Brave Galaxy is set in a world loosely based on Hiro Mashima’s Fairy Tail and Eden’s Zero. It is a PG-13 or so rated space fantasy RP, and uses a combination of character statistics, which can be acquired via roleplaying and events, and creative freedom to help direct players’ characters. While there is a main storyline, which can be found in the events section, characters are free to interact with others and their environment however they see fit.
Explore the galaxy. Overcome the obstacles in your path. Shape the future of humanity.
For an auspicious day, it was blatantly obvious that formal was not in Danylo's lexicon.
Rarely had it been that he had been invited to an event as stratified and ostentatious as this gala; even on Chorus when he had been an intern, Assemblyman Weisz had himself favored hosting his meetings and platforms from a less entrenched location, preferring the hubbub of Elyakim's various plazas and the occasional fast food joint to such a formal occasion. Too stuffy, too disingenuous, always filled with ass-kissers and snakes, had been how the man had described these events at some point in the indeterminable past. And he certainly wasn't wrong.
Prestige and social sensitivity reigned supreme here. Every little action a minor slight, every breach of proper etiquette a disgrace. Danylo had cleaned up after himself quite nicely for once in an evening dress of starched shirt with winged collar and onyx bow tie––gone was the perpetual 5 o'clock shadow and unkempt mop of black hair, and yet it was clear from a glance that he was still very much unused to the gala at all, in all of its sheer opulence.
The closest thing to an Independence Gala in Pergrande were the victory parades in Lyudinagorod Square, and even that was nothing more than pomp and circumstance while the masses simply looked on. There were wealthy chairmen and company men on Chorus who spent their wealth on lavish banquets and gatherings, replete with gilded anything and everything. But even those seemed like children's parties in comparison to the sheer scale of how the Independence Gala had been planned out. Thousands of onlookers and invitees arrived to the sight of glass spires and meticulously maintained verdant flora, ferried by a web of monorails to the aptly named President's Citadel. Though, considering the sheer size of the monolithic complex, one could be forgiven for referring to it as a palace instead.
There was a similar structure in Lyudinagorod too. The Grand Presidium was what they referred it to, and above the rest of the city did it stand, tall, imposing, a spire of concrete, brick, stucco and glass that shot into the very heavens. Even then did it pale in comparison to the Fioran Citadel; a crude mimicry of beauty as compared to a work of art. A wry individual could have exclaimed that this was truly the triumph of the Federation and their ways over their bitter rival, and Danylo could have believed it.
And the food! Each and every room modeled after the sectors of Fiore had their own regional delicacies, served by an ever attentive army of caterers. Poinsettian dry-aged beef with a balsamic reduction, sweet potato dumplings with butter and sage sourced from Dandelion out of all places, Mizhou-style braised heritage pork belly with preserved mustard greens. Each and every glistening morsel of the Federation lay before Danylo's very eyes, and in that instant was he consumed in the here and now.
It would be an utter shame if all of this food went to waste, after all.
Thus did the man attempt to satiate his gluttonous desires, piling dish after dish onto his plate like a Smorgasbord. The flavors of Hargeon did he sample in a warm trout and caviar risotto, the bold and complex kick of Trillium in a deep-dish meat pie with fig preserves. It was a crying shame that he hadn't brought plastic containers with him to take back home, it was just too good! He hadn't eaten this well since he arrived in Chorus. He hadn't eaten this well since he met Hope.
Hope. A concept, a name that opened up an entire can of worms on its own. A belief that Danylo still stubbornly clung to, even though a part of him knew that it could never be again. She'd left him. And sooner or later it would leave him. Was it bad that he still couldn't move on? Was it bad that he still hoped, that something could have happened again between them. That they could mend the past? That they coul–
From within the bosom of Dan's pocket did his communicator vibrate violently. Three times in quick succession, a pattern distinct to a certain individual. Which probably meant...
Oh god, Arys. What's happened this time?
