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Futuristic The Cosmic Alliance || IC Thread (Open RP)

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Lycanious

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Cosmic Alliance
GenreSci-Fi, Sandbox
OOCDiscord
Status Accepting
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  • Intro
    The galaxy is old, very old, and has seen the rise and fall of many an empire in its time. Many bitter wars have been fought and alliances forged in the name of resources or carving out pieces of territory, but as far as the galaxy is concerned, such events have always been but a brief flash in the pan at best. At best, a civilisation can hope to have an intergalactic force that rules with such power and longevity, that it may actually make for an interesting footnote somewhere before it is inevitably cut down to size like all that came before it.

    Such is the nature of the Vanished Galaxy, so-named because of mildly-concerning legends of entire empires and unstoppable armies simply…vanishing. Gone without a trace, or cut down from their prime so abruptly that anthropologists and historians are left scratching their heads over what exactly happened. The galaxy is vast after all, and huge sections of it still remain a mystery to nearly all of its inhabitants. Surely, there could be answers lurking beyond the Known Sphere, though whether it would be possible or wise for anyone to ever seek them out is often up for debate.

    But you, of course, want nothing to do with any of that. The Cosmic Alliance doesn’t appreciate people poking their noses around into dangerous areas and trains of thought after all. And who would want to squander a hard-earned opportunity to join its ever-growing ranks so easily?

    Founded approximately 200 years ago, The Cosmic Alliance is the latest attempt by more placid or, alternatively, more desperate members of the galaxy to form a federation built on peace and prosperity. Led by an enigmatic leadership simply known as ‘The Council’, its primary focus is to create an intergalactic union of planets for defensive and economic purposes. It is noteworthy in particular for taking even pre-space worlds under its wings, shielding them from the outside dangers of the galaxy and offering a gentle, guiding hand from afar until it is decided that they too, are ready to join the alliance.

    You are most likely a member of The Cosmic Alliance, or at the very least, someone who was dragged along onto this ship by someone else that is a member. Perhaps you are a fresh new recruit, eager to serve your ship on its first mission, or a hardened old officer sent to keep an eye on the new trainees. You could be someone who is merely passing through, seeking travel from one planet to another, or hoping to sell a few of your ill-gotten wares from an Elysiel junkyard before any of the snootier staff members catch wind of your activities.

    For whatever your reason, you are here, on The Observer. And that’s soon to be a twist of fate that could very well let you make your mark on Vanished history.
Intro
Rules
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World
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Background Image from Frank Cone from Pexels



Intro
The galaxy is old, very old, and has seen the rise and fall of many an empire in its time. Many bitter wars have been fought and alliances forged in the name of resources or carving out pieces of territory, but as far as the galaxy is concerned, such events have always been but a brief flash in the pan at best. At best, a civilisation can hope to have an intergalactic force that rules with such power and longevity, that it may actually make for an interesting footnote somewhere before it is inevitably cut down to size like all that came before it.

Such is the nature of the Vanished Galaxy, so-named because of mildly-concerning legends of entire empires and unstoppable armies simply…vanishing. Gone without a trace, or cut down from their prime so abruptly that anthropologists and historians are left scratching their heads over what exactly happened. The galaxy is vast after all, and huge sections of it still remain a mystery to nearly all of its inhabitants. Surely, there could be answers lurking beyond the Known Sphere, though whether it would be possible or wise for anyone to ever seek them out is often up for debate.

But you, of course, want nothing to do with any of that. The Cosmic Alliance doesn’t appreciate people poking their noses around into dangerous areas and trains of thought after all. And who would want to squander a hard-earned opportunity to join its ever-growing ranks so easily?

Founded approximately 200 years ago, The Cosmic Alliance is the latest attempt by more placid or, alternatively, more desperate members of the galaxy to form a federation built on peace and prosperity. Led by an enigmatic leadership simply known as ‘The Council’, its primary focus is to create an intergalactic union of planets for defensive and economic purposes. It is noteworthy in particular for taking even pre-space worlds under its wings, shielding them from the outside dangers of the galaxy and offering a gentle, guiding hand from afar until it is decided that they too, are ready to join the alliance.

You are most likely a member of The Cosmic Alliance, or at the very least, someone who was dragged along onto this ship by someone else that is a member. Perhaps you are a fresh new recruit, eager to serve your ship on its first mission, or a hardened old officer sent to keep an eye on the new trainees. You could be someone who is merely passing through, seeking travel from one planet to another, or hoping to sell a few of your ill-gotten wares from an Elysiel junkyard before any of the snootier staff members catch wind of your activities.

For whatever your reason, you are here, on The Observer. And that’s soon to be a twist of fate that could very well let you make your mark on Vanished history.

Rules & Guidelines

Please note that rules may be added or modified as needed in the future.

1. Treat others with respect

This should go without saying, but please remember to respect each other throughout the roleplay and on the server, and remember that there is another human being on the other side of your screen. Hate speech and harassment of other members will not be tolerated.

2. Communicate with others

This roleplay recognises that people can get busy and that real life takes priority over the story. It's fine if you need some extra time to come up with a reply, need to take a break from things, or even quit the roleplay all together. All that we ask is that, if possible, to please communicate this clearly with other members.

3. Be mindful of the posting schedule

Our current aim is to try to post at least once a fortnight. Though players will not be kicked out of the roleplay for failing to post in this time, a period of two weeks without a post or any communication about it will have us assume that the player is on hiatus until further notice.

This means that anyone involved in interactions with them is free to skip the reply and continue onwards with the roleplay. Their characters may also be shuffled to the background as off-screen NPCs, though they are able to rejoin the roleplay at any time should the player return. We do our best to respect the characters of others when this happens and minimise any further interactions or consequences for them, but we may give them an in-story nudge off-screen if necessary.

4. Semi-Lit and Literate Friendly

We find that the length of the roleplay post is less important than the ability to interact with it and reply in an easy manner. While we prefer a minimum of 2-3 paragraphs on average, shorter lengths are fine as long as you are able to give other roleplayers some dialogue, action, etc for them to bounce off of in their response. Quality over quantity is the general rule of thumb.

5. We are an 18+ Group

This is a roleplay intended for an older audience alongside of its OOC Discord. We ask that anyone who requests to join be at least 18 years old.

6. We are a primarily LGBTQ+ Group

While anyone is welcome to the server regardless of their identity, we want to stress that there are a high number of LGBTQ+ members currently present on the server and that there is a good chance that many of our characters will likewise share such identities as part of their stories. Please only join the server if you are comfortable with this.

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Asterodia Dor Ulfgaar
Mjiorian | 27 | Fluid (She/Her)

A temperamental Mjiorian of some small fame on the planet of Aevin'aar as the adopted daughter of the legendary Captain Skrul. Despite not being related to the family by blood she is additionally the current Aard Bal'dor to Dor Ulfgaar. This is a responsibility that she does not take lightly, and thus has been training for the role for a number of years. She is currently on an assignment from The Cosmic Alliance as a ship mechanic on The Observer.


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Isilynor Tralamin
Sylphiel | 33 | Non-Binary (He/They)

Current favoured heir to the Tralamin Guild on Elysiel, a talented expert in cybernetic engineering, and determined to remind others of both of those facts constantly. Isilynor can usually be found in their on-ship lab or stomping around in the hallways somewhere arguing over the conditions of the ship and the fact that no one around here ever seems to have an inch of respect for them. Isilynor is probably right.


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Zikvien Vizis-Tevika-Gaktiel
Zita-Gaxx (Korii) | 82 | Female-Presenting (She/Her)

A rather bluntly-spoken, introverted zita-gaxx that has recently found herself in a role as part of the security team for The Observer. Despite her species’ appearance Zikvien is considered to be something of a gentle giant among the crew, providing you don’t give her reason to have to leap to their protection.

