The Celestial Sandbox
In this RP, you can do anything you want, as long as you follow a few rules. The universe is a blank slate, and you have just been given the tools to make it more. Destroy it, help it, the choice is yours.
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Name: Primary Level (This is, of course, the native name... in most of their languages and dialects, anyway. Some variation of it.)

Type: Planet

Physical Description: It has about ten percent greater mass than the Earth, but this is compressed into a world with less than 80% of its volume. There is a very thick atmosphere present; it bears down on the ground at an average of 10 atmospheres, which is basically a bit more than the equivalent of you swimming one hundred yards under the ocean. This is fairly unpleasant to experience to some creatures, so, if you don't have some sort of rigid shell to support all that pressure, aren't in possession of a body that would force you to care, or are already used to such, then you would be wise to wear some sort of suit or pressurize yourself before entering the world.

There are on the world a number of lakes, powerful rivers, and one large ocean. There is one supercontinent (or two, depending on the definition, and a couple of small islands around and in the middle of the ocean that really don't hope to compare) in the form of an isthmus. The climate is warm, and the thicker atmosphere helps to distribute heat to more polar parts of the world. This has resulted in the climate being a bit more stable when compared to the Earth, with less extreme heat near the equator and less chill near the poles, which are very habitable.

The most common biome are the vast plains full of stones, entirely overgrown with various spongy-looking moss-like organisms, the larger and nearly bushlike 'queen' pods which spawn their spores, and the various creatures that hunt and hide all throughout these. In the islands, there tend to be either washed up goo-bags from the seas, nothing, or large, complex mounds that tower up to twenty feet and appear to be entirely abandoned. In some of the islands closer to the supercontinent(s), there are more of the spongy mosses, but they don't tend to do as well in the island climates.

There are many scorched ruins and ancient hallows blasted and cut through the plains that appear to be abandoned; now, complex factories and secret facilities are springing up by the dozens in the southern continent, spreading towards the north. There is a cursory presence in space, with a couple oddly advanced satellites, a small space station, and some very, very basic warships floating around. These are all aimed inward toward the plaent, rather than outward, however.

Who Lives There?: There is but one sapient species (They call their species 'Unit'.), though these are fractured into many different nations and races. Most of these inhabit the less-developed northeastern portion of the supercontinent; at the very southernmost peninsula of the continent, there is one nation is expanding at incredibly rapid paces up as north as they can go, setting up advanced facilities the likes of which have not been experienced by the Primary Level... or, at least, not in a very long time. This group calls themselves the 'Gifted People'. As for appearances, imagine a thin, nearly transparent shell shaped much like that of a snails, only about two feet tall and supported by a dozen spindly, vaguely crustacean legs. These legs all end with both miniature hand-claws that are suprisingly dexterous, and something that looks a bit like a flipper.

Location (relative to any universal constant, such as Earth or the Milky Way): Roughly 90 lightyears from Earth.

1/20/2011 #1

It first appeared as a shooting star, a streak of fire in the sky far above.

But, unlike a shooting star, it didn't burn up. It blazed its way downward, falling thousands of miles at unimaginable speeds, heading straight for the planet below. Within moments it had passed through the upper atmosphere, and its light snuffed out like a candle.

Then it smashed into the surface, producing an earth-shattering boom and sending out shock waves in every direction. By some incredible coincidence, the object did not hit the water that covered most of the planet's surface, but rather hit land, crashing into a relatively deserted part of the southern continent. Everything within a radius of several miles died almost instantly, and the collision threw up a column of dirt and debris high into the sky.

Then the dust settled, and it was over.

1/25/2011 #2

The Unitary Measurer sat inside a box-like device, her tiny fingers drumming across a control lever as her side-flaps uselessly undulated. She was quite bored; quite bored at the moment, at least, but she still found herself excited over what might be. There were never any guarantees, of course, and she could hardly expect for one. Her Gifted Ones had, until relatively recently, only the vaguest notions about what might be beyond them; the Unitary Measurer herself, so far as she could gather, had been the only 'visitor' that this out-of-the-way planet had ever recieved. She couldn't expect them to recognize spacecraft very well, and they'd had an event like this with a particularly large meteorite, before.

