Sunday, April 29, 2007

Dominion, Back-Info, Dalaquen System

Just some background information on the Dalaquen System and its inhabitants. Not done, but gives a general idea of just two of the species I'm playing around with.



The Dalaquen system, home to seven planets, Dalaquen I through VII, although Dalaquen III is more commonly known as Gre'kuquen, and Dalaquen II, which is more commonly known as Gre'Dakan, the only two habitable planets in the system. It is also home to two highly volatile and sentient species, although those two sentient species both originate from the third planet in the system. Between Dalaquen V and Dalaquen VI is the Dakan asteroid belt, which is home to the Dalaquen Sovereignty Pact Space Mining Authority. The seven planets rotate about a yellow primary, Ankra Jhrakis ("Mother Light"). Dalaquen I is a solid sphere of molten rock. Dalaquen IV and V are both gas giants, either with numerous moons. Dalaquen VI and VII are a solid chunk of rock and a gas giant with rings respectively.


Located in the Dalaquen system, the first of two habitable worlds, it is the oddity as it never once in its existence produced sentient life. Second from the yellow primary, it is commonly referred to as "Dalaquen II" on galactic star charts.

Gre'Dakan lacks any major mountainous regions and is made up primarily of water and long island chains, tropical and sub-tropical. It lacks any major resources, and much of what is found on the planet can be easily found and mined on other worlds. Instead, it is used largely as a park and resort destination.


Located in the Dalaquen system, the second of two habitable worlds, it is the only world in the system to produce sentient life. Third from the yellow primary, it is commonly referred to as "Dalaquen III" on galactic star charts.

Gre'kuquen is a windy world covered in large strings of tall mountain ranges and empty plains. The northern hemisphere is swept by tornadoes and wind storms constantly, as well as a barrage of meteorites on a yearly basis; the raging storms is caused by the oscillations of the two orbiting moons of Gre'kuquen, Dasque'taque and Kuquen'tar. The southern hemisphere, punctuated with the only ocean the planet has (fed by the many lakes that dot the planet), is home to a near-hemisphere-spanning desert. Due to the higher axis-of-rotation of this strange world, a long, continuous mountain range spans the axis-of-rotation, or equator. The planet itself also has a higher than normal gravity, 1.5 times the norm, for an Earth-sized planet.

The world itself, while habitable, has temperatures lower than what is considered a human habitable standard, caused by a farther orbit from the primary, Ankra Jhrakis ("Mother Light"). because of this, growth seasons are limited, making for vegetation that is long lived but goes into hibernation during the longer winter season. Also, what vegetation there is on this planet doesn't grow over two meters in height, the majority being various kinds of grasses, roots and and tall, blossoming flowers--this is due to the ravaging storms that easily uproot taller plants. The majority of plants display a diffuse root system designed to anchor the plant down so the scathing winds don't affect it; however, the more edible variations of plant life have a more taproot like structure. There are also kinds of fungus that grow like a moss in the rockier regions that are also edible. Some produce a milky sap that is used for foodstuffs by the Galandrian, as the sap is high in nutrients and has a high sugar content. The plant most prized by the Galandrian of Gre'kuquen, however, is the Delyar cacti that grows only in the desert regions. Its inner sap contains the sweetest substance known to any species; the Galandrian use it to manufacture many of their universally prized sweets.

The Vadasian, who were relegated to the mountains long ago in wars against the Galandrian, make their home among the winding ranges, eking out their existence along the sheer rock walls of the many ravines and valleys. Often they cut steps into the crooked and twisting mountain ranges to act as fields. Their cities literally cling to the rock walls of many ravines and mountain sides, with bridges of artistic stone passing between the two. The Galandrian, however, have created a series of warrens deep under the plains of Gre'kuquen, hidden away from the blistering winds. Underground travel routes connect the various underground sections of Galandrian warrens. Specialized carriages moved passengers and cargo through the tunnels. There are many warrens so large as to earn names and likened to above-ground cities in both size and scope. The only species other than the Galandrian to ever set foot in one of these gargantuan maze-like warrens are the Vadasian, a privilege earned after years of peace between the two races.


When the first scramble for sentience began on the windswept world of Gre'kuquen, two species both gripped that sacred chalice of thought and looked into each others eyes. It was at that point that the bloody, violent and gruesome war between the two species began. Before they had been sentient they had fought against each other. But once they learned to make weapons and devise strategy, they fought all the harder. However, it would be an ill-fated day for the Vadasian early in their history. One of the earliest recordings in Vadasian and Galandrian history, passed down in stories and myths, was the Great Victory and Great Defeat, whichever side you happened to look at. It was the first time in these two respective species' history that they collaborated against one another in pitched conflict. But it was the Vadasian who would lose, and in losing, were banished from the plains to eke out an existence in the mountain ranges.

