The Founding of the Sanguinary League: An Event for Empire!5

[Gaius Hermicus]

On the planet of Phakhtal, in the Taurina I system, a new occasion has begun. The League of Blood (Sanguinary League), a new organization, is being founded by the Rothuun Minotaurs, who are also celebrating the coronation of Aneb Two-Gun to Urthuun of the Galactic Hegemony. Two events of such import do not often fall together, and the occasion is being celebrated by a party on a scale that has almost never been seen on Taurina I. Denizens of all stellar powers are invited, but those traditionally antagonistical to the Rothuun are warned that the berserkers, thrill-killers, and warlords enjoying the festivities will not take kindly to insults, and the Rothuun leadership may well turn a blind eye to crimes committed against Vilari, Celenians, Tal-Amanyn, or Rass.

Aneb, the soon-to-be emperor, hosts the event in the Urthuun's Palace. It has recently undergone major renovations for the celebration. The main structure can be accessed by a landing strip outside of the palace, where the ships of those building will be escorted by the Rothuun guards. Inside of the building, an immense, domed structure forms the entry room. It is large enough to fit approximately one thousand Rothuun, but is only filled to one-quarter capacity at the moment. Entertainment comes in a variety of forms, everything from sparring matches to games of poker. Additionally, a number of musical acts are scheduled to perform, and visitors are welcome to take their own turn at the mic. Guntur Greataxe, who considers himself a great connoisseur of art and music, has promised a prize to the performer he likes best. A variety of food, drink, and narcotics are available free from vendors situated around the room, free of charge to foreign visitors.


Aneb Two-Gun: The current Urthuun sits at his throne, taking tribute from his subjects and greeting visitors. Anybody who wishes to join the Sanguinary League should meet with him to discuss terms.
- To defend the sovereign borders of each member nation against external threat.
- To defend the right of any nation to use the power that they have deservingly amassed for whatever purposes they desire, regardless of the arbitrary moral standards of other powers.
- To guarantee a voice for all powers in the galaxy, in a specially organized League of Blood council, to present their opinions and to request aid from League members.
- To defend the right of free ideology, and the manifestation of those beliefs in whatever way the faithful see fit, regardless of the arbitrary moral standards of others.
- To pursue technological advancement, both civilian and military, and to allow these advancements to proliferate among League members.
- To ensure that nations maintain the right to defend their limited resources by any means necessary, including by force if they see fit.
- To eliminate all who seek to prevent a power from using the powers that they have earned due to an arbitrary moral system, including, but not limited to, the so-called Star League, which has for too long imposed their will across the galaxy and prevented nations from achieving their ultimate potential.

Guntur Greataxe: The prince of Ikhal is standing next to the stage, coordinating the entertainment. Anybody who wishes to join the music competition should speak to him. Prizes for the winner!
Anybody wishing to join the music competition should roll 2d6 + half their leader's Diplomacy score (rounded up), with an additional +10 bonus awarded for the submission of an original poem. The poem should be at least six lines long, and must rhyme! The more cringe-worthy, the better.

Ty-Rone: The prince of Grishal is sitting in a corner with his assistant Haerthala, watching the sparring matches. Anybody who wants to join a sparring match should speak to him. Prizes for the winner!
Participants in the sparring match may fight against each other, or against a Rothuun. Anybody who wins a match will be given a chance to fight against the other winners in a Grand Tournament, the winner of which will receive a prize. Contestants may choose whether or not their fight is to the death. Contestants should roll 2d6 + their leader's Military score. If a general is the competitor, the general's score may be used.

Bephik Axemaker: The High Priest of Iteus is drinking in a corner with his Rainbow Octopus servants. He is an antisocial bastard covered in tentacles. He has no competitions to offer. Talk to him at your own risk, or if you want tantalizing hints dropped about plot secrets.

Dihau Stargazer: The Regional Governor of Planet Caravan is medically insane and speaks in poetry only. Although he has no contests to offer, he will be the Rothuun entry into the singing competition. Speak to him for more plot-secret hints.

Autha Snapneck: The Regional Governor of Niconia is playing in the poker game. Speak to her if you wish to gamble, with prizes for the winner.
Anybody who wishes to play in the poker game must make a wager. It should be a minor fluff payment, roughly equivalent to 1000 USD (make your own judgements about how this translates into Space Currency). All participants will roll 2d6 + their leader's Economy score, with the winner receiving all the wagers, as well as the Rothuun prize.

Markath Frostfur: The King of Thurtal is patrolling the palace, looking for troublemakers. He is heavily armed and loves violence even more than the average minotaur. Approach him with extreme caution. He has no plot secrets or competitions to offer.

[Miltonian]

The Lyraens, naturally, are in attendance. This League of Blood is intriguing at least, even if they don't have any intention of joining at this moment. No, they'd have to become much more fascist first.

For the first time, Mish Lyrae makes a public appearance not draped in some overly-costly and flowing dress. Instead, she is here in war-dress. A tight-fitting jumpsuit (grey, but embossed with red and gold trim) and a cape compliment her mask, which is now worn as the front-piece to a helmet that leaves her ears, but not much else, exposed.

Attending her are Proxos (as always these days) and Rhia Vulk. What mischief the elder Luminary is planning, none can say, but it is sure to be amusing. To him.

First things first, of course. While Proxos and Rhia go to amuse themselves, Lyrae moves off with two guards to greet the new king. While the guards stand at a respectful distance, she approaches Aneb. "And to the victor go the spoils," she says, blunt and to the point, "Well, you made it this far without dying, and I don't mean to be the one to change that." She spends a moment looking him over and chuckles. "Plus, I pity the one who tries."

=====

Rhia has one destination in mind. The Rothuun may not be considered the most artistic, but there is one in particular who she would argue is artful. And it is him she intends to find. She heads for the poetry competition and waits patiently for Guntur to notice her.

=====

Proxos, however, is drawn to trouble. Newly battle-hardened from his fight with the Same ("Things got a little hairy there. The side of my bridge got blown off. Had to summon up all my tricks to survive that one."), he is eager to both talk to an old friend and maybe try his skill at combat. Therefore, he goes to find Ty-Rone.

