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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Light =&gt; Light: Exotic Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: RegularRaskolnikov on 18-11-2009, 18:03:39</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Contact:</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RegularRaskolnikov</strong> on <strong>18-11-2009, 18:03:39</strong>
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				<strong>Do not post profiles in the story thread!</strong><br><br><em>Civilizations have been attempting to eke out an existence in the endless void for millennia. Traditionally, once a civilization is no longer at the mercy of the forces that guide the universe it can start to mature properly. This happened more than once. Inevitably multiple empires began to intersect. Contact was made for the first time between multiple sentient species. An era of war and slaughter prevailed for centuries until the costliness of endless war threatened to destroy dozens of cultures. <br><br>An agreement was made. A hesitant treaty between a sad few races to form a council. An interspecies government has never before been attempted. Cultural and biological barriers were a limiting thing. However the council has been formed not twenty years passed. <br><br>You are representing your species to the galactic community. You are contacted because you are either your people's sole leader or you are a representative diplomat for them. How you represent them is entirely up to you. What kind of tone will you establish for us to judge you by? <br><br>Below is a query. Your species is unknown and therefore an anamoly. Please brief the local keepers on a few key traits of your species so that we may better facilitate your induction into the council, should you choose to join. A basic file has been prepared for you. We trust your judgment when filling the basics out. It's fairly self-explanatory. </em><br><br><br><span style="font-size: 1em;" class="bbc_size">credit to: TatersAndTots<br><br><strong>Race name:</strong><br><strong>Race appearance:</strong><br><strong>Number of Systems:</strong> Somewhere between 1-50 is okay. Any nation over 25 is... creaky, and suffers regional problems, which must be included in the Weaknesses (terrorist groups, revolts, slow reaction to threats, corruption, etc...)<br><strong>Government Type:</strong><br><strong>Religion(s):</strong><br><strong>History:</strong><br><strong>Values of your nation:</strong> hardwork, truth, war, discovery, peace, etc...<br>National Traits: (For all of the traits, give a short statement on how each is related to your race)<br><br>Population Traits: ----------------^<br><br>Military Traits: -------------------^<br><br>Technical Traits: -----------------^<br><br>Historical Traits: -----------------^<br><br>Faults/Weaknesses: -------------^<br><br>Hyper-Tech: ---------------------^<br><br><br><span style="font-size: 0.7em;" class="bbc_size"><strong>TRAIT SYSTEM:</strong><br>Each Nation gets a single trait from each category below. Plus seven extra traits to spend on any category except for Hyper-Technology and History. For each flaw you take you can take an extra trait. (one each&nbsp; =6, + 7 anywhere-points = 13 traits total + 1 per flaw)<br><br>Some Traits can stack, making them more pronounced, those that cannot will have an * at the start of the name.<br><br><strong>National Traits:</strong><br><strong>GETTING HUGE!:</strong> Your nation has a serious skyscraper, monument and battleship fetish and likes to build big. BIG. BIG.<br><strong>The Mossad:</strong> What you know, I know.<br><strong>Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti:</strong> We have not managed to gather any information on this trait. (KGB)<br>*Implausibly Efficient Government: Your bureaucrats cut through red tape with machetes.<br><strong>Fair Dinkum:</strong> Your state has a rep as a straight shooter (metaphorically) and an honest dealer (literally).<br><strong>The only Party in town:</strong> The government controls everything. Including you. Especially you.<br><strong>Free Market Boomtown:</strong> The nice thing about a corporate state is there's profits for everyone. The not so nice thing is that you have to go back to your cubicle now.<br><strong>Industrial Heartland:</strong> Tank factories stretch to the horizon and shipyards fill the night sky with waste light.<br><strong>*New Hollywood:</strong> A cultural centre of the galaxy. Everyone who's anyone has made their fame here.<br><strong>Who Cares About Uzbekistan:</strong> Your polity is simply not on the galactic radar and thus avoids a lot of the Bad Shit that can go down. . .<br><strong>Party Please:</strong> Your diplomats are just so good-natured or know so many skeleton-filled closets that they can get into strategically useful alliances much easier than others. Of course, then you need to live up to what you signed . . .<br><strong>*Cargo Cultist:</strong> If freighters were warships, you'd blot out the stars with your fleet. You still do, but there's less gunfire involved.<br><strong>Load-Bearing State:</strong> You remember all those times you beat up a boss and suddenly the castle collapsed? Well, you're kind of like that to the galactic economy.<br><br><strong>Population Traits:</strong><br><strong>*Loyalty:</strong> A populace that through some reason or another is loyal to its government, through fear or "cookie day" it doesn't matter, these people are loyal.