The Albatross

OOC: hmm i cant stop double posting?

(This message has been edited by Valence (edited 07-17-2003).)

OOC: Don't worry about the double posting, it's not that irritating. I'm beginning to wish I hadn't taken Shade off the station now. What to do today, what to do...

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"As you are now, I once was.
As I am now, so shall you be.
So come, prepare to follow me."
- Unknown Epitaph

OOC: Wow, this bar is actually serious now! I'll join too, if you guys don't mind. We might as well be in the same time period, Valence, so this will be after BSS for my chars too.
The Nova board hasn't been working for me either, but it worked today.

With a flash, a sleek black ship entered the system, cruising slowly towards the station. It looked a bit like an Azdara, though it looked slightly more streamlined, and it's wings were bent back along the ships body. Four red stripes began at the nose and moved back, adjacent to the wings. Blue writing on the side spelled out the name Kamikaze. The pilot was clearly in no sort of rush, and as the ship drew closer it became apparent that no type of weapon was on the ship whatsoever. Kamikaze landed easily, and an attractive young woman disembarked. She was clad in tight black leather, with a long black cloak to match. On her shoulder sat a pitch-black falcon, which leered at everyone who approached her. Drawing her cloak around her and pushing back her long dark hair, she entered the bar just in time to hear the bartender's yell about a med bay. Taking stock of the situation in about a second, Larra strode towards the collapsed man, completely ignoring the bartender, and put a hand to his neck to check his pulse. A quick look of recognition crossed her face before her indifferent gaze returned. Carefully she put a hand on his chest, and a soft red light began to emit and spread from her rapidly heating touch. Before the light could completely cover him, Larra stopped it, almost swooning, and touching a hand to her head. The falcon, having perched on a stool, gave a small screech. The red light vanished, though most of Page's injuries remained. It must have done some good, though, because as Larra stood up and the falcon returned to her shoulder, Page began to return to consciousness.

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IF U CN RD THS U CNT SPL WRTH A DM

OOC: This is many years after BSS, Page somehow was teleported into this universe, after a fight, I'll post it at the end of the next nova bar. He has some sort of amnesia and has no memory of BSS or any of the bargoers, w/ the exception of one. He is still somewhat aware of his powers.

Pages right eye opens, and adjusts to the light. He looks over the woman kneeling over him, and again closes. with a grunt the thin man sits up and shakes his head. In doing so his hood slips off revealing a mess of black hair, limp and thick.
"Stopped doing your hair i see?" Larra asked smiling.
"excuse me?" says Page blinking with his one eye. Larra scans the man carefully. He looked exactly like Page and the sight of Antaries at a corner table rids any doubt from her mind and that this man was the same Page she recognized from BSS.
"Page?" she asked.
"who is Page?" Page replied cooly struggling to his feet.
Larra stood helping the tall man to his feet. "Do you remember me? Larra? Bright Star Station?"
"Sorry doesnt ring a bell," Page swooned heavily only t be caught by Larra.
"Can you remember anything?"
A searing pain slipped up Pages left arm, and he grabbed it, gritting his teeth.
"Are you okay?"
"Just fine."
Page stepped away from Larra and made his way to his Table. He returned the cigarette to his mouth and removed his cloak. Under the cloak was skintight black clothing. A metal shoulder guard was perched on his left, and a strap wrapped across his upper chest, a few inches below his armpits. The Skin tight black shirt he wore had no redeeming qualities, woth the exception of the olde english text on the back. It read: The Bad Catholics, crusadin' catholic killa's from new calcutta
At his waste was one belt that halfway around his waist split into two. The seccond belt swooped downward and covered the upper thigh of his left leg. Attatched to the branching belt was a holster, where a gun, of unfarmiliar design to the Override universe, sat. His Pants were also skin tight, making his already thin legs look thinner. There isnt really anything significant about his simple boots. They reach only barely above ankle, and that part is covered by his tight pants. Right below the large sholder guard are two metal rings wrapped around his arm about an inch apart.
Page looked to Larra and cocked his head slightly. "What did you say my name was?"
"Page."
"Page?" Page returned his gaze to the table at which he sat, and took a long pull from his cigarette. "And what is your name?" he said smiling slightly, light reflcting off the many earrings on his ears and the on on the left side of his lower lip.
"Larra, I jus-"
Page got to his feet and gathered his belongings quickly.
"where are you going?" said a slightly agitated Larra
"Elsewhere."
Larra dashed to the door, just before Page could reach it, and drew a sword.
"If you leave, I'll need to hunt you down again, I've searched for weeks and now that ive found you, you must stay here. If you wish to leave, you'll need to get through me first."
Page reached for the handle behind her, only to have his hand batted away by her free hand.
"Beleive me Larra... This is not a good desicion on your part..."

