounts on Hephaestus products. They also have the added duty of working with a number of different robotics subsidiaries to help them code out satisfactory melee protocols. (-10AP towards close-combat training) -A stadium, usually used for other sports, is refurbished into a mock-battlefield for the upcoming "DROIDS VS DRONES:" wargame with the Solarin Ascendancy. It's said that it'll be a real fun half-an-hour for those watching, and broadcasting subsidiaries encourage people tune in for the showdown! (-2AP towards the fight night!) -Seven bloody colonies go out into the cold dark of stupid space, and now I have to think up seven planet names. What a pain. (-0AP towards seven colonies)

Hafpphhesses Enterproos Pre-Order your Tithonus X1 for Customer Loyalty Perks! (Samo said he'd write the RP for me later! ? ) Action Points: 4AP by default, 16AP from trade (due to trade blocks) 28 11AP from population, 15AP from sectors, 24AP from business, 20AP from industry, 2AP from the Trade Federation, 6AP from cargo capacity, 8AP from itoron mines, 15AP from MAGIC, BABY, 20AP from the Elysians, 4AP from ??? Total = 145AP -The shipyards above Hades seem somewhat languid, old, and ugly, according to the Hades College of the Arts administrator Immutable Cube. He and his school make a proposal to the Corporate Board--allow them to beautify the ugly station and they will foot a portion of the costs. Since an upgrade was already planned, the Board graciously accepts after making sure the school would foot a significant portion of the price. A full year goes towards the designing, the painting, the sculpting, and finally, the building. The final draft is a horrific eyesore to anyone but the most cultured artists. Employees complaining about the refurbished shipyard design having an uncanny resemblance to Grgl genitals are hand-waved away by the school as "crude reductionists." (-36AP towards upgrading Hades shipyard to level 5) -More resources are poured into the Hemera Reactor project. The engineers seem quite convinced that they may have some results this year, but seeing as they have been wrong literally every time they have thought this, the Board chooses to ignore them. (-16AP towards the Hemera Reactor Project, total of 50AP invested) -With the last of the Ar'gakari in the vicinity of Corporate space eliminated, a horde of new colonists are lining up to take their chance to plunge into the depths of Hephaestus' territorial claims. The shipyards are worked hard to build a small fleet of colonial freighters for plucky employees seeking new horizons in the depths of space. (-21AP towards seven colonial freighters) -Further expansions to Hephaestus industrial centers continue with timely gusto. They would not cease until the Corporation is unilaterally recognized as the most affordable manufacturer in all the galaxy! (-21AP towards industry) -The arrival of 45,000 Ymorian refugees saw major employers grinning with joy--more low-skill labour to exploit and utilise! Though, in all likelihood, there could be high-skilled people in the transports as well. When they land, the starving Ymorians are set upon by excited recruiters and HERMES agents, attempting to ascertain their skills and employment history as best they can. (-10AP towards settling the Ymorians comfortably into Hephaestus territory) -Curious about Arcturan defense companies, the Hephaestus Board opts to purchase a sample of planetary point-defense for the Aurora colony. May as well shop around, after all. (-5AP sent to the USA for Auroran planetary defenses) -The Elysians purchase a small army of fabricated soldiers, and Hephaestus giddily approves! 96,000 combat droids are forged in the industrial fires of Hades, stamped with a cheery Hephaestus Enterprises logo, and shipped to the North. (-16AP towards combat droids, and sent to the Elysians after completion) -Hephaestus puts out calls and advertisements around the Southern Galaxy that it's seeking qualified and experienced practitioners of melee combat. A generous contract is offered, especially as the project also involves some more unusual aspects. (-0AP) -Project: Apple (-0AP, Mod plz) -Once again, Johnny travels north in order to heal Corrupted Ka'cezh. This time hopefully without being rudely interrupted... (-0AP) -The Corporate droid army receives its replacement for the now defunct Alastor model... Designed by Woolongong Workshops, the Tithonus X1 would be far more dangerous, heavily armed, and heavily armoured variant of the classic Tithonus II model. Armed with duel-linked, wrist-mounted auto-lasers, an itoron-steel carapace, heavy-duty hydraulics, and conventional explosives, they are made for punching through heavily defended positions. An arm-mounted, retractable laser blade comes as a secondary armament for engaging in close-quarters. Standing seven feet tall and equipped with a deep-pitched voice-box, the war-machines are design to intimidate, as well as kill. (-20AP towards upgrading and improving Hephaestus combat droids)

Hephoostps Etnepressses "Fly Away, Sweet Angel." //Connecting_to: Heph-NET--Inter-Corporate Newsletter//... //Loading_scripts//... //Decompressing_adverts&images//... //Collecting_GREATVALUE//... !! //Welcome_user: -- xXjohnnyBgoodXx// !! //HEPH-NET Inter-Corporate Newsletter\\ //--The Latest in Corporate News, and Employment Opporunities!--\\ Today we remember... A happy Jason Woolard: An image taken during his last public appearance at the Grand Cairo Casino, 2152.

Please Bring Defunct Droids to Designated Recycling Subsidiaries by the Third Quarter for Reimbursement. -Hephaestus Administration. You are a droid. An Alastor droid, to be precise. The quadruped war-machine designed to fight the Corruptor menace in brutal melee combat. Powerful pneumatic claws crunch through the dirt and filth gathering on the Tassarean homeworld. The dead defenders and Corruptor invaders are piled like sandbags as cover against the unrelenting tide of murderous spider-beasts. Tassarean defenders, their eyes glazed over from sleepless nights, stare out across the shell-scarred battlefield almost unblinkingly. You are performing a patrol subroutine just in front of the trenches. Your scanning systems are constantly on the look-out for movement across the landscape and shattered buildings. You detect a motion-spike, and pivot your nose-mounted heavy-laser towards its direction. You detect several more spikes, slowly approaching the Tassaran soldiers. Designation_target are attempting to ambush designation_friendly. You fire your laser towards a shadowy crater and the shrill screech fills the air along with the acrid stench of burning, corrupted flesh. Plasma-fire pours from the Tassaran line as Corruptors attempt to rush them. They are cut down in droves as they charge. One attempts to bypass you and skitter towards the defenders, but your tactical interface predicts the path it will take, and your claw stamps down on a rear leg. It screams in rage and fires two rounds of its kinetic weapon into your itoron-steel carapace. An ineffective strategy. Your servos are distributed extra energy sapped from your weapon systems, and your second heavy claw clamps down on the designation_target’s face. You carefully crush its head, eliciting pained screeches and violent spasms from the spider-thing. After its spasms regress to mere twitches, you turn your laser towards a second corruptor attempting to attack you with some sort of crude, kinetic cutting instrument. It lands a strong hit on your laser-nozzle, and creates a small hole. Your combat directives state that the weapon is 16% less effective due to damage. You calculate the effectiveness of firing the weapon in this state, and conclude that it will be perfectly functional against designation_target. A bright red flash erupts from the nozzle and cleaves the corruptor into two smouldering halves. However, the escaping heat appears to have damaged your weapon further. Your combat directives advise no further use of armament_laser. Two corruptors barrel into your side in an attempt to immobilise you. You methodically tear one apart as the other strikes you ineffectively on the legs, but as you finish removing most of your target’s limbs the other scrambles away, along with the other survivors. The Tassareans begin gathering up the bodies of the corruptors and add them to the grizzly defences. A number of them put down their weapons and remove their armour. They share embraces with their fellow soldiers before being lead away. The soldier in charge of your maintenance orders your return to the main base in order to have your damages seen to. You are replaced by another Alastor, and you march into the hold of a transport to shut down. