New Dominion IC Roleplaying Thread

[Daemonknight]

Faction Roleplaying Thread(Clan Ghost Bear, Clan Snow Raven, Free Rasalhauge Republic)

[Dave Baughman]

Vanirkår Memorial Park
Downtown Erinyes City
Planet Orestes, The New Dominion
26 August 3090

A gentle wind swayed the rows of Cypress trees as Rolf Magnusson mounted the podium, the silver piping on his KungsMarine uniform shining in the afternoon sun; the Elected Prince - Riksföreståndare in the nation's Swedenese tongue - lacked the dramatic black eyepatch and white bearskin cape of his father, but had no shortage of presence in his own right. Between the battle scars earned in his many and extremely public trials of grievance and his powerful physique, there was no denying that Rolf Magnusson was very much his father's son. And to think, Rolf silently told himself, there was a time when I wanted nothing more than to escape my father's path in life.

The holorecorders hummed quietly and a few scattered birds sang; the assembled dignitaries - many of them veterans of the Terran War - shifted in their seats. Barrack and Jaffar Cizek were there in the front row, their black semidress uniforms bedecked with medals, as was the old and long-retired Galaxy Admiral Marcus Bourjon, but many of the heroes of the War were not here today. Too many had found eternal glory on the battlefield, and many more had succumbed to the years. Rolf's father had chosen to immitate his predecessor and largely retire from public life, and many of the top generals and admirals had followed his example when the war ended.

When it finally did end, the rebuilding of the Bottom Seven had begun. Some of the worlds rebounded quickly, almost as if they had never fallen under Terran guns... and later Blakist atomics. Orestes, however, had struggled. The long back-and-forth battle to eject both the regular Terran army and the sinister Shadow Divisions of the maniacal Blood of the Master had turned Erinyes and much of the rest of the planet into wasteland. Slowly but surely however, Orestes had returned to its former glory as the dead were buried and new buildings rose from the ruins. Years ago, the Vanirkår Memorial Park had been known as the Grönland Trädgårdar - before first the Blood-financed Dominion Front and then the Terrans' 32nd Zeta Battalion turned the expansive city park into a field of charcoal and corpses.

It was here, facing down the best 'Mech troops that Planet Outreach's Wolf Dragoons had produced, that the heroes of the Vanirkår gave their lives for the Dominion. In truth, most of them gave their lives for the second time; the men and women of the Vanirkår were not ordinary warriors - maimed in battle (many under the guns of Star Adder warships at Grumium) they were given the choice between a medical discharge or a chance to continue servining the Dominion as part of a top-secret weapons program. With the help of renegade Wolf Clan scientists, the quadruple amputees were joined to battle steel and myomer to become the Free Rasalhague Republic's first ProtoMech warriors.

When the Terrans came to Orestes, the Vanirkår were waiting for them in the dense woods of the Trädgårdar - and there they inflicted terrible losses on the Zeta Battalion invaders before the sheer mass of the Terrans' assault 'Mechs levelled the entire expanse. The original dense foliage never grew back, though in time a soft carpet of grass returned to the park. The Cypress trees were an import, as were the giant figures draped in gray cloth.

Rolf came to attention and the crowd stood, hands raised in salute or held over their hearts, as the Dominion's national anthem broke the silence. An honor guard of Dominion warriors - one of them clearly a Clan descended Elemental - rose the blue and white flag of the Dominion with reverence. A moment later, Magnusson adressed the onlookers.

"Twenty years ago," he spoke gravely, "foreign invaders came to this place. They came here on what they believed was the first step of a crusade to destroy our United Republic, our Dominion. But the Terrans and their Master erred, for they did not understand that the will of free men will always conquer the dreams of tyrants. Here, and in a thousand other places, the free people of our Dominion made their stand. They made their stand and they died, but they did not die in vain; they understood, just as our ancestors understood, that there is no defeat in a martyr's death - for when one free man dies to protect his home, two more step forth to take his place. The Master's dreams for galactic domination died on Dominion soil, and it was warriors like the Vanirkår who drove the sword through the heart of that ambition."

