The construction of the Imperia

Entry the 22nd - Nature of Treachary

2008-11-19T01:53:00.002Z

As the great leviathans slowly awoke from slumber, their legions breathing away the stale thoughts of ancient sleep, they turned to kagh't, his eyes deep in concentration surveying the distance.

'You say this is but a small strength of men and arms, how is it that you lost the war?'
"Those in charge of my people did not have the strength or the resolve to do all that is, was, necessary to prevail" he said, watching the upper tiers intently far above their heads
'And what would that have been?'
Kagh't pondered for a second, and a grin spread slyly, he turned and looked Ruarn in the eyes "Me"

This peice is something that i have been considering for awhile, Kagh't did not consider the government fit for leadership so planned to replace them with himself so that he could do what he felt necessary. I figured this would provide an interesting powerplay in his mind, of someone who is not entirely true to an ideal of being a morally perfect induvidual. He knows this, and seeing what devestation was wrought by his weapons without his guidance decides that he was right all along, which counterposes his consience of knowing his motives were not entirely pure to begin with. Ruarn and the admiral then have to work with this induvidual who is hellbent on vengence and possibly not entirely trustworth as they have no other choice. Whilst they will get along, there is always a doubt in all minds about who is really doing the right thing.

The admiral is on a vengence quest, kagh't is going increasing more insane in his crusade and ruarn is not the man he once was and is starting to realise that he cannot keep things as controlled as he would like.

About the admirals 'death': Maybe the admiral does not die, he instead touches the divine (brought to them as he intends to kill himself), which causes him to go ever so slightly nutcase. He is captured by the enemy, and is tortured so badly that he loses the difference between real life and the huge amounts of stuff floating around in his head. It is when Ruarn rescues him (in a copy of when the Admiral rescued Ruarn after his stint with ASAT) that he is brought back to our particular plane of existence and the world begins to clarify (both literally and figuratively). This then leads to the admiral knowing the way to the milky way is through the wormhole, all the time acting in almost a religious fervour, constantly talking (contrary to his previous personality, dark and stoic) and trying to make sense of the things going on in his head.

This could be a neat way to integrate more of the religious iconitry that is present in the tolkienite universe that seems to be filtering out somewhat as the story progresses away from LOTR in space towards a full blown space opera.

For kagh'ts ability to be revived after so long, i had a thought about him being dragged into a stasis chamber by soldiers within the bunker after he became mortally wounded (later to be fixed by the victory) and thus awaiting rescue. This then brings in problems about the heroic last stand with all weapons blazing that was in the very first concept peice. I guess he would have to set the initiation sequence before hand, get hurt and be dragged into the pod. However whilst i lose the last stand, i can gain a bit of anguish when he learns that his men sacrificed themselves (when the weapon initiated) to save him. Of course leading on from this is that if the weapon removes the ability of space to support life, then how can he survive in stasis? It is a difficult question as i cannot explain it by changes to the soul as it would then negate how the enemy are killed when they have no soul.

This peice: He stood at the door, looking down the corridor, stretching forever onwards before his feet. One step he took, the walls rippled and came to calm. Another step and they shivered and retreated from him. Each step caused them to murmur and shake. Their words he saw in the space between space before him, curling and twisting like a knife edge rainbow, into ever more maddeningly convoluted yet effortlessly beautiful forms.
As he turned the walls span away into the distance, leaving him in a vast hall then screamed back as if carried upon the wings of a silver owl. A vast wave in his world came towards him and washed over, turning his vision from ship to stone, vast corridors of hewn rock. Another wave began a steaming jungle, slipping through his palms like the stars through the night sky.
Reverberations of utter stillness punctuated the ever changing experience of his heart. Not since the divine had he known such utter confused enlightenment, where everything around him shuddered and craved his touch and thoughts as if it was their last drink upon a barren desert.

i found on the MS file i keep. I know where the inspiration came from, but i am unsure about where i intended to place it within the story line. It seems a peice for the admiral in a fit of 'madness' (fitting well with a strand of the divine being present), and there are images in my own mind about a surrounding scene, but where to place them is harder.

On a cooler note, i had a great idea about deep space artillery. Essentially massive *something* cannons, they orbit a gas giant and fire into slipspace vortices so that the shells emerge from slip and impact into the bad guys from nowhere. This was to be employed at the wormhole battle and could involve a kick ass scene of these massive lumbering hulks coming to life and firing off huge volleys which could be tracked through the slip and emerge only to impact the enemy fleet, followed by the waves of imperial ships in the attack.

I think that maybe a political intrigue storyline will have to be dropped, i believe that the plot can be diverged enough with the discovery of the milky way and kagh't to provide enough difference in story to maintain attention.

As yet another music related point, i heard the original mix of andy hunters go, which is much more intense and less soperific than the mix i normally listen to. As such the old mix (relative to my ears) would still play at the moment that ytaria colony is attacked, with the admirals associated descent into madness, but later on the newer mix would play and accompany a more upbeat action sequence yet to be determined.

Entry the 21st - RE: Thoughts

2007-06-10T22:26:00.000+01:00

Its been a long time since i last posted!

Several things have come together since then:

Captain Ruarn was formerly a memeber of an elite commando squad known as the Admiralty Special Command Teams. In the begining of the Imperia admirals were often sent out into deep space for years on end without any form of contact, so crews and ships would swear loyalty to them, and then the admirals would swear loyalty to the ruling monarch, as a way of establishing exactly who was in control.

Every so often an admiral would go rogue, taking his fleet and getting up to no good. The Admiralty put together a selection of teams who would have the training to find the rogues, go aboard the ships and take control (with force if required). Once on the bridge they had special codes that they could use to commander the ship. The teams were kept a secret from the public and anyone below flag officer level, so not to make the admiralty seem so keen to keep their crews under pain of 'replacment'.

It was quickly realised that because these teams had such an intimate knowledge of imperial tactics to overcome defences to retake ships, that they could become very effective special forces units. They were subsequently equiped with the absoloute brand new un-tested weaponry and supplies (which they had the honour of field testing) and sent off to fight.

Joining the teams was a difficult task, often potential members were selected years before they joined, and the ASCT's would wait until a battle situation emerged where they could be taken. Often this occured when the rest of the potential members unit was wiped out. It was not unheard of for them to 'arrange' this fate to gain access to particularly promising recruits.

Once inside the unit, they were free to leave at any time, but this was very difficult. They would allow themselves to be captured on a mission, and a tip would be given to normal military units of their whereabouts. It was then up to those units to rescue them, which is where many leavers died before this could be accomplished successfully.

Should the rescue be successful the former member would have appeared to have been in captivity for all his serving life (often years), and as this was not unheard of to occur, he would be lauded as a hero of the people, rewarded lavishly and could spend his retirment in abject luxury, with enough money to fit every one of his beck and calls. Should he escape alive.

Captain Ruarn joined this unit as a leutenant, and was rescued by the Admiral when he was a commander. Instead of retirment ruarn chose to stay on, and both were given any posting they desired. This is how they came to work together, with the captain promoted to admiral, and the leutenant to captain. Serving together on one previous ship, they were given control of the Victory project from the early stages, and turned it from a deep space assault cruiser to a heavily gunned dreadnought, and took command therein.

Captain Ruarn therefore has a particularly up to date knowledge of the workings of the imperia thanks to old contacts, and meets his old team members when they go to capture the admiral from his imprisonment, which brings me onto the next bit.

The admiral is captured from the victory after his visit to the halls and mados and back, then taken off to be interrogated. His weakened state that comes from putting up a hell of a fight after returning to life allows this.

Ruarn traces his trail to a world populated by the organised crime network of the imperia. An agreement exists between then and the Empress, they will keep their business out of the public eye, and she will not send her armies against them (which would be very time consuming, expensive and cause alot of upheaval, but effective).

He finds several people on this planet and takes them back, finding out that they have been involved in a wide reaching conspiracy to depose the empress. They don't know they are being manipulated by the enemy in doing so. Ruarn gets the information he wants out of them (in a scene where he sets junior officers who have had their families killed in enemy attacks lose on them with free range to get any and all info), then glasses the planet. This involves firing the main batteries with primary and secondary intercoolers disengaged, which causes the tertiary intercoolers to overheat, dumping their energy into the bolt as it passes, which upon hitting the planet ignites the atmosphere and causes a chain reaction which melts its crust, turning it to glass.
This process was found during a battle where a sister ship suffered damage, her intercoolers failed and a wayward shot hit an enemy planet that was being fought above, totally destroying it.

Once he has the location, he jumps, finds the enemy fleet, then iniates the code zero zero one zero communication, which causes the rest of the imperial fleets and armies to initiate jumps to his position.

When the fleets arive, they engage in battle whilst the ASCT's rescue the admiral. During this they hack into the bridge systems and find the location of a wormhole which takes them to the milkyway, thus bringing about the oppertunity to discover the truth about the nature of the imperia, and find kaght and his weapon stores.

Entry the 20th - Law and Punishment

2007-02-25T16:01:00.000Z

The Triarch looked at the accused, who sat chained and bound to the seat, unmoved. It was impossible to tell what either was thinking.

Shuffling papers, the faint murmur in the court fell silent as the Triarch cleared his throat. He was old, and looked like he had seen maybe one too many cases as he stood to deliver his verdict.

When he began to speak, it was clear that though the body may be tired, the spirit had lost none of its vigour. His lip curled, the anger and contempt in his move was not even given an attempt to disguise.

'I have seen many things in my years, evil deeds, and things unspeakable, but you are by far the worst...'

Looking the accused up and down, who still remained lifeless, he put down his papers.