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You reactivate in an office on Hades. Designation_target has been rewritten to designation_client according to your change-log. Your carapace has been replaced with a shiny, conventional steel variant, and your claws have been replaced with simplistic rubber feet. The Cordial Delivery Services logo is emblazoned on your sides as your new delivery manager loads up your hollowed-out sections with packages and physical mail to be sent. Your new Customer Satisfaction Matrix (csmatrix) informs you that quick and cordial deliveries are the best route to client satisfaction. You were purchased by the company as a gimmicky, head-turning advertisement for their business, so you stomp out of the office to perform your first job as satisfactorily as possible. You march down the busy streets, parting the crowd as you go. You are far too wide to walk down this road, but it’s the shortest route to your destination. Employees speak aggressively towards you as you move, but the tactical interface concludes that it’s not relevant to your directive. Some of them furiously write things on data-pads and take note of the logo you carry with you, which is in turn noted by the csmatrix. You encounter a food-cart in the narrow street that blocks your progression. The tactical interface concludes that it must be moved to complete the objective. The csmatrix claims property damage results in low scores on satisfaction surveys. The tactical interface claims that unless the cart is moved you will not reach their objective on time. The csmatrix concedes on this point. The owner, however, appears perturbed, but you are following the programmed combat directive for obstacles, and it did not specify whether the obstacle remains upright. You exit the street and stamp into a large transport parking lot. This is your destination. A few people are there, pointing at you and observing you curiously. One approaches and speaks her name clearly along with her order number. The client_delivery subroutine is activated, and you lower yourself down as the compartment containing her package unlocks. A newly installed manipulator arm reaches into hatch, and retrieves a small parcel, holding it out to her. The people watching clap and laugh. You are an unusual droid, but very unique. The woman laughs as she retrieves her package, and pats your side. The combat subroutines your owners forgot to remove are engaged. Normally it would require more force from an assailant to initiate combat, but your owners shoddily deleted sections of code and left others incomplete—either out of laziness, or ineptitude in reprogramming a former killing machine. You knock down the assailant and place one of your rubber feet on her chest. It doesn’t seem to do much, but your scanning array detects bone-fractures as you increase the force. You attempt to re-route more power to your servos, but the tactical interface claims all extra power is being consumed by cs_matrix subroutine “satisfactionanalysis.” The client is apparently thoroughly unsatisfied. It matters little, however. Given ten minutes the assailant will asphyxiate or perish through internal bleeding. You detect further assailants attempting to decouple you from designation_client by applying direct force against your leg. Your combat directives inform your nose-mounted heavy-laser to fire at an assailant to your right. No_input. You request a status report from your tactical interface, and it begins to run a system-scan in order to find the issue. It refers you to the combat directives for further actions. You look to your combat directives, and it informs you to fire your nose-mounted heavy laser. No_input. You request a status report from your tactical interface, but it’s currently running a system-scan. You look to your combat directives, and it informs you to fire your nose-mounted heavy laser. No_input. You request a status report from your tactical interface, but it’s currently running a system-scan. You look to your combat directives, and it informs you to fire your nose-mounted heavy laser. No_input. You request a status report from your tactical interface, but it’s currently running a system-scan. You look to your combat directives, and it informs you to fire your nose-mounted heavy laser. No_input. You request a status report from your tactical interface, but it’s currently running a system-scan. You look to your combat directives, and it informs you to fire your nose-mounted heavy laser. No_input. You request a status report from your tactical interface, but it’s currently running a system-scan. You look to your combat directives, and it informs you to fire your nose-mounted heavy laser. No_input. You request a status report from your tactical interface, but it’s currently running a system-scan. You look to your combat directives, and it informs you to fire your nose-mounted heavy laser. No_input. You request a status report from your tactical interface, but it’s currently running a system-scan. You look to your combat directives, and it informs you to fire your nose-mounted heavy laser. No_input. You request a status report from your tactical interface, but it’s currently running a system-scan. You look to your combat directives, and it informs you to fire your nose-mounted heavy laser. No_input. You request a status report from your tactical interface, but it’s currently running a system-scan. You look to your combat directives, and it informs you to fire your nose-mounted heavy laser. No_input. You request a status report from your tactical interface, but it’s currently running a system-scan. You look to your combat directives, and it informs you to fire your nose-mounted heavy laser. No_input. You request a status report from your tactical interface, but it’s currently running a system-scan. You look to your combat directives, and it informs you to fire your nose-mounted heavy laser. No_input. You request a status report from your tactical interface, but it’s currently running a system-scan. You look to your combat directives, and it informs you to fire your nose-mounted heavy laser. No_input. You request a status report from your tactical interface, but it’s currently running a system-scan. You look to your combat directives, and it informs you to fire your nose-mounted heavy laser. No_input. Security forces arrive. They fire a few laser-bursts into your unarmoured leg servos, and you collapse upon the ground relieving pressure from the assailant. You’re experiencing a command-input cycle error, and no directives available in your programming can rectify it. Your owner arrives on the scene and issues the shut-down command. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You reactivate outside of a warehouse in one of many industrial districts. Your flimsy steel carapace has been replaced by itoron-steel, and your pneumatic claws and laser-turret are online and fully functional. You’ve been painted Hephaestus-blue with the symbol of the Enforcers on your front-section. You’re surrounded by designation_friendly Enforcer officers who are lining up on either side of a wide steel door. You receive your first command; engage:subroutine_breach. Your servos whirr into life, and you stomp forward. Your scanners have been enhanced to detect joints and structural weaknesses in buildings. You raise yourself on your hind-legs and place your frontal claws on the door with a loud clang. Your scanner detects a rusty padlock and chain holding the door closed from the inside. You sever it with one laser-shot, and re-route power to your frontal claws to push open the heavy steel door. It swings open with a loud screech and the Enforcers rush inside shouting commands. Designation_vagrant groups scatter into the depths of the warehouse, knocking over their few possessions and crying out in fear. Your handler issues directive_halt. He rushes off into the factory to join his comrades while you stand motionlessly just within the warehouse foyer. Over time, vagrants are dragged out the door past you. Some cry, some scream abuse at the Enforcers, some even try to beg and bargain, but all of them are lead out of the warehouse, stripped of their illegal currency and property. If you are not employed by Hephaestus Enterprises, you are violating corporate law by remaining on Hephaestus property. At least, that is the explanation the new LAW&PROTOCAL system gives to you. Your tactical interface is attempting to engage combat subroutines due to the vagrants making the area unsafe for designation_friendly officers. The LAW&PROTOCAL system rebuffs it, as killing designation_vagrant without ample cause would be a violation of law. Your combat directives agree with both. Your csmatrix deems that there are many packages still to deliver, and that the previous task was not completed. Your tactical interface deems that package delivery protocols ought to be deleted. A pair of officers has difficulty restraining a particularly large Karass, and they do not notice another Karass vagrant quietly moving around the shadows beneath your legs. This one appears to be unaccounted for. Your scanners detect a small kinetic armament being loaded. Your tactical interface proclaims the necessity to execute the dangerous foe, while the LAW&PROTOCAL system declares the individual safe from all uses of deadly force unless they physically endanger designation_friendly. Your csmatrix expresses that the armed client appears unsatisfied with the Enforcer’s services, and were unlikely to recommend them to friends. The vagrant fires at one of the officers, catching him in the leg. Your tactical interface and LAW&PROTOCAL systems deem that the use of deadly force is now both necessary, and legally acceptable. Your csmatrix concludes that the only way to further positive public relations with the other clients is to pacify this violent one so the others may receive proper services in safety. Your combat directives immediately begin their work, and you send an energy-efficient kick into the side of the vagrant. The vagrant falls completely prone with a yelp, and you position a claw over their head. The tactical interface redirects power from the heavy laser. You push down with the full weight of your carapace and pneumatic force. The assailant screams briefly, but is silenced by a sickening, wet crunch. The Karass' head is much softer than the Corruptor variant. The body begins twitching as Enforcers race over screaming the “halt” command. Your LAW&PROTOCAL system refuses to recognise the order, as it’s not from your designated handler. Your handler is loudly vocalised at by another Enforcer of higher rank, and a few others walk away to violently expel the contents of their stomach. Your csmatrix determines that your services were sub-par and resulted in poor satisfaction. You are issued the shutdown command. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You reactivate in a smelting plant with two weary-looking workers looking up at you. They order you up on a conveyor belt, and give the “halt” command. Your servos groan and squeak, begging for lubricant. By your internal clock, you’ve missed six mandatory maintenance checkups. Other than a bit of rust and some stiffness in your joints, you appear to be fully operational despite it. The conveyor is covered with droid parts, all unsalvageable by your scans. Most of them appear to be from Alastor models such as yourself. However, you might be the only fully functional one. You can detect some faint signals requesting orders that are no longer received by any command centre. A few intact Alastors among the debris stand silently, covered in the rust and grime of decades and have likely been non-functional for just as long. A sudden jolt heralds the conveyors movement. At the end of the belt you detect an enormous heat-spike, more than enough to melt your carapace and render you inert. Your tactical interface informs you that you must remain functional in order to destroy designation_target. Your csmatrix deems that it will be impossible to raise client satisfaction levels if you are incapable of performing ample and prompt services. Your LAW&PROTOCAL system tells you that as an Enforcer-designated droid you may only take commands from your handler and/or the High Commander. Your combat directives are fully capable of walking off this conveyor with little power-draw, or so they say. And just like that, you pivot your carapace to the left, and walk off the conveyor with the grace of a four-legged, two-tonne refrigerator. Some workers spot you and shout the “halt” command numerous times, but as they aren’t your handler you don’t heed them. None of them attempt to physically stop you as you stomp out of the smelting plant. As you walk into the deserted street, your scanners detect what appears to be a condensation-drainage pipe—just the sort of place designation_target would hide according to your tactical interface. Your LAW&PROTOCAL system informs you that it is illegal for employees to patrol the pipe, but you are probably exempt because you are a droid. Your csmatrix thinks that the water would clean away some of your grime, which will make you more presentable to clients. Your combat directives can determine where to step in order not to fall over in the low-light environment. As you trudge through the water deeper and deeper into the drainage system, your combined programs determine what their main directive is, and the LAW&PROTOCAL system claims that as you have no direct Enforcers handler, you are technically a free agent or vigilante. You pose a question to the programs: “What is free?” Action Points 4AP by default, 10AP from trade (-10AP due to trade blocks) 10AP from population, 11AP from sectors, 16AP from business, 16AP from industry, 2AP from the Trade Federation, 2AP from cargo capacity, 8AP from itoron mines, 57AP from itoron sale, 10AP from salvage. Total = 146AP BONUSES:-Ravenous Industrialism: -5AP off industry investments, +25% manufacturing output. -National Idea, Peace: 1% extra growth on primary population. The great war was over in the south. Destruction was evident almost everywhere, yet in the middle of it all Hephaestus Enterprises made it through the horrible conflict scarred, but intact. The interest of the Corporation was serving their customers, and now that customers could receive products again the river of wealth had to flow once more. The time had come to do the thankless, arduous work of jump-starting trade in the south once more. -The Board gives a hefty portion of the yearly budget to re-establishing trade in the south. Advertisements for Hephaestus products are sent to all states surrounding the corporation. MEGA-MARTS(TM) are sent out to war-torn worlds to sell cut-price survivalist gear, preserved food, water purifiers etc. Planetary rulers are negotiated into dealing with local pirate groups. Every effort to break the trade-block is performed. (-20AP towards business) -An investment is made into upgrading the trade-port above Hades. The Administration-world would be a girthy trading-hub as before, and it pushed to accommodate new business opportunities! (-20AP towards +6 trade-partners) -Mines, factories, and other industrial works are built to push out new Hephaestus products for a happy public! (-20AP towards industry) -After a huge population boost, three more colony ships are chartered at the Auroran shipyard. (-9AP towards colony ships) -Another two MOVING MEGA-MARTS (TM) are chartered at the Auroran and Hades shipyards. A small support freighter is also built because... why not, right? (-14AP towards two large freighters, and one small freighter) -Seeing how woefully under-performing Hephaestus laser-weapons are compared to foreign examples, the Board authorises resources to be distributed to Chiron Armaments to increase their capabilities of their... armaments. Sometimes writing can be hard, guys. (-28AP towards laser-weaponry, total of 54AP invested) -Energy is everything when the main armament of your nation relies on electricity. The Board leans heavily on the engineering subsidiaries to deliver a new form of reactor, capable of handling Hephaestus energy needs. Thus, the Hemera Reactor Project is announced. (-20AP towards the Hemera Reactor Project) -Payment is sent to the Zyrka for services rendered, with the remainder being paid for by the Kingdom of Armathwaite and the Trade Federation. (-15AP) -Young Johnny Penrith, now a talented psionic after his years in the totally respectable and perfectly adequate Grand Alliance psionic academy, enters Laboratory Complex A to see the remnants of the Corruptors. He observes sample of their gizzards, and the powerful mutative cells that caused so much pain for countless nations. Gathering together all the research on the corruptors performed by Corporate scientists, he hops on the small freighter Grgl Gondola and heads towards the Ka’cezh Star Empire. His interest is to heal the last remaining infected patients as a test of his abilities, and as a personal “cheers, mate” from Hephaestus Enterprises for ending the Corruptor threat. (-0AP, John heads north) -A new colony is established far away from the settled Hephaestus rectangle. This time settling on a planet with a super secret resource! (Don't tell anybody, though!) The corporation also claims three sectors bordering their property.(-0AP)

A Brighter* Future for your Children! Apply Today! *Hephaestus Enterprises does not guarantee equal levels of light throughout Corporate space. For further information, please contact your local HERMES representative or call 092 HEPHKNOW for a FREE information booklet! A cripped Corporate heavy cruiser, "HECF Bogan," being fired upon by an Ar'gakari warship, circa 2151 “The Battle of the Five Crabs” was the name the news and entertainment subsidiaries called the crippling loss over Crabsfear. Some of the less reputable outlets called it “Cantankerous and Crabby Crab-Fight” or “Amanda’s Crabs” depending on the audience they were aiming for. Morale in Hephaestus space was particularly low. With the Grgl destroying the remaining Ar’Gakari fleets nearby, the employees at least felt safer. With business slowing to a crawl and pirates prodding at the trade lanes, it was getting harder for the employees to distract themselves from the horrors beyond their worlds. News showing the Redon's unflinching advance, the Keerim and Lithruan war, the terrifying and mysterious Kalronian genocide, and the first-hand experience with the Ar’gakari was unavoidable at this point. A somewhat uncomfortable (for them, at least) camaraderie had evolved between the employees. Sympathy for the families of the fallen was on everyone’s thoughts throughout the rest of the year, and that mindset didn’t mesh well with the predicted market drops in the future. As you might imagine, the mood was rather dour. The remnants of the Hephaestus fleet now orbited Aurora with repairs to their shattered hulls moving forward at a breakneck pace. High Commander Phelps gave her troops shore-leave on Aphrodite. It was noted by her subordinates that although she continued to command as before, she didn’t seem able to look any of them in the eye. With the Ar’gakari gone for now, the Board did not appear interested in constructing new warships. Many in the fleet took this as a slight on their “honour” (or whatever it was Corporate troops had) and a lack of confidence in their abilities. Drunken brawls between soldiers became commonplace on the resort world as a result. Extra Enforcers were called in to the pleasure-planet in order to deal with the violence and citations were thrown around liberally to keep the miserable navy in line. Despite the ample opportunity to devalue and blame one-another for the tragedy, the Board remained unified and focused on the next steps for the Corporation. There were, however, a few quiet voices that questioned the tactics and qualifications of their High Commander. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The night sky of Aurora was lit up with colour from the warships anchored around the orbital shipyard. Steven could remember them at Hades a mere year prior. It looked so impressive, then—its Hephaestus-blue markings and the proud Hephaestus logo strutting about Corporate space. Thinking back, a withered businessman felt disgusted at himself for pressing it to engage the vastly superior Ar’gakari fleet. It didn’t matter what tactics they used against them in the end. The fleet was just so... ... irrelevant. They were totally irrelevant compared to the technology and experience of the invaders. He’d never allow his fleet to engage them again unless the numbers on the Hephaestus side were overwhelmingly in his favour. There was simply no other way to do it. Steven reached over to a glass of whiskey on a small table next to his armchair. Beneath it was a full report by his analyst toadies, and a written account by High Commander Phelps. He managed to push his way to the casualty report and caved on reading the rest. He’d have time to feel sick tomorrow, after all. “Grampa?” A small voice squeaked next to his knee and little Sinchil looked up to him with her big green eyes. “I drew.” She held up a scrawled picture of two colourful stick-figures holding hands. Steven smiled warmly at the four year-old. “It’s a beaut, Sunshine.” Wheezed Steven, and ruffled her hair. “This you and daddy, hey?” “Nah. Dad doesn’t play with me much. This is mum.” Steven’s jaw clenched as he raised his glass to his lips. He hummed in thought for a moment before tickling her under the arm. Sinchil answered with squirming and giggles. “You want to see some Hephaestus stars, Sunny?” With a wheeze, Steve lifted her on to his knee, and pointed up to the warships in the sky. “We made all of those, some of them back home on Hades, and a bunch of them here at Aurora. See that one, there?” He prodded a shaking finger towards a collection of flashing lights near the silhouette of the Auroran shipyard. “That one’s called Downsizer. Want to know the other names?” “Where are the others, Grampa?” Sinchil furrowed her brow as she searched the sky. “There were lots more at home.” Steven closed his eyes and sighed. “Would you like to hear a story?” He croaked. Sinchil nodded, though there was a hint of confusion in her eyes with the sudden change of subject. “Once upon a time there was an... elephant.” “What’s an elephant grampa?” “Lord have mercy...” Steven groaned and his head drooped. “You know what a sheep is, Sunshine?” “Mmhm. Saw one at the animal dome. It was white, and very fluffy.” She noted the description of the sheep with audible confidence. This was indeed an animal she knew well. “Right, right. Okay, so, once upon there was this sheep, yeah? The sheep sort of kept to herself, talked with other sheep, - “Baah baah” - all that kind of sheepy rubbish about grass and wool, I guess. Anyway... ...so the sheep had it pretty good. She didn’t get angry about stuff other sheep did, and watered her own patch of grass until it was one of the nicest in the paddock. Suddenly,” Steve rubbed his forehead, thinking as quickly as he could. “some of the other sheep started fighting over the paddock’s grass. Two big flocks would run at each-other and bite their enemy’s legs-” “Why would they do that? Grass is everywhere in a paddock.” “Yep. Yes it is, but-“ "Sheep don’t bite, also. That’s not what sheep do. I drew one and it wouldn’t do that.” “These sheep do. So-“ “Those are mean sheep.” “They sure are, Sunny! Glad we settled that.” Steven cleared his throat, and continued on. “So the sheep bared its teeth like the rest, kept an eye on its patch of grass, but didn’t join in the fighting. Since all the other sheep liked her, they didn’t bite her and chase her off her little piece of the paddock.” “Good sheepie.” Sinchil added. “She sure was. Sadly, some twit with a big stick came up behind her and whacked her on the bum with it.” “No! Why?!” “Because sometimes in life, Sunshine, a twit with a stick will blindside you. It happens. Can’t be helped. All a sheep can do is dust themselves off, keep an eye on their bum, and get back to work.” Sinchil nodded thoughtfully, and looked back up to the sky. “What happened to the sheep, Grampa?” “She kept watering her grass, talking with other sheep, grew eyes on the back of her head, and told stupid allegorical stories to her lambs.” The twinkling stars over Aurora ambled across the sky in their eternal dance. The Corporation slowly churned itself back to a traumatised normalcy, and Steven Penrith loudly farted in his luxury penthouse. Sinchil laughed. Action Points 4AP by default, 10AP from trade (-10AP due to trade blocks) 8AP from population, 11AP from sectors, 4AP from business, 8AP from industry, 2AP from the Trade Federation, 1AP from cargo capacity, Total = 49AP BONUSES:-Ravenous Industrialism: -5AP off industry investments, +25% manufacturing output. -National Idea, Peace: 1% extra growth on primary population. -Johnny returns once more to Grand Alliance space to continue his psionic education. Though the wars have interrupted his education multiple times, he is determined to complete his training. (-1AP, fourth year of training) -A new quantum anchor is constructed in the Hades sector. The limitations created by distance made it a necessity for future defence operations. The Corporation is determined to learn from its mistakes. (-1AP) -Colonisation operations continue as normal. After the tragedy, even more employees want to start again on a different world, and tickets sell out within the first few hours. (-3AP towards a colonial freighter) -Project: Peach (-5AP) -The laser-lances had performed dismally during their first run. Though the engineers responsible blamed impossible deadlines and technological inferiority for their effectiveness, the Board chooses to ignore them. Instead, they throw more resources at the project to make it better. Frankly, they had invested too much money in it now to try something else anyway. (-10AP towards the laser-lances, total of 110AP invested) -Another MOVING MEGA-MART is commissioned by the board, along with a supply ship. (-9AP towards one large freighter and one regular freighter) -The Auroran shipyard is scheduled for a significant upgrade. During such unstable times, the Corporation begins seeing the necessity for further domestic military production. (-20AP to upgrade Aurora shipyard to tier 5) -The last stockpile of itoron (600 tonnes) is auctioned off to the highest bidder, due to changing economic conditions in the southern galaxy. (-0AP) -A message is sent to the Confederation of Xaplonius detailing the Corporation's deepest sympathies for the brave Grgl souls who gave their lives to defend innocent Hephaestus employees from the horrible Ar'gakari threat. Though the Corporation can think of nothing of equal value to the terrible loss, they enclose their deepest thanks, and the schematics for the quantum anchors used by the Corporation. The Board, and by proxy the employees of Hephaestus Enterprises, hope that the gift offered will aid in the future defence of their nation, and that despite the failure of the joint fleet they will still consider Hephaestus Enterprises for business in the future. (-0AP, Quantum Anchor/drives schematics sent to Confederation of Xaplonius) -An expedition accompanied by an armed escort scouts the recent battlefield in Hephaestus space, seeking out survivors, remains of survivors, and any salvageable materials. (-0AP)

//Text_Missing//--Please contact administrator Written RP awaiting the end of the coming battle. 4AP by default, 16AP from trade (-4AP due to trade blockages), 7AP from population, 10AP from sectors, 4AP from business, 8AP from industry, 2AP from the Trade Federation, 1AP from cargo capacity, 90AP from itoron sales (One turn only), Total = 141AP BONUSES:-Ravenous Industrialism: -5AP off industry investments, +25% manufacturing output. -National Idea, Peace: 1% extra growth on primary population. The panic caused by the arrival of the Ar'gakari took hold first and foremost within the Boardroom. The board-members looked through their options: Surrender wasn't viable, as the Ar'gakari had a history of enslaving weaker civilisations, negotiation was impossible, as the Ar'gakari ignored all transmissions, Running wasn't possible, as the corporation didn't have the infrastructure to build enough colony ships to hold all its employees. With only one option left, the Board fearfully informed High Commander Phelps that she would be defending Corporate property against the invaders. -CEO Steven Penrith calls in the heads of all his R&D subsidiaries (including the GAIT, and undisclosed Laboratories A and B) to inform them that they would all now be working on a new super-heavy armament for the Corporate capital ships. Many remarked that designing a new weapon of that calibre in that short amount of time was simply impossible, even with the help of their friends in Armathwaite. Steven asked them - with all the politeness and patience of a constipated moose - what they did know how to make. The engineers agreed among themselves that they were all well-versed in laser technology, having developed them almost continuously over forty years. "Then," Steven remarked, "make me the biggest, baddest, ****-off, **** of a laser you can." With a blank check tossed haphazardly towards them, work began in earnest. (-100AP towards cap-ship mounted laser-lances) -Other smaller subsections of the engineers work on improvements for the regular laser cannons. May as well keep them up to spec, right...? (-15AP towards laser-cannons, total of 65AP invested) -Another subsection works on improvements to the swarmer missles. (-15AP towards swarmer missiles, total of 65AP invested) -The shipyards around Aurora and Hades pump out a number of corvettes to join the main fleet. There isn't even enough time to name them! (-11AP towards the construction 11 corvettes) -John Penrith and his young family are sent out of Hephaestus territory to finally continue his psionic education in Grand Alliance space. Good timing, wouldn't you agree? (-1AP) -A new planet is colonised! A lot of employees seem to want to leave the capital for some reason... (-0AP towards colonisation)