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"WE ARE THE POPES OF THE PYROS!!" "WE ARE THE CRUSADERS OF CAPELLA!!" "THE FRIARS OF FIRE!!"
"THE BAPTISTS OF BORAL 1!!!!" "THE CATHOLIC KILLERS OF NEW CALCUTTA!!!!!!"
"WE ARE THE GOOD!! no.. no... THE BAD!!! yeah.. thats it.. THE BAD CATHOLICS!!!"

Okay, Valence, I'll bite. Why is Larra hunting down Page, and why does the sound of her name chase him away?

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IF U CN RD THS U CNT SPL WRTH A DM

OOC: when i said hunting down i meant tracking down. Page doesnt remember her, or even his own name. the only name he remembers is Jasan. He's denying the fact that she knows him, and instead of confronting her he's trying to leave. To my knowledge, Page and Larra are the only ones who have gotten transfered to the EVO universe so it makes sence that Larra would want to find Page, and letting him leave her alone is definately out of the question. Make sence?

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"WE ARE THE POPES OF THE PYROS!!" "WE ARE THE CRUSADERS OF CAPELLA!!" "THE FRIARS OF FIRE!!"
"THE BAPTISTS OF BORAL 1!!!!" "THE CATHOLIC KILLERS OF NEW CALCUTTA!!!!!!"
"WE ARE THE GOOD!! no.. no... THE BAD!!! yeah.. thats it.. THE BAD CATHOLICS!!!"

Svass Station, Svass

"Who do you think he spoke with?" The two were walking down a dimly lit corridor in the station that Grand Admiral Zathe Voltok had transformed into Voinian military command.

"I have no idea, Somm. For all we know, the entire old command is gone. Voltok was only a cruiser commander when we served with him. It was only because the old admiral died in battle on the Human front at the same time as the Renegade War that he got promoted for his brilliant strategies on the eastern border."

"And that was the same reason we were upped to generals."

"Exactly." They rounded a corner and began down another corridor, the one that ended in the conference room.

"Maybe General Hisst is still around."

"Maybe."

"Well, we'll know in a moment."

They entered the conference room, and saluted when they saw who else was there. Admiral Voltok was there, of course, but so were three other high-ranking Voinians. General Hisst was indeed there, for which Somm and Shek were glad; they had gotten along well with the old intelligence chief when they had worked with him before. The swordmasters did not recognize the other two.

"At ease," said Voltok. "Please, everyone, take a seat." When the table was surrounded by the six, the Admiral leaned across the table. "Allow me to introduce Vice Admiral M'veld, commander of the Emalgha front, and the commander of the Human front, Vice Admiral Regel." Shek and Lelos nodded in greeting. The two vice admirals returned the gesture.

"Shek and Lelos," addressed Zathe, making it clear that from this point on the meeting was to be somewhat informal, "tell Felh of your proposal. Regel and M'veld will listen and offer what they can if they see that they can be of assistance without compromising their war theatres' security."

The two had agreed earlier that Somm would begin, and Shek would drop comments as well. "Ever since we retired, we've kept our eyes open for potential threats in the galaxy. We believe we have found one."

Shek continued the summary. "The Blue Hand criminal syndicate has spread halfway across the known galaxy, which can only mean they have a fleet, and a large one at that."

"We believe them to be a potential threat to galactic security because, for them to have spread so far so quickly, they must have the support of some regional governments. I know this was true for where I was living," added Lelos.

General Felh Hisst nodded in understanding. "And you think that some of these governments may have already fallen to them?"

"It's certainly a possibility," agreed Shek. "And I think that possibility alone makes them a threat. If the Blue Hand finds a world to take, they could establish a powerful production base."

"And they have more advanced technology than the Human renegades. If their fleets are as large as we think, then they could gain a foothold in Human renegade space, if they haven't already. The presence of their agent in Hatuli makes me believe that they are moving to expand toward the west," concluded Somm.

A prolonged silence showed Shek and Lelos that the Voinian commanders comprehended the meaning of that final statement.

