Christmas Art...

Here's a quick illustration of a Xoroth in it's Powered Armor. The Xoroth are a species that Atrius and the gang found in their many travels. After helping them come to terms with the Kraai, the Xoroth and Kraai both work together with Atrius and the group. Anyway, the Xoroth story will be told eventually, when I get to it in the Atrius story, so you'll just have to hold on. Or have Wes tell you all about it. I'm sure they wouldn't mind fighting the Kraai, don't you agree Shadowwire?

Rhaktar

The Rhaktar is an older generation Conar war-ship. By older I by no means mean geriatric -it is an extremely deadly war-ship that can hold its own against the best of them.

The S.C. employs more than one of these behemoths. In the many dozens of conflicts in which these formidable vessels have engaged the enemy in defense of Shadow Clan interests, only one has fallen to a foe, and it went down with such glorious-defiance as to be worthy of being born forth by golden chariots into the very halls of Valhalla!

It was during this conflict and with the loss of many brave patriots that we witnessed first-hand the arrival of a 'new' Conar ship upon the scene. I will give shadowire the honor of its telling, but as impossibly powerful as it may have been, its captain never counted on the well-kept secrets of the "SCS Marauder."

Some simple ship pics...

Atrius Preim's personal ship, a Gar-Na-Gona fighter, from the Gargonan fleet.




A police cruiser, not necessarily my ship or used by any of my characters, but what the hey!




The Smuggler, as it was known to those who, well, knew it. I just call it the cockpit of the millennium falcon with some big skis welded onto the bottom.


Anyway, those are just a few of the ships I've used and flown on. I really don't have any other info that I can divulge at this time, without killing folk, you know, the "I'll tell you but then I'll have to kill you" thing.

Chapter 2

(Here's chapter 2. Enjoy Pablo...)

The Major was quietly watching the road. He had two small squads stationed on either side of the bridge he was on, plus a third squad up on the abandoned building next to the roadway to provide backup if they needed it. He hoped they wouldn’t, but was grimly aware that they would. They always needed it no matter how well he planned things out. His thoughts were interrupted by the comm unit squawking in his ear. He thumbed the unit on. “What have you got for me?” He asked.
“Sir, we have a single contact approaching from the south, e.t.a. in 5 minutes.”
“Is he alone?” the Major asked. The voice on the other end was silent for a moment, “Clear on all sides, sir.” The Major turned and crawled to the south side of the bridge. He grabbed his rangefinders and peered down the road through a hole in the bridge’s concrete side. Roughly three miles south of his position, a single vehicle was coming up the roadway. If he hadn’t seen one before, he would have had a hard time spotting it amid the rubble and abandoned burnt out vehicles still clogging the roads of the dead and rotting city. It was slowly picking its way down the clogged highway, which was a good thing. The Demons didn’t know he was here, and that was always good.

He remembered the first time he saw one, standing in the middle of the town square. One of the ugliest things he’d ever seen, and one of the meanest. Those who survived the initial slaughter, simply called them Demons, and the name stuck. They certainly looked like a nightmare, standing over 8 feet tall, large ugly fangs protruding from their skeletal heads, the thick armor-like dreadlocks that covered the back of the head and neck, the brownish-green mottled skin, and the deep pitch black eyes. Yes, He thought, it’s a good thing they don’t know we’re here.

He thumbed on his comm unit again, “Okay men, you know the drill, into positions, let’s keep this clean and quick.” He thumbed off his comm unit. He still didn’t trust the things. Always wary of broken lines of communication, the Major had taught his men to use the communication units sparingly, and never when the enemy was around, because you never knew who could be listening.

He heard the soft hum of the engines as the tank-like vehicle came slowly into view. It was about a mile away when it came to a stop in the middle of the road. The tank (it was officially designated as a Skeleton Light Tank but the Major didn’t know that) extended a retractable satellite dish out of the top of its small turret. The Major was fairly certain that the vehicle was scanning for any radio traffic or comm unit chatter, and hopefully his men were following orders and not using the damned things when the enemy was in sight. The antenna slowly turned, and then retracted into the turret. The tank then started off again, still going at a relatively slow pace. The Major saw that his two squads were in position, and then he crawled over to the edge of the bridge and started to arm the rocket launcher that was laying there. He hunkered down behind the concrete barrier. He couldn’t afford to take a peak now, so he just had to wait.

The tank was about 100 yards from the bridge when they attacked. Two tongues of red hot flame shot from each side of the road as the squads simultaneously fired their rockets. They hammered into the sides of the tank with a large boom. The tank shuttered to a stop. The Major had learned from his first attack on one of these tanks that while the hand held rockets his troops carried could not penetrate the tank’s armor, the treads were quite vulnerable. He had instructed his men to use this tactic, and they had used it well. The tank, while immobile, was by no means out of the fight. The Major heard the turret whir around and then heard the unmistakable sound of automatic laser fire rip into the abandoned buildings. As if on cue, the major sprang to his feet, aimed steadily at the tank that was now only 30 yards away, and fired his rocket. He had no time to see where he hit. Before the rocket had even gone 5 yards, the Major had dropped the launcher and was crawling as fast as he could towards the side of the bridge. The turret whirred around so fast that it actually riddled the bridge with laser fire before the Major’s rocket slammed into the turret. The turret kept firing, but it was apparent that the rocket had done its job and the turret couldn’t turn anymore.

The Major reached the side of the bridge and met up with one of the squads. Now that the turret was out of action, they could approach the tank and go for the kill. Grabbing his assault rifle from his second in command, he signaled to the men to advance from their positions and flank the vehicle. As he climbed out from their hidden position, he could see the squad on the other side of the road advancing as well. This was the tricky part. And this is when they usually needed the backup. The tank sat there quietly, the barrels of the turret smoking from the heat of the laser fire, the treads charred remains. The Major hoped that somehow the damned monsters had been killed by one of the rockets. His hopes were dashed with a hiss as the back of the tank opened.

Gunfire erupted almost instantaneously. The Major’s forces gave everything they had as two hulking figures leaped from the tank. Immediately the two Demons split, one going to the left and one to the right, laser fire erupting from their large rifles. The Major dove behind a small burned out hulk of a car, followed quickly by two of his men. He knew that the tank usually had a crew of three, so that meant one was probably still inside the tank calling for backup. “Do we have any more rockets?” he asked one of the men.
“Kranz has the last rocket, sir.” The Major thumbed on his comm unit, no need to keep quiet now. “Kranz, what’s your position?”
”Sir, I’m pinned down about three cars behind you.”
“Can you see into the tank?” Asked the Major.
“Not quite sir.” The Major thought for a moment, trying to play out in his head what needed to happen.
“Okay, on my order, get where you need to be to fire that last rocket into the open tank, I’ll have the men provide you cover. And Kranz, don’t miss.” The Major dialed in the open channel used by all his men.
“All right men, on my order we all converge on the tank.” He paused to glance over the car while the men gave suppressing fire from their protected hiding places. He could only see one of the Demons, crouched down behind its own cover, returning fire.
“NOW”, shouted the Major. At his order, all of the squad surged from their hiding spots, making a mad rush at the tank. The Demon stood up and started picking off the soldiers one by one, giving no heed to the large amounts of fire ricocheting off its dull black armor. “The damned thing has armor!” The Major watched in horror as the Demon systematically slaughtered his men, handling the laser rifle with amazing accuracy and speed. The Demon had killed five of the ten men who rushed him before they converged on it, piling on top of it like ants. The Demon swung his rifle like a club, crushing the skull of the man who couldn’t get out of the way. Two of the men had leapt onto the back of the monster and were trying to pry the helmet off, at least giving them a soft spot to hit. The Demon realized that this would not be a good thing, and started reaching frantically for the two men. The Major was about to join the fray when the tank exploded in a massive fireball. The Major was blinded by the white hot blast, felt himself rocket away from the explosion, then a sharp searing pain in his head and back, and then everything went black.

New Discussion Topic.... because Bot is too lazy to post one....

My idea for a new discussion topic is ships.

Yes I want to know more about the vessels of various M.O.A.G.ers.

So explain away the vast awesomeness that is your ship, fighter, cruiser, etc.

And do it now, or I will sic West on you.

And he is rabid. So hurry and post.

Chapter 1

(Here it is... the first chapter of Atrius' story. Enjoy, and sorry for the length.)

He awoke lying face down on the cold steel floor, not sure exactly where he was. It took nearly ten minutes for him to gain control of his senses, and rise to his hands and knees. Another ten minutes passed before he could see straight, his one eye trying to adjust to the dark he found himself in. His clothes were soaked in what appeared to be vomit, probably not all his, and blood. He tried to stand up, but a wave of nausea brought him quickly to his knees, and he wretched his guts out until nothing but bile dripped from his burning lips.

He sat there, looking at the floor for nearly an hour, not entirely sure that the nausea had gone. He glanced around the room, trying to remember how, and why, he was there. The room was rather small, just large enough for a small slab of steel with what appeared to be a horrible imitation of a mattress laying on top, a dirty sink with a cracked mirror, and a very used toilet, the kind you’d expect to see in a cell of some sort, which is what he determined this must be. He momentarily thought about looking in the mirror, getting a good look at himself, but the thought of throwing up again quickly changed his mind. Instead, he slowly crawled to the crude bed. It took him fifteen minutes to drag his upper body onto the steel slab. His body completely drained of energy, he could not go any further, and he fell asleep.