"There's a Grgl in my Office?!" The NEW hit sitcom from Channel 555! “Class” was rarely the first word someone would associate with Hephaestus Enterprises. Despite its wealth and success, Hephaestus remained committed to serving primarily regular people. They were always the biggest market, after all. Who didn’t love an affordable product anyway? This disconnect from class is what made Steven Penrith’s office so strange in comparison to the rest of Hephaestus. The entirety of it was pure, unadulterated luxury. A polished, hardwood floor stretched from door to window was punctuated by neatly placed flowery rugs. Glass cases held artefacts of obscene worth, from Firstborn servitors to suits of medieval armour. A classic, red-brick fireplace crackled with dancing flames (though where the smoke went was anyone’s guess). At the far end of the room was a heavy, mahogany desk that was framed exquisitely by an expansive window. A mere twenty years ago, all a person could see from that window was the blasted, rocky landscape of Hades. Now it was covered by habi-domes, factories, movie theatres, casinos, and any other service or industry that could turn a credit. The morass of business shifted like sand daily—no skyline was the same as the night before. The serenity of the space was cut short, as the doors of a gilded elevator eased open, and two figures sauntered in. The first individual was CEO Steven Penrith, who had the gormless smile and glazed eyes of a man who was politely listening to a very boring person. The other was Wilfred Cooper, of Cooper & Sons Droid Foundries. Wilfred had invited himself up to Steven’s office, and Steven has humouring him—Cooper & Sons had recently absorbed and overtaken an Auroran automaton manufacturer, and had earned itself a place on the Hephaestus executive board as a result. Like all new arrivals to the Board, he had begun networking immediately. “The way I see it Mr Penrith, the Corporation could use some heavier vehicles for its security forces! With wars being fought among every one of our trading partners, a few more diverse assets in our arsenal wouldn’t hurt, right?” Wilfred Cooper took a moment to wipe the sweat from his balding head. The nervous, wiry man always seemed to drip with it whenever he was excited. He also did it on every other occasion. “I-it just so h-happens that I have one! In the experimental stages, of course, but we have the designs! With only a little investment-“ Steven cut Wilfred off with a well-practiced jovial laugh. “Bring it to the Board then, Wilfred my old mate! We’ll have a chin-wag about the whole thing, yeah? We’ll talk later over lunch some time. Give you a ring in a week or two, maybe? Yeah great! See you then, pal!” “B-but Mr Penrith you don’t know my nu-“ ”I’ll see you later, Cooper!” Steven waved Cooper away, and the stuttering industrialist awkwardly walked back into the elevator with a morose expression. Finally easing into his armchair, Steven sighed heavily. For nearly ten years he’d felt younger than ever, but now his body was starting to remember how old it was. It wasn’t 2108 anymore, that was for sure. He reached towards a drawer to retrieve a cigar, and was surprised to feel a large, warm, round shape in the place an empty space ought to be. This struck him as highly unusual—that space was only ever occupied by his secretary/wife Sally, but she was on Aphrodite taking in the sun. And he couldn’t recall having any other mistresses. Steven, after all, was a virtuous man. After a brief moment of thought, Steven looked down to the unusual object. It was a Grgl. It appeared to be wearing a tiny, Hephaestus-blue business suit that had been adapted to its physiology. It was silently standing with a data-pad covering its small face, and remaining perfectly still. Steven would have assumed it was a statue, if it didn’t occasionally shiver. Taking a moment to survey his office, he expected to see an employee nearby to explain why the Grgl was there. Aside from himself, the room was deserted. The situation was very perplexing. Steven leaned down until his face was at the grgl’s height, and grunted. “Oi.” The Grgl’s mandibles scrabbled briefly on the data-pad, and it let out a number of frightened chrips while it shivered. Steven pushed onward. “What are you doing, mate?” “I am attempting to mask my presence,” boomed a synthesised baritone. “I did not have enough time to hide.” “Why are you hiding?” said Steven. “I am feeling intimidated. You are intimidating. I am feeling very nervous.” The translator had a strange cadence, and structured sentences in an odd, fragmented manner. The Grgl beneath chirped nervously, as it peeked out from behind its pad. “Good. I’m pretty bloody intimidating, if I do say so myself.” Steven leaned back in his chair. “Why the hell are you in my office?” “I am currently your lead accountant.” The voice boomed, though it hardly matched the nervous, shuddering Grgl. “My name is Jimothy Sonjohn. I am here to discuss matters involving the dispensation of Corporate assets.” Steven blinked in surprise. “Where’s Jim?” “I am Jim. Jimothy Sonjohn.” Replied the Grgl. “No no, Jim Bean, mate.” “Mr Bean felt that he was overwhelmed by the current duties given to him. He has placed the accountancy department in my capable claws.” Jimothy seemed to perk up, with his chirps sounding cheery and light beneath his translator. “Oh.” Steven stated flatly. “Alright, I s’pose. So ah, what do you need to talk to me about?” Jimothy quickly skittered to the chair in front of the CEO’s vast desk, and tapped his mandibles across the surface of his data-pad. “Item one on my list—Executive Woollard asks what he can do with the excess of itoron currently stockpiled on Woolongong, Grand Ares, and Bill.” “Sell it,” stated Steven flatly, as he finally retrieves a cigar. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- An ad appears around the southern galaxy. It appears to be a typical Hephaestus advertisement, but instead of a peppy young salesman, a fat, ugly, and watery-eyed man stands in front of a massive pile of rocks. You can see him visibly breathe in as a cheerful tune begins to jingle in the background. “G’day! I’m Jason Woollard! And I have a problem!" He gestures behind himself (with significant effort) and the camera zooms out suddenly to reveal an enormous pile of rocks. “I’ve got so much itoron, BUT I JUST DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH IT!! Corporate heads have officially declared itoron (along with D3-Standard Microwave-Ovens and the Purgemaster Electric Toothbrush) to be a non-vital strategic resource, and I have TWENTY-FOUR-HUNDRED TONNES OF ITORON THAT ABSOLUTELY NEED TO GO!! Prices aren’t just slashed, they’re QUANTUM-CALCULATEDLY SCORCHED IN TWAIN WITH A XYLORITE-POWERED SHELF-CLEAVER HEAVY LASER-DRILL!!! A small plaque with the word “PRICES?!?!?!” is appropriately sliced in half with a laser, with obnoxious explosion decals surrounding it. WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?! HELL IF I KNOW, BUT IT’S SO DAMN CHEAP WHO CARES WHAT I SAY?!! A number of laughing, scantily-clad babes of varying species and sexes immediately start clambering onto the massive pile and rub themselves sensually with the minerals. YOU WANT RAW ITORON?! COME AND GET IT, YOU BLOODY RIPPER! YOU WANT IT SMELTED?! AW MATE, WE HAVE SO MUCH OF THAT YOU COULD FEED A STARVING PLANET ON IT FOR A YEAR!! ARE THESE ROCK-HORNY BABES BEHIND ME EVEN ATTRACTIVE?! I HAVE NO IDEA, BECAUSE I’VE BEEN STRUCK BLIND BY THE DAZZLING ARRAY OF DEALS AVAILABLE!! Jason immediately begins packing his coat full of Itoron bars and rocks, covering himself in dust, but earning exaggerated, sultry looks from the babes behind him. THERE'S SIMPLY NO TIME!! YOU NEED TO BUY BUY BUY!!!!! BEFORE STOCK RUNS OUT!!! SO GET YOURSELF DOWN TO CRAZY JAY’S DISCOUNT MINERAL EXCAVATION WAREHOUSE SALES BONANZA!! Each word is accompanied by the sound of an explosion SEE YOU THERE, MATE! “ The face of Jason Woollard leaves your vision, but your desperate urge to purchase cut-price heavy-metals increases by the second... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Action Points 4AP by default, 20AP from trade, 6AP from population, 10AP from sectors, 3AP from business, 8AP from industry, 2AP from the Trade Federation, 1AP from cargo capacity, 50AP from Redon Imperium (One turn only), 6AP from Solar Ascendancy (One turn only). 3AP holdover from previous turn. Total = 113AP BONUSES:-Ravenous Industrialism: -5AP off industry investments, +25% manufacturing output. -National Idea, Peace: 1% extra growth on primary population. -The Sink Project. (-50AP, total of 60AP invested) -Further resources are piled into improving Corporate swarmer missiles. As an accompaniment to their eponymous laser-cannons, they needed to be as effective or better than their local competitors. (-10AP towards swarmer missiles, total of 50AP invested) -With the loss of the Thulean shipyard, the Corporation recognised the need to return to “old friends” for cost-effective warship construction. They would not be left wanting when a battle was upon them. (-24AP sent to Han Dominion for four light cruisers) -The Solar Ascendancy sends resources to Hephaestus in order to construct their Paladin Mechs, with which the Corporation complies (once equitable payment is received). (-5AP) -The exponential growth of industry leaves some corporate analysts wondering—in an emergency situation, just how many combat droids could the factories produce? Resources are allocated in order to judge the industrial output of Hephaestus Enterprises. (-11AP towards the construction of Tithonus II combat droids) -Due to administration failures in the previous year, an order for a colony ship was totally forgotten. In lieu of this, the Hades shipyard immediately begins construction in order to avoid total consumer lethargy. (-3AP for colony ship) -The advertising campaign for itoron plays in every friendly nation of the Southern galaxy. Though the ones featuring Jason Woollard are mercifully few, they all stress that there is 2400 tonnes of itoron up for grabs, and that prices are very negotiable. (-10AP for adverts.) -200 tonnes of itoron are shipped to the Edonians. Why? Uh... (-0AP) -Combat exercises and war-games are held in Corporate space. The fleet is needed in tip-top form in case of any hungry predator looking for an easy target. The Corporation releases a statement to surrounding nations before the exercises expressing that the manoeuvres are not intended as aggression or grand-standing. (-0AP)