<br><strong>*Hive:</strong> Through technological, psionic or even natural means these people share a hive-mind. (A hive automatically has this Trait) This makes infiltration almost impossible.<br><strong>Man-Machine Interface:</strong> Thought the looking glass of circuitry and neurons into the uncharted territories of bioelectronic convergence.<br><strong>SPACE MARINES!:</strong> Your people are physically superior specimens, with buff bodies and quick hands.<br><strong>Cyberize!:</strong> Physical cybernetic modifications are rampant in your population. Not limited by mere biology like SPACE MARINES! but likewise not inherent just by being born. Sucks to be a copper.<br><strong>Heroic Age:</strong> Your people see themselves as Spartan Heroes, not Persian Generals. Shame the Spartans made poor civilians . . .<br><strong>Flag-Wavers:</strong> It doesn't matter what you do, you'll always win the elections. You must choose something particularly dear to your population that they wave flags about.<br><strong>Eureka!:</strong> The desire to take things apart and figure out how they work runs deep in your people's blood.<br><strong>Hard Workers:</strong> Your people really roll up their sleeves and work.<br><strong>Stupidly Brave:</strong> Nobody would think of calling your people cowards.<br><strong>Tough as a Coffin Nail:</strong> Your people are just ridiculously tough and can survive true environmental extremes. Requires SPACE MARINES!, Cyberize<br><strong>Plain Jane:</strong> You get one additional National trait, but cannot choose any other Population Trait.<br><br><strong>Military Traits:</strong><br><strong>High Speed, Low Drag:</strong> Hit and Run. Really quickly.<br><strong>Tortoise and the Hare:</strong> Slow, steady and durable wins the race.<br><strong>Network-Paradigm Processor:</strong> Communism in warfare? Unheard of!<br><strong>Battleships!:</strong> You've got a lot more battleships than most people. Also comes in other variants. (You could take is "Carriers!" or "Destroyers!" or "Super-Capitals!" potentially)<br><strong>*Armament De-Regulation:</strong> Who puts 16" guns on freighters? You do!<br><strong>Army General Staff:</strong> Your focus is mostly on taking and holding ground with troops, be that planets, space stations or hostile warships.<br><strong>*Awesome Training:</strong> This trait is only worth one, but costs two because people are munchkins.<br><strong>Death Spiraller:</strong> Why buy ten fighters when you can buy one five times as good?<br><strong>Knife in the Back:</strong> You prefer the silence of a SPF strike to the brutishness of a battle line bombardment.<br><strong>*Strategic Weapons Stockpiler:</strong> You put the Strategic Air Command to shame.<br><strong>Ninja Space pirate:</strong> Arr matey! You'll never escape our pirate U-Boats!<br><strong>Dispersed Operations:</strong> All spaceships can go quite a while without resupply and operate without fleets. Yours are optimized for this.<br><strong>Space Trenches:</strong> If it was possible to dig holes in space-time to provide cover for your battleships, you'd do so.<br><strong>A Penny Saved:</strong> Just because a cruiser is two generations behind the state of the art doesn't mean its useless!<br><strong>Main Guns!:</strong> The age of the battleship is back with a vengeance, this time with spinally-mounted cannons for all.<br><br><strong>Technical Traits:</strong><br><strong>*Mechanical Monstrosities:</strong> Who needs fighters when you can have giant robots!<br><strong>Biowanker:</strong> Instead of heavy metal, your engineers have gone down the path of biotechnology.<br><strong>On The Run!:</strong> Most people don't strap engines to factories and cram them into carriers. Most people.<br><strong>Stealth Obsessed:</strong> Most people engineer a bit of stealth cladding into their warships. You use it for internal decking.<br><strong>Flash:</strong> Your stuff just has that extra polish that makes it look cooler than everyone else's inferior-looking, blockily-functional equipment.<br><strong>Plug'n'Play:</strong> Modularity is a virtue, so your engineers claim.<br><strong>Ghost in the Machine:</strong> People are a hindrance, so you use machinery as much as possible.<br><strong>Nazi Superscience:</strong> A role for every machine and a machine for every role.<br><strong>Better Than Your {Keyword}:</strong> Don't apply this too broadly or I'll smack you, otherwise it's exactly what it implies.<br><strong>Hangerize!:</strong> Fighters and Mecha are cool (or just an overly important part of your doctrines) so you stick them in everything you can. This provides strike/superiority ability in addition to the usual utility-craft hangars.<br><strong>Off-The-Shelf Technology:</strong> You get one additional Bonus trait, but cannot choose any other Technical Trait.<br><br><strong>Historical Traits: (MUST take ONE ONLY)</strong><br><strong>Warlike:</strong> Your History is filled with bloodshed, violence and the genocide of millions, at your own hands or against you. The point is you won’t back down if you don’t have to.<br><strong>Diplomatic:</strong> You have more skill with diplomacy than most species and consider war to be a final option after all others have been exhausted. Fortunately you’ve kept your records better than others and suffer no diplomatic penalties with different species.<br><strong>Commercial:</strong> A long history of commercial profit and trade fills your peoples lessons as children. Your people don’t learn how Aravais defeated the Chonomeri in a great battle but how Elan robbed Geddas of every last coin in exchange for a drink of water in the desert to survive.