'You have been tried by a court of the Empresses Grand Imperia. A verdict of guilty has been reached for the crimes committed by your person. For causing suffering of an entity, Violation of a citizen of the imperia...' He almost spat the words, the collective fury of everyone in the room building inside him '...the unlawful killing of a citizen of the Imperia, and most heinously, the use of another moral citizen of the Imperia for your own malice devices'

The guilty sat unmoved, the judge continued on.

'For these crimes are liable to be locked on a prison asteroid, where you should be executed after 5 years of solitary confinement, and your body left until the end of eternity....However' The word sat like a ball of fire in the air, none expected it, and the dread and enticement that it purveyed drew all eyes.

'For the deeds you have committed, I feel that no punishment that can be offered is great enough, so the sentence of incarceration and death is denied. Instead you will be taken to the Amon where you shall be left to the mercy of the four'

At this the guilty sprang up, fear and hatred erupting from him as he pulled against his binds, screaming and shouting. A blow to the back of the head with the weapon of the guard saw him crumple to the floor.

This text relates to a trial of a criminal in the Imperial legal system, that i feel just helps to give a bit of backround both into the imperia, and the four riders and their 'normal' role within imperial society and justice. The first writing of the text gives it as a video being watched by the captain and the admiral, which i thought of the full name of the captain, Ayzden Ruarn. However, i don't think i will keep it this way, maybe giving the conversation to some junior officers instead.

Entry the 19th - Attack on the homeworld

2006-10-18T13:32:00.000+01:00

Dozens of jump windows opened in orbit of Terras, a great red cloud expanding within the heavens. Out poured a fleet of enemy ships, heavily armed battle cruisers with weapons firing. Their energy bolts tore through the atmosphere, impacting on the surface, unleashing firestorms of gigantic proportions on the surface. A green continent disappeared under black smoke and ruinous pyres.

Within a second the shield had been raised automatically by the planetary defence grid and the rest of the incoming weapons fire impacted harmlessly upon its golden green hue.

As if from the depths of the netherworlds millions of black scarabs de-cloaked and began swarming the enemy ships. Like swarms of enraged bees, or a pack of wild dogs then attacked, impacting upon the shields in great flashes of light, rocking them heavily.

Below the defence grid initiated its engagement procedures. Vast bunkers opened with groans, inside the heavy orbital weapon batteries were lifted upwards and locked into place.

Each one was a vast cannon, over a hundred meters long, silver and blue. The most powerful non-gravity weapon in the imperia, they could punch holes through planets and tear apart moons. Refined dark matter was wrapped inside a protective energy cocoon and then fired into orbit.

A shining black ball screeched from the barrel, trailing a deep purple tail. They passed right through the planetary shield as if it did not exist. Waves of bolts climbed from the planet and impacted into the fleet.

First hit was a command ship; its belly was torn out, momentarily revealing a gaping hole before it exploded. The projectile that hit it kept going through another ship, taking off right engine pod, sending it spinning down into the shield and its destruction. Two more ships suffered the same fate before the protective cocoon of energy expired and the bolt exploded in a blazing glory.

All around the enemy was torn apart, thousands of bolts emanated from the defences, the swarm of drones latched onto hulls and engaged null-energy fields, preventing any jump to slip-space.

Scarcely less than a minute after the bombardment began the battle was over. The enemy fleet, the remains that were left, sat drifting in space, the larger hunks being dragged down to the shield by drones. As Terras’ moon appeared from the far side of the planet it began its own bombardment with energy weaponry, vaporising the carnage.

The defences had held, but the delay in their activation, even just those two seconds, had cost tens of millions of lives.

Entry the 18th - Medical ships in orbit

2006-10-16T23:24:00.000+01:00

In orbit of the planet the fleet was slowly growing in size. 3 battle groups, 2 sector support fleets and a Grand Fleet Admiral all slowly circled, weapon ports opened and shields raised, in a defensive pattern.
Dozens of small landing ships were in constant motion between the ships and the surface, ferrying survivors and troops back and forth. Around the impact zones armies gathered, fortifying every place, searching amongst the rubble for anyone fortunate enough, from the troop’s point of view, to be alive.
Next to a ship berth a temporary hospital was being hastily constructed, ships surgeons and medical staff swarming around, desperately trying to implement a triage system.
Hovering above a scout ship served as an emergency command post, its shadow cast long across the desolation below. On board the crew attempted to relay and order the rescue operations, staging communications between the fleet and the ground forces.

Far out from the fleet a massive jump exit portal formed, seemingly giving way to nothing. Slowly ships began to de-cloak, a massive armoured hospital ship, a huge red cross brazened across its mid-quarter, flanked by a 6 strong destroyer screen. The Imperial medical core always travelled heavily protected, although the ships were heavily shielded from attack, they carried very little armament, and relied on their cloaking devices to remain hidden. Any enemy ships would be engaged by the destroyer screen whilst the medical ship made the jump to safety.
The people of the Imperia thought of the war wounded as honoured citizens, the military viewed them as resources that needed to be put back into action as soon as possible. Medical care was high on the minds of everyone. The rare occasions where medical ships were ambushed and destroyed always brought the wrath of the army down upon the enemy, so they dared not do it often.
Some within the navy considered cloaking devices would be highly valuable on military ships rather than with the medical core. Although tests into its instillation on the Starbright class frigates had proved successful, doctrine always gave that it would only serve to increase the impetuous of the enemy to find ways to counteract it.
Whispers and rumours around the mess table said that there was a secret class of battleship equipped with cloaks that operated behind enemy lines, the space faring equivalent of the four, appearing and disappearing, leaving behind a bloodied trail. Others said the cloak was so unstable that it caused entire ships to disappear into subspace; wilder speculation said that the entire 47th fleet is residing in a fold of space due to a malfunction.

The destroyer screen joined the rest of the fleet and the medical cruiser deployed its own landing craft, which glided silently down through the remains of the atmosphere to set down medical staff. Aboard the cruiser transporters began beaming those stable enough into its sickbays for treatment.

Two large battleships took up positions above the cruiser, pitching slightly to the sides to expose the full banks of weaponry against any potential foe. Fighters swarmed like hornets between them.

This scene is set above a planet that has been attacked by the enemy. The intial idea was that this planet would be one of the first to be attacked at the start of the war, hence the huge military presence that is afforded to it. The medical ship/fleet is my social commentary on the appalling treatment of wounded british troops by the government. I want to show in my writings how the sick and injured should be treated by a more 'enlightened' society.

Entry the 17th - Fury of the letharian unleased inside a base

2006-10-03T23:56:00.000+01:00

Standing there in the corridor as the two sides fought valiantly for control of the access conduit, he felt parts of him stir again from deep within. Trying desperately to retain control of the emerging violence, he suddenly felt an extreme heat seeping through his chest.
He had been shot.
The wound buried through him, but he should have died on impact. Instead standing there, weapons fire zinging all around him, he was still alive. He hurt badly, pain searing his sense, but still, he was alive, this shouldn’t be.
The energy from his body crept out of him, slowly draining away. The thoughts in his mind once so clear, faded into a grey nothingness. Reaching out his arms to steady the fall to earth and in his death his hands caught on something.
His chest rose as air rushed into him, his mouth gaping wide and eyes forced open. He stood with his back arched and his arms stretched out behind him, his fingers curled as if a vast current was flowing through his muscles. They twitched slightly, but kept him standing.
The life force that was leaving him now raced back into his body. As his soul began to rise inside him again, the point at which he had been came and went, more energy kept poured through his arms. Looking down he saw that he had not grasped something in his fall, but had reached out into the air and grasped the atoms themselves.
Realisation of what he had done instantly transformed him, the Letharians hatred within forced itself to the surface, but he had control over its behaviour. Such power should not have been afforded to a man he thought, but he would show why he was no longer just a man.
Bowing his head, he reached out into the walls around him, feeling the nature of their substance. Grasping out with his fingers his jaw clenched shut and his became a map of exertion and concentration as he began to manipulate the fabric of matter itself.
Groans and screeches came from the walls as they took up the strain of what was being asked of them. Waves that would be at home on a great ocean tore through the joints, bowing and contorting with such strain.
His head twitched, his mind flared and the walls tore from the bunker. Suspended in mid air stood the armour-clad stone, that which would take the fires of a reactor breach with only the slightest flinch.
He moved his fingers and reached into the molecules with his thoughts. Like a crystal vision they stood before him, the atoms, the bonds, everything that made up what he had grasped with his mind laid out before him. In a fraction of a second he knew what he could do, what he must do, and searched for the key.
Time slowed around him, the plasma fire that soared past his ears became a slow crawl of light. The materials he controlled became to distort, warping and energising. He concentrated harder and reached into the living energy, commanding it to do his will. The metals and stones disappeared, every atom tearing apart at the subatomic level, all the matter reverting to its base form of energy. Two great plumes of fire raged under his control, like homage’s to the gods of old, they roared in their attempts of escape his grasp. He commanded them, and they turned to a deathly black, still raging, sick with fear. The wretched flames sucked in light around them, becoming great maws in his hand.
The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, only for a merest moment. Had someone been able to see it, they may have called it a grin, but such things were beyond his care right then.
He clasped his fingers into balls and the columns of death surged into the minute spaces between them and were extinguished.
What remained in place could never in all the tongues of man, the gods, the great enemy or the Letharian Empire be described. Great disturbances of space and time, storms in the fabric of existence raged around his hands. Demons of the netherworlds vying for flight, to be free of his control sucked in every part of the living energy they could find.
The corridor disintegrated around him, every particle fell apart, the laws of physics became a thing of ancient mockery and light spiralled into its heart.
Deep red light shone from his closed eyes, and his neck contracted pulling his head up, his eyelids parting to allow the piercing anger of his mind to find what it wanted.
One step, two steps, he pulled the energy distortions with him as he walked towards the enemy.
They fired frantically, shot after shot, desperately trying to halt the advance of this creature, this thing of evil, but to no avail. Every bolt of plasma fed the growing fury at the tips of his fingers, feeding its power.
He opened his mouth and let a roar escape. It felt so natural to do so, like all his life had been building up to this moment. What reached into the fibre of the enemy was not his roar, but an abomination of noise. They fell to the ground howling in pain, hands clutching their ears as the bunker reverberated with hatred and anger.
Stopping his advance, the troops behind him cowered behind the pillars, the warmth of the souls sapped, their breath forming clouds of mist in front of their mouths. They did not know what to do, nothing in their many years, their many battles, their many horrors, could have prepared them but in the slightest way.
The greatest armouries of the Imperia made no such weapons as this, not even the stories of the old or the scrolls of the gods made mentioned to such things. For some they wished that they had never signed on to help the cause, others wanted the knowledge to master such power, and some prayed to Arherus that he might take them into his arms and rid them of this demon.
All their eyes were drawn to the disturbances emanating from his hands. The ones who had been hit felt their life leach from their wounds to join it, others tried not to breath, the heat being sucked from their lungs.