"Ty-Rone, you magnificent beast," he declares as he approaches, arms held wide, "How are you?"

[Tentreto]

As much as the Duenem were preservers of life, they were diplomats and conciliators, so once again they found themselves leading a delegation into a blood sport. To Conditoner Mint, better for blood to be spilled in minute quantities than across a thousand worlds, but the Duenem were in no doubt that the Rothuun were becoming more and more dangerous. But neighbours were still neighbours, and an open door would do better than a wall.

Mint leads his group of Duenem off their shuttle, straight over to Aneb. He is still the quintessential Duen, with slightly shinier plating, although it does seem surprisingly thin, which a close observer would realise was in fact a covering of mirror steel.

Approaching Aneb, Mint gives a small flicker of his blue diodes in greeting. "Congratulations on your ascension Aneb Two-Guns. You have managed to draw your people together through your initiative. That is certainly to be congratulated." the Duen begins. "Especially when many considered it a statistical improbability. You have certainly done much these past few years."


Meanwhile, at the Sparring

Ty-Rone is approached by a curious little Duenem, hovering in the air. This is in fact very little: only half a foot high, and with small thrusters built in, the Duen looks more like a toy than an actual combatant. "Greetings," the tiny being says, "I am Play Sapper. I have been told this is where I can spar. QUESTION. Is this true? I wish to test out my current forms capabilities."

Meanwhile, at the Poker Game...

Lighter Lighter, quite possibly the Duenem drinking champion heads on over to the poker table. With her tail, and her bright yellow eyes, she is very clear in her actions: wanting to get away from high politics. With a flickering of her eyes, she looks up at the governor. "QUESTION. Do you have a seat free?" she asks, sounding very exasperated. "I can make a payment, I just need ensure I have a task before I'm allocated the poetry. And I do not do poetry."

[Ausar]

The Federation delegation arrived with little fanfare. As the five figures descended the ramp from the sleek Horizon's Passage, one of the first Federation craft to be designed solely for speedy intersector travel, it is clear Marius is not in attendance. As they descend the ramp, the leading figure, a short dark-haired Dasari wearing a golden sun emblazon on each shoulder, tucks a small holoprojector back into their belt pouch. Arriving at the Palace gates, the party confers briefly, and splits into three.

Elscol Wrosk: Short dark-haired Dasari female, early 40's, former Officer of the Redfleet, now a close advisor to Marius and Commodore within Starfleet.

Xixis Ilhith: Long-haired redhead Dasari male, early 40's, former Commodore within the Dreadfleet, now a close advisor to Marius and Commodore within Starfleet.

JLL-9: A seven foot tall humanoid Ikosq'ka, bronzed auburn feathers slightly ruffled, thin, wings folded close to their spine, face resembling a tawny owl's without a beak, their arms and legs feline with claws retracted. Speaks through a miniscule speaker system implanted in their forehead, data taken from a small chip in the brain. Voice soothing & androgynous, not at all mechanical. Former liaison for the Koris Project, an avian research lab, now the Ikosq'ka advisor to the Sector Commander of Triarii.

Salzathar Kalika: Three foot tall Kazzari (think a six-limbed Dug crossed with Rocket from Guardians, for lack of a better mental image) tanned gold-brown skin streaked with white & grey, tends to amble on four limbs with one hand holding a drink and the other reaching out to examine any passing piece of interesting technology. Former crew chief, an advisor & old friend of Sector Commander Elzobar Threeblink.

Corris: Human colonist from Dravidia, lithe & limber, usually grinning. Blond haired & grey eyed, former squadron leader within Tusk's defence force. Now a Major within Starfleet, Xixis’ protege.

______________

The Urthuun's Throne

Elscol & JLL-9 approach the Urthuun’s throne. Standing a respectful 10ft back from the the Lyraen guards, JLL-9 peers intently about, marking elevated resting points, noting Rothuun guards, very on-edge. Their claws extend and retract slowly, the familiar click some small comfort to the Ikosq’ka. Elscol holds the holoprojector, pointing the device about slowly, speaking quickly into the microphone embedded within. Her eyes stay fixed on the Urthuun.

Glorious Combat

Corris & Xixis head towards the sounds of sparring, arriving as Proxos and Ty-Rone are chatting. Approaching with no little trepidation, Xixis, resplendent in his full dress uniform, salutes the pair. Corris, in functional marine uniform, bows.
“A pleasure to meet you both. Xixis Ilhith, Commodore in the Federation Starfleet. This is Major Corris, a student of mine. And you two fine gentlemen are?”

Poke the Poker

Revelling in the festive atmosphere, Salthazar heads towards gambling & cards. Approaching the Poker table, he lopes over to Autha, and his eyes widen a little as he spots Lighter Lighter. Grinning, he ambles up. His voice is old & warm.
“And a fine day to you too, the name’s Salthazar, heard there were cards to be played o’er at this table. And you are a magnificent creation, may I say!” He looks admiringly towards Lighter. Turning back to Autha he says “two therivas says the game’ll be a lazy flight through the Alcove Circuit,” digging around in a pouch until he brings out two shimmering blue gems.

[Gaius Hermicus]

The Once and Always Urthuun:


Lyrae: <Hello, goddess Lyrae. I must admit, I had not expected to be graced with a visit from a being as majestic as yourself. But this is an important occasion, and I am grateful for your presence nonetheless. Do the Lyraens wish, perhaps, to abandon the shackles of so-called "civilized" societies and indulge your ambitions? The League of Blood would be a perfect match for a power with the potential of the Lyraen empire.>

Conditioner Mint: For a moment, Aneb's face is marred by a look of intense displeasure, but it then falls back to calm as he realizes that the Duen did not mean any insult. <Indeed, there were many who believed that the Rothuun, and I, were not fit to become a power such as theirs. Many of them disregarded us, considered my people to be a doomed race. Well, do you know what I say to them? I say that they are wrong! Look where I am now, O Star League! Gaze upon power, pure and unadulterated! And know, in your hearts, that it is them who will tumble from your thrones of power! They have for too long imposed their will, their morals, their laws and restrictions upon others. Well, no longer. The Rothuun will defeat them. It is inevitable, because the Rothuun can do anything, and will do anything, to accomplish that goal. Against that, what chance have the Vilari?>

Elscoll: Pausing for breath from his impassioned speech, Aneb notices the two newcomers. The birdlike creature was intriguing: he had never seen such a thing before. Although he did not recognize the human personally, he was able to determine their nationality from their style of dress. <Ambassador of the Federation? Welcome to Taurina I! I have been expecting you.>



The Schizophrenic Horned Rodent:


Proxos: How am I? I'm the best I've been! Nothing gets the spirits up like the prospect of ripping out some Vilari throats! You should try it sometime, my friend. There's a delightfully rubbery texture to them. It's very satisfying to tear them out. How have you been lately?

