Board Thread:Forum Roleplays/@comment-26084195-20150625043600

My apologies, but this will be a very long story. But it is rich and detailed, and quite awesome, so I suggest you suffer through reading it.

 OK, new idea! This one is a replacement (sort of) of my Rise of the Sargoth line of Roleplays. Please note: this is sci-fi.

 Arda and it's populous had a troubled childhood. No period in its early history was without warfare, bloodshed and strife. Whenever the drums of war were heard, the pace of technological advancement accelerated. The great dictators of the 5th age and Arda's first global conflicts since the War of Wrath underscored it's dark potential for fratricide, as noticed by the extinction of the Orcish race, as well as a breathtaking penchant for breathtaking advancements under immense pressure.

 Later in the 5th age the people of Arda were faced with a new, even worse enemy: their own success. Their very pace of development and expansion threatened to end years of progress through unsustainable consumption of resources. Leaders and nations failed to act decisively against this long term threat through these years, blinkered by short term and selfish ambitions.

 Soon, climate change, famine, scarcity of resources and the inevitable conflict that resulted nearly tore the Human, Dwarven and Elven races apart. This was a century of constant warfare, which saw the end of nations and the formation of continental powers. Technology continued to advance during this period, albeit focused toward destroying their enemies. By the end of the war-torn century, Elves unlocked the technology of Nuclear fusion, a breakthrough which finally shone a light of hope through these dark ages.

 With this technology that granted them limitless clean energy, the races of Arda broke free of their addiction to fossil fuels, and end the fiery sunset of what is now known as the Oil Age. The war torn continents at last made peace and walked together into a new era of enlightenment.

 Geoengineering technologies were able to slowly reverse the extensive damage the races of Arda had done to their planet. Though Arda would never recover its former natural diversity, it quickly became a totally different planet. Arda's entire surface was dedicated solely to the service of those who walked upon it.

 Slowly the very concept of nations as separate political entities became redundant in the face of global management needs, as proven by the bitter lessons of the previous 200 years. A new global government, coupled with fusion power, Arda's races turned their collective drive toward the final frontier.

 The late 5th and early 6th ages saw technologies advance at a rate not seen since Arda's industrial revolution. The crowning achievement of this age of discoveries was the Spacial Distortion and Manipulation Drive, more popularly known as Foldspace or FTL (faster than light) drives. This enabled faster than light travel between planets for the first time, breaking the barriers to galactic exploration caused by the vastness of space.

 Early exploration was virtually random, hampered by the major inaccuracies of Arda foldspace tech. For precise FTL jumps beyond a few light years, a foldspace node is required at the destination to ensure an accurate jump. Without such beacons, jumps were made randomly. As a result, very few habitable worlds were discovered during this time.

 All of this changed upon first contact with a sentient, space-faring alien race; the Shaltari. With Arda's first successful jumps having been achieved by it's own ingenuity, the Shaltari deemed it the right time for interaction.

 The first meeting between Ardans and Shaltari happened aboard the exploration frigate Endurance. All in attendance  were dazzled by the sophistication of their technology, their entire deputation materializing in a moment of awestruck wonder around a single artificial construct. At first sight, the Shaltari were physically formidable creatures, clad in geometric and lavishly ornate armoured suits towering over eight feet in height. Seconds later, however, a being diminutive in stature stepped from between it's guards and extended a hand in a familiar Ardan greeting.

 They were certainly strange to look upon. A little over four feet tall, the ambassador was humanoid, and covered from head to toe in white translucent spines, not unlike a porcupine. It wore no clothes in the Ardan manner, but was adorned in apparently decorative ornaments. It had a pair of large, ovoid, penetratingly blue eyes, and moved with a serene grace almost disconcerting to look upon.

 Communication was simple enough. It appears that the Shaltari had been monitoring Arda and it's populous for centuries, and had mastered all languages on Arda. Their technology was advanced to a level beyond Ardan comprehension. They made extensive use of teleportation, their FTL drives were highly accurate, and much of their tech seemed decorative in nature.

