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Post by Shaman Anaxilea on Mar 3, 2013 8:58:08 GMT -8
Zonama Sekot was unique from other worlds. Its north polar region, a spot of pearl white, was surrounded by an entire hemisphere of tropical jungles. Its southern hemisphere was covered with impenetrable silvery clouds. Along the equator there were several rivers, lakes, and small seas. The edge of the southern hemisphere was also covered by elegant wisps of wind which frequently broke free to form spinning storms.
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Post by Darr'tah C'thulhu on Mar 1, 2015 6:56:56 GMT -8
In the arid wastes, a form lay prone amidst the whirling sand and deadly heat.
At first, there was nothing. There was bliss in oblivion. Peace. A utopian sleep that had been so sought after, that one needed death to achieve it. What cruelty was that? That the life of one man had spun so out of control that only death could resolve it. His death had been the end of an era, the twilight of a dynasty and the forthcoming desolation of his line. Were they a worthy sacrifice? He would have time to mull that over, for one did not worry on the passing of time in the void.
Light. Small at first but growing in both size and radiance.
There were so many times in the past when he longed for the warmth and promise that the growing light was herald to. This time, it was enough to jar and spoil the seemingly endless recollection that was his dreams. So many faces, they, the worn covers of so many countless damaged tomes. Each a story of its own. There were those of whom he had truly loved and others which filled him with enough hatred to drive his tired form. Irregardless, he coveted these mismatched lives for they had once defined his very own. The light continued to grow and it drove before it all that he would choose to ground himself to, in spite of whether or not it would destroy him. There was no truer death than to die, smothered in what it was that made your heart still for a moment. Strangled by the hands you wish you now still held. Gone. They passed out of view and like all the others, they left him to meet whatever end awaited him. With endless pain coursing through his veins, memories too real and deep like stab wounds, he would carry on and face whatever end awaited him.
The light grew increasingly bright and the world about him rushed into a blurred and harsh view. He struggled to cough, prone upon his elbows and knees, he choked upon the first breath. He landed face first in the scorching heat of the desert sand and from his dry lungs came a sickly and hollow wheeze. Withered face slick with spittle, he turned his head to the side and inhaled the arid surroundings greedily. He was caught in a choking fit for some time, keeping his eyes closed and struggling to breath. His eyes opened now, only dully seeing his surroundings for the first time. The desert stretched on for miles in each direction, the wind stirring up great clouds of particulate and berating all that dared to exist in the wastes. His ragged breath had slowed and now he observed his immediate area. There was something near him, a black sepulcher affixed with a myriad of markings. Perhaps they were of importance but in this moment, his weary eyes could not discern them.
He looked to his hands, knowing a life that once was but unable to recognize his current existence. They were strong hands, long fingered and calloused. The skin was taut upon the bone, there were markings there as well, black ink making them appear nefarious in nature. He wore ragged robes and with a few moments of deduction, he learned that the tomb had been shattered by the falling of a star. Its steaming form lay among the ruins, no different than himself.
There was a connection here. One that he could not make with his scattered knowledge but rather one he knew to be true on an instinctual level. His past was speaking, dare say screaming at him and he was deaf to the cries. He rose slowly from the sand and grimaced with every creaking bone. He stumbled closer to the tomb and made his way inside. There was destruction from the falling star but not everything had been harmed. There was a black case with no latches or locks. Upon touching it, the case began to slightly glow and with a hiss, it opened before him. There were gauntlets, saber hilts, a knife, an axe, a sword. There were guns, armor and clothing. This case was death and even as confused as he was in this moment, he understood that he needed to take this with him. He found another smaller case, one with two handguns, ammunition and what he only presumed to be data pads and some crystalline technology he could not quite understand.
He stripped from his rags and took a moment to observe his body in the daylight creeping through the shattered tomb. He was covered in markings, tattoos and scars. Some of the wounds that caused those scars should have been lethal and they did little to ease his mind. He changed into the clothing, not understanding how finely made they were. He added the armor to himself and a few of the weapons, the rest he placed in a messenger bag that appeared to be made of some crudely sewn leather. Perhaps it was the dim setting of the tomb or perhaps the stress of confusion on his mind, but he never once noticed the face that had been used to create the bag. He felt better with the gear upon him, though, he couldn't say why. The sepulcher brought about too many questions, too many subconscious memories that gnawed at his heart and mind. He looked again to the position of the sun and determined he would have time to set out, in search of nothing at all. People wouldn't solve these riddles in the sand, only he himself could do that. This he inherently understood.
Feeling neither thirst nor hunger, the man, armed now with the weapons of a stranger and questions too many to number, walked into the wastes. The cloak he wore billowed around him, a long forgotten emblem waving in the wind once more.
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Post by Darr'tah C'thulhu on Mar 3, 2015 5:18:43 GMT -8
The day grew long and the heat never once subsided. Respite came from the howling wind with its pelting sand. There were people near by, the man wagered. There had to be. He had seen the shimmer of water from the heights he had traversed nearly two hours ago. He was glad to be moving, for having a purpose of sorts. He was here for a reason, it just hadn't revealed itself to him yet. The hours had been kind to him, allowing for him to regain some memory. This world was once familiar to him. It had been his home for some time. He could feel that, with every step he took. In the great desolate expanse that surrounded him upon his waking, he had chose the path that lead to water and water to civilization. He surmised it was more than mere luck. The structure he was spat into the world from was in no doubt a tomb, but he guessed it had served a different purpose than just a grave. It was a stockpile of sorts, the weapons, the technology, the body. Whoever he truly was, he could not remember but he knew without any questions that he was a dangerous man. Furthermore, he was seemingly back from the dead. He could sense power within his frame, power beyond the limitations of flesh and bone. It made him think that something as far fetched as life after death was not only possible but seemingly planned.
He traversed the sands until it grew into scrubland and from there jungle. For the first time in what felt like centuries, he spied the city of Tal En Gurtha in the distance. A tired smile spread upon cracked and tattooed lips. The feeling came over him unexpectedly, a deep sense of pride and longing nostalgia. It stopped him in his tracks and he allowed it to. He could sense the will, the power to calm this sudden wave and he ignored it, letting it fill him. This place was deeply important to the planet as well as to whoever he truly was. He stood there for a moment, lingering in feeling before trudging towards the epicenter of the city, its heart in a meteoric crater created long ago. His mind raced, questioning the possibilities of what could await him in the city. So lost in this train of thought was he that he didn't notice the men following him until it was nearly too late.
"I'm passing through. Headed towards Tal En Gurtha." He said, hearing his voice for what it truly was, a gravely growl that cared little for possible confrontation. It was surprising only until he recalled the circumstances of his day. The men, three in number, had been slowly flanking him as he approached the city. Now they were too close for his liking. "I mean no harm." He offered but even as he said it, he knew it was a lie. If these men attempted to accost him, he would destroy them without a second thought.
==Bandit 1==
"You'll go no further, Taung."
The man held a blaster pistol in his hand, his two Langhesi cohorts bore bladed weapons and hung back, allowing their leader to do the talking.
"Taung. Yes. Partially." Said the traveller. "I'll go where I please." The man with the blaster spit on the ground before the traveller and leveled the pistol on him. His eyes were red and stressed. His skin was pale and dry. The traveller knew this man was weak, weak from the drugs that had ravaged his body. Desperate enough to acquire them at any cost. Furthermore, he could sense that he was afraid, that his palm on the pistol grip was shaky and slick with sweat.
=Bandit 2=
"After you give us your credits, tall one."
=Bandit 3=
"Empty your bag! Empty your pockets! I'll carve you up nice!" said the more hostile of the Langhesi, sensing that their leader was questioning their next move. He brandished a vibroblade menacingly towards the man without a name.