Play-Sapper: Of course you can enter the sparring contest! All are welcome! That is, everybody with the guts to fight is welcome. Do you have a particular opponent in mind, or would you prefer to have your arse kicked by one of our own Rothuun?

Corris & Xixis: Who am I? I'm Ty-Rone, the Horned Capybara! I'm the blood-thirstiest, heart-eatingest, biggest, baddest rodent in the galaxy! This is Proxos; he's my wingman.



If You Like Her, Poker:


Lighter Lighter: Autha coughs, wheezing into a handkerchief. She squints confusedly at the Duenem. <Of course, of course! Sit down, and I'll deal you in. What are you putting up for ante?>

Salthazar: Autha takes the sapphires and deftly slips them into a slit on top of the table, where they disappear. She slides a stack of chips to Salthazar. <I take it you know how to play, then?> she coughs. <Would you like a cigar? Imported directly from Niconia, best you'll ever taste. I guarantee it.>



The Lovebirds:

Guntur Greataxe, King of Ikhal, sat watching the current singers: an Ogatvezhiy bagpipe band. Guntur's ears hurt from the cacophony, and he briefly considered shooting one of the players just to shut them up. His fingers had just closed around the handle of his gun when he spotted Rhia. Shooting somebody right in front of her would probably send the wrong message, he decided. Slipping the pistol back into his vest, he lifts himself out of his chair and walks over to Rhia, dropping his gaze to meet her eyes. It had been too long since he had seen the Lyraen princess, and her memory had served to keep him alive and sane in the years since the Solstice celebration. Much had changed on Taurina I since then. After the Urthuun's own guards had attempted to kill him, a spate of terrorist attacks had broken out, destroying buildings on Grishal and Thurtal. His own planet had been mercifully untouched, but the risk of an assassination had kept him a near-recluse, forced to stay behind guard. Additionally, Ty-Rone had stopped visiting him or sending correspondence. Odd, considering the bonds of friendship between the two. Guntur was suspicious of Bephik Axemaker as well. The High Priest of Iteus was sickly of late, and Guntur could have sworn that Bephik had grown a few extra tentacles since they'd last met, but he, too, was refusing to give any information. Perhaps...

No. This was not the time to mull such things over. Guntur snapped his mind back to the current moment. <Hello, my dear Rhia. I have missed you so.> His voice comes out raspy and cautious, and Guntur cursed himself inside. She would certainly guess that something was wrong.

[Ausar]

Marius' Display

Elscol blinks, and steps forward, saluting the Urthuun with her free hand. She mutters a few words into the mic and sets the projector down in front of the throne. After a second, the air above flickers, and a hologram of Marius, resplendent in his red & gold greatcoat, sharpens into view. His mane of dark hair streaked with grey, beard carefully styled down to his torso, and old eyes dancing with light, he smiles with genuine warmth and salutes Aneb. "A pleasure indeed, Urthuun Aneb. Alas, I could not attend in person, but I trust my aides here-" he gestures towards JLL-9 & Elscol "-are more than capable of handling any matter that may arise outside of our meeting here. How goes the Empire of Blood?"

Ty-Rone

Xixis smiles faintly. "I've heard a little about you, Ty-Rone. Heard reports that you grow at a rate that would shame a swamp-rat. Corris here has come to spar in the fighting pit, and I've come by to watch. Can't have my student perish without my oversight, now can I?" Xixis steps up beside Ty and turns to face Corris, who pales a little, but weathers a grin. "More like can't let me win a bout without taking half the credit!" He turns to face Ty-Rone. "Who's skull am I cracking first?"

Xixis raises an eyebrow at Proxos. "You fighting today, old-timer?"

The Pokiir

Salthazar chuckles. 'Know? My dear, I was born with cards in my hand and chips in the pot!" He continues to chuckle as he takes his seat. "I'm afraid I have to refuse the cigar offer - a few too many years with a nose to close the exhaust leaves me little liking of the sensation. Liquor though - I could do with some good strong liquor."

[Gaius Hermicus]

Marius' Display

Elscol blinks, and steps forward, saluting the Urthuun with her free hand. She mutters a few words into the mic and sets the projector down in front of the throne. After a second, the air above flickers, and a hologram of Marius, resplendent in his red & gold greatcoat, sharpens into view. His mane of dark hair streaked with grey, beard carefully styled down to his torso, and old eyes dancing with light, he smiles with genuine warmth and salutes Aneb. "A pleasure indeed, Urthuun Aneb. Alas, I could not attend in person, but I trust my aides here-" he gestures towards JLL-9 & Elscol "-are more than capable of handling any matter that may arise outside of our meeting here. How goes the Empire of Blood?"

<Hello, Marius, I see you are well. Indeed, the Empire of Blood is magnificent, thanks to your aid in founding it. I suppose your envoys have arrived to sign the League of Blood charter?>


The Pokiir

Salthazar chuckles. [COLOR=#40e0d0]'Know? My dear, I was born with cards in my hand and chips in the pot!" He continues to chuckle as he takes his seat. "I'm afraid I have to refuse the cigar offer - a few too many years with a nose to close the exhaust leaves me little liking of the sensation. Liquor though - I could do with some good strong liquor."

