Setting
To think about all of this, to think about the vast emptiness of space...
Minimap
northwest |
north |
northeast |
west |
You are here. |
east |
southwest |
south |
southeast |
Space is a part of 
Miðgarðr; Realm of the Man.
16 Places in Space:
96 Characters Here
Jyll [154] Jyll Ava Bespoke, a revolutionary and a surly bitch.
Isenbrandt [150] A tall, somewhat fit man in his early thirties. Around his neck is a mote of iron, showing him to be a Sorcerer from the north. He walks with a sure stride and gazes about with keen eyes.
Emperor Kaisaar Aster I [83] Emperor of the Asteran Empire.
Faelan Hizix [75]
Troven [72] A hyper intelligent AI that enjoys booze, the ability to ingest food and an overactive libido off the clock.
The Pandorian Alliance [43] "Though Challanges are always present, one's strength will determine the outcome, not the difficulty of the challange itself".
The VARIAtech Consulate [41] "Facilitate Innovation to Enable Progress"
Hamayoun Sadir [38] A technological magnate and industrialist who has unlocked the secrets of teleportation. Co-Founder of the Publicly traded company Polyverse.
Djoser the Sun Blooded [32] The ageless mad god king of the Jackalites. A brilliant scholar, scientist, inventor, philosopher, politician, navigator, engineer, architect, physician, tactician and warrior. Currently in constant hibernation by choice.
Zor [26] Possibly the sexiest human being alive.
Start Character Here »
Vehicles
The Auroragon
“
Ahh...this. This is much more like it...
”
Somewhere in deep space..
A Reverence II, the Esteem winked into existence from nothingness, Admiral Hanley was on a mission, to procure additional resources to help defend Aschen worlds from attack. She had been given authorization to seek foreign help, and while she held that ideal with some modicum of disdain, she decided she would seek out the last known location of the Obsidian Eagle.
"Jump completed, running wide spectrum scans, nothing but dust, and echoes." The Tactical officer reported, and Hanley frowned.
"Keep searching, we're bound to find something." Hanley ordered.
A Reverence II, the Esteem winked into existence from nothingness, Admiral Hanley was on a mission, to procure additional resources to help defend Aschen worlds from attack. She had been given authorization to seek foreign help, and while she held that ideal with some modicum of disdain, she decided she would seek out the last known location of the Obsidian Eagle.
"Jump completed, running wide spectrum scans, nothing but dust, and echoes." The Tactical officer reported, and Hanley frowned.
"Keep searching, we're bound to find something." Hanley ordered.
It would take a few minutes, but the Obsidian Eagle and her supporting Fleet would be easy to find. They weren't trying to hide, after all. The Obsidian Eagle looked exactly as Hanley would remember it looking. A dagger-shaped, three kilometer long Star Destroyer with multiple hangar bays, and numerous weapons batteries scattered around. The rest of the fleet featured similarly shaped craft of varying Star Destroyer Types to include the Venator, Acclamator, Sabre, and the imposing Assertor Class Super Star Dreadnought, at over twenty kilometers in length. There was also numerous Tartan Patrol Cruisers surrounding the medical ships to provide a nigh impenetrable point defense screen.
But no one was here to fight. The shields were up as usual, but the weapons were powered down and the comms were open. All Hanley need do was say hello.
But no one was here to fight. The shields were up as usual, but the weapons were powered down and the comms were open. All Hanley need do was say hello.
"I've got a fix." The Tactical officer reported, and a large icon flickered to life on the holographic display in front of Admiral Hanley.
She affixed her gaze to the soft cyan hues of the representation of space, with the occasional lighter icon depicting space debris. She watched the flickering yellow outline of the Obsidian Eagle.
"Hail them." Admiral Hanley instructed.
"Obsidian Eagle, this is the Esteem broadcasting on a priority one channel, please respond."
The message would repeat until they responded, as the hulking form of the Reverence II rounded an errant asteroid.
She affixed her gaze to the soft cyan hues of the representation of space, with the occasional lighter icon depicting space debris. She watched the flickering yellow outline of the Obsidian Eagle.
"Hail them." Admiral Hanley instructed.
"Obsidian Eagle, this is the Esteem broadcasting on a priority one channel, please respond."
The message would repeat until they responded, as the hulking form of the Reverence II rounded an errant asteroid.
"We're being hailed!" The comm officer called out. Kinara blinked and nodded, making her way to the communication's table to first get a readout of who was hailing them, a holographic map of the area. Ah... fuck. A Reverence II? Aschen? This far out? Well, then again, Kinara supposed, they were in the outer-most territory of the Empire. Not impossible. Likely they were contacting them to tell them to leave. No big deal.