The sound of a closing door jostled him from his sleep. He didn’t know what time it was, or how long he had slept, but he felt much better than yesterday. At least he thought it was yesterday. His eye adjusted much faster to the dark this time, a good sign, and he noticed a small tray near the door, with some nutrient sticks and a cup of water on it. He sat up gingerly, hoping that the nausea had also gone, and much to his relief it had. He started to stand up but thought better of it, so he slid off the bed and crawled to the tray. The nutrient sticks were standard issue on Conar ships, and while they contained all the necessary vitamins and nutrients, they tasted like Klisk droppings. Not that he had ever tasted Klisk droppings, but the Conara soldiers all seemed to think the description was rather accurate. But he was used to the sticks, and realizing how hungry he really was, he quickly devoured them.

The sticks did wonders for him, and within a half-hour, he found he could get to his feet without too much trouble. After adjusting to being on his feet, it felt like he hadn’t walked for nearly a month, he shuffled over to the mirror to finally get a good look at things. His head was shaven, and on the top of his head was a fresh tattoo of what appeared to be a bar code with the seal of the Conara Fleet next to it. His face was a mass of bruises and scars, a deep black patch around his eye. He stepped back to get a good look at the rest of his body. His chest was wrapped in a surgical field bandage stained with blood and vomit. He gingerly moved his arms in a round-about motion and from the sharp pain in his side determined that he had a couple of broken ribs. He had definitely looked better.

The door quietly slid open, its gentle motors whirring in almost near silence. He looked in the mirror over his shoulder to see the silhouette of a large Conar standing in the doorway. The Conar looked him over for nearly a minute and then tossed him a bundle of clean clothes. “Atrius Preim, you’re coming with me.”

“What is HE doing here?” Captain Aaleg demanded to no one in particular. Not that any of the crew on the bridge would answer, even if they did know why Grand Admiral Sentano was on their ship. Aaleg strode over to the security officer, “Where is he now?”
“He is on the bridge, Captain.”
Aaleg turned slowly to see the Admiral standing in the open door. Captain Aaleg was considered a large Conar, standing close to nine feet tall. He had used his size many times to improve his rank and standing, intimidating any who got in his way, and destroying those who wouldn’t get out of it. But any thought he had of intimidating the Admiral went quickly out the airlock. Sentano stood a good 13 feet tall, and was easily the largest Conar Aaleg had ever seen. He understood why the Admiral seemed to have few enemies.

“Grand Admiral Sentano Sir, we are honored to have you on board. I hope…”
“Captain Aaleg, You have ten minutes to assemble all members of the Preim project in docking bay 8. Don’t keep me waiting.” And without another word the Admiral turned and strode out of the bridge. The Captain quickly pulled his first mate aside, “Greel, get the Preims in the docking bay”
“What about the grunt?” Greel hissed.
“Clean him up as fast as you can, and maybe by the luck of Osidus we’ll live through this.”
Greel watched Aaleg hurry down the corridor. “I doubt it.” He mumbled to himself, and then ran back toward the bridge.


Dannis was sitting on the floor of his room, next to his brother’s bunk. Atrius had been in the brig for a week now, and Dannis was getting worried. Not that Atrius didn’t deserve it. Dannis had told him repeatedly that the Conar were just baiting him, hoping he would give them any semblance of a reason to use excessive force, and Atrius never seemed to disappoint them, and that was making it harder for the rest of the Preims.

The door hissed open and the first mate stepped into the room. “Get on your feet Preim, you’ve got a visitor.” Dannis climbed off the floor, “What do you mean I have a visitor?” Greel didn’t seem to pay any attention to him.
“You have 5 minutes to get the rest of your… group”, Greel’s sarcasm was palpable, “up to docking bay 8. Your visitor doesn’t want to be kept waiting, so I would suggest you hurry.”
“What about Atrius?” Dannis asked as he followed Greel into the corridor.
“Oh, he’ll be there.”
“Is he okay?”
“Only if we’re lucky” Greel muttered to himself as he hurried off to the docking bay.

Dannis went back to his room, quickly got his uniform on and then thumbed on his com unit.
“Xar, Shyla, Garrick, meet in docking bay 8 in 5 minutes. Battle dress.” He looked in the mirror, made sure his uniform looked good, and then headed out the door towards the docking bays.
“What’s this all about?” Dannis turned to see Xar and Shyla coming down the corridor.
“Greel said we had a visitor. Wanted to see all the Preims.”
“Will Atrius be there?” Shyla asked. “I haven’t seen him for at least a week.”
“Greel said he’d be there, but I don’t know what condition he’ll be in.”
“He should be dead” Xar added, “Aaleg really went berserk. I’ve never seen him that mad.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a good thing Atrius is half Gargonan” said Dannis.
“He has always been hard headed” added Shyla. “Maybe Aaleg finally knocked some sense into him this time.”
“We thought that he knocked some sense into him last time” Xar added dryly. They all chuckled as they entered the trans-lift to the docking level.


Atrius had never seen this Conar before, and this intrigued him. Aaleg’s ship had a crew of 50, not including the Preims, and Atrius had met all the crew at least once, so finding someone new on board was quite a surprise.
“So… where exactly are we going?” He asked. The Conar seemed not to notice him and kept walking briskly down the corridor.
“Oh, looks like I’ve found me a talker” Atrius mumbled to himself. Before he realized what was happening, the Conar turned, grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall, holding him a good two feet off the ground. Atrius grabbed on to the large arm, trying to take some of the pressure off of his larynx.
“Listen rat, YOU have not found anything. So I suggest you keep your mouth shut.”
”Well…” gasped Atrius “I think I see your point.” Without another word the Conar let go of Atrius, turned sharply and continued on his way. Atrius stepped in behind him, rubbing his sore neck


Sentano looked over the files of all the members of the Preim Project. They were a diverse group, especially seeing as that they were all half-breeds. The Grand Council had diverse opinions concerning the Preims and their worth to the Conar. Some of the Admirals, like Faye, thought that they were vital assets to the fleet. Others, like Hooblabah felt they were… well… half-breeds and not worth the fleet’s time or efforts. Sentano was somewhere in the middle. He didn’t really care about them either way. That was why the Council had sent him. He didn’t have to come personally, he could have sent any one on his staff, and he was planning on doing just that, but then at the last moment, something about the group intrigued him.

He flipped back through the files. The Preims were all born and raised in a test facility ran by Admiral Faye. They were addressed by their ID numbers until they were roughly 5 years old, in which they were allowed to choose their name. Most of the members kept Preim as their surname, in reference to the name of the project they were part of. It was all rather dull, Sentano thought. He could care less about how a soldier came into the world. Just as long as he was a soldier. He came across the personal files of each member and studied them individually.

Dannis Preim was the defacto leader of the group. He was mix of Conar and Nareskan, which combination allowed him to be extremely adept at hand to hand combat. He was, for the most part, Conar, and from his looks you could not tell any different, save for he was only 6’10” tall, but that wasn’t too out of the ordinary. “Perhaps that’s why he is the leader” Sentano thought. “He looks the most normal out of the group.”

Atrius Preim was the next file. He was a mix of Gargonan and Cylonquin. “I feel sorry for this one” Sentano muttered to himself. “Being part Gargonan has to earn him a lot of points.” The Conar and Gargonan were bitter enemies, had been for millennia, and if Aaleg’s crew was anything like the rest of the Conar fleet, they would not like him at all. Sentano looked at the picture attached to the file. Atrius was roughly 6 feet tall, had pale yellowish skin, long dark hair and one large green eye. “At least he’s not green” Sentano thought. Atrius had a long list of “disciplinary actions” attached to his file. This didn’t surprise Sentano, but what did surprise him was not the amount of abuse he had taken, but how well he seemed to recover from it. Apparently the one part about him that made the Conar hate him was also the one reason he was still alive. That was very interesting indeed.

Xar Preim. Half Conar and Macaneon. Very interesting mix. The Macaneons were a small, lizard like species with 4 arms, of which Xar was blessed with. Other than the 4 arms, he looked surprisingly Conar, even staying relatively tall at 7’6”. He was another one that the crew seemed to get along with, and it stated that he spent a lot of time with Shyla Preim, and that could be why the crew liked him.

Sentano turned to look at Shyla’s records to see what the statement in Xar’s file meant. He saw the picture and immediately understood. She was a very attractive Conar female, which was a rarity, especially in the Conar fleet. Shyla was half Conar and Half Cylonquin. She looked mostly Conar, but had the smooth elfish qualities associated with the Cylonquins. Standing at 6”8”, she was rather short, but Sentano could see how the crew could overlook that fact. It was noted that she was involved with Xar. “Ah, and now we see why they like him too” Sentano added with a chuckle.

The last member of the group was the oddest of them all. Garrick Psycke was half Nareskan, half Human. He was good with computers but not a great asset at hand to hand combat, especially against larger opponents, like a Conar. He was the most independent and aloof of the group, not keeping the Preim surname when he chose his name. Interestingly enough, there was not much else about him in the file. Sentano thought that was rather odd and would have to inquire about that with the good captain Aaleg.

A shuffle at the door brought Sentano out of his contemplation. He looked up to see one of his guards enter the bay followed by whom he assumed to be Atrius. He was in bad shape. The guard led him over to the Admiral.
“Sir, I have brought you Atrius Preim as you requested.”
“Excellent. You may return to your station”. The guard quickly turned and headed back on board Sentano’s shuttle. Sentano stared down at Atrius, who came roughly to his waist.
“So you are the infamous Atrius Preim. I cannot say it is an honor to meet you.”
“Well, give it time. I find most people are honored by my presence” replied Atrius dryly.
Sentano looked at him thoughtfully before answering.
“You have no fear, I’ll give you that, but your attempt at humor is somewhat lacking”.
Atrius stood looking at the massive Conar, wondering what he could want and more importantly, who he was.
“You seem to know me, but I’m afraid I don’t know you.”
“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough. Now, if you would kindly wait for the rest of your group, we can get down to business.” Atrius knew that the Conar was commanding him to stand at attention and get out of his way. Atrius did as he told, and found it quite interesting. If Aaleg would have given him that command, there would have been no way that he would have obeyed. Mostly out of principle. But there was something about this Conar that was different than any Conar he had ever met. For some reason Atrius respected him. Even felt willing to follow orders from him.
“Come on now Preim” Atrius said to himself “Don’t get soft on me know.” And with that he did something that Atrius Preim had not done for a very long time. He followed an order.

