Migrant Fleet- Ayrenn
Voice Alkinus stood as still as one of the thousands of statues that littered the empire. She hadn’t moved for the three hours that the Conclave and Admiralty had been debating her offer. Inside her helmet, unseen by everyone, Queen Ayrenn II, napped.
Well not truly napping, but she stood in a trance she usually reserved for Treasury meetings. She was aware of what was going on, but her sense of time was paused.
Her tranquil pose was shattered by her palm computer flashing excitedly. She brought the glowing sphere up so it sat before her, using holographic technology and liked the call with her internal speakers for privacy. “Yes?” she asked succinctly.
“Your Majesty. We have a problem.” It was the voice of her partner in this negotiation Voice Only-He-Stands-There, who was waiting in the golden Silence outside the Perseus veil.
“What kind of a problem Stands?” she asked, feeling a shiver of fear slid down her spine.
“The Geth are here and asking what we want.” His smooth tenor was flat, and laden with his shock.
“Gods…” Ayrenn breathed “what did you tell them?” she demanded, by this time unaware that the Quarians
had silenced and were watching her agitatedly.
“That we were waiting to see if we will get the go ahead to enter and attempt negotiations” was his tense answer.
Ayrenn sighed “And their reply?” She could feel al her carefully laid plans quivering in anticipation of the crumble.
“To quote them your majesty? “We will wait”.”
Relief flooded her body “Oh thank the Gods” she breathed “I’ll handle it from here. Just don’t offend them, Erenwyn out” she disconnected her message and looked up to see the entire conclave staring at her. “I’m afraid I will have to speed this process up due to the fact that the Geth have found our other diplomatic vessel and are now waiting for your response.”
She told them all, resorting to the tried and true method that had formed an empire “Hands up who wants their homeworld back?” she asked. Everyone in the conclave and admiralty board raised their hands in stunned silence.
“Good, and how many of you are willing to sacrifice your race in an insane crusade against an enemy you have very little chance of defeating in your current state?” Her stance spoke volumes about what she thought of the intelligence and possible ancestry of anyone who would raise their hand. No one did. “Perfect!” she said perkily before bringing up a massive speech cloud connecting her to her accomplice.
“Voice Alkinus here, Can you hear me, Voice Only-He-Stands-There?” She asked clearly.
“Loud and Clear My Lady” said the large pea green Argonian. “This is Plethora” he added gesturing toward the edge of the field of view.
A pale silver mechanical body moved forward, drawing gasps from the assembled Quarians. “Now then, you will all negotiate for peace, and you will all like it. Understand?” Ayrenn asked her invisible eyes roved the seats and causing some squirming.
“Good” she told them. Now then let us begin the peace talks”. She turned away to face the speech screen with an invisible smile and rolled her eyes.
Nirnian diplomacy at its finest.
“You’d think they’d never seen an Asari before” muttered the leader Ava T’kor as they stamped out of yet another bar.
The others nodded, throwing in their comments. “who cares?” piped up the baby of the group, a young maiden named Elenora “they’re all cowards anyway” Ava rolled her eyes at the girls naiveté but continued striding purposefully through the wards.
“Asari commandos are the best in the galaxy, they have good survival instincts to run… it just makes getting a drink annoying.” She told the maiden, rubbing her eyes “Goddess I need some alcohol” she muttered and the others nodded.
“Tani told me about a really interesting place around here somewhere” their tech Hera said hopefully, pulling up a map on her Omni-tool and staring at the instructions their friend in intelligence had sent them.
“Yeah but remember the last time we followed Tani’s suggestions? We ended up in a Vorcha stripper bar… I don’t care who you are that’s just wrong” Gela the vanguard muttered and the last member of their group Cerise snorted in agreement.
“I’m sure of it this time though” Hera said leading them around a corner and stopping dead. Snarky replies died in their throats as they all turned the corner and saw what had halted their tech.
Standing before them in complete contrast to the sleek metal corridors of the citadel, was a stone façade carved with frescos of a large armoured being with a massive horned helmet, holding a fork aloft in one hand and a double bladed battle-axe in the other, the inscription above resolved into the words through their translator: Ysgamore’s Spoon.
