TESTIMONIUM

Let this be my testimony to you, that He protected me in my defenselessness - gave me strength in my weakness - gave me grace in my spitefulness - gave me words in my speechlessness - gave me salvation in my sinfulness - gave me rest in my restlessness - gave me knowledge in my stupidity - gave me everything in my nothingness and healed me in my brokenness. He and He alone sustains me. I am solely His. And when the time comes that He deems it bad for me to be alone, He shall provide that which I lack and that for which I was created to please, comfort, know, cherish, and love.

To that God I shall trust my future.

I thank you for her beauty, Lord, though I have not seen her at that time. That beauty which is yours alone to bestow, for to You all beauty must be described, for you alone are beautiful. All color. All light. All things wonderful. I thank you for that reflection of yourself in her.

I thank you for her calming spirit, Lord, though I have yet to taste its sweetest delight. That spirit that which can only come from You, Christ my King, in exact and wholesome beauty,which empowers and emboldens your Kingdom, myself included, for to You all softness and loveliness, gentleness and mercy owe their existence.

I thank You for her strength and justice, Father, which You lent her in her hour of need. Which reprimands and draws me closer to you, even though I stray from your face.

I thank you for forming her to my eyes' delight that I might behold Your reflection deep in her eyes, which compel me to worship your perfection.

I thank you, Lord, for her, not that I receive all these benefits from her, but that you would allow such wondrous and perfectly fallen beauty in this realm, at that time, in that place. I thank you that you have created a being such that I might serve you by serving her, revived to my service by the overwhelming, simplistic virtues that you so perfectly inscribed on her. Whenever I meet her, whether in past or in future, Father I have full confidence that you will reveal her to me as the one for which I was created to serve, to provide for as you provide for me, to love as you love me, and to walk with until the end of my days.

I trust myself to you, Lord, written this public place not that others would see me in new light, but that they might hold me to this charge which you have put on my heart.

- Sci

He left her where he met her last, there among the crowd. Her gaze reflected off him as he peered at her. He could not sense her presence as he approached. She was unintentionally stealthed from his sensors. As he embraced her that first time, ten feet from where he left her last, he did not feel her affection. She didn't melt at his touch much as he didn't melt at her gaze as he used to, even though he wanted to. Was it her, was it him, or was it simply the time and place?

Space. It's a novel concept. A realm of nothingness that is inevitably filled with wondrous adventures. One of these enumerable adventures is you, one is me, and one is the adventure of Sci, the Last Sparatan. Here is a glimpse:

A Sparatan SP-51 Sparfighter screeching through the idyllic desert skies. The JR-2300 plasmafan engine glows in front, while its various guns spew fire at the enemy.

[Sci's Datapad: Entry: SP-51 Sparfighter:

The SP-51 was primarily known for its use in the Solarian Great War which unified what is now known as the Desertae cluster, the solar system to which Sparata belongs. In this conflict, the SP-51 was the primary atmospheric fighter and escort craft for the larger Sparatan bombers, like the SR-17. The SP-51 had a surprisingly long lifepsan, however after the Solarian War, it was mostly used in reserve squadrons.

The SP-51 was one of the only plasmafan powered Sparatan crafts, as it was invented during the transition from physical turbofans to ionjet propulsion systems. The SP-51, while it was was spaceworthy, was mainly used in atmospheric combat due to it's distinct placing on the evolutionary track.

Though later SP-51 models, namely the SP-51p and SP-51s, were used in the super-orbital war of Kraeia, most pilots were trained and issued SP-86, SP-104, and SP-105 starfighters for the majority of the conflict.

Additionally, the Sparfighter had a distinctive sound due to it's rather dirty propulsi... [data corrupt]...]

