04-14-2016, 03:47 PM
“-insa-chan dete industa. Quitte feme espa vise favien.”
“Do, silux.” The voice from the helm went quiet, and the Novan scanned his surroundings. Beneath his heavy boots, small indentations were made in… something green. It grew out of the dirt all over, covering the land seemingly forever. “Do, craegena pet terr lige carte.”
“Trava sprite.” Again in the top right-hand corner of Ratione’s visor a mini-map popped up, now displaying a series of lines extending twenty meters out to denote elevation changes, a single dot in the center.
“Oi!” A voice came from the side, and Ratione turned to see another one of the species he had found dead, except alive. It had a helm, and simple armor with riveted plates, thinner pieces of plate going down its arms connected by small chains. Its legs were straight, and its posture was stiff. Both hands leaned against what Ratione could only assume was some sort of spear. Considering what he had just passed through, was that some kind of gate, and this was a guard?
“You a new prime?” It spoke in an unfamiliar tongue, but the sounds were… familiar.
“Empla sua?” Ratione assumed that since the alien had not reacted to his presence, then perhaps the empire was on this world.
“…..What?” The guard cocked its head to the side, scratching underneath the helm. “You’re gonna have to speak English pal.”
Ratione stepped forward, gesturing to the land beyond the gate. “Pare sote Novan. Qe empla sua?” Had he not been taught at least some of the language? Or perhaps he was simply not fazed by his appearance?
The guard looked out to where Ratione had pointed, nodding. “That’s Camelot pal.” When the suit of armor cocked its head to the side, he repeated the name while sweeping his hand over everything in sight. “Ca-me-lot.”
“…Cae…muh…lotte…” Ratione mulled over the strange name. “Cae-muh-lotte.”
“Close enough.” The guard couched his spear, moving closer and pointing to what appeared to be a fortress city… carved inside a damned mountain.
“Meria…”
“Mi-nas Tir-ith.”
“Mi-naes Ti-rit-eh.” The Novan struggled to make the foreign pronunciations.
“There you go buddy. Not perfect but people will know what you’re talking about.”
“Depla foresste sua?”
“….You know what?” The guard put his hand on Ratione’s back, giving a small pat, unhesitant despite the thick steel plates. “How about you head there. They might be able to sort you out.”
“Qe?”
“There!” The guard pointed again at the massive city, then made a walking gesture by waggling his two fingers. “Minas Tirith! Go there!”
“Depla foresste sua!” The foreigner nodded, seemingly excited.
“Yeah, yeah! Deep-pool-forest-sewer! Go ahead buddy!”
Without a second final word, the hulking suit of armor suddenly took off into the air, threading through the tall stone pillars surrounding the gate and soaring high into the air over the plains. He rocketed in the general direction of the mountain fortress, some several miles away.
“Heh. New primes are about the only thing that make this job fun.” The guard went back to sitting down, putting a kettle helm over his eyes, soon enough emitting a long and loud snore.
“Do, silux.” The voice from the helm went quiet, and the Novan scanned his surroundings. Beneath his heavy boots, small indentations were made in… something green. It grew out of the dirt all over, covering the land seemingly forever. “Do, craegena pet terr lige carte.”
“Trava sprite.” Again in the top right-hand corner of Ratione’s visor a mini-map popped up, now displaying a series of lines extending twenty meters out to denote elevation changes, a single dot in the center.
“Oi!” A voice came from the side, and Ratione turned to see another one of the species he had found dead, except alive. It had a helm, and simple armor with riveted plates, thinner pieces of plate going down its arms connected by small chains. Its legs were straight, and its posture was stiff. Both hands leaned against what Ratione could only assume was some sort of spear. Considering what he had just passed through, was that some kind of gate, and this was a guard?
“You a new prime?” It spoke in an unfamiliar tongue, but the sounds were… familiar.
“Empla sua?” Ratione assumed that since the alien had not reacted to his presence, then perhaps the empire was on this world.
“…..What?” The guard cocked its head to the side, scratching underneath the helm. “You’re gonna have to speak English pal.”
Ratione stepped forward, gesturing to the land beyond the gate. “Pare sote Novan. Qe empla sua?” Had he not been taught at least some of the language? Or perhaps he was simply not fazed by his appearance?
The guard looked out to where Ratione had pointed, nodding. “That’s Camelot pal.” When the suit of armor cocked its head to the side, he repeated the name while sweeping his hand over everything in sight. “Ca-me-lot.”
“…Cae…muh…lotte…” Ratione mulled over the strange name. “Cae-muh-lotte.”
“Close enough.” The guard couched his spear, moving closer and pointing to what appeared to be a fortress city… carved inside a damned mountain.
“Meria…”
“Mi-nas Tir-ith.”
“Mi-naes Ti-rit-eh.” The Novan struggled to make the foreign pronunciations.
“There you go buddy. Not perfect but people will know what you’re talking about.”
“Depla foresste sua?”
“….You know what?” The guard put his hand on Ratione’s back, giving a small pat, unhesitant despite the thick steel plates. “How about you head there. They might be able to sort you out.”
“Qe?”
“There!” The guard pointed again at the massive city, then made a walking gesture by waggling his two fingers. “Minas Tirith! Go there!”
“Depla foresste sua!” The foreigner nodded, seemingly excited.
“Yeah, yeah! Deep-pool-forest-sewer! Go ahead buddy!”
Without a second final word, the hulking suit of armor suddenly took off into the air, threading through the tall stone pillars surrounding the gate and soaring high into the air over the plains. He rocketed in the general direction of the mountain fortress, some several miles away.
“Heh. New primes are about the only thing that make this job fun.” The guard went back to sitting down, putting a kettle helm over his eyes, soon enough emitting a long and loud snore.
Quote:Novan translations, in order of speaking.
[Unstable changes detected energy. Vacate close space quickly favorable.] "Unstable energy fluctuations detected. It would be favorable to vacate the immediate area."
[Action, silence.] "Command, be silent."
[Action, make small land line map.] "Command, make a topographical mini-map."
[Working mind.] "Thinking." "Processing."
[Location self?] "Where am I?"
[Speak kind Novan. What location?] "Speak the Novan language. Where am I?"
[Move fortress self?] "Should I go to the fortress?" "Do I go to the fortress?" "I go to the fortress?"
[Move fortress self!] "I go to the fortress!"
"Our fear is our weapon."