"We read, you, Esteem. Send it for the Obsidian Eagle, how may the Grey Battalion serve you?" Kinara answered, her projection appearing as she spoke in response. At the same time, who ever was available would appear before Kinara as a hologram or simple image or video on her own displays, if the Aschen weren't camera shy, anyway.
"We read, you, Esteem. Send it for the Obsidian Eagle, how may the Grey Battalion serve you?" Kinara answered, her projection appearing as she spoke in response. At the same time, who ever was available would appear before Kinara as a hologram or simple image or video on her own displays, if the Aschen weren't camera shy, anyway.
AC 52020: A NEW ERA BEGINSThe year is AC 52020, after the first colony fell. Pervasive mobile-suit warfare left Terra in ruin, again, but Sol Enterprises returned to the news as it released a premier line of nu-type mobile suits, bringing about a hum of peace for the decade.
Quieting unrest in the wilds, a new group of adventurers arose from the ashes.
Quieting unrest in the wilds, a new group of adventurers arose from the ashes.
While the greatest of horrors lurk just beyond the horizon, the Multiverse faces a new threat. Rumours of ancient origin spread like wildfire, scattering the arcane legends throughout the well-connected cluster of leystones lit up like sprites on the fiery wind.
NOW RECRUITING
IN
WING CITY PLAZABut where must they go? Only a Cartographer would know.
Hanley Grimaced, as the full projection of the Obsidian Eagle flickered in front of her, the dull hum of the Reverence's CIC's systems filled her ear, offering a distracting ambiance from the gravity of the situation.
She turned towards EVE, and began to nod. "Transmit all relevant data on the Asylian attacks on the Empire, and their known intention." The Admiral instructed, and EVE quickly complied, before she opened the comms channel.
"We need your help, an entity that calls themselves the Kingdom of Asylia have declared war, they have invaded the Imperial core systems, and have been carrying out hit and run attacks. They are adept in the use of magics, and psionics, and they are technologically advanced than us." These were strange words coming from an Aschen officer, whom usually regarded their training and equipment as the best.
"They hit Molecay, and the colony world of Cryo, and we've suffered heavy losses from their attacks." The Admiral explained.
She turned towards EVE, and began to nod. "Transmit all relevant data on the Asylian attacks on the Empire, and their known intention." The Admiral instructed, and EVE quickly complied, before she opened the comms channel.
"We need your help, an entity that calls themselves the Kingdom of Asylia have declared war, they have invaded the Imperial core systems, and have been carrying out hit and run attacks. They are adept in the use of magics, and psionics, and they are technologically advanced than us." These were strange words coming from an Aschen officer, whom usually regarded their training and equipment as the best.
"They hit Molecay, and the colony world of Cryo, and we've suffered heavy losses from their attacks." The Admiral explained.
Kinara smiled as she saw Hanley. Always a pleasure to see a pretty face, even if she wasn't into women the same way Kinara was. The data was received and pulled up on the holo-display before Kinara, letting her go over it at her own pace. Her eyes were alight with interest as she poured over the data.
"A technologically superior, magic and psychic race... very interesting. Perhaps the Force can be channeled to help level the playing field? Regardless, the Grey Battalion and its fleet will be yours to command. All we'll need is unhindered access to your hyper lanes so we can effectively travel through Aschen space. I doubt the Grey Battalion by itself will pose much of a threat or stand much of a chance going on the offensive against this foe - particularly if they're more advanced than the Aschen technologically."
Kinara sighed and crossed her arms, shifting her weight to her left hip. Her lightsaber hilt shifted with her movements as it hung at her hip on her belt. "Yes, we'll help you. Give us a set of coordinates and we'll take off. I suppose we can arrange payment later? Or would you like to take care of that now?" she asked, smiling.
Nothing came free, and the Grey Battalion wasn't exactly cheap. They had a literal army of men and women to feed, even if they were all clones.
"A technologically superior, magic and psychic race... very interesting. Perhaps the Force can be channeled to help level the playing field? Regardless, the Grey Battalion and its fleet will be yours to command. All we'll need is unhindered access to your hyper lanes so we can effectively travel through Aschen space. I doubt the Grey Battalion by itself will pose much of a threat or stand much of a chance going on the offensive against this foe - particularly if they're more advanced than the Aschen technologically."
Kinara sighed and crossed her arms, shifting her weight to her left hip. Her lightsaber hilt shifted with her movements as it hung at her hip on her belt. "Yes, we'll help you. Give us a set of coordinates and we'll take off. I suppose we can arrange payment later? Or would you like to take care of that now?" she asked, smiling.