Sketch - The Map of Second Age Mîrith

Far to the north and east of Spïra, on the very edge of the Acarian sea, lay the town of Rúmënor. Rúmënor was set in a bay, with razor sharp mountains ominously flanking three of it's sides with the sea as one of the only means of travel beyond the great knol of Arinor, which functioned as the only landside route into the town. Creating a third of a circle around the inside of the steep mountains, Rúmënor lay, one of the farthest northward villages in all of the kingdom of Ëorfel. rugged mountains and thick, nearly impassible forests expanded south from Rúmënor with but one fortress to see over many leagues of land. The fortress was that of Ënor, hidden off the small, winding Rúmënore road, just before the slope of hte mountains became too steep for building, and thus fairly close to the great gate of Arinor. The Ënore, great warriors of the halls of Ënor, protected the land from marauding bandits and vile creatures that permeated the forests, which came to be known as Meril'när. They are hardened warriors, trained to fight and win against unsurmountable odds. In this respect they outmatch even the expert soldiers of the Spïran army. The bay of Rúmënor was twisted at a slight angle, with the openning facing northwest. There many small towns sprinkled south, along the Rúmënore road, trickling off into greater Ëorfel, with the southernmost part of the road turning east, ending just before the great pass of Môrithain near the citadel of Fürleor. From Fürleor, the Ëorith road runs southwest, turning due south once again, running directly into Ëorfel itself from the north. Ëorfeln are hardy folk, having conquered life in the cold, far north reaches of Mîrith. In general, they have a love and respect for adventures and journeys like most other men have for gold or women. In fact, Ëorfeln rarely accept a man virility until he has completed a great quest or journey. Thus, in other parts of Mîrith, the fortress of Ënor is refered to as the "Heroes' Guild," with many great warriors from Spïra to Ûngil coming to train learn from the Ënore. It has been put forth that the Ëorfeln were indeed some of the earliest men, for they are stouter and stronger than other races. Their history is rich in adventure and great tales, of great heroes and terrible villains. Living on the edge of civilization, however, the Ëorfeln are often overlooked in political affairs and could even be considered isolated from the world of men, much as the bay of Rúmënor is from the rest of the land.

The crimson banner of Spïra wavered and fell. This would be the doom of the Republic, fallen to the imperial hordes of Tithäs. Separated from his army and his home, Spîros leapt with the strength only desperation could instill, through the thickening crowd of enemies. His heart raced, his mind ran as fast as his feet. With every step he made another impossible move, dodging, catching, overcoming every blow in his path. He never stumbled, never failed. He ducked, stabbing a captain in the gut before spinning around to block the next attack. He was the epitome tenacity, force and vigor. His unpredictable finesse and power flowed as if a river through the hordes of men that opposed him. Blood flowed free and dust rose up around the battle. Spîros jumped up, kicking an enemy in the chest to knock him down before impaling him with his own sword. Almost as if in a dream, Spîros fluidly ended all his foes. Spîros spun around, expecting to meet the enemy general face to face. But in his wake he saw only destruction - mauled bodies, open wounds, dark blood. He stood in his battle-poise for what seemed like an eternity. He could no longer hear his breath. The desolation of the scene took him. A chill ran down his spine. As he looked down, he saw the point of a spear protruding through his chest. His knees hit the ground as he looked closer at the blade.

Imprinted nobly on the tip was the Solaris Sparatæ. Vanquished by one of his own kind, he fell backwards, waiting for the end.

In the realm of Spïra, in the town of Ripätum, lived a small boy and his family. In the long grasslands near the sea, the boy would play and fantasize about his future under the overcast skies. Sometimes the boy saw himself becoming a valiant Rïtter, bringing justice to the many evils that infested the land. Others, the boy was a dark mage, summoning horrible creatures from their immortal graves to bring ruin to all. But what the boy could not see was his future and how powerful he would become. His name was Spiros, and a mighty warrior he was destined to be.

Spinning down a spider web
Watching everybody ebb
Never knowing what they hold inside.

Ripping through the atmosphere
Burning everything that's near
Holding to a hope that died ten thousand days ago.

Spinning down a spider web
Watching everybody ebb
Never knowing what they hold inside.

Tumbling my heart down the stairs
Wondering if she really cares
Never really knowing where the next turn is.

Spinning down a spider web
Watching everybody ebb
Never realizing what they hold inside.

When I hit bottom bin
Where will I look to then
Nowhere down but no way up

Where then am I going to?
Does my path lead right to you
Or are you just a marking stone?

Where then am I going to?
Does my path lead right to you
Or are you just a passing dream?

Battles you cannot win, foes you cannot spin

Blades that can't be stayed, fellowships that can't be made

The thoughts you think all day, the hopes that drift away...

Spir stepped off the transport. His feet were sore, his limbs were heavy. The battle had been a particularly costly victory. Many of his friends died in the siege of Dxun and many of his truest soldiers also returned in charred fragments. Spir exited from the backdoor of the transport to evade all of the senators and citizens that would swoon over him as a hero - he wasn't. He lost too many friends to be a hero. His heavy heart had only one reprieve - her. His heart smiled at the thought of her - her timeless beauty ringing through his mind, washing out even the terrors of war, quickened Spir's muddy, blood stained steps towards the Jedi Temple - his love for her driving him on.