When the rest of the Preims arrived, the admiral dismissed Aaleg and his officers, who were more than happy to get as far away from the admiral as possible. When the group was alone, Sentano turned quickly to the group.

“I am Grand Admiral Sentano. You are now under my… supervision. We will be leaving the ship in 15 minutes, I suggest you retrieve your necessary items and meet back here as quickly as possible. The shuttle will not wait. So either you make it, or you can try Captain Aaleg’s hospitality. You are dismissed.”

Atrius watched the other Preims run out of the bay. He had nothing on board that he wanted to keep, and a few things that he wanted to forget. He quietly walked over to the Admiral’s ship, walked passed the guards, and went up the ramp.



Aaleg quietly watched the Admiral’s shuttle leave the docking bay. He said nothing to the bridge officers who reported on the ship’s systems, or paid any attention to the various statements of readiness being shouted out by the communications officer. When Sentano’s shuttle joined up with his fleet, Aaleg walked quietly into his quarters, and watched the fleet make its jump into hyperspace. He stared at the view screen for a moment, as if to make some silent decision, then with a nod of his head, he walked over to his personal computer, entered in his security password, and punched up a secure channel to the space station he was orbiting around. A communications officer appeared on the screen.
“This is Captain Aaleg, of the Golden Fang, I request a secure transcom link.”
“Yes sir.” Stated the comm officer. “What is the link’s destination?”
Aaleg reeled off the information by heart, “Alpha Quadrant, 45892 Delta, Call Sign ‘Clean Slate’”.
“The link will be active pending identity verification. Please transmit your security package now.” Aaleg entered in the necessary information and sent his electronic identification papers to the station. The comm officer verified his identity, entered in some information in his computer, and then turned to the captain, “Verification complete, transferring the signal to you now.” Aaleg watched the screen flicker black, and then the communications officer was replaced by a surly looking conar.
“You’re Excellency,” Aaleg said with a firm salute. “I am reporting as ordered concerning the package that was left in my care.”
“Has he picked them up?” Asked the conar.
“His fleet has just left the system.” Aeleg answered.
“Very good. You have your orders. Keep me informed.”
“Yes your Excellency.” Aaleg saluted the conar, closed the transcom link, and quickly went back to the bridge. He quickly strode in and sat in his command chair. “Helmsman, bring us to the far end of the system, prepare all systems for hyperspace.” As the bridge sprang into action, Greel walked quietly over to the Captain. “What are our orders?” he asked.
“We are to proceed as we discussed.”
“Shall I plot our destination, then?” asked Greel. Aaleg thought for a moment, and then silently nodded. Greel immediately walked over to the Navigation officer. “Set us a course for…” his voiced trailed off as he searched through various star charts and galaxies. “Set a course… here.” The Navigation officer looked at their destination, started entering the coordinates and necessary information, all the while wondering what Aaleg needed on a little backwater planet called “Earth”.

Characters eh? Well... where do I start?

I've enjoyed the last couple of posts about people's characters in moag, and thought, 'what the hey, I'll give it a shot!' But here I am, staring at my computer screen and wondering where the heck do I start?

I've got more moag characters than I know what to do with, and half of them I don't even remember. There's the obvious ones, Atrius Preim (Note the German spelling. No real significance, but I thought it was cool). And, well, okay so maybe he's the only obvious one. He's definitely the one I've played the most.

For those of you who don't know, Atrius is what the Conar call a Quell. He's a half-breed, straight from a Conara military test tube. He's a mixture of Gargonan and Cylonquin, a very interesting mix. He looks roughly human, but does have only one eye. He started off as a peon in the Conar military, working with his "brother" Dannis, a Conar/Naresken (Shadowwire, you'll have to confirm that) mix, as well as Xar (Conar/Macaneon, picture a four armed Conar), Shyla (Conar/Cylonquin, very popular amongst the Conara military, you know, there not being many good looking Conara females), and Garrick Psyche (human/nareskan). The Preim group, as they were called was sent mainly on small mercenary type missions until the "passing" of Admiral Faye, the leader of the Preim project. After which they were transfered to Admiral Hooblabah's command. Hooblabah set them up in the firefight with the squad of Klisk Powered Armor on Earth, where Atrius was separated from the rest of the Preim group, lost his left arm, got a cybernetic implant thanks to a stranded Macaneon in Orlando, and eventually came back to the Conar, got reenlisted as Syrac Krex, commanded his own ship until a group of Conara Mercenaries took it hostage, which turned out to be Dannis and the rest of the Preims.

Anyway, there's too much story to tell here, and I've tried my hand at writing my own novel-like thing which I'll post at a later date, but let me sum up quickly:

The Preims sought out Admiral Sentano, and then under his employ, started looking for Artifacts (will power endowed items) and joined forces with some Gargonans (I know, a very strange partnership), started finding the Gargon Armor (Atrius first found the Black, and the others found theirs after that) helped establish a society on a small planet called Respon in the outer rim and use the planet as the base of their operations, found 9 of the 12 Gargons, confronted Osiris himself, and then the Preims split up, with Atrius heading out to the outer territories for who knows what. Wow.

That was quite a long run on sentence.

That was the last I ever saw of him, and have since retired him from active MOAG play. Although Shadowwire and I have some grand ideas for him, so don't think that's the last you've ever seen or heard of him. He'll show up when you least expect it, but probably when you need him the most. Or not.

So, let me get my breath.

Okay, so that's my most famous character, but I've been lucky enough to have some other important characters. Luckily, that means I've had my hand in the proverbial MOAG slime since the beginning. I've introduced new species into the game, the Gorloch. I've drawn the majority of the species, and so I got to put my own spin on what Shadowwire wanted them to be, and got to be my own creative editor. And I think it's safe to say that Kang, Bot, and myself have been Shadowwire's biggest help in ironing out game play, setting up the MOAG universe, and basically telling Shadowwire that some rules sucked, and needed to be changed.

So I don't really know where this trains going... but I better get off here.

See you all later.

WHEW! That tryptophan is potent!

I was beginning to worry that the turkey did every one in!

Now, as to my characters:
My first... Kiaya Cron, Klisk Imperial Princess. Spoiled royal brat, thought she knew everything about everything, til she found out the hard way, almost with her life. She's on haiatus til she finds a purpose for her life. (yes, shadowwire's daughter is named after my character...what an honor!)

Next is Catrynte Campbell, a human from Pre-MOAG. Born in Scotland at Castle Argyle, her father is the current Laird of the Campbell Clan. Abducted by the Conara at age 15, doesn't remember much about it yet. Was in the witness protection program because she witnessed a mob hit; they found her, she was whisked away to Regina, Saskachewan, Canada, and placed undercover as a police officer's partner. Just witnessed the first Conaran Tank being dropped off as the invasion begins. Yes, those long buried memories are screaming to the surface rapidly.

Next is Savara Garr, Conara( or is the correct term Conar?); of the afore mentioned "Good" side of the Garr/Gar family. But... she's not always been so good. Special Ops agent for the Conaran Gov't. (nuff said), currently AWOL, also a mercenary for hire at times, Captain of an amazing ship... the Kadaj, has gathered an incredible crew that she also considers her best friends, is President of the Tiberion Corporation that made millions with the discovery and development of spice and synth spice- found to be effective against the nano virus formerly considered the Unknown Threat, and also co-founder of Trahelion Pharmecutical, Du Vrangr Gata Research and Developement ( yes, I borrowed the name from the books Eragon and Eldest) and last but not least, Ocreb Transport. Also, wife of Ja-rod. Savara is one cool Lady, and the character I've played the most.

Forth is Iella Tarus, Gargonan;Also known as 'Q' after an attempted memory wipe. Sister to Pablo Diablo's character mentioned in his last entry. She is a spy for the Gargonan Gov't, and recently went under cover to rescue her brother (she's still not sure why) and other members of the Red Light Project (? not sure of the name) a program set up to attempt to create super soldiers using technology stolen from the Gargonans.

And lastly, Mar-ya Drax, Klisk; an Engineering Specialist that didn't want to be tied down to a bunch of needy Klisk husbands (yet), and is out making her way through the galaxy. She's currently between jobs. I don't know her very well yet, she's only been created for a few days.
I look forward to getting to know her and Iella (also fairly new) much better.

The Unoriginal Bounty Hunter

My first MOAG character's name is completely unoriginal. Any fan of the Star Wars expanded universe will know that the name Jaster Mereel belongs to a Mandalorian Bounty Hunter who eventually became Mandalore. There I said it. I am a pirate of copyrighted material. I digress, some of my other character names have been the Gargonan Barden Tarus or another Gargonan Goran Vegarr.

Tarus is the family name of a semi-succesfull line of spys, agents, etc. who work for the Gargonan Empire. Barden recently exploded the head of a crazy midget scientist who could warp people's minds.

Vegarr was originally Negarr but that seemed to be too close to a very racist word for my comfort. Vegarr was told that he would be a farmer not an assassin for the Gargonan Empire. As a result of this he fled the Empire and made his way to the trading planet of Cern where he got thrown in jail for stealing something to eat. He was just recently released.

Another Belated Entry, or is that Ablative Entry..... >.< I don't know.

Kang Dragoon....... Don't ask.