The traveller spoke now, making eye contact with the bandit who threatened him. "Show me..." His voice was death, the words rattling from his chest like a sickly cough. His actions now were mindless. There was no questioning of his motives, nor of the power he felt within him. He acted and men died. The Langhesi who had threatened him, raised his weapon arm and turned on the vibroblade. He raised the weapon to his face and guiding with his other hand, began to skin the flesh from his face. His eyes had gone black and with each strip he removed from his skull, he placed it in his mouth to swallow. Panic. Panic was what the traveller could feel from them now, fear of their demise, confusion over what was taking place. Disbelief. It was as good as worship to the Nameless One. They wanted to run but they could not. Frozen in place, his victims screamed for mercy as the traveller stood still, taking it all in. The man with the pistol fired two shots in quick succession, the first catching the fine silk cloak of the tattooed man and dissipating there and the second being caught within the left gauntlet clad hand. The blast hung still for but a moment before being instinctually absorbed. He raised his outstretched palm to the pistol toting man and the dark gem set within the gauntlet released a torrent of energy that could only be described as hellacious evil. The purple flames of hatred poured out of the weapon, sending blisters up the Nameless One's arm and engulfing the bandit in a whirl of burning flesh and frantic screams. The blaster pistol exploded in the heat, sending the barrel flying into the faceless langhesi and imbedding itself through the back of his skull, ending the slobbering chewing and moans of pleasure once and for all.
=Bandit 2=
"P..ple..ease S...Sir. Do..n't..."
Anger. Anger overtook him now. The pathetic groveling was too much for the Nameless One. He only looked at the man, never raising his hands, never making one step forward. It was as if a statue were to regard a passerby with a sidelong glance. The bandit held his hands together in prayer, begging for a fate better than his cohorts, but the pleading was silenced with screams as each finger was snapped back from his hands and his hands violently wrenched from his arms. They lay beside him in the overgrowth and he was powerless but to stare at them uselessly. Blood shot from his arms in rhythmic arterial spray, spattering the foliage and turning his red skin pale. Now he watched as those same hands peeled the muscle back from his forearms, revealing the exposed and jagged bones beneath. Those possessed hands then guided those very bones into the langhesi's skull until it was unrecognizable.
The Nameless One lingered there for a moment, sorting out the feelings within himself. One minute he was elated to be returning to a familiar place from his path, the next, he was cruelly butchering three men in savage anger. Now the feeling of pleasure had returned. He unknowingly reached into his breast plate and removed a black cigarette. He placed it between his craggy tattooed lips and lit it. The emerald smoke clouded his stygian eyes and he smiled.
"I Remember..."
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Menzine
Member
Posts: 20 
Affiliation: Shaper Arts
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Post by Menzine on Mar 9, 2015 16:49:09 GMT -8
The air sighed through the Tampasi, stirring the tree-like entities as it whispered its way to the south. Strange calls echoed out as the forests awoke to the rising sun, a blurred orange rob visible despite the silvery cloud cover. Dew covered the ground, coating leaves and grass alike with tiny droplets of moisture. despite the breeze ruffling the forest canopy down near the ground the air was still with little movement to break the spell that seemed to have settled. The myriad animals and biots that called Zonama their home had yet to bestir themselves more than to call out the coming of the new day.
It had been years since Sekpt had chosen this spot for the planets occupation though still the life forms held the fear and terror of the last crossing, approaching every day warily in case another turbulent time came. There were no sentient beings alive that recalled the horrific crossing to the known galaxy of more than a century past but Zonama remembered. The Tampasi burned nearly to extinction. The pain and terror of the Ferroans and Langhesi. The calm concern of the Jedi that had been with them. So much destruction and death could not easily be erased or forgotten. Still the scares dotted the surface of the planet, slowly being consumed by the green fervor of life but there nonetheless. The Middle Distance, near consumed in the quakes and flooding that had followed the Planets encounter with a huge red star, had recovered somewhat but a huge chasm marred what was once a smooth and tranquil land. Most of the Ferroan settlers that had survived the destruction had returned there to rebuild their shattered lives. The Yuuzhan Vong that had returned to the seed of their Yuuzhan'tar had been welcomed by the Ferroan settlers and invited to join their community. It was tough going for both species, especially the warrior caste of the Yuuzhan Vong who were most used to seeing all other species as infidels. The priests too struggled, finding so much at odds with the Gods as they had known them. The Gods that Sekot insisted were lies conceived by an adrift and dying race.
It was the shapers that found life most comfortable here, the bounty of life and design around them occupying them far more that they would have dreamed possible. The missing either codex was all around them but there was more to it than that. The protocols as they had known before were shattered apart in the light of the world around them, the Quang qasha insufficient to contain it all. How could there be heresy now...
How indeed, though Menzine as she stepped outside the entrance to her Grashal, pausing to sniff at the still air. Situated far to the west of the Ferroan settlement known as Middle Distance she had come to savour the peace such isolation provided her, allowing her to conduct her studies in comfort, absent the annoyance of questions and interruption. For almost two years she had been here, living in the pilgrimage offered by her 'returning'. Others of her race had also embarked upon their own journeys of discovery before the planet had fled the known galaxy once again, choosing to adopt new lives in service to the strange entity born of Yuuzhan'tar. She had seen warriors become farmers, priests become housekeepers, intendants and prefects turn to humble peasants. It was a culture upside down to her but one that was only now becoming the right way up. Still the thought made her uneasy. Still the thoughts made her think of the God. She had not been born to remember the crossings of her people way back before they had come to this galaxy. She could not remember the glory of the Vuuzhan Vong as they carved their way across the stars of this galaxy. All she knew of such things had come from the ancient being who had taught her the shaper arts, an ancient and haggard being now long dead. How could the gods, who were not real anyway, be watching her now. The raspy voice of her tutor seemed to growl at her from times long passed...
Blasphemy everywhere. They can deny and scorn, frantically point out other paths, but that does not make their claims any more true. Yun Yuuzhan will have his due and the slayer shall ride forth across the ages to drag the wayward children home...
She shuddered as the wind finally found its way through the trees to ruffle the bottom of her robe causing her to hug her arms around her sides. She moved to the path that led into a deeper part of the forest but hesitated. More samples would not give her any more answers nor would they expand her knowledge. Nothing could be shaped here without the interference of the planets itself. While others were content to leave their defense in the hands solely of Sekot, Menzine wasn't so sure. Surely the evolution of their species was dependent on scientific development, something that was dependent itself on experimentation. What was the point of her if she could not study and learn.
Because this place is a font of heresy. The Gods no longer whisper blessings on your efforts. There can be no progress here, child...
The voice seemed to drift on the wings of the wind, neither memory nor hallucination, but merely truth. She could not deny the sense they made nor could she bring herself to want to leave this place. It was beautiful here. Peaceful, serene, but not stimulating. She felt like she was stagnating, her mind succumbing to atrophy as it was neglected. She frowned and stumbled to a halt at the thought, fear and concern rising up in her. Her eight fingers on her right hand curled, the last gift of Gensov Lah, the shaper hand that allowed her such deft manipulation. Her headdress writhed, another affection granted by her hidden knowledge, as the link between her brain and the snake-like appendages alerted them to her concern.
"Menzine...?"
The uttering of her name made her gasp in surprise as she whirled to face the speaker. A short female Yuuzhan Vong of slight build peered at her nervously from the corner of the Grashal, a slight frown marring her sloping head. Menzine adopted a look of annoyance, dispelling her previous train of thought.
"Yem... I wish you wouldn't startle me so."
The complaint was a common one, becoming almost ritualistic between them. The younger female was always appearing silently out of the forests, startling Menzine as she worked on her experiments. The girl had been so absorbed with Menzines work, so devoted, that the shaper had taken her on as a lab assistant of sorts, showing her things she felt safe in divulging. Yem lived among the Ferroans and other Yuuzhan Vong after all and it wouldn't do to have others come poking around. The thought made her smile. As if Sekot didn't know what she studied...
"I am taking no samples today, child."
