[ᴜᴀʀ] ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇʟʏsɪᴜᴍ sᴘɪʀᴀʟ

Lao'Taun: Space; for most it was the unlimited frontier, the medium between planets, between star systems between spirals. It was a cold, ever changing expanse that brought fortune upon those strategic and ambitious enough to cease it. It was a coffin for trillions who had fallen short of victory. Four Spirals occupied... Thirteen Military Arms...The Umarian Astral Raquamothla had conquered some of the greatest space faring nations to have ever risen. It was just the beginning, a mere step within the path that had been the vision of Lao'Taun. The weak fell, and the strong prevailed and the celestial symphonic resounded through all of creation with their tales.

Some endeavors of the nation grew of things greater than victory, and it was upon that premise that the UAR once more sat upon the boundaries of the Elysium Spiral. A journey which had now come to this sordid place once more brought forth the knock upon the door which beheld a greater force which had been used before; it was a signal, a specialized and obvious declaration of their arrival. The ancient, mysterious calls of the space-born leviathans resounded from one honeycomb-like domain of subspace to the next, like that of calling whales within a vast and limitless ocean. A call which would be harmonized as those representatives confined to those dominions too called out, heralding the arrival of the great conductor of the celestial symphonic himself.

The unaligned corporate syndicates operating within the Hellespawn System bore the brute of the initial waves of incoming horde, unprepared and inadequate vessels were shattered into derelicts, unsealed tombs from which the dead drifted away from. The 'knock upon the door' which had come years before was muted under what was a wave of unfathomable strength. The  Miqursha-Rlarhau Military Arm, along with several vessels belonging to the Nyiathians had been granted the honor of being the leading edge of the massive dedicated force that traveled with Lao'Taun and the Yughoshi Materna Chonyosa.

σмɴᴇıтʏ [ʏυɢнσsнı мᴀтᴇʀɴᴀ cнᴀɴʏσsᴀ]

No god or demon shod in flesh of majesty could ever see half the sights my eyes have ‘seen’.


STATIONED: Yughoshi Materna Chanyosa
DESTINATION: Daiyu Okiya en-route to Private Military UAR Space Docks
SPECIAL REQUIREMENTS: [UAR HSC or HCP Required]

Disturbed by the oscillations within the atmosphere, repulsive forces stirring within the incensed evening in translucent energy waves. Cylindrical x Phasmatodean in shape, sleek and black with opaque tinted bioalloy windows pulled up beside where Satrina stood beneath the pallid, shifting light hoovering half a meter to Satrina’s height. The anti-gravity lifters positioned beneath the body, steadily lowering the Silhouette XI-D towards the ground.  Suspension sustained, position above-ground without making contact with the ground, the craft hung poignant, as if suspended by the thinnest of threads, or upon the palm of divinity’s hand.  Noticing that the driver wore a uniform accustomed to the UAR, and who returned her look with a raised brow and a blank expression that deemed an, 'ask nothing’ approach. Not even daring to grace the form of the ‘Imperial Concubine’ with his admiring eyes-- opting to instead to focus forwards, gloved hands firmly  gripping the wheel, whistling to himself as the left-hand side door rose with a subdued ‘hiss’.

Decompression sound and another uniformed officer appeared with a flabbergasted illustration clearly painted on the canvas of his clean shaven face that was instantly met with Satrina’s reflectionless stare that appeared to devour all light and life. "Ah... "  faltering for a moment being unsure how or what to refer to her as. Stuttering for a second then finding articulate means to communicate while he was met with the rise of a slender ebony eyebrow and the sweeping motion of her hand suggesting silence was the better selected option. Sinisterly smirking, not applying the usual means to permit understanding of her native dialect, further from the immusical humanoid clatter and granting him and the driver the true sounds of the Insectoid/Arachnidan. High-pitched, shattering to the ear-drums akin to the tiny splinters of glass shards perforating inner devices to the scarlet ruptures of haemorrhage.  Head tilting, to cause midnight tresses to tumble, a cold and callous frost filtering over Satrina’s countenance. Though lips did not move to offer a soothing and kind word, multiple sensory modes with the immunity to all ultrasound deterrents--  rose at first like the cruel desert winds, gradually escalating in multiple tones from the melodious to the cacophonous.