<br><strong>In Armour Clad:</strong> Your people value defence, shields and armour above diplomacy, strategic weapons and other minor concerns. After all what good are their weapons if they cannot harm you?<br><br><strong>Hyper-technology: (Must take ONE)</strong><br><strong>Advanced Biotechnology:</strong> Some polities have taken the sciences of life to its endpoints and gained the ability to breed living structures and starships. While not as efficient as more conventional ships they do have their advantages.<br><strong>Jump Drive:</strong> Jump drives allow the equipped vehicle to make a linear (read, straight, unobstructed, line) “space-folding jump” between two points by folding space between the start and end points. (not usable by anything smaller than a battleship)<br><strong>Plasma Tech:</strong> You are able to utilize crude plasma weapons. Although wasteful, the globs of plasma you can shoot rip through armor and shields like paper.<br><strong>Cloaking Devices:</strong> I see what you did there... or not. Cloaking hides all emissions from the ships using the device, hiding it from whatever is looking for it. Firing plasma drives or firing weapons will expose the ship. The best bet is to fly towards the place you wanna go from rally far away, then just coast all the way in.<br><strong>Relativistic Weapons:</strong> Projectile weaponry fired past 20% of lightspeed. Incredible levels of damage and destruction are capable.<br><strong>Antimatter Tech:</strong> Better containment means more antimatter, which means bigger boom, 'nuff said. Antimatter can also be used in reactors and engines to make ships much faster than ships with fusion reactors.<br><strong>Field Control:</strong> You that whole "gravity weapons are useless" thing? If you have Field Control, you can ignore that bit. Your race can use gravity much more than other races. You get things like tractor beams, which repel as well as attract, gravity elevators, and really big vehicles can use hover (hovering fortresses anyone?). You largest ships can use a bigger version of a tractor beam to rip enemy apart. Gravity ignores shielding.<br><br><strong>Faults/Weaknesses: </strong> (Each Fault, Weakness or Flaw allows you to take one more trait EXCEPT for Historical or Hyper-Advanced.)<br><strong>Honourable to a fault:</strong> Your strategies will never rely on surprise or deception, your ships are painted bright shiny silver and your admirals will always give a speech to the enemy before battle.<br><strong>Creaky Military:</strong> The military is under-budgeted, under-equipped and underfed. Kind of like the Russian fleet circa 1995. You simply don't have much in the way of a military. This flaw hits hard enough to provide two (2) bonus traits.<br><strong>There Is No Internet:</strong> Your computers and electronics are like 2000s vintage. This sucks.<br><strong>Third World:</strong> Even in the future, the third world is not known for technological superiority. While not as horrible as There Is No Internet, it's far more broad-based. Kiss your shields and artificial gravity good-bye for everything but the flagship.<br><strong>Soylent Green Is People!:</strong> You have a giant elephant-sized skeleton in your closet. (You must describe this big nasty secret. Though only your nation knows it and even the best spies would have difficulty finding it.<br><strong>Government Red Tape:</strong> This request cannot be processed at this time. Please take a number.<br><strong>*Cult Of {Keyword}:</strong> All Hail Xenu!<br><strong>*Hilariously Fail:</strong> Someone - a lot of someones - doesn't have much going on upstairs. Unfortunately they're disproportionately represented in your government and military.<br><strong>Public Outcry:</strong> Your people have deep and strong opinions on some issues you'd really rather they didn't.<br><strong>Wimpy:</strong> Maybe they're a low-gravity race or just didn't drink milk when growing up. No matter the cause, your people are short, skinny and weak. This is a bigger disadvantage than it sounds, as your fighter pilots will not be able to handle nearly as many Gs and your ships will likewise be relatively sluggish.<br><strong>Paranoia!:</strong> In a universe full of planet-destroying aliens, a healthy dose of paranoia is only natural. It might make diplomacy difficult but at least they won't sneak up on you!<br><strong>Trade Dependent:</strong> Exactly what it says. A good example is a Mars-like world that must import significant food to feed its populace.</span><br><br>---------------<br><strong>Military:</strong><br><strong>Infantry:</strong><br>meat-shields, snipers, shock troopers... give me a short sentence or two on all the types, as well as each groups equipment.<br><strong>Vehicles:</strong><br>same as above. List em, describe em, and describe their equipment/armament. Anything on wheels/tracks/hover/legs is included, so artillery and support vehicles are included.<br><strong>Aircraft:</strong><br>If it flies, but can't travel off of a planet without help, it goes here. NOT PART OF THE NAVY. List and describe.<br><strong>Buildings:</strong><br>Mostly stationary turrets and fortresses and the like. Included planetary shields (Ray and particle are separate, but can be included in the same unit). List and describe.