Scarfing the remnants of his food down his gullet did lanky digits whip out his cellular device. With a brisk pace did he walk down the hallway, into the lavatory, before answering the call.
"There'd better be a good reason for this," Dan sighed.
"Dessert's coming out in 5 minutes and I want my Coreopsis-style egg tarts."
Nothing but static.
"Arys? Are you fucking with me again? I swear, if this ends up like the falafel stand..."
(ehehehe I ended up spazzing out, apologies fellas)
Post by Reya Starlyght on Apr 6, 2019 17:39:37 GMT
"She, but yes, it was. The gala happens every year, but it's usually only politicians and the like that are invited. I suppose the thousandth anniversary might be a valid reason to break the rules," Eris replied, smiling. "Hey, you two have fun talking, I'm going to check out the refreshments table over there." She let go of Leo's hand, smacking him on the back in a playful gesture in which he shook his head. ”Don’t bore the man too much.”
”Yeah, yeah. I won’t,” he said, watching her disappear into the crowd though he could still differentiate her presence amidst the sea of others. Sliding his hands into the pockets of his dress pants, Leo turned his attention back to Blitz in time to catch what he was saying. The politics of the time before catastrophe, yes, it was a highly studied subject within the academic community. Would the Blight have come to pass, had another monarch taken power? The world would never truly know, though two divisive, and pretty obvious, opinions prevailed. ”Yes, madness indeed. There were plenty of warning signs that, in retrospect, should have told the population Stefan would have not been the best king.” He, of course, said such despite having been in a dark guild for a very brief, very unmemorable period of time, soon after Stefan had been elected in fact. Nothing good had come from it, though Leo certainly wasn’t all that against illegal organizations, simply the sense of community all tight-knit things garnered was not to his liking. Distance, that was the cure for time, and he preferred to be bound by people rather than values anyway.
”Ah, I see, so you weren’t just thrown through a warp storm. That’s fascinating, the vast majority of people that were put into stasis woke up sometime around 300 UC. Perhaps that might have something to do with your loss,” Leo theorized, looking to the upper left corner of his vision for a moment, trying to recall a hopelessly lodged piece of information. His eyes then fell back onto Blitz. "Well, in any case, I certainly can. Was your last memory of the Boscan War, the Blight, or something earlier? It wouldn't be of much use for me to educate you about something you actually lived through and remember, after all." He was assuming the man was Fioran, well Fiorean, to be more exact, given his fluency, accent, and apparent magical abilities. Of course, the latter could be found in most nations, but certainly the Federation had by far the largest population of magically inclined individuals, no matter what their skill might be.
Xena Hunt has been visiting Independence Day festivals since she was a kid, and also has been invited on a personal level, to the Gala several times over the course of the decades. But this year was a new thing... this year, many invitations where also sent out randomly to rich an poor alike. She knew that the poor people would only attend for the food and drinks, or at least most of the poorer people. she did not have too big of a problem with that, she just despised such people.
On the early afternoon Independence day, after she visited another large festivals, where her brewery was also present, she hurried back to her ship and boarded it. She had an elegant and very nice bark blue dress pre prepared by her a few days ago. She changed from her elegant clothing to the even more elegant but not fancy dress. She also picked out a fairly simple but still attractive and not so fancy necklace and carefully put it on. She then took off and a few minits later, set the course for the only moon of Corcus. She then inniitialised the hyperspace jump. with the estimated time of arrival being a half an hour.
During that half an hour she checked to see if her dress was totally proper or not and then when back to sit on the pilot seat. She had an idea to actually end her criminal syndicate and she knew that even the leaders of the most powerful crime empires, run out of luck in the very end... it was only a matter of time. She knew that at this point she would likely easily live for another few centuries naturally... unless she dies during a hunt or something.
