Dragon Star, Sci-Fi RP (Open)

[MachDhai]

OOC: Take your classic fantasy setting, and have it invaded by a galactic empire of Elves and Dwarves and Humans and more. All the classic fantasy races, still gifted with magic and arcane talents, but with an overwhelming technological might that allows them to spread across the stars and bring other backwards 'Black Worlds' into their fold.

The story will likely jump a few years further from this point, moving the story ahead with each push. Starting from a simple Prince, moving onto a young crew member, eventually to be the Captain of a pirate ship pushing to over through the current tyranical rulers of the Dragon Empire.

I'm not huge on planning ahead; simple ideas to build a bit of a frame work is fine with me. This RP is open to anyone interested, and characters could be of any origins you might want, from planets of any level of technological advancement up to something similiar to the 'Star Wars' setting. Energy weapons and force fields, robots and fantastic machines. Magic is still common place in the Empire, often used to bolster technology.

See the 'Advanced Interest Checks' if you want to ask any questions.

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He felt as though he were floating outside of his body, gazing up at a sky black with storm clouds and smoke. The weight of the world was lifted from his shoulders, there were no responsibilities, no pain or fear or hate. There was no sound, no warmth or color either, just him and the ugly sky above. There was a flitter of doubt through his mind, a sense that there was something more, something important. His mind cast out, and memories began to return to him.

He wasn’t floating, he was falling; chunks of stone and sparks of flame danced around him, searing heat seemed to engulf his entire body and a horrifying sense of vertigo washed over him. It came back to him in a flash of realization. He had been commanding from the wall when the enemy had brought their sorceries to bear, blasting the ancient stone apart like it was nothing.

The dark skies left his view as he twisted through the air and regained his bearings. He landed hard on the wet flagstone courtyard, turning the jarring impact into a hasty roll to save his legs. The vertigo was back fiercly, and by the time he came to a stop he was forced to remain seated for a time just to get it all together. The sounds of battle roared in upon him, soldiers yelling orders, the familiar twang of bows and creak of catapult and ballista.

He pushed himself to his feet, trying to ignore the bodies of the dead that were littered amongst the broken stones that had once been the wall. He didn’t need to look far to find his sword; an impressive relic of the Empire that had been passed down for a thousand years. Clearly built for battle with a five foot single-edged blade and thick cross guards over a twelve inch hilt. A two handed weapon, unwieldy from horseback or courtly affairs. It was blade down into the thick courtyard stones, and he grasped it’s hilt as he regained his feet, wrenching it free.

Everywhere he looked there was death; a terrifying bolt of light burned a hole through the clouds above to strike the gatehouse of the castle wall. The soldiers there didn’t even have time to scream; bright light beamed out of the arrow slits and doors, the silhouettes of the soldiers evaporated like mist, and then the entire structure exploded, a rain of molten stone starting fires and searing flesh from bones.

More holes appeared in the clouds, and great steel diamonds fell towards the earth. Orders were called, the people in the courtyard began to scatter towards the cover of the walls and Keep. He stood his ground, looking towards the flame-lit horizon that had once been his city, the capital of an Empire that spanned half the world. It all lay in ruins now, tens of thousands were dead and this was the last bastion of resistance. He wished he could tell himself they had fought well, that the invader had paid dearly for every mile and that all the fighting had been worth something in the end.

Because by morning, it would be all over. The steel diamonds crashed to the ground; some seemed to steer straight for the courtyard as if they were living things, while some few landed beyond the walls. Just short of the ground they sent out intense waves of blue flames that seemed to slow their fall. Their massive weight and terrible heat turned the stones to rubble. And he started running towards the nearest before the flames had fully died.

Seams formed on the featureless metal of each steel diamond. The sides dropped away like the moat bridge of a small castle and metal-clad figures started to pour out. They weren’t much bigger then his own soldiers, and carried arcane artifacts that fired bolts of magical energy with incredible speed and accuracy. Even the finest of armors were useless against them. But while they had proven time and again that his soldiers were no match at range, the battles tipped ever so slightly when in melee.

