Posted By: Jason of BorgWe are the Borg. Lower your shields and surrender your ships. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service us. Resistance is futile.
Servant: Viga Anax, someone wishes to see you. Me: I am busy keeping tabs on my revenge! What do you want? Who is it! Servant: A man who is claiming to challenge you? Me: Is it the Praetor? Servant: No, a hobo man. But we shooed him away. Me: Don't come to me with every little thing. Unless it's an attempt on my life don't interrupt me!
*I look out the window and see the flagship the Spirit of Tizzle Whatzit.*
Me: The professor is coming. Now my plan is coming together.
We are the Borg. Lower your shields and surrender your ships. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service us. Resistance is futile.
I gladly would've surrendered and overthrown you, had you not materialized in front of my nukes. PINCER ATTACK!
OOC: Weren't nukes explicitly banned from this fight?
Enter Me, Higgins Higgins (civil): Sir, we're approaching Boston. Me (shouting): Batten down the hatches! Ready the cannons! Marines! Invasion formation! Higgins (civil): Sir, nobody can hear you... we're still in your quarters. Me (not missing a beat): Right then, I'll take my tea in that case. Higgins (civil): Would you like me to relay your orders to the men? Me (distracted): What? Oh, yes, of course(pause). Do we have any of those nice almond cookies left..? Higgins (civil): Yes, of course, sir. Me (shouting): Well then get going, sailor! Exit Higgins Me (aside): Where the hell is my monocle? Exeunt
The early morning sun rises over the black forest, and there is the quiet violin-squeal of 500 cattle being slaughtered simultaneously. Their blood furiously claws its way up grooves in the granite obelisks, one for each cattle, forming runic symbols and the vague etchings of circuitry and non-euclidean lines, before disappearing completely into the stone. There is a crash of thunder, and the stones turn black. Chief Druid Gotamix hobbles toward the pile of raw material in the center, his body nearly ruined from 200 years of forced life. His ceremonial armor squeals, attempting to predict and build a reasonable gait for his slow walk down the ivory steps toward the giant iron Crucible in the center. He reaches the Crucible. His armor breathes a pressurized-steam sigh of relief, and he collapses against the edge of the bowl.
There is the quiver of arcane shields charging in the distance. My capital ship's lights dim as it attempts to boost its own power to compensate for what will come next. Gotamix's voice crackles over our radios:
"This project is the culmination of 200 years of my wretched life in flesh. 200 years to give birth to thousands more in service of the empire. Hail the Chieftain!" The booming reply issues over the radio: "HAIL!" His armor turns white hot below us. The figure stands tall momentarily, its steel face transfixed in a silent scream, before collapsing into a puddle of crimson at the base of the Crucible.
Slowly, the puddle climbs through an infinitely fine maze of runes, circuits, diagrams. Finally, it reaches the materials in the center. The obelisks fall like dominoes. There is a crash of thunder, and a wail upon the wind. Trees explode, and the site goes blank in a firestorm of frenzied arcane energy.
Posted By: Jason of BorgWe are the Borg. Lower your shields and surrender your ships. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service us. Resistance is futile.
OOC: What the fuck?
I see you aren't familiar with Star Trek.
OOC: I know about the borg. I just think that bringing the borg in is like dropping a nuke on a medieval civilization.
There are no eras, as each land exists on it's own in the Endlessness. So whatever technology is present in each world is it's own. The current year in Gortch is 1 SCG (Since Creation of Gortch).
Here are the current continents and lands that have been documented so far
The Continent of Yazbel The Empire of Hadrian The Empire of Cnaiur
The Continent of Europe Neo-Greece The Roman Republic Steampunk-land
The Continent of Albion England/Brittania The Democratic Free Republic of East Buckinghamshire
The Continent of Prydain (as referenced in The Chronicles of Prydain) Prydain lands
The Praetor's Log, Day 3: Yesterday was almost completely uneventful, which is why I chose not to record a log. My fears of the security breach are almost completely quelled. Yet, I shall remain here for quite a while longer, it seems. My guards remain stationed throughout my villa. It is a small, quaint villa, the size of an average household. Perfectly designed to be indistinguishable from any other house within thirty miles of here. Not only does no one know where it is, but in order to find it, they'd have to storm through every house on the whole peninsula. With my intelligence operatives, I will know when the enemy draws near, and we have enough hidden exits that by the time they arrive, I will be gone, with no trace of my stay. They could chase me for years and never find me. If Greece wants to hunt me, let them hunt. But Rome is a prey for no one.
It'll keep going. I'm trying to keep it as coherent as possible so it can be enjoyed outside of this thread, so it practically is a series.
I am going to make this into a Wave when Google Wave rolls around two weeks from now. At some point give it a credit about who came up with the concept and where it came from.