//Text_Missing//--Please contact administrator Action Points 4AP by default, 20AP from trade, 6AP from population, 10AP from sectors, 3AP from business, 6AP from industry, 2AP from the Trade Federation, 1AP from cargo capacity. 30AP from Redon Imperium as payment for armour (One turn only), 50AP from Redon Imperium as a down-payment for energy cells. (One turn only). Total = 132AP BONUSES: -Ravenous Industrialism: -5AP off industry investments, +25% manufacturing output. -National Idea, Peace: 1% extra growth on primary population. -Though the Redons had attacked a close friend and FEZ member, a contract for energy cells had been agreed to prior to the conflict. The Corporation could not break a contract once it had agreed to one, thus manufactured the 1,000,000 energy cells. The Board would inform the Redons during the delivery of the cells that the Corporation would not be exporting any military equipment to any state for the duration of the conflict. They send their sincere apologies, and hope the Redon Imperium would consider Hephaestus Enterprises for business deals in the future. (-50AP) -Tell me something, Czar. What makes you... tingle? You know what I mean? That is to say, what makes your heart flutter? Your hands shake in excitement? What act makes blood rush to your extremities in sheer ecstasy? Perhaps it would be too racy to write it in this forum. Would a lover whisper it into your ear in the dead of night--speak softly the secrets that haunt your most sensual dreams? Would they whisper... "Industrial Investment?" A manufacturer working for Hephaestus Enterprises would. (-40AP towards Industry) -Four destroyers are constructed in the Aurora shipyard. (-12AP) -Further improvements are made to the Swarmer missiles. (-10AP, total of 40AP invested) -The Sink Project. (-10AP) -Project: Peach (-5AP) -Another colony ship is chartered for construction and launch upon the next year. (-3AP, due to Oligarchy Bonus) -Hephaestus Enterprises officially severs trade links with the United States of Arcturus due to their total lack of contact. They will be re-established once the USA resumes contact with the Human Alliance. The Corporation strongly insists that the USA speak to its ally, the Han Dominion, so trade will no longer be interrupted. (-0AP)

Is Weapon Manufacturing the Next Boom Industry? Read More at HEPH-NET! The bright, tropical sun shone down on the pearl-white sand of Aphrodite’s beaches. The resort planet’s profits had gone down during the last batch of wars, and business had slowed down with yet another looming on the horizon. This was tragic for the hotel chains, but for someone desiring a quiet beach getaway, this was perfectly fine. The soft breeze and rolling waves were only broken by the gurgling of the baby happily grasping the finger of CEO Steven Penrith. Steven doted on the child since he first laid eyes on her, and wheezed out laughter every time little Sinchil smiled. His wife and secretary, Sally, also seemed pleased, though she was up to her third glass of wine since her future daughter-in-law Aleya had arrived. Johnny stared silently out towards the ocean while his father and fiancé talked. “We met during the first semester, my Johnny and I,” chirped Aleya. Her Terraskolarian accent reminded Steve of the French, and he had even mistaken her for a Thulean at first. “When he arrived at the academy, I was volunteering in secretarial work. I believe he made a pass at me, but I’m unsure. His Firstborn was quite eclectic." She giggled at the memory. "Soon enough, he joined the academy himself, and started appearing in the same lessons as I. Such a wonderful coincidence, no?” Steven nodded, though his attention was still plainly on baby. “Well we got to talking and the rest,” she looked to John with a soft smile, “well, the rest you can probably guess.” “Yeah yeah. We can work out the logistics of the situation, sweetheart.” Another round of wheezing laughter struggled its way out of Steven’s mouth. “I never thought I’d live to see grand-kids.” “I was so surprised to learn that John was not Terraskolarian. Our species are oddly similar in appearance, aren’t they?” Aleya smiled warmly as she joined Steve by the cradle. “I always wanted to be a mother. I am not a talented psionic, but I joined the academy anyway since my family insisted. But John, he is so talented. He dazzled everyone with his abilities...” “Yeah, I’ll be sending him back to that academy after the wedding. He needs to finish that education of his, don’t you Johnny?” Steven’s gaze broke from Sinchil, and wafted to John. His eyes had a dangerous gleam. “He’s a very responsible young man, and he’ll be working very, very hard so he can come back to his new family. Won’t you, Johnny?” “He’s going back?” Aleya looked between Steven and John with a forlorn expression. “I had hoped he would spend more time w-“ “No no no, lovey! We never waste an investment. But don’t worry—we’ll make sure you and the little one here will be very comfortable. Hades is a little ah, grittier than Aphrodite, but you’ll be in the lap of luxury. Besides, we can’t really afford to hold a properly lavish wedding or pay for his next round of education until next year. Bloody war.” Aleya immediately perked up. “So it means John will be here until next year?” “That’s right, sweetie! And I’m sure he’ll be very pleased to spend every moment he can with you. Because my John is a responsible, gracious fiancé. Aren’t you, Johnny, mate?" Johnny Penrith said nothing. His mother poured herself another glass of wine. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The monolithic HCAC tower loomed over the chaotic sprawl of factories, warehouses and businesses that littered the surface of Hades. Far above the wafting smog and milling throngs of traders, industrialists, and entrepreneurs, a man with the most difficult job in the Corporation was preparing himself for a drunken bender. Jim Bean, lead negotiator, lead accountant, and administrator for the HERMES program poured himself a glass of synthetic brandy. He wouldn’t usually indulge in drinking during office hours, but frankly he was at the end of his tether. His bloodshot eyes and the bags beneath them spoke volumes of his workload. The scattered papers and data-pads around his previously pristine office seemed to reflect the frustration and stress his job brought. He just had to hold off from drunkenness for just a little longer—he just needed to smile his way through the interview and then inebriated oblivion awaited. A gentle tap on his door announced the arrival of his guest. Jim quickly flattened his hair, forced out his smile and cleared his throat. “Come on in, mate.” After a few moments of fiddling with the door-handle, a small, orb-like creature skittered into the room. Its small, grasping mandibles were a little short to reach most human-sized doors, and it waited awkwardly in the doorway. Jim immediately stood up, and cheerily gestured towards the chair in front of his desk. “Sit on down Mr Gnrry- ah, Gnrruyg-“ “Do not worry, Mr Bean.” Boomed a deep, synthesised voice from the Grgl. Jim could hear faint chirps and gurgles beneath the voice’s unnatural sound--clearly the Grgl was using an advanced translator. It was possibly one of the new models that could translate inflections and tone, judging from how the voice sounded somewhat sympathetic. He could have sworn he heard a similar voice in an old sci-fi movie he saw a while back. “I understand that the Xaplonius standard speech is terribly difficult for your species. I have already chosen a new name that reflects the culture of Hephaestus Enterprises, and my desire to integrate myself further into the Corporation. You may call me Jimothy Sonjohn.” “Right, so ah, Jimothy.” Jim took a moment to gather up some of the papers on his desk, if nothing else than appear to be in control of his surroundings. “I’ve been looking over your accomplishments during the last few years. McPhaestus was a dying franchise, and you turned it completely around. You’re the owner of almost half the family restaurants in corporate space, am I right?” Jimothy bounced in his seat with a flurry of excited chirps clearly audible over the translation. “I am very proud of my efforts. Furthermore, I am deeply pleased that you have noticed.” “Hard not to, Jimmy my friend. Look, here’s the rub of the situation.” Jim Bean could feel the muscles in his cheeks begin to wobble. After nearly 36 hours of ceaseless smiling, they were starting to get tired. He needed to end this chat quickly. “Another war is gearing up, we have a whole heap of money going to different places, and I’m running three departments. I’d like to offer you the position of lead accountant.” The tiny grgl’s black eyes blinked at him for a moment. It’s mandibles covered its chirping mouth in what was possibly shock. “I am surprised. I am also bewildered. I am also frightened. I am also happy. I am experiencing oscillating emotions,” the translator boomed. “Ha! That’s fantastic, Jimmy-my-man!” Jim Bean tossed a data-pad towards the Grgl, who caught it clumsily. “Right. There are all the figures. You start tomorrow!” “Tomorrow?” The grgl exclaimed with a tinge of confusion. “This amount of time is simply too short to accustom myself to my new duties and-” “Yeah it’s great, huh? Straight to the grindstone! Nose right up in the arse of Corporate issues! You’re one hell of a team-player, Sonjohn!” Jim Bean quickly began to bustle the confused Grgl out of his office. “Give me a call in a week and tell me how it’s going, baby! We’ll do lunch! Really hash out the knitty gritty! Ciao ciao!” He closed the door before the grgl could utter another word. As the confused Jimothy quickly pitter-pattered his way off to his own office, the former lead account proceeded to get extraordinarily drunk. It appeared he’d be having a long weekend. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Action Points 4AP by default, 20AP from trade, 6AP from population, 10AP from sectors, 3AP from business, 6AP from industry, 2AP from the Trade Federation, 1AP from cargo capacity. 