<br><br><br><strong>Navy:</strong><br>Ship classes are by weight. Remember, more powerful ships are expensive, so they are less of them, and bigger ships are slower. Weight is in kilotons (Ktons or K))<br><br><strong>Super Capitals:</strong> 45-55k (50k) (Typically referred to as Dreadnoughts and Super-Dreadnoughts)<br><strong>Battleship:</strong> 30-40k (35k)<br><strong>Carrier:</strong> 25-35k (30k)<br><strong>Heavy Cruiser:</strong> 10-20k (15k)<br><strong>Light Cruiser:</strong> 3-5k (4k)<br><strong>Destroyer:</strong> 2-4k (3k)<br><strong>Gunships:</strong> 1-2k (2k)<br><strong>Heavy aerospace Squadron (bombers or gunboats):</strong> 0.5k<br><strong>Medium aerospace Squadron (multi-role/strike fighters):</strong> 0.2k<br><strong>Light aerospace Squadron (single role fighters):</strong> 0.1k<br><br>Each ship has its own class to describe how state-of-the-art, or how powerful it is.<br>Category A: Most mainline troops and vessels are Category A. Well-trained and equipped they are the backbone of any nation's military.<br>Category B: Typically seen as reservists or low-priority formations, Category B troops typically have older equipment. However, it can still be effective in the right situations and can free up more expensive equipment for priority missions.<br>Category C: There is no argument about the age of this equipment or the skill of the crews. However for less well-off states this is sometimes all that can be fielded in any quantity.<br>Category X: Few militaries can afford Category X equipment; its effects scale while its cost scale even more rapidly. For most nations this is limited to the most elite formations.<br>NOTE: Class B or C doesn't have to mean crappy ships. It can mean crappy crews as well. The class is just to describe the ship's fighting potential. A ship with advanced tech can still be a Class C if the crew is really crappy.<br><br><br><br>Each class has its own template, which is as follows. The templates will be using a 1-10 system to describe speed, firepower, and defense compared to the other ships in your navy.<br><br>Ship Hull: Capital, Carrier, Destroyer, etc.<br>Ship Class:<br>Weapons: List em and the number of each. Put the 1-10 number in parenthesis at the end.<br>Engines: List and put the number at the end.<br>FTL?: y/n Nations can save a lot of money by having no FTL drives on their smaller ships. These ships can be used for local defense and can simply use Gates to travel. Every system should have at least one Gate.<br>Armor: List and number.<br>Shielding: Both ray and particle. List and number.<br>Other: fighter complement and any other equipment worth mentioning.<br><br>Number of ships really isn't important. For scale, an average fleet has about 15-20 battleships, 0-5 super capitals, 150 escorts (anything below battelship), and a couple hundred to two thousand fighters if your races uses them.</span><br><br><br><em>Thank you for your cooperation, and good luck. We look forward to cooperating with you. <br><br>Message Over. </em>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Contact:</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ChaoticSky</strong> on <strong>27-11-2009, 03:11:02</strong>
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				((OOC: Okie everyone, FWI; Reg is one of those military type people, so he may appear and vanish for weeks at a time, this should not effect our RP. please add your nations views of other nations to the end of your civs post in the nation topic here: http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=53087.0 (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=53087.0) ))<br><br>On board Union Station;<br><br>The Crys Ambassador, who had taken the name 'Cy' and was chosen to represent the Crys race in the Council, stirred to some semblance of life for the first time in three years, rising from the chair she had occupied in her quarters, onboard the Union Station. the station its self had been constructed by the Ekke, it resembled a spiked ball, with a large spherical center from which long arms extended out into space, each arm belonging to a race that participated in the council, and painstakingly constructed to take racial sensibilities in mind, and remind diplomats of home. That said, the station was mostly only used to council business... and all but abandoned, save for the Ekke crew, the rest of the time. Cy's own quarters, like most of the Crys Wing, sports alot of dark, unpolished stone, with softly oscillating red lighting. unfortunately no one had told the Ekke that the Crys lacked such aesthetic sensibilities... they could have saved alot of money with plain white walls... which would have suited Cy equally well.<br><br>there was a scheduled meeting of the Council soon, and so Cy began making her way to the central sphere, cancelling out the artificial gravity with a thought and a ripple of space, she floated lazily along the central corridor. Eventually arriving at the main airlock, the great blast doors fwiped shut behind her, then opened before her, and she continued to follow the same straight path directly to the Council Chamber which sat at the heart of the station. There, she sat in her race's chair and settled in to await the arrival of the other diplomats, who unlike her, had long ago left to return to whatever lives and duties they posessed. Even she couldnt help but feel alittle excited, just a few days untill the other diplomats started to arrive.