Setting
Surrounding and stretching between galaxies, there is a rarefied plasma that is organized in a cosmic filamentary structure known as the intergalactic medium. Orphaned stars and gaseous blobs meander their way through this maze of emptiness, making for a desolate wasteland of nothingness.
Note: Factions may expand beyond the galactic boundaries, ascending to the rank of Intergalactic Empire.
REQUIREMENTS
- Group must contain 10 or more active players
Note: Factions may expand beyond the galactic boundaries, ascending to the rank of Intergalactic Empire.
REQUIREMENTS
- Group must contain 10 or more active players
Intergalactic Space
The wide expanse between galaxies is a desolate swath of dark energy and orphaned stars known as Intergalactic Space. Nothing good can come of here.
Minimap
northwest |
north |
northeast |
west |
You are here. |
east |
southwest |
south |
southeast |
| "in" to The Averus Galaxy » | ||
| "out" to Uncharted Space » | ||
Intergalactic Space is a part of 
Space.
5 Places in Intergalactic Space:
39 Characters Here
Meldraenei [67] She was once an angel...now she has been assimilated by Aiyanna...she has returned
Douglas Weskit [61] Mars Corps. Familiar Face.
David Malachite [61]
Helga Rotfeuer [61] Mars Corp. has a new Spellcasting Warrior.
Verror Esmonar [58] A travelling warrior with a draconic side
Bamboo [55] First Contact Traveler and Diplomat
Obake [39] Majister Obake (formerly Minstrel Obake) is the Royal Ambassador of the Sith Empire under Darth Morviel, and of the Asphodelian Princedom of Sin Asphodel, as well as a capitalist with a monopoly over Utonium alloys, Etherine and Pyramite crystals.
Sin Asphodel [39] Sin Asphodel is the Assassin Prince of a old and powerful kingdom secluded in a forgotten galaxy at the outermost limits of the multiverse. Sin is second in line to the Throne of Asphodel.
Shine Erutin [35] Princess Regent of GIH
Gesa [15] "I find that loyalty is easy enough bought, if you offer the right price."
Start Character Here »
Atik stood outside of a ship, a decently sized vessel made for a crew of about thirty people. It had advanced weapons, shields and stealth systems, with multiple backup generators and life support systems. It was one of the most efficient ships that Atik had ever seen, and the speed was unbelievable, surpassing even that of the smuggling vessel they had used to leave Terra in the first place.
Atik himself wore no suit, only a simple mask he wore over his mouth and nose to convert dark energy into air he could breathe. as Tacita landed and suited up, he approached her vessel and waited for her to come out to meet him.
Atik himself wore no suit, only a simple mask he wore over his mouth and nose to convert dark energy into air he could breathe. as Tacita landed and suited up, he approached her vessel and waited for her to come out to meet him.
Tacita Secemere walked out with a mask on to help her breath, finding it annoying to try to put on the suit in the manner the instruction had called for. The ship landed automatically onto the surface, and she left through the door as soon as it would let her.
The first thing she locked her gaze on was Atik. "Couldn't wait for me to wake up, hm?" She said, looking around at the crew then back to Atik. "Sounds like you are the holder of my leash for now."
The first thing she locked her gaze on was Atik. "Couldn't wait for me to wake up, hm?" She said, looking around at the crew then back to Atik. "Sounds like you are the holder of my leash for now."
The Spartan sat down in the control deck of her Longsword fighter, rubbing her temples in frustration of the earlier events at the Bar. She was more depressed and lonely without the constant nagging of her AI. She never truly realized how much that little AI really meant to her. Now Cally just roamed around Space, stopping at base to base just to refuel and gather a little bit of money to keep her ship in order
"Things have changed...their is no more work anywhere for this old Spartan anymore. The UNSC has degenerated into nothing and that idiot Freelancer never gave me a lick of her time. What else is there?" She asked the air and then set the ship on a course for the next UNSC base, about two light years away. With that done, she began to strip off her suit's armor using a machine in the rear, leaving her in nothing but the neural suit and the nakedness of the ship
Alone...she was truly alone in Space
"Things have changed...their is no more work anywhere for this old Spartan anymore. The UNSC has degenerated into nothing and that idiot Freelancer never gave me a lick of her time. What else is there?" She asked the air and then set the ship on a course for the next UNSC base, about two light years away. With that done, she began to strip off her suit's armor using a machine in the rear, leaving her in nothing but the neural suit and the nakedness of the ship
Alone...she was truly alone in Space
False. She was not alone. The inherent nature of VARIAtech's existence meant that they were everywhere all the time. Time and space meant nothing to them; for VARIAtech, everything was here/now.