Please note that this is just a summary of a few key aspects of the world, and more detail can be found in our
Lore Thread



About The Cosmic Alliance

The Cosmic Alliance can be split into four distinctive branches of the organisation, and an overarching, honorary ‘fifth’ branch said to focus on keeping the other four branches in harmony. The structure is derived from The Four Founders, four alien nations that banded together to form the first iteration of The Cosmic Alliance. Each nation offered itself as the experts of their respective fields, and agreed to collectively share their knowledge, technology, resources and military strength in the event of The Strix or other antagonistic factions suddenly turning their eyes towards any of them.

Though the Cosmic Alliance preaches equality amongst all its members on neutral territory, it is undeniable that the majority of its administrative personnel are still made up of aliens from the original four founders and that they enjoy the most recognition and prestige amongst its members. The branches include Diplomacy, Economics, Military, Scientific, and an overarching Administration Branch.

The Council
The Administration Branch primarily consists of a council of leaders, and the staff that work directly for them. The Council is made up of, typically, one representative per planet within the alliance, though exceptions have been made to this number for a variety of reasons. The basis for how these representatives are chosen can vary wildly, as this is dictated by the laws and customs of each planet in question. While the Cosmic Alliance is considered to be a democracy, with big decisions usually being decided by vote among its members, the council does have the authority to override this vote. They also hold the authority to vote on behalf of their planet during time-sensitive incidents, or similar scenarios where it would be logistically impossible to gather an acceptable amount of votes in the time allowed.

Policies
Please note that more information will likely be added here over time as the world and setting evolves.

General Rules & Systems of Law

Due to the variety of races and cultures within The Cosmic Alliance, the organisation for the most-part allows for individual planets to dictate the rules of their space. Though neutral territory exists and abides by the laws set by The Council, most ships, space stations, and worlds instead follow the rules of the nation that owns them within The Alliance. Cultural expectations and acceptances of different lifestyles can therefore vary wildly between locations, and while most nations within The Cosmic Alliance are at least tolerant of those unfamiliar with their ways, it is highly recommended that Alliance members brush up on local legalities before entering new territory.

Currency & Trade

The Cosmic Alliance uses a standardised form of currency known as ‘Bitz’ within its borders, and prices its wares accordingly. Bartering systems are still common amongst individuals though, and it is considered as normal to offer an equivalent resource or use of one’s skill as it would be to pay a vendor in bits. Societies within the Cosmic Alliance may still maintain their own system of currency, though the vast majority of places will accept either form and provide exchange conversions when needed.

Associates & Enemies

The Strix Empire

An overarching, constant worry lingering at the back of the Council’s mind. Despite the threat of The Strix being one of the key driving factors in forming the Cosmic Alliance in the first place, so-far the Empire has done little to draw the ire of the Alliance since its inception. Instead The Strix seem to mostly target planets outside of the protection of the Alliance, or merely observe its various actions and affairs from afar. The Cosmic Alliance considers The Strix to be a very dangerous entity, and urges its members to report any semblance of activity spotted to The Council immediately.

The Obsidian Rose

A mercenary group spanning across many planets. The Obsidian Rose is typically considered a neutral party in political affairs between other factions, though they have been known to pick sides from time to time for more personal issues and beliefs.

The Obsidian Rose offers a variety of services to anyone willing to pay the price of them, ranging from mundane delivery and escort missions to the more nefarious reputation they have for successful ship heists and tracking down high-profile targets. They have a complex relationship with The Cosmic Alliance as a result, as they have been known to rob a ship blind one day and then risk their own safety to save it the next day. This would suggest that the group does have some form of moral code among its members, but as to what exactly that code is still somewhat of a mystery to The Cosmic Alliance.

The symbol of The Obsidian Rose is a black rose, and they have been known to leave behind this flower or decorate items with its image as a mark of their presence. Sometimes the tips of the rose will be dipped in another colour which is used to represent a specific member of the group, most famous of which is the silver-tipped rose that the leader, Silverclaw, uses.

World Information

Communication

Given the diversity of species one is likely to come across in everyday life, communication can be one of the most difficult burdens to overcome. A number of organisations will settle on a ‘Universal Language’ that they expect their employees to learn, which does its best to accommodate for a variety of speech patterns but is still an ever-evolving process and has its limitations.

For those with a significant amount of units to spend and a fondness of cybernetics there are translator chips, a tiny technological marvel that is injected into the brain or closest equivalent organ at youth. The chip integrates with the sections of the brain responsible for speech and translates what the owner hears into their native tongue, providing it is one of the hundreds of languages currently available in the Universal Languages Database. Other, much less expensive varieties exist as external devices - which can do the same for their owner providing they are properly attached and regularly updated.

Omnian Language

The Omnian Language is an ongoing development by the Cosmic Alliance as their standard default with all internal affairs. The language is a manufactured one and is constantly expanding and developing based on the needs of its potential users. The Cosmic Alliance heavily encourages all of its employees to learn it to the best of their abilities, and freely offers classes and learning materials to civilians.

There are several different formats of the language being developed due to the variety of methods of communication in the galaxy, which can be distinguished by an optional suffix to describe the format of it. Such examples include Omnispeak, Omniscript, and Omnisign.

The Universal Languages Database (ULD) & ULD Devices

The pride and joy of the Sylphiel race, and a huge contributor to the success of The Cosmic Alliance. The ULD is a collection of languages gathered from hundreds of planets, and is constantly being improved on and updated every cycle. Members of The Cosmic Alliance are granted standard ULD devices when operating on behalf of the alliance, which are typically worn around the wrist or neck. Though not painful if installed properly, a ULD device typically does need to attach small nodes to the nervous system in order to function properly. Improper installation or removal may result in discomfort or minor injury, as well as tamper with the device.

Space Travel

Several forms of long-distant space travel exist across the galaxy. The method most often used by The Cosmic Alliance is the warp method to propel their ships forward at incredible speeds and navigate between star systems in a manner of hours. In an emergency, and at the cost of a huge amount of power, Cosmic Alliance ships can set their engines into overdrive and use this technology to effectively teleport to another point in the galaxy. This ability however is considered to be dangerous to engines and the destination highly unpredictable, potentially stranding the ship in a worse situation than the one it was trying to get away from. Warp Teleporting should be considered as a final, last-ditch effort to escape when all other options appear to be exhausted.

Apply

To join the roleplay, please express your interest in the Recruitment Thread, apply in the Character Thread, or simply send a private message to Lycanious for a link if you just want to check out the Discord for now.

Just want to get a feel for the roleplay, peek at the lore, or chat to the other people participating before making any decisions to join? That's fine too. The Discord is open to roleplayers and quiet lurkers alike, and there's no hard feelings if you end up deciding it's not for you.
 

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Isilynor
Status --- Terrified, Minor Injury
Location --- Observer, Food Court
Others --- Rowan

“Excited to be back on Elysiel again soon?”

It took a moment for Isilynor to realise that the question was being aimed at himself, given how rare it was for the crew to address him in such a manner. A feathered head lifted from the screen he had set down on the table in front of him, pointed talons hovering over its surface as he debated momentarily whether he was going to even entertain the inquiry enough to warrant pressing the pause button. “Pardon?”

A set of mildly curious, dark eyes settled back on Isilynor’s own golden ones. The sylphiel blinked in response, a frown etching onto his features while the blue haired human instead gave a mildly amused smirk. “Just making conversation Izzy. It’s a human thing.”

Isilynor emitted a faint huff. They stared back for a moment longer, processing this, before finally their attention shifted back down to the documentary they were trying to finish before the end of their lunch break. “Evidently, yes.” He murmured with his usual hint of derision. “So perhaps you best try such an activity on a fellow human, instead.”

For a blissful three seconds, there was silence from human. And then they decided to invite themselves into taking a seat on the opposite side of the table, making a short ‘pfft’ sound with their mouth before placing their elbows on the table and leaning forward to rest their chin upon their hands. “Nah, much more fun to annoy someone like you instead.”