At that point, the once united Vadasian would splinter, forming into twelve distinct clans and sixteen slave clans. The Galandrian would also splinter, forming the seven major clans. Once the Vadasian were gone, the Galandrian turned to in-fighting to see who would get the spoils of their conquest. This is the only thing that kept the Vadasian from being purged from Gre'kuquen, it gave them to time to flee and to lick their wounds. It would also make them harder in the long run. Throughout the entwined history, the two species waged wars against one another. The Vadasian evolved within their mountainous environment. It changed their development, probably for the better. The Galandrian, however, were anything but stagnant on the plains.

Border conflicts between the two species continued as they developed. Each side going into the others territory and raiding the other. Pitched battles were kept to a minimum, since both species had gotten such a population base that going into and outright attack in the others territory was always suicide. Both species continued to in-fighting up until fifty years before humans came. At that point, the Vadasian again united under a single leader, the Jhaheit, or "Supreme Leader." Vadasian had reached a dark age society, partly tribal, partly Renaissance in flavor. They began experimenting with art and sciences. The Galandrian united fifteen years later after the Vadasian did, instead forming committees instead of a single ruler.

Thirty five years later, the much more technologically advanced humans arrived. The Vadasian and Galandrian were both awed by these near hairless, white skinned creatures who had strange powers and abilities. At first, the Vadasian and Galandrian revered these new creatures as Gods come from the skies because of their powerful "magic." However, the tides turned. These new creatures began to hunt the Galandrian. The Vadasian took this for a good omen, as the humans were killing off their long hated enemy.

The Vadasian, though it should be noted, are partially telepathic. They could not read the minds of the humans at first, but became more familiar with their minds during the interim years the humans were there. A total of three years the Vadasian watched from their high mountains as the Galandrian were hunted, always getting closer to understanding the human mind. It wasn't until the Galandrian finally killed a human that they were swayed. These creatures were not gods, and when they were done with the Galandrian, they reasoned, would come after them next. This is the turning point in Vadasian/Galandrian history, where the two species unit completely for the first time against a new, common foe. During the night of Betlheit Kohne ("Black Moons"), where no light except the stars shone, the Vadasian and Galandrian waged a pitched battle against the humans. Their losses were great, but they were hundreds of thousands where the humans weren't.

They won at cost, but won. And with it, they had the human technology. With the telepathic Vadasian reading the thoughts of the humans before they died, they were able to interpret the new technology. Within the first two decades, the Galandrian and Vadasian, still united against this foe beyond the stars, advanced technologically in leaps and bounds. Within two centuries, these two species were on par, if not more advanced than their galaxy-spanning counterparts. Their next encounters with the various species around the universe would be a series of bloody wars as the Vadasian and Galandrian pressed outward, intent on destroying all other species before again resuming their age-old conflict against one another.

Saturday, April 21, 2007

Creating New Weapons

The Create-a-Weapon list has been updated. Check it out. More to come when I make 'em.

Thursday, April 12, 2007

Dominion - Threat Counter

-> Planetfall

0500 Hours, 3.23.5E50
Akagassiz System, Kyatzet V

It was in an area far toward the Northern pole of the planet, a section of landmass continually beset by small asteroid strikes and shooting stars. A small northern continent covered in ice, kept cool by the axis of rotation at which the world occupied in its arc about its solitary blue star. It was also the perfect location for entry to the world based upon a long-range planetary survey.

On schedule, during one of the later months of the year for the world, a usual hailstorm of asteroids fell to the planet surface, cascading in bright arcs, the air turned to incandescence by the overheated oxygen brushed up against the accelerating meteorites. Hidden among those meteorites, however, was an alien object. True, it looked similar to the falling rocks, sloughing off random bits in its descent, but closer inspection would yield something curiously shaped. Roughly needle-shaped in design, with four fins set at equilateral points around the craft, the curiously-shaped false-asteroid was coated in a ceramic that burnt up during entry, coming off in chunks. A simulated meteorite.

It struck the ground like all the meteorites before it, sending up a plume of snow, dirt and rock to splash about the impact crater. There was no wreckage; the vehicle had landed on four stout claws that had extended and absorbed the most crucial of the shock before vomiting the sole occupant from the craft to send him spiraling through the air, arms pinwheeling to keep himself upright in his parabolic arc. He hit the ground feet first, but instead of crumpling with the impact, rolled with it and came up into a half-leap before going into a full-out sprint away from the impact site.