Her thoughts where interrupted by a louder beeping sound and a female AI speaking. "Arriving at destination". She looked around, just in time to see the very end of the hyperspace jump and infront of her, the large moon that the Palace was located on. She started a steep decent and a few minits later, she was landing gently on one of the massive parking pads. Before leaving her ship she strapped on a simple light blue colored belt, that also had her purse attached to, and also too her invitation into her hand and then esited her ship. Once outside, she closed and sealed her ship and started walking to the entrance of the large palace witch was luckily only a few minits walk away.
Once she arrived at the main entrance, she had to get in the short line waiting at the security check. She however got a few nastly or even head a few nasty comments directed at her. She shook her head. Why oh why people still gross out from her appearance. Once she was checked for no weapons, she continued to make her way towards the action, soon arriving into one of the massive rooms. Once there, she was sure to meet at least a few popular people or hopefully a few guests of her resort.
Of the many things Blitz was learning in the course of this conversation, the gender of the President was one of them, though his new acquaintance didn't seem to disagree with Blitz's remark on the estate being a bit under-used. "I suppose it does merit something to denote the occasion, though I have to admit, the first time it occurred was far more lively an event. Blight and all that." Blitz said, finishing off his drink before crushing the plastic cup in his hand and tossing it into the nearby wastebasket at the end of the table. "While there are no doubt some memories I've forgotten that are best left that way, I wouldn't mind being able to recall seeing Stefan tossed on his royal backside."
The young fellow did seem to take interest in Blitz's mention of Stefan's brother, eliciting a sigh of sorts from Blitz, but one of indecisiveness. "Well....it's a bit more complicated than that. Stefan certainly seems like the worst pick of the lot in hindsight - and likely was the one who had the most potential for problems, given his campaign ideas - but the other two candidates weren't perfect, either. Stefan's older brother, Herad, wanted to increase trade and crack down on dark guilds, but he also wanted to dissolve the knights and make peace with Bosco, which people weren't keen on after the initial invasion. Meanwhile, his little sister, Franceska, wanted to advanced our magi-tech capabilities and force a trade embargo on Bosco as a non-aggressive payback for the invasion, but also wanted to force a draft of 'neutral' mages, which would have impeded the freedom of anyone with magic that wasn't already affiliated with a Light guild at the time. None of them were perfect, but we admittedly got the short end of the stick on that one."
The blonde man also had his theories on Blitz's condition, and mentioned what had occurred with most of the others. "Ah, so everyone else showed up about 700 years ago and started building. No wonder some of the designs seemed faintly familiar on the way here - built on the artistic sensibilities of the descendants who made the trip in the first place. I'm guessing the warp storm did nab me out of space, but took longer to spit me back out compared to the masses. Not sure if I should be flattered or resentful for that. I missed out on a hell of a lot, but there are certainly some interesting things to see now. I guess the extra 700 years spent free-floating did a number on my memories and magic alike."
While Blitz was trying to learn more of the 'future' - or 'present', as he had to now think of it - his companion was more curious about what memories remained. Blitz thought back, sifting through what little he could of the fog in his head. "Last thing I can recall with absolutely clarity is the Boscan War, where Fiore took up arms and invaded on their own after the Memorial incident. It gets spotty after that. I vaguely recall the Blight happening, and something about the Exodus, so I suppose I was around for it, but I can't recall anything more than that." Blitz said, looking thoughtful as he flipped through his own memories.
Against the crowd of revelers did a single man weave, harried, out of breath, approaching the entrance from which he came. The partygoers had arrived in full force and it showed; past the thin grey line of security guards were litanies upon litanies of individuals, pouring in from all over Fiore and beyond. A small fleet of trams hastily deposited passenger after passenger, while starships and vessels dotted the skies above. It was a grand sight, truly awe-inspiring given even the occasion, but Dan couldn't have cared less.