<br><br>----<br><br>In The Crys System;<br><br>The three Great Ones slowly circled a large asteroid in the belt that circled their homeworld, slowly tearing it apart with shearing gravitational fields to extract the metals and minerals that could be traded with the Glorbush for valuable carbon to feed their race. tirelessly packing the gnarled lumps of ore into their bodies untill they were filled to capacity, then, when the same could be said of the dozen or so of their kin who were performing similar activities, they would leave, and deliver the exact same amount of materials as they always had to the Glorbush. Who in turn have the proper amount of Graphite ready to trade for it. the system was simple, and had been ironed out very earily in their shared history, and never altered or failed since, like clockwork. Meanwhile, a separate group of Great ones skimmed the upper atmosphere of there system's gas giant's sunward side, collecting the energetic isotopes created by the solar winds impacting the exotic atmosphere, in preparation for their own, distinct, trade run to the Glorbush, to trade the isotopes for carbon gas.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Contact:</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>RegularRaskolnikov</strong> on <strong>27-11-2009, 04:21:37</strong>
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				<em>Rach'Hi stood behind the right shoulder of his pilot. The Council station's roughly spherical silhouette was outlined in a lovely blue glow from the distant sun. His entire crew was washed in an indigo cover as they efficiently and silently went about their business. The tall Ekke silently contemplated and appreciated the view, recalling old songs and attempting to compose a few in his head. The cluster of small tentacles that served as his mouth twitched lightly in amusement. He had never been very good at writing music. <br><br>He inclined his head to the much larger Ekke standing next to him in a ceremonial battlesuit. It was a simple, but efficient amalgamation of "Sorted" (The technical term for material that has been organized at an atomic level to enhance desired qualities) mesh and armor plating. Urud'Na tore his gaze from the station when he noticed the Attention he was getting. "A thought?"<br><br>Rach'Hi turned away from his bodyguard. "No. I was only considering your skill at verse."<br><br>"Appreciated" Urud'Na was somewhat expressionless, even for an Ekke. At least, he was even less outward about it. With a group of people as cerebral as the Ekke it was generally accepted that most things will be left unsaid unless they are of import. Bah, he was woolgathering. <br><br>"We're docking with the Council Station now, Ambassador." The Pilot reported tersely. <br><br>"Excellent."<br><br>Ambassador and bodyguard turned and left the helm to prepare to board.</em> Lia Ana<em> The somewhat large freighter/flagship slid into place along the docking bay without issue. The craft was the familiar sloping shape of most Ekke craft. It's particular attention to artistry was the reason it had been chosen by Rach'Hi.<br><br>He stepped into the Ekke quarters. Stone and wood were abundant, and extra life-support systems had been allotted (perhaps wastefully) to allow the plant life to grow. The Ekke figured that small lapses in reason could occasionally be forgiven for the sake of representing the Ekke ideal in their artisanship. Rach'Hi strode purposefully towards the central council chamber. He was early, he was looking forward to the time he would have for silent preparation and contemplation. <br><br>The Ekke both bowed abruptly, not showing surprise. "Noble Cy, we welcome you. I had forgotten that you had stayed on the station." <br><br>Urud'Na took his place by the door, Rach'Hi sat down in the chair across from the Crys. "Have we received word on when the others will be arriving?</em>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Contact:</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Shihong</strong> on <strong>27-11-2009, 05:50:16</strong>
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				<div align="center">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v296/rcburner/Alien%20Civilization/NuclearPlanetDevourer.jpg)</div><br>Within the emptiness of interstellar space, a leviathan coiled again and again about a small blue planetoid.&nbsp; Endless kilometers of dark flesh lit by the glow of organic vents as they flushed countless tons of irradiated material out into the vacuum, and by the bioluminescence created by the billions of organic life forms that swarmed about their God.&nbsp; A roiling plague of serpentine creatures nearly as long and vast as the Ultothar itself pulsed and flowed, agitated and eager at their mother's display.&nbsp; The planet's surface was already boiling from the overwhelming heat radiating out from the magnificent beast, and great chunks of it came away in a tumult of molten rock beneath the intense gravitational forces at work.&nbsp; Occasionally the Ultothar would rear its gargantuan head and spew forth a column of superheated radiation at what had once been continents, melting them in a matter of seconds into a bright green sea that bubbled and split apart.&nbsp; Feeding day.<br><br>But while limitless others celebrated and feasted, there was one who would not be present to clean up whatever scraps the sacred Ultothar could not reach.&nbsp; He, like all the others of his kind, possessed no unique name.&nbsp; He was simply Ultothana, and nothing more.&nbsp; Nor did he desire a name, for to claim one would mean renouncing his own equality and risking banishment from his home.&nbsp; Though he could not quell his inner disappointment at having to miss the festivities, he was nonetheless honored for having been chosen for such an important task.&nbsp; The first attendance by an Ultothana at an official Council meeting, and he of all the trillions of worthy subjects had been selected!