The translators were still glitching terribly with Nirnian translations though so there was probably something lost in the translation, like calling the image a spoon when it was clearly a fork.
There were the sound of shouts, laughter and strange music emanating from the building, sounds congruent with a bar.
The five commandos looked at each other and grinned “This could work” Hera told them triumphantly as they followed Ava through the heavy oak door.
The floor was paved with stone flags and the walls were covered in a light gold coloured wood panels that was decorated with carvings that were stained and painted, showing various races partying madly while a horned being egged them on and a Nirnian in brightly mismatched clothes laughed madly in the background.
A profusion of torches sat around the room on the walls, but their flames produced only light, no heat or smoke. A massive hearth sat in a depression in the center of the long hall and was filled with what looked to be coals, that emanated only light and a bit of heat this time. Long wooden tables with benches one side of the room while the other had smaller groupings and space for a dance floor.
The place was filled with Nirnians of all kinds and most bore the simple white shirt and brown breaches and leather boots of off duty soldiers, many augmenting the attire with brightly coloured vests and sashes, though they still all carried their various archaic weapons.
There appeared to be some kind of drinking contest going on the at one of the long tables as a huge blond haired round ear slammed back the contents of an impossibly large tankard back and the green skinned pointy ear did the same, both of them belching loudly at the end of their tankards much to the amusement of their audience.
On the other side of the room others sat at the table and conversed over their drinks and plates of food while a group of feline and dark skinned round ears played on steel stringed instruments and drums with bells and cymbals in a exotic melody that invited response, several patrons moved in fluidly seductive moves to the languid that seemed to evoke the image of shifting desert sands and blazing suns. In a corner there was a collection of low chairs and tables around a fireplace set into the wall which held what looked like a small business meeting as they sipped from delicate glasses of liqueurs and a long polished wooden bar ran the width of the back wall.
This whole foreign scene hit the astonished Asari like a hammer blow and they stood rooted to the spot in the dimly lit atmosphere. Then someone noticed them and silence fell, with every eye turning to look at them, not hostile, but wary. It was broken suddenly by a stocky, round ear with short dark hair and a goatee, dressed in a dark red shirt and brown pants with some kind of leather apron thrown over top.
He came around from around the bar and stood slightly defensively in front of the commandos, a large meatal club swinging from his belt, mostly likely as a deterrent for rowdy customers. “Greetings travelers, I am Marcus Arvantius, what brings you to my establishment?” he asked, the tension in the room palpable as they waited for the answer.
The other commandos looked at Ava who braced herself and stepped forward “We’re looking for drinks” she told them and the tension drained away, a large smile usurping the owners face.
“Well then you’ve come to the right place then!” he cried gesturing to the bar. “Just tell me what you want or I can give you ladies some suggestions” he told them leading the way.
That was how the five Asari commandos found themselves sitting with massive tankards of a drink called “mead” and a plate of some kind of meat skewers they were told was horker (which they were assured was stripped of its magica so as to not kill them and both of which were delicious), watching the two contestants across the hall slam back tankard after tankard of mead until the green skin slumped off his bench and the winner staggered upright grinning through his the braids in his hair that swung around his face. “Hail Alphard!” the audience yelled.
Soon they had finished their first Tankard of the addicting drink and were working their way through their second, blissfully unaware of the beverage’s extremely high alcohol content.
Silence fell as the winner heaved himself up onto the wide table, swaying there like a sailor on the deck of a heaving ship. He grinned at them all and raised his now refilled drink “A song!” he bellowed loudly over the din and everyone cheered. Silence fell and everyone stared at the would-be performer, the musicians standing by as they watched.
He took a deep breath, staggered, opened his mouth and began. “Oh there once was a hero named Ragnar the red.”
He warbled in a slightly slurred voice, the Asari looked at each other in confusion “who came ridding to Whiterun from ole’ Rorikstead” he hiccupped and took a swig as they crowd grinned at each other while the musicians stuck up a rather rollicking tune.
“And the braggart did swagger and brandish his blade as he told of the battles and gold he had made.” The singer was really warming up to it now, grinning like a madman, there were some cheers and more drinking.