The invaders piled out, eager to do battle. None expected the Prince of Lushakana to be waiting for them. Their armor was nigh impervious to sword and axe, but the Imperial Sword was known for it’s keen edge. The invaders struggled to bring their weapons up in time but the fifteen year old boy was upon them with all the ferocity of a young man that had lost everything. The first swipe of his blade cleaved cleanly through the lead two’s torsos, sending broken corpses spilling to the still bubbling stones.

More of his men charged in; they had nothing left to live for. Many of their families had been living in the Imperial Capitol, which had vanished under a day and night of fire from the skies in the opening days of the Invasion. The prince had been away, campaigning on the northern front against the Orcs, that had grown riled up in the past few months as some of their darkest prophecies began to unfold, and had rushed back with every soldier the border forts could spare.

With nothing left, they fought without fear. The Invaders weapons sliced through them without compromise, but some still got through to close with them. Great metal birds dropped out of the clouds, moving with unnerving grace. From leagues away they fired metallic ballista bolts towards the castle that left trails of smoke in their wakes, like demonic birds. The ancient stones of the main keep had withstood assaults both arcane and mechanical, even the rampages of a dragon in the early days of the Empire. The stones of the north tower still bore the black marks and gashed stone, kept as a reminder of their past victories.

The strange bolts pierced the thick stone easily. Something happened within and the massive stones cracked and buckled. Within moments the Keep was lost; what few soldiers survived escaped onto the walls or out the main gate only to be cut down by more of the enemy. Another portion of the wall exploded, and enemy soldiers began to breach the first. Stones and arrows bounced off their strange armor and more of his men were cut down in seconds. It was over.

The moment his spirit broke with that realization, the magic of his blade died, leaving the sword trapped in the freshly hardened flagstone next to one of the strange steel boxes. Tears welled up and the horror of everything that had happened these past few days caught up with him as he took in the big picture. More of the steel diamonds were falling from the sky, another flight of the metal birds released more of the darts into the hulking remains of the keep.

The invaders seemed to clue in instantly that the leader of the resistance was broken. The aggression stopped as more of them poured into the defenses, their arcane weapons aimed threateningly at what few soldiers remained. He fought for control, hands shaking desperately on the hilt of his sword before he finally accepted the truth and let go. He raised his arm, and the word spread with tired voices; the surrender was ordered. An era was over. Humankind had been defeated by the Outsiders.

He turned slowly, the dirt on his face streaked with tears. One of the Invaders moved towards him, their odd weapon carelessly passed off to another. He was surrounded by a full dozen facing him with weapons trained, and near two dozen more had made an outer circle facing out. The armored figure stopped in front of him, staring down at the fifteen year old boy standing in the midst of the bodies of invaders he had killed.

The invader reached up, unclasping their helmet. Needless to say, he expected all sorts of terrors. And to find the dark skin and pale red eyes of a Drow staring back at him was amongst them. She might have been beautiful if it weren’t for the scar across her cheek and the unruly tangle of stark white hair crowded beneath her helmet. The cocky look in her eyes and the victorious smirk didn’t help either. “Wise choice, child. Why in the Nine Hells these fools would follow a little boy is beyond me.”

She cast a glance at the bodies at the Prince’s feet then met the slowly growing look of defiance in his eyes, “Down boy. It is over. We have a full suppression fleet in orbit. We can turn this planet into a molten rock in a matter of days if you want. It will be a bit harder to mine this place to a lifeless rock, but my life will go on.”

He didn’t understand what she meant. He understood her words, the language was the same, but what she was describing had no base in his mind. Fleet? Of ships? What was orbit? His men were being rounded up, stripped of their weapons and sat in great clumps in the broken courtyard. None had the will to fight. Word had spread quickly, cries of dismay and shattered hope when the magic in the Prince’s sword had failed, a sure sign that the war had been lost.

The young Prince watched them with a haunted expression, and shirked away from their eyes. He felt guilty, that he had failed them, all of them, and now their Empire was dead. As the last traces of resistance crumbled away all he had left was his broken pride, and he quietly squared his shoulders and stood to his full height, falling short of the Drow woman’s armored chest. It took him a moment, but finally he met her gaze again, “I wish to negotiate the terms of our surrender. I am the last heir to the throne, and accept full responsibility for your fallen.”

