Soviet Panda
Red Panda Commanda.
In orbit, Cwellere's Axe, Democratic States of Centrice
Jarl Torny was firmly strapped into his drop pod aboard the vessel Cwellere's Axe, it's drop bay lit by a red light. This was just one of countless many drops for him, and he left the AI to perform it's systems checks automatically, opting instead to make sure the rest of his Einherjar were properly, and securely in their own drop pods. He skipped over the death marked ones, which were already shaking as their occupant began to thrash around in a drug fueled rage.
"Siv, Asketill, keep the Greenie close to you two, you're in charge of making sure he sees another drop." He commanded, choosing to ignore the groans and complaints of the two soldiers. "Gunnar, as soon as we hit I want to hear your gun. Buck, Tormod, Inga, and Elf, range far, range fast, and if anything less than a full lance is coming our way deal with it yourself. If it's a lance or bigger, radio it in and fall back. Maybe we'll get Cwellere here to live up to her name and take care of them for us." This brought a dry laughter from a few of the veteran members, who knew full well this ship's guns were more ornamental at this point.
As they laughed, the ever present red light went out, turned green, and the drop order was given. Almost as soon as the first words were said, the drop bay floors dropped away, the thrusters above the pod ignited, and the strike force was hurled towards a planet pocketed by battle scars, and bisected across the equator by a large and hideously spidery series of trench works. Two lines, of large, hideously spidery trenchwork. Hopefully when they won this fight, they'd have actually made some head way.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Agriss Zeta, Frontline, Escinor Dominion.
Lord Commander Adelin, Knight of the Grand Cross, the killer of the despot Markeem, and Master Blade, viewed the hundreds of fiery streaks of death that were silently approaching her section of the line. They were beautiful, truly. However, like most beautiful things, these were extremely deadly. Not only could they tear through even the largest Blade as if it were made of tissue paper, but within were enhanced weapons of war, more maneuverable than her Blades, but likewise less armed and armored. She herself had killed dozens of these super maneuverable combatants, but she had also seen dozens of Blades brought down by just one.
"Blades of Lance Damascus, stir your beasts of war for the enemy falls upon us." Under her command were 15 Full Blades, who in turn had command of their own Partial Blades that their apprentices piloted and their countless retainers who hurried about them. She herself only had Arin, who had been given a Full Blade almost immediately. Yet the white and gold of Arin's 'Dread Unblemished' was still dwarfed by Adelin's obsidian carapaced behemoth, the Aurum Magnus.
As her great machine stirred, she could hear it's faint Echo. Some thought it was the combined voice of all the previous pilots of the Blade, others thought it was the voice of the Blade itself, while others still only saw it as a mere glitch in the faultless programming. Whatever she thought it was, she did not say. All she knew was that the Echo was as much a part of her Blade as were it's massive autocannons that could cleave a tank in two with a single burst or the missile array that could either destroy areal targets with contemptuous ease or pulverize the ground into mud.
"Lance Damascus, the enemy wishes to test us. They think we are the weak link. Let us show them how strong we are." Letting out a blaring cry from it's war horns, Aurum Magus began to trudge forward, to meet it's opponent. To show them that it was a force of nature, that could not be stopped.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Brief Lore
Democratic States of Centrice
Centrice, as it's more commonly called, is a place where the lowest slum dog can become a millionaire overnight, but the opposite can happen just as easily. It's a dog eat dog world in Centrice, and the divide between rich and poor is monumental. Slums end abruptly and give way to soaring high rises and pent house apartments. Most people decide to duke it out in the political and economical sphere to try and make it big, but others decide to take a more straight forward route. The military provides ample pay and a steady progression through the ranks. It's not a bad life, but everyone wants to be an Einherjar or Valkyrie, the only difference between the two being their title. They are the trained elite, dropped in sealed containers from orbit to punch a hole in the enemy formation. The danger for the elite is great, some being shot out of the sky and never even making it to the ground, but the pay and prestige is tremendous. And the promise of a trophy world doesn't hurt either. Yet should they flee from battle and end up back in the Centrice, they are Marked. Sealed within specialty built pods outfitted with an array of combat stims, they are thrown into combat to fight one last time before succumbing either to their wounds or the drugs.
