11th of November, 1994th of NDE. Aundirh Sector, near Viurvitake.

  Around the meteoroid ring, tenderly swiveled the Haldoreen-II Voidstation resembling a gargantuan scepter with a wide shaft of a snow silvery hull and snting, oblong extensions tightened onto it – bck as the feathers of ravens. The top segment seamlessly crawled onto the ft top of this gargantuan shaft, simirly of a snow silvery hull with raven bck borders and edges. From its roof of the 50th floor, a massive totem protruded shaped like a blooming lotus rose with its center holding a jet sized like the fist of a dragon, from it a bck light mingled with the dimness of the Void, generating a high-grade aegis around the rotating vessel.

  And on the bottom, a rge cone with a sharp pointy end with barely visible slits stared into the bottomless emptiness stretching beyond what any eye could see. Within its confines, twenty levels of maze-like corridors stretched with small, frugal rooms housing the miners – prisoners – who work tirelessly on the unforgiving surface of Viurvitake. On the top 20th level, loud footsteps on the oaken floor accompanied the cursing of one Izelle – a young sraudornian Ginnungriath of the Voidfarer Branch of the Bck Rose Order who maintained control over the mining operations of the pnet.

  Even as her oily, chocote dark visage reflected the frustration of being lost after a lone torpedo impacted the outer hull – it remained ever so lovely as her mother often described it trying to get her a worthy husband back on Heleion. Luxuriant, jet-bck hair sprouted forth her now triangur contoured head, following its lines as cascaded down with the same discipline that her superiors vainly beaten into her. Its edges dyed a deep, vibrant citrine yellow, her dense bangs trimmed in an Arrow-Style – tapering to the middle, into a sharp, pointy end just above where her slender bridged nose merged seamlessly into her wide forehead.

  Her eyes brimmed with anger magnificently accentuated by the amber golden pearls in its center, her pristine white teeth bitten into her coffee tinted cushiony lips. On her hourgss sculpted body, the Valkyrieth Type-VI coat followed those lines, and even accentuated the refined curve thanks to the corset like waist, and the wide belt looping around it – decorated with lotus rose shaped snow silvery buttons. Layered on the broad shoulders, six dragonid leather ptes of angur shape coiled around, veiled by the folded out double-funnel colr spreading down, covering her parts of her nametag attached to front panel from which the right side of the colr protrudes, whilst at the rear, remained at nape height. Between this folded out pyramid, the aughierna satin dress shirt’s pointy, triangur colrs arose, in their vivacious, dim opal blue grace. A raven bck aetherna satin cravat stood stiffly with the loop hidden under the care of the leaves, the front tied in an elegant bow-style snting a bit onto the bust, its sides brushing against the snow silvery satin walls of the folded-out coat colr.

  “Where in the Gods’ damned way is the exit?” At long st, no longer able to contain her frustration, she yelled out. “Two turns away!” Came the familiar voice of one of the dwarven twins muffled by the nearby door.

  “Thanks!” With her cheeks reddened, Izel thanked him and continued on, just as the flow of mana returned to their section and on the bck wall, where the next turn awaited, an arrow manifested – resembling astral powder of a pinkish purple shade – pointed towards the exit to the elevator room.

  “Fucking finally.” She excimed amidst a deep sigh as the door slid into the wall with a hiss. Stepping into the cozy entrance to the prison section, her back impacted the closed door and her shapely, heavy bosom trembled in the yoke of her bra, dress shirt and coat. Noticing the snow elven superior Sister of hers, she once more felt a bit awkward, but pretended to straighten her uniform by grappling onto the coat’s asymmetrical hem – the left side lengthened, draping over her thigh and left rear cheek whilst gradually shortening as it circled around her hip.

  “Almost decided to mount a rescue search for you, newbie.” Synnotial jested a little as she put down her hard covered book onto the oversized counter’s marble top. She rose up as to tease the neonate with her decorated uniform. Izelle paid her not much attention outwardly as she walked over to the sofa near the oblong right window and colpsed into it. “Thanks.” She replied in a tired, husky tone as she enjoyed the soft embrace of the sofa.

  Holding the bow-tied cravat in its center loop, was a small, metallic pin veneered with the eldritch flowery sigil of the Bck Rose Order, framed by the snow silvery zippers and the concealing narrow fps of her coat’s colr. The coat itself was edged with liquid paldium, its shiny surface etched with runic sylble that from afar appeared like simple and strict lines slithering along the surface. Simirly, the blue-opal colrs hidden by the joined effort of her double-funnel colr and cravat were inid with silvery metallic threads, forming a variety of arcane-geometrical shapes. Triangles, circles, pentagrams, heptagons and many others occupied and edges by arcane symbols. From their edges, corners further lines bled along the snow silvery and blue-opal surfaces of a lustrous liquid-metallic silken sheen formed from precisely sewn sylbles of arcane nature. And of course, pins rested above the sleeve patches, with three dragon cws on each side, two framing her name on the nametag. The only thing she missed were the shoulder straps ornated with the sculpted dragon heads.

