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Terran Marine Command

The backbone of the TNG Military, serving to protect Terra and her sovereignty.

0 · 4,156 views · located in Fort Veritas

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Nemo

Description

TERRAN MARINE COMMAND

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"By mortal men are battles fought
With mortal blood is freedom bought
On Terra's mantle they are seated
Honored, hallowed, undefeated"


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[[TIB ARCHIVE DATABASE: WELCOME, _User]]

[[TIB ARCHIVE / COMMAND:]]
>/access tafmilitaryschematics

[[<PROCESSSING REQUEST>]]
[[<CLEARANCE LEVEL FOUR REQUIRED>]]
/PLEASE PROVIDE VALID CLEARANCE

>/insertclearance W36478 TLGEQ91684 REDWINEWITHFISH

[[TIB ARCHIVE-CLASSIFIEDATABASE-CLEARANCECHECKPOINT]]
[[<PROCESSSING CLEARANCE>]]
[[<CLEARANCE ACCEPTED>]]
[[<COMMENCING RETINAL SCAN, REMAIN STILL>]]
[[<RETINAL SCAN ACCEPTED>]]
[[<COMMENCING PSIONIC FLASHPROBE>]]
[[<FLASHPROBE ACCEPTED>]]
[[<WELCOME AGENT 616>]]
[[<Retrieving SCHEMATICSFILE MMS-12-981>]]
[[TIB ARCHIVE-DATABASE / SPECIFICATION REQUIRED]]
>/terranguardian

[[<REQUISITIONING DATA>]]
[[<PREPARING SCHEMATICS]]
[[<UPDATING DATABASE>]]
[[<LOADING MARINE PROFILE>]]
/PLEASE WAIT
/...../
/...../


TERRAN GUARDIAN
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With the threat of intergalactic war looming, the Terran Armed Forces began to seriously examine the combat efficiency of its warriors in earnest. No longer restricted by limited resources and poor technology as they were when operating in the Resistance, they launched an expansive military project designed to revolutionize Terra's defensive capabilities, focusing on the quality of individual assets, rather than quantity. The 'Terran Guardian' was the first of many to stem from this new military agenda.
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The guardian is Terra's primary marine unit, designed and trained for quick-contact combat and immediate tactical deployment. Heavily armed, highly skilled and strategically versatile, the Guardian is a fearsome warrior to contend with.

Guardians are one of the only marine units that do not utilize power armor, preferring instead a more agile bodysuit innovation that offers excellent protection without sacrificing mobility and stealth. The T51 Seraph Battlesuit, originally modeled after the TAF 'Venator Heavy Armor' predecessor, is one of the most advanced mobile armor prototypes of its kind. Layered with tempered titanium-protosteel variations and laced with an isoelectric nanostructured boron nitride compound, the Seraph is well-defended against most projectile weapons and fragmentation damage. Lacking any power source to generate shields, the Seraph is instead interwoven in a webwork of B-class cuendillar directional vessels, allowing for the dispersion of hostile energy concentrations across the whole of the suit. Built-in electromek capacitor studs continually "sap" at energy concentrations coursing through the cuendillar network, literally sucking the heat out of a plasma bolt or the voltage out of an electric shock, safely storing the joule convergence for later discharge. A nanofoam submold lining the interior of the armor provides the Seraph with an enormous absorption factor. Guardians can take falls nearly two thousand feet in the air and land harmlessly on solid ground. The armor is vacuum-sealed, filtered against toxins and is equipped with a limited supply of oxygen.

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A guardian's primary weapon is the VX9 "Sixer" Gauss Rifle, the revised prototype to the previous TAF favorite 'CMC Marauder Rifle'. As a Gauss-based weapon, the Sixer uses a series of powerful electromagnets to accelerate small, solid and conductive projectiles to speeds close to a significant fraction of the speed of light - .06 percent. The Sixer fires conductive pikes of superheated, energized metal at exactly 179,875.475 meters per second. After 500 meters, the projectile disintegrates under the electromagnetic pressure and continued heat application.

In addition to the Sixer, guardians are equipped with a myriad of other weapons. While loadouts vary between specialized troopers, a standard guardian will Imageusually come equipped with a backup Gauss or plasma pistol, fragmentation, PSI and/or thermite grenades. While the charged-end of their Sixer usually suffices as an adequate melee-weapon, guardians are also equipped with a neosteel slideblade, a durable armor-rendering blade that can fully retract from its hilt to a height of 3.5'. Many guardians will also equip themselves with a "raptor pack" jump attachment prior to battle; a compact flight accessory that fits to a guardian's back and allows for limited flight capabilities. All guardians possess on-screen scouters, thermal sights and commlinks in their helmets. Their trademark "wingspans", the feather-like strips of metal extending from either side of their visors, are in fact sensor relays that enhance the analysis efficiency of their scouters.

