Prelude Story: Kathrandar's Rising Claws

[t3xx3r]

Kathrandar's Rising Claws
A Prelude
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NOTE: All Felinoids speak K'ath'sri. Assume from the human's viewpoint that they are meowing.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

144 Tribes of Kathrandar
Empire of Soveredyn
Capotanei Fleet Dynamics Autonetics​

"K'an'jhar!" a large felinoid, ornate with silky robes, hissed, grabbing a younger felinoid from a falling pipe. They quietly cough... Fires burning all around them. The larger felinoid licks the younger's head, then sinks its claws into it's back. It races across the hallways with catlike grace, slinking around.

More smoke. More fires. BOOM! The ship tumbled a bit. "M'rasha!" another felinoid, this one heavily armored, stumbled into the hallway from a burning room. More hissing followed.

"S'karr!" The ornately dressed felinoid looks to the windows. What she saw was a crippling explosion, part of the hull's wing starting to tear. She looked up to see a very large powerful battlecruiser, draped in white.

It starts to push twin turrets out of its broadside.

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"The filthy Kathrandar is almost done for, Lord Executor!" a golden armored captain bowed before a muscular, gigantic of a man. The Lord Executor was draped in blood red cape, his armor a mix of gold and red. His helmet's visor bore the shape of a crucifix while his battle standard on his back bore a larger crucifix draped in blood of former enemies.

"Good. The filthy cats can die..." The Lord Executor snarled.

The Captain took it as his cue. He turned and left. He raised his hand at the gunnery officer and flicked his finger to the left.

The powerful canons pushed out of the broadside slowly. Then came the powerful blasts. The powerful blasts shot out, arcing out. The shaking cannons pushed back inside, quaking from the powerful g-force.

The Lord Executor gazes upon the battle screen. He whispered, "May the Lord of Blood drown them in the Lake of Blackish Blood! Kathrandar soon will be no more!"

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"Lord Architect," a portly man in a suit with a white sash extends his arm.

The Lord Architect approached the portly man, slapped his arm and twisted clockwise in unison. "Wealth be upon us all."

"Wealth be upon us all..." the portly man smiles, "I received an unique report. Something that may give us the benefit in this war against the Soveredyn Empire."

"Is Sheralynd Fiefdoms not enough?"

"They fund us well but they are starting to show signs of war exhaustion. It won't be long before their economy plunges."

"Then it seems they will end their contract sooner than prolong their protracted war against the Soveredyn. Do they have allies to help fund their needs?" The Lord Architect turns to the plastisteel windows, gazing out into the stars.

"A few but they do not have the necessary funds to continue the operation on the new design, Norellis," the portly man sadly smiled, just behind the Lord Architect. "However... I also received something. Something in the form of a holo-vid. Crude, makeshift, but it seems it bears the logo of an empire we do not yet know of."

"Play it," The Lord Architect then turned, walking toward the end of the conference table. The portly man nodded, stepping toward the center of the conference table. He kneeled, placing the holovid inside the projection. He backs away.

The holo-vid slowly fizzed, crackled.

"*hiss* Mrr..." *translation program kicking in* "Esteemed... Builder of Stars. I... I am M'rasha, one of the 144 Matri-Seer, Helper and Giver to the Pure Scion, the 144 Tribes of Kathrandar. This is my General S'karr. We come with greetings, a gift, and a request. We are seeking one of the best master builders to help us. We have heard of this "Capotanei Fleet Dynamics Autonetics" through back channels. We are in need of new ships to help us defeat this accursed race. A race that believes in blood, skinning us, and eating us as if we are... what's the word, S'karr?"

"Chakk'osa!"

"Yessss! Chakk'osa! We do not have monies like the other empires have but we have an abundance of ores and materials that may help you. We hear that you are very..."

"Driven to excellence," S'karr filled in.

M'rasha speaks, "Help us and we will repay you in kindnessssss...."

*holo-vid ends* "144 Tribes of Kathrandar... Aren't they cats?"

"They don't like to be called cats last I checked," a lean man enters the conference, donning a blue uniform with a purple sash over his shoulder. "They consider themselves to be a very aggressive race when provoked but generally their demeanor is graceful and calm in peaceful relations. They do not have a lot of wealth but they do have a lot of ores and materials. Making an contract with Kathrandar would no doubt bring the Soveredyns to us. It might alarm other potential buyers such as Sherelynd Fiefdoms. They're a bunch of overly sensitive nobles and lords who would panic over anything remotely alien."

The Lord Architect chuckled. "Of course. I know what they're like. What's the market on the ores and materials right now? You're the Maester after all."

"Yes, as the maester, of course," the lean man nodded, bowing slightly in respect, "The market's going strong. Despite the fact Sherelynd's starting to tighten their economy, a prediction of a collapse is imminent. Not only that, ores and materials they seek along with the other empires will have no doubt a very hefty price in the coming cycles."

"Wealth be upon us all..." The Lord Architect smiled. "Then, Kathrandar's friendly?"

"I've met some of them back in my old days. They are generally friendly, are tightly knit among all 144 tribes and hardly has ever had a civil war. However, they are excellent warriors, dancers, artisans. You'd do well to steer clear of calling them cats, kitten, or any other names we've come to know in regards to our pets. Other than that, since we have an abundance of milk, relations with them will be easy to handle."

The Lord Architect stood there quietly... "Excellent. Formalize our contract with Kathrandar. Have them draft up their ship requests."

The portly man grimaced. "The Soveredyns are not going to like it once they hear of this."

The Maester smirked, "Coming to our orbital station is like asking a trojan horse to enter the gates undetected. With our upcoming designs, they wouldn't dare encounter our ships."

The portly man gaped, "What designs?"

The Lord Architect smiled, "Designs that we've begun to approve for our own personal use. A private fleet if you will. I've got names for them. Would you like to hear them?"

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END OF PRELUDE​