There was a hint of sadness in her voice that told her that, deep down, a decision had been made. The tone was not lost on Yem either, the girls eyebrow raising as she moved closer, stepping around the curve of the Grashal and standing before her elder.
"I am afraid I have come to the end of my time here."
What surprised her was the total lack of surprise on Yems face. Instead there was a steely determination that caused Menzine to take a step back. Yem was silent for a moment before she spoke in a quiet voice, little more than a whisper.
"Take me with you. I know almost as much as you do about the infidel galaxy and can help you when you get there..."
Menzine gasped at her choice of words, looking around surreptitiously in case someone had heard. A stupid concern really considering the sentinel beetles she had managed to shape in defence of her home.
"Yem! That is not a term to be thrown around lightly. Those times are gone and led our race to ruin."
Yems face twisted into a snarl and she shook her head grimly.
"It was a lack of strength and the heretical movement that led our race to ruin, Menzine, nothing else. I have heard the old ones talking, the old warriors. I can still feel the whisper of the Gods."
Her face set defiantly, causing Menzine to sigh. Such zeal in one so young, such naive faith...
But is she wrong?
No probably not, she thought sadly. Whether the Gods still existed or not, whether the glory of the Yuuzhan Vong was right or wrong, the simple matter of fact issue was that this wasn't the place for her. Her future lay out their, among the so-called infidels. She set her shoulders and reached out a hand to place it on Yems shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze.
"Very well. Be ready to go at sun set."
Yem smiled at the inclusion yet soon that smile faded into a frown.
"How will we get off the planet?"
It was now Menzines turn to flash a soft smile.
"You will see..."
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Menzine
Member
Posts: 20
Affiliation: Shaper Arts
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Post by Menzine on Mar 11, 2015 17:41:03 GMT -8
The rain thundered down from the heavens, a steady deluge that soaked everything beneath it with a ferocity that was not unlike the wrath of some tearful god. No weather on Zonama Sekot was random, the tropical monsoon the surely the doing of Sekot as it sought to nourish the planet that was its charge, using its intricate control to fashion whatever the planet needed to flourish and thrive. The Tampasi seemed to shiver in delight as they absorbed the needed moisture while other biots and creature came forth to bask in the life giving liquid. Not all life on Zonama was happy with the rain. Avian creatures huddled in trees, their feathers leaden and waterlogged, unable to take flight due to their excess weight. Some mammals sought burrows, or were flushed out of said burrows as the downpour flooded rivers and streams. Yet for every creature inconvenienced more were content with the circumstances. Aquatic creatures thrived as did the amphibious, with predators finding opportunity where before pickings had been slim. It was the vegetation that benefited the most, seeming to thrive before the very eyes of those that sought to look, Sekots precise timing doing wonders for growth and sustenance.
Menzine was one of those that was unhappy with the thorough soaking she was getting as she made her way down the winding path between towering trees. She grumbled constantly at the state of affairs, her headdress hanging limply to either side of her head. With a Sclipune containing the more sensitive of her shaping tools in her right hand and a formless sack over her left shoulder, she carried everything she could feasibly take with her as she departed the world that had been her residence for almost two years. Her residence but never really her home...
The path she walked veered down sharply and she heard Yem stumble behind her. The younger Yuuzhan Vong had even less to bring that she had, merely the clothes on her back and a small q'et containing a few possessions. What amused Menzine most was the fact that the young girl had found a coufee somewhere and seem to have adopted a fierce frown that was likely her image of what one of their warriors would have on their faces. The fact that the coufee was limp and unresponsive in this place didn't seem to deter her and Menzine admitted that once off of Zonama she would probably be able to get the creature to behave in the way in which it was created.
With water dripping from the bottoms of their robeskins the shaper finally parted some branches to look down at the shallow lake before them. She heard Yem's gasp as she came up alongside her mentor, mouth hanging open in surprise.
Below the forests gave way before them, receding on every side to surround a flat oval plain in the center of which sat a circular lake of murky water. Like some of the attempt Menzine had made to grow biots at other sites the lake was surrounded by green and purple vines that snaked their way from the surrounding Tampasi to feed the lake with nutrients. Unlike some of the other sites, sites that Yem had visited, this was on a far larger scale and far more successful it seemed. In the center of the pool rose a streamlined shape of Yorik Coral, its organic surface rippling as the rain beat down upon it. While Sekot had made every attempt to forestall any subversion of the life cycle here it was still devoted to seeing every life form that was a part of the ecosystem thrive. Menzine had been forced to adapt her shaper arts to run alongside the will of Sekot in growing her creatures, instead of draining nutrients from nearby sources she encouraged them to share. The results were longer in coming but promising.
Other things grew out of the water, leathery balls about the size of a humanoid head, as well as a black, pulsating, heart-like creature nearer the shore. The water was still, the only sign of like the occasional pulse of one of the tendrils, or the slow throb of the strange black oval.
"I could not get any form of weaponry to grow but the Dovin Bassal and Villip works just fine."
Her voice was hushed, as if she feared to wake the sleeping biots below. Her eight-fingered hand seemed to tap nervously against the shell of the Sclipune as she chewed her bottom lip in apprehension. She had knew this moment would come but now she was here she felt uncertain, a wave of doubt causing her head to furrow as she peered down at the path she had chosen.
She was aware of Yem stepping closer to her side, the girls eyes wide with fascination, her breath coming in short gasps of wonder. Her voice, when it came, was equally hushed and full of excitement and anticipation, so at odds with the near-terror Menzine herself felt.
"They're beautiful..."
Menzine turned her head, tearing her eyes off the scene below to look at her young charge, slightly surprised at the look of near-ecstasy on the girls face. She had expected excitement sure, maybe a little fear too, but this enthrallment was something else. Perhaps the Gods did truly have their eye on these endeavors, for only fanaticism could render one so... enraptured. So... dangerously drawn.
Shaking off the uneasy feeling and her trepidation she begun down the slope towards the lake, picking her way carefully around and over the nutrient tendrils. Yem followed almost in a trance, her feet falling where Menzines had seemingly of their own accord as her eye remained fixed on their destination. The ship itself was nothing like that engineered by the Yuuzhan Vong in the past. It most closely resembled, at least in size and shape, the Uumufalh gunships that had been a part of the Yuuzhan Vong fleet that assaulted the galaxy though it was only in these respects that they were alike. The influence of Sekot and the surroundings of Zonama had given the vessel a more ethereal aspect. Where the Vong vessels of old had been powerful, bulky affairs, this seemed lighter, more streamlined. The rough edges and outer skin of the Yorik Coral seemed smoother, more like the skin of a serpent, but that could just have been the rain beating down upon it. It sat in the meter-deep water, nose pointing towards the sky as if ready for the off.
Yem went straight to it, wading out into the water with a dreamy look on her face to press her hands against the side. Her lips moved as she whispered something, face breaking into a smile. Menzine went first to the oval black creature near the lakes edge, resting her hands on the smooth, slimy surface. The Dovin Bassal pulsed in response, its rudimentary intelligence recognising its creator. Deftly she pulled it from the vines that snaked around it, struggling as she guided it through the water.
"Yem... come help me with this..."
The younger girl turned to comply, helping Menzine guide it over to the ship. It was awkward ascending far enough to be able to place the Dovin Bassal in the nose of the ship, securing it in the snug housing that had been grown just for this purpose. Menzine watched with satisfaction as bit of Yorik Coral expanded and grew over the biots black surface, firmly gathering it into symbiotic harmony. Her voice was somewhat awed as she explained its function to Yem, trying to treat it like just one more lesson.
"The Dovin Bassal will both power the craft through flight and defend it against threats using gravitic anomalies."
Yem nodded as she slid back down to the water, her impact sending ripples spreading out that rocked the vines and tendrils that bobbed here and there on the surface. Slipping down next to her Menzine gestured towards the leathery balls that also bobbed in the wake of the waters disturbance.
"They are the Villips. They will help coordinate with the ship cognition hood and communications outside should we need them."