“You are doing a superb job of it, then.” Hummed the sylphiel, finally tapping at the pause button with a performative sigh. “Go on then, Rowan. Indulge me with whatever inane thoughts are floating around in that spacious cranium of yours.”

“Well, you’re from Elysiel, right?” Rowan began, pausing momentarily to take a sip from the coffee cup they had brought over to what was, usually, the quiet little corner of The Observer’s food court that was reserved for sylphiels due to their sensitive diets. When he relented with a nod their expression brightened. “Good, good. I’ve got the next few days free while the ship parks there. Never been to Elysiel before, I want to know what sort of nightlife entertainment is around.”

“Mm, museums and theatres, mostly.” Hummed Isilynor. “Our libraries are open all hours, as well.”

“...Is that it? Damn. Didn’t realise being a boring old fart was a sylphiel trait and not just a ‘you’ trait.” Tutted Rowan, shaking their head at the thought. “Well, it’d be nice to meet up with the family again at least, I imagine.”

“...Indeed.” Isilynor agreed in a tired tone, deciding that simply choosing to agree with Rowan would perhaps let them avoid having to elaborate any more on that. He watched as their mouth opened once more, about to pose some other equally bothersome question for them, when abruptly a heavy force thumped against the table that the two shared. Isilynor flinched back in surprise, a mixture of blue and purple feathers puffing up on an old, instinctive attempt to make their form look larger. They began to smooth down once more once they realised who the sudden new arrival was, though.

“Captain…?” Isilynor announced, eyebrow arching with bafflement as they wavered between a polite address and an inquiry as to why Captain Oxworth had decided to slam his palms into their table and hunch over the pair of them. Rowan, likewise, looked equally perplexed by this. They however were more bold with their attempts to figure out why, reaching forward to pat the older human on the arm. “Hey, uh, you’re looking a lot more pale than usual are you okay-”

As soon as the hand made contact with flesh, Oxworth convulsed. Isilynor stamped their talons into the tiled floor below, scratching and scrambling for a grip upon its polished surface as he scooted his chair backwards and rose to his feet. “Captain?!” He could hear Rowan cry once more, now beginning to fish out a small comms device from their pocket. They tapped away at the screen a few times, then brought it up closer to their face to speak into the microphone. “Hello? Yeah? Doctor? I think we got a medical problem in-”

With the sound of ripping fabric, what looked to be a wispy, smoky tendril burst from back of Oxworth. Like a whip it cracked through the air, slamming into the device that Rowan held out and shoving them backwards to the ground from the sheer velocity with a startled yelp.

The noise of Rowan’s fall sent the food court into a brief shock. Dozens of eyes whirled around to see what the fuss was about, only to witness the sight of the captain’s form beginning to melt and morph into something else. Startled cries and screams started to sound, as those present in the ship’s food court either watched onwards in stunned terror or began to make a mad dash towards the exit. Isilynor likewise tried to flee, but was quickly impeded when a clawed limb snaked out from the growing, amorphous shape of the former captain to swing wide and latch onto their arm. Isilynor screeched in response, reaching across to dig the claws of their golden, cybernetic arm that was still loose into the flesh of the creature that was forming before them. It made a similar cry in response, as if mimicking and echoing back Isilynor’s voice, but still clenched as tightly around the limb as before. Isilynor watched on in horror as the last remnants of the captain’s form gave way to what appeared to be a constant, shifting mass of tendrils and limbs of varying functions, some tipped with talons like theirs while others ended in the hands of a human or the hoof of a bo’grul. Said limbs started to waver and stretch outwards, clawing and grabbing at any passenger that let them get too close.

In Isilynor’s peripherals they could see a familiar flash of blue leap up and over one of the upturned tables to take partial cover, revealing itself to be Rowan. Shaking hands scrambled about for the phone that had been knocked away from them. At last, just as the creature turned to face them, they managed to retrieve their comms device and began to holler into it. “SECURITY TO THE FOOD COURT!” Rowan roared above the commotion of the crowd. Isilynor felt the grip on their arms remain but loosen, as more wispy smoke-like tendrils started to snake out from the amorphous creature and weave their way through the air and around the table towards the human it now recognised was going to remain a threat. Again Isilynor tried to wrench his arms back once more, finally breaking free of its grip and earning himself another eerily-familiar screeching snap from its fangs as he desperately clawed and scrambled away as far as he could get. From within its core a singular, glowing orb of light flared into existence, swivelling around and tracing the movements of those that still remained within the food court like a singular, fiery eye.

Isilynor in that moment decided that he knew exactly what the ship was currently facing, and hastily scrambled for his own device.

Barking a sharp order for it to switch to broadcasting mode, he then added his own panicked squawks to the end of Rowan’s cry to the crew. “STRIX! WE HAVE A STRIX ON BOARD!”

 
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Aezsaa

They were struggling with adjusting to the artificial day/night cycle on the Observer. Especially as their familiarity with such a cycle consisted of a different length in time for both compared to what the ship was utilizing. While Draxieks didn't truly sleep, Aezsaa still found herself unable to properly rest and recoup. And, these days, it was even more vital that she try to do so. Anxiously, they brought their hand to the crystal core in their chest, feeling its faded strength pulsate against their fingers.

She was giving up on trying to rest for now. Reaching over for the cane she'd obtained shortly after the loss of her arm and damage to her Core, Aezsaa rolled herself out of the standard cot built into each room the Cosmic Alliance issued to its staff members. Rumor held that guests aboard the ship had less utilitarian establishments. She didn't mind the simple cot. But she did wish for a... slightly larger room. For now, Aezsaa continued to tell herself that there was merely a mix-up.

As she hunched down to avoid hitting her head upon the low ceiling....

Claws and cane clicking along the flooring, Aezsaa passed through the hallways, nodding here and there at the occasional crewmate in mild greeting. Eventually, they found their way to the food court where there tended to be a fair level of activity regardless of the time. They moved towards the service line, hoping to get something that'll help nourish their Core even if only temporarily.

"How are you feeling today?" She paused, glancing over at the crewmate who spoke, recognizing the human. Heather was a cyborg, a fact that was truly only revealed either by him expressing so or by catching a glimpse of red light within the brown iris of his left eye. "You need to keep your crystal thing charged, don't you?" Aezsaa nodded slightly, not sure how to contribute to the conversation as she couldn't be certain of where it was meant to go. Heather grabbed an apple and quickly bit into it before continuing. "Will it ever heal?"

Aezsaa started to frown. "It's not--" The words cut short as a sharp sound carried to their ears, breaking through the usual din of the food court. Then there was the shouting. Turning to find the source of the commotion, Aezsaa dropped the tray she'd grabbed, Heather's voice drowning beneath the erupting cacophony in the cafeteria. Strix... Her legs were already moving before the full weight of the situation even sank in. The creature's glowing core was searching, scanning.

As it lashed tendrils out at the various crewmembers and passengers in the food court, Aezsaa smacked their cane downward upon one such tendril. It recoiled then imitated their snarl with a shriek of its own. Their flesh rippled as their Core sparked, their body morphing and hardening into stone. Wings beat behind them, doing little to actually lift them off the ground but plenty to propel them forward. Their tail lashed as they swiped fearsome claws at the Strix.

It snatched at them with another tendril, snapping up like a whip to throw them against the closest wall. Aezsaa gasped, the pain quaking through her form. All she was doing was reacting. Collapsing to the floor, she hissed against the pain. She needed to be more careful and actually think. Glancing quickly towards Isilynor and Rowan, her gaze then shifted back to her cane. Discarded, she found it laying amongst the forming debris and pressed the band that wrapped around the top of her shattered arm. The cane activated and rushed towards her with the little hover tech it possessed. Catching it, Aezsaa proceeded to pick herself off the ground. Just in time to stab the cane into a limb the Strix launched at her.
 