Autha reaches underneath the table and grabs a smoky glass jar of whiskey. <Well then, drink your fill of this! Strongest liquor we've got. I hope you can handle your drink!>

Bephik Axemaker, hearing the pop of a cork, turns to spot the bottle being opened. He staggers, his tentacles flailing wildly, over to the poker table. <Mind if I take a swig of that?> he asks, pouring himself a glass of the dark liquid without waiting for an answer from either Autha or Salthazar. <Who're you, then?> he asks the Kazzari.

[Rolepgeek]

Vigilant-Admiral Sorren Caxton Elien [Dasari General (Mil7) originally from Dawnstar Dominion; favored by Zkiel, the Most Vigilant]
Transgressive-Noble-Truth Fame-Spring EdgeSkimmer Rarekeep, of Seven Provings [Rass EdgeSkimmer Saint, Convocation Speaker, and Tourney Champion]
Androgynous-Gold-Bearer Born-Of Masculine-Fire Born-Of Feminine-Sunlit-Beauty NewCreation End-Sands, of Twelve and Nine Exultations [Rass NewCreationist Saint, Poet, and Diplomat
Seigneur Ysambart Galopin, Chevalier de l'Ordre de la Première Lame [Human Noble Dignitary and ship captain]


When a ship bearing Federated Churches markings, under the flag of negotiation, is received and escorted to the landing strip, it may come as a surprise to some. The Rothuun, after all, were in the midst of a major offensive against the Federated Churches. Of course, that was exactly why the members of the Church had come. The Amoureuse herself was of Ducal design, and it showed in the tight, compact nature of the vessel, which was much heavier than it's length would suggest.

When the passengers disembarked, only one of them was likely to be recognizable to those present, and even then, it may have been her attire more than Sorren Caxton Elien's personal acclaim that gave her away. The Dasari admiral was attendant in full war-dress - formal armored wear suitable for events where both presentation and readiness was required. That dress was in the style of the now-defunct Dawnstar Dominion, though there were minor alterations here and there revealing the influence of her Church leanings. The others were less-known: the captain of the ship was human, and two Rass had come as well, though neither were as high-ranking as had been sent to previous events. Perhaps the Federation was concerned about the risk of sending too many high-ranking officials into the middle of hostile territory? Regardless, it didn't take long before their ship was parked appropriately, and their work had to begin.


- - -

The group of officials conferred briefly before separating; in pairs at first, before each made their way to attempt to find the individuals they hoped to discuss matters of importance with. Seigneur Galopin stayed near his ship, having been given dispensation to receive dignitaries on behalf of the Federated Churches, while Sorren made her way into the building proper. The Admiral wasn't sure who she'd speak to yet, but she knew her companions would have tasks just as difficult as hers, if not more so.

Still, when the former Wing Officer saw officials from the Federation of Free Systems present, an unanticipated ire rising in Sorren's gut told her that her job would be more difficult than she had anticipated. But first - she would need to greet the Urthuun, to avoid disrespecting the Rothuun's iron-handed ruler, as the leader of their little mission. Still, Sorren watched carefully how the Urthuun responded to other visitors as she approached, uncertain of what the proper means of introducing herself, and avoiding their ire, would be. When it appeared that there was no particular requisite form of address, the Admiral allowed herself to relax, just a little.

When the woman arrives at the head of the line to greet the Urthuun, she raises her arm and crosses her chest in salute, posture unwavering. The Dasari had no guards with her - just her wardress and her pistol, which she'd left with Galopin. It was perhaps - no, it was certainly a risky move to be so close to this many potential foes without a weapon, but any plan involving firing back in case of assault would be more likely to get them all killed, not less. Sorren's voice, when she addressed the Urthuun, was resonant and carried the rhythm of a formal address, rather than natural speech.

"I offer salute, honor, and challenge to you, Aneb Two-Gun, Urthuun of the Rothuun Galactic Holdings, King of Thurtal, son of Thrikar Fleshgorger, and great victory maker! Will you accept my salute, my honor, and my challenge of hospitality, and give such in kind?"

This was the riskiest part of the whole affair, she knew. If Aneb knew anything about the customs of the Church of the Balanced Edge, he might not take the Challenge of Hospitality as an insult. It implied that the challenger was a difficult guest (which was true, in a sense), a self-deprecation of sorts, while acknowledging that it was through competition that both they and the host could grow and become better by oppositional, but non-hostile, exchange. And more importantly, she hoped the challenge would ensure that none of her party were murdered by a Rothuun who thought it would bring him favor rather than ire from their Urthuun.

But if they did take offense...well. She'd spent half the trip ensuring her war-dress was up to spec. At least she'd get to see whether it was any good.


- - -

Androgynous-Gold-Bearer, dressed in her Church's typical swirling loops of connected cloth and delicate, branching jewelry, was interested in speaking with the High Priest of Iteus present - though the NewCreationists did not have the sheer enthusiasm for competition that EdgeSkimmers did, still she was curious to meet one of these foreign Churches whose ideology differed not so greatly from her own. Afterwards, Androgynous-Gold-Bearer hoped to enter the poetry competition - twice she had been Sainted for her literary accomplishments, and it was always nice to see the reception from a new audience.

Bephik Axemaker was a curious-looking fellow, even given the curiosity all aliens held for Gold-Bearer. The diplomat approached them slowly, head tilting as she examined the priest, trying to pick out which tentacles belonged to him, and which to the Octopus.

"The winds and waves have said that you are Bephik Axemaker. I am...certain you care very little for my full name, but if you desire it, I would be grateful if you knew me as Androgynous-Gold-Bearer. I think that if you saw fit, we could discuss much of our divine potential and natural beauty. If you did not, then I would be remiss to not ask of your faith, and if it coincides with my own as some blessed few have told me."


- - -

Transgressive-Noble-Truth, on the other hand, was just short of looking for trouble. They had made their name, and their Speakership, in high-stakes speed-debate competitions, and here, the stakes were higher than ever. Push the Rothuun too far and get murdered; be too passive and get stepped on. It was, in a word, exhilarating. He did know better than to push his luck and get his Admiral humiliated, however, and so when he ends up in the vicinity of Markath Frostfur, that he realizes his mistake, if he judged their countenance well.