He knew that when he walked in, battered but alive, his love would receive him with open arms, smothering him in the affection that she had stored over the last 15 months. He trudged as best he could into the elevator that led to her apartment. Warmth once again filled his heart; he could feel the lightside restoring inside him after being muted in the heat of battle. His heart quickened. His thoughts raced as the lift stopped. The door opened. And there, sitting just where he knew she would, was ßæra.

His heart stopped.

Instead of running to him with all the emotion that he had envisioned, she was preoccupied... with another man - Jedi Padawan Jurin Min. Though they never kissed, their interwoven fingers and dreamy looks stabbed Spir deeper than any wound he could have received on the campaign trail. Jurin Min, one of the most popular young Padawans in the Order - one Spir had spoken with in spattering occasions and one whom he believed to have true potential as a Jedi Knight. Spir had even contemplated making Jurin as his own Apprentice. After an instant that seemed like an eternity, ßæra spotted Spir - her gaze turned to a surprised terror as Spir closed the doors and descended in the turbolift.

He was numb.

As Spir's trial regarding his actions on Dxun was about drew closer, he spotted the flirtatious, newly knighted Min in a dark hallway. ßæra and Jurin had since stopped seeing each other and Spir was ready to forgive her and take her once more as his wife-to-be.

But when he saw Jurin's iconic face - just as cocky and with the same expression he had the day Spir returned - he snapped. All the rage that the thought of ßæra silenced from Dxun; all the pain her dalliance had caused; all the urges that wished the young Min dead violently erupted into a powerful rage of dark emotion. In a blind battle-rage Spir leapt ferociously at his victim. Igniting his lightsaber in mid air, Spir pounced on Jurin, stabbing him with furious force through the chest as they both impacted the floor.

Spir's trial proceeded much differently than could have been expected. He was exiled from the Jedi Order for his crimes and for fear that the darkside would totally consume him, should he stay with ßæra. Spir meekly accepted the terms. As he was loaded into a criminal transport to take him offworld, he spotted ßæra, crying and alone. He stared at her as his insides melted - his passions removed both of her chances for love. He placed his hand on the window in painful farewell as she did the same. They made a bond that day that would carry Spir through the rest of his life, whether by necessity or pure love, as the shuttle ventured off into the unknown regions of space...

The radio played its crackly music - the sounds had made their way nearly a light year from their origin. The men of Svii squad lounged in their bunks. The bright warmth of Solaris, the Sparatan sun, lapped gaily against the hull of their dull grey vessel which was docked, along with half the Sparatan fleet, at Osaka Harbor. Sci smiled. Life was good. He was young and fully comfortable in both his own abilities and the abilities of his brothers in arms. They had no cares and no worries. The war was on the other side of the galaxy. Sci glanced out at the spectacular view streaming in beside him. The immeasurable natural beauty of the planet below with the sun's glorious orange radiance overflowing into the spaceport surpassed even the power of the brilliantly crafted Sparatan warships docked around the planet. The powerful screech of a flight of starfighters shook through the bunks - another routine patrol was launched, if only so the pilots could bask in the beauty of the scene outside the confines of the cruiser decks. Everything was calm. Sci sleepily wandered off into deep thoughts. Comforting thoughts. He remembered her, so far away. As the music slid Sci out from his conscious slumber - his pleasant day dream - he recognized the song that was playing. A wry smile broke into a thoughtful one as the radio once again lulled Sci into the tranquility of the moment...

The brilliant bright-setting sun illuminated the wounded shard of a starfighter sinking lifelessly down through the crisp atmosphere. Nothing could save the burning metal wreckage as it left its fiery mark on the beautiful sky. The fighter smashed through the tranquil clouds, gleaming with flame. The smoke, only slightly subduing the scene, tore through the gaping holes left by its burning leading edge. As the black streaked down through the layers of gold, the sun glimmered glorious radiance through the scattering clouds...

As the planet loomed closer, ever expanding against the great void, Sci, inside his tiny starfighter, streaked towards his objective. The peaceful, smooth thrust of his craft sailed him onward as the the warmth of the far-distant star began to warm his cockpit.