But reports had come... Reports of a bright light in the air, a great shifting in the earth that the Unitary Measurer herself had managed to feel the edges of. Total elimination or severe destruction delivered upon the infrastructure of unfortunate lesser counties (and the lives of many Units, some Gifted Ones), though these hadn't been developed too far along; still, there had been simple roads that would have gone right up to where the object was, had they not been destroyed. The Units with their fast vehicles had been forced to stop at a number of spots in the underdeveloped highway, and eventually the Ranlet and a circle of curious Units had been forced to depart on their own. But now, they were almost at the site! How exciting!

Or perhaps ominous. But the Unitary Measurer did not like to dwell on the negative. The reports did confirm the object at the site of the impact as being... large. Much larger than the scout craft that the Ranlet had entered the Primary Level with. That might mean power, that might mean an advanced race to build such a craft... or, if could be a horrifically inefficient device that needed the bulk to go anywhere, built by the most primitive of societies. Then again, perhaps none of the above, a combination?. Erratic development, unknown cultures, she had no way to guess what danger or salvation might be in that machine, provided the reports were not falsifications. Was this how the Gifted Ones had first felt, going up to her smoking scout ship? I will have to ask, she thought, before remembering that those first ones had perished years before. Gifted Ones were, unfortunately, not gifted with such a long lifespan as hers... perhaps that could be altered. But such would have to wait, for the moment.

She could see it as she rolled over the edge of a ridge, her machine effortlessly absorbing the impact and continuing, her Gifted Ones pausing before more carefully descending by their flipper-claws. They had been right! A very large ship indeed, she could not exactly place the construction... It had a curious design. The ship resembled a branchling driven through a series of wheels. Feeling pleased with herself and her Gifted Ones, the Unitary Measurer began towards the ship without hesitation. Over all these years, she had already provided her Gifted Ones with much information... now, for the most part, what they didn't have from her knowledge was what they merely lacked the infrastructure to produce. She certainly hoped that whatever might be in the ship, if anything, was not a hostile creature, but if so... it would be alright. The Ranlet believed that she had produced a satisfactory life.

The Unitary Measurer rolled beyond rocks and debris in her machine, straight towards the alien ship. The first uncertainty she felt... what might she do to communicate with any inhabitants? There did appear to be some sort of entry portal in front of her, on one of the rings... then again, that might have been a maintenance tunnel, or a weapons port, or any number of things. She tapped at it, remembering how those Gifted Ones from so long ago had started their fruitful relationship between her and them with a good knock on the side entry of the old scout ship. Probably not liable to work, and yet... it would be a start, even if the aliens would rather not open their doors. For all she knew, this could be a hostile atmosphere to them. In a more substantial attempt at communication, her survival machine had begun to emit a short, rapid sequence of radio message, the same pattern repeated without pause for some minutes. That was more likely to alert any survivors of their presence, though they couldn't be sure of that, either.

(Sorry that that took a while!)

1/25/2011 . Edited 1/25/2011 #3

(I'm going to have #39 already here, but in a kind of hibernation, if thats alright? All you need do is find and awaken him where ever you feel, when you are ready.)

1/25/2011 #4

(I'm not sure if I can get to that with this character in a short timeframe... Tell you what, I'll probably go and create some shorter profiles for some Units and just have them meet up with #39 and wake him up accidentally or something. Your character's the tentacle blob monster thing, right?

Anyway, it probably won't happen today, but I'll be getting some Units up for the approval process by tomorrow.)

1/25/2011 #5

(Thats #96. #39 is the Giant fighting robot. :P

Sounds like a plan.)

1/25/2011 #6


The first sensation TALC felt was pain. Lots of it. His body was broken, and more of his sensors than he could count were lit up, sending him reports on the extent of the damage. Engines, smashed, habitation sections 4-6 and 8-12, collapsed, fuel tank, empty, hull breaches everywhere...

Internally groaning, he started up a sensor sweep. He wanted to know exactly where he had landed; maybe there was someone nearby who could help him? Of course, he knew that was unlikely, but it couldn't hurt to hope.


To his surprise, his sensors detected several organic masses within the vicinity. One of them was quite close, almost right next to him. Immediately he focused on that one, running a number of intensive scans on it to figure out what it was, and whether it might be able to help him. It wasn't long before he determined that it was in fact alive, although it seemed to be encased in some sort of metal shell...