Another twenty minutes of combined running and short antigrav bursts later and the figure was well outside of the impact site. He now only had four days to accomplish his task.

-> Objective Reconnaissance

1324 Hours, 3.25.5E50
Akagassiz System, Kyatzet V

The burning orb of a sun was placed high, past the midday mark, and did little to warm this barren wasteland. Sergeant Drenard Romyal had trudged through it, taking a whole day to reach his target, a lone outpost hidden in this Northern climate. High walls topped with razor wire, guard towers with infrared sensors and search-lights. Drenard's initial scans had also found laser trips at all major junction points along the roads, as well as vibration sensors set in a grid pattern about the base in a five klick radius.

A solitary, ice-encrusted road twisted through the banks and dunes of snow, dirt, rock and ice toward the complex, flanked by guard posts and check points at regular intervals. One way in, one way out. It made observations fairly easy for the Vadasian agent who had dug himself in for the remainder of his time here. The mission was observation only, no need to engage unless necessary.

After hours of watching, Drenard had determined the high fence about the perimeter of the complex was a kind of harmonic metal. He figured it was designed to cut through anything, or anyone, that happened to press up against it. It wouldn't be a smart thing to go placing ones hand through those wires unless one wanted to part with the appendage. He thought it was a rather interesting thing, and made notes of anything that might prove useful for reverse engineering.

While he was watching the base, taking care to keep track of guard positions, patrol routes, numbers and other miscellaneous information, he cataloged that various species of plant life that happened to pop up through the snow encrusted landscape. A few unhealthy looking scrubs caught his eye, but what really intrigued the Vadasian was the crystal-like tree that had a kind of azure-colored bark with an inherent glow. The branches shot off from the rocky bough in right angles. All was taken in. Information was vital, and it was best to know what kind of species one was dealing with before initiating first contact.

The species in question that he was so vapidly watching were, as the briefings called them, the Jyet Nyural. A species that while appearing humanoid were far from it. Underneath the human-like skin was something completely alien. Drenard had to wonder how such a species would evolve to look human, but then reminded himself, that most species had obtained some kind of appendage with a thumb for fine manipulation of tools or its surroundings. Also, it wasn't as though Drenard were the only one pulling down this kind of mission duty. There were more than a half-dozen others doing the same. It was all preliminary stuff, feeling out the species to get a handle on their military power and infrastructure, not to mention the political climate among other factors.

He had to get inside and had an idea as to how it would all be accomplished.

Drenard wore a white jumpsuit with gray accentuation points along the more armored portions. The suit was an exoskeletal bodyarmor, a derivative of Echo armor, code-named ECE Gekt. The suit was capable of color changes, its neutral color being black. It was also equipped with a cloaking device, a device that would play an integral part in allowing the figure entrance into the complex itself. He engaged the cloak and waited.

Hours later a vehicle, what looked to be a cargo truck, appeared over a rise in the road, heralded long before by the low, echoing thrum of its strained and aging engine. He watched and waited as it grew ever closer to the guardpost. Seeing this as his chance, Drenard dashed from his hiding place, careful not to send snow flying or leave footprints from his movement; the cloaking device was engaged also so as not to suddenly draw attention to the solitary figure making way for the lone guardpost. As the truck came to a stop, breaks squealing, Drenard slipped himself under, hanging to the undercarriage easily.

He watched the guards go about the vehicle, using hand-held sensor devices to find anything wrong. They looked in the boxes in the back, checking over manifests to see that all was in order. Once everything was checked over, which was at least an hour later, and finding no sign of the insurgent clinging to the bottom--a guard had even looked under and had Drenard not had his cloak engaged, would have been staring the guard in the face.

The engine started up, warbling to life in the cold, before it set off toward the next checkpoint. Five hours and several checkpoints later, the truck came to a halt, backing into a receiving bay where its cargo could be offloaded. This is it, Drenard thought, releasing himself and rolling out from under the truck. Now the real mission started.

- - -

He swung with his left arm, his armor expanding upon his own strength and the speed of the swing. There was a resounding thud that echoed down the hall accompanying the whoosh of air that left the creatures lungs as it impacted with the mirror-like metal walls leaving a body-sized dent mark. He crouched low, casting wary glances left and right and up the corridor.

Drenard tried to piece together the small nuances of information he had. Programs analyzed the situation leading up to the contact. The species, when properly augmented, could 'sense' his presence. He had scanned this Jyet Nyural, had noted the presence of several bionanonic hardware, and then had been attacked. Either the creature had gotten the feeling of being watched, or the bionanonic augmentations had foretold that there was something nearby that was not an ally. Either way, it meant that Drenard's cloak wasn't as completely impervious as he'd like.