Nothing came free, and the Grey Battalion wasn't exactly cheap. They had a literal army of men and women to feed, even if they were all clones.
From out of the uncharted darkness of Space, a large rock-like object appears, arriving from out of the depths of Gehenna, from among the Hall of Riots, and heading slowly along a straight trajectory, heading for one of the nearby galaxies. It had taken over 100 years for the black lump to travel this far, having ventured over many millions of light-miles in that small amount of time. The rock seemed to rotate slowly along a slightly curved axis, having no distinguishing markings or features. The chunk of rock had an uneven egg-like bumpy shape and a black glassy reflective surface almost like obsidian. The object moved through Space at a steady pace, never speeding up or slowing down. The rocky object gave off no radio signals, no life signals or heat signatures as it drifted timelessly for several years without ever colliding with anything or switching direction, just coasting casually through outer space, heading closer to the cluster of galaxies.
Wōđanaz peers out over Mjötviðr, The Realms, sitting upon his throne Hlidskjalf while gazing over the Multiverse from his high seat beyond. He was accompanied by two wolves which rested at his feet at either side of Hlidskjalf, while they themselves were accompanied by two ravens which perched above the king's chair on either side of Wōđanaz, one of them whispering everything into his ear, recalling all manner of thoughts and accoustics, the desires and schemes of those with hearts, all imaginations and even some hidden fates and futures. The other raven, although less verbal than the former one, was distinguished by it's one milky white eye which seemed to be blind, yet remained open and staring. It's other eye was pitch black, and whatever that raven's eye could see, Wōđanaz could see it too.
Gripping the shaft of his magical spear Gungnir, on which the tip had been engraved in dwarven runes, enchanted so that the spear, if thrown, would never miss its mark, with its shaft crafted by the Sons of Ivaldi under the mastery of Dvalinn, forged from the magical branches of Yggdrasil itself, Wōđanaz peered out over the realms. His one eye watching everything which transpired below, like a god-king sitting atop of his mountain throne looking down at a live-action tabletop roleplaying game. Asgard, Midgard, Hel, and those places on the gameboard below seemed ever so small to Wōđanaz from Hlidskjalf, in that great hall of his called Valaskjalf, located high above Asgard and everywhere else in Mjötviðr, posted like an eagle's nest in one of the highest branches of a forest canopy.
Above his mighty black mountain in Valaskjalf, above that great big silver canopy was nothing but open sky and darkness, a swirling storm of purple, black, pink and grey, a void-like cloudy shadow illuminated by spurs of flaming smoke and flashes of mostly silent light, almost like rainbow nebulae, gamma rays and heat lightning, and the only thing in that endless vastness were blue and white twinkling stars and galaxies, or what looked like them anyway. This space-like dome ceiling over Valaskjalf's silver rooftop was actually the grand Multiverse itself, and what appeared to Wōđanaz like distant stars in deep space were actually distant parallel universes in the cosmic ocean of that never-ending Multiverse, separated by millions of billions of light years and time distortions in the void that very few in the whole grand scheme of things could see, let alone imagine.
Wōđanaz looked beyond all the citadels in Asgard, beyond his other throne at Valhöll, gazing over the tallest peaks in Jotunheim, past its giant stronghold at Utgard, beyond all the halls, forests and oceans of Vanaheim, beyond Niflheim, beyond Muspell, and into the great primordial void from whence all existence came to be, from a time before time, a space beyond space, to the great paradoxical singularity that is both all and nothing. There he fixed his gaze for a while, entering a trance-like meditation, a motionless death-like state of being without pulse or breath, sitting upright with one eye open, firmly gripping his spear without slouching or blinking. Wōđanaz was like a statue as he sat on his throne, gazing into the endless expansion, Geri and Freki laying on the floor beside him. One of them appeared to be napping or sleeping on his side with his eyes closed and head down. The other wolf was also laying down, but his head was up and his eyes open as he lounged quietly, taking a deep yawn before laying his head down and watching the entrance to the hall as if lazily guarding his master.
Soon, the one raven with the milky white eye, Muninn, would cawl once before flapping its enormous wingspan and taking flight, shrinking both in size and nearness to Mjötviðr as it dove down into the realm of Miðgarðr far below, and descended further upon the vastness of Space, its one black eye sending everything it saw back to Mjötviðr, back to Valaskjalf and to Hlidskjalf where the raven's master was seated. Once in Space, the intelligent and sentient corvid would glide effortlessly through the universe, looking at all the different galaxies scattered about as if trying to decide which one to descend upon. It was difficult to decipher the raven's actual size from a distance in Space at that moment, for it had seemed to change in size and shrink from its otherwise massive galaxy-sized form in Mjötviðr, becoming more star-like in size as it flew into Midgard, continuing to seemingly shrink more and more now as it dove down into the open vastness of Space, its black feathers extremely difficult to see in the darkness as it soared in search of wisdom and knowledge to share with Wodanaz.