Escinor Dominion
Ruled by High King Balan, the Dominion is a feudal, star spanning empire divided into a classes. People often die in the class they were born in, yet compared to similarly placed Centriceans, they live in the lap of luxury. Each planet is ruled by a King or Queen, who divide their realm further and parcel out land to be monitored by Lords and Ladies, who often divide it even further. There is a strict code of conduct between all given classes from the High King/Queen all the way down to the lowest Thrall, which is upheld at all times. These classes are much more easily seen in one place when the Dominion marches to war. Kings, Queens, Lords and Ladies and their chosen retainers rule the battlefield within Blades, gargantuan, bipedal machines that bring death with just a flick of the wrist. Knights and lesser nobility piloted the smaller and more manuverable Half Blade, which is similar to their larger cousins but are more lightly armored and armored. And finally there are the drafted foot soldiers, each outfitted by their ruler and proudly wear the colors and symbol of their home.
Mutations and Mutants
As the human race spread across the stars, they inevitably settled on harsh or inhospitable planets. Over the many years and generations, these people have evolved to better suit their environment. From scaly skin to enlarged canines, the mutations are many. In the Centrice, these mutations mean nothing, you are just another obstacle in their way to greatness. The Dominion, however, greatly value genetic purity, the current High King able to trace his lineage unerringly to Holy Urt, long lost to forgotten star charts. Those with severe mutations are often stay as Thralls and never advance, while those with minor mutations are governors or even Lords and Ladies.
Cause of the Agrris Zeta Conflict
The reason for these two titanic powers fight over this mining world is for the newly discovered metal, Aggrinium. A pound of Aggrinium can buy whole solar systems. But why? Because Aggrinium in its purest form, holds the key to faster than light travel. It is worth throwing hundreds of millions of lives at the planet to secure production of the first FTL engines. Only the High King of the Dominion and the highest echelons of the Centrice know what they are going to do with this technology.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
www.rpnation.com
Hello all. This has been lurking in my mind for the past month or so, and I've finally forced myself to sit down and type out an interest check. Either side is open, either the Dominion of Democratic states. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.
And one last thing, there is discord server I will be inviting you to. Up to you if you want to join or not, I'll be making an OOC on site for those that dont want to be on discord for whatever reason.
Jarl Torny was firmly strapped into his drop pod aboard the vessel Cwellere's Axe, it's drop bay lit by a red light. This was just one of countless many drops for him, and he left the AI to perform it's systems checks automatically, opting instead to make sure the rest of his Einherjar were properly, and securely in their own drop pods. He skipped over the death marked ones, which were already shaking as their occupant began to thrash around in a drug fueled rage.
"Siv, Asketill, keep the Greenie close to you two, you're in charge of making sure he sees another drop." He commanded, choosing to ignore the groans and complaints of the two soldiers. "Gunnar, as soon as we hit I want to hear your gun. Buck, Tormod, Inga, and Elf, range far, range fast, and if anything less than a full lance is coming our way deal with it yourself. If it's a lance or bigger, radio it in and fall back. Maybe we'll get Cwellere here to live up to her name and take care of them for us." This brought a dry laughter from a few of the veteran members, who knew full well this ship's guns were more ornamental at this point.
As they laughed, the ever present red light went out, turned green, and the drop order was given. Almost as soon as the first words were said, the drop bay floors dropped away, the thrusters above the pod ignited, and the strike force was hurled towards a planet pocketed by battle scars, and bisected across the equator by a large and hideously spidery series of trench works. Two lines, of large, hideously spidery trenchwork. Hopefully when they won this fight, they'd have actually made some head way.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Agriss Zeta, Frontline, Escinor Dominion.
Lord Commander Adelin, Knight of the Grand Cross, the killer of the despot Markeem, and Master Blade, viewed the hundreds of fiery streaks of death that were silently approaching her section of the line. They were beautiful, truly. However, like most beautiful things, these were extremely deadly. Not only could they tear through even the largest Blade as if it were made of tissue paper, but within were enhanced weapons of war, more maneuverable than her Blades, but likewise less armed and armored. She herself had killed dozens of these super maneuverable combatants, but she had also seen dozens of Blades brought down by just one.
"Blades of Lance Damascus, stir your beasts of war for the enemy falls upon us." Under her command were 15 Full Blades, who in turn had command of their own Partial Blades that their apprentices piloted and their countless retainers who hurried about them. She herself only had Arin, who had been given a Full Blade almost immediately. Yet the white and gold of Arin's 'Dread Unblemished' was still dwarfed by Adelin's obsidian carapaced behemoth, the Aurum Magnus.