Still, it is hard for a Rass to be inconspicuous in a room full of minotaurs. Long tails, shiny, often noise-making metallic ornamentation, and a distinct difference in height do not lend well to escaping unnoticed...

[Aedilred]

The HMIS Thruster arrived in Rothuun space accompanied, unusually, by a military escort: the Penetrator-class ships were designed to be able to retailiate if fired upon, but in these uncertain times, true military vessels were indispensible. The Oldbuck, Finch, Ivar and Maxwell took up positions around the Thruster as it settled into orbit.

Imperial High Commissioner Arurshemish disembarked accompanied by a Kuvetli offer carrying a staff, and not one but two Tabine knights, together with drones, all in uniform including their faceless battlehelm. To those intimately familiar with the tactics of the Imperial Navy, it is less a diplomatic support staff, and more a boarding party. Other than the High Commissioner the one sign of civilian presence was a Duen following close behind.

Arurshemish gave a cautious nod to the Lyraen delegation as he passed them en route to meet Aneb Two-Gun. As the Duenem appeared, the Duen with the party split off and headed over to join its fellows.

When he reached Aneb Two-Gun, Arurshemish bowed slightly from the neck. "The congratulations of the Empire on your accession, Urthuun. The Emperor sends these gifts as a token of his esteem."

The normal diplomatic gifts of literature, delicate machinery and fine art had seemed inappropriate for the Rothuun, and consequently the collections of Kaynite tyrants had been pillaged for this purpose. Finds - now presented to the Urthuun - included a jagupard cloak (with heavenbird feather trim), a large sapphire phallus, and a gold-plated drinking cup made from the skull of some rival for the throne of Echaron.

[Tentreto]

The Once and Always Urthuun:


Conditioner Mint: For a moment, Aneb's face is marred by a look of intense displeasure, but it then falls back to calm as he realizes that the Duen did not mean any insult. <Indeed, there were many who believed that the Rothuun, and I, were not fit to become a power such as theirs. Many of them disregarded us, considered my people to be a doomed race. Well, do you know what I say to them? I say that they are wrong! Look where I am now, O Star League! Gaze upon power, pure and unadulterated! And know, in your hearts, that it is them who will tumble from your thrones of power! They have for too long imposed their will, their morals, their laws and restrictions upon others. Well, no longer. The Rothuun will defeat them. It is inevitable, because the Rothuun can do anything, and will do anything, to accomplish that goal. Against that, what chance have the Vilari?>


Play-Sapper: Of course you can enter the sparring contest! All are welcome! That is, everybody with the guts to fight is welcome. Do you have a particular opponent in mind, or would you prefer to have your arse kicked by one of our own Rothuun?


Lighter Lighter: Autha coughs, wheezing into a handkerchief. She squints confusedly at the Duenem. <Of course, of course! Sit down, and I'll deal you in. What are you putting up for ante?>




Hail to the King?

Mint continues staring at the ranting Rothuun. He certainly harboured a great hate for the Star League. A league which to Mint had done nothing wrong in particular. To anyone with a working brain, they could see tensions would eventually lead to war, and the Rothuun certainly favoured war. "It is certainly true the Vilari are no warriors like your people," he replies cautiously, although, QUESTION. If your goal is to destroy the Star League, what is your action after that? Do you wish to take them as a vassal? Salt their worlds?"


FIGHT!

Play Sapper shakes its head. "I do not care. I will fight any who come. I must test my specifications against as many as possible. No killing though. I am forbidden from that. Unfortunately." For a second, the Duens eyes flicker alarmingly.

Don't poker yet

From a small compartment, Lighter pulls out a case of something sealed tightly shut. From inside it, she pulls out what appears to be a case of sealed together tightly. "We are unsure of what the value of opiates are, considering we have little use for them," she remarks, retrieving a ball of opium from the case. "But I am sure they will have their uses. QUESTION. Will a case be sufficient? I have another if need be."


A conversation about metal

Conditoner Mint, as much as he was an unconventional Taskmaster, was still a competent leader. He had come so far by his capacity for invention, so had always kept an eye on the Federated Churches, who had brought their beliefs to Duenem worlds. Some Duenem had even taken fully on the teachings, forming their own small voting block. Mint was not one of them, but did share the love for invention.

Part of this went through his circuits as he approached Seigneur Galopin. "Greetings friend," he says, as he steps up, flickering his diodes. "I am sorry to hear of the impending events affecting the Churches. QUESTION. Tell me, how grave are affairs for you to come to the seat of your attacker?"

[Gaius Hermicus]

Hail to the King?

Mint continues staring at the ranting Rothuun. He certainly harboured a great hate for the Star League. A league which to Mint had done nothing wrong in particular. To anyone with a working brain, they could see tensions would eventually lead to war, and the Rothuun certainly favoured war. "It is certainly true the Vilari are no warriors like your people," he replies cautiously, although, QUESTION. If your goal is to destroy the Star League, what is your action after that? Do you wish to take them as a vassal? Salt their worlds?"

<If the Vilari can be reasonable, I am receptive to replacing their government and allowing them to flourish as their own nation, albeit one that does not follow its current trajectory of interfering in others' affairs. However, I find it unlikely that the Vilari will be willing to surrender to the Rothuun. If they continue to oppose us, I may have no choice but to eliminate them as a nation, and to bring them under the iron heel of the Rothuun Galactic Hegemony. It will depend on whether or not they can respond with common sense.>


FIGHT!

Play Sapper shakes its head. "I do not care. I will fight any who come. I must test my specifications against as many as possible. No killing though. I am forbidden from that. Unfortunately." For a second, the Duens eyes flicker alarmingly.

Very well then, says Ty-Rone kindly. You shall fight against Sarzan Sharptooth, one of our champion berserkers. He indicates a hulking monstrosity of a minotaur, clad in spiked armor and with a wild light in his eyes. Sarzan steps into the ring, cracking his knuckles. <Come, then, Duen, and we shall see who is strongest!>


Don't poker yet

From a small compartment, Lighter pulls out a case of something sealed tightly shut. From inside it, she pulls out what appears to be a case of sealed together tightly. "We are unsure of what the value of opiates are, considering we have little use for them," she remarks, retrieving a ball of opium from the case. "But I am sure they will have their uses. QUESTION. Will a case be sufficient? I have another if need be."