Gripping the shaft of his magical spear Gungnir, on which the tip had been engraved in dwarven runes, enchanted so that the spear, if thrown, would never miss its mark, with its shaft crafted by the Sons of Ivaldi under the mastery of Dvalinn, forged from the magical branches of Yggdrasil itself, Wōđanaz peered out over the realms. His one eye watching everything which transpired below, like a god-king sitting atop of his mountain throne looking down at a live-action tabletop roleplaying game. Asgard, Midgard, Hel, and those places on the gameboard below seemed ever so small to Wōđanaz from Hlidskjalf, in that great hall of his called Valaskjalf, located high above Asgard and everywhere else in Mjötviðr, posted like an eagle's nest in one of the highest branches of a forest canopy.
Above his mighty black mountain in Valaskjalf, above that great big silver canopy was nothing but open sky and darkness, a swirling storm of purple, black, pink and grey, a void-like cloudy shadow illuminated by spurs of flaming smoke and flashes of mostly silent light, almost like rainbow nebulae, gamma rays and heat lightning, and the only thing in that endless vastness were blue and white twinkling stars and galaxies, or what looked like them anyway. This space-like dome ceiling over Valaskjalf's silver rooftop was actually the grand Multiverse itself, and what appeared to Wōđanaz like distant stars in deep space were actually distant parallel universes in the cosmic ocean of that never-ending Multiverse, separated by millions of billions of light years and time distortions in the void that very few in the whole grand scheme of things could see, let alone imagine.
Wōđanaz looked beyond all the citadels in Asgard, beyond his other throne at Valhöll, gazing over the tallest peaks in Jotunheim, past its giant stronghold at Utgard, beyond all the halls, forests and oceans of Vanaheim, beyond Niflheim, beyond Muspell, and into the great primordial void from whence all existence came to be, from a time before time, a space beyond space, to the great paradoxical singularity that is both all and nothing. There he fixed his gaze for a while, entering a trance-like meditation, a motionless death-like state of being without pulse or breath, sitting upright with one eye open, firmly gripping his spear without slouching or blinking. Wōđanaz was like a statue as he sat on his throne, gazing into the endless expansion, Geri and Freki laying on the floor beside him. One of them appeared to be napping or sleeping on his side with his eyes closed and head down. The other wolf was also laying down, but his head was up and his eyes open as he lounged quietly, taking a deep yawn before laying his head down and watching the entrance to the hall as if lazily guarding his master.
Soon, the one raven with the milky white eye, Muninn, would cawl once before flapping its enormous wingspan and taking flight, shrinking both in size and nearness to Mjötviðr as it dove down into the realm of Miðgarðr far below, and descended further upon the vastness of Space, its one black eye sending everything it saw back to Mjötviðr, back to Valaskjalf and to Hlidskjalf where the raven's master was seated. Once in Space, the intelligent and sentient corvid would glide effortlessly through the universe, looking at all the different galaxies scattered about as if trying to decide which one to descend upon. It was difficult to decipher the raven's actual size from a distance in Space at that moment, for it had seemed to change in size and shrink from its otherwise massive galaxy-sized form in Mjötviðr, becoming more star-like in size as it flew into Midgard, continuing to seemingly shrink more and more now as it dove down into the open vastness of Space, its black feathers extremely difficult to see in the darkness as it soared in search of wisdom and knowledge to share with Wodanaz.
Muninn, the second raven would cawl and blink at the orbus. Wodanaz could see everything that was transpiring in the realms, as Muninn kept its gaze fixed on The Orbus distrustfully like a typical wild avian. Meanwhile, the two wolves at the foot of Woden's throne continued to lay on the ground lazily, paying little mind to all of the happenings around them. Woden himself was just sitting on his throne silently, upright and facing forward. He did not flinch or blink, only sitting there quietly while holding the shaft of his magical spear with his right hand with its rune engraved tip pointing vertically towards the open dark skies. No sound was emitted from the one eyed man with the long grey beard and wide brimmed hat. His one white eye, appearing blind and colorless, peered forward from beneath the shadow of his hat, while his other eye remained evinced in shade, peering out into the darkness. It was difficult to tell, but he was watching, listening, and absorbing everything that was happening in all of the realms below. He was planning something...