Gar Vs. Garr

These two Conar families have a common root ages ago. The Garr's are a respected noble family with histoical lineage dating back to the beginnings of the Conar empire.
Some time back, there were some select members of the family who began dealing in criminal activity, mafia. In order to save face with the empire, the mainstream family rejected their criminal cousins and banished them. The banished family dropped the last 'R' from their name, and have ever since been known as the Gar's. Over the years, they have developed one of the most successful and dangerous criminal organizations that exists within the Conar Empire.
Needless to point out. The two families, one adhering staunchly to government and religious tradition and the other complete rebels, are mortal enemies.

MOAG is dark, not bright and pretty.

I think I just figured out the next topic of discussion. I dont know how you all feel about the blogs "new look" but I find it rather disturbing. I look forward to that nice black background to hide on my nice black desktop while at work. Is the white background just a side effect of some other changes (that I have yet to notice) or is there some underlying scheme to destroy the ballance of the universe?
But seriously, I hope everyone is ready for Friday. Im excited to get this campeign of mine rolling. So barring any family disasters, natural disasters or just disasters in general, I hope to see everyone there and ready for a knock down drag out.
Later...

Topic of Discussion 2: What's in a name?

Thanks to the observation of the Great Salvaggio and the wonderful comment by Shadowire, I think that our next ToD will be on the slightly overlooked topic of Names in the M.O.A.G. Universe. It's true that many of us might look at a name and see it how we look at every day names. What you are called, then who you belong to. Are we really bound so much by this rule that we pick our character names by the same observations? Maybe so . . . for the most part.

I do have many characters that have the family name last (Quar Setca, Gorlen Dal, Crolen Dal, Milin Kwal, Amadeus Edwards) but then I also have my two Klisks that I like to play the most. Bara' and Koolah . . . that is their full names. The reason for this? Well, to me it's rather simple. More like a Native American thing. Bara' and Koolah come from some of the older tribes on Montar. They are still bound by the ways of their ancestors. I feel, and correct me if I am wrong Shadowire, that names were given to young Klisks as they entered adulthood. I'm not saying that they didn't have names before that, but they took on another name and left the other name behind. Bara' has always meant to me "Rock of the Hill" and Koolah is "Soft Wind." Those were the names given to them by the Elders of their tribes and that is all they got. Now, some other Klisks might have gotten two or more names, but alas, Bara' and Koolah did not.

Anyway, that is what I think. We will now leave it to Shadowire to give us his view on the subject. I still want to hear everyones opinions though. Give us some of your characters names, how you picked it, and what it means to you.

CHECK OUT MY DEVIANT ART PAGE!!!!!! LOLZORGZPWND!!!!!

Okay. First of all, I don't have a deviant art page, nor will I ever.

Second of all, if there are those of you in the MOAG universe that DO have a deviant art page, my condolences. I kid I kid...
No really, I'm sorry.

Again I KID!!

The purpose of this post is to tell the MOAG universe that... unfortunately... I STILL don't have any new artwork to post. But before you start the riots and the pillaging, let me just inform you that I DO have free time again, so some time this week I'm going to start putting up some various MOAG illustrations of various things, variously. Most of them will not be finished pieces, but 30 Min - 60 Min quick drawings, or color paintings if I remember to bring the Wacom home from work. Anyway, I have a few ideas, but am open to suggestions. We have had multiple "novella" type entries as of late, some of which have inspired me. So if you have any suggestions, let me know.

One little caveat to all that, I might follow the suggestions I might not. It'll be like winning the lottery, only with no winning. Or money. Or buying tickets.

Also, on a completely different topic, as I have read through all of the wonderous blog entries as of late, I have noticed a few things about the MOAG universe that I would like to bring to a discussion.

Firstly, everybody seems to have the same Name structure for all of their characters. Now that's not necessarily a bad thing, but it strikes me a little wierd in that throughout the various races and the known MOAG galaxy, everybody uses the standard First and Last name structure. If we take a look at the various cultures here, we see that Humans alone do not follow the same naming conventions among the various cultures. For example, Jewish custom was to give a first name followed by some designation as to the father, for example, Judah Ben Hur. Literally meaning Judah, Son of Hur. Some asian cultures list the family name first and the given name last. Some african cultures bear reference to the tribal matriarch (mother). I'm not saying we need to do this, I just think that it would give some more variance to the MOAG universe if we spiced it up a bit. We could take it a little further and have Wes determine what type of language each species use. For example, the Macaneons can use a lot of sounds made by the tongue (S,T,K,C,D to name a few) and shigh away from sounds made by the lips (M, N, F, for example) because they are lizards and don't have the facial dexterity that a human does. Anyway, I'm probably off my rocker here, but let's discuss it anyway.

I was going to add some more things, but seeing as I don't play now (Hopefully we can play for a while Thanksgiving weekend, I'll be down there - Bot make it so!) I have decided to rant any more. Let me just say this, if you've never played anything other than a Klisk, Macaneon, Gargonan, or Conar, you're missing out on a lot of fun. I have a Nareskan with whom I've had as much fun as anyone else I've played. And speaking of him, his name is Sabu Nortrax. Sabu being his last name, and Nortrax his given name, so there's an example of what I was talking about.

Anyway, if you're going to leave a pretty hefty comment, please post it in a new post.

And again, to those of you with a Deviantart page, burn it. NO I KID!!!!

(Really, Burn it).

about time someone fixed my account...

I'm supposed to be the super duper master of the universe SYSTEM OPERATOR, right? I mean, c'mon, doesn't anyone remember TRIDENT BBS? The one and only?

So I get shut down from the blog for like 14 years until someone unlocks the account. Oh... I get it... this is what it feels like to be a "standard user," right?

Hmm... let's see what I can hack here.....

The un-fashionably late entry.

The Planet Boiler! Not that I've ever used it..... :)
Actually I'm rather fond of the C2 Assault Rifle. *Reflects on fond memories of blood and carnage.* Not a Devils-Bane by any means, but a fun weapon non-the-less.
Oh and let us not forget the Noisy-Cricket! But then we are out of the Moag realm and into the realm of fiction... er.. wait a minute.

An audible silence.

Well, I guess everyone is done with the first ToD. I really wish that Shadowire and Kang would've given us some of there insight, but alais they did not. I will give them one more chance.

Now, on to business. We have another M.O.A.G.er in our presence. O'mally (also known as omally) is here to entertain us with his quick wit. . . . Now, if he would post.

Anyway, give him a warm welcome and make fun of him, please.

P.S. If you don't know who O'mally is. He's my nephew!

The Many Faces of Bot!

Thanks to everyone that has posted on our first Topic of Discussion and to those who will post on it. Wonderful jobs! Now it's my turn.

The many faces of Bot consists of many characters that range throughout the universe that is M.O.A.G. I cannot pick just one weapon though, because each character is different and therefore fights differently.

Joac - a small, but strong Macaneon, loves the feel of the Star Shell Ejector. With it's amazing ammo that might move slower than most, but packs a huge wallop.

Koolah - the shy Klisk, prefers his Klisk Tribal Long bow over any other weapon. It's quiet and deadly, giving him the chance to sneak while using it.

Amadeus - the once human cyborg. . . . He likes to punch things. . . . Nuff said.

Quar - the Holder of the White Gargen. . . . again, Nuff said.

Bar'a - the big guy. Think of him as Heavy Weapons Guy from Team Fortress 2. He prefers the gentle tap of the Power Axe or the War Hammer known as the Doorbell. He also enjoys making swiss cheese out of others with the ADAC Pulse Rifle.

That's about the size of it. My favorite memory? Three words for you, "Nice shot, Sir."

In my sights....

When I think of guns I automatically think of the awesome C2-Sniper and the deadly RK-14A Sniper. These rifles are the pride and joy of one Jaster Mereel. Well that and his ship and his other guns and his armor and his other armor and his mech and his knives and his sword and his jetpack and his cool artifact that he has no clue what is does and I'm done.

Anyhoo, I got some more story information. It's on a group of people who started the whole thing.

The 12

The 12 are a secret group of highly placed individuals who originally planned the Terran Civil War, the fall of the Empire of Order, and the birth of the United Terran Republic. The 12 actually began as The 6. At the Terran Order’s Academy for intelligent children, 6 students who had been taught secretly by their parents to undermine the Order and help restore freedom to the people decided that the time had come to plan a “reordering” of things that included the utter destruction of the Empire of Order. They came up with numerous ideas but dared not share them with anyone else. The fear of losing their lives for thinking against the Order, made the 6 swear by a code, that no one could know about their plans without the others consent. The 6 came to the conclusion that the only way to defeat the Empire was to attack from the outside and inside at the same time. After scheming for years and avoiding the secret police’s investigators (who are placed at schools to stop the chance of rebellion fermenting with the brightest of students), the 6 graduated top of their respective classes and joined organizations best suited for their coming role in the galaxy. The original 6 were Ivente Helos, Ithany Nova, Kel Arkan, Greken Cassius, Jace Cassius, and Vessen Tacitus. They were later joined by Kenso Auriss, Herran Kast, Marto Randon, Jaggel Von Kellor, Zek Terol, and Char Anvale. By the time the gathering of the 12 was complete the Civil War was in full swing.

The 6’s plan was simple and complex at the same time. Kel Arkan would secede from the Order with his loyal men and found the Arkan Freedom Federation in an attempt to start a war of attrition with the Empire of Order. Ivente Helos, Lord Marshal of the Order, would order troops to attack pre arranged locations and would fight using strategies that both he and Arkan conceived earlier to draw the war out. Grand Admiral Ithany Nova was charged with leading, mostly reining in, the brutal and bloodthirsty Death Head’s Legion, the most feared independent Imperial fleet. Greken and Jace Cassius were charged with possibly the most difficult mission of all; take charge of the Emperor’s private weapons research and development system, Kron, and use the new technologies to help the 6. Finally, Vessen Tacitus used his family’s already considerable wealth and prestige to begin forming an economic powerhouse whose main business was constructing starships. The 6 hoped that the war would unite people who wanted change and kill off the hardliners who would never stop believing in the Empire.

