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| Wounds | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 5 2015, 08:29 PM (88 Views) | |
| Ares | May 5 2015, 08:29 PM Post #1 |
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Former Board Moderator
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The Tartarus Gate was a spiderwork structure combining a shipyard station, silica harvesters and processing plant, as well as a series of Quantum Gate arrays. Only one at the moment was functional and connected to another gate just outside the nebula that housed the small system of Beta Arietis. As such, when the Kharon returned through that gate, the golden hull was bathed in the blue/white glow of the twin stars at the heart of the system. It spiraled through the open gateway and came to a slow spinning halt just below the belly of the Methuselah which was hooked up to the Tartarus station via it's umbilicus cables. Until the refinery was fully socked and functional the great flagship was playing the part of its beating heart. Aboard the Kheron, Ares stared out of the observation level platform at the almost celestial glow off the hull. His eyes followed the sharp clean lines of it's structure, the flowing pylons of it's chassis, up to one of the two spinning crystals that served as the foci of great and terrible power. He didn't have to worry about enemies, didn't have to struggle to make allies. This one ship alone would be more than a match for any of those who had come to the summit, hologram or vast fleet or not. Numbers counted for nothing against the force he could bring to bear. So why was he so vastly troubled now? Flexing one hand in the palm of the other, he examined the Hand of Fate gauntlet he'd spent nearly a decade in crafting. He exhaled faintly as one finger traced the intricate workings of the gems and crystal fixtures. Weapons designed to defeat a single foe. A single enemy. In this reality, that enemy was supposedly gone, victim of his own hubris, as he had been in any reality before it. And yet, that troubled sense still lingered. He half turned, glancing over to the hooded figure of Discord, conversing in light tones with Melisande, the nervous Micha at her side, Varis not too far off cradling a glass of wine and regarding them like the Wolf he would one day perhaps become. He had all the makings of family here, all the building blocks of a stable world, a stable empire. Why then, did this nagging unease fill him with a desire to strike out? Turning to look slowly up at the majesty that was the Methuslah, he racked not only his mind, but his psyche, for the source of his trouble. And as he regarded the flight of Scorpion fighters passing by on a patrol of the central system, he recalled an event that brought him up short.
Ares slowly looked down at the Hand of Fate once more, tracing the central palm with a fingertip. Discord noted the shift of his posture, the stillness to his earlier agitation, and the conversation grew quiet. She broke slowly from them and glided over, drawing the hood back from her pale gold tresses and angled her head up to him. Delicately and slowly she raised hands and rested them on his forearms, getting his attention off the gauntlet. His eyes met hers a moment, and the Hand of Fate became a slow fist. "What is it?" her concern touched him enough to bring him out of his thoughts, as he knew it was genuine, and he reached out to stroke a thumb along her jawline. "I am minded I have work to do, a promise made is a debt owed... and it has gone on long enough..." None of those in the room were present for what he was talking about, and so all of them were vaguely uneasy when he turned without a word and left the observation deck. |
![]() "Nemo me impune lacessit - No one provokes me with impunity.' | |
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| Ares | May 16 2015, 10:54 AM Post #2 |
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Former Board Moderator
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"Methuselah"- Quantum Hangar Ares entered one of many of the modifiable storage hangars within the Flagship, this one modified for height and floor space, much like a large holding cell more than a hangar. The original generation Wolves that had joined him on that once upon a time were gathered in a loose circle within the room; Gladiator Lanier, Templar Ulrich, Gladiator Rūk, Templar Magnus, Gladiator Yoshi, joined by Rom, Stern and Zypher. Stern held his swords already drawn, as did Yoshi and Lanier, while Ulrich and Magnus stood beside barrels. Zypher took a central position, her modified Amazon suit gauntlets more like a Fury's so she could protect the door. The assembled group watched as Ares took a small data engram out of a padded box, turned his right inner forearm upward, and pressed the segments just below the wrist of the Hand of Fate. The panel opened, and he removed the existing crystal replacing it with the one from the box, then gestured everyone back against the walls clearing the center of the