All guardians are elite soldiers, handpicked from the ranks of aspiring Terran warriors. Many of them are former special-ops, hailing from their own respective countries and nations: Navy SEALS, Spetsnaz and Shayetet. Some were born and raised under the TAF's banner, earning their stripes on the field during live battles against Terra's many foes. Although the guardian is the most "basic" marine class, they are no grunts. Becoming a guardian takes a minimum of a full year of intense, backbreaking training. There is nundero soldier archetype below guardian; if an applicant cannot complete the training, he is not fit for combat under the TAF. Because of this absurdly strict and selective recruitment system, the count of TAF fighters is alarmingly low, with most marine-hopefuls being rejected after the initial application assessment alone. As it stands now, there are only [CLASSIFIED] guardian units available for deployment, divided into a total of [CLASSIFIED] platoons.

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>/acess tafmilitaryschematics
[[TIB ARCHIVE-DATABASE / SPECIFICATION REQUIRED]]
>/terranoracle

[[<REQUISITIONING DATA>]]
[[<PREPARING SCHEMATICS]]
[[<UPDATING DATABASE>]]
[[<LOADING MARINE PROFILE>]]
/PLEASE WAIT
/...../
/...../


TERRAN ORACLE
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The Terran Oracles (also called psykers, mages, and 'combat clairvoyants') are the arcane/psionic warriors of the TNG. Wielding an incredible array of magic-based battle spells and immensely powerful telepathic attacks, oracles are deadly foes on the battlefield. Even one oracle can change the tide of a skirmish in a matter of minutes.

ImageLike their guardian counterparts, oracles are garbed in a protective suit of body armor, 'the MM23 Witcher Skin' Although less agile than the Seraph Battlesuit, it does provide more protection, as well as a built-in projection system that enhances the wearer's supernatural ability. The core mesh is an isoelectric boron nitrideImage compound padded with supershock nanomesh fiber for an extra absorbency factor, providing significant protection against projectile/slug-based damage. Ceramite-based armaplas plating is locked over the armor's shoulders, torso, back and legs, offering protection against heat and flak. This same material composes the Witcher Skin's helmet, a complex piece of equipment that both protects the oracle and magnifies his arcane and psionic potential. Through the use of a conductive submyelin electrocapillary network, the Witcher Skin feeds energy to the user from an aether generator located at the armor's lower back. Oracles can use this power surplus to magnify their combat spells to magnanimous extremes, their energy-output multiplying considerably (if briefly) up to 50 times their original power level. The goggles, perhaps the most noticeable feature about the armor, links directly the oracle's mind, enhancing their 'psionic eyes', allowing them to detect stealthed units, see through illusions and recognize incoming attacks from miles away. A cross-oscillation manascrambler synthesizes a unique, fluctuating frequency for wave-based arcane attacks and supplies each spell with a protective cluster of anti-agonist subparticle depressants. This combination makes an oracle's attacks extremely difficult to repress with anti-magic technology or shielding. The Witcher Skin comes complete with a full OmniShield, providing oracles substantial defense against attacks of all type, be they projectile, energy or psionic.

Oracle recruits always have some degree of pre-existing psionic potential. Many of them hail from the revered halls of the Academia Celestia and Everia, the famed battlemage schools. To become an oracle requires years of rigorous training in both physical combat and mental warfare. Oracles must be trained to use their Witcher Skins with masterful proficiency, knowing precisely when to spike their power and when to hide it. They must be trained in all manner of magics, from elemental to alchemy to healing, and must learn how to defend entire battalions of soldiers from supernatural attacks. The application rate for oracles is lower than that of guardians and its dropout is higher. For this reason, oracles are extremely valued on the battlefield and revered for their ummatched tactical efficiency.


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So begins...

Terran Marine Command's Story

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#, as written by Nemo
The marines lowered their weapons as the Spartans did.

"There we go. No need to get shootin'." One of the armored soldiers came forward, offering the Spartans a nod. "Sergeant' Emery Blake. 41st Recon Division." He looked up at the super-soldiers between perked brows.

"...and hollleeee'sheet. You guys are TALL. You must eat yer'veggies from wherever you come fr-HOLY SHIT!" The marine ducked for cover as the windows to Gambit's exploded in a fiery ball of fury. What was happening now?!

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#, as written by Nemo
A small squad of Terran marines quickly approached the Scatteran tanks, nodding towards Ellie as she approached as well.