Magnusson paused for a moment, then continued, "Twenty years ago, the Terran invaders were driven from Orestes. The victory came too late for the Vanir, but they will live on in eternal glory. I present to you today the Vanirkår Memorial Park, a place for us to remember the heroes who gave their lives for us, and to reflect upon the price of freedom."

With a whisper of cloth, the drapes fell away to reveal the rows of statues. At the head of the host stood Gordon Jorgensson, larger than life at six meters tall, clad in armor reminiscent of the Gorgon II he had inhabited during his final battle. His hands rested on the hilt of an equally massive greatsword, pointed down into the earth where a stele proclaimed "Gordon Jorgensson: He gave his life for the Republic, and gave it again for the Dominion." In formation behind Jorgensson stood others - Ulric Eide, Miriam Tromp, Gustav Wetterstrom, all of the hundred warriors of the Vanirkår, each memorialized in stone.

Rolf could not help reflect upon the rather distinct resemblance of Hans-Bertil Moberg's sculptures to his own Great Work. Not so surprising, I suppose, the Prince thought, those statues certainly earned their share of fame... and infamy in their time.

"Let us never forget," Rolf spoke to the crowd, "that the prosperity we now enjoy is built on a foundation of sacrifice. Let us never forget the heroes who chose death before dishonor, who chose to lay their lives down for freedom rather than retreat, who in fighting to the last won eternal glory. Let us never forget the words that founded our nation in the fires of Second Tukayyid and in the burning skies over Alshain. Fellow Citizens, let us emulate the valiant dead of the Vanirkår when next the dark clouds of war come to the Dominion - let us fight with blood, fight with steel, die with honor and never yield! For death or glory we shall march forth always! För dödsfall eller ära!"

[Fatebringer]

Reserved for New Dominion Intro.

Dave, please delete this post and repost it below this thread so the Faction info can be on top. TY!

[Dave Baughman]

The White Tower
Planet Tamar, The New Dominion
22 December 3090

Freyja Ek examined the small group of men and women before her with a cold expression, "I do not need to congratulate any of you for your achievements. The fact alone that you stand here at the peak of the White Tower should be sufficient reward. You few, out of the many who were recruited for this program, have survived and flourished and grasped victory. You are my Dödsänglarna, and your footsteps will fill the nightmares of our Republic's enemies. You came to me orphans and bastards, attainted by the blood in your veins or the acts of your forebearers, and you have proven your loyalty to the State and to the people beyond every expectation."

"The remainder of this day is yours to enjoy. Take it as a day of rest, a day of celebration, whatever you would make of it. Tomorrow you will have your first assignments, for the work of securing the State is never over. Dödsänglarna, you are dismissed."

The assembled agents took little time in dispersing, though one was held fast by the Director's next words, "Månsdottir, remain here." A moment later, a young woman in plain gray fatigues stood alone before the aging Director's wheelchair.

"I'm sorry to keep you, Hervor. If there is anyone here who deserved a moment of respite it is you... but I'm afraid I have a task for you this night," Freyja Ek paused to appraise the young woman. Hervor Månsdottir had her great-grandfather's narrow face, framed by shoulder-length blonde hair; she also had a feline grace that the lanky old Regent had never had even in his youth. From the other side, I suppose, thought Ek.

"I knew your grandparents when they still used your surname, you know," she continued distantly, "Indeed, had events played out somewhat differently I might have been on Great Bear to share your great-grandfather's fate at Second Tukayyid... oh, ignore my ramblings. Those were different times; in those times you might have lived a normal life... in a few decades you might rule this nation. Tell me, Hervor: are you bitter about your fate?"