Servant: Dinner is ready down below and the professor awaits. Me: ARRGH! I received propaganda calling me a coward! Just because I didn't want to deal with some deryl! I want you to send a strike on the trash island now. No one messes with Viga Victoria Anax! Servant: Yes, Anax. *sigh* Me: Don't SIGH me, peon!
20:32 hours, aboard a mobile base of operations. The young specialist looked up at his commanding officer, who had just come through the door, finishing what looked very similar to an Arron Sorkin style walk and talk meeting.
"Specialist Kaznov, what's the situation?" He inquired, his tone casual, but his question anything but.
"Well, Sir, We're currently yellow for all of the Praetor's court but for two, however, we will be yellow on those before 0600 hours tomorrow." "Very good, Kaznov, as for the Praetor himself, have we ascertained his location yet?" "No, sir. We had him en-route, however, he dropped out of sight of our Arial watch for approximately 9 minutes, at which point a number of decoys departed from the same location. We only discovered after ground agents ran down all of the decoys that every decoy was just that, a decoy, when in fact he'd departed the location approximately fifteen minutes after the Decoys. All that was left at the location were ashes of the garments he was wearing during the transport, and evidence he had taken another mode of transport from the location." "Shit. Any word on the streets, rumors, disgruntled ex-employees, anything?" "Not a whisper, sir." Churba pinched the bridge of his nose while he thought, the deep shadows under his eyes becoming more pronounced as the slight shadows from the overhead lighting shifted on his face. "Sir?" "Stow it, Kaz, I'm thinking." "Yes sir. Are you sure that it wouldn't be best if you retired to your quarters? We haven't seen you sleeping anything more than an hour at a time for a good three days, pacing the halls so much there's almost groves where you've walked over the same carpet so many times, some of the medical staff are worried about how taxing the stress you're putting yourself under on this is." "What was that, Specialist Kazov?" He didn't look up, but his tone grew severe for a moment. "Ah, Well, err, sir, the, ah, medical staff were worried that the past few days have been very taxing for you, you've been pacing the halls so much you're leaving grooves in the carpet, and-" The commander's head snapped up, his eyes lit up with the thrill of the chase. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking, B1?" "Pardon me, sir?" "Carpet-walking motherfuckers." The young specialist looked baffled. "Sir, I still don't-" "Kazov, I know you're not a field operative, and thus, you've not done any training with tracking across land - it's an old dope smuggler's trick. Drugs coming out of Mexico, they'd sometimes move it on foot across the desert, but the footprints were as obvious as herpes sores on a cheap hooker, and it made them easy to track, so they'd tie carpet or lino squares over their feet, to scuff up the sand, distribute their weight, and leave no footprints. The only problem was that it didn't just work, it worked too well - the Shadow Wolves were able to track them by what wasn't there, flat patches with a slight scuff pattern to them, or just blank spots on the sand." "Sir, I'm still not quite following?" "No matter how good Their security is, this is still a government. Governments equal paperwork. Paperwork equals a paper trail." "But we checked-" "You checked in the wrong place. You don't want to be looking for direct evidence, you won't find any, it's like trying to find a hole by looking for the dirt in it - what you want to be looking for is the outline of it, the ancillary stuff that doesn't mean anything individually, but when it's all together, you get a pretty little silhouette of what you're looking for. Like throwing chalk dust at something invisible, as they do in bad movies - it doesn't make it visible, but you can see the stuff on the outline, and it shows you what you're looking for." "I see what you mean, sir, but I still don't understand how that will work." "Easy. Look at records not related to what you're looking for. Tax Records, Budgets, contractors, Employee files, payrolls, everything you can possibly find, and when it's all put together, a pattern will emerge. We'll find that fucker by following his own trail of "Nothing to see here" signposts." "Yes, Sir!" "Good lad, good lad. Now, On the bounce, soldier, and I'm going to go to my quarters and get some rack time. Like you said, the medical staff are getting concerned, and I'd rather not put them under any more stress. Something tells me that business will be booming, very, very soon, and as I think we drilled into every person under my command - Rest is a weapon." He Squirted a code from his Comm to the Comm the specialist wore on his belt, the devices shaking hands and exchanging information in less time than it took the commander to form the thought to do so, let alone raise his comm and point it at the other. "That's my personal comm-code. If you find anything of note, or anything happens, wake me immediately no matter the time. You're lead on this, Kaznov. Good hunting." "Thank you, sir!" As the commander left the room, the young specialist leapt into his work.
And hour has past since the Spirit of Tizzle Whatzit has made it's arrival at the capital of Neo Greece. Tima II fidgets with her dress. Standing in front of a full mirror. She practices her curtsy one final time. And heads down below the ship. Professor and Von Bytes stand at the docking bay, arguing with a very irate offical.
