Solaris Congress

Madness, she thought; surely those that would take death, of themselves, and those they protect, in trade for a false glory could only be such. No Sesarin would grace such a creature with even Memory; yet here stands one who believes he will see pride in tragedy. And to ask that a Sesarin work as Asersin! She was unsure whether to feel offended that she would be asked to defy her Tribe, or to be amused by the clear foolishness of a creature that believes a Sesarin could possibly do the work of the Asersin; were this some manner of child, the answer would be clear, and she would not be inclined to merely strike down this creature where it stood and save the lives it would inevitably sacrifice in its own name. Still, she now knew what this creature was. "We," she gestures vaugely towards the other Sesarin, who are now watching this encounter quite intently, "Are (Sesarin) Warriors. It is the place of the (Asersin) Builders to repair our (Sirvenal) Inheritor. It is neither our ability or purpose; nor would the (Asersin) Builders seek or wish our aid in their tasks for it is their ability and their purpose. When you take to war, do you take a Plow or a Blade?" She pauses for a moment, "But you are not (Sesarin) Warrior. You are (Sevarin) Soldier; without thought and seeking tragedy. You speak of Honor but you would see it betrayed for pride; to see those protected die that you might not be seen truthfully. Our (Sirvenal) Inheritor has failed, the work of the Tribes (Solvarin) Scientists and (Asersin) Builders; if there is shame, it is theirs. But the (Sesarin) Warrior has not failed, for the Tribes Without still live." She again pauses, this time making a point to look away from the Garthan, "I will speak no more to the exile of honor and broken of mind." And with that, she returned to her place among the Sesarin, who promptly return to their injuries and rest, as though the Garthan had simply ceased to exist. The two of them nod simply and await direction.

This was quite the unfortunate turn of events; he had thought things were going too well, it seemed the appropriate time for complications to arise. "The subject of repairs... I am afraid this is not my area of expertise. If you will allow me a moment..." He quickly takes off the device, and calls for Telsir, who, as it turns out, was quite close, as he immediately enters, and places a slab of scorched, warped metal on the ground. A short, seemingly one-sided conversation between the two ensues, not as though any of those present beyond them would have understood it, and Telsir removes his helmet, revealing a black down that well caught the light, and puts on one of the devices Selat had now returned to wearing. Telsir begins to speak, cutting off Selat's attempted introduction, "The hull has suffered approximately 17 significant breaches and an as-yet unknown number of minor breaches. Sections of the substructure will have to be removed due to irreparable material alteration that renders it unworkable by available methods and tools; attachment of replacement substructure will be a stopgap that should be able to withstand limited travel so as to effect more appropriate repairs with appropriate facilities. Most critical components are a complete loss and will have to be reconstructed wholesale. We can do that, but we'll need facilities. We can make those too." With that said, he pauses for second, suddenly remembering to introduce himself, "(Talsir Kir Asersin) Lead Builder Talsir." he says, punctuating it with a gesture towards himself. The creature's explanation was little understood; he spoke as a Solvarin, of things that could not be sensed by any measure but functioned just the same. But she had learned long ago to trust what she could not understand; the silence of the Solvarin broken before her first memory. His latter statements were more to her concern, however; it would have indeed been wise to leave the Sirvenal isolated. Had they wished the Five Tribes ill, they could have merely waited for depressurization to end them and taken the wreck alone. Any response she would have offered, however, died quietly as the second creature spoke. Selvas rose to her full height, easily passing the diminutive creature that had opened the conversation, and coming in to tower above the newcomer. "The (Solvari ul Asersi Irum) failed technology and constructs would not end us while the (Sesarin) Warrior upholds their path, that the Tribes Without be preserved. Do you lack such honor that you would see death for pride? Or are you little apart from fool?"

