Imvia’roshya Star System, on planet Emkal’roshya within the Alliance city of Aeras Daramai Speaker Isle, Chief Speaker's Office Heavy drops of rain pattered on the window, drumming against pristine pexiglass before streaking down. Towering, deep gray clouds hovered high above, lightning sparking between them. Thunderous booms rolled across the city after each one. Garim sighed before pushing away from his desk and the scattered papers strewn about it. “All this rain. Feels like every day,” He grumbled to himself as he snatched his delicately carved walking staff from its perch against the wall, his blunt claws clutching the sturdy piece as he rose to his feet. He hobbled over to the window, casting his steady gaze out at the lake. The usual blue-green water was foaming as ripples shattered its usual calm. A handful of dense, blocky buildings hugged the waterline, uniformly spaced from one another. On the other end, a much taller structure shaped like a crescent moon. He could make out a few Raiken hurrying along the street, most disappearing inside the various embassies-to-be, but he picked out one striding directly towards him and although he couldn’t quite make them out, he was sure they were looking up at his window. “Here she comes again,” Garim chuckled before turning away from the window and scanning his spacious office. He still hadn’t spent much time decorating it, but a handful of his favorite talestones rested on a long sidetable, along with a few choice trophies from his younger years. A patch of gray, scaled Urvak hide. A tooth from a Delar Vurok. He hefted the tooth with a chuckle, inspecting the cracked brown surface for a moment before setting it back within its simple display. Other than the usual Alliance fare, a scale shaped flag pinned to the wall and a simple bookshelf filled with rows of manuals and lawbooks, and his squat desk with assorted cabinets behind it, the square office was bare. Garim waddled back to his desk and sank into his high-backed chair, letting his heavy tail flop on the ground while he worked on organizing some of the papers on his desk, tucking some of them away into the drawers. He was clipping a set of ambassador requests together when a knock rang out from his door. Garim set the stack of papers down and checked his RACTAG, noting the soft blue status lights adorning the top, along with a few red flashes. He swiped his claw across the glass screen, grimacing at the ‘missed transmissions’ notification at the top. All of them were marked with ‘Sayril’. “She’s really going to let me have it this time,” He muttered to himself before calling out. “You may enter.” His office door flew open as if the winds outside had entered the building themselves. Sayril stormed in, claws clacking on the Ironscale floor with each step while her still drenched robes fluttered behind her, handcannon swinging in its holster. She marched up to his desk and slammed her palms down, sending a stack of papers cascading down to scatter across the desk, a deep frown adorning her perpetually scorn filled visage. “Garim Delrasu Oathbinder. If you refuse to answer my transmissions, I cannot perform my duties as your assigned bodyguard. I have told you this several times, yet you continue to ignore them,” She started. Garim met her burning silver eyes for a few seconds before closing his and nodding his head. He raised a hand and she immediately ceased speaking. “Sayril… Relatir, of the Silent Vigil, I can take care of myself. The message hasn’t been out long. Only the Dralu, Rorin, and Carnin have sent their speakers, so there isn’t any danger.” Garim nodded towards her before dropping his hand and straightening up the fallen papers. Sayril sucked in a deep breath before drawing her hands off his desk and standing straight. “I understand that the other outsiders haven’t arrived, but those three aren’t to be left to their own devices. They’d drive a dagger in our neck if our backs were turned.” She claimed before letting her gaze fall on him. “And, I am still required to keep an eye on you. ” She turned her head and scoffed under her breath. “Regrettably.” “Regrettably? You are part of a fortunate few that will witness history in the making,” He proclaimed before gesturing towards the collection of talestones. “Sages will tell stories of this for ages to come. Intelligent life as capable as we are, if not more so.” Sayril paused, studying Garim with an arched brow before crossing her arms across her chest, her pale hands clenched into thick fists, her expression growing hard. “The sages will say these are the days we became complacent. We thrive because we are strong, yet we call these outsiders to speak as equals with us without testing them? A disgrace,” She spat. Garim shook his head and rose to his feet before drawing part of his robe to the side, exposing his brown plated chest, marked with countless delicate inscriptions carved into his scales. One of his digits pointed squarely at his breast, where the largest two resided. “We do not thrive because we are strong, Sayril. A single Raiken is nothing. We thrive because together, we are strong,” He lectured before drawing his robes closed, concealing the countless oaths etched on his body, although his arms and legs were still littered with inscriptions. Garim allowed himself to fall into his chair once more, keeping his gaze steady as he watched her. Sayril frowned, but relented, letting her arms fall to her sides before bowing her head. “I apologize for disrespecting