In the next instant it could never be undone, the fury at his beck was unleashed, it howled in anger and sprang forth, drenching that unto which it had been directed in thick black death. The enemy was sucked into themselves, space folded, fires sprang and quenched in a thousand screams, upon the highest peak in an ancient land, the lord of the gods felt the agony of those that ceased to be, whoever they swore allegiance to. The time to summon his armies was nigh, if the beast that commanded this power was allowed to develop, he may slip beyond even his control, and the battle for the re-making of the world would be lost before it even began.

This particular scene is inside an enemy base (though i am contemplating changing it to a starship) and shows the almost full extent of the powers that the admiral develops as a result of the maiar elements within emerging during his own particular fit of rage. This is really a big moment, it shows the enemy they have made a mistake in trying to break him, and pushes the admiral finally over the edge into his own abyss of anger and hatred. From this point i believe he will completly lose it, with this section set in our galaxy. It is only after he is stopped by Kaght, who himself is a far more powerful letharian, that he will return to 'normal'. I believe i will also have him suffer a mental breakdown at this point, to see how much further i can delve into his mind and force him to hold onto life until his purpose is done. Someone who has that much power cannot weild it as a mortal without consiquences, that and i fancy being sadistic for a bit.

Entry the 16th - RE: various things

2006-09-23T23:40:00.000+01:00

long time no write, been up to a few things, lots of new ideas which i need to write about.

Firstly i think i have managed to pull together three seperate scenes into one story line. As i have written before, i have two scenes, one based around the four horsemen, and the second based around the admiral destorying a planet with the main batteries.

Along with a third scene, yet to be written, in which there is an attempt on the empresses life (along with a kick ass bit with cloaked personal guards and mech-suit mounted chain guns), i think i shall intertwine these into an idea of a criminal underworld that is being engineered by the enemy. I think this will play as an interesting counter point to the seemingly paradise type style of the homeworld especially, and the general aura of the imperia as a good place to be (kept that way to the public by a strong military and iron judicial fist).

I also believe that it will be a good oppertunity to be able to flex out the patriotism present in the members of the imperia towards the empress, further exagurating the counterpoint.

Following on from this is another idea i had for a second novel. Whereas Imperia (the name of the novel as is, that you are reading) is based around the journey of the admiral and the armed forces, the second novel may be based at the same time frame, but on the homeworld and other areas. Although on a brief thought, it could be interesting to be able to do a bit of exploration into the civilian side. However, have to write imperia before i can get working on that though.

I am also further refining the idea of a staff member at the imperial navy acadamy. Based upon the character of boothby from star trek, he would have taken every single member of the navy in living histroy in a basic class in their first year. The theory would be that, unbeknownst to his pupils, he was telepathic so able to know what is going on in all the students heads and help them. Because of this ability though, he would be viewed as a bit of a pain in the ass, grumpy, e.t.c. Some good comedy potential in there, having every rank, the admiral down to the lowest crewman, put into the same shoes when he is around, and him not really caring either. He would be a good character in the idea of the scholars too, being a sort of mediator between them, the naval command, the empresses court and the new recruits.

To be telepathic he would have to be part elven, though there is scope in the geneology of middle earth for this to occur. He would also be old, having taken every person (more comedy potential too).

Other thoughts coming into my mind are in relation to the admirals own mind. I think it would be good of him to be disguising his pain at his loss with his anger, keeping it constantly just below the surface so that whenever he started to feel depressed, the anger would well to force it away. Definatly some wonderful oppertunity to be able to play around with someone who is going insane. At the end of the story he would have worn his anger through, leaving only his pain, which would be the moment where he takes his own life on the planet where his wife died (the tune i am thinking of the scene to is called 'i wish for a place' by lisa loeb, if anyone is interested).

The hullucinations he has are also of some recent interest. One is where he is unable to sleep one night and is catapulted back into his 'genetic memory' and shown the various military events that his forbears have been involved with, plus some scenes of the final battle. In tradition with some of my own complete out of body hullicinations, they are set in a completly blue colour, sort of a black and white type deal, except with, well, blue.

This blue theme will also continue further into other parts, where he momentarily loses control for an instant and his surroundings flick blue, then back again. I should be able to write this ok, it may take some work. The idea is better translatable into screen though, much like the entire novel in general.

Two more thoughts also spring to mind. The first is that instead of dogs being the main creature of choice for guard and military animals, why not cats? So instead of a guard dog, something akin to a guard panther instead. Just a random idea that floated to the surface, but i figure why not, something to play around with. Bit of counter culture. The second is pretty nifty. Before the admiral is catapulted into 'our' galaxy from his, he amasses the fleet around a wormhole the enemy is using.

The fleet muster is using an emergancy code, broadcast instantanously throughout the galaxy by putting every single bit of power into the transmitter and putting the carrier deep into subspace. Upon receiving, every ship and planet goes to red alert. The ships are given a muster to assemble at the admirals location. 2/3 of the navy immediatly jumps away, and the other makes preparations to do so. They are meant to wait for the empresses authorisation to do so, but just ignore that particular part and do it anyway out of loyalty and the desire to end the war. The imperial army ships wait for the authorisation, except one battle group commanded by a general walker, who is a good friend of the admirals. He jumps immediatly. The empress does give the go ahead and the entire imperial space force arrives (thats tens of thousands of capital ships) at this wormhole, where the enemy fleet is also massing. They have a somewhat large battle, during which the wormhole is attempted to be destroyed. However, the admiral is pulled into it whilst doing so, landing him in our galaxy, where he meets with the remenants of the 9th fleet, and they find kagh't and the destruction of our own civilisation long ago, along with the big space guns. pretty sweet idea if i can iron out a few kinks and cliches.

Beyond that, i have a few more bits and bobs floating around in my head, i need to get typing again, put them down into prose. I definatly have made some headway into the actual physical storyline, which is good. Hopefully once the prose goes down, more ideas should pop up.

Entry the 14th - RE: Admirals wife

2006-08-16T21:28:00.000+01:00

I have been thinking recently about how to portray the admirals wife within the story, and his love for her. The character herself i do not believe i will write specifically into the story, as in she will not be an active character. She, as a person, is based upon several women in my past, who along with the wife of Kaght sum up most of my personal feelings towards them.

Something that occured to me last night was the way in which the admiral mourns. It is all very well and good him going off to fuck up half the universe, but on a personal level he must deal with her death, because he is not permitted to die by the valar (in their sending him back). He can be killed, but will be returned to the universe, which is a very traumatic and mental destructive event.
Initially he shoots himself because he cannot deal with the loss, and he will take his life again at the end of the story, then for good, so he can stay with her in the halls of mandos.

Until then there will be the levels of grief which i must give him. I am currently playing with the idea of having him establish a series of monuments to her throughout the galaxy, maybe on the path he forges through it to find the letharians. This idea comes from the Eleanor crosses, built by king edward for his wife. One of the inspirations for the wife comes from someone by the same name, so it is my way of adding a small tribute to her in my works. When i write, i write for myself, hence the many references towards events and people that do crop up within the story, most of which only myself and that person will understand.

Another element i wish to add is the idea of the admiral feeling responsible, and helpless, over the death of the brother of the chief medical officer, who is the admirals closest friend (with captain Ruarn, the second in command, his military companion). He will be killed along with the admirals family on the colony under the enemy bombardment. The admiral will be written to be unable to help with his friends grieving, despite best intentions. This comes directly from my own feelings with a good friend.
I do believe it will do the character good to have him concerned with other things, even only one or two, beyond the lust for revenge and violence.

Beyond that i will have to see what happens as the story comes together. I will be on holiday for the next two weeks, so there will be no more updates for a while, for the few readers i may have.

Entry the 13th - Runners intro

2006-08-07T15:59:00.000+01:00

A flurry of dust kicked up from behind them, the new recruits span aiming their guns at nothing.
Again, this time from the left, and then from the right. All around scurrying and dust. In the twilight it was hard to make out what was going on, what was moving, even with the Mech Suit sensors.
Above, in a window something moved, followed by a hail of fire from the point man.
“HOLD YOUR FIRE!” shouted the lieutenant over the comms
‘Sir, I saw so…”
The lieutenant cut him off with an indignant snort, then said “Runners…I hate runners”
He turned his head as if knowing what was coming. A dark blur jumped from a window, flipping in the air and landing on one knee just beside him. Standing up he saluted.
Slightly smaller than the lieutenant, he wore a small grey and black set of camouflaged fabric armour, highly mobile and flexible, but strong enough to take the force of small arms fire, or kinetic energy from high jumps. On his right wrist a small arm mounted weapon, and his helmet was small and sleek, wrapped around his head. The runners were a small, highly trained group of Army soldiers employed specifically for urban warfare. They would enter behind the lines in captured cities, racing through and disrupting the lines. Specifically chosen for their bravery (or stupidity towards danger went the rumour) they could often be found leaping from building to building, from high walkways and performing aerobatics that would be impossible in normal armour, hence their special issues. They chose the best of the best for training, one could be the Empresses favourite grandson and still not be assured entry.
Some who were denied a commission with the Advanced Special Assault Teams, their official designation, would often be the best of their own units, and it was not uncommon for unsuccessful applicants to be somewhat scornful of those who did make it.