&nbsp; <br><br>The Ultothana quivered in his bio-suit.&nbsp; It was an extraordinarily snug covering that provided very little in the way of actual protection; after all, he scarcely needed it, being more than capable of surviving in a vacuum or temperatures approaching that of a star.&nbsp; It was simply a comfort bestowed by the Divine Ultothar itself.&nbsp; He was somewhat embarrassed that he, like many others before, had a habit of succumbing to panic when venturing outside the flesh of his Mother, and the artificial "womb" was meant to allay such irrational fear.&nbsp; The exterior was a flexible silicon material that was quite beyond his comprehension to explain, but the interior was actually composed of a fully functioning system of organs that beat and gurgled and pulsed against his hard chitinous skin.&nbsp; It calmed him considerably, making the travel to the Council station all the more bearable.&nbsp; It helped that he had been provided with such a top of the line ship!&nbsp; With its sloping, organic black metal and wide array of flashing buttons that didn't actually seem to do anything, it seemed almost of a higher quality than a Praetorian Rammer!&nbsp; The Ultothana bloated up with excitement at receiving such special treatment, the bladders in his gut swelling with joyous bile.<br><br><div class="floatright">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v296/rcburner/Alien%20Civilization/AlienSurvivalSuit.jpg)</div><br>Apparently there were things known as "schedules" among other societies.&nbsp; The Ultothana couldn't be sure if he would be "on time", as clocks were an alien concept to him and the ship didn't have one anyway.&nbsp; The strange Council station was already in sight at any rate, and it certainly didn't seem very busy.&nbsp; He thought it strange that such an important structure would feel so barren at a glance, when all things of importance within the Ultothar required constant attention and reverence by hordes of his comrades.&nbsp; <br><br>The ship bellowed something unintelligible, forcing the Ultothana to come to attention.&nbsp; He couldn't pilot it of course, but it seemed to know where it was going now.&nbsp; He waddled over to the center of the spacious cockpit and waited.&nbsp; The ship descended upon one of the larger spikes protruding from the spherical bulk of the station, the one that seemed like it had been quite recently constructed.&nbsp; It alighted upon a small opening in the side, wrapping its wings and tentacled feelers about it until it was held firmly in place.&nbsp; It bellowed once more, and a small orifice in the floor opened with an audible squishing noise.&nbsp; The Ultothana wrung its tentacles together and hesitantly hopped into the offered hole.<br><br>He fell for a short ways before landing on a sort of spongey material.&nbsp; The gelatinous mass of illuminated red eyes composing most of his head shifted forward until it barely pushed against the oblong window at the front of the suit.&nbsp; The room he was in now had been rather hastily put together from the looks of it.&nbsp; Water condensed on his visor until he was forced to wipe it away with irritation.&nbsp; Odd organic stalks and vines hung everywhere, like someone had transplanted some sort of jungle into the station.&nbsp; He'd heard something about the Council's attempts to adapt to their member races, but the Ultothana could not say he was very impressed.&nbsp; Not that he planned on staying in such alien quarters to begin with; the ship suited him just fine.<br><br>With some measure of uncertainty he waddled out into the hall and swiveled back and forth.&nbsp; Nothing but long empty metal hallways that curved off out of sight.&nbsp; The view depressed him immensely.&nbsp; <em>'How could anyone live like this?'</em> he pondered, massaging nervously at his eye-jelly with a smaller pair of hands set beneath his mandibles.&nbsp; Listening to the pounding of the hearts within his bio-suit calmed him somewhat, but not quite enough to completely erase the feeling of alienation.<br><br>He must have bumbled about, peeking curiously into empty rooms and corridors in search of anyone that might provide some directions, before finally stumbling upon the central chamber completely by accident.&nbsp; He visibly jolted at the sight of Urud'na, hurrying past him and spinning wildly about several times before taking note of the other two and coming to a stop.&nbsp; His eyes had trouble focusing, but he was already rather unnerved by everything else in the room.&nbsp; Somehow the idea that he would be meeting with actual <em>aliens</em> at an <em>alien</em> council hadn't quite struck him until that very moment.&nbsp; Needless to say it was more than a little surprising.<br><br>Remembering himself and realizing the terrible impression he was making, the Ultothana suddenly stood rigid and pressed one of the buttons on the interior of the suit.&nbsp; A translator, so he had been told.&nbsp; He hadn't any idea how it worked, but hoped he didn't need to in order to use it.<br><br>"Hail, Spawn of Dirt and Stars!" he declared, waving both appendages as high as he could reach them without toppling backwards, and nearly doing so anyway.&nbsp; "Is this Space of Meeting with Delegates?"&nbsp; <br><br>Inwardly he was rather amused by the noises coming from the suit.&nbsp; He hadn't any idea what it was turning his chirps and warbling clicks into, but it sounded positively absurd!&nbsp; Was that really how aliens spoke?
