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| Tweet Topic Started: Dec 22 2007, 11:27 PM (260 Views) | |
| Miho Armitage | Dec 22 2007, 11:27 PM Post #1 |
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Please, strap yourselves in for an essay...
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Miho Armitage found that the appointed time had come, and thus she sdecided to pause her writing. Her thirty fingers that had been flowing over the keyboard in a fluid, alien fashion closed up into ten, and she turned off the console in her office. She looked at her hand momentairly. The prosthetic could hammer a dent into the wall next to her but could split apart so that she could type faster. Wonderful technology. She stopped thinking about it before opening the door and descending the turbolift. The Voltaire, fifteen seconds away from the nearest system by FTL jump, kept her engines hot just in case the planet was assaulted or the Voltaire was found. No use taking any chances. And besides, Nadeshi was a very protected world, even after the Kort Tragedy. The turbolift door opened and she returned the salute of two maroon-wearing soldiers. Special Forces, she thought as she walked on. She had a very close kinship with the Special Forces -- To be in the NSDF's Special Forces, you required a completly prosthetisized body. However, how close she and they actually came she did not mull on, as there was work to do. A door opened for her, and she strode into a dark room with a table at its centre. She looked at it for a moment, and then a hologram shot up... then another and another. Representing many key figures in the New Republic Alliance Military government. She waited for a moment... |
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| Hadrius Cul | Dec 24 2007, 06:00 AM Post #2 |
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Storyteller
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Ryan collected his thoughts. No easy task, for a man who's mind was always working on at least a dozen issues at a time. Arbra. Nadeshi. Generis. The places where the civil war had begun. Each represented a loss, of the people in charge, of being capable of holding things together. His mind wandered across the names of the people he'd soon be addressing. Admiral Armitage. His one time superior officer. Commander of the Nadeshi Fleet. General Vren. Commander of the Elite Army Rangers. Zann Riegal. Grand Master of the Jedi Order. Commander Thorne. The man who's words had first proclaimed the Alliance. Captain Reiken. His replacement as Skull Squadron commander. A few others, leaders of pieces of pocket resistance, would be represented. His mother might even make an appearance. Chancellor Matnokki likely would. This would be the first such meeting of the self proclaimed Alliance of Free Worlds. The war was in it's third month..... And now, a new threat was looming. The Black Banner was flying on more than one world. To some, his identity had been kept a secret. Ryan Hunter, however, knew well his identity. Former Jedi Master, Hadrius Cul. He keyed on the holoprojecter, as he opened a link to the designated frequency. |
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| Atilla Vren | Dec 27 2007, 02:01 AM Post #3 |
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Advanced Member
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Atilla entered the room running over in his head things that he may have to discuss in the meeting. Atilla nodded to Admiral Hunter, Admiral Armitage, and the rest of those assembled. He then sat down in his seat calmly, not betraying the inner turmoil within himself that he could not be with his Rangers in the standoff against Wolfe. If Wolfe had known Atilla was not there he would surely attack. That attack could end in disaster for the Alliance. Atilla looked towards the door each time someone new entered as he patiently waited for the meeting to begin. |
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| Miho Armitage | Jan 1 2008, 07:11 AM Post #4 |
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Please, strap yourselves in for an essay...
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The ghostly image of Admiral Armitage flickered to life in the room, as she was unable to attend the meeting in person. She was definatly sure that the encryption would remain secure -- The New Republic Alliance had been supplied several encryption keys from the Principality, for use for such an occasion as independance. Chancellor Matnokki, at what appeared the head of the the table, looked at the time. He waited for a moment, and then called for attention with two short, almost unaudible rings -- the same sort of tone that Mon Mothma had used while addressing the Alliance before the assault on Endor. His veins he felt pulse with anxiety with what he was about to say, and as he stood, releasing the marble pupils of his race entangled with light hazel irises, he began his opening. "Thank you all for your attendance," he began, his demeanor of command retained dspite his personal indecision, "and I would like to offer those who are here my official thanks for the rescue of myself but more importantly the lives of my family, who most certainly would be penalized unofficially should they have been left behind." His words betrayed themselves, however, as he had sped up his speech when referring to himself but slowing for his family. As he realized this, he knew his flaw would be slightly apparent, but he also hoped that the rest in the room would understand the familial love that had promoted his syntax. But the formalities were over as he continued, "However, today is not a time for me to offer thanks. Today we must discuss the what, when, where, and most importantly why we are fighting this war." He would soon pull out the shadow of doubt that had been over him, and soon release the pressure fueling his anxiety. First, though, he would surprise them. Someone bright would pick it up. "Could anyone tell me why we are fighting this war?" Armitage, the White-Uniform officer, stared ahead with her jaw clenched shut. Now was not the time for her to speak, now was time for someone else. She and he could be considerd too close via their specie, and she syntaxed after the Chancellor did, then there might be a seed of doubt planted. She saw his gaze flick over the room as his head moved left to right, looking for someone to speak. Their eyes met momentarily. Armitage displayed almost nothing, but across light-years, both understood. The Admiral had been looking out for him, ever since she had said the words at his election -- Ahen Mahulokuba. Let the Gods Bless You. But the instant faded as instants do. Their alliance compacted with the phrase, its only hold, was so far firm. Neither saw fit to do away with the other. |
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