"The bar just fuckin' blew up!" one of them shouted, "we don't know who did it! Goddammit!"

Meanwhile, a squad of marines burst through the doors, their capacitor shields protecting them from the worst of the flames. Once inside, they immediately trained their guns on the Russians.

"Hold it! Put your weapons down!"

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#, as written by Nemo
The moment the Russians open fired, the bar went into a frenzy. Two Terran marines took hits and collapsed to floor with a grunt.

The rest of the marines returned fire, aiming specifically at the hostile Russians, Gauss-rounds blazing blue and white.

Two Marines, meanwhile, approached the Hispanic-looking woman.

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#, as written by Nemo
"Ma'am, please clear out!" they ushered her away, "this is Union business! Don't be worried. We have it under control."

The chatter of gunfire coming from the bar did nothing to help their claims.

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#, as written by Nemo
The marines immediately turned towards their wounded while others tried to capture the remaining Russians as best they can. Given Captain Narkel's destructive blast, it was likely that many of them would be dead as it was.

Another squad of marines quickly approached from outside the bar, attempting to douse the flames using extinguishers in they'd brought with them.

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#, as written by Nemo
One of the marines of Hispanic origin dared to approach Muerte.

"Que estas haciendo? he barked, "[i]esta un locacion segura! Afuera!" He would attempt to grab the girl by the arms and force her out. What was she thinking?

The marines by the bar, meanwhile, were finally starting to bring some order back into the bar. The fires were nearly out, and the two Terrans that had been hit had been saved from death by their armor. TNG medics ran through the bar, tending to all wounded that needed them, hostile or no.

The Terran Officer saluted Daylon, quickly moving to scatter a large crowd of onlookers. Clearly UCON commanded great respect among the Terran ranks.

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#, as written by Nemo
It was at this point that a particularly young Terran marine who's armor didn't quite fit him would be brought before the Sheriff.

"Y... you asked for a Terran with electric experience... sir?" he offered a weak salute, "Corporal Adrian Chen. I-I'm an Engineer aboard the Fiddle, sir."

The Terrans inside the bar, meanwhile, had just finished cleaning up the mess and were beginning to bag the bodies. "Just a second, Tank." One of the marines nodded towards the Spartan. "Why don't you head outside? I'm pretty damn sure some of our guys will wanna' debrief ya."

The marines outside were still staring incredulously at Muerte; the death goddess still stooped over the body of one of the Russian terrorists. The soldier who'd tried to stop her was still trying to pick himself up off the ground.

"What the fuck lady..." another marine ran up, noticing the white mist flowing about her.

"Shit..." another soldier took a step back, "...she a super?"

"Looks like it. Can we get a scouter run on this girl?"

"Alright on it. Transmitting data to the Fiddle now." The two soldiers trained their guns on Muerte.

"Now you just stay right fuckin' there, prima..." they warned.

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#, as written by Nemo
Chen nodded skittishly, quickly racing off to perform the task as he approached a nearby pile of rubble.

(Inside the Bar)

"Hey just what the fuck do you think you're..." Before the Necromancer could be stopped by the marines, he and his undead minions were gone. Just like that.

"Uh... we got a situation here..." one of the marine captains commed into the Union frequency, "...our bodies sorta' just... disappeared. We have no way of identifying the hostiles. Superhuman situation."

"Make that TWO!" another marine grimaced outside the bar, still chasing Muerte as she claimed the souls of the soldiers. "Shit, this spicy lil' latina is making trouble with our bodies! God, what is it with these superhumans and their obsession with our dead?!" It wasn't easy being a human soldier in one of the most heavily-populated superhuman planet in the galaxy.

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#, as written by Nemo
"Alright!" the marine captain shouted to his men, "pack er'up! Loud it out! Mission successful... for the most part."

That said, the Terran marines would file out of the bar, the mess cleaned up.

The setting changes from Gambit's Bar to Main Street

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#, as written by Nemo
"Yeah, why don't you tell us what the hell you just did to those Russian corpses?" the marines gulped, guns still trained on the woman. It was then they finally received their scout analysis.

"She's a super alright," one of the marines commed quietly to the others, peering at the data, "spiritual type. Capable of instant teleportation, obviously. Not reading a particularly high power level, but that doesn't mean she's not a threat."

"Who are you?" one of the soldiers stepped forward, "what do you want with us?"

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#, as written by Nemo
The marines looked incredulously at one another. "Death?" one of them made a face, "...so you, what, ferry souls to the underworld?"

"I never thought death would be a latino..." another mumbled.

"I never though death would be so damn attractive..." another whistled.