Three more runners fell around the squad, a standard four man unit. They all saluted, one carried a large sword with a skull crudely carved into the blade slung over his back. Obviously this particular unit were returning from a mission.

“What?” growled the lieutenant with obvious disdain for the runner.
‘There is a large group of Rawlings heading this way, they were not best pleased when we took the head of their commander’ A hint of ego and humour tinged his somewhat odd accent.
The lieutenant held himself back from backhanding him, that damned armour or not, a swipe with a Mech Suit would still send him sprawling.

The runners are an introduction into the army of the imperia, seperate from the navy which has been mostly prevelant. They are based upon free runners, but with guns. I think i could have alot of fun with them, certainly this scene with the lieutenants pissed off nature towards them is shaping up to be great to write.
The original impetuous behind writing the scene is the way that people who are turned down from jobs or whatever are always said to be, or saying, that its no biggy, then harbour no ill feelings and are ok with it, as they wern't up to standard.
So, the lieutenant is someone who has applied but been turned down, and is obviously pissed off towards the unit and its members. Just a little real world stuff opinion there.

Entry the 12th - atmospheric destruction of planet

2006-07-31T15:16:00.000+01:00

“They’re attempting to launch ships sir”
The screen flashed two small ships, lightly armed; the green circle around them turned a menacing red as weapons acquired a lock. Small pieces of data scrolled upwards as the optimum firing solution presented itself, a cold, efficient death.
‘Fire’ the response just as cold as the computers
At as close a range to the planet as they were the tactical computer automatically selected, fire, and destroyed the two ships with the same number of lances from the focused energy beams.
The admiral stared at the screen, projecting his contempt and anger out into space towards the debris. He wanted it to know his hatred, even in death.
‘Hail them’
“No response”
Sighing in pity for those below who dared to defy him, he bowed his head slightly, bringing his hand up to his top lip, and looked up through one eye.
‘Bring the main batteries online, I want nothing left alive’
A few startled looks bounced around the room, but if he had given an order like that, no-one would have the sheer stupidity to question it, no-one who valued their career, let alone their life.
As the view screen turned varying shades of red and gold the faint sound of the main batteries charging permeated throughout the ship. Their external ports opened beneath the nose of the ship, and on the tips of the wings
From each a deep glow emanated as the coils energised, finally reaching a dark hue akin to the vision of carnage upon an early dawn.
On the screen a large gold emblem appeared, signifying the batteries were fully charged, and waiting for a target. As the colony below was selected, a gold square, punctuated inside with a gold triangle flashed over it.
Watching intently as the inner triangle turned red, the admiral waved his finger and the weapons initiated their firing sequence. The lights on the bridge dimmed.
Unleashing a barrage the batteries dumped their stored energy into the firing matrix, which momentarily allowed it to build before discharging through the coils. Wrapping the bolt in more layers of energy to maintain its coherence the coils flashed white, until just before it left the tube a blue coil flashed, coating the bolt in a layer of ions, further increasing its destructive force.
In a fraction of a second from initiation to final exit the forward facing batteries fired, 2 volleys of 6 bolts ripped through the atmosphere. It was then something most startling happened. The last ion coil, coating the bolt, had left its surface super heated. As they entered the outer layers of the atmosphere this heat layer escaped into the surrounding particles, causing a chain reaction that sparked the ignition of the atmosphere.
A giant flat fireball erupted and began to spread around the world like ripples from a drop of water. Consuming all as they went, the fires removed the veil of the clouds that formerly wrapped the planet, showing for all to see the huge craters in the surface where the bolts had struck.
Aboard the Vengeance the bridge crew looked on with shock, nothing like this had ever occurred; the main batteries of a Victory class Super Battle Cruiser were never designed for, and never used in, planetary bombardments.
Some turned away, but the admiral looked on, a small part of him flinched as the ruin began, another part felt guilt for the dreadful deed he had just committed, but the largest part felt as no man of Imperia should at a time like this, glad.

He turned as the flames below disappeared beyond the edges of the planet consuming as they went.
‘Set a course to the nearest Star Base’ he said, letting the words hang in the air, before adding as an afterthought ‘transmit the sensor data of the weapons firing to the rest of the Fleet Admirals, I’m sure they will be interested’.

This scene is set orbiting another planet at some point in the story between the return of the admiral and the voyage to the milky way. It is meant to encompass the darkness that is consuming the admiral, and the way in which he is starting to take gratification, even pleasure, from killing his enemies. I do believe it will really be the point in the book where a crisis point emerges in his mind, to continue on the destructive path, killing wantonly anything that angers him, or to concentrate on bringing down the enemy (a harder task).
Naturally he will take the option to exterminate the enemy but there will be serious doubts cast by the crew and his XO over what he is doing.

So far i am unsure as to put the planet in question to be an enemy stronghold (as originally intended) or a world on which some parts of the underworld of the imperia are based. The idea of the main batteries igniting the atmosphere comes from me wanting a weapon big enough to cause huge damage to absoloutly anything. The batteries are like torpedo tubes (or the pulse phasers on the defiant in ST) and are positioned aorund the ship with doors covering them when not needed. They are first generation ship borne weapons, based upon planetary defences. When used in combat no other weapon systems can be fired due to their huge power requirments.

The dreadnought class ships use an upgraded version, more powerful, with less power drain, and faster firing (heh, just realised the deathstar relation) times.

I have changed the name of the Terrible class to the Victory class. Further continuing on my idea of 'angry' names i felt the change should occur during the war, so that the first ships had a less violent connection, but as the war progressed, and sentiment became more agressive, so did the names. Hence the first name was the victory, moving onto the terror, terrible, the vengeance e.t.c.

The fleet admirals mentioned in the text are the admirals in command of the grand fleets under which the smaller fleet groups are based. Each Grand Fleet Admiral is aboard a Victory class super battle cruiser and commands, (through lesser admirals) 40 smaller fleets composed of 15 capital ships. This gives 200 fleets, with an overall active fleet strength of 2,700 capital ships.

A fleet is a bit like a carrier battlegroup, designed for independant actions anywhere in the Imperia or behind enemy lines without resupply, but able to join together with other fleets for larger operations. In the story the 9th and 176th fleets have been lost on operations behind enemy lines. The 176th was completly destroyed, with the 9th presumed the same. In fact the 9th had followed an enemy fleet to the milky way galaxy soon after the beginning of the war, where they will be found by the admiral later in the story.

Entry the 11th - Opening scene

2006-07-28T20:03:00.000+01:00

They sat opposed, the betterment that fluxed amongst the great oceans beneath reaches its hand up towards through circling clouds.
Three ships, flying through banks of white plumes, their world lost amongst their sight, forever might it be the darkness or ethereal night but for a pale shimmer from the radiant lining.

In an instant their homage to the skies banished, left behind their stern far beyond. A vast turquoise breath spoke beneath them, stretching far beyond the horizon. Silver crested birds, with red tipped wings and bills formed great flocks, countless numbers in a great tipped wave towards the starboard shore. Far distant, an emerald land, shining tall and bright beneath the radiance of the golden sun. Vast sea creatures broke the surface, over 50 times as long a man, basking in the sun with their young.

The mother universe began to speak beneath its voice, calling, singing and breathed unto the silken rays reflecting upon the great swords that stood guard towards the stars.

For a command given they wheeled upwards, spurred by a haste not felt since long ago in darker days, fleeing the world below in swiftness they joined the guardians above from the calls in the air below.

.

Arming in preparation for an unknown foe fast approaching on steeds given heed of fire upon a chill will they stood. Nay such were defences, left to those behind from battle who slept at ease, might but the greatest of fleets slip into the abyss betrayed by complacent deeds.

Yet in an instant, an opera amongst the chords of angels, an eternity for ancient gods, and a never for the dead, wrath and ruin to hew sleeping hordes and minions.

A great stream of light emerged from behind the planet, basking the massed fleet in a gold shimmer, shadow turned to space, and for that moment peace, in the next the fall.

Across the view of the ships a mass of hyperspace portals flared, as if a great storm of blues and greens broke upon a cliff. Such as the storm, the cliff continued with, a vast wall of ships, the mightiest fleet under the light, emerged as one fell deed and began their rage.

Thousands of torpedoes, thousands of energy beams ripped from their bodies, lightening in the stars great in a great flash.

Their ships, the planets guardians, buckled under the weight of this great onslaught and the enemy tore through the centre. Those that sat weakest, by guile or foolishness exploded in measureless fires, others lost power and were sucked to their doom in the oceans below. Others returning the screaming fury opened a palate of colours for the dwellers in the seas and skies to draw witness to.

And such the battle was fought, armies charged into one another, swords striking, arrows loosed and blood spilled.

Alas! The defenders began to wane, though they fought boldly, and were greater in number, they could not stand to the weapons of their foe. Much needed were more in kind, so that if they may not still not win, they would make the enemy suffer greatly for each ship felled.

Nay but better luck for those who pursued them, their weapons strong and shields mighty they were too few for a decisive victory. The combat may be won, but not before they tumbled through space broken and decimated.

“Where are our reinforcements? We can’t hold the line for much longer!”