you so, Oathbinder Garim.” Garim nodded and waved his hand in a small circle. “I understand you are not keen on speaking or working with outsiders and you are not alone. Plenty of our kind see this situation as you do, but the Alliance has decided that our best course of action is to establish relations with them and I agree with their decision. We can ill afford to repeat our mistakes with the Carnin.” “I know what the Alliance has decided, Garim,” Sayril started, her tail dragging along the floor behind her, one hand still clenched into a tight fist. “But we still haven’t dealt with the ones we know. They cause trouble nearly every week. Have you heard about what happened down in the Hive District? Three warriors missing with the trail ending at one of those forsaken holes. Garim, those mindless bugs ate them,” She finished, her voice climbing with each word. “And a fitting punishment will be delivered after the investigation,” Garim inserted. “What? So their queen can just replace however many drones we decide to kill? That isn’t justice Garim,” Sayril shot back. “Sayril, you know that is a Protectors matter, it’s out of my control. My assignment is to speak with their speakers and work out treaties, not debate what the Protectors should do about this and that,” He reminded her before letting out a drawn out sigh and reaching over for the stack of official requests regarding diplomat assignments. “Now, I have business to attend to. Outsiders are expected within the orbit and they’ll need places to conduct their own work,” He said while nodding towards the door. “Take your leave.” Sayril hesitated, her hands still tightened into tight fists. She relented and bowed her head. “As you wish, elder Garim,” She muttered before turning on her heel and storming out the door. Garim watched it close automatically before returning his attention to the papers in front of him. “And I’ll pay more attention to my RACTAG,” He murmured to himself.
Speaker Isle, Within the Far Star Speakers Chamber Garim paced around the sturdy, ironscale table, his walking stick clacking on stone tile with each step while his tail dragged along behind him. At the head of the mostly round table, on a slightly raised platform, was a high backed, spacious chair; a blend of wood and leather hides, its wave like arms ending in a round ball. In front of it, a small metal plaque had his name etched upon it, in Raiken runic, along with common. ‘Garim’. He was still getting used to seeing it like that. His gaze scanned the other seats huddled around the table, though many were noticeably smaller. Behind them, a series of benches in a semicircle, much like an amphitheatre, stretched for a few rows. Artificial braziers dotted the open room, their flickering glow glinting off their bronze cages. Garim released a long sigh, his body sagging as he plodded over to his chair, sliding into it while observing the empty room. “On behalf of the Raiconian Alliance, serving as Chief Speaker to those from Far Stars, do I welcome our visiting Speakers,” He mused aloud in common, albeit slurred as his tongue struggled to work the alien sounds. “Many words for a greeting,” He mumbled after in his native tongue. Garim had spent nearly three orbits studying ‘common’, the tongue most of these outsiders seemed to speak. A language of many intricacies and oddities. Something he wasn’t familiar with, even after studying the Dralu. The elder Raiken leaned back in his seat and brought up his RACTAG, sliding a blunt claw across the scratched display, which proceeded to flash the Alliance’s symbol before opening up the dashboard. With a few taps, Garim opened the archives of intercepted transmissions from the outsiders. There were thousands, all categorized by date and content, although through his own study, the supposed content didn’t always match up to what it was categorized as. He supposed whoever was tasked with keeping it organized didn’t care or didn’t have much experience with the outsiders. Garim skimmed through the latest catches, his brow furrowed as he listened and watched, attempting to catch every word and every expression. A news broadcast detailing the going-ons in a beachside city. A company report. A handful of ‘advertisements’ for various strange products. The latest race recap for something called ‘frame running’. Several others seemed to be imitations of real life, although the events within seemed far more dramatic than what seemed reasonable. Garim tapped his claws on his desk as he observed the sea of information and through it all, he wondered exactly what the outsiders were actually like. All their transmissions seemed random, contradicting one another to the point where it seemed none of them agreed with each other on anything. “But, they do have a lot more,” He mused aloud while watching another flashy, color filled not-life show called a ‘cartoon’. The Alliance’s RACTAG transmission network wasn’t nearly as active, nor filled with divisive content. The Alliance mainly used it for messaging and keeping their widespread bureaucracy intact. News reports and other such informative media, along with a few choice entertainments were broadcasted, but not much else. Garim rubbed his chin and returned his attention to the screen, watching a pair of unlikely heroes face off against what appeared to be a large lizard made entirely of red paper. “Mm. Still quite strange though,” He muttered as he watched on, lounging in the empty hall while rain pattered on the distant roof.