Voltok spoke. "So you see, gentlemen, I believe it is in the interest of the Voinian Grand Empire to find out the validity of our Dur'achi friends' suspicions. General Hisst, your organization is best equipped to deal with this. Admirals, keep reserve detachments in the border regions and in the systems immediately behind them, especially on our eastern border, just in case we see another Renegade War."

"Aye sir."

"Now, General Hisst, I suggest that you and Generals Somm and Sunrunner go develop a plan for searching out this Blue Hand. I want tangible evidence of their threat. Dismissed."

==============

OOC:

I've realized that I've been slowly developing the Dur'achi as I go along, but that it may not be quite clear who they are. If anyone wants me to post a description of their planet and their race, please, let me know, and I'll be happy to craft one and have it up in my next post.

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All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring; Renewed shall be blade that was broken, The crownless again shall be king.
—J. R. R. Tolkien
(url="http://"http://www.ambrosiasw.com/cgi-bin/ubb/search.cgi?action=intro&default;=26")The Search Feature(/url)

Quote

Originally posted by Valence:
**Make sence?

**

OOC: It does until you throw Larra's personality and some of her background into the plot. She's been dimentional travelling since she was sixteen, sometimes alone. She came to the Override universe, which she has been to before, to visit the Azdgari because part of Kamikaze's design is based on the Azdara. Bored she began wandering around, and happened to stop in the Albatross. Larra was just as surprised to see Page as he was to see her. If she tried to stop him it would be more out of concern for him than her.
If you don't mind I will rewrite after Page says "Elsewhere" /OOC

Larra sighed as she watched Page's retreating back. Slipping her hand in her cloak, she called out: "Page." Slowly Page turned, just in time to see a small silver object flying to the right of his head. Instinctively he caught it. It looked a bit like a small television remote, except with a small screen on the top half. On the back was an 8 figure star design, colored red, black, and blue.
"What is it?" Page asked.
"My spare communicator, "Larra replied. "Go where you like and do what you will, but if you need a hand my other number is entry seven on memory."
Without a word, Page turned and left. Sitting down at the bar, Larra asked the bartender for a pina colada, and payed with the correct money for the Override universe.

OOC: Is that okay, Valence?

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IF U CN RD THS U CNT SPL WRTH A DM

OOC: Thats fine. By the way ive decided this is a year or two after BSS, so think Larras skills would be somewhat more developed.

Page stepped down the hallway staggering every other step or so. He knew he was in no condition to be going back into space. It was confusing up there. None of the star systems were exactly like he remembered them, but they werent that much different. Also he did not understand why none of the normal systems were there. All of this thinking had began to hurt his head, and he needed to lean against the wall. A few patrons contorted their faces when they saw the thin unkempt man, and walked around him, leaving a good sdistance from them and him.
"Page?" he asked himself, "It cant be?"
All of the sudden his arm began to burn and a memory almost as painful as the cracks seeped through the looming fog that was distorting.

Two armored men spun around in intriquite weave enhanced battle. One of the men was unmistakably Page, though his hair was in its normal fashion, messily spiked. His opponent weilded a massive sword which glowed a dark red. The two men locked blades and struggled against eachothers strength. Page could not see what was coming but the other man did. he leapt back, as a hail of cannon fire fell from the heavens, and shards of metal tore through Pages skin. All went bleakly white, as the earth crumbled under ship cannons

As Page emerged from the flashback he found himself on the floor. Once again he struggled to his feet, and staggered down the hall to his shuttle. Upon entering the shuttle, and plopping down in his room aboard the tiny ship, he looked at the communicator Larra had given him. It was a jewel of a machine, and the shiny silvery finish differed from the dull room in the shuttle. Page put the communictor on a shelf above the folded down bed and lied down.
He didnt even bother to remove clothing or his boots. As he closed his eyes he ignored the blinding pain and sent out his minds eye to watch the bar in case it was either happy hour, or if he felt he was needed..

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"WE ARE THE POPES OF THE PYROS!!" "WE ARE THE CRUSADERS OF CAPELLA!!" "THE FRIARS OF FIRE!!"
"THE BAPTISTS OF BORAL 1!!!!" "THE CATHOLIC KILLERS OF NEW CALCUTTA!!!!!!"
"WE ARE THE GOOD!! no.. no... THE BAD!!! yeah.. thats it.. THE BAD CATHOLICS!!!"