Another three ships, much greater and valiant to the last. Far but with flames to their heels spurned faster. To the aide of their kind they flew, prayers many to enter battle before fate turned against those locked already in.

Their commanders stood with breath held, the powers to sway the gods to their sides, victory and fortune, only the death of their comrades permeated the chill silence of the black maw soaring past.

“Time to jump exit? Take us to 105% engine output”

As all began to look lost, both enemies falling to the wind, the three great eagles burst from their flight. Great bellows from their hearts and eyes rained down upon such destruction as to appease even the darkest demon and conjurer.

Into the defenders they rammed, those that were not fired to the shell by weapons were broken asunder by the bow, split and cast aside such as a crushed nut.

As the flocks that sang on the planet the attackers gathered around their allies, sweeping away the enemy, snatching their triumph in a train of royal feinted hail.

Towards the planet the greatest war bird flew. Upon her brow the crest of the Imperia and the tall letters for all to read

H.E.S VENGEANCE

This is the introduction to the story, set on the yet unnamed planet around which we later on receive the distress call from Yaltaria colony. The idea of the scene is that it is the Imperial fleet capturing an orcish base on the planet, which they have built recently. I wanted there to be that the sense that the orcish fleet are actually the good guys being attacked, and the Imperial ships are the enemy, only revealed to be the other way round with the revealing of the name of the lead ship.

I have changed the named of the admirals ship from victory to vengeance because i wanted something "angrier" for such a powerful ship. This has only really come to me as i was writting this, the sense of the sheer amount of weaponry the ship posseses. Accordingly the other ships of the class will get "angrier" names such as H.E.S Warspite, H.E.S Terror and H.E.S Terrible e.t.c. I fancy the name change because i believe that the imperia built the new Terrible class (changed from vengeance class just now as i want the admirals ship to be the most advanced in the fleet) as a direct response to the new enemy threat.

The Dreadnought class, the most powerful (weaponry wise) ships in the fleet will retain names that signify "size and strength" as opposed to an emotion. Including the H.E.S Dreadnought the other ships of the class (although i believe there are only three built now, with the first two on active duty and the third in defence of the homeworld, with a cloaking device and hugely upgraded weaponry) shalled be called the H.E.S Guardian and the H.E.S Formidable. The Guardian shall be the ship that (obviously) is behind in the home system guarding the imperial homeworld. I have changed this from the idea of it being a 'black ops' ship operating behind enemy lines due to a good idea about its use in an enemy attack on the homeworld.

Currently i am also thinking of the creation of a third, super dreadnought type battleship, the Revenge class, only one of which would be built after the return of the Vengeance to the imperial galaxy with the device created by Kaght in the Empire (the name i have given for our civilisation of man). It will be huge, twice the size of the ships seen when the admiral disovers the graveyard ships orbiting the fallen earth. Being the last ditch effort for the imperia to beat the enemy, it will be absoloutly bitching.

Entry the tenth - RE: the letharians

2006-07-23T22:08:00.000+01:00

I've been thinking recently about the actual logisitics of creating the letharians as the 'demi-monsters' that i want them to be.

I want them to be big, impressive guys, horns, spikes, big vast muscles (think pro-bodybuilders with pointy bits), but i think it would be a strech to have them as elves. I also want interaction with humans more than could be provided with elves, and then how would i introduce that particular geneology into kaght and others, from our civilisation?

If they were a genetic experiment on humans then that could be easier, and, just thinking now, i could have that particular large body type and physical stature be attributed to the letharians instead of previous humans as another attempt to cover up the fallen civilisation before the imperia.

Yes, i will do that, the elves can stay elvish, the imperia can believe they were the big guys. Maybe the letharians will be an artificial name for the military arm that were 'big', they could even be an offshoot of humans, a la the nitczsiens of andromeda.

Entry the ninth - underground in scholar vaults finding red book

2006-07-19T23:04:00.000+01:00

Such great breadth of soul was not gifted to those for reason beyond the scholars. For countless ages they have guarded lore, the vision of the gods and the holy relics, there was no place in the imperia where their touch could not be felt.
Walking through vaulted corridors where even the echo of their footsteps dared not disturb the sleeping dust. A wave of cold dread slipped over him as the realisation of how many generations the stillness had lain undisturbed emerged in his mind.
From hewn black walls dark faces stared out. Eyes followed the ruffled air along their path, biting into his back. It took all his will to stop them pushing him over in foul chorus. A knowing glance from the scholar brushed them from his mind, a muted query to the walls put them back to slumber.
Two vast doors appeared before them, emerging like tall peaks of mountains from the cloud. Invisible until nigh upon them, cut from the same rock that towered around them. They glared at him, demanding an explanation for their arousal. Murals and carvings covered their surface, tales and kings of memories faded; they chronicled the history of the universe, but permitted none to read.
Placing a withered hand upon a small dais beside a carving of a beast the admiral dared not imagine, the scholar spoke a few words of a language long dead to the behemoths before him.
Letting the hand slip back once again into the heavy cloak, the scholar bowed without word and beat a hasty retreat back along the cathedral of stone. When his footsteps once again hushed a silence, something began to stir.
A vibration crept through his feet, shaking his core but leaving the dust in peace, the mountains above him moved as a rusted hinge after years shut. Locks of unintelligible strength and being slipped home into their recesses, large booms signifying each one finishing a laboured cycle. All the armies in the imperia would never have breached the monoliths, magic and fear placed upon them by the gods themselves.
Without warning, the tremors stopped, the crunch of something unbolting permeated his bones. Slowly, such as the ancient things they were, the two doors began to part. A stale air escaped through, not full with decay, but the breath of something stirred from rest. Pivoting on hinges unseen, unfathomable in size, they continued to open, vast hordes may have entered in rank at only half travel.
The cavern around him was as if continued when they settled into their home, made for something vast he thought, far beyond anything in the mortal realm. He looked up, and saw no seam, they returned to the walls as a piece once of. Magic, or technology beyond his want stood afoot.
In the vast cave before him, no end stood in sight. Black more only stole the light seeping from behind him. Lying in the centre of the vault stood a stone pedestal, half a man in height, illuminated by a shaft of silver light from a place above unseen. Walking towards it, a pale shimmer bounced from its surface, growing stronger as he crossed the expanse towards it.
As he crossed an unseen mark, a muffled whisper permeated his thoughts. Spinning, the two doors had closed silently, he had walked for time of the smallest amount, and such magic was imposed for them to do so. They faded beyond view, and he stood, alone, in the empty hall, the spear from above his only guide.
Time left him as he walked silently, in spirit and body, towards the throne. Whence he finally came across it, not stone, but a single diamond, cut with skill long lost, covered with shining platinum runes, the writing of the pass spoken ago by the scholar.
Two steps, green marble, took him next to it. Things of old, organic writings stirred within. None for a thousand years, scholar, emperor, warrior had stepped foot upon the shrine, nor seen its pure wonder. The way sat clear towards him, everything that ever was, ever is, ever will be gifted to his understanding.
Not his own, words formed in his throat, slowly climbing to his mouth, gripping his lips and speaking themselves. Watching from above, the language of the gods spoke true from his heart, the prayer of the ether.
Returned to his heart, he looked down, before him sat a volume of earthen tales. Thick as the steps beneath, bound in faded leather, the fire not dimmed from its surface. Upon its front spelled out, in five lines of tarnished gold, its title, scribed in the tongues of the ancient ones.
Such time as when the fountain stood before him, not lust danced within its beam, stillness crouched all around.
For how long he wrestled, gazed, stared and studied, its meaning was beyond him. Forever he felt the urge, until a hand rose from his side and reached, quite lightly, without compelling, and touched it.
Cold under finger, the lore contained within rushed through his veins. Ancient deeds, quests, evil and light, towers and sunken treasures, all heard, none spoken.
No longer his soul could wait, another joined on the book, clasping its side gently. Mild resistance as the book tried to will itself shut, he opened.

Catapulted to a world of the gods, he stood amongst a field of grass, a blue sky high above, a gentle breeze and warm sun. He did not need to think, he did not need to understand how, it was as if he had known all his life, this was home.
Ripped from this place, he was thrown from the pedestal by a word of the gods, sprawled across the hard floor, the breath in his lungs leaving in a most undignified escape.
His head span, the void rushed towards him, dark times once more threatened his soul, but a voice penetrated, like a hand it pulled him up, and left him once more upon the ground.
“They give you their blessing, be glad, they do not tolerate such impunity from the arrogant for long”
A hunched figure stood above him, cradled over a knurled stave, beneath a cloak of discoloured purple and green a mass of white hair flowed, with two small eyes peering from behind eyebrows as thick as bark. He grinned, flashing old yellow teeth at this new curiosity.
The admiral looked up, his head still spinning, he felt as if he had just been fired through a torpedo tube.

When reading this my advice is to think Moria from the LOTR movies, big grandiose stone structures streching wherever the eye can see.
The actual place is far underground, a sacred place of the scolars (the religous monks of the imperia universe) which contains their vast amounts of treasures. It is also the place where everything that survived the fall of our civilisation, and those before it, is stored where possible. There are grand vaults containing millions of books. The place the admiral visit is one of the largest vaults, guarded by magic (from the valar, who through the scholars are still remembered and worshiped) and high technologies. I think i might stick with just technology, but i do like the idea of magic.
The book that the admiral finds is a copy of the red book of westmarch, the book that bilbo and frodo wrote, along with the silmarillion and the unfinished tales, a consise history of the first 3 ages in middle earth.
I am currently toying with the idea that the old man at the end is olorin (gandalf) sent back to help men find their way in fighting the enemy once again. He may just end up an elder scholar, but once again, it is a very intriguing idea.