Technological Disparity in RP is not inherently bad, neither is trying to run a setting that's not built up from scratch. It's a matter of how it's run; if you're running Nuclear Super-Lasers to conquer everything because you're evil and the Dark Lord of Edge decrees it while proclaiming access to super-invincible black hole shields, there's a problem. If you're running Nuclear Super Lasers to protect your holdings in a territory against aggressive action, it's justifiable, and if you're being reasonable, a Modern Nation can just nuke whatever Kill-Sat is in orbit out of the sky. Technological Disparity itself can provide a lot of ground for RP; how these disparate factions interact, diplomatic or military wrangling to acquire more advanced technology, so-on. Now this is honestly just bizarre. Do you mean that you'd be fine with a faction having vastly more advanced Technology than usual, but somehow, only being able to engage in military action using M14s and F/A18s? That would either pigeonhole RP into a very specific, dogmatic type of Civilization, or utterly obliterate any ability for faction to maintain internal consistency. I'm not quite sure what you're trying to achieve here?

Selat was indeed stunned. Not only was this creature now communicating in perfect Saesil, it claimed that the recording device it was using could do the same for him to... whatever it was that their language was. Or, at least, he was fairly certain that is what it was saying, the creature was poorly-descriptive. He quickly snatches up one of the devices, and promptly slams it into his Helmet. After a quick glance to ensure that neither was obviously damaged, he removed the helmet, and placed it on a hook attacked to his pressure-suit, revealing his tawny coat of down feathers. He then proceeds to fumble with the device for several seconds, eventually getting it into a suitably-stable position. "Saes-Rael-Ulam" he quickly rattles off, to which the device responds, "Six-Five-Nine." Utter nonsense, as he suspected, but it certainly did not seem to be damaged by his earlier assault on it. He turns to face the creature that had brought him this discovery, and after a moment's hesitation, responds; "I am (Selat Kir Solvarin) Lead Scientist Selat; I must thank your Brotherhood for your assistance to our (Sirvenal) Inheritor and the Tribes Without." Selvas' invisible death-glare at the creature broke immediately. It could speak beyond the utterances from its like that had previously been heard. Unsure of whether this was indicative of good or ill, she rises cautiously, ensuring that her weapon does not shift out of quick reach. "What are you, creature? And how have you learned to speak as we do?" She says, more as demands than as questions. It is at this point that other Sesarin in the room take notice, watching the honoured Kir and whatever it was that had taken her attention.

So what you're saying is that unless you dedicate all of your time specifically to tracking statistics for the however-many alliances, your playing the game wrong? Yeah, sure, that makes sense. And don't even start about the 'political landscape' when we're in a situation where people start global nuclear wars because they got a bit bored. There's very little politics in Politics and War. And yeah, sure, if your Military is outnumber 1.5 to 1, you should have problems. But when the other guy has literally thousands of tanks and you've only ever fielded a few hundred at a time, and he wipes out the vast majority of your standing force in the initial attacks, there's a problem. You shouldn't have to devote the majority of your economy to the military, and play goddamn perfectly according to a specific city setup, to at least be rolled over slightly less. And yeah, with only having two options, get set back an extreme amount, or get set back an extreme amount and inconvenience the guy who caused the problem, guess which one people are going to want? The problem isn't Fortify, it's War Range. You should not be able to down-declare like you can right now, the people on the defending side have basically no other recourse but to fortify until the end of days.

Can we not? Warfare is tipped quite heavily in favour of the attackers in the case of people who aren't running at full war-preparation at all times. This change would be incredibly hostile to new players, and do absolutely nothing but tip the scales yet more heavily in favour of aggressors with fully-optimized cities and supermassive militaries working the War Range Mechanic for all they can get away with,.