Autha's eyes light up when she sees the opium. <Excellent, yes! One case should be sufficient for this game.> She sweeps a hand of cards in front of Lighter, then calls out to the remainder of the hall. <Anybody else want to be dealt in? Entries to the game will close in five minutes!>




"I offer salute, honor, and challenge to you, Aneb Two-Gun, Urthuun of the Rothuun Galactic Holdings, King of Thurtal, son of Thrikar Fleshgorger, and great victory maker! Will you accept my salute, my honor, and my challenge of hospitality, and give such in kind?"

This was the riskiest part of the whole affair, she knew. If Aneb knew anything about the customs of the Church of the Balanced Edge, he might not take the Challenge of Hospitality as an insult. It implied that the challenger was a difficult guest (which was true, in a sense), a self-deprecation of sorts, while acknowledging that it was through competition that both they and the host could grow and become better by oppositional, but non-hostile, exchange. And more importantly, she hoped the challenge would ensure that none of her party were murdered by a Rothuun who thought it would bring him favor rather than ire from their Urthuun.

But if they did take offense...well. She'd spent half the trip ensuring her war-dress was up to spec. At least she'd get to see whether it was any good.


As the Church of Rust members enter the great hall, a chilling silence falls over the festivities. Eyes turn to look at the group of diplomats, many of them in shock or loathing. A few hands sneak down to the hilts of knives or guns, preparing for a confrontation. Even Aneb's guards grip their rifles more tightly, moving in front of his throne to cover the Urthuun from gunfire. To their surprise, however, Aneb waves them aside and allows the leader of the procession to approach his throne. Hearing her canned, traditional greeting, he smirks slightly, then gives a cheery little wave to Sorren.

<My dear Rust Seekers! Welcome to the Hegemony! I daresay it will be a good experience for you to see what living in Rothuun territory is like; you'll all be doing it full-time soon.> He pauses, carefully observing Sorren to see whether or not she is taken off guard by the casual reference to the Rothuun invasion.



Bephik Axemaker was a curious-looking fellow, even given the curiosity all aliens held for Gold-Bearer. The diplomat approached them slowly, head tilting as she examined the priest, trying to pick out which tentacles belonged to him, and which to the Octopus.

"The winds and waves have said that you are Bephik Axemaker. I am...certain you care very little for my full name, but if you desire it, I would be grateful if you knew me as Androgynous-Gold-Bearer. I think that if you saw fit, we could discuss much of our divine potential and natural beauty. If you did not, then I would be remiss to not ask of your faith, and if it coincides with my own as some blessed few have told me."

Bephik looks up slowly, squinting at Androgynous-Gold-Bearer. He blinks a few times, then cautiously says,

<You... are from the Church of Rust? I do not know what "divine potential" you speak of, but it is true that the Church of Iteus sees beauty in the body of a living creature. All creatures have a natural beauty in them, and it becomes necessary to isolate that beauty as best as possible, to attain a level of mental and physical ascension. As you see, I have attempted that myself: by manipulating my physical form with additional living creatures, I have merged my thoughts, my inner beauty, my soul, with that of the other animals that now live within my own body. A machine, by contrast, has no soul, no thoughts beyond its programming. That is, I believe, where our faiths diverge.>



Transgressive-Noble-Truth, on the other hand, was just short of looking for trouble. They had made their name, and their Speakership, in high-stakes speed-debate competitions, and here, the stakes were higher than ever. Push the Rothuun too far and get murdered; be too passive and get stepped on. It was, in a word, exhilarating. He did know better than to push his luck and get his Admiral humiliated, however, and so when he ends up in the vicinity of Markath Frostfur, that he realizes his mistake, if he judged their countenance well.

Still, it is hard for a Rass to be inconspicuous in a room full of minotaurs. Long tails, shiny, often noise-making metallic ornamentation, and a distinct difference in height do not lend well to escaping unnoticed...

Markath Frostfur was furious. The invasion that he had masterminded, to invade the Church of Rust, was about to be put into effect, and now Rass had shown up to Aneb's coronation! Why had they not been shot on sight? Markath is further enraged when he spots Transgressive-Noble-Truth a mere twelve feet away from him. Drawing his broadsword, he stalks toward the Rass, leveling the blade at his throat.

<I do now know why the Urthuun has permitted you to live, and to breathe in the same air as we do, but rest assured, I am not fooled. The Church of Rust is my enemy, and I will not stand to have enemies in my presence. You have thirty seconds to tell me exactly what you are doing here, or I shall cleave your head from its shoulders.>



When he reached Aneb Two-Gun, Arurshemish bowed slightly from the neck. "The congratulations of the Empire on your accession, Urthuun. The Emperor sends these gifts as a token of his esteem."

The normal diplomatic gifts of literature, delicate machinery and fine art had seemed inappropriate for the Rothuun, and consequently the collections of Kaynite tyrants had been pillaged for this purpose. Finds - now presented to the Urthuun - included a jagupard cloak (with heavenbird feather trim), a large sapphire phallus, and a gold-plated drinking cup made from the skull of some rival for the throne of Echaron.

Aneb gazes upon the tribute greedily, picking up the skull-cup and examining it. The Ninurtines had not been expected to attend this event, much less offer tribute, but this was a pleasant surprise. Slipping the cloak around his shoulders and nodding to Arushemish, he waves a hand to his guards, who carry away the remainder of the gifts. <Thank you for attending, my friends, and you may tell the Emperor that his tribute is of excellent quality. Does the Ninurtine Empire wish to join the League of Blood? I know you have no love for the Star League: together we can pay back the wrongs that they have dealt to you.>

[Ausar]

By the Throne

Marius nods. "They have. While we may not see eye to eye in many respects, it is cooperation despite our differences, and respect for our rights to remain different, that our charter will bring. I look forward to our future accomplishments. A toast-" he holds up a crystalline drinking flute filled with a slowly-swirling amber liquid "-to the Sanguinary League!" He drinks, and bows. Elscol takes the projector, and moves to switch it off as Sorren enters, striding towards the throne. Elscol steps back, placing the projector, Marius still present, next to her as Sorren delivers her greeting.