Hervor Månsdottir resisted the urge to tell the easy, noble lie, "Director, it would be self-deception for me to deny it. In my grandfather's generation they brought the Dominion to the edge of civil war to put a stop to the Annihilation and yet... what has truly changed? My mother's blood cost me everything; in the eyes of the law I am bastard-born - I cannot even claim my father's name. You have been very kind to me over the years, Director, but I have no doubt that you would sign the kill order yourself if I ever sought to claim my birthright. So yes, I am bitter; but I am also a loyal daughter of the State. Because of the injustice of my birth, I have never had a family other than the State. What else can I do but protect my family?"  

Ek nodded slowly, "Though the circumstances were very different, your father once expressed a similar sentiment. In his own way, he was trapped into a life he did not choose; still, he accepted his place in the world and came to master it. I expect the same from you."

Hervor could not repress a narrow, lopsided smile at the praise, "Director, you spoke of a task?"

"Yes... I'm afraid there is a matter I need attended to. As you probably know, we recently rounded up a number of Terran sympathizers; interrogations are ongoing, but we've already discovered the details of the cell here on Tamar. I have a job that you are uniquely suited for, with your particular background. We will not be rolling up the Tamar cell; instead, you are to infiltrate them and discover the identity of their Word of Blake controller. However, that will just be the beginning of your mission..."

[Dave Baughman]

Feldman's Cafe
Zh'gak city, Planet Skokie
The New Dominion
26 December 3090

Hervor Månsdottir washed by the bitter-tasting pill with a swish from her beer stein as she waited for her contact. Not surprisingly, hooking up with the Skokie cell of the so-called Hand of Tyr had been a less than easy task. At least, she consoled herself, I haven't caught the Skokie Shivers yet.

"Freden i Tyr vare med er, syster," a male voice spoke in quiet tones. Hervor turned to face the speaker with a subdued smile, "Jag var rädd att du inte skulle komma. I was just getting ready to leave."

"Probably not the worst idea, actually," the man said with a nod towards the Security Police men who had just a little too casually entered the cafe. Hervor smirked as the Säpos did their best to look like they weren't sweeping the room with their eyes. Must be Raven personnel, she thought with an inner eye-roll, purely amateur hour.

Hervor finished her beer then looked to her new acquaintance, an older man with a thick gray moustache dressed in blue-collar laborer's clothes, "Well, that was a pleasant meal," she said with the slightest bit of extra enunciation, "time to get back to work, I think."

Somewhat to her surprise, Hervor almost made it to the door before one of the Säpo men stopped her with a raised hand, "Identity check. Your ID card please, citizens."

Hervor's companion tendered his ID card with deference, and was casualy waved on his way after a brief swipe of the Säpo's scanner. Månsdottir did her best to follow his act, but the Security man was definitely taking too long to scrutinize her credentials. Did she set this up? thought Hervor, Crap, she did set this up. I'm about to get burned for the djävulska mission!

"I'm afraid there's a problem with your card, citizen. Please come with us," he said in a flat tone that betrayed a hint of concern as his eyes flashed over to his partner for an instant.

"But offfffficer," Hervor said in her sweetest voice, batting her eyelashes at the Säpo man, "If I don't get back to work I'll get fiiiiiiiiiired," she pouted.

"Do not, citizen, if you do not go back to work. This will only take a moment, but you must come with us," he smiled condescendingly just before she stuck the neural stud into his crotch. The sight of his partner dropping to the ground and flopping about like a beached fish stunned the second Security Police man just long enough for Hervor to vault over a table, grasp a barstood, and smash it across the side of his head before he could unholster his handgun.

The sudden burst of violence dropped a pall of silence over the bar for a moment, which was quickly replaced with howls of outrage and fear as probably half the patrons all treat to run out the front door at the same time. Hervor, entirely disinterested in staying in the bar a moment later, recovered her ID card from the fallen (still twitching) Säpo man and made her exit.

Once outside, Hervor was pleased to see her companion was waiting for her, "You," she said, "shouldn't have stayed."