Then, he paused as, to his surprise, he suddenly received some sort of radio signal. Relatively primitive, and complete gibberish to him, but it was a start. So, it seems these creatures are intelligent as well. That's... that's good. Very good, actually. Better than I could have hoped for...

He sensed something tapping on part of his shell, near a door. It must be the creature, trying to communicate, maybe? Did it want inside? After a long moment of deliberation, TALC decided that he really had nothing to lose.

The door began to slide open, but stopped about halfway through the operation, as its beleaguered mechanism gave out.

(Do you care if I just claim his creators had known about the Ranlets, to ease communications?)

1/25/2011 . Edited 1/25/2011 #7

(Sure, let's go with that. We could say that the Ranlets have been begging to learn something, anything, from them in recent years, or something like that. They tend to do that with advanced species. So, are you going to post again? Because I can't quite think of a response from her side...)

1/25/2011 . Edited 1/25/2011 #8

(Sorry, I began that post a couple hours ago and had to put it on hold, so I didn't see your edits. I edited my post.)

1/25/2011 #9

The Unitary Measurer was quite suprised by how swiftly the ship had opened up, though the door seemed to seize up somewhat jerkily. She wouldn't have expected the inhabitants to be so eager to let complete strangers in... then again, she realized, the ship did appear to be rather worse for the wear. Maybe this was some sort of desperate attempt to secure help. Maybe these aliens were just really friendly. Perhaps they'd come here for the explicit purpose of meeting the inhabitants, though that seemed doubtful... for whatever the reason, the Ranlet was very pleased at how swiftly the process of greeting whatever lived in there was progressing. Maybe, if she was really lucky, they would be a group that her survival machine was already outfitted to deal with... having to wait to translate the entirely different language patterns chewed up a lot of time. She still didn't recognize the ship from the exterior, though (let alone the inside), so that was probably not about to happen.

She rolled on into the ship in her machine, her Gifted Ones following after her. It certainly was an odd ship, looking from the inside...

1/25/2011 #10

At first, everything was dark. Then, the lights flickered on, somewhat dim but managing to serve their purpose.

Everything was in complete disarray. Broken and shattered furniture, devices with many and varied purposes, and even a few small objects that might have been toys were scattered everywhere. The walls were split open in places, with cables hanging out of the cracks like guts. No living creature could be seen anywhere.

Embedded in one wall was a small screen, cracked but otherwise relatively undamaged. After a moment, it came to life, but there was nothing on it except snow.

1/25/2011 #11

The Ranlet stared at the screen for a moment, fixated on the rapidly changing and contrasting whites and blacks on the screen. It took a few seconds before she could break away from the sight; those lights and their changes were just something that naturally tended to draw her attention, much as a human might respond to a call (or, a more accurate metaphor in this case of a broken screen, search for a source of random babbling). The ship certainly seemed to be quite badly damaged, now that she was in the interior... funny, how much worse it looked on the inside. But something was turning on the lights as they had filtered in... would that be surveillance from the aliens, flipping switches as they entered? Or would that be an automatic program? It would be automatic for the Elscer, but most kinds in space were not Elscer... none, now, in fact.

She looked around for cameras or sensors. Some made them unobtrusive, even microscopic, others went for large ones that made you certain that you were being watched, or whatever other reasons. The latter would make the process much easier.

If it was a pressure-based sensor or something, though... that would be useless. Undulating her side-flaps in moderate frustration, the Ranlet rolled deeper into the alien ship.

1/25/2011 #12

A match!

After feeding the lifeforms' specifications into his internal database, TALC was pleased to find that one of them matched a species the Minem had encountered. It seemed that this creature was known mainly as a "Ranlet", although its own name for itself was merely a series of colors. In fact, the data stated that this species communicated entirely through a series of colored light signals, which fortunately the Minem had managed to decode years before.

TALC took a short time to prepare a message and translate it into those colored signals, then sent it to the area where the aliens were exploring.


Meanwhile, the Units and the one Ranlet entered another room, which was also dark. Like before, the lights obligingly switched on, and also like before, this new room was filled with debris. However, the floor also began to noticeably slant upward here, impeding their progress.

Another screen switched on, casting its glow throughout the dimly-lit room. But this time, instead of snow, it began to cycle through a series of colors. It would mean nothing to the Units, but to a Ranlet, it would mean something along these lines:

"Do not go any farther, it is unsafe. What is this place called?"