There were two of the communication devices, one the size of a mans head and one slightly smaller, not much bigger than a fist. Each woman gathered up on each and moved along to another strange-looking creature. The water around it was stained with orange and there was a scent of rust surrounding it. The creature itself looked like a flattened version of a Villips with small pincers protruding from its sides.
Menzine coaxed it off of the vine upon which it clung and allowing it to settle on her forearm.
"Lastly the Oggzil so we can communicate with unbelievers who stain themselves with lifeless machines."
The look of horror and disgust was plain on Yems face at the mention of such profanities even though she had been exposed to such devices all her life. She really seemed to be taking her new devotion seriously, much to Menzines concern. The shaper was too much a scientist to let religious zealotry to cloud her thinking but Yem was young and naive, perhaps becoming a bit unstable in her devotion...
Still, there was no turning back now as they made their way towards their vessel. A hatch opened like a mouth, yawning asunder to reveal a warm, pulsing interior. Menzine boarded without hesitation but Yem paused, finally a look of fear on her innocent face. Menzine paused just inside the threshold and turned to face her, her face a mask of understanding.
"This is your last chance to change your mind, child. The path I have chosen will not be one of safety or comfort. We will be scorned everywhere we go for the acts of our kin long ago. We may even be killed out of hand by some. Spare yourself that as I wish I could."
The girls reply was immediate and certain, if a little quiet.
"No..." She swallowed and repeated, louder this time. "No. I want to come with you. This place isn't my home, even if it is Yuuzhan'tar. This place has been abandoned by the Gods and is not a place for the chosen of Yun'Yuuzhan."
The shaper studied her a moment longer, head tilted to the sides. She could leave her here. The would render her uncoscious, likely leaving her lacking a memory of what transpired. As soon as the focus of the efforts in the lake departed the area would return to normal, the vines and nutrients being absorbed back into the natural ecosystem leaving only the depression in the land and the lack of trees. The lake would disappear and eventually the trees would also return, depending on Sekots plan. She could leave the foolish young girl behind and spare such responsibility. Her arm tensed as she pondered but something stayed her hand. Finally she bobbed her head in a nod.
"Very well."
She turned and made her way up the ship, the strange vertical position making it awkward to get to the cockpit. Once there she dropped into a seat that conformed itself to her body, fleshy appendage that was the cognition hood snaking down to bond with her head. The snakelike creature of her headdress seemed to entwine with their counterparts within the cognition hood and suddenly her senses were afire. Pain roared through her taking her aback a little and she gasped heavily. Then her senses exploded outwards with frightening accuracy. Her skin was now Yorik Coral nearly fifty meters of it, her eyes now tracking targets several kilometers away. She was the ship, merged and bonded, able to make it dance should she whistle a tune.
It was more sense that she noted Yem place the larger of the two Villips in the little niche that was grown for just such a purpose and she commanded to Oggzil to take its own place on the Villip. She could feel the Dovin Bassals eagerness to be off. To test its power and fulfil the role for which it was grown. As Yem took her seat next to her Menzine sent mental commands throughout the ship, severing connections to the planet that had nursed it for so long. Finally free the ship bucked like a frolicsome Quednak, rearing in its efforts to spread its legs. With a mental command Menzine sent it spiralling skywards, her hand guiding it through the glove-like growth it had produced for the purpose.
The elegant craft tore from the ground like a firefly, its hull glistening in the furious rain. Bits of debris fell away from it as it shook out its skin for the first time, stretching itself as it sought its perfect balance. Spiralling skywards it curved and banked, as if the pilot were seeking to get a feel for how it flew, or maybe even the ship itself testing its own limits. Finally it settled onto a steady course and rocketed skywards, leaving the planet that birthed it behind.
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Hlif Falung
Member
Priest of The True Form
Posts: 11
Affiliation: The True Form
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Post by Hlif Falung on Jul 31, 2017 12:55:11 GMT -8
Hlif Falung raised her hands in a gesture of benediction over the motley crowd of Yuuzhan Vong gathered before her. Many were workers and priests, but others were shame-faced warriors. Their battle-scarred forms, from old war-wounds and a multitude of sacrifices pained her heart. This heresy must be cleared away and our shame lifted at last. It has been too long.
“Let me tell you, my brothers and sisters, of our Old Times. The history that so many of our priests have hidden from us until the Great Shame stripped away so many secrets.”
“You know that we are all born of Yun-Yuuzhan, our great creator, who gave of his parts and created the Yun’o, who in turn shape and guide us lesser ones. We lived a peaceful existence, sure of our place in the galaxy, at one with life. We embraced the pain of living, and sought to rise to the standards the Yun’o held out to us. Yun-Harla gifted us with wisdom and mischief, Yun-Ne'Shel shaped us to our True Form, Yun-Txiin and Yun-Q'aah brought us love and the gift of creating new life. And, yes, Yun-Shuno’te countless eyes watched over us all, granting healing and pardon.”Her gestures seemed to conjure a vision of those days before their eyes, filled with softness and grace.
Abruptly, she cut across the peace with a slash of her hands. “On one dark day, our people were attacked by a mechanical people from beyond the stars. To save us from annihilation, Yun-Yuuzhan granted the Yun’o more shaping secrets, to allow us to shape ourselves for war. Yes, then our amphistaffs, once tools for household tasks, were formed into weapons. Our bodies were shaped into warriors, our beasts of burden into chargers for battle.”
The crowd shuffled and moaned, a ripple of fear and anger flashing in their eye pouches. They remembered this part of the tale, told time and again by the priests of Yun-Yammka. Hlif paused, letting the anger fade.
“Yes, the battle was fierce and our people almost died. But, we are the children of Yun-Yuuzhan! With the guidance of the Yun’o and the gifts of Yun-Yuuzhan, we were saved.” The crowd growled in approval and pride. However, she could see the resentment in their hunched stances. Why had the gods cast them off now?
“Despite our victory, our hearts were plagued with fear. What if the metal ones returned? Our ancestors spread out into the galaxy, and purged it of all the metal ones who take life. They brought all living races into the way of the Yun’o, and shaped them to greatness. One day, they would have become gods themselves, and the Yun’o would rise to the place of Yun-Yuuzhan. It is the way of life - to grow, and to escalate.” She raised her hands to the heavens, and paused, reverent. She could almost feel the touch of Yun-Ne'Shel on her body, forming her words.
She turned to the crowd and stared them down, letting the rage and sadness of the Yun’o fill her heart and her face. “However, our fear ate our hearts, and we strayed from the Yun’o.” The people moaned and began to claw at their arms and chests, expressing shock and anger.
“Our people became hungry for war. We had created a warrior caste and devised a false god for these ones - Yun-Yammka, the slayer. His lust for blood and war could never be sated, and to die in peace and return to Yun-Yuuzhan, as had always been our way, became shamed.” she hissed.
“This heresy spread amongst all our people, and the warriors were unable to return to peace. In the end, when we had no other races left to fight, we turned on ourselves, and on Yuuzhan’tar itself.”
“Our devotion to this false god led us to the greatest crime of all - we killed our world, our home, our creator: Yuuzhan’tar, Yun-Yuuzhan.” She clawed at her face in disgust, in disgrace, in despair.
“We killed Yun-Yuuzhan with the very gifts he gave us to preserve life.”
The crowd was filled with shame and fear. Many had heard the whispers of this tale, spoken quietly by the many priests who did not worship Yun-Yammka. Even some of the priests of Yun-Yammka had expressed doubts. Now, to hear it spoken publically, they could no longer deny the truth of their past.
“This is why we have been cast off. This is our true Shame.” Hlif wailed. “We are all Shamed Ones!”
The crowd erupted into growls and hisses of deep shame and revulsion in turn. Her words had found their mark, touching the doubts and fears of every Yuuzhan Vong mind.