He shrugged, "I shouldn't have, but I did. Now come on, we have a lot to talk about and this isn't the place."

[Marlin]

Zenith
Jump Ship Caste System
New Caledonia
New Dominion
01 January 3080

A small JumpShip winked into existence in the system that now belonged to the New Dominion, an amalgam of Ghost Bears, Snow Ravens and Rasalhaagians once conquered. Only one Dropship, perhaps the olde Lion Class, could be seen.

"Clan Snow Raven, New Dominion, this is Jump Ship Caste System, I am Star Captain Fredrick. Requesting landing coordinates for the ilChi of Clan Ice Hellion to Clan Snow Raven. We come in peace. Star Captain Fredrick out."

The hail was continued several times.

[Dave Baughman]

01 January 3080

Several WarShips scanned the new arrival before a response arrived from the system's main planet.

"Caste System, this is New Caledonia space traffic control. We are transmitting an entry vector for your DropShip. Please do not deviate from your assigned flight path."

[Marlin]

01 January 3080

"New Caledonia Space Traffic control, I confirm the entry vector for the Dropship "Friendly Approach" It will not deviate from the flight path. Caste System out. We will jump away as soon as we have recharged."

The Dropship then unlocked and moved to that planet that had been in possession of its passenger's Clan years before. But just for a short time.

Not much happened inbetween except the usual traffic around this important system.

[Fatebringer]

St. Joseph's Spaceport
New Caledonia, Raven Protectorate
New Dominion Territory
15 January 3080

After watching the shuttle touch down on the tarmac, a pair of Tyr infantry support tank stood waiting with an honor guard outside. Much shorter then her Elemental counterparts stook a woman who'se features resembled strongly those of her predecessors. While not the stongest of her line, her taught muscles promised reflexes as swift as any that emerged from a Creche. The Ex-Wolf warrior rose quickly thru the ranks and defied the Raven precept that bondmen never rose above the rank of Star Colonel within the clan. But, she was a Kerensky after all. The new Raven saKhan looked on at the aging ex-Khan of the Ice Hellions and had to stop herself from keeping her usual predatary stare. A habit developed over her lifetime. This was a diplomatic envoy, not someone to be challenged.

Nakita Kerensky showed the Ice Hellion ilChi the respect of her rank but looked quite restless at the duties of the protectorate governer. "Greetings ilChi Raina Montose and welcome to New Caledonia."

[Marlin]

The Elemental woman tried a smile but as she knew it would not help her features. Age and the implants did that to an already unremarkable (or worse) face.

"I thank you, saKhan Nakita Kerensky and I hope that my duty here will help to bring our two Clans closer over time. Another point of hope is to learn from you and in a way from the Ghost Bears to integrate the native people into the Clan. Although I specifically am ilChi for your Clan, I am empowered to become ilChi for the whole Dominion if I feel the time is right."

[Fatebringer]

"Your affairs are yours, but should you require it, travel within the New Dominion is easily done." Nakita walked with Raina into the troop carrier. There was plenty of room for the Raina to enter without ducking. After all it was made as a transport for her phenotype. No modifications had been made, the doors hissed closed and the hover lifted off of the sparse combat vehicle. Although the inside had been cleaned up for this ride, certain earmarks still remained that only another Elemental used to living out of a combat transport. Bags were stowed away and strapped down, pictures hung in inconspicuous places, and the smell of a meal recently eaten still hung in the air meaning that the trash hadn't been taken out. It was still nothing compared to the clear view of riding on the outside of a battlemech into combat. "I have been here many times now ilchi. This planet is a prize worth holding onto. I am certain you have been here before quiaff? Before we officially took over and your Clan recieved North Gate stattion?"

[Marlin]

"Affirmative, I have been here shortly, before your, our.. deal. I understood why Amy Lynn had made it her Capital. I agreed to the deal because of that importance to you. It was some kind of approach to you, even if we got something out of it, you cannot deny that giving Verthandi and New Caledonia away is nothing any Clan would want. I hope it worked." She smirked a bit.