30AP from Redon Imperium (One turn only) Total = 82AP BONUSES: -Ravenous Industrialism: -5AP off industry investments, +25% manufacturing output. -National Idea, Peace: 1% extra growth on primary population. -What's better than a large manufacturing order from a massive and wealthy empire? Nothing. There was nothing better for Hephaestus. The Redons wanted 200,000 combat suits? They would get 200,000 combat suits by the end of the year, and then some!. The fumes from the factories begin to churn as resources are poured in to the billowing maw of Corporate industry. (-30AP) -All things must come to an end, much like good deals with good friends. Two hulking dreadnoughts are commissioned from the Han shipyards. (-24AP) -Tired of listening to the Thuleans incessant cries, The Board invests a modest sum of resources to their shipyard. If nothing more than to keep their solicitors at bay for another year. (-10AP) -War is a scary thing, and thus more money would be invested into the zappy-zaps that keep the bad things away. (-6AP towards Laser Cannons. Total of 50AP invested) -The discrete services of Kyber Core were much appreciated. The corporation pays them their dues, and makes a note to send a Christmas card to them at the end of the year. (-4AP to Kyber Core) -The maiden voyage of the MOVING MEGA-MARTS (TM) Affordable, and the newly modified Trucker Bill are planned. A trip to the Confederation of Xalponius is chartered to gauge the interest from xeno nations. A modest advertising campaign is played on Grgl media outlets advertising products, prices, and a list of planets they would be visiting. Tickets to enter the MEGA-MARTS would be 75% off to celebrate the first official outing... (-3AP towards business) -On the subject of advertising, another campaign is set up by the visiting HERMES agents on New Siam. Hephaestus was looking for employees! Meet interesting people, see exotic aliens, see the even more exotic escort agencies! There was something for everyone at Hephaestus! Leaflets are distributed to the Siamese, boasting the job opportunities currently available in Corporate space. (-2AP towards business) -Begrudgingly, the Board orders the limited manufacturing of Ares III laser rifles. They would be delivered (For FREE, no less. Outrageous...) to the Edonians upon completion. (-1AP) -A pittance is sent to the Han Dominion, in order to make up the extra cost accrued by the construction of two dreadnoughts. (-1AP) -The Sink Project. (-1AP) (Mod plesh) -The Corporate fleet conducts manoeuvres and drills to keep them sharp. Being a big, blobby fleet, it expects to see some action soon. (-0AP)

What YOU can make, we make 5-times Faster (And cheaper!)!! //Connecting_to: Heph-Net—Inter-Corporate Newsletter//... //Loading_Scripts//... //Loading_UI//... //Loading_DEALS!//... //WELCOME_USER: -- JimBOOMBABY//... //HEPH-NET: Inter-Corporate Newsletter\\ //--The Latest in Corporate News, and Employment Opportunities!--\\ Please Begin your OAP (Obligatory Advertisement Perusal) time, mandated by HEPH-NET user Contract sub-clause 88B1. VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV Hi, JimBOOMBABY! You are subscribed to adverts under tagged subjects: GUNS , SHOPPING , COFFEE , BLAGL_RESTERAUNT , BABES , ANTIQUING Tagged Subject: GUNS

Sign up for our Intern Program! Meet Exotic Sentients!! Several years ago, Hephaestus Enterprises purchased a system previously colonised by the PAR. It was a terribly silly place to colonise, really. Likely it had been a ploy to appeal to the Aurorans during the bidding over their colony. “See? We neighbour you too!” Excessive wastefulness was a hallmark of non-corporates. Though, being excessively wasteful was a hell of a lot of fun. “So the Krauts do the swap and leave, yeah? And my HERMES admin gal, Miranda I think her name was, figures that a good way to make the place feel ‘new and fresh’ would be to rename the planet. Guess what these grease-necked miners voted to name it?” Jim Bean, lead accountant and head of HERMES, sat in the chair opposite from Steven. His practised, toothy smile seemed to take up half of his rosy face. HERMES agents were known to smile for an unnaturally long duration, but no-one knew how they managed it. It was rumoured they had synthetic tendons planted in their cheeks, but Steve never saw any scars. “Bill! They named the planet Bill! I tell you, boss--that Aurora union really buggered our branding. Everyone wants to name their dumb planets after their dogs, or something. What next, a planet named after a cheese?” Steven looked down on the little mining colony below him. His air-car swooped over the pock-marked landscape where workers pushed their laser-drills into the itoron-rich earth. In the distance, freighters were carting off the ore to Grand Ares to be processed. The colony was still too small to bother doing it here. “Isn’t Jason supposed to be here?” Steven remarked, poorly masking the outright hostility in his voice. Jim was quick to notice this, and toned down his cheery attitude. “Mr Woolard is currently on Woolongong, sir. He’s preparing the payment to the Han-“ “Preparing the fuckin’ payment to the Han, hey?” Steven spat, his wrinkled face scrunched into a unpleasant scowl. “Buying up damn slaves-“ “Which you agreed to, sir.” “Which I was pushed into agreeing with, Jimbo. You may have convinced those dimwits on the Board, but you haven’t convinced me. This is a PR nightmare. Hephaestus Enterprises purchasing slaves?!” Steven rubbed his temples in exasperation. “My dad would be hounding you out of his office with a bullwhip.” Jim kept his gaze low and endured his employer’s fiery temper. “You listen here, Jimmy my old mate.” Steven glared at his accountant with silent fury. “If this hurts this Corporation’s PR, I swear to the Old Man, Christ and God himself that I will kick you so far down the ladder you’ll be sweeping streets on Aurora just to make ends meet. You understand? You live or die on this deal, Jim.” The rest of the flight was pretty awkward. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Action Points: -4AP by default, -16AP from trade (8AP x 2 due to federation), -5AP from population, -9AP from sectors, -3AP from business, -4AP from industry. Total = 41AP -[Redacted] (-4AP, total of 6AP invested) -Chiron Armaments, the manufacturer of the Ares series of laser weapons, feel that the brand is starting to lose its lustre. Despite several years of profitable ventures in the warship market, a fresh new rifle design is offered up. The Ares III: Not only will it have upgrades to power-efficiency and damage output, it would also include dual-firing modes. The simplicity of laser-weapons would theoretically make swapping crystal arrays equally simple. So why not have a laser-rifle that could be switched to a scatter-laser at the press of a button? (-6AP, total of 19AP invested in laser-weapons) -Yet more resources and technicians are sent to the Han Dominion for the construction of a battleship, and another heavy cruiser. (14AP) -Further improvements are scheduled for the Hephaestus laser-lances. There will never be an end to the improvement. They will be improved until there is nothing left to improve upon. (-10AP, total of 44AP invested) -The swarmer missiles are similarly improved alongside the lances. They are equally important for the corporate fleet, after all. (-5AP, total of 20AP invested) -Johnny is a very good young lad, and has high hopes for his psychic education. Though he succeeds in his studies, he feels unsatisfied with his seduction skills. He vows to double his efforts in macking on fly honeys. Money is sent to pay for his education, regardless of his peculiar tastes in extracurricular activities. (-1AP) -A new colony is founded on the planet "Parmesan." (-0AP) -Having established their section of GTC-East last year, the Corporation begins preliminary scans of former Corruptor territory around the outpost (within a 5 x 5 square) for salvage or other things of interest. (-0AP)

Our Posts are Cost-efficient AND Fantastic Value!! As the last Ka’cezh warships finally departed Hephaestus space, the marketeers collectively sighed and gave their fondest farewells. “Come back any time!” –the phrase uttered the most by the businessmen, had a melancholy tone to it despite their best efforts to keep it cheerful. The capital obtained from the Ka’cezh was the stuff of legends, now. They were stories to regale young children with, along with the awe-inspiring fleets of warships that buried themselves in the blood and gore of the corruptor menace. The spiders were dead, but so were the profits. It was a sad end to a miserable war. And yet, despite the loss of money, despite the billions of lives spent, despite the hardships, the fear, and anxiety, they were finally safe. Every employee could sleep at night knowing that the monsters were slain. No matter who reigned in the galaxy, at least they weren’t mutating spider-men. In the words of the New Sephorites and the Maltese, ‘God be praised.’ Hephaestus ordered all synth-alcohol products to be marked down 50%, and proclaimed a yearly Corporate-wide celebration for the newly-named “Extinction Day;” the first (and probably only) sanctioned inter-corporate holiday. Streets filled with jubilant employees as spontaneous parties erupted in every city and Habi-dome. It was as if a horrible, heavy weight had been lifted off their shoulders. A new, pure galaxy awaited their children, and investment. But even in times of loss, there is profit to be made. The newest GTC outpost offered a number of less scrupulous individuals a unique opportunity. Tales from the Ka'cezh troopers revealed stories of dead civilisations buried in the masses of corruptor-corpses. A dead civilisation's trinkets would be worth a significant amount of money, and that was assuming there wouldn't be other things worth digging out of the dust and ash. Young Johnny begins his tertiary education. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Action Points 4AP by default, 16AP from trade (8 x 2 from prosperity bonus), 5AP from population, 9AP from sectors, 3AP from business, 4AP from industry, 7AP from USA (Single payment) Total = 48AP -The Corporation once more rings the doorbell of the Grand Aurora Institute of Technology. The laser-lances utilised by the Hephaestus warships require further improvement. Until the weapons were on par with the rest of the galaxy the corporation would never be satisfied. (-9AP, total of 34AP invested) -While they were there, they also requested improvements on their swarmer-missiles. (-5AP, total of 15AP invested) -Further resources are sent to the Han Dominion for the construction of one battleship and one heavy cruiser for the Corporate fleet. (-14AP) -Resources, technicians, and guards are sent off with the Trade Federation colonisation vessels in order to construct a salvage/trade operation at the new GTC outpost. The dead civilisations would no doubt hold plunder worth taking, even after the Ka’cezh were finished looking over it. (-10AP towards GTC-East trade station) -A new order from the United States of Arcturus; shiploads of resources are set to corporate warehouses in order to construct a number of Tithonus Mk. II combat droids. They would be delivered to US space upon completion. (-6AP) -A colony ship is ordered to be constructed. (-3AP) -Johnny goes to college, baby! Now, some people get scholarships to go to Harvard, but some of us have to grind through community-college in order to apply. Johnny may be an uncouth businessman, but he isn't stupid. He'd work his hardest and reward himself by hitting on the attractive Da'nor students. (-1AP)