That being said, it was at that point that a familiar looking wormhole would open itself in front of Noble 7, stubborn in its absolute silence. Out of the luminescent blackness, however, did not come the familiar form of the wheelchair bound Bartleby Jeltz, but a simple black prism, rotating slowly on its vertical axis. It illuminated a silvery color whenever it spoke.
"Spartan Number S-263, Cally Tallyedge; greetings. I am Nealaphh, representing The VARIAtech Consulate. How are you?" it spoke, its voice soft and patient.
That being said, it was at that point that a familiar looking wormhole would open itself in front of Noble 7, stubborn in its absolute silence. Out of the luminescent blackness, however, did not come the familiar form of the wheelchair bound Bartleby Jeltz, but a simple black prism, rotating slowly on its vertical axis. It illuminated a silvery color whenever it spoke.
"Spartan Number S-263, Cally Tallyedge; greetings. I am Nealaphh, representing The VARIAtech Consulate. How are you?" it spoke, its voice soft and patient.
The Spartan jumped a little, something uncommon for a Warrior such as her before tilting her head "Hmm VARIAtech huh? I wondered when you guys would have work for me. It seems like forever since you sent me any contracts" She said then turned around to go to a small stove and set a kettle on it to boil "I have been better...since your company disappeared, money dried up and now ontop of it my AI unit is now deceased so it has been rather lonely" She said and turned away, trying to keep her face clean and smooth before turning her head
"Do you...cube thing...want a cup of tea?" She said, obviously playing the role of a host in the middle of space. How odd indeed!! "Also where is Jeltz?"
"Do you...cube thing...want a cup of tea?" She said, obviously playing the role of a host in the middle of space. How odd indeed!! "Also where is Jeltz?"
"We apologize for the lack of freelance work we have available. We would like to make up for it with an offer, but it is not something you should consider lightly." Nealaphh said, hovering noiselessly next to Cally.
"Our company has not disappeared, per se...rather it has gone through...a merger of sorts. We now exist as an inter dimensional gestalt entity. To put it in other words, a very exclusive nation. We would like to extend you membership."
"Our company has not disappeared, per se...rather it has gone through...a merger of sorts. We now exist as an inter dimensional gestalt entity. To put it in other words, a very exclusive nation. We would like to extend you membership."
"Well obviously I havent got much to loose anymore" She said and turned to lean against the bulkhead, pointing to a pistol laying next to the hammock where Cally slept. It indicated a rather strong weakness within the aging Spartan soldier before the cube "Membership into a Nation? Interesting...is it a world? Or perhaps something else like a ship? Explain to me cube what this nation is it?"
"A world...A ship...A fortress...it is all of these things. I can show you, if you would like." it said simply, waiting patiently for a response.
She nodded gently and took out a mug from a locker and poured herself the tea quickly and stuck her feet into her boots, letting them lock around the neural interface suit then let the arms come down over herself to attach her plates and once this was done, sipped her tea "Sure...lets give this a shot. I got nothing else anyway...lead on Cube"
"Very Well. Reconfiguring spatial slip." Nealaphh said. It began to rotate quickly, emitting a ringing chime sound. The wormhole that still lingered aboard the vessel closed for a moment, then reopened, a blinding light now shining through it.
"Step through when you are ready." Nealaphh said, before floating through the portal.
"Step through when you are ready." Nealaphh said, before floating through the portal.
She felt safe enough since it was VARIAtech and only packed her two Energy swords into her hip holsters and took another sip of her tea then stepped through the portal. This should be interesting....very very interesting
The Cybran Battleship HDS Frisla. A one Billion ton monster.
As the Battleship slowly moved forward, towards the meeting place of which the Drachen was meeting a group of people on a floating area, above a planet, the Captain of the ship, newly promoted Admiral Starship watched as they approached a massive chlorine gas cloud in the middle of space. The gas could be collected and used for military or research propuses but the battleship was not a research or a retainer vessel.
The crew on the bridge were active, walked around to their places as it was early morning in the Nation's Standard Time, 0600. Starship swallowed, making his way to the command seat in his dark grey uniform, a few soldiers in black uniform walked around, including two Generals and a minister from the Nation watched from the window.
As the Battleship slowly moved forward, towards the meeting place of which the Drachen was meeting a group of people on a floating area, above a planet, the Captain of the ship, newly promoted Admiral Starship watched as they approached a massive chlorine gas cloud in the middle of space. The gas could be collected and used for military or research propuses but the battleship was not a research or a retainer vessel.