"Is this one of your Tyrs?"

[Fatebringer]

Nakita had grinned at the though of how politics played out in the Clan. People danced around the subject to avoid having to tell the truth. In her mind she wanted to say "We got New Caledonia because you know you could not keep it from us!" but Nakita has learned much. Still she was almost horrified that the old one would get her jibs in by insinuating she was a tanker. "Neg ilChi. This is just a way to get around. They are swifter then my Dire Wolf. We need not have taken military conveyance, but while we fight with honor, there are those that have not the capacity to face us in trial or open combat. It is for this reason that we take... precautions."

The old Fire Mandril complex had several renavations since Raina had last been to New Caledonia, but very few new constructions. Upon exiting the vehicle it became obvious of one change at least. The howl of the Mandril Totem animal was replaced with the squacks of crows. Strange feeders were placed around to acomidate the avids, but these were not Snow Ravens. They were smaller and Raina could see that the feeders were comprised of complex devices that the birds had to navigate to eat. Obviously these New Caledonian crows had an intellect that was quite advanced.

Nakita walked beside Raina towards the complex and when they reached the top of the stairs, she turned around. The setting sun over the bay reflected harshly off the water, but there was no stopping the local fauna from keeping a prize part in the scene. A warm breeze from the east rustled the trees. "It is not an unpleasant place for your to work from ilChi. If I do not die in battle, I may end up here one day myself." She whirled on the tall woman with finess in her step, the oblong diamond shape of the saKhan glinting off her shoulder. "But that is some time off for me. Enjoy your stay here. There will be a personal shuttle for you and a residence established for your entourage."

[JediBear]

Warrior's Hall, Clan Ghost Bear Administrative Mall
Silverdale City, Alshain
07 September, 3090

She was getting too old for this, saKhan Athena Kabrinski reflected as a devastating right hook from a much younger Warrior sent her reeling across the floor of the Warrior Hall antechamber. She had insisted on that. Despite what some of the younger crowd thought, the Warrior's Hall was a place for talking. Warriors could grow as heated as they liked while they exchanged ideas -- and often insults -- in that Hall, but to trade blows in there dishonored not only the Hall but their traditions.

It was bad enough that he'd had the temerity to challenge her in there. But then the young were bold -- and foolish, she reflected, crushing his knee with a vicious side-kick, and there were few younger Warriors in the Touman, yet alone among the Bloodnamed, than nineteen year old Hiyazaki Vong. That made him a Ristar. Derived from "Rising Star," the term referred to anyone advanced beyond their years, and signaled respect in most Clans. In Clan Ghost Bear, the term carried an edge of wry derision, for those advanced beyond their years were often advanced beyond their abilities.

Hiyazaki was a very good young Warrior, and Athena recognized her own meteoritic rise in his early ascension. She had been only nineteen herself when she claimed her genemother's bloodname. Of course, she had not then gone on to challenge the sitting saKhan on the very floor of the Warrior's Hall.

Today was her 48th birthday, and while the years had begun to slow her down -- she was no longer as quick on her feet as she had once been, and recovering from a brawl like this one now took weeks where it had once been a matter of days, and old war wounds never quite healed right, even with the best that Clan trauma medicine could provide. But the years and the scars had given her experience that more that made up for it. He'd never seen the opening she used to take him down.

"I yield!" he managed through tears he could not hold back. Knee injuries brought a pain like no other. She bowed to her erstwhile opponent, and turned to the Giant, Loremaster Paul Vishio, as he acknowledged her win.

"saKhan Athena Kabrinski stands vindicated. Are there any others to challenge her word?"

And it was stupid too. This still happened on a yearly basis, some fool challenging her not over something she was doing today, not over some perceived slight or genuine insult but because of something an elder had told them or something they thought they read in a history book.