Entry the Eighth - Yaltaria planet side & Letharian backstory myth

2006-07-14T21:43:00.000+01:00

The deepening crimson hue of his eyes betrayed nothing of the darkened thoughts coursing through the rivers of his mind. The evil hatred that consumed his psyche began spreading its tendrils, corrupting all that was good. Muscles twitched in his face, the only sign of the gathering storm beneath.
For second after second he stood motionless in a seething storm of anger, the mental barriers within him dropping one after another, and finally, giving under the onslaught of abhorrent spite.
His eyes contracted as if in thought, if anyone could have known what that simple gesture, one that any man has made a thousand times meant, their very soul would have chilled, and death would seem a kind escape into the thaw.
In a time span that saw the birth of the universe and the creation of all within it, the seeds of its destruction were sown. The tide of the war was about to turn, and the fate of every living thing sealed.

The shadow cast on the ground by the burning buildings was not of a man, that part of him was long since gone; the nature of the beast within consumed not only his broken mind, but also his body, changing and growing as the torment within thrust around in its rage.

In the ancient scrolls about demons of the night, prophets and mad men spoke of such creatures. They feared nothing, they saw everything, destroyed was anything that stood in their path. They stood a man and a half, and twice as wide, with bodies of giants. Their eyes penetrated into your core and saw what made your heart. By some vague resemblance they could be have said to once be of mortal kind, but such was the passage of their life that distorted had this become under horns and protrusions that sought solace in battle. Truly a thing bred for war, they commanded such terror that it was said even the gods themselves bowed before them, and in times of great threat would seek their alliance to save their children from death.
They had been prophesised to stalk the universe, in an eternal quest for their foes, seeking them wherever they sought refuge, killing them wherever they found them. Such was their quest that entire civilisations had rose and fallen in the time it took them to cross the expanses in search of their prey.
However, not all of their magnificence was devoted to the blessed pursuit of war. Great scholars and scientists they were said to have been. When the gods were young themselves, new of this world, they travelled the stars in search of knowledge and wisdom. Illness and hunger were never known neither was evil nor sin. Though some would call them monsters, abominations of the holiness, they had been such wondrous peoples that the great one himself knew that never in his forever life he would be able to read their libraries of lore and wisdom.
Then the enemy came, and the scrolls fall silent.

The explorers of old found desolation beyond all comparison, making the struggles of the gods seem but mere trivial arguments. Great swathes of the mother universe laid aghast in ruin. The great minds of the old ones turned from enlightenment to warfare. They sought the secrets of the mother not to find salvation, but to destroy everything that was contaminated by the growing dusk. So their soldiers did fight, and kill, and maim. Swearing oaths never to rest in this life or the next so long as the enemy stood, they committed themselves to hunting them, and resting, knowing the time would come that they would destroy what they despised and return to the true path the mother had laid out before them.

Such had happened under the fires. The Part of him that had lain dormant for eons, passed through bloodlines descended from the offspring of the ancient child of the gods, saw its time had come. The being that had once been the admiral was forced aside and the ancient command codes overrode his own body, standing ready to fight.

The Letharians had returned.

This passage deals in a brief way with the mythos of the letharians, where they started, and what they did.

Firstly, the parts about the admiral are the beginnings of the dormant parts of his DNA begining to become active and transform him into a letharian with aid from the maiar parts (or rather maiar essence transformed into mortal DNA). The scene occurs on the Yaltaria colony, where his family, and that of the doctors (amongst others) were when it was destroyed from orbit. The enemy leveled the colony, leaving it a smoking ruin, rather than simply vaporising it with a torpedo. This was done as a method of further causing grief amongst the people who would find it, and more specifically the breaking of the admiral when he saw what his actions (in staying to defend the newely captured outpost at the beginning) had led too.

The letharians i believe are elven, specifically the Noldor, as they are often the most warlike. Because all the orcs (who are part of 'the enemy') were anihilated sometime during the 4th/5th ages when the enemy re-ermerged they needed materials to restart the lines. As it is my belief that orcs were originally elves with some bits of human sprinkled in a later stages, the enemy chose to attempt to take this method instead. Whilst they managed to create some new orcs, some of the elves escaped with their new physical defects. Instead of hiding away or whatever they embraced their deformities taking them to complete new extremes. A rising number of noldor began to take this further creating something that whilst having horns, spines and whatever else, still had the essence of nobility and awe granted to all elves. They could be scary if angered, but the rest of the time stood more like statues (in the sense of grace, not standing still) or a suit of armour per se.

Whilst the letharians as is only stood at a small percentage of the actual elven race, they were more remembered, and held more in folklore than their 'standard' elven counterparts. Their technology is not much different from the other elves, and all worked together (except the teleri, who refused to build ships for the noldor due to the first kin slaying, but still fought in battle besides).

In the passage it is stated they could have been once considered mortal, and suffered no hunger, nor evil nor sin, but this is just due to distilling of the truth over time, and the lack of knowledge by the original writers of the certain ill-deeds commited by elves.

It should also be noted that the 'gods' mentioned in the passage are not tolkienite gods, such as eru and the valar, but rather those gods from the previous great civilisation of man, carried over into the imperia. Those gods are prominent figures in this current time.

Here is a somewhat short and likely to change list of the gods i currently have playing around in my head.

Arherus – King of the gods (Arthur)
Roban – God of the Just (Robin)
Neisinuu – God of the sea and the stars (Nelson)
Marhdid – God of the underworld (Mordred)
Ritaru – God of Valour/Honour (Richard)
Marhun – God of Sorcery (Merlin)
Kaht – God of war
Etria – God of love and peace
Elder ones – Valar
Angels - Maiar
Forever one – Eru

Entry the Seventh - tireless jump out

2006-07-10T22:11:00.000+01:00

‘Tactical report’ He barked across the bridge, eyes glued intently on the formations displayed on the screen. Small characters danced around each ship, displaying tactical information, speed, size, everything that could be required. With such an immense fleet, the screen seemed as if someone had scrambled the computers processors, but the tactical officer dutifully narrated the mess.

“Over 2000 ships sir, 574 capital, 681 heavy support and carrier, well over 800 fighters and more emerging from their bays every second ’

A small voice, wavering with fear, piped up from behind the environmental station ‘What about troop carriers, tenders, convoys, they cant have that many combat capable ships, its not possible!”

“Calm there, I’d imagine our forces in the rest of the galaxy are wondering where their targets suddenly vanished to.’ He paused in thought for a moment, his fingers intertwining and the two index fingers standing tall, touching his bottom lip, the way he always looked when pondering. ‘Have we received word from the fleet admirals?’

The comm. Officer pressed a few buttons, but everyone knew the reality. ‘No sir, sorry sir’.

The fingers never moved from his lips, he searched inside himself for the answer, ever since Yaltaria he had not had the clarity he once had. Things that came so naturally to mind felt locked away somewhere, just out of his grasp. With a stretch, he reached out and grasped it. Distance maybe, but this was not the time or the place for his problems to affect the rest of the crew. He was their rock, he was not about the make them doubt why he had brought them here.

“Has the Tireless finished repairs to their jump engines?”

Quick taps and beeps from the comms console bounced around the otherwise silent room ‘Yes sir, Captain Ramirez has engines running at full power again’

“On screen”

A young man flashed onto the screen, looking somewhat annoyed by the sudden intrusion. He handed back a tool to a body crouched awkwardly beneath a console. Small furrows in his brow betrayed his emotions, he was not happy.

‘Our jump engines and comms are online, tactical is protesting and we’re beating the food replicators into submission as we speak, so as long as your not looking for a drink’ he paused, making sure this wasn’t some joke ‘ then what can I do you for admiral?’
The admiral grinned a little; Captain Ramirez did make him laugh, even if he was a complete pain in the ass.

“We haven’t heard from the fleet admirals, I want you to jump out of here and make contact with…”

‘…Didn’t I tell you the radiation would mess with our systems? But no, do not listen to me; send me on some fools errand instead, fine.’ The screen reverted to its previous tactical display with a discourteous scratch.

The admiral stared at the screen for a couple more seconds, slightly unsure of whether he had what he wanted or not from the captain.
Turning around, the somewhat stunned looks of a few of the bridge crew were quickly averted back to their screens, and he sat back down. The more seasoned officers smirked, Ramirez was a pain in the ass, if there hadn’t been a war on, half the fleet would be lined up to boot him. Now there was everyone else in the Imperia, and the enemy, wanted in on it too.

The Tireless’ engines shone a deep orange, and it quickly accelerated away, did a sharp turn and jumped out of the system. Left now were just the few badly damaged ships of the Yaltarian defence fleet, his own flagship and its cruiser screen. He prayed to Arherus for a miracle, and sat back down into his chair, the two fingers rejoining his bottom lip.

This particular entry is phrased after the section about the battle of the two teeth. So far i plan to extend it in several sections, i just need to think about what to do. I don't like the name Ramirez for the captain, it seems like too much of a cliche, but for now its a working title. He could be alot of fun to flesh out, i plan on making him arrogant, stubborn and a pain in the ass, but utterly dependable and excellent at his job. The Tireless will be a fast scout, with the highest top speed in the fleet.

I am really not too sure where abouts this battle comes in. It will be a major fight, with the introduction of the two Dreadnought class battlecruisers Invincible and Dreadnought, which will kick major ass. My plan so far is for the Tireless to find these two, sending them towards the fight. After that i am unsure as to whether it should find the rest of the Imperial fleet. I have a good idea for the Tireless to jump out of FTL chased by the enemy, only for them to be clobbered by the imperial fleet. However this seems to close to the discovery of the ninth fleet (wherever i deem they should find them, either in the milky way or imperia galaxy), so i may write it differently.