1/25/2011 #13

At first, the Ranlet had thought it was another broken moniter or display, like the one from the last room, if more colorful. Still, her gaze had slid to it... she was quite suprised, to say the least, to see such a message, in her very own dialect! If that wasn't a great coincidence, then it was definitely a warning not to go forward. Immediately, small colored signals flashed along the photophores and into the input of her survival machine, and in a moment, it unleashed grating noises, pops and hisses. The Gifted Ones all ceased their movement up into the ship, hastily lining up behind the Ranlet.

Inside the Unitary Measurer's survival machine, another layer slipped over the input screen as she prepared her message. The colors she released were magnified by the screen, sent out in slow, spiralling patterns like the ones displayed in front of her. Translated:

"This planet is called the Primary Level! But, alas, you are not likely to find this name anywhere else in whatever data you possess, at the least not in reference to here. As far as I know, I am the only other alien form aside from your kind to have ever arrived here."

Though, was the form alien? Maybe this was a new Ranlet ship, even if it seemed radically different than what she had known... unlikely, but maybe they'd advanced so far in so short a time, or perhaps recovered old secrets, previously unknown? That would help to explain how they could communicate with her, anyway, unless the Ranlets had suddenly become more important and known among the galaxy. That hardly seemed any likelier, but she could hope!

1/25/2011 . Edited 1/25/2011 #14

The only other visitor? That means the natives are likely very primitive, and probably won't be much help... The Ranlet may still be able to help, though.

Just to make sure, TALC ran a search of his databases for "Primary Level", but as the Ranlet had predicted he found nothing. He quickly prepared and translated another message, then sent it to the display.

"My crew and passengers are all dead; they were killed long before I came here. I am injured and broken, and I cannot move. I do not know where I am. Will you help me?"

1/25/2011 #15

"All... dead?" the Ranlet asked, shocked. Space was certainly dangerous, but she was communicating with... well. Whatever had designed this ship, it certainly had a good AI to it.

Stretching her flaps and face blazing with colors, "We will try, though it might take a long time. I have attempted to impart my knowledge to my Gifted Ones-- that is to say, the sub-group of the species that first discovered me-- though I find that they frequently lack the infrastructure to fully implement my ideas. It all comes in time, and we have had over half my lifespan to work on their situation..." she said, unsure if that was an interval that would make sense to the AI, "But I am not certain how much we can help, what you need. Some on this ship appears to be beyond my own understanding, and we will need time to build infrastructure to so much as get over here after so much was destroyed with your impact, let alone begin repairs. But the Gifted Ones are industrious, and they are very eager to learn if you are willing to impart the knowledge. As for where you are, I can safely say that we are... somewhere in the neighborhood of five light-years away from the Ransource, in the direction leading away from the core. Anything more specific, I'm afraid I myself do not know. But the Gifted Ones will help; they have found that helping their strange visitors has been very beneficial to them."

1/25/2011 #16

"Destroyed with my impact?" TALC repeated, mildly surprised. "Oh, I... I did not realize. I apologize sincerely, I had put myself into hibernation and did not wake up until you found me..." He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts, the screen turning black briefly. Then, he went on, "In any case, I will be happy to share anything I can with you and these 'Gifted Ones', in return for your help. I do have some self-repair systems, but they are slow, and the damage is extensive. Any help you can give will be greatly appreciated. ...Also, my... my creators were of a species called 'Minem', I believe they have had dealings with your species. Are they familiar to you?"

(Leaving now, good night.)

1/25/2011 #17

"It had been a nearly useless territory, outdated and undermanned by my Gifted One's own standards, only held to keep their foes from having it and later forgotten. Do not worry; your arrival presents a much greater gain to them than what had been present, it is merely difficult, to have others arrive quickly. As to those 'Minem', I have personally never seen of them. I have been here on this planet for a great many of its rotations, however, and I had not learned much about our current contacts when I first began to scout regions at the periphery of Ranlet knowledge. Much may have changed. At any rate, I shall instruct these of my Gifted One's to seek assistance; they will be sure to spring for the chance of advancing beyond their technological poverty."

The patterns emitted from the screen of her survival machine faded at the end of her statement; the grinding noises and bubbling sounds started back up, and with sharp pops in response from the Units, the fastest of them fled at a surprising clip to spread the news to their fellows.