Yes, she was in history books -- one of them written by that selfsame Giant, which made him a scholar and her a fossil, despite the two decades he had on her. And they all had their opinions, those scholars. Some thought she had been too soft with the Terrans, too compromising with the Grand Council. Or perhaps she was an advocate of genocide in their minds, or had been too harsh with the Freeminders when they sought to bring down the Warrior Caste, or the Wolves when they turned on the Grand Council, as a poorly-trained mutt or a poorly-made blade turns on its owner. Never mind that the Dominion still stood. Never mind that she had done no more than she had to do.

History books. Yes, she was getting far too old for this.

[Dave Baughman]

Hand of Tyr Safehouse
Zh'gak City, Planet Skokie
The New Dominion
28 December 3090

"This," said John Ebon as he pointed to a red circle on the map, "is where we need things to heat up. As you can see, the narrow street directly behind this area will form a bottleneck and prevent the crowd from dispersing; there will be blood on the street - a lot of blood."

Hervor crossed her legs while posing in sardonic tone, "I don't mean to be the wet blanket here, but isn't this set-up going to ensure that most of the blood on the street belongs to our own people? I thought your outfit was going to be taking the fight to the Castes and the Reds, not rolling Blood folk under the bus."

Ebon scowled, "Well, if you don't like the way we operate, maybe you have a better idea? Perhaps we should give them hugs and bouquets of flowers instead?"

"That's enough," Dag Iversen said with finality, "Ajda is only questioning the butchet's bill, not the use of direct action. I can answer the question though, in case any of the rest of you have doubts: this plan, and let me add that I have already approved this plan, will result in many deaths and injuries on our side, but it will be at the hands of the enemy, and it will be all over the chatterweb before the Castes can try to sweep it under the rug."

"Make no mistake, any of you," he looked at the half-dozen operatives sharing the safehouse, "our goal here is to bring to light the plight of the Blood folk here in the Dominion. The more of our kinfolk who are martyred next week, the more likely we will get a reaction from the government. In fact, if we get a real massacre on our hands, we might even succeed in drawing international pressure against the Dominion to stop denying us our rights. That's what this is about, people. This is not a struggle to save individual lives, it is a struggle to save our entire race from slavery."

John Ebon waited a moment more to see if his leader had finished before he resumed his briefing, "Alright, now that that's settled," he said with just a little bit of a pointed look at Hervor, "here is how we are going to get things rolling. Alpha team will be Daniel, Peter, and Ajda..."



Two days earlier

Hervor let off a little sigh of relief as the apartment door closed behind her. Despite the scene she had made earlier, there hadn't been any sign of police pursuit and as best as she could tell her contact had been just as adept as her at blending into the crowds of laborers and merchants milling about the streets of Zh'gak.

"Well now," said Iversen, "that was quite a performance you put on in the cafe. Something tells me it's time for you to dispose of that fake ID card."

"A real shame," Hervor said with a shrug, "I rather liked being Yngvild Frank."

Iversen chuckled dryly, "Keeping an alias for long isn't luxury we get in our line of work, Yngvild... or should I say Ajda? Ajda Larsen?" he said blithely as he held up a noteputer carrying the image of a wanted posted with Hervor's face on it.

Before Hervor could comment, Iversen looked down and narrated from the screen "Ajda Larsen, wanted by the Security Police on Alshain, Satalice, and Grumium for crimes against the State, attempted murder, and violation of the Communications Freedom Law. I'm personally curious how the third one manages to get equal billing with the other two."

Hervor-cum-Ajda grinned, "The bomb was supposed to blow up the dish on an RHP station, but my cell had a mole and things got complicated."

"I can imagine," Iversen said, "but that raises an important point. I hope you don't have anything against polygraph machines."

"As a matter of fact..." she trailed off with a suggestive smile.

"Oh, don't worry," Iversen chuckled, "its not like I'm going to hold a gun to your head about it."

The slide clicked back as Hervor caught sight of motion in her peripheral vision.

"That's John's job."