room. All watched as he slowly extended the hand and his helm flowed up into solidity, granting access to the quantum emitters in the palm. After a moment of hesitation, his fingers flexed and the crystals hummed to life, a ripple of distortion forming a few feet above the floor, and out of it fell the half decayed battle scarred ancient Unas that was Hades. The figure fell with enough mass to make the floor plates shudder, and Rom made a quick gesture and it took both Lanier and Ulrich to move the battle axe away before Hades could get his bearings. After having been in quantum stasis for going on two years, as well as the sudden change from the previous environment, it was highly disorienting. Wasting no time, the crystals on Ares' Hand of Fate shifted hue, the quantum emitter turning off, and the Tabula Rasa powering up for a quick pulse that made the large body shudder and groan and then go still as the crazed mind of the Unas host was effectively wiped clean. The goa'uld within, potentially just as mad as the body, paused to take note, slowly raising to hands and knees, looking down at the black crystalline hull floor. The horned head turned one way then another, disfigured almost half skeletal face regarding his own arms, then the ring of people around him looking in comparison like glittering deities. All the wolves, including Rom and Stern, had their helms up, eyes lit, liquid crystal hackles raised. Then he saw Ares, not in the black battered armor he'd last seen, but pristine gold, the spartan helm regarding him, the Hand of Fate crystals dimming as he lowered it to his side. With a gesture of his left hand, Magnus and Yoshi moved to the barrels, taking off the tops which emitted a steam from inside, then tipped one from either side. The storage room floor was designed with a slight concave, and so the sluggish material that poured out of each barrel flowed into the center where Hades resided. Synthesized from the readings taken from the 'Fountain of Youth', the water was rich with restorative properties, and when it flowed around the crouched figure, it added to the already impressive regenerative properties of the Unas host, and the goa'uld within. Almost visibly, the battle damage from the fight with Wepwawet and Ares in the hidden chamber on Olympus began to knit, rotted damaged flesh sloughing off to be replaced revitalized and renewed. Hades hadn't the time to process it all, and Ares counted on the disorientation to make him hold still for the process. When Lanier had been hewn in half, and frozen, the process had taken twenty minutes. Still alive, though just barely by the looks of him, and not frozen, the process took less time. In ten minutes, the Unas was restored even better than had a sarcophagi been used, and thanks to the Tabula Rasa, there was only one voice within his skull; his own. "What ... mysteries .. unfold around me?" The voice was still a deep baritone, but the awful phlegm gurgle was gone, and the rasp of his breathing as well. Ares stepped closer, as the pool of restorative water, it's purpose complete, began to evaporate as it broke down into a pure oxygen steam that Hades breathed in deeply, raising to his knees and sitting on his heels. Even in this position, he only had to look up a foot or so to meet Ares' eyes as the helm receded into the armor. "I made you a promise, Uncle... despite your protestation that it wasn't possible... I intend to restore you..." The horned head tilted, thin lips pulling back from serrated teeth in a parody of a sardonic grin, "Restore me? ... Why?" "Atlas is gone, Ra is gone, Zeus long dead as well as many countless others. Our race borders on the brink of self annihilation. You are the last of what remains of what family I have, and besides myself, possibly the oldest among us yet living not driven mad by the overuse of the sarcophagus technology." The Unas regarded Ares then the rest of the room and it's occupants that stood ready to launch into motion at the first sign of danger, giving a grunt through his flattened nose and another as he rose to his full towering height. Another tense moment passed as Hades took stock of himself, his restored body, his partially quieted mind, rubbing his temples and forehead with slow motions and taking deep slow breaths as if assessing is ability to breathe. "I feel ... better...But you mustn't trust me, Nephew. I do not know the extents of the damage wrought to my psyche ... but whatever you have done to me, it is ... " he paused, as if listening, "better..." |
![]() "Nemo me impune lacessit - No one provokes me with impunity.' | |
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| Ares | Jul 1 2015, 09:41 PM Post #3 |
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Former Board Moderator