She looked to him again, that grin returning with a sarcastic, arrogant air about her. “That you will. Your people will be spared. Welcome to the true Empire. The Dragon Empire. What is your name boy?”

He fought to hold his pride, to meet this monster’s cruel gaze without flinching. It was hard, she was one of the dark races that had plagued his Empire’s people for centuries. Bastard cousins of the fair race of Elves, bent on slavery and cruelty of every kind. And they had conquered his homeland, his people would now be their slaves. It was a sickening thought, leaving his heart heavy with the horrors of what would come of his people. “Prince Ericks, son of King Danze and Queen Alliandra of House DaleGuard.”

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Five years later…

Lieutenant DaleGuard sat with twenty three other young men and women in the passenger hold of a Griffin Shuttle. None were past their twentieth year and had just graduated from Officer training at the prestigious Odysious Prime Fleet Acadamy, specializing in all sorts of fields from simple pilots and navigators to science and languages. Some even had two or even in rare cases three specialty fields gained from long years of intense training.

He was one of the rare few with the widest range. Military Tactics, basic qualifications piloting a variety of small craft and working towards the big ships of the Fleet, and Stellar Navigation, surprising considering he had come from a ‘Dark Planet,‘ the common term for any world still in a pre-gun powder age.

His background had caused him no end of grief. Students and even instructors had tried bullying and taunting him throughout his years of training. He had been deemed a trouble maker, who despite an uncommon knack for learning, would never amount to much. Always fighting, arguing, no respect for his superiors. And an uncommon hatred of the Drow, made painfully evident from dozens of fights with students of that heritage.

Each of the students had their personal effects, as well their uniforms and equipment. For most, it meant luggage with clothes and knick knacks. For him, it meant a very out of place leather backpack of surprisingly high quality even for Imperial standards and a tattered crest of his old home’s army that he had refused to remove, and a hulking brute of a sword strapped into the webbing behind him. It wasn’t uncommon even in the Fleet for members to wield such archaic weapons, but his was in a league of it’s own by their standards.

The shuttle was bound for a courier ship that would then head to the nearest Fleet shipyard to deliver the young officers for assignment to whatever planet, ship, or station they were bound for. Most would be scattered to the ends of the Empire, with himself destined for the Gales Roar, an old Patrol Cruiser that had been in service nearly three hundred years. A training ship that had crew constantly switching out over four year postings.

The trip by shuttle lasted three hours, during which most of the passengers chatted and laughed and took pictures with friends they might never see again once they reached the ship yards. He sat in silence, staring out the porthole across from him and watching the stars pass by, wondering both what the future held for him and how his homeland was faring under the Empire that had conquered it.

He had no idea where it was despite all his efforts during his training. It was standard practice, to deny such knowledge to recruits with origins such as himself. They could cause no end of trouble given the chance to return to their home planet, often trying to incite rebellions. Much easier to simply deny them the chance to return.

When the shuttle finally reached the courier ship, they docked without incident and the young officers began the arduous process of gathering their belongings and going aboard. They were met by other young people, regular crew Ratings, that would show them to their quarters, all insisting it was an honor to have the future stars of the Fleet aboard their humble ship.

It was a cruise liner, a massive pleasure ship that glided through the stars, often used by the wealthy or those lucky few who might win a free trip for one reason or another. A comfortable way of traveling between systems for those on business errands, and often employed by the Fleet to help move personnel in small numbers.

Ericks was the last to step aboard, most of the other young officers having already been lead away by their eager guides. He had grown quite well in five years, from the strapping young boy who had lost his world to a broad shouldered twenty year old man already sporting the stubble of what might soon be a modest beard. Just over six feet tall, he rivaled most of his human counter parts in height, and a strict fitness routine in the Academy had seen him bulk out a bit.

He was no hulking brute, but he had a powerful figure that would only grow more so as he matured more fully into manhood. Close cropped brown hair was perfectly combed and hidden away underneath his peaked cap, and somehow the strange leather backpack he carried in hand and the heavy sword belted over his shoulder seemed to suit him all too well. Years separated from it during his training had done little to dull his familiarity with the blade.[center]