Arystanbek Wideborn had been Danylo's closest comrade from the Fleet Academy; a Fioran of Pergrandian descent with an eye for the inconceivable and a decisiveness that straddled the fine line between plucky and suicidal. At 6'5" and built like a tank, he exuded a presence all his own. Quick-tongued, with even quicker reflexes to boot, he had taken to fighting from behind the cockpit of a fighter rather than upon the bridge of a ship. And the array of accomplishments under his belt spoke for themselves: 9 skirmishes on the frontier in a distinctive orange fighter, with a grand total of 0 losses. A nomination for the Fioran Medal of Honor for actions performed under extreme duress. There was even rumor of him being scouted a prospective member for the Fioran Knights for his fortitude in combat, his dauntless demeanor and unquenchable zeal.
He also certainly wasn't hard to miss either.
Sure enough, there he was, just behind the line of security personnel, dressed in garments that were anything but formal or fitting for a gala: a full uniform did he don, but neither was it the formal dress that the Fioran military issued to their soldiers, nor the smart and crisp service uniforms worn in garrison. The man stood out like a sore thumb in his hideous but practical jumpsuit and flight jacket, and–standing next to another familiar figure–did he wave, an ear-splitting grin on his visage.
"Took you long enough, Lieutenant Paper-pusher."
"I was waiting for you, but the egg tarts commanded my presence, Lieutenant Late-For-Work."
"Fair, fair."
A slap on the back rocked Danylo back and forth, and Arys's hearty chortle filled the room. A couple of onlookers glared daggers at the man and his outlandish behavior, but Wideborn paid them no heed. His sea green eyes scrutinized the elaborate decor of the palace, the sculptures and paintings strategically arranged to complement the room in which they were in, and the wry smirk on his ruddy, square face petered out just a little. A faint murmur escaped from the corner of his mouth, and as the Chorusean glanced inquisitively did he witness what his burlier partner had found himself entranced by.
"The Fioran Knights, huh."
There it was, a mural dedicated to the Great War of time immemorial. Heroic figures shrouded in silver and brandishing steel fought valiantly against swirls of purple and formless darkness. Radiant. Dauntless. A vanguard for hope. Within Fiore, they were the stuff of legend, like the Cosmomarines of Pergrande: the kind of people that children proclaimed they would grow up to be. The kind of person that Dan's friend hoped he'd become.
"My old man used to say that my ancestor was a knight," Arystedes remarked wistfully, and that booming voice that had been larger than life petered out to a whisper.
"He died protecting the last colony ships as they left. Like in this mural."
Silence reigned for a scant few moments, as the two stood back and observed the wall. They were ignorant of the murmurs, the whispers of shock and disgust that arose from behind them. And they were certainly not aware of the unusually tall, brown-haired, winged and tailed individual several paces behind them.
"That knight over at the far left looks like you. Y'see that messy hair?"
Xena was walking threght the massive room looking and taking in the many nice and fancy dresses and all the people especially the females but there where also a few very charming looking males too. She however also looked at the very elegant and attractive tables of food and drinks. She thought for a second, to get a wine or not, but decided against it at such an early time. It was then when she remembered that she needed to be back at the resort a little before the Rolling Tones performed. This thought gave her a little smirk but also would only have just a few short hours to enjoy the local event.
She was the large mural painted on the wall across the massive room, and was instinctively drawn to it. She was greeted by a VIP guest and stopped for a few seconds to also greet the middle aged female dressed in a silver colored, dress with a beige colored elegant jacket. It made Xena realize that she should have worn a jacket of sort too, as right now, her arms and feet where exposed, making her somewhat uneasy for a long second. She however shot the thought of covering and hiding her unusual features away. For one this, she simply was totally unable to hide her unique appearance, secondly. THIS was what she looked like. End of story, if anybody had any problems with that, they would go look the other ways for all Xena cared.
In a few seconds, the other female wished Xena a happy Independence Day and let her go. She finally reached the large mural that was on the wall, and just stared at it for a few long seconds, hardly realizing that there where to other fairly tall people just a little ahead of her. She also hardly heard a few pretty nasty comments aimed at her. After starting at the mural for a few long seconds,she spoke to the two people that where there. "Freedom is the birthright of all sentient beings. " Xena said, with her tail unintentionally swaying and sometimes twitching slightly.