 They proved initially beneficial, and guided Ardans to many lush worlds very near Arda itself. These worlds became known as the Cradle Worlds, and they were everything Ardan kind had hoped for.

 Human knowledge of the Shaltari was limited. It was understood that the Shaltari in contact with humans was one of many separate Shaltari organizations, called Tribes for simplicity's sake. Each tribe shared the same technologies, but were ideologically and culturally diverse. The tribe in contact with Arda called themselves "The Friends" since their actual name would be impossible for Ardans to pronounce.

 It was later learned that The Friends had an ulterior motive. In Ardans, they had identified a species which could prove a potent ally in their war against another Shaltari tribe. The Shaltari were few in number and reproduced slowly, and had an almost pathological fear of death. Ardans would make excellent foot soldiers to overwhelm their enemies through force of numbers.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> The alliance quickly broke down, since Ardans didn't take kindly to being used in such a manner. Since then, Ardans have had volatile relations with the tribes of the Shaltari, occasionally flaring into open conflict.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Ardans advanced slowly but surely, and their slipspace drives became more accurate. Not too reliably so, but it was, at least, an improvement. With that in mind, the Ardans leapt out into a second wave of exploration. This one yielded far less valuable results, but they took it anyway. These new “outer colonies” were mostly an assortment of planets much less nice and occasionally inhospitable worlds, but they were all very rich in minerals.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Most of the people who came to this new land were entrepreneurs, desperados and ne’erdowells. This made for a very mixed and diverse (and very colorful) culture. However, the outer colonies were often ignored by the decadent Cradle Worlds, who reaped the lion’s share of the conquest.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> The coming years were the golden age for Men, Elves and Dwarves alike. The architectural renaissance, the ever-increasing beauty of the Cradle Worlds, and the other things the racial trio did were all aimed toward making their lives better. It was an age of untold peace and prosperity.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Then came the fall of the Sphere.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> One day, something very very odd happened. In the land formerly known as Rohan, a curious object fell from space. The curious thing about it was that despite it’s tiny size, it hadn’t broken up in the atmosphere. When members of the AAA (Arda Administration Authority) went to locate and investigate it, they found something very odd. It was a sphere about the size of a tennis ball, made of a strange metallic substance. Despite it’s small size and physical makeup, it was pure white, and required two men to lift.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> The Sphere was taken to a AAA laboratory, where every experiment imaginable was attempted. Each displayed off the charts data about the sphere. Even basic thermal optics rendered it completely white, even though it was cool to the touch. Eventually they hooked an electrical device with a direct link to the computer network to the Sphere.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Immediately, all doors locked, trapping many personal in small rooms. A vast data spike was detected, representing a huge upload of data into the lab’s network. Every computer on the continent locked out simultaneously, freeing unbelievable amounts of bandwidth to allow vast data flow to the facility.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> It lasted for a mere few seconds before it stopped abruptly. Exactly one hour later, the characteristic sounds of engines and explosions were heard. When these sounds died away, all doors were unlocked, and the scientists found the testing chamber breached and the Sphere gone without a trace.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Days later, a message was broadcast to every world of the AAA. Every broadcaster was successfully hacked simultaneously moments earlier. It was broadcast in every language used in Ardan worlds, but here it is translated into English:

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> A time of dire fortune is nigh. Your races stand upon a knife’s edge.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> An implacable foe approaches,                                                                                                                                           against which you have insufficient time                                                                                                                                     to prepare, and no hope of victory.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> We implore you to abandon your                                                                                                                                    homeworld, and those nearest it.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Join Us over Vega IV in one year hence and                                                                                                                             We will lead you to your salvation.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Fail, and only death awaits you.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> During the months after this broadcast, tensions rose ever higher in the population of the Cradle Worlds. Some dismissed The Warning as scaremongering, nothing more than an elaborate joke. Religious cults grew in popularity, each proclaiming the coming of judgement day and wailing in atonement for sins, both real and imagined.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Normally it would have been easy to dismiss The Warning as simple scaremonger, were it not for the eerie exactness with which each broadcaster was hacked at the exact same second. As the months wore on and the deadline approached, instances of looting, panic, and chaos increased. An uncanny and unprecedented paranoia grew in both the populace and government. When the deadline was nearing it’s final few weeks, instances of theft of FTL capable vessels and mutinies on AAA ships became common. Then, just a few hours before the deadline, the group known as “The Abandonists” amassed their collective fleet of thousands containing millions of Humans (but very little Elves and no Dwarves. The Dwarves were disbelieving and a bit stubborn, and most Elves were too “smart”) above Vega IV, and were met there by a well armed albeit outnumbered AAA fleet.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> The AAA fleet had orders not to fire unless totally necessary, but were authorized to use force in order to stop a mass exodus. The clock ticked toward zero-hour. Then, as weapons charged and slipspace drives powered up a message was received in all Abandonist vessels, precisely one year after The Warning.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> WE ADVISE YOU                                                                                                                                                                                                                TO PROCEED                                                                                                                                                                                          TO THE COORDINATES                                                                                                                                                                           WE HAVE LOADED

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> WE HAVE MADE                                                                                                                                                                          YOUR DRIVES                                                                                                                                                                          ACCURATE

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> YOU HAVE MADE                                                                                                                                                                                        THE RIGHT CHOICE