Raks Aks-Hak
in the Quartermaster’s Office

Raks Aks-Hak was hunched over at his work terminal, scanning the many tabs he had open: Market rates for OEM power cells, shelf stable meal components, News from Ek-Gaht, Messages (1) Raks Ke-Khos. Raks Aks-Hak had busied himself with the ordinary tasks of the job of quartermaster. Although the Cosmic Alliance had a long supply chain, which Raks Aks-Hak was persistently in contact with, many day-to-day incidental items were acquired by the ship itself. Personal care items, species specific foods, and sometimes jump material.

Raks Aks-Hak took a deep breath before he opened the message tab with his uncle Raks Ke-Khos. The latest message started with a long string of financial information.

Greetings Nephew,

50,000 Gnonashak for steel right now nephew, the prices are incredible. I know your brother Raks Ke-Nhag will profit greatly from trading in the Gan-Bos Los-Ghat system. You must convince him of this venture urgently.

With that out of the way, how are you doing? I know you are very far from home, and it may feel lonely on that ship, but you have done so good by the family.
We are proud of your service in the Cosmic Alliance, Aks-Nas Los-Khos Gan-Gan-Gan Bos Kat [translation: you are rewarded forever with 100,000 stars].

Your service will be a good example to the Cosmic Alliance, and secure the good name of our people within the records of history.
We see your face and name on the posters here in town along with the many who have gone to serve in the new alliance.

If you’re feeling lonely, you can always talk to me or your friends. In fact, you may run into some of your friends on your travels. Blessings forever nephew.

Ke-Khos


Raks Aks-Hak sighed in relief and relaxed in his chair. He whipped his head as the door to the office was caved inward. He reached into his tunic and drew out a palm sized taser pistol. He sprinted to the door and flung it open.

A human crew member held a fire extinguisher above his head as a mass of tendrils flew out from the face of what used to be an Mjiorian crew member. Raks Aks-Hak ran up to the back of the seething mass and pressed his pistol against its back.

Raks Aks-Hak squeezed the trigger. Ear splitting snaps came from the taser, causing the tendrils to convulse. The skin of the Strix was scorched by the electrical charge. The Strix shrieked in pain as Raks Aks-Hak slapped out the battery pack and loaded another. He pulled the trigger. An arc of light danced across the surface of the Strix. Its voice had become distorted by fluid. A tendril slapped Raks Aks-Hak across the head, but the crew member with the fire extinguisher crushed the Strix to the ground. Raks Aks-Hak and the crew member kicked and beat the mass until it ceased moving.

Raks Aks-Hak looked at the Strix’s corpse, then to the human crew member. “Nhag Ohm Nas-Gan ka — excuse me, if there’s one of these here there’s more on the ship. Notify security, now!”

Members of the logistics team came out from the nearby main office. One crew member came up to Raxax in a hurry.

“Chief, what’s going on?!” The crew member asked. Raks Aks-Hak holstered his taser pistol and rubbed the side of his head.

“It looks like an infiltration. Go to the office and barricade the door,” Raks Aks-Hak said. “Only open it when security has given the all clear. I will meet with security and see if we can do a check of the supply areas. If there are hostiles on this ship, there may be bombs, or worse on-board.”

“Worse, sir?” One crew member said.

“SPOILED VEGETABLES! You know how hard it is to get a cabbage in space!?” Raks Aks-Hak strutted down the hallway. “Batten down the hatches and wait for security.”

Raks Aks-Hak looked at a red cabinet on the wall. A Gunnarson wrench sat within the case. Three feet of iron with a wrench head and a forked butt. The Gunnarson wrench was made for rare cases when you had to manually force open sliding doors, either with the crank or with a fork. Raks Aks-Hak broke the glass with the butt of his stun pistol and grabbed the Gunnarson wrench before walking down the hallway.
 
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Fantôme Mörkö
Bored > Agitated. Personal Quarters > Mess Hall

Space... The final frontier, long ago, many races viewed the stars as but maps of their own planets, a way to guide themselves home while the sun sets. Though with the turn of time and the ever present progression of technology, the stars now serve to guide between planets, and to new civilizations...

Viewing away from the holo-video, a sigh would come from the mouth of the nearby woman, her cheek firmly rested on her hand as she looked to a different screen, watching a small countdown tick away, waiting for an event to start, a concert no less. Breaking her posture the woman would spin in her chair, rising from it to brush the crumbs of her snack from her chest. Dressed in a simple white shirt overtop of a pair of black shorts, it was apparent she was not on duty... Or even ready to leave bed for that matter, as she looked at her room, and particularly the clock that rest over the door... "I suppose something to eat would not hurt... I still have a good bit before the concert..." She'd say, stepping through a different doorway, entering a much larger room, her bare feet feeling the cold of the metal floors.

Inside there were several panels, some being absolutely massive compared to the woman, resting next to a large stasis chamber containing her natural body. Seemingly perpetually asleep in stasis, allowing time to pass on her body as it normally would. Approaching a smaller panel next to a stasis chamber built for her smaller body, she'd tap a few keys, seeming to check information on it for a moment, having spent part of the day in a different body, it was difficult to track meals between the two, though her ID card logged meals for each body, making things much easier for figuring out. Entering her credentials, her name would appear atop the files, Fantôme Mörkö. Another moment would pass, as she looked through the details, before a scoff and a nod, noting her last time of meal in this body was over 18 hours ago.

Passing through the door again, Fantôme would enter her cluttered room, with various model kits and figures decorating the many shelves around, alongside two screens brought up at her desk, which was the usual cluttered mess, with various drink cups scattered about with snack wrappers, "accenting" several smaller figures that stood between and around the screens, though she lived relatively clean, that was always her vice, she'd get so engrossed with what she was doing, she'd forget to clean, then get distracted, and so on. Taking a sigh, the Drerrari would change into her uniform, making sure the details were correct before looking to her pillows, holding an arm out, "Come on Lyrae, we're getting a meal." She'd call out, watching first a small snake head pop out, before slithering from under the pillow with a yawn and wing stretch, before a couple of bats of the wings for the little creature to find it's way on Fantôme's arm, coiling and wrapping it's way up before seeming to rest it's head on her shoulder.

Walking from her room, the Drerrari would make her way through the halls, humming a small tune to herself as she walked, that is, until the call came over the radio.

“SECURITY TO THE FOOD COURT!”

“STRIX! WE HAVE A STRIX ON BOARD!”


A pause came from Fantôme for but a moment, before she picked up her pace from a casual walk to a full sprint. Pushing through the bodies of people, she'd excuse herself and push towards the mess hall as fast as she could, "Lyrae, in my coat." She'd say, feeling her couatl move into her coat, finding a comfortable pocket at her back to put itself as she ran. Entering the mess hall, Fantôme would leap over two of the tables without even a thought, landing behind the third as she drew her knife, a struggle had already begun as Fantôme entered, her eyes quickly darted about, first noticing Rowan, followed by Isilynor, and finally Aezsaa. Slashing at a nearby tendril with force, Fantôme would let out a hiss in her native tongue, before calling towards it, "Oi. Over here." She'd say, lunging at it with her blade, keeping it close should any tendrils come towards her, should she get close enough, she was going to stab what she could presume was centre mass.
 

Aenwyn Dor Korr'tek and Virgil Cerullo​

Status -- Alive​

Location -- Food Court​

Others -- Isilynor, Rowan, Aeszaa, Fantôme

A bloody Strix? Fuck's sake, how the hells....? Aenwyn had been thinking to herself as she began to run towards the food court. S Strix had gotten on board. She started thinking about who could've harbored it, how in the hells it had managed to get in. How did this go right under my nose? "Oi Virgil, be ready. This could be a hell of a fight," she snaps at the cadet, who runs at a brisk pace behind her.

"On it, ma'am!" Virgil calls back.

