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Post by Aeoneonatrix on Oct 19, 2013 21:24:38 GMT -8
Lingur and Owler each headed off in their respective ships. Lingur inhabited the Vengeance, newly rechristened the Starstreamer after the Mardor had been conquered. Owler was in the freshly built vessel the Heart of Fortitude. Soon after rendezvouing with the Federation of Ezlanei and the United Free People’s Coalition’s ships, Lingur gave his orders. “The fleet be split into two parts, one of 7615 ships and one of 6085 ships. All three of our fleets are to be split along this ratio. I will command the larger force of ships, and Owler the smaller. Fleet Commander Villard shall send half of his crew to assist my fleet, but he himself shall go with Owler. Admiral Aigandad will accompany me.” Lingur lied back in his command chair for a second after he said those words, and took a deep breath. He bowed his head, and prayed silently. “Cleanser, please give us aid, explicit or subtle, to that we might win this battle and defeat the forces of evil, and by doing this advance your will, that the prosperity of all life shall be aided by us, your servants.” He looked back up, and smiled. |
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Post by Angrybirds on Oct 19, 2013 23:05:56 GMT -8
 Morgan Villard burst into Section 874, the PLN Forward's computer core. It was a massive chamber, lined with all sorts of tangled wiring and impressive-looking panels lining the floors and walls. Large towers stood throughout the room, stretching from floor to ceiling. Truly, it was a mess, and Villard didn't like it. On board the first generation PLN ships, there was scarcely a wire to be seen, and they had operated just fine! Why was any of this necessary? Villard asked himself that question every time he came in here and waded through mires of cable just to get to another living being in this jungle. He made his way towards the sound of voices and came upon exactly whom he was looking for: the leader of this damned circus. Tauron Kuyen was bent over an opening at the foot of one of the towers, through which wires spilled like the entrails of a gutted animal. Three other Quaranians, ROUT scientists, were huddled around him. The head of ROUT, the FPC's research, development, and intelligence agency, was a rather attractive Quaranian. Tall, handsome, with short-cropped hair and cool blue eyes, he was dressed in a black military overcoat which flowed beyond his knees, the likes of which had not been seen in popular Quaranian fashion for ages. Villard had not the patience to wait for them to notice him. He coughed, and thereby garnered his attention. "I need a word with you," he said. The other three Quaranians looked to Kuyen questioningly and then departed when he gave them a nod. He then stood, wiped his hands on his overcoat, and waded through the wires to Villard. "What is it, Admiral?" he said, not without a touch of asperity. "Commander Lingur has asked us to split our forces in two. Can we do that?" Kuyen frowned and considered for a moment. "We'd need to create another command AI aboard another ship... I mean, is it possible? Yes. Is it easy? No." Villard had expected as much. If something so simple was so difficult for the computer to do... But he said nothing. "How much time do you need?" "An hour, give or take." Villard sighed. "Do it. And do it quickly." Kuyen nodded his assent and dove back into the maze of computers. Villard could hear him yelling as he turned to towards the exit. "Alright, people! We need to move!" |
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Post by Genesis on Oct 20, 2013 15:11:40 GMT -8
 This day would be a grand one. A day of blood. A day of tragic euphoria. But, more a day to honor his beloved-his empire. Viean Nek grinned madly as his mindset gradually deteriorated into one of war. Nothing, but the war before him would remain. He would toss aside all morality, all sanity, all things left behind him as they were not necessary. His flaws, his meticulous perfections- All were lovingly brought together in the motley that was his persona of war. Dawning his metaphorical mask of perfection, he strode into the bridge of his flagship The Bloodied Rose, his cloak flaring behind him as he regally took his place at the command chair. Extending a hand, he wordlessly brought his grand host, -His personal Mordred-, out of warp space right into the path of the Aeonatrix fleet. An open channel was created, extending into the space that his soon-to-be enemies would occupy. Interlocking his fingers with one another, he brought his lips up in a wicked grin. His stage was set. "And now, we wait for our opponent." He whispered, staring out into the blackness before him. |
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Post by OfficerJackal on Oct 21, 2013 13:37:49 GMT -8
Gorgan Kcrus sits at the helm of his flagship, the Golden Arrow, as his fleet prepares for the battle ahead. He feels a sense of excitement, but uncertainty, as anything can happen during this operation, and one small mistake can jeopardize it all. He taps his fingers against the arm of his captain's chair, thinking out the situation, all of the things that can go wrong and what he needs to do. After a few moments of thinking, he stands up from his chair, and points at a location on the navigations screen. "Alright, let's move." The Golden Arrow and it's fleet soon enter warp, and speed right past Lingur's location, making a bee line towards the Aeoneonatrix Occupation Zone Border. |
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