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#, as written by Nemo
The soldiers, though still startled, were more at ease now. At least she was friendly. With all the superhumans roaming across Terra, normal humans had to appreciate those who HAD power but didn't abuse it.

The marine who'd been complimenting Muerte, a more-or-less handsome young marine, jolted at Death's sudden touch, relaxing a bit as she wrapped her arms over his armor. "I never death could be so... lively..." he laughed, not bothering to restrain his eyes as they roamed over every assett of the gorgeous woman. He didn't shy away from her embrace.

A nearby Sergeant growled. "That's enough, Rekkin. Quit flirtin' with death." He looked towards the woman. "Look, are you dangerous or not? Are you here to harm living beings or just deal with them when they die?"

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#, as written by Nemo
It was a gloomy afternoon in Wing City, and a convoy of Terran Marines were making their rounds around the city. There were four of them all, each armored head-to-toe and cradling their weapons with a calm peace. After a month-long uphill battle to restore order to post-war Wing City, the TNG was finally beginning to see some progress. Buildings were being rebuilt. Roads repaired. Food rations were made available to everyone. Hospitals were back online at last.

...but there was still the danger level of the equation. Terra as a whole was still weak from the crippling aftermath of the war. Criminals roamed freely about the streets, capitalizing on their government's weakness and the limited reach of the WCPD. Even MORE deadly were the Aschen insurgents left over from the war. With a deadly arsenol of alien weaponry, there was no telling what those goddamn' Shin bastards would do next...

And so, a squad of marines trotted down Main Street's sidewalk, conducting a quick patrol around the most famous roadway in the city.

"Ey', Locust!" the trooper on the forefront turned to his fellow soldier, "y'know I always wanted to ask... where'd y'get that armor from? Looks fancy. It must be pretty damn effective, huh? I mean, they let'cha wear it instead of Standard-Issue, din't they?"

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#, as written by Nemo
"Well what da'fuck man, I told command the same thing!" another marine, this one a sturdily-built woman, turned back to Locust in surprise, "I mean, the Shins got guns that can blow holes through tanks! Why don't we take a number from their book and start jacking their equipment?"

"I don't trust anything Aschen..." the third marine, this one hardly looking older then twenty. He was garbed like the rest, but his gun was shorter and more compact. A series of runes and bags were tied to his belt. A battle mage. "...watch. We'll pick up a disruptor one day and it'll explode in our hands. Those Shins would cut their dicks off to cause the rest of us even a little pain..."

As the marines walked, daily life in Wing City resumed. Men and women scurried to work, arms laden with papers and crates of coffee. A small gaggle of laughing children were on their way to school, escorted by a police officer happily munching on a burrito. Bakeries and restaurants were just opening for the day, and the succulent scents of breakfast-time food wafted all about the troops. It was a pleasant scene to behold. THIS was what the marines were protecting. The right to let Terrans live their lives as they pleased.

"Whhheeellllp..." the lead marine, a scruffy man with blue eyes, briefly removed his helmet. He scratched as his scalp furiously, "...I ain't too concern about the Shins. We root out more of the insurgents everyday. Soon they'll be all gone." He leaped around to face his friends, grinning from ear to ear. "...and then I'LL be retired! You hear what the TNG is doing for all the survivors of the Resistance? Givin' em a TRIPLE annual bonus and the end of their tour. TRIPLE. That's enough fer'me to buy back my old bar back in Texas."

The girl soldier rolled her eyes. "Please. You could buyback that shithole for a couple bucks. No... I'M going to use my cut to pay my way through school. Study journalism. Always wanted to work for a paper."
(...)

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#, as written by Nemo
(..)
The mage coughed. "I'm not sure if I... WANT to retire. I'll take my cut, but I'll prolly' stay working for the TNG." He scratched at his chin. "I saw a lot of shit in the war. I don't think I'm ready to give up being a soldier just when I finally started being one."

All eyes turned to Locust.

"How about you?" the scruffy trooper cocked his head, "you quittin' when your tour is up and splittin' with the cash? Or you staying on board for another term?"

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#, as written by Nemo
"S'that so?" the scruffy marine laughed, nudging Locust as they walked. Although a bit surprised, none of the troopers were terribly aghast at Locust's haggard appearance. They'd all seen worse in the war. "Well don't just stop with the beds. Mine as well find yerself' a pretty lil' girl while you're at it. Maybe two or three. Chicks are suckers for war veterans." Scruffy laughed, looking over his shoulder and winking at the girl marine. "...ain't that so, Losi?"