"Don't fucking call me that." She grumbles, not liking the older form of address. "Either Aenwyn or Second, nothing else."

"Yes, Second!"

He catches on surprisingly fast. Her teeth grit together, eyes widening as she hears the sound of a shot. "Shit, shit shit--" her heart races as she approaches the door. It's chaos in there, and she can hear it. "Gods dammit, what- she moves to the side when door opens and Raks Aks-Hak moves past her. ".......Good day?" She grumbles, now rushing into the food court with Virgil in tow. "Aye, what the hells happened here? There's a Strix on- ..................So that's where I heard the gun... Virgil."

"Yes, Second?"

"Help me kill this thing." She grabs her blade, while Virgil grabs his baton. "Everyone else, stand back." She hacks at it a few times with her blade, before deciging it would be better to jopin Virgil in crushing the remaining limbs. "Come on, Virgil, a little more force, please?! They're bloody dangerous."

"Yes ma-- Second." Virgil quickly corrects himself. He swings the baton several times at the core of it.
 

QHR2hNI.png
Isilynor
Status --- Terrified, Minor Injury
Location --- Observer, Food Court
Others --- Multiple crew members

Isilynor held no delusions of being a hero, nor could claim to currently have any weapons currently on hand. As a few braver souls decided to dash their way into the food court they found themself far more concerned with scrambling back to a safer distance in search of either debris to defend themself with, or a clear path to the exit. Most of the attendees had managed to exit the room at this point, leaving just the panicked sylphiel and a handful of crewmates and civilians alike that apparently held no semblance of survival instinct within them. Isilynor almost made it to the exit himself, were it not for one of the tendrils to swing wide and latch itself onto the metal of his left arm. Sylphiel profanity filled the cafeteria in that moment, as Isilynor simultaneously kicked out at the limb while frantically pressing and pulling at various latches, buttons, and wires in an attempt to disconnect the limb entirely as a means of escape.

All in all, the attacks seemed to serve more as a nuisance to the creature at best. Mere distractions to divide its attention between, as it roared, and snapped, and clawed at whoever dared to lash out at it instead of flee from its presence. Aezsaa’s cane successfully pinned one of its tendrils in place momentarily, but the flesh it had embedded itself in was quick to shudder and waver, morphing to a gas-like vapour in order to remove the offending object. The wisps however looked to retreat back to the main body of the shapeshifter instead of choosing to reform, briefly providing the draxiek with precious seconds to compose herself before another, heavier tendril collided with them in an attempt to knock them prone.

What seemed to put the shapeshifter on alert the most was when its opponents started to near it, prompting it to begin to draw its various limbs back towards its centre. First it scrambled for Fantôme’s knife, a hoof kicking out at her knee while smaller, wiry tendrils tried to grasp around the edge of the blade without injuring themselves. With the appearance of both Aenwyn and Virgil though, its attention seemed to finally waver, movements becoming erratic and peculiar as it seemingly finally found its limit in how many opponents it could successfully keep track of at once. Tendrils whirled into a frenzy as Virgil surged forward and started to bludgeon the fiery core of its centre. Many of them tucked inwards and attempted to form a barrier between his weapon and the core itself, while the other half took advantage of his close proximity to latch around his arms.

“STAY YOUR DISTANCE YOU HALF-WITTED IMBECILES!” Cried Isilynor over the commotion as wide, golden eyes spotted Virgil’s form, now heavily enveloped in a mass of tendrils in an attempt to stop his attack. The Strix then hoisted the human into the air, tendrils beginning to pull in opposite directions. For a brief moment, Virgil would have found himself restrained entirely, each limb feeling more and more pressure on its joints as the creature’s eye-like core flared and glared up at him-

A booming crackle sounded from the core, like thunder, and mercifully Virgil was thrown back to the ground. Emerging from the doorway to the cafeteria stood the imposing form of Kharzon, Chief of Security, and what looked to be a force-field projector propped up on his arms. Around the core swirled now a blue, ethereal bubble, the fire of the object contained within still flaring brightly.

The twisted up form of the creature then collapsed in on itself, crumbling to what looked to be lumescent, glittering particles of dust and colourful smoke that billowed and scattered into the air from the motion. Isilynor was quick to grab the collar of their shirt and slip it up over the top of their beak-like maw in response, hoping that the material was enough to prevent him from breathing in any of it. There were a lot of rumours and theories circulating when it came to the Strix, but not much in the way of concrete answers. What they looked like, what they were made from, how they behaved, was all speculation at best within the official records of The Cosmic Alliance. Isilynor had no idea whether breathing in any of the stuff was dangerous, but he didn’t want to take any chances on the matter if he could help it.

Experimentally, he rolled his shoulder, and winced as it pinched and pulled uncomfortably at the remnants of muscles within that were still attached to some of the wires that had been pulled at. His head twitched towards the robotic limb, a lacklustre trill escaping him as he reached across with his flesh arm and prodded a few times at the prosthetic. From his shoulder down to his elbow, he seemed to still be able to flex and then relax the limb as usual. Some movement remained in his wrist and hand, but it was now cumbersome and resistant to any attempt to do anything more dexterous than simply wriggling two of its clawed digits. When Isilynor tried to will it into a fist it abruptly sparked in response, prompting another grumbled string of sylphian profanities as he then proceeded to inspect the wiring further up.

In the meantime Rowan had cautiously edged closer to where the shapeshifter had stood moments before, hopping over Virgil’s form in the process. All that remained, aside from a thick layer of dust and the torn rags of the captain’s uniform, was the glowing core still encased in its bubble that had since fallen to the floor and rolled away a few paces. “Did…did we just capture a Strix…?” Gasped Rowan.

“Impossible,” Huffed Isilynor, torn between taking the opportunity to leave out of self preservation and the undeniable curiosity of what now lay before them all. “They’re supposed to be far craftier than that.”

“Maybe it ain’t a Strix, then?” Offered Rowan as a retort. She motioned for Aezsaa’s attention, before gesturing to the cane. “Hey, can you give these clothes a prod for us? See if anything else’s in them?”

“No-one touch anything.” Rumbled the low baritone of Kharzon, his heavy hoofsteps now making a slow, but dedicated pace towards the blue orb until one came to rest upon it to prevent it from rolling away any further. His brow was furrowed, a heavy grimace etched onto his face as he then bent down to scoop up said orb into his grasp. “Security team, lock down the ship.” He then announced into a device fitted to his arm, words laced with a bellow of ire. “No-one moves from their location or leaves this ship without permission until we confirm their identity.”

Kharzon then gestured towards the rest of the cafeteria with his free hand, the other clutching tightly around the containment orb. “Rest of you, either start picking up tables or start drafting a damn good speech proving you are who you say you are in your heads." A momentary pause, followed by a snort of derision. "Unless you need a doctor, in which-case, just focus on trying not to die until I can get one of ‘em over here.”

 
Raks Aks-Hak
Health: Healthy
State: Anxious
Location: Cargo Area B

Raks Aks-Hak walked up to the Cargo Area B door with the Gunnarson wrench by his side, with Zikvien and another security officer behind him. He put his hand on the door’s security scanner. The scanner chirped and the door slid open. The light flickered in the cargo hold. Raks Aks-Hak took out a pen from his pocket and a plume of light shot out from it.

“That light worked before,” Raks Aks-Hak said. He stepped inside and held his wrench up at the ready.

The cargo holds of the ship were hyper-containerized. Standardized small storage cubes would slide on rails overhead, and be guided into racks for each access. Large or bulk storage was the only kind people touched anymore. A faint crunching came from the bulk storage section of the cargo hold. Raks Aks-Hak pointed towards the noise with his flashlight.

“We’ll handle this, Chief Raxax,” the second security officer said. The two security officers moved ahead of Raks Aks-Hak with their weapons held up.