Some civilians immediately saw what was happening and secretly tried to contact General Arkan. The first successful civilian contact was Herran Kast. Herran Kast became a member of the 12 after he was successful in starting a group of insurgents, known as “The Kast’s Dozen”, that would start inciting rebellion on worlds all across the Empire. Another civilian contact who became a member of the 12 was Kenso Auriss. Auriss was brought in by Jace Cassius after the two designed and built the Ventross Prototype War Suit. Auriss was told that he needed to use his companies massive financial reserve to aid the 12 and he secretly arranged for the transfer of the money himself. Civilians weren’t the only ones chosen by the 6 to help them realize their plans. Three military officers were brought in by Ivente Helos and Kel Arkan over a period of two years. The first and probably most important was High Admiral Jaggel Von Kellor. Kellor was convinced by Helos after Kellor discovered that the tactics Helos was employing were being read by Arkan and vice versa. Von Kellor approached the Lord Marshal and demanded an explanation. In light of the demand for more information, Ivente Helos broke the Code and told Kellor their entire plan. Helos knew that the risk was huge but the payoff was even larger. The High Admiral agreed and became part of the 12. Von Kellor’s task was similar to Helo’s own, he had to help plan strategies and battles that would keep both sides in a deadlock until the final preparations had been made. The next member had a tragic event happen to him. Captain Marto Randon was commanding his ship, the Implacable, when he learned that his wife of 10 years had died in an operation mishap by the Order’s supposed top doctors. Marto, furious at the Order, swore vengeance and secretly contacted Kel Arkan. Arkan accepted his offer to spy and helped Marto eventually defect with his whole squadron of ships. He was brought into the 12 after the defection and was given the task of using his squadron to pirate enemy cargo and supply ships.

The last military member to join was Colonel Zek “The Terror” Terol. Terol is the best friend and personal advisor to Ivente’s son Peren Jace Helos. Zek was brought into the 12 after discovering their plans on his own. He confronted Peren who contacted his father and together they convinced Terol of the right in their plan. Terol agreed and was tasked with guarding both Helos and acting as a personal messenger between the 12. Last and certainly not the least is Char Anvale. Char was born on Kron V in an experimental cloning vat that was bombarded with Willpower energies during all phases of growth. He is the first of the two surviving brothers of the ill fated Anvale Experiment. The Willpower energy and advanced experimental training that Anvale continued to receive until his growing ended at 18 left the scientists with an incredibly powerful and unpredictable being who resented being raised the way he had. With the special training that Greken Cassius instructed him with, Char knew that the Empire had to fall. When the Emperor came to visit his two new warriors, Char sensed a powerful evil conscience dwelling in the back of the Emperor’s mind and it had an incredibly strong Willpower presence. Since the scientists limited knowledge of Willpower couldn’t help explain the feeling, Char decided that the only way to stop the evil that lurked in that mind was to kill the Emperor himself. After Greken and Jace Cassius explained to Anvale the 12’s plan, Char agreed that it was the only sensible solution to the problem that was the Order. Char was tasked with taking the Kron system and using its resources to destroy the Emperor.

Dancing the forms...

In the words of the immortal Robert Jordan....

Cat Crosses the Courtyard turns into Emptiness; Plucking the Low-hanging Apple becomes the Leopard's Caress; Parting the Silk launches into the Dove Takes Flight, countered with Kingfisher Circles the Pond....
Thus the opponents dance the forms around each other, swords glinting and clashing in the moonlight.

Mr. Jordan's words are the best I can come up with to describe my "Most Memorable Weapon" experience.

Savara and Bar`a had been taking willpower lessons from Zead Dahl (I know, INSANE!) and he took us to a shadowy courtyard on Ardalon 7, in DRE territory, in the middle of the night. We were only allowed to bring my sword, and his battle axe, fondly called the Doorbell.
We had no idea what was coming... we waited for a while in the dim moonlight, then out of the shadows stepped a very strong willpower user (Shadowwire can tell you who it was, my notes are rather vague...) and a gajillion warriors. Okay, so it was only about forty, but the odds were a little uneven. Bar`a and I took care of half, and Zead Dahl took care of the other half and the willpower user. At least I think that's what happened; I was too busy dancing the forms to count. The most important fact is we won against incredible odds; and survived having Zead Dahl as an instuctor.

Now, as to my most favorite weapon, it has to be my T6-G heavy laser cannon. It helped turn the tide of the battle when our compound was being attacked.
But then, I also like my CX laser Battery, my Rs252 rifles, my .... how's a girl to choose?

The Kiss of the Devil's Bane.

Or as I like to call it, "How I learned to use my new robotic left arm".

And so I bring to the table, as my most "memorable" weapon, the Devil's Bane. I am choosing this not because it's my favorite weapon, or because it's incredibly powerfull. It's mainly because I was one of the first M.O.A.G.ers to feel it's wonderful effects, ie. to get shot by one.

It happened on my first official mission with Atrius Preim. The Preim group was sent down to earth to clear out some small "rogue elements" before "The Hunt" began. Little did we know that the "rogue elements" where a full squadron of Klisk Battle Armor, waiting for us. Needless to say, Conara battle armor doesn't hold up too well to a Devil's Bane from 15 feet. I'd tell the whole story, but it's actually being written down at the moment, Bot has inspired me to continue my journeys with Atrius, so this short summary will have to do for now. Well, when I came to I was in the bottom of an elevator shaft of an abandoned building somewhere in Florida. I had survived the encounter, but had my left arm broken and the muscles and tendons shredded by the Klisk heavy cannon. I eventually had the arm amputated, and a kind Macaneon, "The Guru" gave me the robotic implant while I was in Miami waiting to be picked up by any passing ship.

So there it is. The Kiss of the Devil's Bane. While i've felt the kiss and lived to tell the tale, I'd rather not like to try it again.

Topic of Discussion 1: Favorite M.O.A.G. Weapon & a memory to go along with it.

Well, we're going to try this out and see what people do with it. Out first Topic of Discussion is Favorite M.O.A.G. weapon and give us a memory you have of that weapon. Please make all responses to the Topic as a new blog, that way everyone will be able to see it, instead of having to search for it in the comments area! Have fun with it people!!!

Post away, Moagers!!!

P.S. To those none Moagers in our midst, I would still like to hear from you. Give us an example of a real weapon you like.

Caught red-handed with the mistress...

Hello,

My name is Salvaggio, and I'm... well I'm... (sigh) I'm a TF2-a-holic. It's been a good 30 minutes since my last game, and frankly, your all nutters if you think I'm going to give it up. I know MOAG is what this blog is about, and I know that I started the dang blog in the first place, so I should have to suck it up and keep the topics related to MOAG, BUT COME ON!!! HAVE YOU SEEN TEAM FORTRESS 2? HAVE YOU?

Sorry, let me regroup here... talk amongst yourselves... okay, okay, I'm back. First off, just look at the picture above. See the Pyro? You can see him smiling through his gas mask. And let me tell you, when you light somebody on fire, you smile too. He's my favorite. And while I'm still not too good at the online multi-player thing, it's one of the most addictive games I've ever played. Let's just put it this way, NCAA football 2008 can't get me to turn from the screen.

So I cheated on MOAG. There. I said it. That's right, I went there. But you have to see it from my side! MOAG is always going over to Shadowwire's house for game night, but does she even call me? No. And you can't tell me that Shadowwire doesn't have a thing for MOAG, so I know there's something going on there. Besides, I live like 4 hours away, and she never comes to visit me. So just back off okay?

(Sigh) I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. MOAG has been nothing but good to me, and has been there for me when I needed to game. Maybe a guy can play two games? Is that so wrong? I mean, they're not even the same genre, so maybe they can co-exist?

Or maybe not. That's probably why I'm here. I need some sort of 12 step program to get me straightened out. Do we have one of those? No? Huh. Oh well, I tried. Back to the servers!

Oh, if you do get TF2, or the Orange Box (which is probably the best video game value you'll ever see), create a SteamID and look for Salvaggio there, and I'll see you at 2 Fort.

Okay, now that I've taken care of that, where are the doughnuts?

It's time for the feminine touch...

Hey, guys...
How come I haven't heard about this before? I mean, I see most of you on a weekly basis in the moag universe (miss you Salvaggio!), so why the secret? Kang, its been too long; you need to grace our weekly sessions with your presence once in a millenia.
Anyhoo... the cat's out of the bag (thanks for the invite, Bot), and if I can wrestle computer time away from others who tend to hog it, I'll add a thing or two from time to time.
So, until next time,


Let The Ladies of Chaos..... Blog!

I'm feeling vaclempt, talk amongst yourself

I, Bot Boi the 1th, have had an amazing idea...... Okay, so I think that I am reiterating an idea I heard from the Great Salvaggio, BUT I am tweeking it a bit. I think why people don't post as much as they could is because they really don't know what to talk about..... Well, I know some of you are thinking of course we know what to write about... MOAG, duh! But obviously some of us (including myself) are having a hard time with this new found freedom.

I think what we need are Topics to Discuss. Something like Attributes in the MOAG world and how they affect character play, or What is your favorite weapon and the memories that go along with it, or How did your character get in THAT situation? Remember that blog posts don't have to be novels, we can just write a few lines for people to read and get ideas for more blogs.

Well, I would like input! Tell me what you think!

Site changes...

Well, I was going to do some cosmetic changes to the site. Add a header image, change some layout and whatnot. But apparently the blog gods saw fit to throw down some mean lag on the internets tonight, so I'll have to put it off until another time. For the mean time, enjoy the header above.