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Spikes in data transfer indicated simultaneous hacking of all Abandonist vessels, indicating the insertion of foldspace coordinates entered into your drives.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> As thousands of Abandonist vessels readied their foldspace drives, the AAA fleet sent an order to power down or be fired on. The hardy humans ignored, and made a split second decision that sealed Arda kind’s fate. As Abandonist vessels winked out, the largest of abandonist vessels fired upon the AAA ships in an attempt to screen the smaller, tighter packed transport vessels.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> An unrelenting and brutal exchange of fire ensued, both sides now acting on split second decisions. Since they were the second to open fire, the AAA fleet took the brunt of the damage. As the Abandonist vessels spirited away to salvation, the balance of power swung back into the AAA’s court, and the remaining few Abandonist ships suffered the full wrath of the wounded AAA fleet. Unfortunately, it was the larger warships that contained most of the Abandonist’s Elven population. As such, those Abandonists that made it were 99.99% Human. And it is estimated that around 2-3% of the population of the Cradle Worlds made it out.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> The three hour war had cost the AAA navy dearly, with nearly half their ships crippled or destroyed, and almost every vessel damaged in some way. This would cost them dearly, and to this day many curse the Abandonists for instigating this violence and leaving Arda and the Cradle Worlds to such an uncertain fate.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> The Golden age of Arda came to it’s end mid 6th age. Just two days after the Abandonists left to follow the Sphere, Arda and the AAA were on full military alert, brought on by a prudent desire not to ignore The Warning. The army represented a small portion of the population. It had been over 400 years since Arda’s last full scale war, the troops were more accustomed to peace keeping duties than actual combat.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> At 06:00 hrs AES (Arda Eastern Standard) time, thousands upon thousands of chillingly alien ships leapt from foldspace and began moving at full speed towards Arda. Since Foldspace drives can’t operate near gravity wells, it would be two hours before the enemy fleet to reach low orbit. Such a grim countdown only served to claw insidiously at the moral of the troops on the ground, gripping their weapons and readying vehicles for the coming battle.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> The tattered AAA fleet may have been able to make a difference against the alien fleet had it not been for it’s beating at the hands of the Abandonists two days earlier. As it was, the small fleet was simply knocked aside, with very few ships able to survive by fleeing. Their belief in The Warning having been vindicated, others would never forgive the Abandonists for their (perceived) cowardice and betrayal.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> After the fleet reached low orbit, the skies over Arda darkened with bizarre dropships, the like of which had never been seen before. Interceptors and anti-air weapons took quite a toll on the enemy, such was the sheer volume of the dropships. Alas, it was like throwing stones at a lake.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Once planetfall had been made, wave upon wave of sinister anti-gravity tanks rolled out of the dropships. The design of these vehicles was such that they seemed biological in nature. They swept the streets of anything that moved. Although mercifully short ranged, countermeasures seemed to have absolutely no effect against their weaponry, which annihilated anyone unlucky enough to be caught in it’s beam. AAA tanks were engulfed in blue, superheated plasma, which turned the tanks and the poor souls within into molten slag.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Once the fighting passed into structures, ordinary Men, Elves and Dwarves readied weapons to face their enemy, and get a good look at the aggressors. Thousands were brutally slaughtered before even glimpsing the form of their enemies. Their weapons had a horrifying effect on biological forms. Men who witnessed their comrades cooked from the inside out by blue fire quickly broke and ran, screaming in madness. They too were either cut down or captured as they fled. Only when the handfuls of survivors rallied, backs to the wall, they stood to fight.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Successes were few and far between, occurring only in the rare instances where the enemy was spread thin. In tight, confined spaces the combat occasionally degenerated into hand-to-hand fighting. It was during these moments that the Ardans first locked eyes with their destroyers.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Roughly humanoid in appearance, and wearing thick garments, very little skin was showing. What skin did show was covered in scales. They had no visible ears, flat elongated noses, and sharp teeth. Their eyes were full of malice and pain, and appeared to burn red from the inside. They sweated profusely, and needed to consume fluids at an alarming rate, be it water or the blood of the fallen (even their own). They fought with reckless abandon, showing little regard for their own lives, and always appeared on the edge of madness, such were their jerky and inconsistent movements.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Out in the streets, no crew in the tanks or other vehicles were ever sighted. On occasion, a putrid, black, tar-like substance was seen oozing from stricken vessels (rather like congealed blood), but such observations were few, as destruction of AAA armored units was total.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Within hours most fighting was over. Any Ardan survivors were utterly routed, and surviving civilians abandoned the cities in a terrified rush. This was merely the beginning of their torment, as those who were captured suffered a fate even worse than death.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Despite the valiant, desperate and ultimately vain struggles for the cities, the focus of survivors shifted to escape. The scale of the planetwide invasion made this suicidal but many attempted anyway. Available ships that hadn’t been destroyed or commandeered by the now hated Abandonists were few in number. Of those that managed to get airborne, very few managed to put enough distance between themselves and Arda to make use of Foldspace drives.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Atmosphere capable AAA vessels that had escaped the space battle were occasionally able to effect daring rescues of stranded civilians. Tales of heroism and sacrifice in those desperate hours are the stuff of legend today. Even so, less than 1% of Arda’s population was able to survive and escape. For the majority, there would be no escape from the living hell that Arda would soon become.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Ships fleeing to the Cradle Worlds met situations similar to Arda, and several were swatted away by the enemy fleets in orbit there. The rest quickly wisened up, and attempted to contact the various cradle worlds. Each time, they were met with pleas for help, the screams of the desperate and dying, or simply static. With the Cradle Worlds not an option anymore, they changed course and tried for the far-flung Outer Colonies.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> The only worlds to escape the carnage were those Outer Colonies. For some reason, the enemy had yet to turn its gaze to them. It has been estimated that only one in fifty Elves, Men and Dwarves managed to survive long enough to make it to the Outer Colonies. The populations of the young mining settlements and towns were shocked at this huge influx of battered survivors. But they accepted them into their society, and forged ahead together.