They all came about a small ferrying shuttle wreck which the ship had come across on a prior journey. It was slowly being picked apart by engineers. However, it was large enough to conceal whatever was crunching behind it. The trio stopped and gathered together.

“Three, two, one, push,” the second security officer said. The trio then went around the corner.

The trio had their lights aimed high. There was nothing. They lowered their lights to a small shape on the floor.

slow loris.jpg
A slow loris sat on the floor, with a lettuce leaf in its hands. It looked up in confusion at the lights. It held up a hand to protect its bulging eyes and turned away. The security officers let out a sigh of relief, while Raks Aks-Hak hit the shuttle wreckage in frustration.

“Base this is 110,” the second security officer said. “Cargo Hold B is clear, no sign of hostile contacts in the area. BREAK. Can you pull up the pet registry and figure out who owns a slow loris? We have one here eating lettuce.”

“Base to 110 standby.”

Raks Aks-Hak slapped the side of the shuttle wreckage with his Gunnarson wrench and began walking away. “Thank you both for the assistance,” Raks Aks-Hak said through tight lips. “I will notify my staff of the supply disruption.”

Food safety aboard the ship was top priority. One piece of eaten lettuce renders an entire crate contaminated. However, one crate could contain a couple pounds of lettuce. For Raks Aks-Hak, the major headache would have to be handled immediately.
 
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Fantôme Mörkö
Relieved. Mess Hall.
A strix was a wily foe, hard to handle for even the most trained Drerrari warrior, and Fantôme knew it. As the Strix was twisting around, writhing as it wrapped around her knife, a smirk would come from her, as she moved ever so slightly to parry the hoof strike with her leg, shifting her knee towards the attack, taking the blow closer to her thigh than her knee itself, thus, keeping her leverage. The feeling of pain on her lower leg did nothing but annoy the Drerrari, and feed into the instinct she had, the will to fight, though she seldom showed it, at the end of the day, Fantôme knew it, she was a warrior. Placing a second hand on the handle of her knife, she'd bring the blade harshly against the smaller tendrils, while they wished to delicately touch the blade, Fantôme would feel her blade rip through them, casting them aside in puffs of smoke as she regained her footing, seeming to shake off the pain at her knee.

In the meantime, she could hear the voice of Isilynor, all the while she began working through the now mess of the fight in a matter of moments, her eyes flicked between both her companions alongside the Strix, though noticing Virgil's attack, Fantôme would dart in, slashing at the many tendrils at their base, her thought was easy, if it has a limited measure of defence, it is easier to subdue. Though soon enough, another combatant entered the fray, the Chief of Security, Kharzon had come, containing the threat even further, if not fully neutralizing it with relative ease. Watching the dust settle a moment, Fantôme would turn to Virgil, sheathing her blade as she offered a hand, "You alright?" She'd ask, her voice feeling almost quiet to her... A sign of the rush she had felt for a moment.

Taking another breath, her eyes would lock to the now detained strix, this was a first for her. Not once had she known they were possible to catch, most of the time it was like catching smoke. Hearing the voice of Kharzon, she'd look back to the much larger Mijoran, whom mentioned the confirmation of identity, holding her hand aside a moment, to call his attention, Fantôme would speak plainly, "My Neural link to my other body is undisturbed." As her words hung in the air, she'd shiver a moment, feeling Lyrae move up her back, shattering all air of coolness she had as the winged snake poked from the collar of her coat, before gazing at it's owner, whose eyes softened a moment she looked to the small snake. While she waited for an answer, Fantôme would take a small breath as she began flipping tables and chairs back over with relative ease, quietly hoping that she wouldn't miss her concert....
 

Aenwyn Dor Korr'tek and Virgil Cerullo​

Status -- Alive - Virgil/Dazed​

Location -- Food Court​

Others -- Isilynor, Rowan, Aeszaa, Fantôme


"Aw, fuck." Aenwyn huffs as Kharzon enters the scene and, with minimal effort, manages to capture the Strix in a force field. "Guess that takes care of that for now. mm." She then gives Isilynor a side-eye as she skulks in that direction. "Call me a godsdamned imbecile again. I'll make sure that beak of yours is shut." Her eyes flash in annoyance, and her koshka tail lashes in the manner her other half would. She makes her way towards Kharzon, tail continuing to lash around in anger. "On it, Kharzon. Should I call the medical team for Virgil?" Her eyes then flit down to look at the orb . "Bloody hells. Had I known it would be that simple, I'd carry one of those bloody things more often."

Virgil, on the other hand, is not sure what exactly happened to him. It felt like his head was going to explode, that there was something in it that shouldn't have been. He looks around, blinking as he sits up. "What the fu...." he murmurs. Fantôme had offered her hand to him, and he takes a minute to see if he can physically stand. "Um...." He decides he should be able to get up without falling right back down. "Think I'm okay...... felt really, really weird." He hums, then taking her hand and lifting himself up. "Ooof- bit nauseous though. What the hell just happened to me?"

"The bloody Strix took you over- or, tried. You have Kharzon to thank for it being removed." Aenwyn huffs. "You gonna be alright to help lock down? Or do you reckon you need a doc?"

".....I might need a doctor, Second. I don't feel good."

"Mm, Kharzon I'll call the medics. I can take care of that. In the meantime, do what he said and start figuring out how to confirm your identity. Sit down, please. Fuck's sake, this is the last thing any of us needed today." She skulks towards some tables, and while she's casually flipping a couple of tables back into place, she pages the infirmary. "Medical, I need a doctor in the food court. ASAP, please. We've got a man down- I will have someone escort you there."

Virgil takes a seat, gently cradling his head. "Gesù Cristo, my head hurts."

"Copy that," comes a familiar voice from the other end.

Oh thank fuck, Aenwyn thinks to herself. At least I know he'll get care from someone competent.

Saphielle Ianpeiros​

Status -- Alive​

Location -- Infirmary​

Others -- [TBD]​


Saphielle had quite the day today, and not in a good way. She had been stuck in the back, sorting through the inventory which had been heinously disorganized. Well- according to her standards. Last week she showed the interns the back room, but they said it hadn't been nearly as bad as she said. Still, organizing it was something to keep herself busy today. No patients. No incidents. Saphielle, Dr. Saphielle Ianpeiros, M.D., was not having an eventful day. She had been, for lack of any better term, bored out of her wits. So when she heard Aenwyn's voice over the communicator, she was beyond thrilled.

She takes her communicator and responds. "Copy that." Looking at the slightly-more-organized shelves of stock, Saphielle hums. Perhaps I can take a break from all of this, it'll take more than a day to get everything to my liking. Aenwyn had mentioned getting an escort for her, and upon checking her notifications she noticed there was a Strix on board. Her eyes widen in response. "Hells...." She sends out a message to a signal labeled "Future wife <3"

Did you get that transmission? Are you okay?

Upon sending the message, Saphielle frets and messages her babysitter.

Is Finn alright? Checking in.

The last thing she wanted was for that Strix to get close to her son. Even the strongest in security would face her wrath if that were to happen, after all. She takes a seat in the infirmary's waiting area after grabbing her doctor-to-go cart. "Gods' sake...." She mutters to herself as she waits.
 




QHR2hNI.png
Isilynor
Status --- Irrate, Minor Injury
Location --- Observer, Food Court
Others --- Multiple crew members






At the unexpected address from Aenwyn, Isilynor briefly adopted a pose that, quite literally, ruffled his feathers in response. Briefly the tufts at the side of his head flicked back and forth, a sign of irritation in sylphiel, before he tutted in her direction. “Very well. Next time a Strix is about to disembowel a fellow member of your team, I will be sure to keep my beak closed about it.”