"Freedom is the birthright of all sentient beings."
Liberty, Sovereignty, Autonomy, Dignity. Such was the creed of the Alliance of Unified Planets, and as the enforcement arm of the Alliance did they know well their role in preserving the sanctity of natural and legal rights. Yet for Danylo, it was intriguing for such a bold statement to be made: Within the Union of Pergrande, the sanctity of the state mattered above all else; the freedom of the proletariat hinged on absolute loyalty to the Party. But then again, this wasn't the Union, rife with its secret police and political officers. And for as much as Pergrande was quick to chastise the Federation of Fioran States as debased and unenlightened, free thought, speech, press, was an integral part of society here. Freedom rarely if ever comes without a cost, however; perhaps this was demonstrated by those knights in the mural.
"And yet freedom can't be achieved without sacrifice," Dan remarked simply. His voice had the air of someone far jaded beyond his appearance, tired, worn. But the annals of history were often built on the backs of the unsung; anything and everything came at a price. The Great War had pitted nation upon nation in one of the bloodiest conflicts of Earthland, and the Alliance of Unified Planets was only formed in the wake of a greater threat: one that had driven them on their exodus. The founding of modern Chorus as an economic powerhouse came at the cost of the government's autonomy: most anyone knew that it was the mega corporations like Shoujiki Jeongjeol or the Chrysanthemum Consortium that manipulated the Legislative Assembly.
There he was, being cynical again.
"The Vanguard put their lives on the line to ensure that the last colony ships could depart Earthland safely. Against overwhelming odds did they fend their opponents off, down to the last man."
According to Fiore regarding the Exodus, that had been the case. But just as the mural glorified and depicted these stalwart bulwarks against the dark, so too did it fail to recognize the countless others that had pooled together their manpower, the ragtag coalition of nations that banded together in the darkest hour, that bitter fight for survival. An azure-haired commander wielded a great axe against a shapeless horror. A scruffy looking knight unloaded the contents of his carbine into a writhing mass. A blonde, uniformed woman crouched, the stock of her rifle pressed on her cheek. But where were the Boscans, the Pergrandians, the Isbergians, everyone else? For every single hero, there are countless that are unsung.
The lieutenant turned to face the individual whom had murmured those very words behind him, and found himself staring upward at a monolithic individual whose sheer height seemed almost impossible for the extent of human growth. Even Arystedes, tall and built as he was, strained his neck to acknowledge the woman. Not a human, no; the tail and the wings made certain that she wasn't quite the case, and yet it seemed near impossible that she could have been Stellan either.
"Well," Dan breathed, as he sized the woman up and down.
Post by Reya Starlyght on Apr 13, 2019 4:05:59 GMT
He couldn't stop a laugh and smile at Blitz's comment about Stefan's demise, though beneath it was a more malignant recollection, something he didn't dare mention no matter how much a part of him wanted to re-envision it in all the gory details. It was not the time, place, or even person to speak of such events, not from his own account at least. First person never did him any good, at least not from a historical perspective. He exhaled a little, even as Blitz explained some politics he knew quite well, although certainly at the time of the election itself Leo hadn't cared about it in the slightest. Then again, he couldn't have had any idea that the fate of the whole damn world would be dependent on a single conspiracy. The damage had been done, however, the only thing that could be done now was to ensure no one ever got the idea to return to Earthland.