Judicator Online

Here is the Judicator. Well at least until i figure out how to make the texture things. Anyhow, this is the Terran Empire of Order Aka Terran Order's main battlecruiser.
Since I gave you the history concerning the formation of the Atrissian Holy Empire, I will now give you the history of the Terran Order and the beginning of the Terran Civil War. Anywho don't ask me how these humans from another galaxy speak english or why they call themselves terrans. Because I don't know. It's just the way it came together.

The Terrans have been living on the planet Terra since before the beginning of their recorded history. The planet has been through numerous wars and at the end of the final world war, the remaining leaders came together and created a world government that would unite the people under one supreme ruler. Thus the Empire of Order was formed. The Empire is ruled by the emperor who rules without check. Every planet is ruled by a lord who is in charge of the planet's populance and production capabilities. Every system of planets is ruled by a count and every sector of systems is ruled by a duke. These rulers make up the lord's council. The council is overseen by the grand duke. He reports directly to the emperor on the state of the empire. The Order's military is ruled by the lord marshall who only receives orders from the emperor. In order to continue to have an everlasting peace the Order censored all forms of media and took over the duty of teaching it's citizens. By putting down minor rebellions and condemning ideas that are too free thinking, the Order has suceded in maintaining peace for over thousands of years. However certain people in high places disagreed with the Order and they formulated a plan where they would secretly teach their children to think for themselves and to live double lives: one that served the Order and the other that sought to undermine it.

After three thousand years of rule with only one single devastating rebellion, the Empire of Order newly crowned emperor, Setis Asheron, decreed that all unpure terrans were to report to special work camps where they could eventually be made whole again. By unpure, the emperor meant all terrans who had cybernetic implants or had latent willpower abilities. This also sadly included people who were handicapped or mentally disabled. Since there was few objections in the lord's council, the emperor decided to go ahead with his plan. He ordered Lord Marshall Ivente Helos to pick his best general to carry out the plans. However, when General Kel Arkan found out about the true reason for the camps, he refused to follow the order and told the emperor himself to, basically, screw off. Shortly afterwards Setis had his entire family killed as to teach Arkan a lesson. All this did was fuel the fire that would become the Terran Civil War.

General Kel Arkan is the most respected leader of the military next to the Lord Marshall himself. When he heard news of his family's death, Arkan gathered his loyal men and as many of the "unpure" terrans as he could and declared war on the Empire. This marks the beginning of the war to free the people of the Tel'Dabe galaxy from the evil that is the Empire of Order.

The Jasta Cometh

Hello,

I'm Pablo, who happens to be a diablo, Husselbee. I work with Mr. Shadowire, and have been playing M.O.A.G. quite regularly for about one to two months now. It is really fun, and I really liked the fact that M.O.A.G. is a role-playing game that is seemingly endless. After a few weeks of getting to know the system, I started to write down ideas for a campaign or story (that West could eventually use in M.O.A.G. if he wants) mainly for my own entertainment. Since they involve the M.O.A.G. universe I thought it would be cool to share some of the characters, plots, ships, etc that I have come up with.

The story starts with the Council, you guys already know this story, that joined together to form the godlike thing. Some of the council didn't like this idea and ran away. Atrissia was one of those members who ran away. Over time her ideals became twisted in her quest for more power. Eventually she came across a couple of galaxies rather close to each other. The first, Tel'Dabe, is inhabited by a group of humans that ended up there after the godlike thing, Moagra?, seperated the species. The second, Sas'Kettis, is inhabited by the reptilian-like race called Sas'Kettians. When Atrissia came across the humans she dismissed them as primitive, but decided to keep tabs on them anyways. However, the Sas'Kettians were far more advanced. She bided her time on a planet where she grew those funky willpower crystal spiders and harvested the crystals. When the Sas'Kettians gained the ability to travel into hyperspace, she allowed one of the ships to find her planet in their galaxy. When the first Sas'Kettian, Uegra Sas'Throk arrived on Atra, the eventual name of the planet, Atrissia revealed herself as a magnificent and powerful god to Uegra Sas'Throk and proclaimed him her prophet. She commanded him to began preaching to his peole to worship her, and if they did she would give him and his people more power than they could believe. At first Uegra did not believe her promises and told her he needed more proof or else his people wouldn't believe him. In response to this Atrissia gave him the first of many Katrai, willpower amulets worn on the arm, that contained a massive reserve of willpower. She also gave him the Grathonis, a sword made of a rare metal called Atrissia's silver by her eventual followers. This sword when infused with willpower could cut through the heaviest of battle armors. With these gifts she also taught him how to wield the willpower, a ability which is rare among Sas'Kettians. Uegra then departed Atra and headed back to his colony on Fregyia.

Well, back to studying.

More to come.

Peer Presure???

I was going to post this in sections, but here's the whole @#$% thing!!!....... minus the first section.

The suns light had long since gone and left the neighborhood when Michael pulled up to his modest two story house. He let out a sigh of relief at finally reaching somewhere comforting, exited his car and walked up the path to the front door. The coral colored bricks always felt warm and inviting. The high pitched gray roof reminded him of a fairy tale that he had heard as a child, but the title of said fairy tale had escaped him for at least a decade. The tall windows added to the illusion of a great castle on a hill over looking a small village.

The front door made of glass, with white trim swung open as he grabbed the simple wooden hand rail of the short stair case up to the porch.

A beautiful woman stood in the entry way. Her long flowing dark red hair shone brighter from the light coming from the inside of the house. The gentle yet motherly worn face that looked down at Michael was very familiar and he smiled at his wife, Marie.

“Where have you been?” Marie said, her face distorted into a scowl. “You're an hour late.”

“What?” Michael said, staring at her. “Oh, sorry. I meant to call when I was getting off of the freeway, but something strange happened.”

“Can you tell me about it over dinner?” Marie asked, with a smile that showed Michael everything was going to be alright and she wasn't very angry at him. “The foods getting cold and you need to hear what happened to Wilma today and Mark got his report card.”

Michael smiled back, continued up the walkway and through the front door. He set his briefcase down next to the stair case that led upstairs to the three bedrooms. A glance to his left showed him that Marie had cleaned the living room thoroughly, again. She could never let anywhere or anything in the house get too messy.

Turning to his right and meandering into the dining room, he found that Marie had already sat back down in her seat to the right of the empty chair at the head of the table. Wilma, Michael’s daughter and oldest child, sat to the left of the empty chair. She smiled at her dad and he saw, as he always did, her mother in the warmth of her face. She turned to her left and sneered at her brother, Mark, who had taken his straw from his drink and was flicking it up and down. His messy black hair looked like he had been caught in a wind storm, but Michael knew that he had done it like that on purpose. He looked into Mark’s eyes and noticed how much he was looking like him.

“Stop that.” Wilma said. “You just got me wet.”

“Make me.” Mark bit back.

“Mom,” Wilma whined, “can you stop him?”

Marie, noticing the half empty plates in front of Wilma and Mark, said in an annoyed tone. “Thanks for waiting for us. What's with the hurry?”

Wilma sat in silence for a not to brief moment, but then answered. “I need to get back to work if I’m going to get it done by Friday.”

“Aren't you going to tell your dad what you are trying to get done?”

Trying to avoid the whole topic Wilma said, “I turned in my Biology Paper yesterday.”

Marie was too persistent and continued with a simple, “And?”

“And I got an ‘A’ on it.”

“And?”

“Mom.” Wilma's voice trailed off. “It's nothing, really.”

“Fine then, I'll tell him.” Marie turned her attention to Michael. “She has been invited to enter her paper in a State competition.”

Michael looked over at Wilma and smiled. She looked down at her plate of food and Michael noticed that her cheeks were turning red.

It felt like yesterday that he held her in his arms and hummed silly songs to her. Michael could see himself laying her in the crib and watching as she slowly fell asleep.

“That's great, Wilma.” Michael finally said, feeling the pride swell in his chest. “So what do you have to go work on?”

“I have to check it for mistakes and make sure that my sources are accurate.” Wilma turned to her mom. “May I be excused?”
Marie nodded. Wilma scooted her chair back, picked up her plate and took it to the kitchen. On her way back through the dining room she leaned over and gave Michael a hug.

Michael patted her on the back and then noticed that his headache was back again. He felt his eyes begin to burn and then his fingers tingle. It wasn't until he heard Wilma's bedroom door close upstairs that he noticed Marie and Mark staring at him.

“Honey?” Marie said, her voice wavering slightly. “Is it the headaches?”

Michael nodded. He forced himself to look up and smile.

“You had something to tell me, Mark?” Michael said, trying to avoid the question.

Mark smiled. “All that studying paid off, Dad. I got an ‘A’ minus in Algebra.”

“That's great.” Michael heard the words, but they felt foreign to him. “Marie?”

“Mark, why don't you go up to your room right now? I'll get Dad to help me clear the table.”

Marie's voice echoed through Michael's head. The headache intensified. The walls and ceiling closed in on him for a brief moment. The colors in the room shifted to a brighter shade and then to a pale, dull hue.

“Do you need me to take you to a medical facility?” Marie said.

“No, I just need my medication.” Michael said, as the room swayed back to normality. “Medical facility? You mean a hospital?”

The room had returned back to normal, but in the short time it had taken to shift, the table was clear and Marie had disappeared.

Michael leaned over to look into the kitchen and immediately saw Marie. The kitchen, even though devoid of any mess, looked of. Pictures that usually hung on the wall had disappeared. The counters and cupboards spotless of all messes reminded Michael of when his family had first moved in to the house.

Michael jumped to his feet and moved quickly out of the dining room when he first saw Marie. She seemed out of focus while everything around her looked crisp and clear.

She turned and spoke, but all that Michael could hear was what sounded like a broken speaker pushed too far or a radio station coming in only half way.

“What's going on?” Michael said, his heart pounding somewhere in the vicinity of his throat.