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Contact:</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sydonai</strong> on <strong>27-11-2009, 08:55:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				20 Years After the Founding of the Galactic Council...<br><br><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>Phyrexis</strong></span><br>Audience Hall of the Shadow Throne, Emerald Jade Palace.<br><hr>24th day of the third month.<br><br>The interior of the audience chamber is quiet and empty except for the few ambient sounds coming from the ventilation and the few traffic outside the palace. For thousands of years the Emerald jade palace has become the seat of power for the Imperial Phyrexian, a place where the twelve shadowlords would meet and convene and then give their recommendation to the emperor, it was a bustling place filled with servants and government officials and where whispers of government conspiracy thick in the air, but now the Imperial Palace has become a shadow of its former glory, only handfuls of servants now maintains the palace and it has become the official residents of the twelve shadowlords. The audience chamber is huge enough to fit in atleast a thousand of peoples in it, large towering ornamental pillars line the audience chamber giving support to the second level balcony and the roof. Currently, the audience chamber is empty and the dim purple lights at the side walls are the only thing that kept the hall from being covered in complete darkness.<br><br>Suddenly, the huge entrance door at the left side of the audience hall opens up to give way to nine shadowy figures, clad in intricate woven robe native to the Phyrexian's rich folks but their faces are well hidden under the cloak attached to the back of their robe, secret matters seems to set afoot in the audience hall tonight. One of the, cloaked figure suddenly pushed back his hood, revealing a Phyrexian ages old. The phyrexians are capable of atleast 300 years of lifespan and their aging process can be seen by how broad and how worn out their deep violet skin has become. This particular phyrexian is old enough to have stayed in the council for nearly 250 years and he now eyes his each and everyone of the cloaked phyrexians until his eyes fell upon one particular hooded figure, <strong>"Astraxx! what were you thinking!"</strong>, his voice thundering through the empty audience hall clearly displeased about something. The other hooded figure referred to as Astraxx quickly remove his hood, revealing a rather young phyrexian with a noticeable feature on his face, a scar long scar across his left eyes that stretches from his forehead to his pale violet cheeks, <strong>"what was I thinking you asks? I was thinking of the future of Imperial Phyrexia of course, the time of isolation has ended dear old Zhevras, we will now engage with rest of the galaxy be it with hostility of hospitality and what better ways to do this then to joined the galactic council"</strong>.<br><br>Zhevras, the furious old phyrexian breathes heavily and his eyes narrowed to the young phyrexian, he was about to let loose another round of insults and reprimands before he was stopped by one of the cloaked figure around them, <strong>"enough Zhevras, Astraxx did so after consulting most of us and I must say, this is an opportunity that we cannot miss, to see what this....galactic council can offer to the great Phyrexian Empire"</strong>, the cloaked figure said, mockingly emphasizing the word galactic council. <strong>"And I wasn't informed of this! what treachery is this, I'm one of the most senior Shadowlords and I wasn't inform of this!"</strong>, it would seem the comment from the cloaked phyrexian serves only to outrage the senior shadowlord further more before he was yet again stopped this time by Astraxx, <strong>"we have even informed, Lord Veridias and he seems intrigue of this idea of us joining the galactic council, are you going to rip away this little enjoyment Lord Veridias has agreed to?"</strong>. <br><br>It would seem that the mention of the name Lord Veridias, sparks whispering between the other cloaked figures who had remained quiet thus far and even Zhevras could not muster anymore complain to this but instead growl, clearly displeased with the young Phyrexian shadowlord and judging by their reaction it is safe to perhaps assume that this Lord Veridias is the one who truly runs the show within the empire, perhaps the most powerful and most influential of the Shadowlords. <strong>"be at ease old Zhevras, and enjoy the show, we have already send in one of out top ambassadors to our first galactic council meeting..."</strong>, said the still hooded shadowlord, he suddenly took something out from within his robe, a triangular shaped object most probably a communication device. Suddenly, the device shoots out a holographic image of another phyrexian, donned with a general's armor, <strong>"Captain Zaravi, have you reached the station?"</strong>, the hooded shadowlord asks to the person in shown in the holographic communication device, <strong>"not yet my lord, but soon, we had just came through a jump and now nearing the station"</strong>, the captain replied, <strong>"very good, then proceed as we have instructed"</strong>. Afterwards the hooded shadowlord pushed a button underneath the device, cutting off the communication entirely. <strong>"...now then, let's see where this will indeed lead us..."