“As long as we allow this heresy, this disgusting devotion to a false deity who led us to murder our own, and kill our father, our giver of life, of form, we will always be Shamed Ones. Our people will never achieve our True Form, our gods will abandon us to the whims of the galaxy, other races will trample us into the dust, mechanical ones will herd us from the skies. We have been reduced to mere fleas clinging to Zonama Sekot’s back, at its mercy, rather than shapers of life as we were meant to be.”
“Set this ‘slayer’ aside! It is no god! It is a false dream, a curse, a slayer of our own people! And return to our Yun’o, the True Ones. Yun-Shuno will heal our shame, Yun-Harla will grant us wisdom to learn new ways, Yun-Txiin and Yun-Q'aah will grant us new lives to fill the void of what is lost, and Yun-Ne’Shel will then take us in her hands once more, and shape us into our True Form at last.”
Exhausted, Hlif said no more. She embraced the pain in her face and thin body, the trembling in her shaper hands, feeling the fragility and inner strength of her Form. She had done what the Yun'o instructed her, and now she knew her people would take matters into shaper's hands of their own.
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Suus Shul
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Post by Suus Shul on Jul 31, 2017 13:24:32 GMT -8
The crowd heaved under the weight of shame. Deep, growling roars and bellows of loss rolled. Workers pummeled their hardened frames and that of their neighbor’s too with gnarled hands, with a ritualistic rhythm. The other castes had already joined in, Intendants scathing their thighs, left first, right next. Warriors gouged their tattooed skin. The priests each had their separate, special mourning rites. There had been gatherings of mourners shortly after their ignoble defeat, lasting days, but that had been the early days. The gravity of their despair had not yet seeded. For years, a terrible malaise had choked them like a weed and now it finally had finally torn away.
The soil of the living planet ran with black blood.
Together with the few remaining members of his domain, Suus flayed himself, screaming into heavens, disgusted with his fellows and that wretched frame of his which had fallen so far from the True Form.
The bloodletting frenzy was escalating, roiling and focussing onto a single point:
“Death to the slayer! Death, death, death! Death to the slayer…”
As one, the group began edging forward. It was no accident that Hlif’te denouncement speech had been given not far from the temple of Yun-Yammka; a hideous structure, wreathed in tentacles and draped the blood sacrifices and limbs of escalated warriors. This was where priest, intendant and worker had looked to for protection and now they saw it for what it was: a cruel joke, a snare that strangled the life of their people and an abomination. Moving against this temple was an act of supreme courage, breaking not only the boundaries of their castes but striking against a god, one they had feared for centuries. The Yuuzhan Vong had destroyed their galaxy, traveled the void between the galaxies, been humbled by defeat - but never had they dared to knowingly strike their own gods down.
The horde found themselves inside, gazing at the enormous beast within, transfixed by its terrifying presence. Uncertainty began to creep in.
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Hlif Falung
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Priest of The True Form
Posts: 11
Affiliation: The True Form
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Post by Hlif Falung on Jul 31, 2017 13:37:51 GMT -8
Hlif limped into the temple, just another figure in the surging crowd. As they hesitated, she staggered forward, feeling a rush of pure exhilaration ripping through her veins. At last, the slayer becomes the slain.
She saw her people falter, uncertain. The conditioned fear of the “slayer” held them back still, even in the face of all proof of his falsehood. She raised her eyes again to the heavens and slashed at her arms as she walked forward, purging her heart of any fear.
“Yun-Yammka feeds on blood, does he? Let him sup mine and die of bitterness!” she cried, pushing forward through the crowd, the black of her blood gashing the white and green of her robes. They parted before her, and she strode forward.
“The Yun’o showed me the way. Yun-Harla herself has denied this false brother, he is nothing and never was. Purge this place, and purge yourself of shame.” She extended a sharpened blade finger from her hands, a tool to cut and shape. Now she would cut away the rot from her people, like diseased flesh from a limb.
With frenzied sweeps and screams of rage, she slashed apart the tentacles clinging to the wall behind her. Black blood mingled with sap, and rotting remains thudded to the ground around her.
She could feel the tremor in the crowd. She snarled at their fear, lips baring teeth and pulled back far below her non-existent nose. “Why do you fear? This mere dream did not strike down our enemies, did he, even when we faced certain destruction? And yet you whimper before this nothingness!”
“Prove yourself a True Child of Yun-Yuuzhan, O’Slayer! Strike me down!” She raised her hands wide to the skies, tangled in the shredded tentacles of the temple’s flesh. Her body shook with laughter as seconds passed...and nothing happened.
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Suus Shul
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Post by Suus Shul on Aug 1, 2017 8:11:28 GMT -8
Hushed, pregnant silence faded with a rising buzz. Hlif had thrown down the gauntlet, challenging the slayer himself and he now appeared to be cowed by her brazen display. Even the priests that tended to Yun-Yammka were thunderstruck. They hesitated and the crucial second had passed - the shame and fear that beat in the heart of all those present bled away.
Anger rushed to fill the vacuum. Suus’ Amphistaff unfurled, filling his hand almost of its own accord and he brought it slashing down, toppling one of the nearest shrines. The rest joined in, ripping tentacles from the altar of Yun-Yammka with their bare hands. It felt as if only a few moments had passed, but already the forecourt of the temple had been reduced to tatters. Haloed ornaments, relics and the sacrifices of devotees were mangled, crushed and discarded without ceremony. The desecration of the temple was done with a fevered zeal that was almost unlike anything that they had done before, not in the Invasion, nor in all the time spent on their homeworld.
Suus’ Amphistaff buckled in his hand as he hacked through one of the containment tanks, flooding the halls in ankle-deep brine, that stank of the thousands of sacrifices dipped into the slayer’s holding pen. The stench turned even his stomach. He staggered back and surveyed the carnage. Soon, there would be nothing to remind them of this false god and its lies. After their failure and the humiliating peace treaty, thousands of warriors had chosen to die, rather than endure the daily shame of having been degraded so. How was the slayer above any of this? After failing the children of the Yun’o’te, the only role this so-called ‘slayer’ could have would be the god of defeat.
The workers dug out the chamber membranes with nothing but their fingernails and fury, and let it topple into the nearby fields. The former priests of Yun-Yammka were rounded up in the center of the temple, forced to kneel and restrained from being able to honorably kill themselves. Worse still, they faced death at the hands of the shamed ones, who clearly were enjoying their torment and their moment of escalation.
“...the many eyed forgiver has seen your heresies and given us the right, the power to strike your worthless form down. Death to the slayer..."
“Hold your tempers! Watch yourself - don’t let their heresy taint you too and force me to strike you down.” He barked at the worker before he could gut the priest. “These priests will have the opportunity to answer for their heresy and receive forgiveness for their sins.”
And it was no accident that these particular priests were stationed at the temple. Liang Dei, the slayer priest, was one of the many that Suus had identified as a die-hard adherent, who cynically clung to Yun-Yammka only for power. The others with him were those too inflexible to admit that change was needed, such as Jio Pul, whose eyesacks now pulsed wildly when faced with this new reality. They had agreed to meet with him at the temple on the eve of the 23rd cycle, the eve that the Yuuzhan Vong entered this godforsaken galaxy, to plot their return. And their return would be very different indeed.
The Yuuzhan Vong needed no god of defeat. They would never be defeated again.
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Hlif Falung
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Priest of The True Form
Posts: 11
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Post by Hlif Falung on Aug 11, 2017 13:31:58 GMT -8
Hlif had wondered what she would feel at this moment, when it finally came. Now it was here, the false priests cowering in the corpse of their broken temple, their heresy laid bare for all to see, but she felt, not so much triumph as sadness. Was it really necessary that so many suffered and died for this foolishness before it ended?
She reached out, and into, the deepest part of her form. Beyond the pain and sadness, she could hear the murmurings of the Yun-o themselves: Fear not, little priestess. This is the way it must be. Your people have had to travel far, and the struggle is not ended... yet, the True Form is not so far away.
