06G, Familiar Embassy

Posts : 57 Join date : 2014-04-29

An under-maintained attachment of the Council station, its doors are opened almost as rarely as there is an official present within its premises. Its insides are lit only by generator lights and emergency beacons, containing nothing but a stairway from the entrance to the inner offices of the somewhat oversized complex. The entirety of the complex seems almost endless due to most faraway walls being unlit, its confinements unknown. There seem to be no real 'contents' of the embassy except for its main area, the offices, which consists merely of a few neglected diplomat offices with unutilized desks and chairs.

The embassy feels abandoned and dead, unlike the usual lively presence of a diplomatic establishment, seemingly contradicting its purpose. However, its mystery intrigues, and its doors are unlocked. Perhaps there is someone present?

Admin Posts : 92 Join date : 2014-01-14

The pair was dressed simply in neat black clothing. They wore no insignia, nor markings of any kind that denoted their nationality. Their hair was neat, and their eyes were a bright blue, and they moved fluidly towards the entrance of the Familiar embassy. The pair, simply known by their callsigns, Hood and Dagger, stopped to look around. Dagger kept looking away from the door, to see if they were being watched by anyone else.

"I don't think anyone is here,"

The door slip open before Hood and he peered inside the dimly lit, eerie embassy. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the hallways carefully for any sign of life, and to his surprise, he found none.

"And I don't think anyone is in here,"

Without a word they both entered the compound silently, closing the door behind them to avoid the gaze of anyone who might have been watching from outside. They begin walking through dead compound, and their hands rested on the grip of their HK MP10s that are hidden beneath their jackets. Diplomats rarely carried PDWs, especially foreign ones, and it could easily be seen by their movement that these weren't your average citizens. No, these two were members of the elite Black Suns. Here to simply conduct a little recon on their neighbors the Familiar, the two really weren't anticipating much, as the recon they had done on the compound the past few days had shown the place was practically empty. No one really knew much about the Familiar, but the Imperial wanted to find out, and they were looking for any sort of hints that could give them insight on this mysterious race...

Posts : 57 Join date : 2014-04-29

The two operatives, after passing through the rusted door, were instantly met with the aforementioned barely-lit stairs. The dark, vault-like stairway posed little hint as to the attributes of Familiar society, but it did, however, present a question: why did the embassy contain a stairway? Why have a construction solely intended for traveling across levels in height when the embassy seemed to contain only a small office hub and the stairway itself? Was there an underlying psycho-constructive intention? Whatever the case, the stairs held little architectural pointers as to the Familiar ways, nor did they show any specific constructional identity from a cultural standpoint-- the stairs containing nothing of significance besides the usual vague ceremonial inscriptions and minimalist shapes of no evident importance.

Once down the stairway, the office hub seemed the only possible direction to follow: a simple lounge as run-down, obscure, and dimly-lit as the rest of the complex, flanked by six tiny offices with a singular larger one at the end of it. One thing the office hub did differ in from the rest of the complex was the fact it felt small, as opposite to the subjectively endless, wall-less dungeons of the introductory stairway. The lounge held but a trio of darkened couches with a cracked coffee table in the middle, a shady mug on top of it. Beneath the table lay a stain of some sort.

Upon closer inspection, none of the six small rooms seemed to contain anything beyond oak-wooden desks with unfilled drawers and cushion-less chairs, as if decayed to an uncomfortable manifestation of incredible age. One of the six rooms did, however, hold a lamp of ancient technological concept; unplugged.

The larger office had the same interior as the others, except for one appalling difference: a painting on the wall opposite of the office's entrance, right behind the age-old desk:

The morbid presence engraved on the canvas gives off a grotesque aura that would make any human consider metaphorically emptying their bowels on first sight, and perhaps those of alien nature as well. No verbal collaboration of vocabulary could ever fully describe the painting's essence, but this was of little loss, as seemingly all those who viewed it felt it the same way. And while significant, the discovery shed remarkably little light upon the Familiar, if not covering them in shades even more.