Neo Greece Official "This is highly irregular sir. We show nothing in the records of your visit." Von Bytes "I grow very weary of this. Like I've said before my presence was requested by the Queen herself." Neo Greece Official "Absurd if the Queen had invited you a squad of the Neo guard would be here." Von Bytes "We got here a bit early. My ships is quite fast you see." Professor "Sir. It appears the real welcoming party is finally arriving."
A squad of guards dressed in posh regalia march in clockwork precession towards the airship. At the belly of the airship Tima II descends down the lift of the ship. She jumps before the lift has settled towards the ground and in a wink is besides Von Bytes and the Professor.
Professor "Perhaps we should give the Queen a quick demonstration of Tima II's abilities? " Von Bytes "Ha! All in good time Professor." Tima II "Do you think the Queen would be impressed if I recycled those shiny tin cans of hers?" Neo Greece Official "Is that young woman mad? Those are the elite of the elite!" Von Bytes "Oh really?"
Comments
*Meanwhile in Neogreece.
Servant: Viga Anax, someone wishes to see you.
Me: I am busy keeping tabs on my revenge! What do you want? Who is it!
Servant: A man who is claiming to challenge you?
Me: Is it the Praetor?
Servant: No, a hobo man. But we shooed him away.
Me: Don't come to me with every little thing. Unless it's an attempt on my life don't interrupt me!
*I look out the window and see the flagship the Spirit of Tizzle Whatzit.*
Me: The professor is coming. Now my plan is coming together.
Enter Me, Higgins
Higgins (civil): Sir, we're approaching Boston.
Me (shouting): Batten down the hatches! Ready the cannons! Marines! Invasion formation!
Higgins (civil): Sir, nobody can hear you... we're still in your quarters.
Me (not missing a beat): Right then, I'll take my tea in that case.
Higgins (civil): Would you like me to relay your orders to the men?
Me (distracted): What? Oh, yes, of course(pause). Do we have any of those nice almond cookies left..?
Higgins (civil): Yes, of course, sir.
Me (shouting): Well then get going, sailor!
Exit Higgins
Me (aside): Where the hell is my monocle?
Exeunt
There is the quiver of arcane shields charging in the distance. My capital ship's lights dim as it attempts to boost its own power to compensate for what will come next. Gotamix's voice crackles over our radios:
"This project is the culmination of 200 years of my wretched life in flesh. 200 years to give birth to thousands more in service of the empire. Hail the Chieftain!"
The booming reply issues over the radio: "HAIL!"
His armor turns white hot below us. The figure stands tall momentarily, its steel face transfixed in a silent scream, before collapsing into a puddle of crimson at the base of the Crucible.
Slowly, the puddle climbs through an infinitely fine maze of runes, circuits, diagrams. Finally, it reaches the materials in the center. The obelisks fall like dominoes. There is a crash of thunder, and a wail upon the wind. Trees explode, and the site goes blank in a firestorm of frenzied arcane energy.
Here are the current continents and lands that have been documented so far
The Continent of Yazbel
The Empire of Hadrian
The Empire of Cnaiur
The Continent of Europe
Neo-Greece
The Roman Republic
Steampunk-land
The Continent of Albion
England/Brittania
The Democratic Free Republic of East Buckinghamshire
The Continent of Prydain (as referenced in The Chronicles of Prydain)
Prydain lands
The Continent of the Red Fire
America
The Continent of Betelgeuse
The Land of Nueve
Continent of Oz
Land of Oz details
Wars World + Extended
Green Earth
Yellow Comet
Blue Moon
Orange (Red) Star
Black Hole
and the additonal nations
Yesterday was almost completely uneventful, which is why I chose not to record a log. My fears of the security breach are almost completely quelled. Yet, I shall remain here for quite a while longer, it seems. My guards remain stationed throughout my villa. It is a small, quaint villa, the size of an average household. Perfectly designed to be indistinguishable from any other house within thirty miles of here. Not only does no one know where it is, but in order to find it, they'd have to storm through every house on the whole peninsula. With my intelligence operatives, I will know when the enemy draws near, and we have enough hidden exits that by the time they arrive, I will be gone, with no trace of my stay. They could chase me for years and never find me.
If Greece wants to hunt me, let them hunt. But Rome is a prey for no one.
It's also all on my Flickr now, if that helps.
Servant: Dinner is ready down below and the professor awaits.
Me: ARRGH! I received propaganda calling me a coward! Just because I didn't want to deal with some deryl! I want you to send a strike on the trash island now. No one messes with Viga Victoria Anax!
Servant: Yes, Anax. *sigh*
Me: Don't SIGH me, peon!
The young specialist looked up at his commanding officer, who had just come through the door, finishing what looked very similar to an Arron Sorkin style walk and talk meeting.
"Specialist Kaznov, what's the situation?" He inquired, his tone casual, but his question anything but.
"Well, Sir, We're currently yellow for all of the Praetor's court but for two, however, we will be yellow on those before 0600 hours tomorrow."