The crew on the bridge were active, walked around to their places as it was early morning in the Nation's Standard Time, 0600. Starship swallowed, making his way to the command seat in his dark grey uniform, a few soldiers in black uniform walked around, including two Generals and a minister from the Nation watched from the window.
The People's Ship Redlit had fallen, all hands lost, and shortly after fell the Free Ship Greenlit, her soul-sister, despite her mission of mercy. Mitczet, who would have burned along with his fellow patients if panic hadn't driven him to a space-station on the edges of neutral space, grieved, for his heart and future had been waiting for him on the Redlit.
But still, in the depths of his broken heart, hope lingered; if he had driven himself from the hospital ship before she had met her doom at the hands of some cold warship, then the chance remained- he didn't think it, but it whispered to him all the same.
And so he waited, in the bowels of nowhere, broken and crippled, for a sign that all was not lost.
But still, in the depths of his broken heart, hope lingered; if he had driven himself from the hospital ship before she had met her doom at the hands of some cold warship, then the chance remained- he didn't think it, but it whispered to him all the same.
And so he waited, in the bowels of nowhere, broken and crippled, for a sign that all was not lost.
HDS Frisla turned quickly to go towards the Space Station, her crew wanted to show the minister and General's what she was capable of with her new bodywork and weapons. It was a brand new ship from an almost new class of battleship, over one hundred or so had been made on the North Sector of the Cybran Nation.
The space Station came into view as it launched a few squadrons of Wasp fighters to kill anything it seemed as a threat. There was a Public space station nearby for people that strangely wanted to explore the depths of Intergalactic space.
The Admiral stood up and walked to the window to look out at the station with displays appearing on the glass.
The space Station came into view as it launched a few squadrons of Wasp fighters to kill anything it seemed as a threat. There was a Public space station nearby for people that strangely wanted to explore the depths of Intergalactic space.
The Admiral stood up and walked to the window to look out at the station with displays appearing on the glass.
The station was harmless, and unarmed; few that lingered in the outskirts could afford weaponry, let alone the wrath of the militia if they were caught with those who could operate it. Where the Empire wandered, all things bowed to submit, but Mitczet was no longer afraid of death- his worst fears had already been realised long ago.
The Soldierstock were gone, the human war effort nothing more than shattered shrapnel floating in space. The refugees of humanity that remained were like Mitczet; crippled beggars, who scrounged for cast-offs and told stories to those aliens who would listen.
The Soldierstock were gone, the human war effort nothing more than shattered shrapnel floating in space. The refugees of humanity that remained were like Mitczet; crippled beggars, who scrounged for cast-offs and told stories to those aliens who would listen.
The ship started to get ready to dock with the tiny station, soldiers ready to storm it in case it was filled with the never ending threat of the Aeon. The ship was ready as it docked with the station, ruined parts of ships floating around it.
As the ship docked, the soldiers pulled on their final pieces of equipment, ready to go out through the air lock to the station. There was a few officers, cocking their weapons. It had been a long war with both the UEF and the Aeon just to take on Galaxy but whom knew if there were more.
As the ship docked, the soldiers pulled on their final pieces of equipment, ready to go out through the air lock to the station. There was a few officers, cocking their weapons. It had been a long war with both the UEF and the Aeon just to take on Galaxy but whom knew if there were more.
Mitczet Makt sat on the metal decking in the bowels of the station, unaware that they were being boarded; there was no automated warning system, hadn't been for years now that the place had fallen into such disrepair, but without weapons or a full compliment of escape pods it wouldn't have mattered. To him, it mattered even less; he couldn't very well run away.
When the first, uneasy sounds reached him he sighed, leaning back against the wall behind him and closing his eyes, hoping to go unnoticed. As thin and ragged as he was, left leg totally missing, right cropped short above the knee, he looked little like a threat and could likely pass for dead if he stayed still enough.
When the first, uneasy sounds reached him he sighed, leaning back against the wall behind him and closing his eyes, hoping to go unnoticed. As thin and ragged as he was, left leg totally missing, right cropped short above the knee, he looked little like a threat and could likely pass for dead if he stayed still enough.
The Cybran soldier's walked aboard, doing room to room scans with weapons raised before the officer checked his readings and told a soldier to take his gas mask off, which he did, followed by other soldiers. The life support systems where still working but some ceiling parts where missing.
The officers slowly started to look for any papers or anything as the soldiers continued on, checking bodies for heat or for breathing. Then they came to Mitczet. The soldiers swallowed before checking with thermal to see that their was still body heat.
"Lift him back on ship?"