She slowly approached the shivering priests of the false Yun-Yammka. The baying crowd was being held back by Suus and a small number of their fellow seekers, both Priests and Intendants, and a few of the Shaper caste. She pushed her way through the workers, feeling their rage and anguish. They had suffered too long, had been lost for too long. This was raw material indeed. Could they really be saved, after straying so far?
You are still his children, however broken. Bring them back together: the head, the arms, the thighs, the feet of Yun-Yuuzhan. They will hear us once again, little one, and then Yun-Yuuzhan will be born once more. You will no longer be orphans, lost children. Be strong, seek The Form.
“Priests of Yun-Yammka, the false god,” her voice came out strong but hoarse with emotion. “Your so-called Slayer has become the Slain. We need no god of war, nor false leader in defeat. This god was a lie, a trick to lead a falsely divided caste, the Warrior caste, that was not of Yun-Yuuzhan’s form, into death and destruction. You, the priests, bear the guilt of this heresy.” The mob rumbled dangerously, but she raised a hand and waited for silence to fall once more.
“Yet, you too are Yun-Yuuzhan’s children - you too are Yuuzhan Vong. Your life is part of the form, however corrupted you have become. However corrupted we ALL have become.” She looked around at the gathered people, and they flinched from her stare. “Yes, all of us. We must seek forgiveness, and put aside this heresy. Now, priests: deny this false god before us all, pray forgiveness of the Yun’o, and join your brothers and sisters in seeking the True Form of Yun-Yuuzhan, the True Form of our people. Our broken bones will be knit strong, our wandering hearts will settle and become strong, and our people will draw together, united once more.”
Liang Dei shook himself free and pushed forward. He spat at her. “Pretty words, fool. The Slayer has granted us much glory and kept our people safe. Were it not for Yun-Yammka, the metal abominations would have destroyed our people centuries past!” He glared around at the gathered crowd. “He will strike you down for what you have done!” Liang Dei gouged at his chest, ripping away chunks of flesh in ritual mutilation. “How dare you, mere Workers and Shapers, raise your hands to the Slayer himself!”
Hlif leapt forward and, with her partially tendrilled fingers, seized the head spikes that arrayed Liang Dei’s grotesque face. Tendrils stabbed inward, paralysing him, causing his face to tremble like the strings of a crab-harp.
She hauled him forward with all her strength, thrusting his face out into the watching crowd. “See, the Yuuzhan Vong! Each part is precious, each part is worthless, and each is powerful in the Form. From the head, the priests with eyes to see and ears to hear. From the arms, the Intendants to lead and empower with wisdom and cunning. From the thighs, the Shapers, to create and craft and bring to birth. From the feet, the Workers, to give our Form speed and power, to work and carry. Without any of these things, the body will fall.” She could see the eyes of the crowd brighten at her words.
“Tell me, Liang Dei.” She pulled his face back to hers, snarling into his quivering, tattooed cheeks. “Who crafted the weapons your warriors wielded?” Liang Dei gaped at her, lost for words. Hlif turned back to the crowd. “Who crafted the weapons that saved our people from the machines?”
The shapers in the crowd cried out “The Shapers! With the gifts of Yun-Ne'Shel!”
“And reveal to me, Liang Dei: Who planted and tended the lives that fed your warriors?”
“The Workers!” roared the crowd, drumming the ground with their flattened, hardened feet.
Hlif smiled broadly, showing jagged teeth and a bitten tongue. “Answer me this riddle, false priest: Who organised our great fleets? Who used wisdom and cunning to provision your warriors? Who spied out the land and learnt the secrets of other peoples, so that your warriors knew how to strike?”
“The Intendants!” Suus and the other Intendants bellowed in reply.
“And us, the priests, born to guide the body in truth, to draw our people to the Yun-o. So, false priest. What are your warriors without the body of Yun-Yuuzhan to support it? Why do you try to mislead it with your lies?”
She hauled him upright and shoved him roughly out into the midst of the crowd, her headdress shuddering with disgust and anger. “Repent, Liang Dei, or face your judgement.”
“Never!” He snarled, striking at the crowd as they pushed closer to him. “You shall not strike me down! Yun-Yammka shall grant me an honourable death!” As he drew a coufee eel from a fold in his robes and made to eviscerate himself, one of the surviving warriors in the crowd surged forward and seized his hand, yanking the dagger away. Thwarted, Liang Dei screamed at the warrior to release him.
The heavily scarred warrior bared his teeth in the priest’s face. “No, false priest. Your heresy sent millions of our people to our graves. Your lies ripped us ‘warriors’ away from the Form of Yun-Yuuzhan. What would I have been born to be, were it not for the likes of you? Yun-Yammka lead us to shameful defeat, and is torn down. You too, should die in disgrace.”
Casting aside the coufee blade, the warrior took hold of the priest’s shoulder in one hand, and his wrist with the other. He planted his foot on the side of Liang Dei’s head and with a mighty wrenching, twisting heave, he ripped the priest’s arm away, trailing shards of bone and streams of black blood. Liang Dei screamed in an anguish that was not of the Yun’o, but the cries of a stricken beast, the wails of a pathetic mewling spawn.
He didn’t scream for long.
The crowd surged forward at last, and Liang Dei disappeared in a sea of black stained hands and tattooed backs, a shuddering frenzy of destruction.
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Menzine
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Posts: 20
Affiliation: Shaper Arts
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Post by Menzine on Aug 11, 2017 17:02:03 GMT -8
She had watched in silence from beyond the gathered crowd, leaning in the meager shadows afforded by a grashal that serviced the temple in some form or another. The speaker was good, she noted grudgingly. Starting with a common point, a story they had all heard from childhood, she was drew the listeners with her along her narrative effortlessly, fostering kinship and shared history. The poise and tone were both carefully measured for the dramatic impact of the words to be delivered. The crowd was hers now, the blasphemies swallowed whole by the mindless, the weak, and despair-ridden, all of them happy for any kind of release from the pathetic existence they had wallowed in for so long. As the speaker moved into the temple Menzine joined the tail-end of the crowd, the hood of her cloak pulled up to cover the headdress that identified her as of the Shaper Caste. She was bustled a little as the crowd moved along, cringing as Shamed Ones bumped her with their filthy deformities, and managed to enter the main hall just as the speaker denounced Yun Yammka and stood there awaiting divine justice. Menzine couldn't help but flinch slightly, even her previous heretical endeavors nothing compared to outright challenging The Slayer. Still, when nothing occurred and the woman continued Menzine couldn't help but smile slightly under her hood. It was always her belief that the Slayers bark had always been worse than his bite. Centuries of social conditioning making all the castes flinch at the mere mention of his name. It was in the best interests of the Warrior Caste to perpetrate such madness and, as the woman moved towards the priest, Menzine had to concede that she had a point.
She had began to back away as the crowd grew violent, tearing at the idols and devotions to Yun Yammka. One crazed Shamed One seized at her arm, eyes wide from fanatic zeal, the scars covering his face grotesque as he screwed up his face in apparent ecstasy. His words came out on a garbled frenzy, his malformed lips unable to properly form the words and colouring the speech with a horrific lisp.
"Deathhh tho the Thlayer!" He screamed as he tried to drag Menzine back towards where the chaos ensure. "We willth be three of hith yoke!"
She had no choice, She couldn't twist free, could't resist. He was bigger and, despite his deformities, much stronger. This Shamed One had been a Warrior judging by his scars and tattoo's. A ferocious mash-up that gave his features a demonic aspect. With a sharp flick of her wrist she free her hand from the cloaks confined, eight elegant fingers unfolding menacingly. The index finger arched as he hand rose, the nail a single needle protruding forth. With a rapid movement the finger flicked out to plunge the needle into the Shamed Ones cheek, withdrawing just as quickly as it appeared back beneath the robe. The Shamed one gave a startled look for a moment, the surprise fading to anger before changing abruptly back to shock. Words began but faded into a choked gargles as froth appeared on the lips. The hand holding Menzine rose to clutch at the throat allowing her to back away. This poison was a new concoction of hers and she kept her eyes fixed on the man as she continued to back away, interested in its potency when applied in the field. The face had now gone as blue as the sacks beneath the eyes and people were now noticing the stricken man. Unwilling to risk exposure and annoyed that she could watch the results further Menzine Kwaad moved towards the temple entrance, hearing the words of the speaker as she addressed the priests.
