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Snippet #2773007

located in Terra, a part of The Multiverse, one of the many universes on RPG.

Terra

Terra is home to billions of diverse beings (indigenous, transient, and migrant) of infinitely varied species and backgrounds. An enigmatic world of adventurous (and often perilous) enterprise, Terra is as aberrant and peculiar as it is unique.

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[Ryand, do you realize that 75% of your posts is complete and utter nonsense? You don't make a lick of sense, my friend.]

Those on board the San Rafael sat in silence as combat engulfed the solar system around them. Reia blinked as the Sparta unleashed the massive Creation Cannons, weapons that only rarely found use. In most situations merely the threat of the planet destroying cannons was enough to bring about unequivocal surrender or parley. Well, perhaps these folks just didn't really understand what it was that was being unleashed.

It would be to their own deepest regrets.

"Alright Captain, we have our orders. All hands prepare for combat. I want Angels, Phoenixes, and Hoplites go."

The captain nodded, his face turning grim and stony as he began unleashing orders to his crew.

-----


In a matter of moments the space surrounding the San Rafael became abuzz with activity. Thousands of small unmanned combat drones, known as Hoplites, were unleashed from the ship, a swarm of bees flooding from within their hive. Mixed among them quickly emerged a full ten squadrons of Phoenix aerospace fighters, the sleek silvery ships moving into positions around the larger craft as escorts.

On their heels came thel argest of the San Rafael's craft, the Ace mech squadrons known as the Clockwork Angels, one of Meridian's expert military units and the best known of them all. Three squadrons of angels, thirty six mecha in all. Nine out of every twelve Angels piloted one of Meridian's 'Hardball' mechs, while the others utilized the more advanced 'Romanov' mecha. Two squads moved forward to the San Rafael's front left and right qudrants, while the third moved towards the back to hang in reserve and rear guard.

-----

"Captain, I want minimal casualties on all sides, please. These people arn't even members of the MARK, they're just in the way."

"Roger Commander. Minimum casualties, target the flagship. Ready quad of Combination Cannons and the Ether Lances. On my mark reenter real space and fire."

--------


The lower portion of the San Rafael housed the four Combination Cannons, powerful weapons which, as their name suggested, married two disparate armament types into a single ruthless weapon. Each of the cannons was housed in its own independant turret and quickly took a bead on the Trantor flagship.

At the top of the ship, a quartet of more slender, graceful seeming weapons arose from their housing, extending from low slung turrets. Each Ether Lance infallibly took aim on the Trantor flasgship, countless calculations being performed every instant to measure range, interference, and angles.

Each weapon seemed to tremble in anticipation, a gracefully beautiful tableau about to erupt into a hellstorm of death and fury.

------

"Mark."

------

The image of the San Rafael shimmered as the Quantum Drive disengaged, propelling the ship back into realspace with a cascade of light across its hull. Within an eyeblink of materialization, the ships weapons fired, unleashing an octet of deadly bursts across the space seperating the Meridian ship and its target.

From the Combination Cannons, bursts of crackling black tore across space. At least, that's what would be seen by those watching. In reality those bursts of power were moving much faster than the visual image. Composed of a tachyon vortex constructed around an unstable gravitic distortion, the Combination shot was indeed moving in excess of the speed of light, covering the distance before most beings or machines would be able to comprehend their existence. The power that would be unleashed once they impacted their targest was extreme, yet contained. There was very little that could stand up to the destructive force, but given the short life of the gravitic distortion and their innately designed fluctuations, only smaller areas of a target would be destroyed, roughly the size of a small destroyer or cruiser type ship.

Not quite as quick as the Combination shots, the Ether bolts were easily as deadly in their own way. Composed of collected ethereal energy refined and then compressed before being reenergized and hurled forth, the attacks were pinpoint accurate and designed for maximum penetration. Given their strange makeup and impeccable design, the bolts of blazing white radiance could puncture meta-physical, magical, psionic, and energy shielding as easily as it could pierce an armored hull. Their area of destruction was relatively small, but the secondary energy disruption which would spread across their target more than made up for it. Their was not an energy field or source in known existence that would function correctly in the minutes following an Ether Lance strike. This generally left their targets open for any follow ups that might be neccesary.

--------

In the instant following the powerful strike, a psionic broadcast was emitted across the width and breadth of the Trantor Fleet, a visual of an attractive dark haired woman uniformed in black and dark blue seated comfortably on the bridge of a ship. At her side stood a grim man in a similar uniform, though his rank revealed him as a Captain while the woman was a Commander. To the Commander's left stood another woman, with short blonde hair and radiant blue eyes garbed not in a uniform of any type, but rather jeans and a leather jacket.

"Greetings Trantor Fleet. I am Reia Talen, Commander of the Meridian Military Forces. Consider that shot a warning. You are asked to immediately leave this space and return to your own homes. Your business here is at an end. Persist, and drastic measures will have to be taken."

The woman smiled, a radiant expression that magnified her beauty tenfold as she gestured to the blonde woman beside her.

"Persist, and I'll have to let her out to play with you."

With that the message was gone and the San Rafael waited, secure within its own defensive measures and shielding, surrounded by its own armada of smaller vessels.