Selat had no idea what the new creature's uttering meant. But, he was certain that it was something profound; poetic, even! Surely, even with the varied creatures he had observed within this vessel, such an event as this, the contact with an entirely new civilization was one of rarity, to be celebrated! He answered the creature's certain cry with one of his own, completely forgetting that sound does not, in fact, travel outside of the pressure suit, and caring little that it would not be understood even were it to be heard; "And so begins the new era." This is punctuated with a sage nod as he continues to carefully observe the screen. Elsewhere on this ship, Selthen takes stock of the situation; reports had begun to shuffle in, the small computer the carried occasionally pinging as yet more of the usually bad news came in. Damage to the Sirvenal is both significant and extensive, most larger sections of the ship breached and depressurized, corridors difficult and dangerous to traverse, damage to the bridge somewhat better than initially suspected. Asarin running low on supplies due to losses from their section. Solvarin distracted, confused, or arguing, but generally helping very little. Sesarin growing increasingly agitated, Veterans especially. The situation could hardly be worse, though, there had at least, yet to be any fatalities. She interrupts Talsen as he strides past, carrying a case of metal fragments undoubtedly removed from one of the wounded. "Talsen! We must be able to do more; we cannot simply await a call." Talsen sighs, "Unless your people are skill in surgeries, there is nothing else to be done with us. The Asersin might have a use for them." She brings up one of the Asersin's reports on the computer, "There is nothing they can do either. We must do something, else this disaster will become tragedy." Talsen glances back to the hall he had just come from, "Then go speak with Selat. He can communicate with these creatures; appeal to them." He continues along his way, as Selthen takes off down the way he had come. In truth, he had no idea whether or not that corridor lead to wherever Selat was, but it certainly got the Iseres out of his way. On the other ship, Selvas was not quite so enthusiastic. She eyed every passing one of the creatures with suspicion, outright hostility in the cases of those staying long enough to stare. Each one was a new breed of the absurd, and she knew well enough that the appearance of hospitality could easily hide a thousand threats. Unfortunately, the Sesarin had neither the advantages of superior numbers or firepower, and the Tribes Without alone outnumber the Sesarin; should there come a betrayal, there is little that could be done to ensure their safety. Once more she was force to do nothing but hope. Still, she remained prepared; weapon bound, but close at hand.