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Why the enemy failed to attack the Outer Colonies remains a mystery, but a million and one theories have been created. The chaos had granted little time to study their foe, and what was known of them was gleaned from those precious few who survived combat with them. The only clue that the few bodies of their aggressors that had been captured was this: their nervous system was seriously messed up. They were like humans or Elves or Dwarves in most ways. They were carbon-based and warm blooded, and shared many organs with them, despite their lizard-like appearance, but their nervous system was totally out there, unlike anything seen before.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Their behaviour, their jerky movement, and their apparent insanity were at total odds with the huge amount of planning and careful consideration this invasion must have required. There were also rumors of other, even more sinister species in the ranks of these enemies. Tales of demons and monsters were rife.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Their sinister appearance and brutal appearance led to a common nickname: “the Scourge”.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> It quickly became apparent that the Scourge must not know the existence of the Outer Colonies. It also became apparent that they too required Foldspace nodes to accurately travel. As such, the nodes in the Colonies were reconfigured and encrypted, requiring a certain signature to travel to one. Once this was done, the Outer Colonies united and began to rebuild their civilization. A new, collective name was created to describe the union of Elven, Dwarven and Human races: Metakind, or Metas.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Metakind set out building a new and dynamic civilization, called the United Colonies of Metakind or UCM. This new civilization was much less nice than their old lives. The Outer Colonies were harsh and difficult to live on, with poor conditions most of the time. However, its immense material wealth allowed for the creation of a new, industrious society, solely dedicated to pumping out the immense military machine needed to retake the Cradle Worlds.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> It took 160 years, but thanks to constant work and a swelling in birth rates, the UCM swelled to a population of 20,000,000,000 people and a huge military force. Reconnaissance groups, small stealthy ships sent to the Cradle Worlds and small groups of soldiers, were sent to gather info. Most were destroyed, but many managed to gather info. And that info was shocking.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> They found Metas working with the Scourge.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> How could this be possible? Why would any Meta work with these horrid oppressors? But soon, similarities were observed between the Scourge lizard warriors and the new Meta collaborators. The Meta too began to sweat, became immensely thirsty, and had jerky movements. A few were captured, and after several autopsies, the truth was learned. The scourge were not the lizard warriors. The Scourge were what was in them.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> The weird nervous system they had found in the lizard warrior bodies wasn’t a nervous system at all, it was something on the nervous system. The Scourge had stuck themselves into the brains of those who had been captured and grown into the bodies of their victims!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> The Scourge retained use of everything within a Meta’s body at the time of possession, including (and most horrifyingly) memories and the reproductive system. So all of a sudden, Scourge in the tortured bodies of the Metas were able to use the factories to create their own military, and new Metas which could then be possessed in turn.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> This was the final straw for the UCM. Their military prepared to mobilize against the Scourge. Then, three days before the Reconquest was scheduled to begin, a ship appeared over Aurum (the UCM capital and their only nice planet). It appeared human in make, and it claimed to come in peace. This ship full of Humans was thoroughly inspected, then allowed to send a delegate to the UCM High Council, which fortunately happened to be in session.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> The newcomers were obviously Human, but they had a very strange and unsettling demeanor. They didn’t act quite Human. They wore simple white clothes, and their gazes were cold and unfeeling. They made all Metas present very uneasy. The newcomers greeted the Council respectfully, bowed, and began speaking.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> “We are representatives of the White Sphere, humble aspects of the Post-Human Republic. We respectfully acknowledge and appreciate your hospitality. Generations ago, our forebears fought a desperate battle against your own. In a time of great confusion, the actions taken were deemed prudent. We do not apologize for them, and expect none likewise from yourselves. We do, however, express our great sorrow and regret at the loss of life engendered by them. We do not come to reconcile. We suspect that forgiveness cannot be earned by us in so short a time. We come, instead, to advise. The enterprise you are about to undertake is rash and ill timed, and inadequately prepared. You have progressed admirably in finding your strength once more, but in this folly you will open a chest of perpetual war and death in which none of your lives will witness it’s ending. The warning of the White Sphere proved accurate, and we implore you to keep that in mind, and we beseech you to heed our words.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> There was a long silence before President Helena Beleque stood to speak.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> “I think I speak for all my assembled colleagues, and indeed the people of the United Colonies of Metakind, in welcoming the news of your miraculous survival. Here we are all Metas, and all know that we face greater threats to our existence than each other. The existence of others in our persecuted species must only be a boon in the face of the threat that besets us. However, I think I also share their sentiments in stating that, indeed, we do not forgive your forefathers for their actions. Their cowardice, treachery and acts of aggression weakened our species at a time when every ounce of strength was needed. If you cannot find a place in your address for contrition, neither can we forgive you.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> The ambassador for the PHR replied: “You are equal parts correct and mistaken, madame President. Our survival was undeniably miraculous, and we indeed show no repentance, though only those unable to accept the truth would have judged our actions cowardly. As for your first assumption, I beg to correct you. We are no Metas, only Humans made it to Home Soil. However, we are not Human either. We are far more. As such, we have judged your chances in this enterprise as… slim.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> President Beleque was quick to respond in harsh tones. “You don’t reckon on the strength of our men and the burning desire in their hearts. The Scourge have laid waste to our homelands in a malignant occupation that our consciences cannot continue to countenance. Join us in this task, and in time you may repay the blood of those slaughtered over Vega. Until that day, consider yourselves outside of our care, and our enemies if you hinder us in our purpose.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> The famously blunt Dwarven Supreme Marshal Zachiev arose and spat “Leave us, traitor. We have nothing more to say to you.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> The Republican delegates smiled a sad sort of smile, and left. Any hope of a united Metakind went with them.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> 72 hours later, the UCM military blasted off toward the Cradle Worlds.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Welcome to my Reconquest roleplay! In this roleplay you act out the part of a member of one of the four factions. Here they are now:

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> The Shaltari: A species of highly advanced aliens, the Shaltari have both a fear of death and a desire for war. When the Reconquest began, they couldn’t help but hop right in. Their combat vessels are highly ornate, with powerful weapons and decent speed, but little armor, these warriors make use of teleportation. Quite extensively, I might add.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> The Scourge: The hideous and pure evil parasites invaded Arda and the Cradle Worlds 160 years ago. These guys are cruel and malignant and delight in the unending pain and torment that those they possess undergo. In terms of military, their vessels are the fastest around, and have some of the most potent weapons. However, they have low armor, and their weapons are quite low ranged (being plasma and all).

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> The Post-Human Republic (PHR): The descendants of the Abandonists were guided by the White Sphere to a planet of unmatched utopian beauty (though no one knows where it is). There, they prospered into the society they are today, but far more advanced than the UCM. The reason that they are called Post-Humans is because they are cyborgs, each one of them. A society of only about 3,000,000,000 the PHR focuses on the survival of each unit.They have the best armor, and some of the best and longest ranged weapons. Their armoured units are mostly walkers, and each infantryman is more than a match for several lesser mortals. They are, however, fewer in number and the slowest around.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> The United Colonies of Metakind (UCM): This culturally diverse melting pot of a society has become hardened after years of harsh living conditions, but each has a determination and fire in their heart unmatched by any others. Their strength on the battlefield is that they have no weakness. Their weakness is that they have no strength. They are very well rounded, but usually make use of air power, and a lot of it.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Here are the rules of the roleplay:

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> I am gamemaster. What I say goes. However, I’ll be pretty lenient. I do have a general plot in mind, but that plot is dynamic, and it will shift to accommodate whatever the players do.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> No metagaming or godmodding. You will be given one, and only one warning if such a thing occurs. Two infractions will get you kicked out, and your character immolated (or worse) at the hands of the Scourge.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Some swearing or adult content is allowed, but try not to overdo it.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> And, of course, have fun!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Here is the character template you should use:

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Name: Leatherback

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Species: Meta (Human, Scourge possessed) (you should write Meta (Elven/Dwarven/Elven) if you’re in the UCM, or Meta (Elven/Dwarven/Human, Cyborg) if you’re PHR)

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Faction: The Scourge

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Vehicle: Oppressor class command crawler, an insectile machine equipped with plasma rays and a huge taser-like weapon, complete with razor sharp claws. Slightly longer ranged than most Scourge vessels. Usuall transported by a Harbinger dropship, which is equipped with AA guns and plasma bombs.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Appearance: Big, for a human, and with wrinkly leathery skin, which gives him his monicker.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:2.1;margin-top:11pt;margin-bottom:11pt;"> Rank: Puppetmaster

Story: Leatherback is the Puppetmaster (worldwide commander) of the former Ardan world of Eden Prime. He is more calculating than most Scourge commanders (which is saying something), and he keeps a pack of some of the most unusual and terrifying war beasts known to Scourge kind. <ac_metadata title="Reconquest, a sci-fi LOTR roleplay"> </ac_metadata>