Larra sat quietly at the bar, her feet up on a table, staring into space. Had the other bar patrons not been so drunk, they might have noticed that her falcon had turned into a large black wolf, which was quietly studying Larra's face.
"You' re worried," he teased suddenly. Larra didn't move.
"Of course I'm worried," she replied. "Someone I know who probably hasn't dimentional travelled in his life suddenly shows up in a different dimension with no memory and some strange injury on his arm that I get a headache when I try to heal. If that isn't reason to be worried, I don't know what is."
The wolf frowned. "Is that why you couldn't finish healing him?"
"Yes," Larra said thoughtfully, "at least I think so. I have been using telepathy an awful lot lately. I might be worn out."
The wolf went back to drinking out of a bowl. What was in it Larra didn't know, nor did she want to know.
"Don't get drunk again, Demon," Larra muttered before closing her eyes, though she didn't sleep, immersing herself in thought instead.

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IF U CN RD THS U CNT SPL WRTH A DM

Svass Station, Svass

He absorbed all the information racing down the many screens in the instant it went by, thanks to the datahelm. It was a remarkable machine, really. Made at the Isled labs, the datahelm allowed the wearer to view, process, and incorporate into one's general understanding vast amounts of information in a relatively small amount of time. Already Shek had gone through nine years' worth of Voinian Intelligence records in six hours, and soon he'd be done with the rest.

It was intriguing. There was surprisingly little information regarding the Blue Hand, but that didn't stop him from thinking they weren't there. Billy Joe's cat smuggling had been a front for the Blue Hand; the same was true for their operatives on Hrinix, the hrineese poachers. There was no reason to assume that it was different in Voinian space.

No different, except that the Voinians were rather quick at shutting such operations down. The government was used to being the ones running such activities. And no Voinian government had ever wanted competition.

He waded through another year's worth of reports, conclusions, files, records, and operation summaries. It really was interesting how well the Voinian intelligence agency did its job. It was also somewhat frightening that a government could know so much about its own citizens, as well as its enemies. After another few minutes, Shek deactivated the datahelm and took it off.

"About time, Sunrunner," laughed Hisst.

"We thought you might have fallen asleep," added Lelos.

Shek shook his head. Tired was a fitting description for his current condition, but he couldn't sleep yet. Reaching for a stylus, he began writing down some key notes on the reports he thought were relevant to his investigation.

"Hisst, I understand that you've got your hands full keeping insurgents in line and getting tabs on UE military communications, but I'm surprised you let this through." Shek was scribbling a flow chart of the various criminal organizations and illicit groups that frequented Voinian space.

"It was always considered too small a problem to mandate action."

Shek stopped his writing and looked up at the intelligence chief, giving him a sharp look. "I recall that once you said something that contradicts that."

" 'Historically, empires have fallen as much to erosion by the small as they have to ruination by the great,' " quoted Lelos. "You said that eleven years ago, General."

Hisst stood thinking for a moment, and then forced a laugh. "I did, didn't I?"

"Yes," agreed Shek. "But by my analysis you won't lose the empire to this. They haven't had enough time to set permanent roots and tear apart the pavement over the course of the years. I need to keep looking for more clues on this, though."

"You intend to leave the Empire."

"Leave its borders, yes." Shek stood and faced General Felh Hisst. "I will never leave the Empire, Felh. I am loyal to the military that accepted me when no one else would, when I could not return to my people until my brother's death was avenged. I know that few others would say the same of the Empire, but I know where my loyalties lie." As he headed out of the room, followed closely by Lelos, Shek turned back one final time. "I'll return again, Felh. But not until I see Justice done."

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

"Well, they're leaving. What do you think will happen?"

"Admiral Voltok, I wouldn't worry about it. Both General Sunrunner and General Somm have excellent service records. I'm sure they'll report back when they're done."

"Yes, I agree. But I have no way of knowing what effect this will have on the balance of power."

"Sir?"

"Even the ant can move a mountain. All he has to do is bring his friends."

"Do not lecture me on such elementary doctrine. The sword has two edges. Perhaps he will blunt the one that could cut our throats."

"So you believe his analysis, that these smugglers and thieves could bring down the Empire."

"His argument has merit. The historical context..."

"Yes, General, I know. The Emperor has assured me, however, that his own forces are dealing with the slave revolts."