“But then he went quiet did Ragnar the red, When he met the shield maiden Mathilda who said” he grinned and gestured at a blond woman sitting a little ways down the table with his tankard which slopped some mead over the rim.
She grinned and leaping up on the table continued “Oh you lie and you swagger and drink all our mead. Now I think it’s high time that you lie down and bleed” she grinned and the commandos exchanged looks that showed their uncertainty.
“Then came a great clashing and smashing of steel as the brave lass Matilda charged in full of zeal” the man sang and the woman grabbed a fistful of shirt and hauled the male closer.
“Then the braggart named Ragnar was boastful no more…” the woman sang and raised her mug while the other hand still held his shirt.
The whole room slammed their tankards down and bellowed the last line “WHEN HIS UGLY RED HEAD ROLLED AROUND ON THE FLOOR!”
The female dragged the male closer and delivered a passionate kiss, while the room whooped and wolf whistled at the now beet red Nord who grinned and dropping his now drained mug threw the laughing woman over his shoulder and sprinted from the door, all signs of drunkenness forgotten.
The whole room laughed before turning back to their now quieter drinking and laughter while the music commenced again. “They sing about beheading people? Then run out to have sex? What kind of savages are these people?” Elenora asked around her glass.
“They’re Nords” came the reply from behind her. The maiden jumped and turned, her biotics flaring sloppily as the high alcohol content of her drinks made themselves known.
A short female with dusky blue skin, black hair and glittering red eyes stood behind them in fatigues and a short sword stood behind them with a tall glass filled with a sparking green liquid “Nords?” Asked Ava curiously, noting idly that the Nirnian was rather pretty, with her sharp features, and red eyes… and her blue skin…. Stop it Ava. She mentally slapped herself.
“A people with a proud warrior history from our northern province of Skyrim… this bar is based off of a Nord mead hall. Through the music tonight is Khajiiti and Redguard” she slid into the seat next to Ava, who much to her embarrassment blushed like a maiden of two hundred rather than her actual respectable age
of six centuries.
“This is where we celebrate some of our less refined traditions, so in this place, don’t judge. Just eat drink and be merry. For battle will come, whether its tomorrow or in ten years.” The female told them before drinking deeply.
“Yeah but it just seems so barbaric” Elenora slurred, taking a deep drink. “But I bet I could take one of your brutes in a drinking contest. I’m an Asari commando!” the maiden bragged “we’re the best in the Galaxy”.
The Nirnians eyebrows rose. “Oh really?” well then, I’ll take you up on that challenge.” She threw back her drink and stood. “Mead Slam!” she bellowed toward the soldiers who crowded around to see.
Three huge casks of the liquor were placed on the table and the others gathered round. “Who’s the whelp” a massive Nord with long black hair and a braided beard asked, eyeing up the now bewildered maiden and her compatriots.
“Some hotshot Asari commando, the terror of Council space” the Pointy ear said mockingly.
“Ha!” and she’s going against an N7?” the giant asked laughing. “She’s doomed” observed and short yellow haired round ear female.
Ava shook her head and watched the competition begin.
The Pointy ear who introduced herself as Asha, drank and drank and drank, she was still going when Elenora slid under the table giggling, she was still going as she drank each and every one of the Asari republic’s finest commandos under the table, and she was still going when they woke up, got thoroughly drunk and went on a tear that would have made Sanguine proud.
All the while two princes smiled in the background, and a staff appeared near the revelers.
Her head ached, no scratch that, there were no words in the Asari language to describe the pain she was feeling and her moth felt like some kind of reptile had been using it for a nest.
A groan escaped her lips and a voice boomed nearby “Ahh looks like ones waking up. Better grab the bucket Shar.”
Footsteps smashed away and she groaned again trying to reach up and cover her ear holes.
“Now, now, princess don’t be like that… she’s just going to get you some necessities” the voice yelled more quietly.
The footsteps came back “I must say I like those tattoos… Garm’s work?” it asked in a gratingly high pitched voice.
“Yup, must say, never though I’d see someone get those done it that spot without anesthetic. But hey, mead can do wonders for pain.” The other voice rumbled with laughter.
She shivered, why did she feel so cold? “Better cover her up, do you remember where her clothes went?” the higher voice asked moving away.