As Menzine left the temple to the sounds of the scream, her face twisted in scorn. The speaker had stated that Yun Yammka was a lie but Menzine took it further still. All the Gods were a lie. She believed in science and in science she could trust. The so called Eight Cortex was merely the transcending of science beyond that of theological grounding, pushing beyond the barriers that had long stunted the growth of the Yuzhaan Vong. As she stopped near the grashal she had stood next to earlier, turning to watch the crowd of idiots, she could not keep the disdain from her face.
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Hlif Falung
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Priest of The True Form
Posts: 11
Affiliation: The True Form
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Post by Hlif Falung on Aug 13, 2017 12:52:19 GMT -8
Jun An, a young and fairly recently appointed priest of Yun Harla, found himself beating his bloodied knuckles on the ground and walls with ecstasy as the unrepentant false priest, Liang Dei, was ripped to pieces by the crowd. He was too far back to take part himself, but the gory sounds of the purge lifted his spirits nonetheless.
He'd heard the whispering of this Day of Reckoning, of course. It had been a long time coming, but it had happened at last.
It had taken some years for the truth of Shimrra and the lies about Yun-Yammka to filter through the population as a whole. In the wake of their horrific and sudden defeat, the suicide of so many warriors and entire fleets, their social structure and communication links had largely broken down. In the face of this defeat at the hand of the infidels and their forced relocation to the living world, Zonama Sekot, the faith of many had wavered. Many had no idea of the falseness of one god and mistakenly began to accept what their conquerors told them: that all the Yun’o were a lie.
He had felt such relief when he finally heard the truth of their defeat. Few witnesses had survived, but they existed, and a number of the priests had come forward and confessed their complicity in the deception.
Not these priests, though. He clawed the air in a gesture of disgust as first one priest, then another, was hauled up by Hlif before the crowd. Many confessed and begged forgiveness, the sickly pallor of their eye sacks revealing their cowardice and shame. One or two were defiant, calling out to Yun-Yammka for protection and an honourable death.
Their god did not reply. Their blood pooled black on the ground and sprayed the faces and limbs of those who tore them apart.
The Yun’o are true. It is we Yuuzhan Vong who had strayed from their protection, not they that abandoned us.
Painful though it was to realize that much of what he had always believed, such as his beloved Yun-Harla being one of twins, was based on a lie, it was infinitely easier to swallow than the bitter poison that all the Yun’o were nothing but a dream. The truth may have become a delusion, but there was truth in it yet. They had only to strip away the diseased flesh to reveal the healthy core below.
He was distracted from the scene of destruction by a subtle stirring in the crowd near him. One male, apparently a Shamed One, had collapsed to the ground, twitching and moaning. Jun pushed smoothly through to the fallen one, using commanding gestures and his persuasive voice to urge his fellows to let him through. They parted like a swarm of dhillith before a hunting radank.
He waved back those who had started to gather and knelt by the Shamed One’s side. To Jun An’s horror, the Shamed One had already died. His scarred and horribly deformed body, clearly once that of a devoted warrior, was further distorted by his dying agony, and his mangled face, cleft lips parted and tongue lolling, had turned a peculiar shade of blue.
Jun An immediately looked around sharply at the faces of the Yuuzhan Vong around him. This could be the work of only two: one of the priestly Assassin sect, or a Shaper. Either way, it meant grave danger, but he could see no one close but Warriors, Workers and Shamed Ones. Jun An swiftly rolled the body onto its side to hide its face, positioning it as though for recovery. He then removed his dark brown robe and covered the body, leaving the face clear - as though sheltering someone sick, not dead. Hopefully, this would hide the truth of what had happened for a few more moments. He made a silent plea to Yun-Harla.
Yun-Harla, guide my trickery, that I might save my brothers and sisters!
If the impressionable, and naturally fearful Warriors and Workers saw that one had mysteriously died, they might mistakenly think this was the work of Yun-Yammka and lose all heart. Jun An could not allow that to happen. This was a murder, not the work of a god!
“You, Savant!” he gestured at one younger member of the Priest Caste nearby. “Triff Yen, correct?” The younger male nodded his blood-painted face eagerly. “Go to Suus of Domain Shul, the Intendant.” Triff’s head tipped back stiffly in an attitude of nervous surprise and pride at being asked to approach such a senior figure. “Tell him we have a Shamed One seriously injured, and he needs to send trusted ones to tend to him immediately. Go!” The Savant pushed headlong into the crowd, determined to make a good impression and earn honour. Good. May Yun-Harla grant that Suus understands my message.
Jun An made a show of tending to the body as though alive, urging others to give him room and not be concerned. What accursed one did this thing?
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Menzine
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Posts: 20
Affiliation: Shaper Arts
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Post by Menzine on Aug 16, 2017 17:09:29 GMT -8
The crowd had continued to bay and howl for blood as the temple to Yun Yammka was torn down, her priests cast down from the lofty heights they had once held. Most of them remained defiant and staunch in their beliefs and were summarily executed for their troubles. Menzine struggled for a moment as to whether it was a good death, one worthy of honour, but with her dented belief she marked it down as merely pointless. The crowd, to her surprise, had remained vaguely in control throughout the bloodletting, content to follow the lead of the one who had spoken earlier. Such was the organisation that Menzine became sure that there was more going on behind the scenes. Perhaps agents of those pushing this 'True Form' agenda saturated the crowd, inciting the appropriate reactions when needed. Suddenly Menzine didn't feel as safe or certain as she had done a moment ago, regretting her foray into the press of unwashed bodies. He skin still crawled from the touch of the Shamed One, an unshakable feeling of being unclean sinking into her very core. She glanced around nervously but nobody seemed to be paying any mind to the direction in which she stood, all eyes still firmly fixed upon the temple. Still, the body of the shamed one had surely be found by now and suspicions arisen as to the manner of said death.
"Phahg..."
She pretty much spat the curse word under her breath, marking herself a fool for coming here. Her curiosity had gotten her in trouble in the past. Both Belkadan and Varonat had ended badly because she hadn't been able to stem the tide of her questioning mind, always having to poke her eight-finger hand in whatever piqued her interest with little regard for tact or propriety. Pulling her hood a little further over her face she glanced around quickly again before turning and making her way along the side of the grashal, away from the crowd.
Five minutes later and she was among the Tampasi, gazing up at the towering Bora's that stretched to the silver-blue sky above. Such was the density of the forest that she could see nothing of the sky, merely the ambient glow that seemed to exude from the fauna itself. A calmness came across her as it always did when she moved alone through the Tampasi, though her tumultuous thoughts kept actual peace of mind at bay. The disturbing scenes at the temple, as well as the haunting words from the speaker, stuck in her mind making her question several fundamental philosophies. Her view of the Gods had long been under assault by a galaxy that seemed to do okay without them. The priests would claim that the infidels did the work of the Gods without even knowing it but Menzine had long since lost faith in that notion. Even the rhetoric proposed by the champion of the True Form back there seemed a far fetched stretch, just another attempt to control the mindless masses in need of someones else's yoke upon them. No. Menzine had been done following blindly some time again and she was fast beginning to come to the conclusion that following at all was a foolish endeavor.