Selat, as the two newcomers conspire, shakes the dictionary vigorously at them, until the various screens begin to display a flurry of incomprehensible symbols, alongside the occasional Saesil symbol, often the non-standard standard symbols used by the Congress for the labeling of supplies and components. After spending a few moments marveling at what could only be some bizarre manner of analysis, which had, somehow, managed to reconstruct an excerpt the Codices of Virelsin, through sheer random selection, he returns to vigorously shaking the dictionary at the Brotherhood technicians, in an attempt to get their attention without the usual Solvarin-waking method of physically hitting them with it. ---- Elsewhere on the ship, Talsen opens a small metal canister, revealing a red-colored solvent into which he places a number of bandages, metal pins, and other such tools of the Arsiren, taking care to briefly submerge his hands in the solvent, before turning back to the Sesarin propped against a wall. "Again, how did the injury occur?" he says, as he cuts away the original bandages, "The wall-" she starts, cutting it off with a sharp draw of breath as Talsen removes the packing of the wound, "It simply collapsed- a flat edge." Talsen hesitates a moment at that, "Thin, then? Did you tear sharply away, or was it a slow removal?" "I tore away." was the Sesarin's quick response. Talsen retrieves a rather large piece of equipment from a nearby crate, pausing again to sterilize his pressure-suit. He quickly unfolds the device, revealing its nature as a simple, portable, tomographic scanner, and takes hasty readings of the wound; and it was just as he suspected, a fragment of metal was lodged in it. Moving the scanner aside, he retrieves one of the tools from the solvent, a wire-thin magnet, to draw out the fragment. He briefly considered acquiring an anesthetic at this point, but the Sesarin would undoubtedly refuse it. Fortunately, they knew better than to jerk away from pain. And, so, he carefully inserted the device into the wound, retracting it seconds later, only to find that only several smaller fragments had been retrieved. The larger portion remained. And so, a more invasive procedure would be required. The Sesarin would now receive anesthetic regardless of her wishes. Unfortunately, this procedure was to be dealt with by another. The Iseris had made themselves useful in the handling of minor injuries, and the other Asirsen would be more than able to deal with minor surgeries. His presence was needed elsewhere; not all had been luck enough to escape with mere fragments lodged safely aside. ---- Telsir walked slowly through the halls of the Sirvenal. It had taken 948 days, just under four years, to build, under his direction, and guidance from the greatest of the Solvarin. The most important part of it had failed its first true usage, the greater insult that he had long-before tested the device time-and-again to ensure such as this could not occur. And for this lone flaw, the ship had been made a ruin. He had made his way to the Sesarin chambers, dodging the occasional bit of jutting or twisted hull, along the way. In this, he was not alone, for he had sent ahead a team to attempt to access the area. Little progress had been made, the damage in this region had been among the worst of it, many corridors entirely untraversable, the one he had come down, only so with extreme difficulty and care. The team had brought a number of tools, most of which now lay piled against a piece of Corridor, in favor of a set of laser cutting devices, which collectively worked at getting no further than the now-discarded plasma cutters, at getting through what had once been a door. "I do not suppose you have made much progress then?" He says to an Asersin watching the cutters run, "We have succeeded in determining that the door takes a very long time to cut through." He went to throw something at the Asersin, but found that he was not, in fact, holding anything. In an attempt to maintain dignity, he quickly redirected the blow towards the Wall, which immediately collapsed, revealing the Sesarin chambers. He turns back to the Asersin, who turn off the various lasers as he tears through more of the foil-thin wall. Once a sizable hole was cleared, he was first to enter; and it became very clear that the Wall had, for the most part, become part of the door. Why that particular section of the ship had been warped so by the Spatial Drive was probably a question for the Solvarin, and given that it had just defied the very same industrial lasers that had formed much of the ship, he now very much wanted to know what exactly had been created. "Cut out the door, and bring it to the Solvarin for material analysis." He then opens up the channel to the Asersin at large; "Begin cutting away the warped hull-sections, bring any obtainable pieces to material-supply." With that done, he moved out to get a start on resetting the cutting lasers. Been focusing on Selat and Selvas for a bit, figured I'd see how the other two were doing. Can't do much with Selthen until we start talking though.

>last post was 9 days ago i'm good at activity i swear Fortunately, this process would proceed smoothly, though the occasional Sesarin insisting on patrolling between the two ships to ensure nothing suspicious was going on consistently inconvenienced operations, at least they had the sense to keep their hands well away from their weapons while onboard the newcomer's ships. And now, with the Injured safely off the Ship, Selat took the Notepad once more, quickly sketching an outline of the plan; the Transfer Lock door closed once more, several doors in the Sirvenal open, and several non-descript boxes bearing the symbols from earlier being moved to the transfer lock. After displaying this, he moves away once more, and sketches another image, the Sirvenal's various doors closed once more, and the boxes now with the Injured on the somehow less-accurate sketches of the Invader Class vessels than before. After displaying this second image, Selat passes the Notepad to Selvas, "Go onto their ship, await my signal." She stares at the notepad for several moments. "Are you entirely certain this is a good idea?" Selat's response is quite simple; he pushes her across the threshold, and closes the Transfer lock. Selvas turns to the Newcomers and proceeds to stare at the apparent leader, the inscrutable visor of the Pressure Suit blocking out her death-glare quite nicely. Onboard the Sirvenal, the Irseris, Asersin, and Solvarin, now the only remaining Selan onboard, spring into action, the various doors being opened, throwing more than a few loose pieces of metal and equipment from the ship as the decompression accelerates violently. The first duty is to recover the Asersin equipment, many of the doors to more important equipment needing to be forcibly returned to an open position, but this is handled as a matter of course. Quickly, the various crates and packages of equipment are gathered in the Transfer Lock, and what plants can still be salvaged from the Arsiren Hydroponic Stations are placed within the sealed-operation enclosures, originally intended for bio-engineering, the few still functional chambers now the best chance for any plants to not die. Eventually, the process is complete. Selat stands in the Transfer Lock with his team, and brings up Selvas' channel on the Communications; "We're ready to transfer!" Selvas responds quite immediately "The door is controlled from the Sirvenal. What was the point of this?" Selat does not have a good answer for this, and elects to simply open the door. Besides the angry Sesarin shoving her way past whoever had the misfortune of being between her and the crate she intended to pick up, the transfer of supplies went quickly, the patrolling Sesarin finally being useful in directing traffic to the necessary sections of the Brotherhood Ships. Selat, being possessed of neither medical expertise, nor significant physical strength, remains in the Transfer Lock, and sketches one last image on the Notepad, a few sentences in the language of Saesil; utterly unintelligible to the newcomers, followed by a handful of completely unrelated scribbling in an obvious attempt to replicate text from Brotherhood screens and equipment. Alongside this image, he produces a small, thread-bound, spineless book full of sketched-images and yet more unintelligible Saesil script.

