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[V:18] The Varr Cluster; Nakar Home System
Topic Started: Jan 10 2018, 07:24 AM (64 Views)
Rookzilla
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The beating heart of the Nakar empire. The Varr cluster features 12 planets around 4 individual stars. Maji is listed as the capital system, with the capital world of Kharkum being its crown jewel amongst others. Auxia is the star of life, featuring the homeworld of the Magharan and Zarakian species. Garga and Pyhon; gifts from the Great Dynamic, twin stars across the abyss, ready to sustain life aplenty. Traffic in the system was a constant, military and civilian. From news transmissions to mining rigs and system control traffic, the stars and the planets around them were bursting with life. Quantum wavelengths were spiking regularly as FTL-Gate traffic shot all manners of starships through to systems familiar.
Edited by Rookzilla, Jan 10 2018, 07:28 AM.
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Rookzilla
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Varr Cluster
Pyhon Star
Orbit Around Jarh


278 Days into deployment. Battlegroup Thaljur drifted slowly over Narakosh. The gates had been shooting them around the system, with all the heat emissions in the sector they'd finish patrolling the system. The 5 dreadnoughts were complimented by each planets array of defensive systems, who's use would soon no doubt be put to the test.

*DZZZIIIT DZIIIIT* The quantum encryptor buzzed, a message received. The Kurikmanum and the Jandaevo were called up. An anti piracy mission. Captain Vurt-Nesh of the Kurikmanum cringed slightly reading his orders. He knew the idea of anti-piracy wasn't really seen as real conflict. His crew wanted honour, medals, things to tell the women of the night upon their return to port. Would squashing a few human pirates do such a thing? Probabaly; they were sailors after all. He analysed the message in his gold scaled hands. This assignment wasn't going to make him a war hero like Banion or Yathrok, they weren't going to be shoving him into cloning vats after these battles. Then again, he never knew, he was already commanding a dreadnought at 50. Maybe it was time to make a name for himself. He was so caught up in his dreams of a seat at the table that his XO snapped him back to it.

"Captain, what is the message from fleet command?"

Vurt-Nesh nodded and gave his best authoritarian face. "The orders are simple. We are going to hunt and destroy Baktan pirates, prepare a provision count and begin a slow spool, check H-3 storage and have engineering reference hull-integ surveys. We need to make sure this old girl is ready to roll around before we start cracking skulls."

The XO smiled, Vurt-Nesh was always good at knowing what to say. The Kurikmanum and the Jandaevo split off, quickly sending out large informational webs to encrypted surface bases. A long range confirmation transmission was shot to the Xostuur, Anaktozchjo and Yjurekeltes. It had been a few months since they had left their home system rotation, last time it was to shell Saphrithid rebels. Vurt-Nesh thought about it as he stood observing his tactical maps, putting his holograms in order. Baktans, the newscasts told me they were definitely human. Vurt-Nesh didn't mind humans, the ones he had met at higher imperial functions seemed competent enough, far more capable a species than the Dascans or even the Magharans. Who knew what the future would hold; the only thing that was certain was that orders were orders.


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Rookzilla
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Varr Cluster
Auxia
Krayn - Capital


Declamatorius looked down at his feet, he swivelled them on the ground as if we were blotting out embers of a flame. He looked inside his dropship. Armour clad, silver plated, engraved and marked with the sacred vigils. The rockets roared as the dropship descended over the city of Jeghartus; Capital of Barbadon. He looked out the window as the clouds dissipated, his seatbelt shuddered as the turbulence was slapped out of the way of the immense government craft.

He wasn’t even touched down when he could hear the fanfare over the engines, the engines themselves couldn’t blot out the love the people had for the Administratum. He looked around the craft, the prestige and power in this craft couldn’t be bought with all the money the galaxy had to offer. The currency these men used to fortify their positions was none other than time. General Banion Brodek stood with an artificially stern look on his face. A single eye was augmented with a telescoping analytical scope, it looked like a monocle of old to Declamatorius. Beside him; bantering with him was Grand Admiral Yathrokk, hero of the Granite Cloak campaign. The admiral in the galaxy with the most credited superheavy kills under his belt. He was paler than the others, his body was a display of artificial strength, he worked tirelessly to produce an image that would put him on par with his peers, despite his extended periods in space. Next to Declamatorius sat Phalrillon, intelligence master, he didn’t look particularly interesting, but such was his charm. He was flicking through data tablet briefs and looking up to vaguely tune into the usual “kinetic bombardment vs hardened silos” discussion the Grand Admiral and General constantly liked to debate. The rest of the dropship consisted of the Administratums less important peers, Zarakians, Magharans, Humans, Nagarians and in the extremely rare occasion; Dascans and Saphrithids