"And what of the Hinwar? I have always said that we underestimate the domestic threat they pose."

"The Emperor has dispatched ten legions of Vordikor to the Hinwar worlds."

"The death commandos?"

"Yes, General Hisst. There is no reason to worry about the Hinwar now. They will be dealt with swiftly, efficiently, and brutally."

"As is our way."

"I detect cynicism. Do you question the method?"

"No sir. I sometimes wish that there was another way."

"I do too, General. But can you honestly tell me that there is a better way, while taking reality into account?"

"No sir, I can't."

"I can't think of one either, General. If I could, policy would have changed by now."

"Understood."

"Alright. That's enough worrying for now. I need to go to Voina to speak with his Majesty about the recent skirmishes with the humans on the border. You have the watch here."

"Thank you sir."

"And General."

"Yes sir?"

"Watch out for signs of erosion."

"Yes sir, I will."

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All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring; Renewed shall be blade that was broken, The crownless again shall be king.
—J. R. R. Tolkien
(url="http://"http://www.ambrosiasw.com/cgi-bin/ubb/search.cgi?action=intro&default;=26")The Search Feature(/url)

(This message has been edited by Solel (edited 07-21-2003).)

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Demon was about to ask Larra to turn off her music, when he realized that the pounding was in his own head. Deciding to open his eyes, the black wolf found himself on the floor off the Albatross, under a table. That fact and his vicious hangover made him decide he had merely been passed out drunk. Sitting up groggily he looked around. Larra was still sitting quietly in her chair, staring unfocusedly at a wall. Demon attempted to read the emotions swirling in her violet eyes. Only years of being around Larra allowed Demon to see beyond her expressionless gaze, catching subtle signals that she could hide from all but him.

What Demon saw was a violent conflict of emotions. There was worry, confusion, annoyance, a couple other emotions he couldn't read, and the somewhat trapped look Larra sometimes got when she stayed somewhere longer than she wanted to. Demon deciphered it with little thought. Larra was worried about Page, how he had gotten here, why he had lost his memory, and she didn't want to leave in case he needed her for some reason. For now, she was the only link to his past. But Larra had never been able to stay in one place for long, especially one where nothing was going on, and that same quality was the one causing most of the mental conflict. She wanted to go, she wanted to stay.

Even Demon could not endure looking into Larra's eyes for long, so his gaze began sweeping across the bar, finally resting on a severely drunk young man near the other end of the bar. He grinned. Larra needed a distraction. Turning into a cat and leaping somewhat unsteadily onto the table, Demon entered Larra's field of vision, and she looked up.
"I thought you weren't going to get drunk," she teased.
"I didn't ," Demon replied slyly, "think anything of the sort."
Larra rolled her eyes, but caught a familar glimmer in his eyes, "Okay, what are you scheming now?" she asked warily
"Scheme? Me?" he sounded completely fake-insulted.
"Yes you," Larra retorted, "What is it?"
"Ah, you know me too well," Demon answered, sighing with clearly fake regret. He motioned to the young man he had spotted before "I'll bet you that guy passes out within twenty minutes."
"What wager?"
"The usual."
Larra raised her eyebrows. "I thought you would have gotten tired of losing that one. You're on." With a quick movement she started the timer on her watch, and the two settled back to keep an eye on their target.

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IF U CN RD THS U CNT SPL WRTH A DM

Notes:

The home system of the Dur'achi, were it on the EVO map, would be one jump farther into the Proxima Nebula than DSN-5495, and is connected only to that system.

In general, Dur'achi technology should be considered to be on the same level as the Miranu, if not slightly higher. While this is one way of looking at it, the Dur'achi have specialized in weapons technology more than the Miranu have, at the expense of other technologies. (For example, Dur'achi hyperjump engines aren't the best, but they're working on it.)

Edit: Added clarification on some bits.

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Dur'ach System

Immediately after exiting hyperspace, the Teiresias was slammed to an abrupt halt. Shek and Somm weren't as surprised as someone who wasn't Dur'achi would have been, for they knew the reason and had expected it. Tractor beams. Hundreds of them. And only a few of them actually on their ship right then.

"Unknown ship, identify your intentionsand your occupants," rumbled a voice across the general comm band.

"We read you, Citadel Control. This is the Voinian Heavy Fighter Teiresias , ship of myself, Swordmaster Shek Sunrunner. I travel home to Dur'ach with my friend, Swordmaster Lelos Somm."