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Days had passed since the restoration of the old god Hades had taken place, and a kind of hush had blanketed the small quadrant that was the Dominion of War. In that hush, they were not idle, only focused and alert, waiting on many things to happen. They waited for response from the outer realms to the proposal put forth by Ares, and the formation of a council. They waited for outside forces to attack in answer to the proposal. They waited for Hades to go mad, or emerge from the quarters provided him aboard the Methuselah. The construction on Beta Arietis graduated from foundation to structure, as the Grecian architecture began to take shape. The floating asteroid field began to be cultivated, it's odd self contained harmonious gravity as undisturbed as possible. A vast shipment of silica and raw materials was stockpiled, and a portion was set aside after building needs were established and met. The three moons of Cerebus were scouted and surveyed for construction sites for the new Gryphon Arie, Tower of Discord, and Prime Academy. The Tartarus Gate and Array were completed and construction of replacement Chariots and their supporting complement of fighters began. All the construction would take many months to complete, but it gave them all something to focus on. Aboard the station, secluded in one of the rooms, Ares stood in the center of an array of several holographic displays. Behind each one, stood or sat a pair of Gryphons, and attendant Amazon. Each board played out a real time assault strategy on the Dominion territory by estimated external forces, and as each played out, the Trinity teams moved figures around as if commanding their forces, not in defense, but in assault. Ares moved from one to the next, shifting this or that, keying commands, defending each assault using what forces they had currently. He wore his black toga attire, and the Hand of Fate glittered in reflection from the strategy table light, his bare feet making quiet padding sounds as he moved from station to station. All the stations gave off a faint gold glow, but one began to shift spectrum, turning red as the trinity team behind it began to breach the defense in place. They were using the scanned resources and estimated forces of the Kualpush Republic, and what tactics and maneuvers they'd seen used in conjoined conflict. The Dominion forces were hard pressed to hold off against the vast number of unmanned drones the Republic was capable of mounting in an instant, and the fields of radiation they could produce interfered with the quantum slipstream in unpredictable ways. Ares stopped near the station, watching figures shift heavily toward defeat, then slowly, calmly, shifted one ship around sweeping his fingers over the defensive line. The Kheron was moved from the back of the line and the dreaded Quantum Pulse Cannon was employed do devastating effect, forcing the simulated Republic forces to either withdraw and redeploy, or press the attack with manned ships. There were a few good natured groans as the red hue shifted back to gold, simulation numbers and estimated outcomes drifting back into the Dominion's favor. Ares gave a solemn faced nod at the trinity behind the station, and spoke quietly. "Make notes to send to Lex. Perhaps something in the Banshee can be altered to inhibit or at least interrupt the command signal for those drones." He received nods, and the simulation was restarted, and he moved on to the next. Hours later, he was in the practice hall, halberd extended with it's weighted end planted near his heel, surrounded not by Gryphons, but Wolves, Amazons and Furies now. All of the men wore the loose fitting mesh leggings that were usually under the crystalline armor, while the women had the mesh body suits the Discordians and Furies wore under their armor. However, they were all armed with true weapons; greatswords and dual swords, hand and a half axes and pole arms, caster bows and the trained Furies had their gauntlets primed. There was three full Trinities squared off, with Ares in the center. All was stillness, and silent, until without order given, the redheaded Stern gave a bellow as he launched into assault. Taking up the cue the other three former gladiators charged, their defending former Templar partners close behind. The battle was pitched and heated, but each had been warned not to go lightly, to approach the excersize as if it was truth, and their lives depended on the outcome. The previous training of this nature had just been Romulous and Stern, but on Zypher's urging, had expanded to the full Prime Trinity, and then now, to two others. It was an excersize in trust, in skill, in improvisation for none of the technology or protection of their suits save the Fury Gauntlets was in use here. Only raw, honed talent. However outnumbered, however he was attacked, Ares managed to always come out on top at the end, though not unscathed, suffering several slashes, and bruises from the blows that did manage to land out of sheer attrition. The end of the day was one spent in silence, sitting cross legged on a balcony looking out at the blue/white tinged corona of the binary star at the heart of the sector, watching the serenity of the emptiness of space and trying to clear his mind of the clamor of numbers, and equations