As her great machine stirred, she could hear it's faint Echo. Some thought it was the combined voice of all the previous pilots of the Blade, others thought it was the voice of the Blade itself, while others still only saw it as a mere glitch in the faultless programming. Whatever she thought it was, she did not say. All she knew was that the Echo was as much a part of her Blade as were it's massive autocannons that could cleave a tank in two with a single burst or the missile array that could either destroy areal targets with contemptuous ease or pulverize the ground into mud.
"Lance Damascus, the enemy wishes to test us. They think we are the weak link. Let us show them how strong we are." Letting out a blaring cry from it's war horns, Aurum Magus began to trudge forward, to meet it's opponent. To show them that it was a force of nature, that could not be stopped.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Brief Lore
Democratic States of Centrice
Centrice, as it's more commonly called, is a place where the lowest slum dog can become a millionaire overnight, but the opposite can happen just as easily. It's a dog eat dog world in Centrice, and the divide between rich and poor is monumental. Slums end abruptly and give way to soaring high rises and pent house apartments. Most people decide to duke it out in the political and economical sphere to try and make it big, but others decide to take a more straight forward route. The military provides ample pay and a steady progression through the ranks. It's not a bad life, but everyone wants to be an Einherjar or Valkyrie, the only difference between the two being their title. They are the trained elite, dropped in sealed containers from orbit to punch a hole in the enemy formation. The danger for the elite is great, some being shot out of the sky and never even making it to the ground, but the pay and prestige is tremendous. And the promise of a trophy world doesn't hurt either. Yet should they flee from battle and end up back in the Centrice, they are Marked. Sealed within specialty built pods outfitted with an array of combat stims, they are thrown into combat to fight one last time before succumbing either to their wounds or the drugs.
Escinor Dominion
Ruled by High King Balan, the Dominion is a feudal, star spanning empire divided into a classes. People often die in the class they were born in, yet compared to similarly placed Centriceans, they live in the lap of luxury. Each planet is ruled by a King or Queen, who divide their realm further and parcel out land to be monitored by Lords and Ladies, who often divide it even further. There is a strict code of conduct between all given classes from the High King/Queen all the way down to the lowest Thrall, which is upheld at all times. These classes are much more easily seen in one place when the Dominion marches to war. Kings, Queens, Lords and Ladies and their chosen retainers rule the battlefield within Blades, gargantuan, bipedal machines that bring death with just a flick of the wrist. Knights and lesser nobility piloted the smaller and more manuverable Half Blade, which is similar to their larger cousins but are more lightly armored and armored. And finally there are the drafted foot soldiers, each outfitted by their ruler and proudly wear the colors and symbol of their home.
Mutations and Mutants
As the human race spread across the stars, they inevitably settled on harsh or inhospitable planets. Over the many years and generations, these people have evolved to better suit their environment. From scaly skin to enlarged canines, the mutations are many. In the Centrice, these mutations mean nothing, you are just another obstacle in their way to greatness. The Dominion, however, greatly value genetic purity, the current High King able to trace his lineage unerringly to Holy Urt, long lost to forgotten star charts. Those with severe mutations are often stay as Thralls and never advance, while those with minor mutations are governors or even Lords and Ladies.
Cause of the Agrris Zeta Conflict
The reason for these two titanic powers fight over this mining world is for the newly discovered metal, Aggrinium. A pound of Aggrinium can buy whole solar systems. But why? Because Aggrinium in its purest form, holds the key to faster than light travel. It is worth throwing hundreds of millions of lives at the planet to secure production of the first FTL engines. Only the High King of the Dominion and the highest echelons of the Centrice know what they are going to do with this technology.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Futuristic - The Conflict of Agrris Zeta (CS)
Depending on your chosen faction, pick one of the two CS's listed below.
www.rpnation.com
Hello all. This has been lurking in my mind for the past month or so, and I've finally forced myself to sit down and type out an interest check. Either side is open, either the Dominion of Democratic states. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.
And one last thing, there is discord server I will be inviting you to. Up to you if you want to join or not, I'll be making an OOC on site for those that dont want to be on discord for whatever reason.
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