"Please be patient while we confirm your claim." After a minute, the voice rumbled, "Very well. Welcome back, Swordmasters. May the gods grant you success and speed on your journey." The ship was released from the invisible grip of the tractor beams.

"Thank you Control." Shek and Somm piloted the craft around the giant station that monitored the single hyperlink that connected Dur'ach to the rest of the galaxy.

The home system of their race was located in the center of the Proxima Nebula, hidden from the other species around them. While it often seemed from what Shek and Somm said when speaking of their homeworld and its culture that Dur'ach was a primitive, almost medieval, society, this was not the case. True, the Darweshi pirates still occasionally caused problems on the surface, but that was dying out now that the Dur'achi had demonstrated the effectiveness of orbital weaponry. So, the Sha'achi Truth Order had journeyed to the Darweshi continent and had secured a peace agreement, which had been ratified by the states on the main Dur'achi continent.

But the technology of the Dur'achi was nothing to laugh at. The giant station that defended their system, the Citadel, was armed with hundreds of tractor beam, and thousands of disruptor missile launchers and beam projectors. And they had ships too. Fast ships. Maneuverable ships. Ships that could fight, and fight well.

The Sarpi War Academy trained the Swordmasters of the Dur'achi; this most knew. True, the title implied a blade of some sort, and all of them did indeed carry one, but the graduates of the War Academy served also as the generals and strategists of their homeland's space navy. Training at the school encompassed training in all forms of warfare, though, and the harsh landscape of Ellif led to breeding hard soldiers, people with natural survival instincts burned into their minds. The millions who trained at Sarpi's partner, the Ilern Battle Temple located in the Oolb Archipelago off the west coast of Ellif, served as the soldiers and warriors of their homeland. And the brutally harsh desert and tundra environment of the Oolb Archipelago forged the graduates of the IBT into as hard and fierce soldiers as the Swordmasters who commanded them; Sarpi merely placed more emphasis on strategy, tactics, and command than did the Battle Temple. Over many years of the process of sending young Dur'achi from across the land to the two scools, Dur'ach had acquired a defense force of wild, fanatic legions of excellently trained, calculating, cunning, terrifyingly intelligent warriors who battled the enemies of Dur'ach, being a flaming sword against their foes.

Now that the Darweshi pirate threat had evaporated—the continent of Darwesh had allied itself with the main Dur'achi continent—and the world of Dur'ach was unified in purpose, its inhabitants could focus on extending their control over the star system that was theirs. Proposals had even been made regarding the colonization of DSN-5495, known to the Dur'achi as Ru'tsah, but such ideas were still only ideas. The Dur'achi world government, the Authority of the Dur'achi League, or the ADL, had decided that it was imperative for them to first establish a firm grip over the resources the gods had graced their home system with.

Shek and Somm passed through the giant metal ring that encircled Dur'ach—the Shawaak Shipyards—and then descended down to the planet below. First they would meet with their fellow Swordmasters in Ellif to discuss the matters at hand. Only later, when the two were sure they had the backing of the other military commanders, would they move to speak openly of their plans with the ADL, in the heart of the Ravinothi Jungles.

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All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring; Renewed shall be blade that was broken, The crownless again shall be king.
—J. R. R. Tolkien
(url="http://"http://www.ambrosiasw.com/cgi-bin/ubb/search.cgi?action=intro&default;=26")The Search Feature(/url)

(This message has been edited by Solel (edited 07-29-2003).)

A man in a Blue Zachiat uniform walks in and sits down for a drink. He asks the bartender if he has seen any good pilots come through here. He says he needs to here a good battle story. He hasent heard anything good in a while.

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Have you ever eaten tar? It's Yummy, and Chewy, and has been known to prevent Tarter and Plaque.

Quote

Originally posted by many people
**The Albatross

**

I didn't realize this bar had switched over from blowing people up to actual content.. it should have been shut down at 500 posts (board standard, I believe) but unless anyone objects, I'll leave it open.. it's actually been entertaining to read through. 🙂

_bomb

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SPQR
"to resist is to piss in the wind....
those who do will end up smelling.."

I thought bars were shut down at 1000 posts, but maybe it's just me.

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To err is human.
To err and blame it on someone else, is even more human.

