sooner or later, god'll cut you down.

[thespaceopera]

Who: Everyone
Broadcast: Yes
Action: Lato'li's orbit and also planetside.
When: Forward dated to 11/15.

[The Interceptor Fleet moves into position, waiting for the last few shield generators to fall. And in the early hours of the 15th, they do. The shield dissolves with a blip as if it was never there, leaving the man-eaters as prone as their prey. The Interceptors send out a transmission-- an unholy mix of Cockney and Australian that graces every available communicator-- if they answer it.]

We’re firin’! Do yer worst, Vieziri! We’re gonna kick yer sorry arses so hard you’ll kiss the moons!

[Five Interceptor ships swoop out of the dark and unload their various weaponry onto the Vieziri warships. At the same time, people stranded on the planet below ready the anti-aircraft guns onto their makers. And of course there is the Fleet itself, battered and yet beautiful across the velvet sky, as they fire everything they have.

Now the Vieziri start moving. Though the big red ship can’t do much maneuvering, the rest of the Vieziri warships certainly can. They fire back at the Interceptors and whoever else fires at them, willing to defend their leader and lose their lives in the process.

Luckily, the Interceptors have their own daring ships, which may look familiar to those who were here for the raider attack. One is emblazoned with racing stripes and flames all along the hull, and it moves so fast it nearly enters hyperspace. It’s there and gone in a flash, weaving past the enemy in crazy thrillseeking loops. Still another Interceptor ship is painted red and orange with a gold plate near the front, which reads BAMF with no explanation. This one has guns aplenty and easily weathers any duel it gets into. The third Interceptor ship is beautiful gold and black, sleek as hell and engineered with sense; this one packs the most gadgets and formidable guns of all calibers, and appears to do the most damage. Trailing behind is a much smaller ship, so nondescript it almost doesn’t stand out at all-- that is, until it forms a barrier to absorb some oncoming fire and reflect it back at the Vieziri.

There’s one ship that’s missing, though-- the one that was blown up several months ago after the heist. In its place is a small black ship that runs invisible to radar, sweeping past with silent speed as it lets loose a barrage of photon missiles onto the Vieziri flagship.

Down below, the Vieziri come out in full force-- one last stand before the warlord falls, trying to finish their fell rituals. Some of them rush the encampments, some go for the cities. Near the restored comms tower, a cloaked figure with a plain white mask fights their way through the onslaught using a plasma blade and a laser rifle.

After an hours-long siege, the big warship finally takes too much fire and breaks apart, lighting up the sky with falling shards like stars. The biggest debris burns up in orbit, but little pieces still rain down. It signals the end as the Vieziri begin to retreat both on ground and in the air. The loss of their leadership leaves them scattered and panicked.

The Fleet has won the day, but as the sun rises again over the wreckage, there is still plenty of work to be done.]

[ooc: Feel free to assume the Interceptors are helping your ships! The gold and black ship can be hailed and will give responses, as she’s been the main point of contact during this plot. You can also run into Zhade, though tags will be slow for both accounting for RL things. Please mark Zhade or Interceptors in the header of your toplevel if you’d like NPC interaction.

Any questions should be asked on the plot post for phase two.]

Comments

[whatisright]

When mortals are born, their parents give them names. If their parents do not, then their fellows do. I was never born, I have no ancestors, and my kind rarely has cause to give each other names. Our virtues are usually enough to tell us apart.

The same is true as I wander the mortal world. You are unlikely to meet another spirit of justice you must address, so my virtue functions well enough as a name.

[rebuildyourruins]

[That, oddly enough, makes sense to Thor. He's communed with spirits himself, in an effort to understand troubling dreams. He hasn't encountered one in the flesh before though.]

Oh, I see. You're a spirit then. Are you bound to this realm by the acts of the Atroma?

[whatisright]

[Ah, yes, a mortal who knows what spirits are and doesn't start panicking about it. Good on you, mortal. Justice likes you already.]

That seems to be the case. I was pulled into the mortal world by accident before I was taken here. At the time I was forced into a corpse in order to exist, but Atroma has found a way to give me physical form without possessing anything.

[That's right, he's not actually a corpse. He doesn't even need to look like a corpse. He just decided to keep looking like a corpse because that's how people recognize him.]

[rebuildyourruins]

[It helps that he's hundreds of years older than most other mortals around. He's seen far more than most ever will. Thor cocks his head to the side at that, looking at Justice's appearance again.]

It isn't an appealing form. [Tact, who needs it?] But it's not the corpse you inhabited before?

[whatisright]

No, it is not an appealing form. [Who needs tact? Certainly no one who talks to Justice.] I no longer possess anything, especially not a corpse. I choose to appear this way because this is how my companions recognize me, and I did not know what other form to take without stealing someone else's appearance.

[rebuildyourruins]

But you could change it?

[whatisright]

Indeed. I have enough control over my appearance to change it.

[rebuildyourruins]

Well, then maybe someday you can make yourself look more alive.

[Wouldn't that be nice?]

[whatisright]

I can. I simply require assistance to create a face that belongs to no one else.

I do not wish to steal another person's appearance. [And making the current face look a little more alive would count as stealing a face in his mind.]