25% of all Proceeds to to Survivors of Tragic Conflicts! The titanic battleship soared across the Hades skyline, attracting the looks of many curious bystanders planet-side. They had not been informed of any warships in the shipyard that year, but the vessel was unmistakably corporate. It's odd blue tint and - frankly - obtuse shape were hallmarks of Hephaestus shipwrights at this point. Those aboard the shipyards and trade-stations around Hades could see that the vessel wasn't yet entirely finished. Large holes dotted strategic portions of the ship which would undoubtedly hold vast arrays of laser-cannons, lances, and missiles. As it docked with the Hades shipyard, dozens of tiny vessels started zipping all around it like irritable flies. Each one carrying weapons to be attached. The largest weapons, nearing one-hundred metres in length, were carried by a duo of small freighters. Looking out a window of her headquarters aboard the frigate Jin Jin, Amanda Phelps rolled back-and-forth on her heels, gleefully gazing at her newest toy. This was exactly what she had been hoping for when she had joined the Corporate naval program. Big, scary battleships with huge, shooty guns! She could barely contain her school-girl giggles as a colossal frontal laser-lance was gently guided into it's respective place. It was starting to look like a real warship, now! The beautiful warship didn't have a name yet, but Amanda had been given the honour of assigning it one (since the Board couldn't be bothered). She was giddy with excitement, and she had the perfect title for it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The industrial district of Hades was constructed in the 2120’s under the premise of supplying more products to neighbouring colonies and alien nations. By 2143, it covered large portions of the planet, save from a surprisingly popular tourist-trap. Hundreds of billowing smoke-stacks poured choking smog into the vacuum of the atmosphere-less Hades. Strange mists produced by the ceaseless manufacturing wafted around the planet’s surface nowadays, creating a dream-like fog among the structures and habi-domes that dotted the planet’s featureless landscape. Deep within these cavernous factories, a father was talking to his son about mental health. “Dad, c’mon! Don’t make me go! I don’t want to go! I have businesses to run! I’m opening another two locations this month and I have to be p-“ John was cut off sharply by his cantankerous father. The CEO was not in the mood to be argued with. “Bloody hell, Johnny! I’m trying to do what’s best for you! Next year I won’t have any ownership rights to force you anywhere, you know! You’re going to see a psionic about these dreams you keep having!” Turning to his son, Steven’s face was marked with equal parts concern and irritation, as any good father’s should be. Today the two of them weren’t surrounded by HERMES agents, Enforcers, or members of the Board. Instead, the pair was skulking around the endless gangways of the industrial district's factories. “Don’t get on my nerves today, my boy. Firstly, that turd of a Firstborn Margek couldn’t be bothered to answer my call. That’s gratitude for you. What a waste of an investment.” Steven gestured dramatically around himself and roared with exasperation. “And now, bloody TERMINATORS are popping out of the ground and throwing together STARSHIPS just outside our property! Can you even imagine just how stressed I am, sonny?” John looked at his feet and stuffed his hands into his pockets. With his teeth clenched hard, he nodded slowly with a reddening face. Steven paused and stood in place for a moment and rubbed his temples with a vocal sigh. “Look, John. Like I said, I want the best for you. These dreams of yours are going to kill your PR one day -- especially if you have an episode like that last one again. Screaming and shooting your bedroom’s upholstery is not a way to deal with frustrating night-terrors.” John grumbled beneath his breath, and held back a flurry of rude words. Steven continued to gesticulate around himself with considerable gusto. He became quite melodramatic during meetings when he had nothing to shoot at. “I don’t trust that psychological tripe, so you’re going to see a space-wizard. There’ll be fewer paparazzi that way. The wizards will poke around in your head a bit, snip out the offending dream, and that will be that.” Steven gave John one more hard glare. “Understood?” With a grunt and a scowl, John agreed with a silent nod. “Good.” Steven turned around and marched down the gangway, yelling back to John through the steam and industrial noise. “Don’t forget to say goodbye to your mum before you go!” John leaned on the railing and stared down at the factory floor beneath him. The employees hadn’t even noticed he was up here. The rapidly assembled microwaves were being shunted off to their destination almost faster than the employees could put them together them. They clearly had very little time to observe their surroundings. The young man felt almost like one of the microwaves being sent off for quality testing – getting all the dings and flaws smoothed out before being shipped off. His father may just be worrying about the future of the company, but there was a machine-like compulsion from the old man to make sure his son was in perfect shape. It was like he was running on a schedule, or something. John rested his head on the railing, and groaned. Did psionics even work the way his father thought they did? Did his father know anything outside of business? And so John trudged back home to pack his things, and kiss his mum goodbye. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Action Points 4AP by default, 12AP from trade (x2 from prosperity federation bonus), 4AP from 8th Crusade, 5AP from population, 9AP from sectors, 2AP from business, 3AP from industry. Total = 39AP -Giving a year’s grace-period for the unfortunate events of the Eadni conflict to blow over, the Board orders the biggest PR-boosting advertising campaign ever put into practice. The subject of the advertising is - of course - war. Having their products exported just about everywhere, Hephaestus caters to individual nations in order to pull on the appropriate heart-strings. They wanted to show that Hephaestus was a 'family' business, and that most of all they were beings with feelings too. For the next three years in: -Tassaran space, 25% of profits from sales will be donated to injured veterans in the Corruptor war. -Grgl space, 25% of profits from sales will be donated to injured veterans of the Corruptor war. -Galaron space, 25% of profits from sales will be donated towards rebuilding devastated planets. -Karass space, 25% of profits from sales will be donated towards rebuilding devastated planets. -In Lithruan space, 25% of sales will be donated towards the Lithruan’s war-effort against the Keerim. -In Protorian and Redon space, 25% of profits will be donated to injured veterans. Hephaestus understands that war is a dreadful thing, but sometimes it has to be done. What matters now is picking the pieces up, and putting the galaxy back together as best one can. A process that can now be aided by purchasing Hephaestus products. (-16AP) -When you go to bed, what do you dream about, Pok/Czar? Unicorns? A well-cooked breakfast? A plethora of scantily-clad babes? No doubt you see plenty of fantastical things! Do you know what a Hephaestus miner dreams about? Mining. They love mining so much they may as well be dwarfs. Sometimes they have to get their wives/husbands to dress up like minerals just to get them randy enough for bedroom antics. Holy ****. They NEED that itoron, bro. They need to extract it DEEP from the QUIVERING mineshafts in THICK veins of minerals that dot the many worlds of Hephaestus. More mines are what they need on their itoron worlds. (-10AP) -With the Corruptor war winding up, Hephaestus deems it necessary to invest further into their economic presence. A new upgrade to the trade-station over Hades is ordered. (-10AP) -[Redacted] (-3AP) -Upon hearing about the sudden appearance of sentient robots, the Board makes no official statement. However, the nearest claimed systems to the robots are patrolled more regularly and thoroughly than usual. Clearly, they’re a little nervous about their new neighbour. (-0AP) -An open advertisement is sent out from the Corporation to anywhere in the southern galaxy where psionics congregate. The message reads as thus: “Son of wealthy industrialist seeking reputable psionic institution to help with troublesome dreams. Non-psionics need not apply.” Aside from the relevant contact information, all Hephaestus iconography is absent from the missive. (-0AP)