Meanwhile, the tension in the room seemed to ease alongside of Kharzon, who greeted Aenwyn with a solemn nod of his head as she approached him. “This is an experimental containment device.” Informed Kharzon with a grunt, as he hoisted the translucent orb up high to inspect it in closer detail. “You’ll find that won’t currently work with the ones we’ve given you.” A heavy brow then furrowed. Kharzon looked troubled by whatever he saw within the forcefield, though he made no effort to further voice his concerns. Instead he exhaled in a weary sort of manner, holding the orb aloft with one hand now while the other started to motion and direct members of the team around the confines of the cafeteria.

Once seemingly satisfied with the task he’d assigned the remaining crowd, he then turned back to Aenwyn to continue the conversation. “Yes. Call whichever doctor is available. Wake up the pteratrix if you have to.”

Kharzon seemed largely unconcerned with Virgil, beyond a quick glance to check that someone was attending to him before continuing to direct the crew that was now starting to filter back into the area. Rowan meanwhile had taken the time to hover beside him after Tome helped pull him to his feet, poking him in the shoulder a few times to grab his attention. "Gesù Cristo?” They parroted, in a bemused tone of voice. “Isn’t there some ancient Earth rule against saying that?”

Isilynor, after some badgering from both Kharzon and another member of security, begrudgingly began to pull up chairs and push aside tables with their still-functioning arm. A few of the crew had, whether intentional or otherwise, ended up huddled behind pieces of furniture for protection instead of bolting for the exit when it was still available. It didn’t take long for Isilynor to find one such member hidden behind a series of tables cluttered together and surrounded by the smashed remains of the decorative, potted plants that had been set up beside them. With a sharp exhale through their nostrils, Isilynor strutted forward and positioned themself to maneuver the tables out of the way with a hefty kick as they attempted to address the unknown crew member.

“Are you injured-”

Cut off by their own squawk, Isilynor scurried back from the failed kick as he was met with what could only be described as an awful, yowling hiss and a clawed hand that briefly swiped at him through a gap in the table. “Oi! Watch it!” Snapped the sylphiel in a rather uncharacteristically low, growling tone of voice, far more reminiscent of the attitude of a pissed off mjiorian than their usual soft timbre. The lecture seemed to startle the other crew member in turn, who quickly snatched back their hand and mumbled something incoherent back at them.

Eventually, to the surprise of Isilynor, what looked to be a koshka with a thick head of dark curls peppered with grey and wide eyes behind thick-rimmed glasses meekly started to peer over the top of the upturned table.

“And what was that for?!” They huffed, hand now resting on their hip.

“Sorry, dear,” Mumbled the koshka, pointed ears flattening momentarily against his head alongside of the apology. “B-but you rather startled us.”

“Us?”

A second set of pointed ears and eyes, far smaller than the bespectacled koshka, also peeped over the edge of the table. Isilynor’s irate tone softened, ever so slightly, as he registered that there was now a small, impressionable koshka kit with red hair and wide, golden eyes gawking up at him too. “Are either of you injured?” Isilynor repeated, moving to pull the tables away from the pair as he inquired. It revealed a trembling koshka in a purple sweater behind them, curled up against the wall where he had, presumably, been cradling the small kit close to him in an attempt to shield them from the commotion happening around them. Doctor Garrett Strulvat, Isilynor knew him to be, though the two rarely interacted.

“We’re fne…I-I think…” Mumbled Garrett, his form still shivering despite the attempt to unravel from the protective hold. Attention diverted towards the toddler in his arms, who mercifully mostly just looked bewildered by events. It was then that a series of beeps sounded from Garrett’s pocket, who flinched in response, but then hurriedly fished out a small comms device from it.

Isilynor hummed in response and shifted their attention elsewhere, surveying the rest of the cafeteria. From what they could tell it looked like Kharzon was now taking his leave, escorting the orb to places unknown. The last thing Isilynor heard from the man was an order for the crowd that had scattered from the area to now be escorted back into the food court, presumably so that the crew was able to start their identity checks and account for everyone.

“Could you reply, please…?” Garrett then ventured, gesturing to a comms device he now held out towards Isilynor. Evidence of trying to type out a message towards a fellow crew member by the name of Dr. Saphielle Ianpeiros was apparent. The letters however were jumbled in a manner that suggested that, between his poor eyesight and trembling hands, Garrett was struggling to articulate his reply. Isilynor arched an eyebrow high as they were presented with the device, judgement apparent. But after a moment of glaring down at the shivering man, he eventually rolled his head in an exasperated manner and grabbed the comms device out of Garrett’s hand.

Your son is fine.

Isilynor wrote out after a quick skim of the conversation, his usual speed and attention to grammar unaffected by the fact he currently only had one functioning hand with which to type his message. A brief pause followed, head twitching aside to observe Garrett for a moment, before he decided to add to the message.

Your babysitter, meanwhile, appears to be in some state of shock. Consciousness may be temporarily lost. Prepare your approaching medical officer adequately.

They then tossed the device back towards Garrett, who let it fall to the floor with a disruptive clatter before sheepishly and shakily retrieving it and pocketing it once more. The bespectacled man then closed his eyes and leaned back a little, letting his head thump against the back of the wall as he seemingly took a moment to take a deep series of slow, rasped breaths to compose himself now that the immediate sense of danger was absent.






Ue4yFdL.png
Zikvien
Status --- Cautious, Healthy
Location --- Cargo Area B
Others --- Raks Aks-Hak, Security Team






Zikvien had only experienced an attack by the Strix once before in her life, back when she had only just commenced her training with the Cosmic Alliance forces. It had only been one at the time. Or, at least, only one had ever made itself known. The Strix had taken the guise of a kindly old shop owner for, presumably, at least several weeks given the last time she had been off-ship. According to reports, she had been caught trying to sneak her way into the captains room, and revealed her true nature once cornered and questioned by the witnesses on the matter.

The zita-gaxx remembered the Strix’ transformations being of a rapid, fluid nature, which had terrified her at the time. In the brief moments she had been expected to defend the training headquarters she had witnessed the creature take upon a dozen different forms. It had slithered across the ground to avoid the grasp of others as a serpent, morphed to an enormous Rhikzari bull to trample its foes, and then, when it had apparently decided it was done toying with them all, finally morphed into a great, winged beast that dispersed itself into the surrounding fog of the sky.

She didn’t claim to know much about the Strix, that was for sure. But Zikvien knew one fact about them, and that was that they were not easy to kill. Zikvien wasn’t even sure if it was possible.

Hovering over the twisted remains of a former-mjiorian, it was this thought that kept Zikvien’s senses trained on them for several breaths. Something wasn’t right. Though her eyes were glazed her hearing was sharp as ever, and she caught no hint of respiration nor movement from them. Still her giant, 8 ft tall form lingered on the sight, only finally breaking her concentration from it when summoned by Raks Aks-Hak to investigate the nearby storage room. “Two watch for trouble, one come with me.” Zikvien commanded in a low baritone, hearing a trio of voices confirm the order before finally making her way towards the cargo area.

The lack of light went unacknowledged by Zikvien at first, given that her vision was always a little dim and murky even in the best of conditions. It was only when the amphibious alien in front of her commented on it did she lift her head to briefly inspect the lights above them, humming in thought. Unimportant for now. She quickly concluded, though she made a mental note to call over one of the ship’s mechanics once the coast had been cleared. The atmosphere tensed as the trio sensed movement up ahead, and instinctively Zikivien lumbered ahead of the pair as they made their way around the corner. Zita-gaxx were incredibly resistant to a variety of common weapons, after all. The chances of her being able to tank a few blows by one were far higher than that of Raks Aks-Hak or the human accompanying them.

Thankfully, all that greeted them upon turning the corner was a small, wide-eyed creature that her companion deemed ‘a slow loris’ upon closer inspection. Perplexed, and slightly amused, Zikvien observed the now-disgruntled little mammal for a few breaths as Raks Aks-Hak grumbled his way through his thanks. A performative sort of shrug followed, Zikvien having of picked up the habit from the many humans she had done her security training alongside of as a means to try to look unbothered. “No matter,” She began, hoping to reassure Raks Aks-Hak over the unnecessary summons to the supply room. “It was wise to have informed us, given the circumstances.”