I followed him, waiting for him to slip up. I knew he wasn't who he said he was. I knew it couldn't be true. He lived on the edge of the Law. He bent everything I knew until I could no longer distinguish the black and white. Finally I saw my chance. It was perfect - it had to work. It could not fail. I knew where he would be. I brought the authorities there and yet he still defied the Law; still acted in that 'I-am-God' tone. I despised his attitude. I was disgusted with the way he carried himself. He spat in the face of everything I knew. He was a heretic and a popular heretic at that. He HAD to be stopped. I HATED him.

I felt smug as I watch the judge conduct his trial - there was nothing to be done - the populace was teetering on civil war over this man. It was noble justice that he should die. I grinned widely as I watched the authorities beat his face in - I would have helped if they'd let me in. I nearly threw up when I watching him walk out, but I wish they'd been able to press him closer to death. The bloody pulp of a heretical, treasonous traitor was then sent out to the gallows. If I hadn't been reminding myself that he was the lowliest scum of the earth, a treasonous radical against God, I would have felt pity for him.

I wanted them to kill the man who carried his bandage for him - to even touch his clothing would make a man in such filthy sin that all the lambs in the world would not save him.

As they inserted the nails into his arms and his wails began to ring out, I gritted my teeth. But I knew this was justice - he HAD to die. He was a blight upon the earth - the worst, dirtiest, filthiest most despicably sinful man ever to walk to the earth. I could literally see the rotten core of his being oozing out of his long, gaping wounds.

As they hauled his carcass up, seething with blood I felt a twinge of vindication. The sky began to darken and the rain began. I saw him crying, wailing, exhaling his spirit. I stood back - I didn't want any of his tainted breath to stain my cloak. Suddenly he looked down at me from atop his cross. Not just at me... INTO me. His eyes pierced my soul. I felt the sin inside and around him - every thought and dream the Satin had ever known was upon this man - the every sin of humankind, from the beginning to the end of time surrounded him, permeated him. His visage wreaked worse than a battlefield that turned to a cesspool in the rain. In an instant, I saw all these things in -me-. Had it flowed into me, tainting my insides, turning my once pure soul into an abomination almost as hideous as this man!? Every wrong thought, every wrong deed churned up in the tumult of that moment. Was there no hope!?



And then I realized as His eyes pierced my soul, turning it inside-out:


He -did- carry the sin of every person of every time. It was the most complete of injustices for Him for to die. But not in the way I would have imagined two minutes before.

He carried -my- sin. Everything. All. From every moment I failed to think of God, to every rape, murder, and theft I ever thought about.

It was injustice because all the lambs in the world could not pay for -my- sin, much less mankind's. It would take the only Perfect Being in the universe to empty his life-blood to cover the depth of my sin. And He did. I fell to my knees in total and desperate awe, grief, and terror.

The last thought I had before the earth began to shake and I lost my consciousness was a wailing so loud my head could not contain it for forgiveness. Words cannot describe my experience there in the rain.

When I awoke, He was gone. The massive amounts of blood on His cross and at the foot of His cross made me vomit. I caused His death. HE DIED BECAUSE I DOOMED HIM THERE. I KILLED MY GOD. I picked myself up and returned to the city. Everything was in a gloomy light. All the faces were smiling, knowing, as I had, that we had enacted justice. A crier in the town rushed by me screaming that the curtain in the tabernacle had been torn in two. The crowds became hysterical. Everyone thought the world would end - and so did I. After-all, we had just killed God.

A few days later, I heard a whisper that he was still alive. I wept for joy. I avidly sought Him out, asking everyone I saw about news.

After many days of nothing, I gave up. I sat in an alley and cried myself to sleep. I awoke to see man with brutal and ugly scares on his wrists. My heart leaped into my throat - all my sorrow and fear imploded in that instant - not even my wish to apologize and ask desperately for forgiveness could be thought, much less said. I understood. And so did He. I murdered Him in hate. Yet He had risen. And He had risen in love... love for mankind. Love for me.

"What are you doing over here by the wire?"
"Well, like I told Max here, I was trying to get my... "

"What were you doing by the wire?"
"Well, like I told Max... I was trying to cut my way through your wire because I want to get out. "

"Are all Sparatan officers so ill mannered?"
"Yeah, 'bout ninety-nine percent."

"Perhaps while you are with us you will have the chance to learn some. Ten days isolation, Sci."

"-Captain- Sci."

"Twenty days."

"Right. Oh, uh, you'll still be here when I get out? "

"Cooler!"

"Right."


...............................................................................


