The Dragonflower Nebula. One of the more constant themes of the Galaxy is Discovery. No matter which powers seize dominance across the stars, one truly never knows if they truly control it all. From the ancient Republic to the archaic Empire - nations have risen to be composed of thousands of worlds. Thousands. But not all. Today, in the post-Darkness reality, the discovery of new worlds is almost commonplace. Some simply stumble upon these uncharted gems by pure happenstance. Others diligently seek them out in the name of colonization or gathering resources.
Over the course of centuries, tensions and conflicts would tug at the seams of Melida/Daan. Her people, divided into two contrasting camps, always maintained a shaky peace with one another. At times, that peace would persist for decades. At others, strife would consume the entire world. From an outside perspective, it seemed as though the far flung planet would always be doomed to turn against itself. With every passing generation, new reasons to fight would arise - and blood would continue to spill.
Many members of the Confederacy had participated in the disturbing events that took place on Melida/Daan. There was a plague, a virus, of epic and apocalyptic proportions that had affected the capital city of Zehava. It was so terrible, so contagious, that the entire area became a Dark Zone. Many members of the CIS died in an initial crash, while many more, succumbed to the outbreak after landing in an attempt to find a lost research team. It was a difficult time for all involved. To make matters worse, due to the extremely high rate of infection, those that had either landed on the planet or had contact with any of the infected were quarantined in the medical wing of the Fortressa.
Eons ago, the mountains of Varro were a vastly different shape. Under the lordship of their ruling House, a city once stood proud between the spires. Yet, while the walls provided by their liege afforded warmth and safety, it was his brutality that saw them challenged. The wrath of rivals fell upon the city of Varro on one fateful day...and not a single stone survived. The walls were oblitered. The people burnt alive in their homes. And their liege executed before the eyes of many. This turbulent time was known as the War of Succession - and was easily the most vicious era of Ascension's history. The planet has spent centuries attempting to move away from this bloody past.
Though the Confederacy of Independent Systems loathed the word “Empire”, their Vicelord inspired them to turn a blind eye to the Mandalorian warmachine. Whether this was a bias based upon his own heritage or simply the refusal to extinguish Confederate lives in addressing this threat, none will ever know. However, the era of neutrality between the southern systems and the vode came to an abrupt conclusion. Eshan, the sovereign homeworld of the Echani race, was met with devastation at the hands of the Mandalorian Empire. Their casus belli was a paper-thin cause: to punish trillions of souls for the actions of a drastically small terrorist cell. The Empire unleashed hell upon the people of Eshan, bombarding their cities and cutting down their people in droves. It was in this moment that the Vicelord understood his folly in letting the past live – and by the tears shed by Exarch Talon at the plight of her people, one truth became reality. They would no longer suffer this Empire to live.
The green. Lively shades of bladed grass drifted and fluttered against the gentle winds in a synchronized unison. Pulsating invisible waves out stretching across the grassy plains that surrounded the densely populated cities on Atrisia, it was perfect harmony. Within the crowded trade districts itself various species shifted back and forth from hundreds and thousands of traders selling their goods. Bazaars, merchant tents and vendors galore; an endless sea of economic flow, credits and handshakes. A simple gesture, a handshake. A sign of good faith that accredited buyer and seller into mutual agreements of trade. Approximately every five to seven seconds such a gesture was exchanged and with it the endless legion of micro-organisms that went from species to species. Born to the very air, on every object and precious metal. As numerous as the sound waves that echoed all about and yet even smaller than this was something far more lethal.
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