He backed into the wall and noticed two people looking down at him. Mark and Wilma stood perfectly still at the top of the stairs. Both had their heads cocked to the side and stared with unblinking eyes.

Wilma opened her mouth and spoke, but the sound came out much like Marie's had in the kitchen. Everything was distorted and unintelligible for a few moments. Then it changed.

“Where is the one designated as Amadeus?” Wilma said, her voice changed into something evil and twisted, too low for a human and sounding as if it had been overlapped many times.

“Who is Amadeus?” Michael replied, calmer than he currently felt.

“The one designated as Amadeus Edwards is near by, I know this.” Mark said, his voice now the same as Wilma’s.

“No one . . . named Amadeus li-lives here.” Michael stammered, realizing that his forehead, palms and back were covered in sweat.

“No one lives here.” The evil voice said as both Wilma and Mark's lips moved. “This will be easier for you if you give me the information I am after.”

Michael backed into the front door. Mark's head began to shake violently, twisting and vibrating in a blur of movement. Wilma's eyes turned a dark deep red.

“Please, I beg of you.” The evil voice said, only coming from Wilma’s mouth again. “It's not you I want . . . or need. I am looking for Amadeus.”

“I already told you, I don't know--”

“I KNOW HE IS HERE! IN YOUR MIND!” The evil voice reverberated through Michael's skull. “Please, tell me where he is and I will leave. I need his coordinates.”
“I have no idea--” Michael began to say, but something took his voice away.

The room fell silent. The slight breeze passing through the window had died. All motion stopped, just as it had on the freeway. Then Wilma and Mark broke the silence with a subtle movement. Michael stared in horror as they moved down the stairs.

“Your world is crashing down on you, Michael.” The evil voice resumed from Wilma's mouth as Mark continued to shake violently. Every step for them a labored movement. “You are a pathetic imagined little man. You have no idea that you are a lie and that no one cares about you. They are only using you to protect someone.”

As the statement pierced through him, Michael heard himself say. “Who are you?”

Wilma stopped and smiled as Mark kept moving. “I am Xekignar.” She said. “I am the one sent to this region of space to cleanse and make ready for the Master's. I will”

Wilma moved slowly down the stairs again following Mark whose whole body now shook violently like a marionette stuck in fast forward.

“Nothing will stand in my way.” The evil voice said, now coming from all around. “I will use you to get to him.”

Michael fumbled the doorknob until it turned. He lost his balance and fell into an abyss, landing softly on his back in a grubby bed.

* * *

Slowly old, weathered walls formed around him out of the nothing and a well worn gray shag carpet spread out from under the bed. A yellowish ceiling that was once white fell into view as Michael stared up. The shear height of it and the weathered old furniture gave the room a feeling of a hotel that was once beautiful and fit for the upper class American. Now, it looked like a place for whores and drug addicts looking for a place that rented by the hour.

Michael sat up as a lump formed and then grew next to him in the bed, under the sheets. He froze in his spot looking at it.

A hand came out from under the blanket and Michael jumped to his feet. He was almost naked. Only white briefs clung to his sweaty body. A head became visible as the hand pushed the blankets and sheets down the bed.

“What's a matter?” A familiar voice said. “Too much for you to handle?”

“Marie?” Michael finally mumbled.

The woman looked like his wife, but not entirely. She had too much make up on, her face looked like it had lived a hard life and a scar ran across her cheek, from the corner of her left eye straight down to her jaw.

“Who is Marie?” She said with a smile. “Oh, I get it. You want me to be Marie. That'll cost extra, but whatever you want Mister.”

She stood up and walked slowly and seductively towards Michael.

“Mister? It’s me Honey.” Michael said. “Where am I? What is this place?”

“I'm not really sure.” The doppelganger said. “You picked this god forsaken place. Frankly it kinda creeps me out. And don’t call me ‘Honey.’”

“I've never been here before. How could I pick this place?” Michael asked, moving away from the woman. “You're not my wife!”

The woman stopped. “Sure as hell I'm not. Good of you to figure that out though.” She stopped, shifted her weight to her left leg and put her right fist on her hip. “What? You miss her?”

“No.... Yes, I mean.” Michael struggled to think a coherent thought. “You look like my wife. You are my wife. What the hell is going on here?”

Michael dropped to his knees and clutched at his hair with both hands.

“Where am I, Marie?”

“My name is Lucy. Not Marie.” She said. “If you keep calling me, Marie, I’ll have to get more money to stay here.”

“But you are Marie!” Michael said, as his mind panicked.

“I've never heard of Marie, or used that name.” The woman said, clearly agitated. “Besides, I don't like you calling me by your wife’s name.”

“Please, Marie, stop this act.”

“I AM NOT MARIE!” She said, only her voice wasn't her own. It had grown into something evil.

Michael jumped back automatically and ran into the door. He reached slowly for the doorknob behind him and gripped tightly onto it.

Lucy let out a scream that chilled Michael to the bone. Black ooze pored from her skin like thick tar seeping through thick fabric covering her entire body.

Michael pushed against the door, his hand still gripping the doorknob.

Lucy threw out both arms and began to grow up and around. The room got very crowded, quickly as she now took up the majority of it.

“You can’t hide him from me.” The evil voice said as Lucy’s eyes stared through Michael. “I will find him and he will be destroyed for making a fool of me.”

The black ooze that took over Lucy’s skin became shiny and appeared to solidify. She continued to grow in all directions. Her arms grew along with her body, but her legs shrank and disappeared under her.

Michael fumbled with the doorknob for a moment and finally threw the door open. He fell backwards out into a hall and scrambled back against the wall opposite of the room.

The beast that had once been Lucy stopped growing. It now filled the room to the point where the ceiling was cracking and the floor creaked and moaned. Its huge dome shape covered with black oily skin. Many eyes looked all around, with a huge one in the center fixed on Michael. Two huge arms extended from both sides. No mouth or nose was visible, but short thick tentacles gave the impression of a squid and Michael could only think of a beaked mouth tearing at him from underneath the huge beast.

It raised an arm and brought it down through the wall as if nothing was there.

Splinters and various debris sprayed out over Michael. He guarded his face with both arms for a brief moment, not wanting to keep his eyes covered for too long.

The beast closed in with surprising speed, using its massive arms and hangs as legs and feet. Michael dived out of the way with only a moment to spare, its fist plowing through the wall just behind Michael.

Michael rolled and hit the ground running. He could feel the beast following behind him. He dared not look back.

“You can’t run forever!” The beast yelled into Michaels mind.

Michael flew through a door at the end of the hall and found himself in the stairwell. A window invited him on the other side to a quick escape, but Michael hesitated like a deer in the headlights of a car and turned around.

The beast was coming down the hall with amazing speed, taking out both sides of the hall with every movement. Running, elevated on its two arms its mouth visible on the bottom of its body, round with rows of sharp, jagged teeth.

Michael backed to the other wall, standing in front of the window. He raised his arms in front of his face, as the beasts arm came flying through the door and part of the wall, the force of which sent Michael out the window, falling down the side of the building.

The building then disappeared and a black void took over again. The sound of broken glass mingling as it fell around him slowed and then disappeared.

* * *

Michael fell through the void for sometime. Thoughts and images passed through his mind, many that weren’t his own. Voices spoke in weird languages that Michael didn’t understand.

He came to rest on solid ground, but the blackness did not dissipate. After a few moments the blackness finally gave way to the light of day. The wind whipped from all directions. Michael sat up and looked to the sky and clouds. They looked normal except for the red hue that made him think of blood and the fact that it appeared to be looping over and over again in five to ten second intervals. The blackness that he laid on turned to dark brown dirt. Grass then broke through the ground and grew almost instantly to two feet high.

Michael finally recognized the area as a field he had been camping in when he was younger, but he had never been camping when he was young.

“Time is running out.” A familiar feminine voice said. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Michael turned to find Marie standing next to him. She was dressed in a beautiful evening gown that hugged her tightly.

“Marie? Is it really you?” Michael asked.

“Of course it’s me.” Marie smiled her usual silly grin. “Who would I be?”

Michael moved towards her, slowly, wary of what had happened to him earlier.

“Why are you scared?” Marie asked, stretching her arms towards Michael.

“This isn’t real.” Michael whispered.

“Why isn’t it real?”

“I know this place, but I’ve never been here.” Michael said. “It’s like it’s from a dream.”

“This place is as real as you make it.”

“What?”

“This place will be as real as you want it to be.”

Michael stopped dead in his tracks. He looked around and realized the surrealism of his situation. Even the mountains off in the distance seemed too tall and warped to be real.

“I don’t want to make anything real. I just want it to be real.” Michael said as his heart pounded. “I just want to be normal and take things for granted like everybody does.”

Marie’s eyes sank into her head, leaving nothing but black caverns.

“You selfish, pathetic man.” Marie yelled. “You think that anyone cares about you?”

Michael slowly stepped away.

“I can’t believe the shit I have to put up with from you.” Marie said as her hair whipped around in a new stronger wind. “Be grateful for the time you have had.”

A gun appeared in Maries hand as she extended her arm towards Michael.

“Be happy that you will die quickly.” She said and pulled the trigger.

Michael felt the warmth of the bullet enter his chest. The slight pressure of the tiny object in foreign territory crippled his already fracturing mind. He leaned back and fell again. This time into a black void that felt more like death than anything else.

* * *

“I’m not getting anything, Joac.” A deep rumbling voice said from out of the darkness. “The system isn’t reading either now.”

“Fine.” Another voice said, this more lizard like. “Get the defibrillator. I can monitor both systems for a moment.”

Michael had lost all feeling in his body after the bullet entered his chest. Now some of that feeling returned, but it felt foreign. He knew that this was not his body.

“Okay.” The rumbling voice said. “Uh . . . where is the de--?”

“Other side of the table.”