People who actually recalled the planet, well they were prone to such thoughts. Leo didn't really understand it, in all honesty, going back to that hellscape was one of the last things he ever wanted to do. Not the last, but certainly up there. Nonetheless, he simply nodded at Blitz's musings, only truly replying by the time he ended. "Yes, the second Boscan War. That's a bit of dead giveaway that you're from Earthland, I must admit, nowadays the conflict is referred to as the Great War. A fitting label, for the failure of Task Force Hyacinth to prevent the mad Colonel Wesker from launching missiles loaded with Blight across the continent, and the ensuing panic that swept every nation into it." Ah, the task force. The group's idiocy had earned it just a small plaque on the mural displayed somewhere in the room that he had practically memorized long ago, and of course he could say such because he had been a member of it. The lack of acknowledgement was better for him, in the long run, the less things with his name on on it, the better.
"Let's see... Stella, Bellum, Midi, Seven, Sin, Enca, Caelum, and Joya allied with Fiore; Isberg went through a civil war and split in two; Desertio, Pergrande, and Minstrel sided with Bosco. It didn't last long though, every country was too busy trying to fight off the Blight, unsuccessfully of course. Within fifteen years, Earthland was abandoned, and for the next three hundred governments were rearranged, technologies advanced, and generations lived upon the colony ships, never to see their destination. We're the lucky ones, you could say," he continued, counting on his fingers as he named off the various countries.
"Now, of course, that's it grossly simplified, but to be fair the apocalypse really was what was on most people's minds during that time, or at least so the records indicate. And around a year or so after catastrophe struck was when Stefan was ousted, on the fifth of March, 1 UC. They felt it about time for a change in the calendar, I suppose." The corner of his lip turned upwards at that, in some kind of amusing wistfulness, probably easily mistaken by others as something else.
Xena Looked somewhat downwards at the otherwise taller person, and tilted her head slightly smiling shyly. She grew a little red from embarresment as she understood that the other person was staring at her. "Hello there... like to meet another rather tall person... my name is Xena Hunt. " She friendly extended her hand, hoping that her black and transformed lower arm and hand would not frighten the other person too much. If the other person would accept the shake, she would ease up, if not she would forget she handshake. She then asked him. " Is this your first time at the Independence Gala? " Xena asked looking at the other person.
She felt her tail unintentionally jerk gently. On occasion, her tail uncontrollably jerked of twitched even when she was calm, and it really embarresed her sometimes. She was always worried that she would unintentionally hit somebody or something, even after well over a century of being very aware of her insect-like body. She shook her thought away and looked at the large mural. " Such a long time has passed... and we have achieved so much since the Great War, but most people forget the unsung heroes of the war... many of them also doing equally dangerous and important missions as the known heroes like on the mural " Xena said and pointing to the wall.
While the slight smile on the boy's face indicated that he had no more fondness for Stefan or what he'd wrought than Blitz himself did, though it was difficult to speculate further on that without knowing the boy's history back on Earthland.
He did point out some useful information, however - Blitz had been inadvertently revealing that he was familiar with events few knew about outside the original Exodus group. "Ah, I didn't realize that it had come to have another name over the years," Blitz mused, "Though it does make a certain kind of sense. A lot of stuff unearthed from previous cultures tends to have been called something different by the original culture than whatever label we give it."
His comment on it DID trigger a bit of a flashback for Blitz, though. "Oh, that's right! Those accursed missiles were used to spread it....geez, amazing that much time adrift managed to zap that from my memory banks, even temporarily." he said, rubbing the side of his head in thought. "Though even without a clear memory of it, I can tell that the Task Force was a bad idea, because a 'Task Force' itself doesn't inspire much confidence, because of how it's used. When higher-ups have a big problem, and are getting pressure to deal with it and don't know how, it turns out that if you assign a group of people to it and call it a 'Task Force', then it sounds like you did something about it." Blitz said with a slight scoff.
The young blonde man explained how the countries had banded together (or taken sides, as it were), and how the governments had shifted afterward. "Well, lucky in that we didn't have to sort through a patchwork of governments. Shifts in power like that, especially rapid ones, don't tend to happen smoothly. Just look at what happened with Stefan. Though I suppose he got a holiday and a calendar influenced by him, so you can't say he didn't have any lasting presence, I suppose."