</strong>, Astraxx spoke as he carved a rather sinister smile on his lips.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <br><br><br><br><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>Union Station</strong></span><br>Council Meeting Chamber, Union Station.<br><hr>24th day of the third month.<br><br>A large Alilat class battleship sails through the void of space escorted by two Dush'Shara class Destroyer and dozens of smaller fighter squadrons as they are nearing the space station in sight. At the helm of the battleship sat the captain of the ship and some of the handling crews, as they are now heading to their first diplomatic meeting with galactic council races for the first time. Captain Zaravi is a decorated war hero when he successfully put down an armed insurgents in the mining system of Karakotch Z12, this armed rebellion was one of the largest that had the Phyrexian Empire caught offguard. The Captain stands at a normal phyrexian height of 7 feet tall and a lithe body like any normal phyrexian yet also like any normal phyrexian their lithe body does not mean that they are frail, on the contrary they are agile and ferocious people who's fought any battle like a cornered mouse. His most distinguishing features is his red crimson eyes that are very rare even amongst the phyrexian and his long shoulder length silver hair.<br><br><strong>"Captain, we have docked at the space station..."</strong>, came a voice from adjutant of the ship, Zaravi looked back at the adjutant before turning his head back at the space station. <strong>"Tell the Imperial Deathguard to be ready..."</strong>, he ordered and the adjutant replied with a slight bow before heading back deeper into the ship. Truthfully to be told, Zaravi finds this whole business with the galactic council to be very suspicious and what's more was the fact that the Emperor had ordered some of his personal deathguard to escort him, because Deathguards of the emperor were never meant to guard anyone else aside from the emperor and he had his doubts but if it is true that the order came directly from his emperor than who was he to question them. Once the airlock door opens up, it gave way to a contingent of delegation from Phyrexis, ten fully armed Imperial Deathguard together with a few military officer escorted Captain Zaravi as he made his way through the hallway. Fortunately however, it didn't take the engineers on board the Alilat battleship to retrieve the blueprint of the whole station and uploaded it to the Captain's handheld communication device.<br><br>Soon with the aid of the blueprint map, he arrived upon the meeting chamber only to be greeted with a few delegates from foreign looking aliens, so far it would seem there are only four delegates present, Phyrexians included. Once the Captain had a good and perhaps menacing look to the other ambassadors he quickly took his place in the meeting chamber, he signaled the rest of his escort to go back to their quarters leaving the captain with two Imperial Deathguards and one of the diplomatic officer sent straight from Phyrexis. There were no greetings or exchanging of trivialities with him, after all he is not a man of words rather a man of guns, he would rather leave most of the dealings to the diplomatic officer next to him. Now it's waiting time.<br><br><strong>Socio-Political Condition</strong>: Controlled<br><strong>Economic Condition</strong>: stable<br><strong>Military Condition</strong>: Optimum
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Contact:</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>HairyHeretic</strong> on <strong>28-11-2009, 14:27:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A soft chime brought K'loth's attention from the latest diplomatic correspondence from Homeworld. His eyes flicked from the computer pad he held to the terminal on his desk, and the flashing icon on the screen. He tapped it, frowned and checked the chrono. <br><br>"One of these days I will lose track of my own head." he muttered, rekeying the encryption algorithm on the display and rising from his desk. He donned the crall-leather armless coat over his formal armour, checked the seating of his honour sash and left his quarters, carrying the pad with him, tucked into one deep pocket. <br><br>His honour guard fell into step as he moved down the corridor, eyes constantly searching for any signs of trouble. Not that any was expected in this place, but ingrained habit was hard to break, and this one always served well. At the council room antechamber a small hand gesture had the guards peel off and take up station to await his return. <br><br>He entered the council chamber itself, eyes automatically moving around the room before he acknowledged the other ambassadors there with a clenched fist to chest salute. "Ambassadors." he said, as it seemed a salutation acceptable to the other races he had so far encountered, and he moved around to take his seat.
			</dd>
		</dl>
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