The Dreadnoughts are my big guns of the imperial navy, twice as powerful as the victory class (the ship class of which the admiral commands the first of class, the Victory) but not as physically big. The current idea is that the outer hull is not built, but rather forged, making them obscenely tough, but extremely expensive (at roughly 1.5 times as costly as the victory class). As such the navy only built 3 before deciding to build more victory class instead, which can ferry troops, figthers and other materials.
The dreadnoughts are pure power, with primary weapons taken from planetary batteries and wedge shaped shields that aid in ramming the enemy. Their tactics in battle involve charging the enemy full on, unleashing a volley to disable their shields and plowing right through. Because their armour is forged rather than constructed, they have gunnery ports, so weapons fire along a fixed axis, instead of other weapons in the navy which fire more like phasers (although the main batteries on the victory are forward facing only). In the above battle, they come in from the side, plow through several enemy ships, destroying several more until the reach the middle of their fleet. Then (with the local enemy ships turning and fleeing) they unleash all their weapons, completly devestating the line allowing the rest of the imperial fleet to decimate them.

I say there are three ships of the class built because the last one built, the Death Stalker was an experimental upgrade, armed with gravometric charges and heavy planetary weapons, which put it as powerful as a fleet in its own right. It was "lost" with the 175th fleet (which will be expanded on in a later entry) on an incursion into enemy space. It will resurface to cause some severe havoc.

Entry the sixth - general backround mythos

2006-07-06T23:02:00.000+01:00

When the universe was created by Eru in the beginning, Melkor (the most powerful of the Valar) tried to subvert the music of the Ainur to his own devices. As such, all the elements of the universe have woven into their very fabric of being a level of malevolence and evil. The very act of Melkor opposing Eru in his music has what has caused the universal aim to shift away from contentment (which is my 'ideal' state of existence for the universe) towards extremes of emotions that are caused by the changing state of the music caused by Eru and Melkor slugging it out.
Love, for example, is joyous when going right (Eru's influence), but due to Melkors it can also become hideous and saddening. In a universe without Melkors influence, there would be a more standard state of contentment, similar to love, just not as intense. As such, some of the greatest feelings known to the elves/men/dwarves/other creatures are directly caused by Melkor, as Eru and the other Valar oppose his changes. This is ironically exactly what Melkor tried to 'prevent', a proverbial balance of power.

With dwarves, who were created by Aule instead of Eru, Melkors influence affects them in a different way from elves and men, who are creations of Eru and the music, and as such influenced directly. Dwarves were made sturdier so they could survive the ravages present on Arda under Melkors rule, but this means they are more prone to temper and general bad-ness, because they are more dependant on it for survival. They have committed many ill-deeds on the account of this, even if their creation was supposed to be independent from the others.

Elves and men suffer most greatly from Melkors influence, with their violent nature (more so with men, but the elves are known to have both kin-slayed, and warred) caused by the corruption of Melkor.

Another point I thought could be interesting was regarding Balrogs. Balrogs are Maiar, just as Sauron, Gandalf and Melian, but manifest themselves as fire spirits. Melkor, in the beginning, corrupted them and other Maiar to his service. I had the notion that not all were corrupted, with some staying loyal to Eru. Instead of being creatures of shadow and red flame (as with the 'standard' Balrog we see in the movies and books), they were instead spirits of white flame, grandiose and impressive in the stature, but not fearful or evil. Think of it in the same way as a dragon, some are 'evil' in their appearance and demeanour, others are not.
For the armies of the Valar, and other 'divine' interventions in the storyline, this could lead to some wonderful plot devices.

In a universe without Morgoth (or after the remaking of Arda post-final battle) all creatures would seek a state of contentment, without the shadows of malice that haunt current events, but also without the exultant highs that can be afforded (as i previously discussed). This is my own contribution to the myths, developed from my own aims and desires in life.

It should also be noted the irony that the anger and evil that Morgoth introduced into the universe via the music in the beginning, with fuel the fires in the hearts of those who fight him at the end, and ultimately the heart of Turin, who will kill him. If he had not corrupted the music, there would be no 'fire' in Turins heart, and he would therefore not have killed him.

Entry the fifth - entering earth orbit post-fall

2006-07-05T21:37:00.000+01:00

The barren dust covered planet bore before them, orbited by a single moon and a vast debris field, evidence of an epic battle.
“Entering the field now sir”
“Keep point beams up, make us a path lieutenant, all ahead slow” spoke the admiral, his fingers resting below his lip.
“Aye sir, all ahead slow”
Creeping forward, beams gently moved floating charred remains from the path of the victory, placing them around its corridor. All around carnage long since extinguished betrayed the loss of millions of lives, echoes of screams permeated the twisted hulks. All aboard felt the eerie feeling they were trespassing somewhere sacred, entering a history kept from them, for good reasons.
A vast colossus tumbled over its axis in front of the bow, the gaping hole in its stern half, through which a squadron could fly, gave the account of how something so large could be so left.
“All stop” said the admiral, standing from his chair and taking a step forwards. He paused for several seconds, taking scope of the sight before him, something stirred in the depths of his mind, though he knew not what.
As the once proud vessel began to rotate over, the beams of light from the systems sun began to appear from behind the planet, basking the graveyard in a vast golden hue, striking their way through the multitude of broken remains, and illuminating hundreds of burnt carcasses.
The officers and crewmen stared at the viewer, the scans had shown the extent of the debris upon exiting hyper speed, but to see it with their own eyes disturbed their minds most thoroughly.
Hundreds of ships, all holed, burnt, tumbling through orbit in unnatural stances, one could only guess at how vast a force it must have taken to end them. Three hulks, stood from the wreckage, dominating the screen. Even in their current state they sat thrice the size of the victory, a crowning glory in a once exquisite empire. The ships looked as if they were once identical, brothers in war. A vast central mass with wings sweeping from its midpoint to the stern at which the remains of the engines crouched. Upon its centre line a ridge ran from the stern to a hump, around which a purple line streaked itself. At the tip a vast single mass, no plating or other markings as on the rest. No doubt served that it was a ram that would have pierced many a flank given the chance. Only one hulk showed the unmistakable scars of impact, flowing down its right flank.
The admiral turned to face the comms station “Zoom in; there are markings on the prow, see if the translator can interpret”.
A cryptic language painted across the brow appeared in the upper left corner of the screen, with the translator working through all known languages flashing beneath, searching for a meaning.
Letters and symbols flashed over and over, imposing themselves over the dead language, before the image momentarily blurred and disassembled itself, before returning, bearing the scarred title;
‘HMS VICTORY’

This particular scene is getting on my nerves because i can't get the image of the old earth ships (the big ones) clear enough in my mind to describe them, and do so in a way that still allows me plenty of room to give the ships of the imperia a distinctive 'feel'.
Another point i havn't quite figured out is where they get the ability to translate the text on the ship (english) into imperial standard. Obviously they will require a source material somewhere to compose the translation, but i havn't thought where.

The ships have been hit with gravometric charges, basically a big wadge of neutronium (the real, collapsed star stuff) fired at them. When it impacts, it detonates, causing the damage. The weapons are sort of the nukes of the universe, but very unwieldy. The big ships in this scene will all have been totalled by trying to prevent (and ultimatly failing) gravometric charges from impacting the surface, using their mass as shields.
In the time of the imperia, technology will have advanced far enough that gravometric charges will be planet and star busters, not just honking space guns. This comes into play in another scene, which i think i may post tomorrow.

Entry the fourth - Battle of the two teeth text

2006-07-03T22:01:00.000+01:00

The two fleets stood opposite each other, like great behemoths they waited. The planets turned and span by, cold darkness consumed the fading light of the ancient suns and time passed with such slowness that one could have reached out and taken it for life.

The templars described such meetings in their dusty books and primeval parchments. In days of old the gods fought for their children, amassing mighty fleets and vast armies’ of lesser great ones, they set sail to do battle with the encroaching shadow. Breaching onto the ashen beaches, they reached the dead lands and set forth on a journey to seek and destroy the evil.A year and a day after the white harbours of their homeland faded beyond the stern they came across their foe in the mountains of the two teeth, to which ice never melted and no creature dared venture. The broken lands where blood and death are waiting like a raven in the sky, and storm crows gather around the black feast.Under the fading light of the setting sun and with the two mighty powers clashed. Hour after hour, day after day the armies of the light and of the dark ravaged the vast snowdrifts with their blood and sweat.

Though the gods had grown such a force, they began to falter against the pressing might of the malevolence. Pushed back against the rock walls all began to fall apart. Their bravest warriors held back the tide, but all was lost.In this, the darkest moments the gods have ever seen, a saviour came to them. Kaht, the god of war, born from the will of Arherus to protect his brothers and sisters, brought his wrath down. Fire and lightening tore from his fingers, destruction on everything they touched. His voice reined a roar that shook the mountains, waking them from their eternal slumber, binding them to his will and loosing them on the enemy. Forces known only to Arherus escaped his eyes, everything he gazed upon sprang into unquenchable fireDesolation and ruin. Carnage and Death.

Kaht sacrificed his essence, his nature as an immortal being to save the armies and peoples he belonged to, the peoples he came from. Such was his sacrifice Arherus granted him the gift of rebirth. If such time came when his children required the power of the teeth to guard and protect them from evil, he would be summoned into this realm from his own sleep to assemble the resting armies and man the bastions of old.

Now, this particular peice of text is the 'mythology' of an event that has happened towards the end of the first great civilisation of man (though i may change the numbering to account for numenor, in which case it would be the third, or maybe even the british empire, so the fourth). It is based upon a peice of prose i wrote several years ago, in which a distant weapons engineering outpost comes under seige by the enemy. During that time the enemy also attack earth, which falls, leaving humans with no homeworld, or any real command structure.