and tactics, seeking the peace he always strived for and only rarely achieved. Tonight was no different, the artificial atmosphere of the station feeling stale and cloying. It would be many weeks before any planet based settlement was stable enough to support residency, and though they did not complain, he could tell the people were restless. Spending day in and day out aboard the three remaining ships or the station was not a life. There was a chime at his door, and he shifted his head faintly so his peripheral could focus on the door before speaking. "Enter." Zypher glided through the door into view, a pair of shadows passing the door and murmuring to her quietly before it closed and she approached his back. She regarded that scarred back a moment, before moving to quietly kneel and sit on her feet next to him, looking out into the stars trying to capture what he was seeking, before turning to look at his profile. "The Survivor is loaded and ready. Who will command?" He considered a moment, before taking eyes away from the cosmic view. "Misha's trinity." She gave a smile and nod, and made to rise, but he put a hand on her shoulder to forestall her departure a moment. They sat in silence a long while, staring out into the space that was their new home. After a while, he determined that company didn't make his efforts to seek that inner serenity any easier, and patted her hand gently letting her go. She did quietly, moving from the residential section of the station to the command center and keyed a com channel. "Tartarus Station Command to Survivor." A moment passed and a voice emitted from the station console. "Go ahead Command." "Lord Ares assigns Misha, Varis and Melisande command of the mission. Expect their arrival with departure itinerary." "Clear, Command. We will be waiting." Closing the channel, Zypher regarded the glittering hull attached to the station's mooring arm, speaking quietly to herself. "All debts shall be paid..." |
![]() "Nemo me impune lacessit - No one provokes me with impunity.' | |
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| Ares | Jul 24 2015, 04:09 PM Post #4 |
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Former Board Moderator
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Weeks had passed since the failed attempt at a political summit, and no word for or against from any who had attended. Ares stood on the balcony of the almost completed foundation of the New Olympus pantheon and watched as warrior and engineer alike worked toward it's completion. The blue/white glow of the twin suns reflected eerily off the silica and snow of the rough terrain, making it almost glow from all directions, and the gold and bronze hued structure stand out like a point of flame in a otherwise monochrome landscape. The Survivor had departed a day prior, loaded with trade supplies on it's first envoy, and Ares was just turning to check it's status when a pair approached him, holding out a flexi report wordlessly. Frowning faintly he took it, glanced it over, and looked up. "How long ago was this?" The young technician glanced to the Gryphon escort then back, speaking up when the first just tilted his head. "Less than twenty minutes, Lord. It came from an outer rim sector. We recorded the transmission of course if you would like confirmation of it's contents." Ares folded the flexi with a snap of wafer thin transparent circuitry, and let it fall lifeless on the floor as he padded toward the stair to the temporary Fury Gate set up for transit to and from the Tartarus Station. In a matter of moments he was aboard the "Methuselah" and giving commands. "All hands prepare for departure, I want us moving in five minutes." Used to random deployment drills, the crew responded with alacrity, and within three, the large flagship was pulling away from the now self sustained station. Stern and Rom came up to the command deck as Ares was stepping into the holographic control chamber, it's glowing sides raising and giving him full access to the systems of the large vessel. Wordlessly the pair took up flanking positions along the rails, watching as he pulled up various system screens, a muted video recording of a man in ornate and overly decorated clothing spoke with a contemptuous expression, the words in a text format in another screen, next to coordinate back tracing for the source which he then fed into the navigation array. "We get a response? A call for help maybe?" Rom said, knowing more than likely by the stone expression of Ares' face, and a few choice words like 'failure' and 'imposter' and 'illigitimate' in the video text that was more than likely not the case. Ares didn't bother answering as he fed his route equations into the main jump drive, and began the spooling process for the large energy requirement. Stern gave Rom a sidelong look and gripped the rail around the platform, remaining silent as the flagship of the Dominion of War opened a transit gate, and proceeded through. To ... |
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1:52 PM Jul 11