"Spiros, isn't it?"

"Sci. Just make it Sci."

A bright flame streaked through the twilight sky of Sparata. The long, scratching whispers of the wind began to still as the fire tumbled through the atmosphere. The extreme velocity of the object created a sound more forceful than the wind. One could almost see the air compressing against the flame, creating a brighter leading edge. A contrail of smoke and scorched ions etched an oily purple-green hue into the deep, brilliant sky. The wind rose its voice again as the fireball fell out of view. Watching from the dusky desert sand, a small boy in tattered clothes with a crude sword strapped to his back. He began to run after the magical curving in the sky before it dissapated into the brisk air. His sandals flopped, each step kicking up little tufts of sand as he made his way over the vast expanses of the Sparatan desert...

[Planet Log: Kænj'ir]

[Sci's Datapad]
[Description: Kænj'ir]
[Entry:

Planet: Kænj'ir
Region: Molira
Type: Urban Metropolis, high mountains with polar ice caps
Climate: Cool, marginal seasonal flux
Population: 17 trillion
Inhabitants: J'ir [indigenous]

The most note-worthy aspect of the J'ir is their system of government. Adopted in the centuries following a horrible accident in their democratic system, the Ji'iri system of governance is actually quite profound. They have two branches of government - Judicial, Legislative. Instead of having Krinar, or senators, vote on how to spend the federal funds, the J'iri themselves vote personal funding, or remove personal funding, to the issues canonized by the senators. Taxes are essentially non-existent on Kænj'ir because even military and most governmental paychecks are voted on in a 'stock-market' type exchange, and though the federal officials have the considerable power to determine what projects get posted as official, the people decide how much funding each project receives. This initially led to high crime waves, as factions collected and tried to persuade the vote. As such, one of the only enforced taxes is for law enforcement along with the criminal justice department and the federal law that all citizens must have a personal weapon.

Unfortunately, bribery rates are exceptionally high on Kænj'ir, to the point, in fact, that it's basically an accepted profession. The J'ir economic system is also so closely intwined with the government that some say it's the the same beast. This is balanced by the fact that, in the end, the people still vote whatever funding they wish into the projects that are canonized via bribery. As an obligatory, though not enforced, tax, the people are to 'tip' law enforcement for deeds done. Since the J'ir are a very wealthy people, this works well, as most spend lavishly, and, citizens without much personal funding can buy stock in companes who vote a particular way. In fact, some companies are purely politica...[data corrupt]...ortunately, the J'iri constitution and it's judicial branch worry almost exclusively about government violation of citizen rights. It could be argued, in fact, that the Rokti [judges] actively seek to reign the legislators in, as the less people spend on the legislative system, the more they spend on the judiciary. Unfortunately, the system is not perfect, as most people do not pay anything for the government, thus making the ultra-rich or politically savvy citizens have the most say in the direction of the Krinarior. [government] However, as soon as the middle-class citizens get outraged or find an issue they care about, their votes are instantly cast by pumping funding into other projec...[data corrupt]...nterestingly, the judiciary system is funded by levvied taxes, which are levvied by the legislative branch. Thus, the more money that goes to the judiciary system, the less goes to the legislative. [data corrupt]...wever, a voluntary judiciary donation can be gifted as well, as the legislators rarely rarely provide funds themselves, thus, like competing companies, the government strives for perfection. The only downside to this system is that 'political class' citizens are essentially conscripted... [data corrupt] ]

Here comes the sun...

"Here comes the sun, da da da da

Here comes the sun, and I say
It's all right

Little darling
It's been a long cold lonely winter
Little darling
It feels like years since it's been here

Here comes the sun, da da da da
Here comes the sun, and I say
It's all right

Little darling
The smiles returning to the faces
Little darling
It seems like years since it's been here

Here comes the sun, da da da da
Here comes the sun, and I say
It's all right

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes

Little darling
I feel that ice is slowly melting
Little darling
It seems like years since it's been clear

Here comes the sun, da da da da
Here comes the sun, and I say
It's all right
Here comes the sun, da da da da
Here comes the sun
It's all right "
It's all right 

[Planet Log: Rapata]

[Sci's Datapad]
[Description: Ripata]
[Entry:

Planet: Rapata
Region: Aeris
Type: Desolate desert with Urban, arboreal poles
Climate: Moderate, minimal seasonal flux
Population: 9 billion
Inhabitants: Ripari, Tris [indigenous]