"Dunno. Serge?"
"Yes."
The officers slowly started to look for any papers or anything as the soldiers continued on, checking bodies for heat or for breathing. Then they came to Mitczet. The soldiers swallowed before checking with thermal to see that their was still body heat.
"Lift him back on ship?"
"Dunno. Serge?"
"Yes."
Mitczet opened his eyes when it became obvious that his continued existence had been discovered, but pale and glazed and so uncommon in this part of space, they did little to make him look more alive. He hadn't had a mirror in what felt like years, and even when he managed to heave himself up he never could quite reach the reflective plexiglass of the portholes, but he knew how he must look and it wasn't an image he wanted to change, when faced with such men.
I have been in the company of good men, he thought to himself, And bad ones.
These, of course, were the latter, and he had no intention of showing any of the spirit he still possessed lest they take it from him.
I have been in the company of good men, he thought to himself, And bad ones.
These, of course, were the latter, and he had no intention of showing any of the spirit he still possessed lest they take it from him.
The Sergeant looked at him, swallowing, "Get him on ship. He needs Medical help."
The other soldiers nodded, a female offering her gloved hand to help him. She swallowed, "You want me to lift you into to medical help?"
The other soldiers nodded, a female offering her gloved hand to help him. She swallowed, "You want me to lift you into to medical help?"
Sighing faintly, and giving up the pretence of being dead in favour of fixing his new 'saviours' with a weary (but non less cutting) stare, Mitczet huffed. "I would far rather you did the universe a favour and improved your grammar, actually. I know reading has gone out of fashion and fine literature is just so much toilet paper, but for the love of Earth can you at least use one of the seven point six million universal translation programs available in this sector alone to make yourselves sound less like idiots?"
With a derisive snort, Mitczet turned his head away, folded his (trembling) arms, and proceeded to glower at the walkway above his head. "I refuse to be abducted by someone who cannot even form a proper sentence in the common tongue. If you care to repeat yourself, and articulate, then I might reconsider. Don't be intimidated to speak in your own tongue; some of us are multilingual here."
With a derisive snort, Mitczet turned his head away, folded his (trembling) arms, and proceeded to glower at the walkway above his head. "I refuse to be abducted by someone who cannot even form a proper sentence in the common tongue. If you care to repeat yourself, and articulate, then I might reconsider. Don't be intimidated to speak in your own tongue; some of us are multilingual here."
"Sir, ich werde Sie das noch einmal fragen. Möchten Sie an Bord des Schiffes kommen und medizinische Hilfe?" ("Sir, I will ask you this again. Would you like to come aboard the ship and get medical help?") She sighed, looking around. She hated English but knew that was the tongue that most people talked in within this area.
The Sergeant sighed, turning to check the other bodies for anything that could be classed as a trophy of war. For the Kids of course.
The Sergeant sighed, turning to check the other bodies for anything that could be classed as a trophy of war. For the Kids of course.
"I wouldn't particularly like to, but I seriously doubt that I have a choice in this matter," Mitczet remained speaking obstinate Human Standard, but it was obvious that he knew exactly what the others were saying. "And given the choice between going with you and remaining here, when you are most likely to detonate this station, or perhaps invade- I think I would take the latter of two evils, don't you?"
Mitczet's smile was dry, sarcastic, and edged with a frailty that he was unable to hide. "Do what you will, Officers." He closed his eyes again.
Mitczet's smile was dry, sarcastic, and edged with a frailty that he was unable to hide. "Do what you will, Officers." He closed his eyes again.
The woman shook her head, pissed. She turned, arming her weapon with rounds. She attempted to pick him up, wanting to take him to the Medical station on the ship, "Up."
The Sergeant turned, holding a badge of another Cybran Ship. "Scheiße" ("Shit.") He turned to report this in. Not good.
The Sergeant turned, holding a badge of another Cybran Ship. "Scheiße" ("Shit.") He turned to report this in. Not good.
Mitczet Makt did not take at all kindly to being manhandled by strangers, but there was nothing he could actually do about it that wouldn't result in him being dropped or shot. Hauled into the soldier's arms, he closed his eyes and tried to imagine that it was Rammon holding him, rather than some dictator's attack dog. It was an effort; Rammon was sure and strong, far larger than Mitczet even when he was whole, while the woman who lifted him would likely have been shorter than his standing height.
"I am not a dog," he wearily reminded her. "'Up' is a command that I can't follow, and there is no logic at all in saying it while lifting me."
"I am not a dog," he wearily reminded her. "'Up' is a command that I can't follow, and there is no logic at all in saying it while lifting me."