It took her about twenty minutes to make her way back to the river. One of the many tributaries that fed the rivers near the equator, this was little more than a stream that moved sluggishly down towards where the water was more vibrant. It was said by the locals, a strange people knows as Ferroans, that the controlling mind known as Sekot could change the rainfall of the planet much that same way Shapers did on Yuuzhan Vong worldship and that then these little tributaries would become torrents. She mulled that over, looking around for signs that this little stream had in fact broke its banks, as she pulled the small raft from where she had secured it hours before. She smiled at the rustic way in which she moved around these days but any other mode of transportation would have arouse too much attention. With a deft flick of a pole she pushed the craft into the river and began making her way down stream.
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Ayeniner
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Post by Ayeniner on Jul 11, 2018 2:46:25 GMT -8
It had been too long since Tokin had surfed the blackness of the void. He had been shamed, quite publicly, when his invasion of the garden world of Dantooine had failed. He still served as advisor and Seer for the Gods but had fallen out of favour with the ruling echelon of the Yuuzhan Vong, as dreadful as the once-glorious Empire had become. He had long been waiting for the opportunity to gain power again, but there had been no such instances of worth presenting themselves. His Gods, who he worshipped daily, had seen fit to scorn him.
He would wait, continue his devotions and his sacrifices, until they bestowed upon him that which he deserved.
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Post by House of D'Ordinii on Jul 11, 2018 12:24:27 GMT -8
==A Pact of Crabs==
<<107 PP, F13 Sector, Zonama Sekot>>
The GR75 was very careful not to set down on the planet. It did, however, hover over the spot that was traditional for state or diplomatic visits from the Imperium and its predecessor states. The team that would wait had been carefully chosen in all respects. Not a single one of them had any technical implants of any kind. Additionally, they wore only simple organic fabrics. Finally, the entire team was lowered to the ground on a specially made wooden platform hung from hempen ropes. The team would wait, with the sleek black & red ship hovering above them, for as long as was required for the local government to respond to their presence.
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Ayeniner
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Post by Ayeniner on Jul 11, 2018 12:56:46 GMT -8
Tokin was not impressed. He had been despatched by the local district lord to attend to the abomination that had appeared over the cursed designated 'area'. It had been set up after the defeat of the Yuuzhan Vong to communicate with the outside world. It made the traditional Seer sick to the stomach to know that the once-proud master race had devolved so far. What was worse, those who mattered knew of his distaste of offworlders, and they still sent him to deal with the arrival.
He was not pleased, not at all.
The priest was tall and impressively built, as all of his race were. Taller than the average humanoid of the local galaxy, he sported scars and mutilations to show his piety. Some of his skull was even showing where he had sliced open his head. Tattoos covered the skin that was showing, and a creature best analogued as a cape flowed behind him. He had no fear, knowing that he was generally more than a match for the average person that visited the new homeworld of the Yuuzhan Vong.
He was also impressed at the lengths they had went to to try and appease the Yuuzhan Vong. The mechanical abomination hovered at a safe distance, and the visitors had been lowered via organic means. It was incredibly simple technology, unlike the divinely-inspired living creations of the master race, but Tokin preferred this to being in the presence of machines.
He approached and made his displeasure known with a feral growl. "What are you doing on our sacred world? You are tainting the very air with your presence, filth."
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Post by House of D'Ordinii on Jul 11, 2018 13:34:52 GMT -8
==A Pact of Crabs==
<<107 PP, F13 Sector, Zonama Sekot>>
The lead diplomat nodded. Like the Yuuzhan Vong he was both powerfully built & taller than average. All the diplomats in the group were. The Genies of Clan D'Ordinii showed signs, to those that knew the traits to look for, of being extensively genetically altered from their distance Zabrak stock. They also, for one reason or another sported visible scars. Some for decoration, worn like tattoos, others plainly from fights or even warfare. The Imperium well knew that what the Vong respected most was power.
-Frir
Your sacred world sits alone. Our people have been allies in the past. Now there are new threats in the galaxy. We offer a trade. We will return you to the stars & in return for being allies again. Or you can stay here to rot, as our enemies rain abominations on your world to strip it of all life.
While the Imperium had never manged to gain a full sweep of Yuuzhan Vong biotech, they had taken enough gene samples to have a good selection of the more common examples. But that wasn't how the Imperium could help. The one thing the Yuuzhan Vong lacked on this world, the thing that kept them locked here has raw mass. The living world provided for them, yes. But it was also careful to limit their resources to keep them from reflowering. The Imperium could provide that raw material. Areas to Vongform, vast amounts of raw biomatter to consume. In short the ability to restart their civilization.
It was true that the Mandalorians had nearly wiped out the Vong once, but the Imperium had taken no part in that struggle. Indeed they had help out on a few rare occassions, both before & afterward.
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Ayeniner
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Post by Ayeniner on Jul 12, 2018 4:28:02 GMT -8
As the Seer approached, the scars on the visitors became more apparent and although this did not engender him to them in the slightest, they had earned a little respect. Although when they talked they provided harsh truths, truths that would have any of his underlings executed for voicing aloud, Tokin found it hard to disagree with any of those points.
That irked him more. He was now agreeing with infidels? The Gods were surely punishing him for his failure at Dantooine. How this being knew Zonama's restraints and restrictions was interesting, but the Seer was much more intrigued by the offer, and the implied danger.
"You have no idea what you would be releasing if you help get the Yuuzhan Vong offworld. You would not be spared and - "
He stopped himself mid-sentence. Yes, he would prefer to lay waste to the galaxy in revenge and in the service of his glorious pantheon, but the Seer had not attained his rank through raw strength alone. He was adept at the political manoeuvrings of the remnant that called Sekot home. If he were to be the one who facilitated the restructure and restoration of Yuuzhan Vong society, he would quickly become Supreme Overlord. His domain would become the most influential, and he could wage holy war as he saw fit.
One question, yet unanswered, made him cautious. He voiced it now. "Why are you doing this? What do you get out of it?"
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Post by House of D'Ordinii on Jul 12, 2018 8:48:56 GMT -8
==A Pact of Crabs==
<<107 PP, F13 Sector, Zonama Sekot>>
Frir seemed to have expected this. Or at least he didn't betray any surprise from the Yuuzhan Vong's outburst.
-Frir
We are less different than you seem to think. We are considered outsiders by this galaxy nearly as much as you are. Though we have held our own for those long millennia. Our Overlord considers you fighters in a common cause. Or at least a related cause. As for being spared, the words of the agreement will prevent you from attacking us. If you ignore those words, we will return you to how we found you.
It was not an idle threat. The Yuuzhan Vong invasion had happened at one of the low points in Mandalorian culture, & it had still been pushed back. With the roles reversed & a much greater understanding of Vongtech, as well as great advances in their own tech. The chances that the Vong could spread enough to threaten the Imperium in the short term were fairly laughable. It would, however, be one great sucker punch to unleash on some unsuspecting foe down the line.
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Ayeniner
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Post by Ayeniner on Jul 12, 2018 9:28:23 GMT -8
Tokin knew an opportunity when he saw one. Whether these beings could carry out their threats or not was not of any immediate concern for the Seer, who did not plan to anger any benefactor if it mean some restoration of the Yuuzhan Vong Empire. He would, as always, consult the Gods about any proposed cooperation with infidels, but that did not mean he could not explore the possibilities. He bit his lip in unconscious excitement, the copper taste of his own blood flavoured his mouth as his sharp teeth drew blood. Exquisite.
The living creature known as a Tizowyrm translated the speech and made its discomfort known as it wriggled in his ear. Tokin shook his head briefly to correct its behaviour before continuing. He had to get his words correct and the meaning clear, otherwise dangerous conclusions could be drawn.
"I very much doubt you value the meaning of sacrifice quite like the Chosen Race, but a game of semantics will get us nowhere. I am plenipotentiary for my betters, and I would like to hear more about these 'words' you speak of. Speak them plainly, however. Show me if you must. We value action and clarity, and will not be bound by whimsical words and weak sentiments."
Tokin was not plenipotentiary for what passed as the Yuuzhan Vong government, but if he could pass any advantage gained from any such agreement off as his own, then he would be in the perfect position to take control of the Master Race and march to glory.
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