Now it was Telsir's turn to be confused, if, for different reasons. While were several small airlocks, the Sirvenal had only a single dock; and unless the newcomers lacked external sensors, or, the ship had taken significantly greater, and more conveniently shaped, damage than believed, this would surely be something known to them. He took the Notepad from Selat, and quickly sketched the transfer lock of the Sirvenal, and the ship attached to it, briefly checking the newcomer's image to add details missed in the previous rendition, as well as the second ship, with a single vertical line through it. As he shows this to the Newcomers, however, Talsen enters the room alongside a set of returning hover-gurneys, "Selat, Telsir! What is this? We have no time for- for games!" As Telsir holds the Notepad, Selat responds, "It is communication, Talsen, of a sort." Anything further is cut off, as Talsen rushes Telsir, and snatches the Notepad away from him, quickly putting together a vastly more complex, if, still hastily done rendition of the transfer lock, showing several Selan figures, no longer mere sticks, following the Gurneys into the Brotherhood ship, and shows that to the Newcomers.

The Sesarin lead the creatures and their contraptions through the various vaugely-functional passages of the Ship, dodging the occasional pieces of of metal jutting out at odd angles as he went, eventually reaching the entrance of the Command Section. With this task completed, he takes up overwatch near the entrance, weapon always at the ready, while the Arsiren finish preparations to begin moving the injured. Back in the transfer lock, Selat and Telsir attempt to draw up an explanation of exactly what exactly is going to be, using a now-unoccupied crate to support the notepad. After a short while of this they return to the newcomers and present their most recent construction; a yet more unnecessarily intricate representation of the Sirvenal, with the injured demonstrated in the earlier image transposed onto a quite vauge representation of the Infinite Decorum, and two rooms in the Sirvenal, labelled with a replica of the interpretation of medical supplies used earlier by the brotherhood, and a rather hasty, though carefully, and incomprehensibly, labelled rendition of a DNA fragment, respectively, each room with several uninjured figure in it.

This is the Out of Character thread for Inheritor of the Stars. Any questions relating to the RP can be asked here, and so on and so forth. Metagaming will be punished by being drop-kicked into a Plot Hole, and I reserve the right to police RP Quality within the thread, regardless of the Open tag. A good way to measure this is if your post meets the following criteria: It is well written. This does not necessarily refer to spelling, it's merely about the quality of writing. A one-liner about how your ship's captain threatens everyone with galactic destruction and then summons his 200 ship support fleet, isn't acceptable, even if it is grammatically immaculate. Your post makes sense in context. It's fine if your running something that intentionally operates illogically, or you need to RP incompetence or something. If your post is just your guy showing up and doing something completely unrelated to the rest of the RP, there's a problem Your post does not involve Godmodding. This means no writing other people's characters without their permission, and no nonsensical turns of events coming from 'lore' that you made up off the top of your head. We can tell when that happens. Note that former portion of this is not the Consent Rule transposed from Moderation, we just want you to be reasonable regarding how you interact with other characters. When in doubt, ask. I mentioned Metagaming up there already. Don't do it. As long as your post meets those criteria, you're good. Just remember that we're all here to tell a story, not to win a round of a strategy game. Of course, the right-proper Organic RP Rules and Guidelines still apply, doubly so where they merely restate/reinforce the above.