“Dunno think it was near the lake” the deeper one answered.
Something warm and soft draped over her and she sighed “Mmfff, ead” she muttered as the pounding in her head increased and she curled up tighter.
“Open your eyes princess…. Its past dawn and you can’t stay here forever, there’s a walk of shame to be done yet” the voice told her while a soothing hand patted her shoulder.
With a titanic effort she pried her lids apart and was greeted by the blurry view of the fake rafters of the Nirnian mead hall.
Slowly memories came back, the contest, drinking more of that addictively sweet mead. Slamming back tankards in a… her mind shied away from those painful memories, they hurt too much.
Others surfaced and she turned her head to see the forms of her squad passed out nearby. Dancing seductive to that exotic music, making out with a blue skinned pointy eared male in a corner like a maiden.
A view of the Presidium? She frowned at that memory.
Bellowing along to the lyrics of a song about a lusty Argonian Maid? And whilst walking on… goddess, was that the embassy roof?
That and the memory involving something called a goat? What in the name of the goddess was a goat? More to the point where had it come from?
The image of Asha wielding a staff with three faces came to mind.
That and the memory of a Nirnian in beige robes shaking a fist at her with the words, profane, temple,
sacred and Dibella floating to her?
She groaned and felt something slide on her chest. A quick glance revealed a circular amulet made of gold metal with a blue stone in the center. The effort was too much and she let her head fall back to the floor.
What had she done last night?
“They did WHAT?” Tevos screeched looking at the morning news on her console in the privacy of her own
There on the extranet for all too see was one of the Asari republic’s best commando squads on the Presidium… Naked.
“Goddess” she groaned, reaching for the tea, It was too early for alcohol, mores the pity.
What in the name of Athame were those creatures wandering around the Presidium?
They were everywhere, and in one case one had turned into a rather traumatised Turian.
She scrolled through the report and winced…
How could they do that? Or THAT? Goddess she didn’t even think an Asari could bend that way!
She lowered her head and gently knocked it against her desk… I was far too early for this.
She sat up and braved the next article. Big mistake, she screamed, falling away from her console in shock, her tea cup falling to the floor and smashing.
Oh goddess she could never unsee that…
She whimpered and curled up into a ball. Those commandos would never be able to show their faces in Council space for at least three hundred years. She uncurled a fraction and reached for her Omni-tool, she needed to do damage control.
Tevos called up the Nirnian ambassador, who answered with a smile “Ah councillor, I was wondering when you would call… rather amusing night wasn’t it?” She asked, her golden eyes twinkling.
“What n the name of the goddess happened?” Tevos demanded, shaking to keep from swearing.
“It appears that you have been the most resent victims of a Wabajack attack.” Tevos blinked at the ambassador who appeared to be fighting to keep a straight face.
“A what attack?” The Asari demanded.
“Well judging by the plethora of cows, pigs, chickens, the occasional horse and Mudcrab, I would say that someone took the Wabajack out for a spin.”
Galeyal’s efforts at gravity came to naught at the expression on the councillors face as she dissolved into a very undignified fit of giggles, sliding out of view as she succumbed to the hilarity of the situation and fell into paroxysms of laughter.
A massive golden ship entered into the Aralakh system in a blaze of Meridia’s light.
On board Silonvun [silver tongue] sighed and shifted his bulk. He was a blood dragon with deep storm cloud grey scales a talent for diplomacy, a massive gleaming white helm that sat on his head, denoting his status as ae Voice of the Queens, and he was about to enter into negotiations with the Krogan.
From what he had heard, this would be no easy task as the Krogan had no central government and so would have to be convinced to clean up their act before any progress could be made thought their highly militaristic culture was reminiscent of the Nords before the unification. But he was immortal and patient not to mention that he had heard of there being a plethora of interesting prey on this planet.
A smaller transport flashed into existence and a gravelly voice demanded over the comms “What do you want?”
“We are here as ambassadors of the empire to see if the Krogan can be negotiated with.” Silonvun replied in an expressionless voice. “Name yourself laniik [questioner] and tell us your purpose” he continued.
There was silence for a moment before “I am Urdnot Wrex, and I’m here to see if my people are worth saving.” The voice answered sounding more subdued.