As Aneb finishes his reply, Marius frowns slightly, and gestures to Elscol that he be moved forward. She nods, and nudges the projector out from the sidelines. "There will be, all proceeding favourably, no need for such an occupation I should hope." Marius throws Sorren a salute. "General. The Federated Churches are guilty in Federation eyes of no greater ill than association with the Star League. The invasion, such as it is, and our involvement with it proceeds and will continue to do so in accordance with that fact. If your ties are broken, then come a lull or, with luck, an end to hostilities, your territory will be restored, and your people ensured Federation military support. You can end this today, with but a simple pledge to accept that support and spurn the Vilari, or this can continue until the dust settles."

Over at the Game

Salthazar takes his own swig of the brew, and grins, if possible, even wider. Two hands shuffling a deck of cards that emerges from a breast pouch on his bandolier, another takes a glass and another pours himself a hearty measure of the stuff. Nodding in thanks to Autha, he turns towards Bephik and says "Why, aren't you just fascinating! Salthazar Kalika at your service, friend, best crew chief on Laria for a good few decades. And you are?"

[Miltonian]

The Once and Always Urthuun:


Lyrae: <Hello, goddess Lyrae. I must admit, I had not expected to be graced with a visit from a being as majestic as yourself. But this is an important occasion, and I am grateful for your presence nonetheless. Do the Lyraens wish, perhaps, to abandon the shackles of so-called "civilized" societies and indulge your ambitions? The League of Blood would be a perfect match for a power with the potential of the Lyraen empire.>

"You flatter me," Lyrae says, but she does sound pleased, "We shall see. The future holds many possibilities. For now, I am interested to see if the new leader of the Vilari will hold to their principles in the face of uncompromising...adversity. After all, it is well and good to preach ideals, but to stick to them in the face of opposition is what tests them."


The Schizophrenic Horned Rodent:

Proxos: How am I? I'm the best I've been! Nothing gets the spirits up like the prospect of ripping out some Vilari throats! You should try it sometime, my friend. There's a delightfully rubbery texture to them. It's very satisfying to tear them out. How have you been lately?

Proxos chuckles good-naturedly. "Amusing," he declares, "But I'm afraid that sea-food disagrees with me." He winces and rubs his stomach. "Speaking of which, I recommend avoiding the Tritarian Clam Special, if you stop by the Galaxy's Greatest Diner. It's...something else."

"Well, other than a minor bout of indigestion." He winces again. "Can't complain!" He leans in and whispers. "It turns out, you see, that being the 'divine consort' has some very tangible assets that come with it, if you catch my drift."


The Lovebirds:

Guntur Greataxe, King of Ikhal, sat watching the current singers: an Ogatvezhiy bagpipe band. Guntur's ears hurt from the cacophony, and he briefly considered shooting one of the players just to shut them up. His fingers had just closed around the handle of his gun when he spotted Rhia. Shooting somebody right in front of her would probably send the wrong message, he decided. Slipping the pistol back into his vest, he lifts himself out of his chair and walks over to Rhia, dropping his gaze to meet her eyes. It had been too long since he had seen the Lyraen princess, and her memory had served to keep him alive and sane in the years since the Solstice celebration. Much had changed on Taurina I since then. After the Urthuun's own guards had attempted to kill him, a spate of terrorist attacks had broken out, destroying buildings on Grishal and Thurtal. His own planet had been mercifully untouched, but the risk of an assassination had kept him a near-recluse, forced to stay behind guard. Additionally, Ty-Rone had stopped visiting him or sending correspondence. Odd, considering the bonds of friendship between the two. Guntur was suspicious of Bephik Axemaker as well. The High Priest of Iteus was sickly of late, and Guntur could have sworn that Bephik had grown a few extra tentacles since they'd last met, but he, too, was refusing to give any information. Perhaps...

No. This was not the time to mull such things over. Guntur snapped his mind back to the current moment. <Hello, my dear Rhia. I have missed you so.> His voice comes out raspy and cautious, and Guntur cursed himself inside. She would certainly guess that something was wrong.

Rhia's face flickers and concern crosses her fair features. "Guntur," she says gently. She hesitates, thinking of what to say, and in the end elects to say nothing at first. "I am well," she says, "Are..." She hesitates, and her eyes flick towards the ground. "Are you?""

[Aedilred]

Aneb gazes upon the tribute greedily, picking up the skull-cup and examining it. The Ninurtines had not been expected to attend this event, much less offer tribute, but this was a pleasant surprise. Slipping the cloak around his shoulders and nodding to Arushemish, he waves a hand to his guards, who carry away the remainder of the gifts. <Thank you for attending, my friends, and you may tell the Emperor that his tribute is of excellent quality. Does the Ninurtine Empire wish to join the League of Blood? I know you have no love for the Star League: together we can pay back the wrongs that they have dealt to you.>
Arurshemish breathed a sigh of relief as the Urthuun's satisfaction with the gifts became apparent, although he winced inwardly at the suggestion of "tribute" and its implications. He would chalk that one up to a loss in translation, for the sake of diplomacy.

"We are grateful for the invitation, but must decline. The Empire has had its disagreements with the Star League, but to say it has dealt us wrongs would be something of an overstatement. Certainly we have no cause for war with them at the present time. In fact, a secondary purpose of my attendance here is to plead for peace. There seems to be no justification for this attack, and whatever disputes exist between the Sanguinary League and the Star League can surely be dealt with through diplomatic channels, can they not?"

[Gaius Hermicus]

"You flatter me," Lyrae says, but she does sound pleased, "We shall see. The future holds many possibilities. For now, I am interested to see if the new leader of the Vilari will hold to their principles in the face of uncompromising...adversity. After all, it is well and good to preach ideals, but to stick to them in the face of opposition is what tests them."