The box is reacted to with what Selat certainly hopes was an expected hostility from the Sesarin, who promptly re-assumed their positions. Selat, being vastly more trusting, simply grabs up and opens the box, showing the contents to Selvas, who quickly waves down the Sesarin, who return to their passive positions as quickly as they had left them. "Selvas", starts Selat, "We need to get the injured off the ship. These people will assist with the... erm..." He trails off as he realizes that the gurneys, were, in fact, hovering under their own power. "Er, yes, they will need assistance finding the Command section." To which Selvas gestures towards the Sesarin formerly serving as a writing desk, "Bring the..." She looks back at the newcomers "Creatures, to the Command Section. Ensure that at least one remains within arms reach. I suspect they are unwilling to kill their own." The Sesarin gives a quick nod, and gestures to the Brotherhood Medical staff to follow him as he leaves the room. Telsir enters the room immediately afterward, and briefly marvels at the hovering gurneys before taking the side of Selat.

Selat, seeing the pad and pen for what it is, quickly retrieves his own set from a pocket, and examines the images produced by the bizarre creature before him; It drew lines. And then a few more. All hope was lost, he was clearly not dealing with intelligent life. Selvas, on the other hand vaguely recognizes the lines, taking a few seconds to stare at her electromagnetic rifle to figure out exactly why. And then it comes to her; they're a crude rendition of the images on the maintenance sheet for the weapon. "I believe they're called... wiring, Selat." He continues to stare at the notepad for a few seconds, before coming to the same realization, and opening the channel back to the Command section, "Telsir, come to the transfer lock immediately, I believe we may have some method of communication." With that, he stabilizes the Notepad on the shield of a nearby Sesarin, who makes a point of glaring at the Solvarin while he does so, and produces what will hopefully project the seriousness of the situation. He turns back to the newcomers, and shows them the Notepad; A quite intricate rendition of the Sirvenal, with a few holes in it, and several crude stickfigures with various limbs missing inside the ship.

Unfortunately for the Brotherhood personnel, the Selan were not quite so willing to display peace. After a few seconds of seemingly empty Airlock, several Sesarin, with their red and blue armored pressure suits reveal themselves behind hasty barricades of stacked storage and structural supports displaced by the Spatial Drive, each one leveling a sort of firearm at the Human leading the group, aside a small shield, rendering many of them quite difficult to see behind their defenses. Selvas stands at the center of this formation, identifiable from the others only by the two peices of metal hanging from the bottom-right of her helmet, and the only one of them not situated behind some manner of cover. Clearly, they weren't expecting resistance, those few who are armed stand without attention, their leader frozen in some display, likely some form of order. This stalemate, however, is quickly broken by Selat's entrance. To an observer, he merely gesticulates wildly, his words neither meant for the Brotherhood personnel, or able to be heard outside of the pressure suit, "Sesarin! Lower your weapons! There is no time for this madness!" He is quickly joined by the voice of Talsen, still in the command section; "We are preparing to move the injured. Resolve this quickly or there is no hope for their survival." Selvas makes a half-turn toward the Airlock's entrance, still dominated by the generally diminutive Solvarin. She remains this way for several seconds, before turning away, and aiming her weapon away from the Brotherhood personnel, towards the ceiling. The passive stance is adopted by the rest of the Sesarin, though they retain their defensive positions. With this particular difficulty now surpassed, Selat takes Selvas' side at the head of the group, and... stands there like a fool, having absolutely no idea how to communicate with these newcomers.