“Oh, okay.”

Michael felt the movement of something huge coming around by his face. He opened his eyes, but couldn’t see anything. The sensations in the new body had gone far beyond those that he had ever felt. Everything, except for sight, now functioned better than Michael had ever felt.

“I have a faint signal.” The lizard voice said. “Wait on the defibrillator for a few minutes, Koolah.”

“Do you still want me to prep it?”

“That’s a good idea. Use this tray to set it on.”

Something rolled next to Michael and bumped into his arm.

“Oops.” The rumbling voice said.

The bustling of things being haphazardly tossed onto a metal tray filled Michael’s ears.

“What does this—?” The rumbling voice said, but stopped abruptly. “Uh, Joac? Should Amadeus’s eyes be open?”

There was that name again. Michael closed his eyes instinctively, but with the view being the same with his eyes closed as it was open, he couldn’t tell if it had actually happened.

“Don’t joke around, Koolah.” The lizard voice said. “I’ve isolated Amadeus’s algorithms.”

“Who is Amadeus?” Michael thought.

“I’ve got something on the monitor, Koolah.” Joac said. “It’s . . . a question.”

Michael heard the sound of many hands typing on a keyboard, but no other sound to give any clues as to how many more people were in the room.

“What does it say?” Koolah asked.

“It—“ Joac said. “It . . . um. Who is Amadeus?”

“How does he know what I thought?” Michael allowed himself to think.

“Koolah, is anything out of the ordinary with the body?” Joac asked.

“Besides his eyes being opened wide?” Koolah asked, with a defiantly sarcastic tone. “Everything seems pretty normal.”

“You’re serious?” Joac asked.

Michael heard the shuffle of small feet coming towards him.

“Oh no.” Joac muttered. “This is not good.”

“What’s not good?” Koolah asked.

“I think I know why we can’t find the Michael program.” Joac said as the shuffling small feet moved around the room.

“What is it?”

“I think we flushed Michael into Amadeus’s brain.” Joac said breathlessly. “He’s trying to communicate through his own algorithms. That’s what keeps coming up on the monitor.”

“And that’s not good?”

“To say the least.” Joac said. “To say more, it’s very bad.”

The many hands typed maniacally at the keyboards again.

“There,” Joac said, “that should give him some more control. I have Amadeus on stand by.”

“Who is Amadeus?” Michael heard himself say, but the words were foreign. It was his own voice, but the accent sounded like Joac’s.

“Just stay calm.” Koolah said.

Michael’s sight shifted through all the colors in the rainbow and then back to black. Slowly, his vision came back to him.

He found himself in a room filled with different shades of gray conduit and various colors of wires running across the ceiling. There was not much different about the walls, except the consoles of computers running around the room.

A huge shape filled Michael’s field of view. A huge bald head with cool blue eyes staring at Michael greeted him. The skin on the face looked thick and very stone like.

“Are you there Michael?” The mouth on the face said and Michael recognized it as Koolah.

“What are you?” Michael asked.

“Let’s not worry about that right now.” Koolah quickly said. “Hurry up Joac.”

“I’ve got it.” Joac said.

The shuffling feet moved towards Michael. He felt a cool hand on his right wrist, one on his forehead, one on his shoulder and one on his chest. A grayish face came into view and Michael squinted at it.

“That didn’t take long.” The new face said with a forked tongue and Michael recognized it as Joac. “We have something’s to work out with you Michael.”

Michael felt dizzy and lightheaded as the scope of everything finally hit him.

“This isn’t my home.” Michael said.

“No, not really.” Joac said.

“What are you?” Michael asked. “What is this place?”

“You are on the Koje Space Station near the center of the Milky Way Galaxy. I am a Macaneon. My name is Joac Boca Osak.”

Michael leaned to his right and immediately noticed the difference between himself and Joac. Namely, the four arms coming from Joac’s body, two on either side, a lower and upper set. Also, the fact that he looked like a lizard standing on its hind legs that bent in strange places.

“I am from the planet Jabro.” Joac continued. “My colleague’s name is Koolah.”

Koolah nodded his head.

“He is a Klisk from the plant Montar.”

“I’m confused.” Michael said. “This can’t be real.”

“This is real, Michael. As real as anything can get.” Joac said as he removed his four hands from Michael’s body. “I’m afraid that I need to apologize for everything that has happened to you.”

“You did this to me?” Michael said. “Why?”

“Let me start from the beginning.” Joac said. “This may take a while.”

“I think that I have some time.” Michael said.

Koolah chuckled.

“Amadeus Tanner Edwards was born on March 21^st, 2012 according to your calendar. He is a second generation Refugee from Earth. His parents died when Amadeus was very young.”

“This is all very interesting,” Michael interrupted, “but what the hell does it have to do with me?”

Joac and Koolah looked at each other for a long moment.

“You are in Amadeus’ mind.” Koolah said.

Michael cringed at the thought of this and knew immediately that it was true.

“Thank you, Koolah.” Joac said. “Next time say it with more tact.”

Joac sighed.

“Listen, and listen carefully, Michael. How do you think that you are speaking Macaneon? You are a program set up by me to protect Amadeus from a terrible being.”

Joac sighed again. Michael finally realized that it wasn’t just the accent of Joac that he was imitating, but also the language. It felt very natural to him.

“Amadeus went into the Cybercon Military at a young age, seventeen I believe. He was killed in the line of duty, but was such a good soldier that Cybercon saved his brain and put it into a robotic body.”

“He’s a cyborg?” Michael said.

“Yes, he later retired from Military service and became a mercenary for hire. He’s been through several bodies and captured by several enemies. One being that captured him created a body for him made from a technology that hasn’t been seen in this or any other galaxy. Unfortunately, that body was destroyed, but the box his brain was contained in was saved and Amadeus received another frame.

“I thought—hell! We all thought that the Ax-Doiyoki would lose interest in him. The body was destroyed, taking the technology with it. We were wrong.”

Joac smiled a weak and desperate smile. Michael thought that it might be because he had no lips.

“They killed many people trying to find Amadeus and all our efforts to hide him failed miserably. Somehow they knew where he was at all times.”

“Joac found the answer though.” Koolah said.

“The key was his brainwaves. We found that out when we put Amadeus’ brain in stasis. Something altered his brainwaves when he was in the deep sleep. The Ax-Doiyoki lost his trail, but there are certain things that happen to people, even cyborgs, that are left in stasis for a large amount of time.

“That’s where you come in, Michael.”

Michael felt as if he knew the end to the story already.

“I built this I.O.S. System and the Ax-Doiyoki have not been heard of for a while.”

“I.O.S. System?” Michael asked.

“It stands for Input Output Server System. I fed Amadeus’ brainwaves into it and the computer did the rest. It changed Amadeus’ brainwaves slightly, but enough for the Ax-Doiyoki to lose the trail again. The only side effect was the creation of you Michael.

“I know that sounds mean, but it’s true. You are the by product of Amadeus’ altered brain functions. Without him you would not exist.”

“Next time use more tact.” Koolah said with a smug smile.

“The point I am trying to make is—“Joac said, but paused.

“That I am not real?” Michael interrupted.

“You are real, but the body you are in right now is a borrowed body. It is Amadeus’.”

“The processor is complete, Joac.” Koolah said, looking behind Joac.

“I’m not going to remember any of this.” Michael said.

“You’re right.” Joac said. “I’m going to put you in with Amadeus’ brainwaves and sort both of you out. When I am done, you will not remember most everything that has happened to you over the last couple of hours.”

Joac turned and walked to a computer terminal. Both sets of arms typed on two different keyboards at once.

“You’ll be okay, Michael.” Koolah said. “It’s only until we find out what the Ax-Doiyoki are after.”

“What’s going to happen after that?” Michael asked, but Koolah only smiled.

“Upload beginning.” Joac said. “Complete in three . . . two . . . one . . .”

Joac’s voice trailed off as Michael was greeted again by the blackness.

* * *

A warm white light caught Michael off guard. As it dissipated he found himself standing in the middle of a young boy’s bed room more familiar to him than that of his own. The dark blue walls, covered in posters, looked fresh and smelt like new paint. A simple four post twin bed sat in the corner with one side under the lone window.

“This was my room.” A voice said.

Michael turned to find a man standing in the open doorway of the bedroom.

“It was mine until I ‘volunteered’ for Military service.” The man smiled.

“You’re Amadeus.” Michael said. “I want my life back.”

“Relax, dipshit,” Amadeus said, “Joac will give you your life back. He’s good at that computer thing.

“Me, on the other hand, I don’t know anything about computers . . . . Other than I am one . . . kinda.”

Michael threw a strange look at Amadeus that asked, “Why are you trying to make small talk?”

“Look,” Amadeus said, “I’ve never been good at this small time chat bullshit. I’m trying to make the transition as smooth as possible.”

Amadeus took a small step into the room.

“I’m sorry this happened to you.” Amadeus said.

“Me too.” Michael said, flatly.

Amadeus looked up at the ceiling for a moment.

“They are ready.” Amadeus said. “Joac says to walk through that door to get back to your family.”

Michael stepped towards the doorway without any hesitation.

Amadeus grabbed him by the shoulder. “Thanks for all you’ve done for me. Thanks for going back for me. You’ve saved my life.”

“I’m not doing it for you.” Michael said. “I’m doing it for my family.”

Michael continued on to the doorway as Amadeus’ arm slipped from his shoulder. He stepped through and felt the jumble of technology and suburbia.

* * *

He was lying on the couch with his shoes still on. His tie was loosened and the top two buttons of his dress shirt unbuttoned. He sat up with a start and then forgot why he had sat up in the first place.

“Are you okay, Honey?” Marie said as she walked into the living room. “I heard you gasp.”

“I’m okay.” Michael said. “I just had the weirdest dream.”