(They'll come back in force in a day or two to clean up the area at feverish paces. I think if I create a few actual Unit characters, that will provide an excellent opportunity to discover #39 while cleaning up the crater area and the general rubble.)

1/25/2011 #18

Despite the Ranlet's assurances, TALC still felt bad about the devastation his impact had caused. Who knew how many aliens had died as a result of his arrival? "Thank you, but... I doubt I have so much to offer that it will make up for the lives lost. I will try, though. Give my humblest apologies and deepest condolences to the natives." He paused again, thinking. "...Also, would you... mind staying with me, please? I've been alone for a long time, and the last thing I remember is the slaughter of my passengers and crew. I... would very much appreciate someone to talk with. If you wish, I could find more, ah, intact quarters for you..."

1/26/2011 #19

(They'll come back in force in a day or two to clean up the area at feverish paces. I think if I create a few actual Unit characters, that will provide an excellent opportunity to discover #39 while cleaning up the crater area and the general rubble.)

(This plan pleases us.)

1/26/2011 #20

"You would wish for me to stay? Certainly, I had been hoping that such would be the case," the Unitary Measurer remarked. "I have no physical needs that I would prefer for you to grant to me. My survival machine provides for me; so long as the place I remain is not hostile to its functioning, I am content with my current position," the lights flashed as the last of the released Gifted Ones scrabbled out of the ship. She then remembered that her Gifted Ones were not likely to be in such a position, and that it might be a couple of days before support arrived. Though they were diligent, it would not be healthy for them to obediently stand in place ignoring all else for such a time.

"My Gifted Ones that still remain, however... they would need somewhere secure and dark to fold their legs and momentarilly reduce their functioning. If you are aware of such a safe place within yourself and willing to instruct me as to where it is, I am sure they would be yet more grateful to you for your arrival."

That reminded her. They would need to find a way for the computers of her survival system and that of this ship to interact on their translation data; it would be highly inefficient for her to be the intermediary for absolutely every question, suggestion, that sort of thing. Or would this one even have a way to communicate with sound-based languages, the apparently grating one of these Gifted Ones in particular? She assumed so, though assumptions were... tricky, sometimes.

1/26/2011 #21

"Somewhere dark? Well, ah, considering I'm running on emergency power... I doubt it'll be too difficult to find that. Now, secure, that's a little harder. Most areas are unreachable due to damage, but I think I can find someplace suitable, just give me a moment, please..." TALC paused, searching for habitable areas and calculating which ones were most accessible. Eventually, he reported, "I've found a place that should be suited to their needs. Unfortunately, I can't afford to activate the life support systems, so while I can simply open a door to exchange the atmosphere, I won't be able to adjust the temperature or provide sustenance. If that proves to be a problem, I'd recommend switching them out, or simply sending them elsewhere. Here is the way, you are currently located at the green dot." The screen was replaced by a map showing part of the ship, with two dots, a green and a red one, and a bright yellow line connecting them.

1/27/2011 #22

(Let's see if we can maneuver this to a timeskip soon, then Sgt.Shank can move on in with #39 when I have it discovered with LLF.)

"Very well, very fine," the survival machine flashed, quickly reviewing the map. A whirring noise and more grinding started up from the speaker of the contraption, continuing for a couple of seconds, before the Units studied the map and dutifully marched off. "They have their bodies in order, unless there is an unexpected delay in arrival of support. I have been reminded," the colors flashed, "of a need to interface the computer of my survival machine with that of yours. You will need to be able to tell my Gifted Ones what to do, provided that you have a means by which to emit the sort of sounds that they make. I have had the language decoded for decades. It would be more efficient if communications could be established without me as everyone's intermediary, I am sure you would agree?" the Unitary Measurer asked. "Are you capable of doing that wirelessly? Or would you need to have a physical access?"

1/27/2011 #23

TALC considered that. "Well, yes, it would be more efficient if I could communicate directly with the Gifted Ones, but... If we wanted to come anywhere near an interface of the kind you're suggesting, I would have to learn whatever language your machine is coded in, and create a translation program. That could take... quite a while. It might actually be quicker for you to teach me the Gifted Ones' language yourself. I do, at least, have speakers capable of replicating their sounds." He paused, then suggested, "Actually, you need not teach me the entire language, only the essentials and whatever I might need when dealing with the Gifted Ones on a daily basis. Perhaps I could learn by asking you to translate whatever I have to say, so that I would have those sounds recorded for future reference?"