"Very good, Kaznov, as for the Praetor himself, have we ascertained his location yet?"
"No, sir. We had him en-route, however, he dropped out of sight of our Arial watch for approximately 9 minutes, at which point a number of decoys departed from the same location. We only discovered after ground agents ran down all of the decoys that every decoy was just that, a decoy, when in fact he'd departed the location approximately fifteen minutes after the Decoys. All that was left at the location were ashes of the garments he was wearing during the transport, and evidence he had taken another mode of transport from the location."
"Shit. Any word on the streets, rumors, disgruntled ex-employees, anything?"
"Not a whisper, sir."
Churba pinched the bridge of his nose while he thought, the deep shadows under his eyes becoming more pronounced as the slight shadows from the overhead lighting shifted on his face.
"Sir?"
"Stow it, Kaz, I'm thinking."
"Yes sir. Are you sure that it wouldn't be best if you retired to your quarters? We haven't seen you sleeping anything more than an hour at a time for a good three days, pacing the halls so much there's almost groves where you've walked over the same carpet so many times, some of the medical staff are worried about how taxing the stress you're putting yourself under on this is."
"What was that, Specialist Kazov?" He didn't look up, but his tone grew severe for a moment.
"Ah, Well, err, sir, the, ah, medical staff were worried that the past few days have been very taxing for you, you've been pacing the halls so much you're leaving grooves in the carpet, and-"
The commander's head snapped up, his eyes lit up with the thrill of the chase.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking, B1?"
"Pardon me, sir?"
"Carpet-walking motherfuckers."
The young specialist looked baffled.
"Sir, I still don't-"
"Kazov, I know you're not a field operative, and thus, you've not done any training with tracking across land - it's an old dope smuggler's trick. Drugs coming out of Mexico, they'd sometimes move it on foot across the desert, but the footprints were as obvious as herpes sores on a cheap hooker, and it made them easy to track, so they'd tie carpet or lino squares over their feet, to scuff up the sand, distribute their weight, and leave no footprints. The only problem was that it didn't just work, it worked too well - the Shadow Wolves were able to track them by what wasn't there, flat patches with a slight scuff pattern to them, or just blank spots on the sand."
"Sir, I'm still not quite following?"
"No matter how good Their security is, this is still a government. Governments equal paperwork. Paperwork equals a paper trail."
"But we checked-"
"You checked in the wrong place. You don't want to be looking for direct evidence, you won't find any, it's like trying to find a hole by looking for the dirt in it - what you want to be looking for is the outline of it, the ancillary stuff that doesn't mean anything individually, but when it's all together, you get a pretty little silhouette of what you're looking for. Like throwing chalk dust at something invisible, as they do in bad movies - it doesn't make it visible, but you can see the stuff on the outline, and it shows you what you're looking for."
"I see what you mean, sir, but I still don't understand how that will work."
"Easy. Look at records not related to what you're looking for. Tax Records, Budgets, contractors, Employee files, payrolls, everything you can possibly find, and when it's all put together, a pattern will emerge. We'll find that fucker by following his own trail of "Nothing to see here" signposts."
"Yes, Sir!"
"Good lad, good lad. Now, On the bounce, soldier, and I'm going to go to my quarters and get some rack time. Like you said, the medical staff are getting concerned, and I'd rather not put them under any more stress. Something tells me that business will be booming, very, very soon, and as I think we drilled into every person under my command - Rest is a weapon."
He Squirted a code from his Comm to the Comm the specialist wore on his belt, the devices shaking hands and exchanging information in less time than it took the commander to form the thought to do so, let alone raise his comm and point it at the other.
"That's my personal comm-code. If you find anything of note, or anything happens, wake me immediately no matter the time. You're lead on this, Kaznov. Good hunting."
"Thank you, sir!"
As the commander left the room, the young specialist leapt into his work.
Neo Greece Official "This is highly irregular sir. We show nothing in the records of your visit."
Von Bytes "I grow very weary of this. Like I've said before my presence was requested by the Queen herself."
Neo Greece Official "Absurd if the Queen had invited you a squad of the Neo guard would be here."
Von Bytes "We got here a bit early. My ships is quite fast you see."
Professor "Sir. It appears the real welcoming party is finally arriving."
A squad of guards dressed in posh regalia march in clockwork precession towards the airship. At the belly of the airship Tima II descends down the lift of the ship. She jumps before the lift has settled towards the ground and in a wink is besides Von Bytes and the Professor.
Professor "Perhaps we should give the Queen a quick demonstration of Tima II's abilities? "
Von Bytes "Ha! All in good time Professor."
Tima II "Do you think the Queen would be impressed if I recycled those shiny tin cans of hers?"
Neo Greece Official "Is that young woman mad? Those are the elite of the elite!"
Von Bytes "Oh really?"