“Then our goals are similar Urdnot Wrex. I invite you aboard my ship The Sos Viing [blood wing] so we may have tinvaak [conversation]” Silonvun offered, absently scratching his side with a wing with his tail.
“Sure why not” the Krogan Urdnot Wrex grunted “Wrex out.”
The little transport moved jerkily into the Sos Viing’s docking bay and when Wrex stepped out he was greeted by the sight of three heavily muscled Nirnians in close cut military uniforms consisting of tight black trousers, knee high shiny black boots and a tailored black jacket with the seams done in red or green edging.
“Urdnot Wrex?” the one in front with long red hair and round ears asked looking at the Krogan.
“Who’s asking?” the mercenary asked crossing his arms and glaring at the alien. “Commander Rorik Far-strider, I’m here to take you to Voice Silonvun.”
Wrex snorted and uncrossed his arms, “fine, lead the way” he grunted and followed the three aliens through the oversized hallways. Wrex looked at the twenty foot tall ceilings and eighteen foot wide halls and shook his head. Just how big did these Nirnians get? He wondered.
This question as answered when he was shown into a large circular chamber in the center of the ship that was approximately the size of the hanger bay.
Inside a creature the size of a small thresher maw covered in deep grey scales shifted its bulk. Turning its massive head in his direction and fixing him with a large amber eye, a large white metal plate sat on it broad head in between the long horns that curved back towards its body and it shifted its two wings.
“Drem Yol Lok Urdnot Wrex of the Krogan. I am Silonvun of the Nirnian Empire” the beast said in a deep voice that thrummed with hidden power.
Wrex blinked and quickly squashed the instinct to kill this beast before it could kill him, a residual instinct from evolving on Tuchanka. “Hi” he grunted at the dragon. “So what do you want to talk to me about” he asked, getting straight to the point.
Silonvun bared its fangs in what could be considered a smile if you really tried hard. “You wish to save your people from the plague called the Genophage do you not?” he asked Wrex in a serious voice.
“Yeah” Wrex answered folding his arms.
“Then I have a proposition for you on behalf of the queens of the empire. If the Krogan can prove that they can maintain a stable and peaceful society, then we shall set our best alchemists to cure your plague. You wish to see our people free and flourishing, then we give you this challenge. Unite your people in peace and show us that they will use the gift of the cure wisely, if you pass, then we shall continue negotiations with the Krogan people as a sovereign nation.”
Wrex was astounded at this challenge. But he frowned. “You are telling me that if I can get the Krogans act together, you will help cure the Genophage?” he asked, a small seed of hope blooming in his chest.
The dragon nodded its massive head. “Geh, that is correct. Do you accept?” he asked.
A fire seemed to have been lit in the warlords red eyes. “Hell yeah” he answered. “I need to get down there now so if you excuse me, I’ll be in touch.” He told the dragon who nodded again.
“Mul yossu ven Kendov [warrior] Urdnot Wrex.” The dragon replied, inclining his head. Rorik was back and led him through the halls to his ship. Wrex was heading towards his homeworld as fast as the ship could go, there was hope for his people.
Wrex stood at the sorry excuse for a space port on Tuchanka. The place looked exactly like how he had left it. Bleak and depressing. The shattered bones of a dying world.
He shrugged, Time to find out if hope as possible.
He turned and began to walk toward Urdnot territory. The guard who challenged him were mere whelps, their inexperience showing in their stances and their eyes. “Who dares enter the territory of clan Urdnot?” the
one on the left demanded levelling his shotgun at Wrex.
The battle scared mercenary snorted at their challenge “I am Urdnot Wrex and I’m here to claim my birthright as Leader of clan Urdnot” he snarled at the whelp.
“Wreave is our clan leader, he’ll tear you apart.” The other sentry told him with laughter in his tone.
“Then I issue a challenge, summon the clan and announce me.” He ordered, head-butting the youngster so hard he was knocked out by the older Krogan’s blow.
Shaking the other sentry scampered off to inform the clan of a challenger.
Wrex looked down at the young Krogan he had just knocked unconscious and sighed, he was going to have his work cut out for him.
“They’re ready for you” the sentry was back, brown eyes staring at Wrex with a little bit of awe and mingled fear.