While presumably captivated by the piece of 'art', an additional presence had joined the elites for unknown amounts of time (with the possibility lingering of the figure having been present all along): a Familiar, apparently the same which took place in the conference room earlier. He stands, calmly, behind the two accomplishes, as if waiting for something, as if preying on their backs, their spines, their hearts and minds.

A large part of his body is covered in dark (albeit thin and transparent) robes, beneath which resides a metallic and mirror-esque mechanical suit, effectively reflecting the small amounts of light within the office. The particular metal (and once again mirror-like) 'mask' of the figure is almost tribal in nature, carrying various ceremonial shapes with no apparent function but to impress aesthetically. However, the mask carries an odd aura to it-- something vague and arcane carried by its form, a feeling of existential sorrow and despair painted over its silvery surface. The 'expression' carried by the mask is that of hollow emptiness and departed existence; an impossible mixture of emotions, and yet, a lack of them altogether.

Interestingly, a certain dynamic 'twitch' is visible on the mask-- its variously shaped components mobilizing independently for what seems to be half a second each, to form differing 'expressions' of little productive meaning nor timely presence, almost as if uncontrolled by the being behind it. Collectively it can only be described as an uncomfortable and near-morbid sight of the aforementioned departed expression of the mask compulsively distorting into disfigured 'emotions' every few seconds, each for no more than half a second each.

The only thing that doesn't change are the mask's 'eyes': endless gaping pits of divinely white voids, beaming brightly as if emitting the purest of energies; those observing them nearly losing themselves in their confusing yet consuming apparatus. If anything, they feel lifeless-- but they are evidently not.

And so the Familiar remains, the only bodily movement being his twitching mask, interestingly producing no sound. He lingers statically, silently-- watching.

Admin Posts : 92 Join date : 2014-01-14

The agents would brood over the picture, before the ominous feeling of being watched would hit them both. The two would slowly turn around, each with one hand placed inside of their jacket. However, the two would remain extremely rigid, their self-discipline forcing them to hold their ground. For a moment the two would simply stair at the foreign creature. Dagger would then offer a small respectful nod before speaking.

"The Red Sun Imperium offers its greetings towards the Familiar,"

Posts : 57 Join date : 2014-04-29

The creature, now noticed by its guests, remained idle, besides the ever-present twitch engulfed within their mask. Eventually, after a 5-second pause it spoke in reply, absent of bodily language. The voice, ironically, felt unfamiliar; not just its chords, but its origin: as if the voice, while obviously coming from the Familiar, did not originate from its bowels; the air forming its noises not from its own lungs. As if something within its body was disturbed or unconventional, its mask's components continuing its twitching pattern while the voice uttered its words. The voice spoke with reverberating elegance, gently echoing through the room, although soft and quiet in vocalic demeanor; it felt light and respectable-- clean. But it also felt gender-less, and otherworldly. Something was off, something was wrong, but it was hard to assess what it was exactly that stroke the wrong chord, while the other vocal traits stroke right.

"Hello."

Posts : 57 Join date : 2014-04-29

(Bump. Please reply, Retro.)

Admin Posts : 92 Join date : 2014-01-14

The two would look uncomfortably towards each other quickly before they returned their gaze to the lone figure. The two soldiers would look very casual, however their stances both maintained a rigid position, they were ready for anything. This was not to say that they felt threatened by the Familiar, but simply their training had taught them to expect the unexpected. One of the agents reached his arm up and tapped a few times on a datapad strapped to his wrist before speaking.

"Our ambassador would like to speak with you, if that is possible. He can be here in a short amount of time."

It was clear these two weren't very comfortable as negotiators. They were trained to wage secret wars, not negotiate with foreign ambassadors. Their weakness was in their cold, unwelcoming voice. It even sounded almost computerized and artificial.

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