It was then that Zikvien doubled back around to the hallway, where a small selection of people had begun to gather and crouch in a semi-circle around the supposed remains of the Strix. Two of the shapes eased away as she approached, their scents familiar as fellow members of the security team. The third member clutched onto what she recognised as a med kit, presumably one that had been retrieved from its designated spot nestled amongst the wall panels of the ship from somewhere nearby. Zikvien’s head lowered and swivelled to the side, her towering form scanning the space before them for more clues. “What happened?” She eventually rumbled.

“Bernie over there said they just started screaming out of nowhere.” Informed the still-crouching man, who seemed more interested in poking and prodding at a large wound on the mjiorian’s right shoulder than any attempt to use the med kit for its intended purposes.

“Was like smoke, from gills and lungs.” Informed a new voice to the side, curtesy of the tall, crimson-scaled mjiorian that had been nicknamed ‘Bernie’ by the self-appointed medic. Zikvien knew him only by the more formal title of Bernando Dor Xorakk, as the two had so far rarely conversed outside of their working hours. Nonetheless, she could still pick up on the slight tremble that had woven itself into his voice as he tried, presumably, to downplay the sense of shock he was currently feeling. “Everywhere, the smoke was going. Then there was ah…changes. To face and body." The mjiorian continued, struggling to get his more articulate thoughts across with the limited knowledge of omni-speak at his disposal.

Zikvien rumbled in understanding all the same. “Did you know their name?” She wondered.

“Hundir Gul’dor.” Announced Bernando, a mournful tone to his voice as he lumbered closer to the pair. “Hundir is a good mjiorian.” Slightly, his shoulders slouched as he continued to stare down at the motionless form of Hundir before them. “…Was.”

A low, mournful rumble issued automatically from Zikvien in response. She barely knew the unfortunate crewmate, but she could still sympathise with the thoughts that were obviously running through Bernando’s mind on the matter right now. No one was quite sure what happened to people who had been found to be Strix, after all. Debates were frequent between two popular theories, with some claiming that the Strix had some way of mutating or possessing the body of a chosen victim while others insisted that they had instead been replaced with a doppelganger. Zikvien found that, at the end of the day, she didn’t really care much about the exact details behind how it was done. Only that, as was the case with all victims of the Strix, that person would now be considered either missing in action or deceased. Neither of which was a particularly pleasant thought for the zita-gaxx.

“The Strix I am familiar with was…not so easily dealt with.” She announced, brow furrowing.

“No…something does feel…different about this one…” Hummed the medic, before glancing up in the direction of Raks Ak-Hak and beckoning him over for conversation. “Unless you’re about to tell us that the Nhag Mos Khos-Gab have been keeping technology capable of killing a Strix from the rest of us all this time?”

Zikvien meanwhile leaned further down, the nostrils flaring on her snout as she took in the scent of the corpse. “…Still smells like mjiorian.” She declared, frowning. “I remember the Strix smelling different after transforming.” What this meant, however, she had little clue.

Eventually the zita-gaxx gave a heavy sigh, and after hearing the message from Kharzon, emitted a low bellow for the attention of the area. “We should move to the food court for identification.” She announced, before gesturing in its direction with a roll of her head. “Two transport Hundiir Gul’dor to infirmary. The rest, with me.”






G1pXxHK.png
Bernando
Status --- Mournful, Healthy
Location --- Cargo Area B > Infirmary
Others --- Saphielle






With the laceration the Strix had managed to make to Bernando’s arm and cheek, it seemed to the mjiorian that he was the obvious choice for transporting poor Hundir to the infirmary. As was expected of any mjiorian, he did his best to force on a stoic expression as he hoisted his former friend up onto his shoulder with the assistance of the human medic that had been inspecting him earlier.

“You gonna be alright dude?” Wondered the medic. Bernando made a half-hearted hum of acknowledgement, but said little else as he started to lumber his way towards the infirmary. Mourning, as many mjiorians would say, was something to be done away from unfamiliar, prying eyes after all.

When he reached the infirmary the interns were quick to take the fellow mjiorian from his grasp and hurry them away out of sight. To where, he wasn’t certain, but he suspected it would be less painful for him if he didn’t dwell too much on the matter until he’d returned to his quarters for the night. Instead, he was escorted to a corner of the room where another intern took a moment to inspect his injuries. Thankfully, due to his mjiorian nature, the wounds appeared to be superficial at worst. It wasn’t long before he found some gauze taped around his arm and to the cheek of his face, and then the intern was motioning for him to get back to his duties. Bernando, obliging, shifted his attention to the comms device that he had fitted around his wrist. Sure enough, there was an exchange to view between Kharzon and several other crew members, followed by new orders for Bernando once he was patched up.

That in mind, Bernando walked forward and gestured for the attention of Doctor Saphielle. “Bernando has orders to take Doctor Saphielle to the food court.” He explained, before gesturing towards the infirmary exit. “Would Doctor Saphielle like Bernando to take anything?”

 
Aezsaa
She watched as the tendril turned gaseous, breaking apart and pulling away as she rose fully. Teeth bared as Aeszaa snarled at the Strix, ear perking when Isilynor shouted. Their gaze flickered over to the crewmembers presently harassing the enemy in close proximity. Just in time for them to recognize a thicker tendril lashing out at them. It hit the Draxiek solidly in the torso, shoving them backwards. Aezsaa growled as she quickly wrapped her arm around the tendril, claws puncturing flesh in a tight grip. Legs stiffening and talons gouging into the floor with a horrendous screech, they braced against the Strix's attack, managing to keep upright and prevent momentum from launching them even further.

The Draxiek powered their wings for counterbalance as the Strix's tendril abruptly yielded, Kharzon making his presence loudly known with the thundering crack of his containment equipment. In the same moment, Aezsaa shielded their face with their arm against the wave of dust that ensued from the Strix's collapse. After another moment, they gently waved the air clear before them then strode forward to collect their dropped cane. "Impressive...." It was the only thing Aezsaa could think to contribute to the suddenly de-escalated situation.

At the sound of her name, Aezsaa's wings perked slightly before flexing and stretching when she realized it was Rowan who had called her over. Humming, the Draxiek nodded faintly and started to step towards the aforementioned tatters of clothing. Until Kharzon sharply ordered her (and everyone else) not to do just that. Promptly rebuked, Aezsaa hunched her shoulders up as a sheepish grin began to twitch at her stony maw. "Yes, sir," they murmured in acknowledgement.

The crewmembers were disbursing in sporadic phases, a handful taking time to bring some semblance of order back to the food court while others began to gather in whispering groups. Security personnel eventually began filing through the food court, assisting in the organization of crew for evaluation or inspecting the area for any potential further breaches. A little unsure, Aezsaa gradually shuffled towards a toppled table, quickly realizing it was broken into pieces. Bringing her cane close to the band on her shoulder prompted a trilling tone from the device. It only took a moment for the magnetic components to engage and for the cane to come to rest behind her shoulder, allowing her the free hand to grasp one of the table pieces. With relative ease--and plenty of unpleasant scrapping--they dragged the table scrap towards a growing pile of debris near the far wall of the food court.

They were in the process of clearing the third and final piece of a second table when their gaze found Fantôme. Adding the last piece to the debris pile for disposal, Aezsaa lingered a moment to lean upon her cane, waiting for her breathing to ease. Once feeling more sure-footed, they shuffled towards the Drerrari, wings and tail shriveling out of sight as they morphed back into their Living Form. "Have you encountered a Strix before? Where did you learn to fight like that?" they asked, gaze drifting towards the winged reptile clinging to Fantôme's shoulder. "And... who is your companion?" Aezsaa gave the creature a slight smile before their gaze returned to the Drerrari before them.
 

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