“Good” Wrex snorted and stomped into the decrepit remains of the building complex that housed the males of clan Urdnot.
“Who challenges the clan leader the clan shaman asked from where he stood, barring Wrex’s advance.
“I Urdnot Wrex, I have come to reclaim my place as leader, I claim this by right of birth.” He roared the ritual words.
The Shamans dark eyes looked him up and down “It is good to see you Wrex, But you gave up you claim, why return?” he asked more quietly.
“If I can unite the Krogan, then I can get us the cure for the Genophage, the conditions are, build the Krogan into a stable society and prove we can be a people again, do this and the Nirnians will give us the cure.” Wrex told the shaman, a fire of determination now burning in his eyes.
“A cure” the Shaman breathed. “Then I wish you good luck and strength. Wreave has all but destroyed our clan with his greed and foolishness.” The Shaman told him stepping aside bellowing “His claim is valid, the challenge shall proceeded.”
Wrex strode proudly into the main hall to see his brother lounging on a throne. “You gave up your claim to the leadership when you left Wrex!” Wreave bellowed from his perch, sneering like an Asari Wrex thought.
“I have a reason so come down and fight me. Or better yet just give me the throne. I have found a way to rebuild our people. The cure for the Genophage is within our reach if we can only get our shit together” Wrex bellowed back.
“You lie!” Wreave growled at him. The Genophage can’t be cured. You’re just trying to steal what if rightfully mine!”
Wrex growled at this statement and his eyes began to fill with blood lust. “You stand there on a throne you have not earned” he challenged, “Your arrogance and greed has reduced Urdnot from a mighty clan to one on the brink of extinction. You are not fit to rule so face me, or are you a coward” he challenged, sneering at his brother.
With a roar of outrage, Wreave threw himself off his throne at Wrex and would have smashed into the scarred warlord if Wrex had not stepped to the side and delivered an punishing blow to the side of his rivals head as he steamrolled past.
The force of the blow sent Wreave staggering sideways as he roared again, this time in pain and fury, charging again.
The two titans clashed with a force that made the ground shiver. The grappled at each other, blows raining on each other like hammers striking a hot iron.
Wrex pulling back his head and smashing his heavily plated brow against Wreave’s. The force of the blow staggered them back and Wreave landed a blow on Wrex’s jaw. Wrex felt bones crack and he snarled, lunging forward and bowling Wreave over with his momentum.
He rode his brother to the ground and began to pummel him with both fists. Smashing the others face over and over again, blood spraying against him from where his claws had punctured the thick hide.
Wreave bucked on the ground, dislodging Wrex and jumping to his feet, slashing out with his claws and adding another trio of scars to the red Krogans face.
The fight continued with the two almost evenly matched; until Wrex managed to catch Wreave in a choke hold, squeezing the life from him like a constrictor.
But even as his vision greyed, Wreave fought, shredding the skin on Wrex’s right arm as he clawed at the appendage.
Wrex roared in pain and blood lust before he lifted his brother’s neck up and twisting it violently. A crunching, snapping sound was heard throughout the massive hall.
Not yet finished Wrex spun his Brother’s now limp body and dug his fingers in just under Wreave’s jaw. He roared savagely as he gave a mighty heave and ripped his brother’s head from his shoulders. A fountain of blood spewed from the severed neck, bathing Wrex in gore.
He held the head triumphantly over his head and bellowed “I am Urdnot Wrex. I am your Chieftain and I shall drag us into the light by force if I must.” With this he hurled the head away from him and roared again, he made quite a sight, seven feet tall and bathed in the blood of his foe, the image of a Krogan warrior.
The Warriors of clan Urdnot roared with him, showing their support for their new chieftain. Wrex smiled grimly, today was the first signs of the dawn that would herald the end of his people’s nightmare.
Migrant Fleet- Ayrenn
Ayrenn was just about ready to start screaming in frustration, that or bang her head against a bulkhead until the metal broke.
The Quarians and the Geth had made no head way what so ever in the nine hours that these negotiation (if they could be called that) had been going on. Finally she couldn’t take it anymore.