Declamatorius looked to his peers.
“I do not know what will evaporate to the galaxy sooner fratres; us or time itself.” With this his fellow politicians gave an amused guffaw.

The ramp dropped and the Administratum walked out, Declamatorius’ braided hair fought to get free of his head under the engines back blast but it stayed in place just as his assistants said it would. He raised his hand, the statesman’s wave, something humanity had taught him. Infront of him stood a sea of people, a grand plaza and a 60ft statue of two nakar swordsmen duelling. Penning the crowd in were the imposing Praxius VII battle suits, infront of them, Nakar honour guard, and infront of them, the front line, Human Sapis Guard; the cream of the human crop, born on the inner colony worlds, all with bourgeoisie ties. As he walked, the battlesuits fired a cluster of rockets into the air, these exploded over the crowd, raining not death, but petals of a blossom tree.

What citizens were witnessing was the Great Dynamic in action, Declamatorius would stay on this planet for a small amount of time, visiting the most prestigious institutions whilst his Administrative colleagues would do the same. Banion calmly broke from the crowd to start shaking hands with some of the human Sapis Guard
“Congratulations, son, good job for getting here. This is an achievement to be proud of!” he would say to each of them. They all were boarded onto a large hover platform to ferry them down the road. As they did, a large shield was projected over the road as they travelled. Admiral Yathrok elbowed Banion and smirked “Not much has changed since the old times! Just goes to show that if you break enough ships and crack enough skulls they’ll make you leader of the place! Hah!”

Banion nodded in agreement as the wind swept his hair, they’d never had it so good. The galaxy was burning around them and they were sealed nice and tight in a tropical atoll of political stability. Then Phalrillon tapped his ear, his transmission piece was picking up relayed chatter from the dropship. Anyone on the political elite could tap into it but usually extra-systemic affairs belonged to him.

“Cricket’s Egg to Fine China. Minks have made it to Black Grass. Single Mink returning with Blades in Tow. Blades require Administrative Embassy, Cold World.”

Phalrillon scratched his head, his daughter had been accepted into the Stellar Academies on Kharkum and he had been celebrating rather hard in the last week, he couldn’t remember all the code words as he waved into the crowd. He’d have to talk to Declamatorius about it at a later stage.
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Rookzilla
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Varr Cluster
Stiran Shipyards


The construction of a dreadnought was not a light task, let alone two. The large yellow drydock shuddering, its cold clanking being unheard in the depths of space above Barbadon. The large scaffold looked like a wirey cage, pecking and stabbing into the constructs they were creating. The raw resources of Darthan coupled with the low skill labour ported from the Nakar zones were bolstering the economy. Civilian cargo ships, carrying extended chains of cargo containers were jumping into the system, freshly painted and labelled “DARTHAN SHIPPING INC” with the relevant Imperial symbolism for trading. Everything in the empire had some symbol or sign loosely associated with it. Every species could see; they all had eyes, unlike methods of communication or what range of sound they heard having a loose amount of representative symbols for everything was the fastest way to communicate. As such the shipyards of Barbadon were bustling with activity from every species. Labourers were relied out to do the hard work, to operate the haulers and weld the seals. Exosuited engineers sealed gaps and inspected the key armour coupling zones. A millimetre of inaccuracy could set the economy and military back like a sharp kick to the shins. As usual the civilian oversight branch of the military took a keen pleasure in looking at their new toys. The interior generator furnishings were being built in the spinal scaffold as workers jetted around in zero gravity, welding and bolting where applicable. Working in space was seen as just the same as working anywhere else now for the people of the empire. Health and safety still existed, workers had to be strapped on at all times and rescue craft were constantly zipping about in the event a worker had somehow cut loose or drifted unaware whilst reading a manual.
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