Taking a last look around, he began to retrace his steps. He now needed to get out, and fast. I wouldn't be long before the alarm went off, not with a dead body lying here. Before he went, though, Drenard stood up and went over to the crumpled form of the Jyet Nyural and began doing a series of complex scans of the body. The polymorphic metal of his right arm changed shape and he stabbed said appendage through the creatures abdomen, taking a sample of both creature and the bionanonic augmentation. Both would prove valuable. Then, turning, he began up the corridor, his left arm transforming as commanders were sent from his central nervous system to the Echo armor that he wanted the laser cannon ready for use.

The transfigured forearm was elongated, stretched an extra half foot beyond the original position of Drenard's hand, turned into a barrel, the inside seeming to glow a puke-colored yellow-green. He stalked up the corridor, using his infiltration software to compromise doors and systems to allow him passage back the way he'd come.

- - -

He was flung backward with the force of the blow, his shields sparking wildly, completely opaque from the blast alone. Drenard managed to spit out a curse under his breath. He was afraid for his life, downright fearful. He slammed against a crystalline tree, snow falling from the branches above to fall onto his over-stressed shields before being repelled. He groaned with pain, rolling onto his side and getting an arm up underneath himself to move into a standing position.

Explosives and him didn't mix, especially when the explosive rounds were being fired by a group of enemy troops.

Once he was up on his feet again, he began running, his feet sending up long plumes of snow behind him. He found a small rise and dove into it, lying prone with his rifle clasped neatly against his chest. His HUD brought up a cross-hairs. He targeted the lead figure and squeezed the trigger.

A single lance of blue light flashed out to hit the figure squarely in the chest, knocking him back off his feet and into a waiting comrade. Drenard didn't wait to see if he was dead, turning his weapon and switching to the concussive grenade attachment. He pulled the trigger on that. The accompanying explosion sent dirt, snow and ice into the air along with the leftover entrails of the soldiers caught in the blast.

He blinked on his COM icon.

"INTDIV NAVINS, ID 273-900, requesting extraction, coordinates--" he rambled off a string of numbers.

Another Jyet Nyural appeared to be walking in the blast cloud. Drenard pulled the trigger on his rifle again, knocking him flat.

"NAVINS 273-900, this is BL11, extraction confirmed. Coordinates are 275, 341--taxi is on the way."

Drenard felt faint. He had five klicks to cover now to get to the zone where the dropship would pick him up. Grunting, he pulled himself up off the snow and began to run. Just what he needed--a blotched mission to report when he got back.

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

Dominion - Crumbling Enterprise

The night isn't young anymore. She's old and lying down in the midst of her oh-one-hundred-hour stroke. She isn't going peaceful, either. There's turmoil. A lot of gagging, coughing and ratcheting noises. The mobs outside are screaming for blood. The city is one large riot. Three towers were destroyed, all in the down-town core. Hundreds are dead, more are dying. He can't even think about the carnage that he's done. The only thing running through his mind is that he's done a job, done it well, too.

The planet is Delgucwain III, in the Melbasa system. A part of the Lyzrantii Dominion Empire. It's at least a part of the protectorate. A lot of martial law is going to be put into place come tomorrow when the big ships arrive after news of the atrocity hits Lyzrant. What was it? The planets entire electoral eligibles shot, two major corporation boards murdered, two financial institutional buildings destroyed, and the planetary senate brought down in a torrential ruin. It'll be a while before this planet gets out of the new economical slump its about to be plunged into.

There's only a few people who knows he did it. Not that it matters; there's no evidence to prove it, not even to a proper court. The Dominion Empire wouldn't even dare lay a finger on him, either. All his papers in the right order. If something happened to him, there'd be an inquiry. The Gre'kuquen Republic would even go so far as to start a war if things didn't pan out in the end in their favor, if he died.

Who was he? A lowly sergeant in the Gre'kuquen Confederation Navy. An Intelligence Division Naval Insurgent. A group designed to infiltrate, spy on and disrupt the enemy. Too bad for everyone else that the Gre'kuquen Republic considered everyone en enemy, even those it was at peace with.

Sergeant Olek Visarett-Romyal strode from the apartment building quite pleased with himself. He could hear the sirens. The last explosive had detonated approximately five hours ago. In that time, Olek had set his final affairs in order. The ship he had was going to leave from the spaceport in three hours, whether he was on board or not. Plenty of time. It wouldn't take long to get there, probably thirty or forty minutes. The skylanes and surface roads were dead. Most everyone was glued to their intra-neural sensorium, siphoning off information as the government, what was left of it, and emergency crews, released it to the news agencies. It was complete and utter pandemonium. Olek loved every moment.

