Primitive Polygon
🎖️ Game Master
- RP Date
- Mid YE 41.
- RP Location
- Planet Yuukan
YE 41
-♫♫♫-
Yuukan was a planet of wide open willowy plains, lush grass and temperate forests.
From the pointed trees of the taiga to the silent bays and valleys, a rip-roar beyond light and sound cascaded outwards and split the bedrock with it's tremendous, pulverizing conflagration. Rolling waves of heat and radiation evaporated mountains, seas, buildings, countless souls- This was true aether, an inferno that was not fire- A cascade far beyond that mere human concept of hot and cold.
"Bishop six! Bishop six! We are closing the shelters! Get yourself to-" "LOSING ALTITUTE, THE ENGINE DECK IS ON F-" "CONTAIN THE BREACH, HOLD THEM!-" "-questing ammo! Were the hell is our-!" "PUT YOUR GLASSES ON! LOCK DOWN! LOCK DOWN!"
The damnation that rolled down the pock-marked hills and washed over the concrete sides of firebase 8142 was immediate and ferocious, turning a three hundred shambling wrecks to ash and then something less, instantaneously. Zombies, simple reanimated casualties of both sides- Ranks of Reaper power armour began to glow orange and erupted white-hot steam from rents that split outwards- Shredder gunboats were carried sideways in the wind, coiling impossibly until the G-forces scattered them like glimmering confetti.
When it was over, there were no eyes left to look upward. The ground was a baked crust, with splinters of glass. At first the winds carried shredding black fragments faster than the speed of sound, through a sky clotted midnight black. No night or day.
It took until the ninth day to finally pass. Every few miles there was a building, or a piece of a starship, sunken like an island into this new solid sea. Skeletonized. Alone.
-----
-----
-----
-----
-----
<"...Sisters... Know that this was necessary."> The transmission was foggy, distorted, reflecting a blue haze onto the inner decks of a ruined Traducer class fast cruiser. The speaker was pale and sunken-eyed, their green cap shading over a face far too used to despair and sacrifice. A Nekovalkyrja, but... now... maybe something else. They didn't sugar their expression or speak with status. This wasn't propaganda or a rallying cry. This was a simple statement of truth. <"I am... acting High Marshal Goruygo Mosi... Two weeks ago, the main headquarters were overrun by loyalist forces... and our intelligence operations were compromised. Our...counter-offensive in Bohrkra and Novu were halted by units of superior manpower and armament... Our... Our Great Lady Michuru is... Our beloved lady remains missing in action...">
There was an indistinct whistling building up. The remaining scavengers of the cruiser's troop transport capacity grouped around the screen in the dark, each of them ducking under the bent wrungs of the ceiling, hanging wires and broken deck plates. The corners of the 'room' itself were no longer quite straight.
<"Current efforts are to... reunite in Rodan City..."> They seemed to stare off into the distance, straight through whatever other survivors might be watching this. <"...Use the old transport tunnels and armoured supply bases at your own risk. They may still be infested. Consume only sealed supplies. Avoid exposure to the rain.">
A bout of silence.
<"We... are annealed, like the strengthening of metalwork...">
Slowly, they stood, fixing their tie, patting down the vestments of their jacket. And then they saluted, just a little over the camera, dull-eyed. Like saluting a ghost. A ghost of a dream.
<"...Sisters... I... Rodan City... I will see you soon.">
OOC: @Immortal Cyan @Charmaylarg Dufrain @SirSkully
This isn't an immediate call to action or anything, just... Time to put some build-up here on a slow burn, rather than let the idea dry out, huh? We will start sooner or later.
-♫♫♫-
Yuukan was a planet of wide open willowy plains, lush grass and temperate forests.
From the pointed trees of the taiga to the silent bays and valleys, a rip-roar beyond light and sound cascaded outwards and split the bedrock with it's tremendous, pulverizing conflagration. Rolling waves of heat and radiation evaporated mountains, seas, buildings, countless souls- This was true aether, an inferno that was not fire- A cascade far beyond that mere human concept of hot and cold.
"Bishop six! Bishop six! We are closing the shelters! Get yourself to-" "LOSING ALTITUTE, THE ENGINE DECK IS ON F-" "CONTAIN THE BREACH, HOLD THEM!-" "-questing ammo! Were the hell is our-!" "PUT YOUR GLASSES ON! LOCK DOWN! LOCK DOWN!"
The damnation that rolled down the pock-marked hills and washed over the concrete sides of firebase 8142 was immediate and ferocious, turning a three hundred shambling wrecks to ash and then something less, instantaneously. Zombies, simple reanimated casualties of both sides- Ranks of Reaper power armour began to glow orange and erupted white-hot steam from rents that split outwards- Shredder gunboats were carried sideways in the wind, coiling impossibly until the G-forces scattered them like glimmering confetti.
When it was over, there were no eyes left to look upward. The ground was a baked crust, with splinters of glass. At first the winds carried shredding black fragments faster than the speed of sound, through a sky clotted midnight black. No night or day.
It took until the ninth day to finally pass. Every few miles there was a building, or a piece of a starship, sunken like an island into this new solid sea. Skeletonized. Alone.
-----
-----
-----
-----
-----
<"...Sisters... Know that this was necessary."> The transmission was foggy, distorted, reflecting a blue haze onto the inner decks of a ruined Traducer class fast cruiser. The speaker was pale and sunken-eyed, their green cap shading over a face far too used to despair and sacrifice. A Nekovalkyrja, but... now... maybe something else. They didn't sugar their expression or speak with status. This wasn't propaganda or a rallying cry. This was a simple statement of truth. <"I am... acting High Marshal Goruygo Mosi... Two weeks ago, the main headquarters were overrun by loyalist forces... and our intelligence operations were compromised. Our...counter-offensive in Bohrkra and Novu were halted by units of superior manpower and armament... Our... Our Great Lady Michuru is... Our beloved lady remains missing in action...">
There was an indistinct whistling building up. The remaining scavengers of the cruiser's troop transport capacity grouped around the screen in the dark, each of them ducking under the bent wrungs of the ceiling, hanging wires and broken deck plates. The corners of the 'room' itself were no longer quite straight.
<"Current efforts are to... reunite in Rodan City..."> They seemed to stare off into the distance, straight through whatever other survivors might be watching this. <"...Use the old transport tunnels and armoured supply bases at your own risk. They may still be infested. Consume only sealed supplies. Avoid exposure to the rain.">
A bout of silence.
<"We... are annealed, like the strengthening of metalwork...">
Slowly, they stood, fixing their tie, patting down the vestments of their jacket. And then they saluted, just a little over the camera, dull-eyed. Like saluting a ghost. A ghost of a dream.
<"...Sisters... I... Rodan City... I will see you soon.">
OOC: @Immortal Cyan @Charmaylarg Dufrain @SirSkully
This isn't an immediate call to action or anything, just... Time to put some build-up here on a slow burn, rather than let the idea dry out, huh? We will start sooner or later.