A red turncoat cruised toward the station and took up a holding pattern just out of site the docking bay's doors opened to release a red, modified scoutship, bristling with 4 manly sized gattling style blaze cannons, the scout throttled up its main engines and screamed toward the station. It coasted into a docking bay, hovered steadily as the undercaridges lowered then set down. The main canopy opened. The pilot pulled himself from the cockpit and bidded his navigator goodbye as he jumped to the ground.
He was wearing a black hooded trenchcoat with two chaingun rifles holstered over his shoulder. he had black hair with a layer of long gray hair at the back of his head. He looked over his shoulder as the scoutship lifted off and headed back toward the turncoat with a savage blast of heat. With that... he skulked toward the bar.
He approaches the bartender
"Whats your strongest drink?"
I always did find these bars real late (even when i dint have an account, like when leviathan cruise lines was around.)
edit sorry about the spelling and grammar errors.

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shoot to kill?
shoot to stop?
I say let loose the firepower and let fate decide

(This message has been edited by Harbringer (edited 07-28-2003).)

(This message has been edited by Harbringer (edited 07-29-2003).)

(This message has been edited by Harbringer (edited 07-29-2003).)

Page opens his eyes to the same dull pain of his left arm and the even more dull gray cockpit of the shuttle. His pain had subsided somewhat but he still didn’t understand why. The painful memories of sword fights, long battles, and plastic potted palm trees had surfaced, but not consistently. All Page had was a jumble of memory, a puzzle that he could not solve. As Page snatched the long sword that sat atop the console above him, he stared at he silver blade.
It had undoubtedly been stained with the blood of many, though how many he killed with it he didn’t know.
There was a warmth he experienced, every time he lifted the thin sword, a sense of familiarity. He felt he knew the sword far better than he knew himself.
There was also something inside him, that almost surfaced every time he held the blade. It never quite showed itself, or himself rather, but it was a presence whose power far surpassed anyone anywhere close. At least he could gather as much.
Something was pulling him to the bar. The woman he had seen earlier, Larra, he felt some sort of bond between him and her.
Page stood slowly, almost hitting his head on one of the consoles on the ceiling and swept out of the shuttle.
Slowly making his way to the bar, he ignored the stares from natives. Some children made snide comments on the somewhat battered man, but Page ignored them.
When entering the bar Page walked into a waitress. The woman stumbled dropping the tray of beers. Yet none of the mugs hit the floor, nor did the liquid within. The mugs hung in mid air, suspended by mysterious weaves that pulsed from Page. Even the spilt liquid hung in a sort of suspended reality.
The waitress stared at Page in awe, as his weaves put the liquid back in the mugs, and placed everything on a tray. The waitress paused a few seconds before reaching for the tray that floated by her.
"Thank you," She said timidly, and disappeared in a crowd of patrons.
Page took a set at a small seat at a table in the corner. He removed a cigarette and lit it with a silver zippo.
He sat staring at the woman he had seen earlier. She was yelling at a black wolf, apparently she had lost a bet. Page snickered as he watched her immaturely insult the wolf, and refuse to give payment.
This bored Page, he strode over to the bar, taking a seat next to a man with a large gun in black.
"When will they learn, "Page mused to himself quietly.

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"WE ARE THE POPES OF THE PYROS!!" "WE ARE THE CRUSADERS OF CAPELLA!!" "THE FRIARS OF FIRE!!" "THE BAPTISTS OF BORAL 1!!!!" "THE CATHOLIC KILLERS OF NEW CALCUTTA!!!!!!" "WE ARE THE GOOD!! no.. no... THE BAD!!! yeah.. thats it.. THE BAD CATHOLICS!!!"

Strauss noticed a man wearing a brown cloak walk in, the man turned his attention to strauss with a dirty look.
Strauss got up, pulled the chaingun rifles from their holsters and turned around, by then he had turned tail and ran out of the bar. Too late. Bullets hailed toward him and he fell to the ground, dead before he hit.
"good day to you sir."
he looked over to the man beside him attempting to ignore his blood stained sleeve.
"I appoligize, he had a price on his head."
"Allow me to introduce myself, my name is strauss. Might i ask yours?"

ooc: sorry about altering the # of guns i had (my previos post) after someone had already responded. 2 chainguns just seem cooler.

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shoot to kill?
shoot to stop?
I say let loose the firepower and let fate decide

OOC: Dat' be one strong mofo, packin' two mofo chainguns.

Story coming, Almost theeeere!

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