His glistening black shoes tapped out an up-beat rhythm as he stepped down the marble stairs of the wealthy high-rise. He turned to the figure clad in a red jumpsuit with same-colored overcoat, told him he wanted a fare to take him to the spaceport, waited for the confirmation, and stood in place.

The night never looked so good in her agony.

Monday, April 09, 2007


I changed the template. You won't notice unless you've bothered to come here before and take note of what was there and now is gone. In other news, meh?

Sunday, April 08, 2007

WPCA - Jenny Rexrew

Jenny Rexrew was average. Well, as average as a tall, scrawny, fifteen year-old girl with acne and glasses could be. She didn't even know if she had a figure, draped under her heavy, baggy clothes as she was. She never put much thought into it. Her goal was to be as unobservable as possible. She didn't like standing out, slouched a lot. Being five-eleven and fifteen, it was kind of hard to do that.

With her sleeves rolled up past her elbows, she washed dishes. Jenny worked at a restaurant, this little Taiwanese joint on the corner of Smith and 11th that catered to various business types. She never saw the noonday rush when the place got flooded; she just worked the weekend shift. She was giving up her weekend now, scrubbing away while the afternoon rush wore off and the last of the plates and glasses and silverware came in.

"When you finish, you go, come back later, at five--okay?"

Jenny shrugged and nodded, adding "Sure thing, Mrs. Xuang," before going back at it. When she was done, she ducked out the back door and onto the alleyway adjacent to the street. A quick stretch of her lanky frame and she shoved her hands into her pockets of her hoodie and began walking in a hunched-over don't-talk-to-me and don't-touch-me way.

She lived five blocks away in an apartment complex with her mom and her younger brother, Lennard, a five-year-old punk of a brat that was spoiled and made Jenny wish she were dead. Her parents weren't together anymore. Her dad was an alcoholic. It was better he wasn't there. He used to beat Jenny when she was little. Jenny sometimes thought she still had the bruises.

The building was this projects thing, straight out of the seventies, with a concrete neo-surrealism look with chips and pock-marks. Dark water-stains slashed the building lengthwise. Jenny walked in through the front door, through a trash-ridden lobby done in 1980's style fake wood paneling into an elevator that smelt of urine and booze with fresh stains, probably from last night. Stabbing the fifth-floor button, she waited as the doors clashed closed. Tapping her foot, she waited for the door to open. It did with a gurgled ping and a grating sound. She decided to take the stairs going down.

The halls looked much similar to the exterior and lobby. Brownish, yellow-green stains with black plastic bags and beer bottles covered most of the floor space. Jenny thought there was a man sleeping under a pile of dirty clothing in the fifth-floor lobby. She didn't want to check. There was a path that wove between the piles for "home."

Home was 5 3. It was actually 533, but one of the numbers had gone missing a year back and nobody had bothered to replace it. Slipping the key into the lock, Jenny entered softly, closed the door the same way and twisted the deadlock knob back into place as quickly and quietly as she could. She sloughed off her once-white runners and began to tip-toe toward her room.

"Jennifer? Is that you?" a voice called.

Defeated, she said, "Yeah, Mom."

"Oh, good," her mother said. "I need you to go to the store and get me some things."

"But, Mom, I just got back from work, and I have to go back in a couple hours."

"It won't take long."

Jenny's mom wove into view from the living room to the right. A similarly tall woman, blonde hair that had seen one-too-many bleaching's, lips that were a strange shade of grey, dead looking brown eyes and a frail looking figure. She stood in a silken bath robe clutching a cigarette and puffing fumes like a smokestack. Painted nails and face, she looked like a cheap doll.

"But I gotta work later," Jenny said.

"It's only a block away," her mother said.

She knew she wasn't going to win. Sighing, she muttered her acceptance. Her mom rattled off some random crap they needed. Milk, eggs, other various goods. Jenny was slipping her feet back into her runners when she dropped the real bomb of the conversation: "Oh, and could you go and get your brother from David's?"

David was the new boyfriend that Jenny had suspicions was a pedo. He liked spending way too much time with Lennard. She hated him. He was just so creepy, and he gave her weird looks when he was around, and she hated how her mom would invite him in and fuck him in the middle of the night and how they'd groan away. And he smelt like booze and cigarettes.

"Yeah, fine," Jenny said. She slammed the door on the way out.

Jenny went down the hall, down the stairs and out an emergency exit onto a side street. She resumed her previous walking habit, keeping her head down.