1/27/2011 #24

She recoiled a little inside her box, side-flaps writhing. "Are you sure? You... you are advanced, right? Can't... can't computers, just, uh...?"

She had assumed too much, she supposed. Looking at how advanced it all appeared, how it knew her language... she'd forgotten about concerns like that, actually. That was embarassing, for someone supposedly trained to encounter alien lifeforms. Even with the excuse that she hadn't been the greatest with the old Elscer computer technology, with so few understanding exactly how they worked, just how to make them... "I... very well, then. That will also work. Get your recording devices working, and I will state in their language whatever commands that you give me."

(Timeskip now?)

1/27/2011 #25

TALC was a little flustered by her reaction, worried that he'd offended her by making her look foolish. "Yes, I, I will prepare. Proceed at will."

(Sure, timeskip.)

1/27/2011 #26

(Will edit, posted in wrong forum.

EDIT: I messed up, could a mod delete this post?)

1/27/2011 . Edited 1/27/2011 #27

About a day later, a bit more than a mile or two away, Secondary Lightest Blue Wayclearing of 11 Limb and Large Flipperclaw was driving his Wayclearing group to the fastest, hardest labor that they could. Rumbling sounds and sharp clinks blasted into the air from his body, as he shouted at them to hurry in their tasks. This was one of the most important moments of their lifetime, he reminded them... another diety had graced them with its presence, the great shell coming down from the sky to bless them with what it had. They had to take advantage of this opportunity, as their parents had done with their current Unitary Measurer!

And to do that, the more important ones would need to pass terrain that was less formidable. Such was their purpose.

While his parents had relied upon their brute strength alone to clear paths, it was no longer thus. Sure, strength helped-- but what was infinitely more useful in clearing paths were the blessings that their marvelous visitor had bestowed upon them. Finished setting charges around a great obstruction, the Units all beat a hasty treat to behind rocks farther off to the side, escaping a boom, a blast, a cloud of debris...

When the dust cleared, there was... something. Something that must have been hiding under the rocks. It had the shiny glint to it of the blessings that had been granted to the devices, the tools, the vehicles... (Metal, is what he means to think.) but, that was odd. That much of the explosive material should surely have managed to destroy even that durable substance, blessed though it was. It was shaped in the form of... he couldn't think what it was shaped like, actually. It seemed to be rather long, though. A Gifted One poked at it, curious.

(Just met #39. I couldn't think of something for the Ranlet to do.)

1/27/2011 #28

Coming to Primary level was about as likely as #39 being defeated by its inhabitants, but nonetheless, it had happened.

The Bot's last commision had been to investigate a political kidnapping in the outer rim of the galaxy Primary level. However, it had not anticipated that another group would have been sent to investigate. #39 and the other group became embroiled in combat, trying to eliminate competition, giving the kidnappers plenty of time to take them both out. To prevent permanent damage, #39's AI system put it in lockdown, and jettisioned the bot away from combat, using its entire supply of fuel. #39 entered the atmosphere of Primary level, and crahsed landed, much like TALC. This had all happened about 75 years ago, during which considerable weathering had taken place, burying its body.

Today, however, there was plenty of activity around the site of #39's burial. Though its body was inactive, the bot's brain was quite alert. It had become suspious when TALC had crash landed, but the explosions meant it was time to emerge. Nearly immeadiately after its arm was poked, it began to slowly twitch. A loud, slow, groaning, clanking, and scraping of metal could be heard under the ground. At the same time's a loud mechanical voice stated, "Emergency power systems online. Warmup cycle initiating."

1/27/2011 #29

TALC had been resting to conserve what little power he had left, with only basic sensors online to keep him updated on his condition and surroundings. But then, his sensors picked up something odd a short distance away, and he reluctantly pulled himself back into full awareness. After running a few more cursory scans, he decided to reactivate the viewscreen he'd been using to communicate with the Ranlet.

"...Unitary Measurer, I have, er, detected an... odd energy signature nearby," he reported, somewhat unsure himself of what exactly he was sensing. "Do you... really need that much power for excavation?"

(By this point his speech will be more natural, since he's grown more accustomed to the Ranlet language and is no longer picking and choosing his words.)

1/27/2011 . Edited 1/27/2011 #30
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