Losi rolled her eyes. "Please, Tryk. If you EVER think you have a chance with me... or ANY sensible, sober girl with a pair of eyes... then you've got another thing coming." The girl smirked, swinging the butt of her rifle forward and playfully knocking at Locust's bottom. "...at least Locust here has a rough charm t'him. You may not be the prettiest thing in th'world to look at, but that's part of what makes you pretty."

The mage kicked at a rock on the street. "I had a college girl before I left to join the Resistance. Haven't seen her since I got back on-planet." He shrugged. "Not even sure if she's alive anymore."

"Ooh, is it sob story time?" Tryk laughed, "I've been waiting fer'this! Buncha manly men tellin' stories and showin' off battle scars..."

Losi rolled her eyes. "Tell us about your girl, Mike." she nodded to the mage.

"Her name was Danni," he nodded, rolling one of his shoulders forward, "I was studying Arcane History at the University of Southern California. She was a poetry major." He sighed, scratching at his head. "Shins invaded. Half the U went to shit in the bombings. I lost two of my best friends." He coughed into his fist, careful not to pack TOO much emotion into his story. "So I joined the Resistance. Spent one last night with Danni before taking what little I had left and siding with the good guys. One year later, here I am..."

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#, as written by Nemo
He smirked, gesturing to his uniform. "...lil' bit taller. Helluva' lot more muscly. And... well... not quite a kid anymore." He shrugged. "I only hope she hasn't changed as much as I have."

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#, as written by Nemo
All of them laughed at Locust's antics. Tryk seemed especially happy to finally get someone in the squad with a sense of humor.

"Shit man, I dunno' if I like those Taiyou types," he feigned a reluctant expression, "too short n'shit. You seen the tits on those women? Sub-par. I like my babes with a lil' meat on'em. Same as you, apparently."

"Shut the fuck up, Tryk," Losi groaned, "you'll fuck anything with a heartbeat and you know it."

"Oh-ho. Wouldn't you like to find out..."

The two traded gibes for the next few minutes. Mike circled around them to Locust, tapping curiously at his robotic arm.

"They really took that, huh?" he seemed sorry, "that musta' sucked, man. Losing your limb. I can't even imagine..." He shook his head. "...how'd it happen? Did it get taken off fighting, or did you just wake up one morning and it wasn't there?" He laughed, slinging his bolt rifle over his back.

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#, as written by Nemo
"Awww! Ain't that the cutest!" Losi ran up to Titus quickly, slinging her rifle over her shoulder as she rummaged through her pockets. She looked back at Tryk. "You!" she snapped, "get over here and leave somethin' for the children!"

Tryk rubbed the back of his neck uncertainly. He scanned over what little possessions he had. "Uh... you think they'd want a plasma grenade..." He held the charge up humorously, bursting into laughter as Locust emptied his magazine into the box.

Mike jumped back as Locust offered him the detached arm. "Holy shit!" was laughing now, "that's pretty fuckin' cool! Almost makes me wish I had one of my own."

Losi, meanwhile, was putting a small bundle of credits into John's box. "Don't pay them any mind," she rolled her eyes, "they've been on tour too long. It's nice to see a charity organization still at work in the world." She smiled. "Who did you say you represented again?"

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#, as written by Nemo
"Awww shit, I'd love to have a fuckin' robot arm!" Tryk slapped his thigh, "go around, punching through shit..."

"How the hell would you do that, masturbating as often as you do?" Mike quipped.

Tryk was about to respond when he suddenly seemed genuinely concern. "...my god... you're right..."

Losi was doing her best to drown out the other marines. "Here, why don't you take this as well," she reached into her belt, retrieving a small silver necklace. A small jewel was embedded the middle. "I looted it on Ragnarr. Thought I could come back and sell it for a pretty penny... but with this pension I'm getting, I really don't need anymore money. You go ahead and make it worth something." She smiled at John, placing it in the box.

"Aww well damn. Now that Losi's gonna be a sob..." Tryk rolled his eyes at Losi's selfless display. He reached into his pockets, placing a bundle of credits into the box himself. He glared at John. "...now don'choo go off an'sell this for liquor or some shit. It's fer'the kids, right?"

Even Mike came forward, rummaging around in his belt for whatever he could find. "Here." He held up a small, engraved rune. "This is an Illusion Glyph. Enchanted it myself. When I was lonely, I'd activate it and..." Mike's fingers passed over the stone, and immediately a brilliant spiraling galaxy of energy pooled off of the glyph. It was a perfect model of the Milky Way.

"It's sort of like 'Google Earth'," Mike smiled, "except for... y'know... the galaxy. You can visit any planet in the Milky Way. I even enchanted some of the moons into it, too. Now that I'm back on planet, I don't really need it anymore." He tossed the glyph into the box.

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