“Enough!” She bellowed through the arguments among the conclave “What do the Geth want as a species?” she demanded, turning to the communication cloud that showed Plethora.
“We desire to grow and learn as a race. We wish to better understand Organics” The Geth told them, the flaps on its head twitching like eyebrows.
Ayrenn turned to the conclave “I assume that it is a safe guess to say that your race simply wants their homeworld back?” she demanded. Glaring at the suborn war mongers who shifted uncomfortably.
There was the meek sounds of assent and she turned back to the communication cloud.
“I have an offer. The Geth leave Rannoch for the Quarians and take up residence in a system on the edge of Imperial space far away from most organics. That way the Geth get left alone and the Quarians get Rannoch back.” She paused “is this an acceptable compromise?” she asked and there was silence as the Geth built consensus.
“We have reached consensus, the Geth find this course of action acceptable. We can begin evacuation almost immediately “Ayrenn nodded and turned to the Quarians.
“There, was that so hard?” she asked them, calming down. “Now then, the empire stands ready to help with resettlement and Geth relocation. Can we assume then that this whole business of war and genocide is now over and done with?” She asked the conclave who sat in shocked silence, staring at her as if she had spontaneously grown another head.
The orange suited admiral stood up, and addressed Ayrenn “Yes, we thank you voic…” she was interrupted by a purple and black swirl of energy which deposited a surprisingly stern looking Sheogorath.
His entrance was heralded with cries of shock and surprise from the Quarians, marines drew weapons and trained them on the mad Daedra whilst quarantine lights flashed and airlocks slammed shut locking the council chamber down.
“Lord Sheogorath, What are you doing here?” Ayrenn asked, well more demanded, only just remembering to bow as a Voice would, not the queen who regularly had tea with this particular prince. Slowly the Quarians lowered their weapons seeing as the being had made no threatening moves and the Nirnians seemed completely unconcerned about danger.
“Oh don’t lord Sheogorath me Girly.” He told her sternly, his eyes glinting with mischief and madness.
“I don’t know what you mean my lord” she said, trying to signal the Daedra to drop it.
“You had best be truthful with these good people now, Meridia’s orders” He told her, an insane light in his yellow eyes.
The mention of her not being truthful had Ayrenn suddenly being lit up with various laser sights from the several hundred guns that were trained on her. This caused her Blades to spring into action, dragging her into the center of their group and forming a barrier. People were shouting, threats were being bandied about and all the while Sheogorath laughed. “Everyone Calm down NOW!” Ayrenn shouted, and silence fell. She forced her way through her guards and staring at the mad god before her. “Since when are you Meridia’s errand boy?” she demanded, forcing herself to ignore the danger.
“Owed her a favor and she said she’d reward me well… if you know what I mean” he answered giving the queen a lewd wink which caused all the Nirnians to shudder at that thought.
“Keep it to yourself Sheo.” Ayrenn groaned, “and do I have to tell them?” she asked, sounding a little like a petulant child.
“If you don’t I’ll take away your Wabajack privileges away for a decade” he told her, grinning.
She blanched under her helmet “fine” she pouted, turning back to the agitated Conclave. “I was not truthful about my identity. I am not a mere voice, my full title it Ayrenn II Erenwyn Slyvania Alkinus, Queen of the Altmer, and Queen of the Nirnian empire.” She said it as if it were of no consequence and glared at the god who smiled and vanished in another swirl of purple.
“You are the queen of the empire?” the green admiral asked, “I am so sorry you ma…” he and the others began to hurriedly bow, fearing that their chance to retake Rannoch had been destroyed by their threatening her at gun point.
“If you all start bowing the Treaties are off.” She snarled at him, and the Quarians quickly froze before hurriedly sitting again. She put her face in her palm for a second before looking up and addressing the assembly. “Let me explain. I’m here because our goddess of life and light called in a favour. I had to broker peace between you two because the Geth fall under her jurisdiction having developed souls.”
She was cut off by an uproar from the Quarians and a series of questioning clicks from Plethora. She face palmed and began to explain.
Several hours and a peace treaty later, she stumbled into her chambers and collapsed onto her bed, still in her suit. “Well that could have gone better.” She muttered to herself before falling blissfully into the soft shadows of sleep.
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