The facility which is under seige is a frozen planet (though this also may change, keep reading) orbiting a double star system (the two teeth). The outpost is working on the last ditch weapon to beat the enemy, a tactical black hole, which was meant to obliterate the system it would be deployed in, or release vast quantities of radiation, also not sure which one to choose yet.
When the weapon detonates in the binary system, as an attempt to stop the research falling into the enemies hands, it instead creates a white hole, which spews out a huge amount of radiation into the system, killing everyone (bad and good guys) therein. Kaght (the 'proper' name for the character Kaht) is killed before the weapon detonates, and is frozen (though, like i said before, i may change this, due to the next point). My idea was the white hole did not just release radiation, it removed the ability of space to 'support' life (due to a reason i have yet to figure), so the body of kaght did not decompose, but because he was already dead, and frozen, when the weapon detonated, he could be brought back to life later on in the novel. However, if the space in the system cannot support life, how then can the admiral come with his ship to find him? Unresolved questions that pose issues. If it is not a frozen planet, the body will not survive well enough.

I have several ideas of what to do with him, most revolving around him having the knowledge of the weapon that has been lost (or purposfully forgotten) over time. They find the outpost after visiting earth, which has been anhilated, and discovering their (the admirals) civilisation was the not the first one of men.
This bringing back to life also could work in interesting ways because kaght will not know the outcome of his war, or what has happened afterwards, only that he died, and so, apparently, did his family on earth.

The admiral is a direct descendant of kaght, who is a direct descendant of Beren and Luthien, and therefore both men, elves and the maiar (the last of which is very important for reasons that will be apparent later).

Entry the third - Admirals Quarters w/Captain

2006-07-03T01:03:00.000+01:00

A small flower sat gently on a table near his bed, bound such with grace in its container, supported softly by the caress of the water beneath.
Short spires of green leaves gleamed from the stem as it rose upwards, climbing as a ladder up to the heavens above.
Like a great eruption of a sleeping giant, twice of thrice burst forth from his head in a fusion of radiance and ethereal flower. Fire and the sleeping sun intertwined in a majestic dance of wild embrace. Gentile curve charmed the silken petals through their life to earthen safety, but such as the eldest ones spoke nought they fell. Reaching above forever locked.
In mind rung to simple desires seen beyond the shadow of evils stood a beauty left upon the realm of mortals from ancient times. Spoken through cloud and stars a gentle breeze, purest blossom of snow and wrought despair. Might ever have been blessed, granted freedom of the halls and columns, were it not a fall from perceived grace of those who cared not for all.
Peering beyond, stood thrice of twice and one, reaching to those who would give them hope. But spent the second, that who would have been sired from demon, fury of races aged commanded against from times forgotten. Might have it been rescue given, but were not the smallest flower in a sea of broken time.
Floating through the kingdom of ancients and imperial might of men, wrought from majesty and sweetest music, may it sit through evil deeds, unknowing of all that is fought for, so should it remain.
“They were her favourite, I always kept one wherever I was stationed, even when we were young I had one in my quarters, there was a time when I considered getting it mused onto my arm”
‘Was this before or after your classmates threatened you with an airlock?’
He laughed, the memories of simpler things sweeping away fell things
“Before, but they never did dare take one from its home I will remind you” he said waving a finger.
Smirking back, the captain dared not think what things would have become someone who had dared to do so.
“But, such were things back then, the foolish thoughts of young love, great plans; at one time we would have built a house and left this all behind us”
‘Three stories tall, overlooking a lakeside where you could escape in a boat, I remember the place’ came his return, with a somewhat tired, albeit amused, expression.
Breathing heavily, he turned back down towards the flower, still sitting beneath him, the events behind returning to his fore. Dark deeds slunk through an open gate to him, his eyes moving as if reading a manuscript placed before him in some distant fief.
The air in the room chilled with a sudden clamour to climes elsewhere. The captain shivered, and glanced around as a wave of unease washed over him. Looking upwards the admiral stood with his back to him, his hands grasped around the table edge, speaking as if the captain stood but a Naugrim before him, privy to his most private musings.
‘These words, these accursed words…They stand before me, blithe in their intolerant cruelty. Fealty is cheap amongst those in serve to the sacred ideals of times forgotten. Never shall I grasp them, always they jump, they seethe and slither. They bring with them such power, my thoughts are but mine along, but they…’
Great anger, hatred, betrayal, shared from their torment spread great shadows around the ashen walls, life drained from its clutch into vengeful glass.
‘…they would swear to me, they would make me strong, cast aside crevasses between the feuding parties of the sorrow and fire. Sought is wisdom, let to none, whispered to all.’
Turning, the red anger shining through his eyes threw a cloak around him. Rage welled from within, frothing and bubbling, spat from his lips and twisted into dark things. Rising tall, the man that stood just now lost in his own depths gone, new things stirred and took command, their power growing with each word they stitched into the blackened weave.
‘Beseech I must, an army I shall raise, wastes and desolation will ride before me as the fire behind. All shall know my wrath, I will command legions, my sight shall see all, my hatred will bring fear to all the enemy, kneel in terror before me I will make them, then crush them.
The gods shall not halt me, told by the eldest ones the plots of old, be gone with you and bring me my sword, heathens shall it hew, BE GONE!’

The captain nodded and left, only when the door closed behind him did the madness strike him, like a foul blow to the head. Moving off, lost in his own thoughts, he tried to push everything but the order out of his mind, maybe he could forget that which he did not wish to remember, or at least bury it until this mess was over.

Two main issues with this (beyond the crappy initial description of a flower, which is meant to be a tiger lily, but i couldn't find a good picture), firstly the characters. I don't like the interaction between them at the moment, it seems to...perfect, kinda like everything is ok. They're meant to be good friends going back a long time, but it still doesn't work as well as i want it.
The second issue is that of the word naugrim (in italics). It is elvish for dwarf (meaning short-ones, or to that effect), but at this present moment in the timeframe of the story, there is no knowledge of dwarves.
I could move the framing from before the mission to find the letharians, to after the discovery of earth, which may work better with the raising of the army.
Whatever time it is set, the admiral is already broken, and suffering from severe moodswings. I'm not too sure if i captured that ok, but i've got to come back and alter the rest anyways.

Entry the Second - Orbiting unnamed planet

2006-07-01T23:36:00.000+01:00

It was as if his body had screamed to stop, and every cell brought to the most immediate halt.
The expression on his face morphed to one of a false strength and flickered slightly, the only betrayal of the ties to his heart severing themselves in dissent.
His soul, once an eternal part of him, crashed past his heart with not the slightest slowing.
A million platinum stars shattering on the bleakest shores. Nothing of its former splendour held in the fall of disgrace in the surrender of the mind.
“no”
It slipped from his lips, dragged from the deepest recesses of the remains of a once proud man, and thrown from his mouth in disgust. The confused shock that permeated from the stares of everyone around seeped through the sound waves, turning itself through the tiny footprints in the air before demanding explanation.
‘SIR! They need our help, we have to go!’ The outburst charged into the void and brought another heartbeat to all.
A moment passed, the longest era of man, contained but within the tiniest speck of time.
The commanding tone of captain Ruarn split the thread that held them present.
“Battle stations! Bring us to a higher orbit, scan for jump points, engage planetary defence pattern delta, bring all weapons to emergency stand by and prepare to engage”
Another eternity passed, the staff unsure of whether they were dreaming, or if everything they had believed in had just collapsed around their feet.
“NOW!” Barked the captain, striding across the bridge to come next to the admiral. He whispered a few words into his ears as consoles came to life and the room was purged into a deep red hue.
From the wretches of a dark eon the crew took to their tasks, personal thoughts buried forcibly beneath the tasks at hand. Secretly some prayed for the mercy of the Empress and the Gods, wishing they would be struck down quickly if they failed.
The captains’ hand sitting on his shoulder gave him strength, but the turmoil within brewed storms of evil deeds, only Arherus could forgive his sins.

This is set after the re-capture of the yet unnamed planet from the enemy forces, which i have yet to write. The Admiral (the main protaganist) believes there will be a counter attack for the planet by the enemy, so choses to remain there despite the distress calls (also yet unwritten) of a colony currently under attack elsewhere. The planet, and is re-capture represents a significant strategic gain in that sector of space. The Admiral does not have a name anywhere in my designs, so be advised thereof.

Boo

2006-07-01T23:05:00.000+01:00

Well, off to a great start here, my internet connection has decided it doesn't like blogs, and has died not once, not twice, but three times in my attempts to publish.

Ahh well, schnizzle happens.

Anyhoos, contained within these pages is my attempts to formulate my novel, which is based upon the Tolkien-Verse, just many years later, and in a different type of genre. The mythology is really where i'm taking a lot of my inspiration. I've got the idea of writing this blog due to working my way through Unfinished Tales, one of the many books published posthumously by Christopher Tolkien. I want a record of my changes and ideas that simply cannot be provided by altering a word document time and time again.

But anyway, i digress, i do hope you enjoy reading, and please feel to leave constructive criticism.

Big K

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Basically, my stuff is my own, k?

A blurb (rudimentary mind you):

50,000 years into the future, the second great civilisation of man, the Imperia, flourishes throughout the galaxy. Their power rival to none, trillions of beings find safe harbour within their mighty borders, protected by the valour of the Imperial Navy.
When the dark enemy came, through shadow and fire, the warriors of the Empire fell before them, the black smothering the light.
In ancient times, it was written that a mighty race had stood firm as the enemy crashed around them, it had strewn them across its shores and banished them from its lands.
The bravest men of the Imperia set out on a journey to find the first race, those who had fought and won. Simple though their task, the eldest ones cared not for quests that any could complete, and the very foundations of the Imperia would be shaken, its premise of existence questioned by its most loyal subjects.
Through the vast emptiness of space, the great book of Arherus would guide them onwards, past the gods and to the forever one himself in suffering of their home.