The Ripari are technical beings who thrive on research and thought. They excel at research and engineering. Their great distance from the mainstream lends itself to their natural reclusive tendencies. They are a thinking race, with long, thin limbs that are not conducive to combat. Regardless of their physical stature, however, the Ripari are not idigenous to Rapata, and are thus conquerors who took the planet by force over five thousand years ago during a great crisis on the original home world of the Ripari, whose name has been lost to time, though it may be concieved that Rapata was the name of their first planet, as well. This entry will refer to the original Riparan homeworld as Rapata Prime, as Rapatan historians have come to call it. This Rapata Prime was apparently a lush, arboral moon of Rapata, however out of Rapata's four moons, only one is arboreal, and none show signs of life-supporting systems nor of previous civilizations. The indigenous Tris were only a few hundred years behind the Ripari at the time of first contact. Early Riparan space-farer's actually believed the Tris to be an off-shoot species of their own race; the smaller, thicker-boned Tris were otherwise very similar in appearance to the Ripari, however, this fact was quickly put aside when a Tris combat party raided a peaceful Rapari exploratory vessel. The Tris were much faster learners the Rapari, who had an arduous, yet elegant processes for canonizing new knowledge, and quickly reproduced a space-worthy vessel. An intense conflict followed which lasted over one hundred years. The intra-orbital war, known as the Sorian War from the Riparan word for sun or solar, "Sor'i," saw the tactical genius of the Rapari's long-standing logical tradition wage war against the Tris' sturdier frames and ever increasing technical prowess. There is very little recorded history of this war as both sides conscripted every citizen fit for combat, and the fighting was so intense, given the close proximity of the Rapatan moons to Rapata, that almost no could record events, and many that did were killed or their work destroyed, before it could be copied. Most of what is known is via oral traditions, which over five-thousand years have yielded legends and myths that intertwine with the facts, making them nearly indistinguishable. I was not, in my short time being stranded on the planet, able to deduce all of the stories, however most agree that the Tris started strong, beating the Ripari back nearly to destruction, and then a drastic event occurred which turned the tides of the conflict, ending in the evacuation of Rapata Prime and the integration and blending of Riparan and Tris cultures and traditions on Rapata. Currently, the Rapatans have a long-established symbiosis with both species, though there is still some social reservations regarding inter-special marriages and mating, the two work nearly flawlessly as scientists - the Riparan logic keeping the Tris ingenuity in check and the Tris fueling quicker advancements. Ironically, to avoid another genocidal conflict like the Sorian War, Rapatan law forbids combat vessels from being created. This creates an interesting dynamic for their interaction with intragalactic civilizations, in tha... [data corrupt] ...nost Rapatans in modern times are energy farmers, harvesting solar and geo-thermal energy for use at the intelligence hubs on the arboreal poles for tax benefits. Due to the Rapatan's placement in the galaxy, trade is rare and more of a social event than a way of life. As such, the Rapatans have erected a socialistic republic as their form of government. Senators are elected for life, generally due to patents they have filed rather than political prowess. Crime rates are very low on Rapata. The Ripari ancient laws, which were adopted by the Rapatan senate two hundred years after the end of the Sorian War when the senate was almost exclusively made of Ripari, charge even the most basic criminals with either months of torture, usually resulting in death, ejection via rocket into the Rapatan sun, Sor'i, or becoming a dueling slave in the great arena. Most request the arena, however the most common punishment is the removal of the criminal's left hand to signify their fall from social grace. The judicial system is enacted, enforced, and epitomized by the distinguished order of Rapatan Prætorians called the Riporii. The Riporii were traditionally Ripari, however in recent years a handful of Triso-Riparan hybrids have been admitted into their ranks. [data corrupt]...iporii elders are judges with the youth being trainees. Age brings rank as does exceptional bravery and service. The Riporii serve as the security forces for Rapata and Rapatan space. They research, develop, and manufacture the only combat-ready vessels and maintain the only combat infrastructures on Rapata. Interestingly, the Rapatan government refuses t... [data corrupt] ]

Sonnet I

The nights of old darkened
The skies of yorn are dim
And the darkness harkened
A foulness of wretched kin

With eyes of widened breadth
And lips that no man sees
A mind that schemes death
And brings all men to their knees

It is but a muscle in reality
But the emotions it creates are sin
It is deceitful above all anonimity
It is the heart within

Deep, dark conniving
Quick, slick contriving

- Samuel Raisesworde