<Indeed. Perhaps this invasion will prove to them that they can no longer afford to avoid negotiations. I myself have been preparing a list of terms to send to the leadership of the Vilari. I do not expect them to agree to the terms, but perhaps in time they can be convinced.>


Proxos chuckles good-naturedly. "Amusing," he declares, "But I'm afraid that sea-food disagrees with me." He winces and rubs his stomach. "Speaking of which, I recommend avoiding the Tritarian Clam Special, if you stop by the Galaxy's Greatest Diner. It's...something else."

"Well, other than a minor bout of indigestion." He winces again. "Can't complain!" He leans in and whispers. "It turns out, you see, that being the 'divine consort' has some very tangible assets that come with it, if you catch my drift."

Ty-Rone snickers under his breath. Yes, I can see how that might be advantageous. Idly scratching at a scab on the top of his head, he whispers to Proxos, There's some definite perks to being a prince, too. Perhaps you would like to take an extended vacation to Grishal? I have a palace with some very tangible... assets at our disposal.

Rhia's face flickers and concern crosses her fair features. "Guntur," she says gently. She hesitates, thinking of what to say, and in the end elects to say nothing at first. "I am well," she says, "Are..." She hesitates, and her eyes flick towards the ground. "Are you?""[/QUOTE]

<Of course I am!> Guntur chokes out, before realizing that his denial was not particularly convincing. <Actually, no, I'm not.> Making sure that nobody else can observe, he whispers, <Taurina I is not a safe place anymore. I fear that the Urthuun does not have much longer to live, and when he dies, I will be the prime candidate to take over, and thus the prime target of all who wish to take that power for themselves. I fear that I may need to flee the Taurina I system sooner, rather than later.>


Arurshemish breathed a sigh of relief as the Urthuun's satisfaction with the gifts became apparent, although he winced inwardly at the suggestion of "tribute" and its implications. He would chalk that one up to a loss in translation, for the sake of diplomacy.

"We are grateful for the invitation, but must decline. The Empire has had its disagreements with the Star League, but to say it has dealt us wrongs would be something of an overstatement. Certainly we have no cause for war with them at the present time. In fact, a secondary purpose of my attendance here is to plead for peace. There seems to be no justification for this attack, and whatever disputes exist between the Sanguinary League and the Star League can surely be dealt with through diplomatic channels, can they not?"

Aneb scoffs at the suggestion. <I intend to send a list of demands to the Vilari. It will be their decision whether or not to accept them, but I find it unlikely that they will be willing to negotiate with us. They are motivated by spite and envy, pure and simple: they recognize that they are inferior to the Rothuun, and to the Ninurtines as well, and wish to drag us down to their level rather than allowing us free reign over our own nations. Rest assured, I have no ill feelings towards the Empire. Our enmity is solely directed towards the Star League, and its members.>

[Aedilred]

Aneb scoffs at the suggestion. <I intend to send a list of demands to the Vilari. It will be their decision whether or not to accept them, but I find it unlikely that they will be willing to negotiate with us. They are motivated by spite and envy, pure and simple: they recognize that they are inferior to the Rothuun, and to the Ninurtines as well, and wish to drag us down to their level rather than allowing us free reign over our own nations. Rest assured, I have no ill feelings towards the Empire. Our enmity is solely directed towards the Star League, and its members.>

Arurshemish reeled slightly, though the hologram remained perfectly composed. "You launched your attack against the Vilari before issuing your demands? I suspect that that will indeed make them less inclined to negotiate. What do you intend to demand of them, that it seemed desirable to do so at the point of invasion?"

[Gaius Hermicus]

Arurshemish reeled slightly, though the hologram remained perfectly composed. "You launched your attack against the Vilari before issuing your demands? I suspect that that will indeed make them less inclined to negotiate. What do you intend to demand of them, that it seemed desirable to do so at the point of invasion?"

Aneb clears his throat, picking up a piece of paper from the desk and beginning to skim it. <Our demands are, um, that the Vilari dissolve the Star League, and, let me see, replace their previous government with a more sympathetic government to the Rothuun. Oh, and they have to give up the Federated Churches of Origin's End as a vassal?> For a moment, Aneb looks slightly shaken, and glances in the direction of the sparring match and the poker table with a dawning dread in his eyes, but then forces his face back into a neutral expression. <We had to begin the invasion prior to sending the demands, so that the Vilari would understand that we mean business. A show of force was necessary to prevent them from blowing off our request for negotiation entirely. It is not too late to call off the invasion, should they consent to our terms.>

[Tentreto]

Sarzan vs Play Sapper

If the Rothuun thought that the Duen seemed a weak opponent, he showed no sign, quickly trying to bull rush the tiny Duen, and pin it. Play Sapper simply used it's thrusters to get over the Rothuun, stabbing a small leg into a chink in the armour, before darting back. As Sarzan turned, he tried the rushing tactic again, but this time Sapper dodged to the side, hovering out of range.

The third time, Sarzan approached more cautiously, trying to block of the little beings escape vectors, and quickly before Dapper could scoot away this time, he grabbed it in a gauntleted hand. As he drew back another fist to pound the Duen into submission, Sapper let out a small metallic screech, before popping off part of his chassis, allowing a small sticklike figure to slip out. Sapper wasted no time, jumping onto Sarzan's neck, and slashing with its graspers at his face, before darting down to one leg. With its thrusters at full power, the off-balanced Rothuun was tripped to the ground, where the Duen scuttled on top, graspers pointed at the head of the berserker.


With the King

Conditoner Mint carefully looked up and down the Rothuun leader, carefully computing information.
"So you would crush a nation utterly for not wanting another's will imposed on it, despite that being what you have as your grievance against the Star League. Not only that, but you are only receptive of allowing them their own path if they acquiesce." That Mint did not phrase these as questions said far more than the words themselves.

"I am afraid that would be destruction and killing on a scale that would leave many worlds devastated. The Duenem will do all they can to keep casualties to a minimum. There must certainly be deeper conversation about this than can happen at a party like this, without disrupting the celebrations."