  “Still, it would be nice if we could etch the arrows into the walls instead of relying on arcane coating that can be disturbed by these battles or sabotages.” She added as she fpped the panel over her left breast pocket and zipped it open. From its expanded space she pulled out a metallic case engraved with the sprouting lotus rose with a dragon’s eye in its center and popped it open. Immediately she picked out a mustard yellow filtered cigarette and wedged it between her soft, glossy lips whilst lightning it at the same moment.

  Then she rose and walked towards the window whilst slipping her thumbs under the yoke of her wide belt whilst the others’ rested atop the snow silvery buttons pced around where the piece melded shut. “Anyways, how are we faring outside?”

  Beyond the spotless, thick panels the gargantuan pnet with its ring swirled – even from up there, her eyes twinkled softly when storms lit the dim celestial body and the meteorite ring around it where wild magnetic storms pulled many to their dooms. Surrounding it, occasionally spots appeared in the continuous bckness of the Void, where the battle between their fleet and the Grand Myotis Federation’s navy raged where silence reigned supreme even in utter chaos.

  “Good question. Though no doubt we are winning still.” Synnotial said with a tone revealing her mild disinterest.

  Beyond the windows, two Dragon Css-IV Voidvessels hovered in the solemn emptiness around the Voidstation resembling a shaft forced into a wide, yered disk. Like their names suggested, these vessels followed the silhouettes of dragons constructed from a front and rear wedge connected at the center by a wide rectangle with an oblong ziggurat running atop it, snting towers like spikes in the centers, on the front as horns arose where they contained the one of the command centers. And from the sides, even greater wedges sprouted, resembling the wings with fluted tops containing the engines pushing along the vessel in the endless, empty bck sea.

  “Do you still want to join?” Stopping beside her, she stared into the lit gloom, and Izelle thought the skielfrith was observing the unfolding battle as if she was a breath away.

  “Of course. I always wanted to live through the thrills of battles, the boarding of enemy vessels.” Izelle said as she vomited out a torrent of cedar perfumed smoke.

  Hearing those, Synnotial looked at her and raised her left, curving thin brow of a bluish tint as she sensed a bit of dishonesty. “Really? You already got lost without the guidance of the arrows. You would easily get lost on their vessels.”

  Before Izelle could have retorted, the ringing broke her thoughts and she sighed whilst dragging the cigarette in the towering ashtray between the two windows. “Time for lunch I guess.” She said with a defeated tone as on the opposite side behind, a rectangur cavity opened revealing several metallic trays hovering above each. She grabbed the first then headed back to the corridors to feed the nearest four prisoners.

  ***

  The soft moaning of her dragonidh leather coat with lustrous matte finish echoed in the short section, before the door, mingled with her soft palms sliding on the bottom surface of the metallic tray. Izelle released her right hand and reached for the Lynnehal Type-V Shock Wand resting in its passive state on her trousers’ belt, and as her dark fingers with gilded polished nails wrapped around the snow silvery shaft, touching the octagonal pommel, a click followed as it grew in length.

  She assumed a dignified stance, and willed the door open. Amidst a metallic hiss, the door slid into the wall, completely disappearing and revealed the frugally sized room decorated only with a bed connecting from one side to the other, practically taking up half the space and pair of chair and table. “Prisoner 117! Hands to the wall, no sudden movements!” She said in a firm tone before she stepped in. The bulky orc arose from the bed wearing the raven bck, colred jumpsuit with snow silvery edging. With a groan, the orc towered over her for a moment, then walked to the wall and complied with a sigh.

  “What is on the menu today?” He asked. “Mashed potatoes, meatloaf from pork and a bit of veggies and gravy on top.” She answered whilst pcing the tray on the table, one eye kept on the prisoner who snorted hearing and smelling the food. Without any further words, she stepped out and closed the door before heading back to the elevator room.

  For the next two hours, she repeated the same procedure, delivering the dinner for the prisoners decreed to mine the solidified etherium and audrogen on the pnet, beneath the endless storms before returning with them to the research and processing station. Though she was always a bit anxious when dealing with the prisoners, deep down Izelle often wished one of them would try to escape at least once to make the job a bit more interesting. Though she not expected it from the dwarven twins or the mouthless stygian who creeped her out with his dark, sunken eyes.

  “Ah you must be Izelle! A pleasure to meet you my dear Sister!” When she returned from delivering the dinner to the elderly soratanese whose wrinkled, sallow skin was blemished by the crystallized etherium protruding from beneath, she was greeted by Ogul, one of the station’s Heileth’s. Beneath her long nose with a wide base, a motherly smile adorned her wide lips, revealing the curving, short fangs protruding from beneath the lower lip, her crimson red eyes shimmered affably.

  Her slender, muscur body – fair yellow as an eoranian toad’s – was draped in the double breasted Huilnisiath Type-VI coat with a round neckline from which a broad, tilting ring colr arose, structured and broad shoulders veiled by mildly stiffened fps unevenly segmented into eight pieces with six reaching down her bust, back and forearm. Simirly, at the center point, the waist belt melded with four decorative buttons in the middle, and an asymmetrical hem that reached down to her knees, the longer folding over the shorter. Betwixt the colrs, the raven bck bow-tied cravat coiled beneath the folded down leaves of her aughierna dress shirt’s azalea magenta colrs.

  “The pleasure is mine Elevated-Sister!” Izelle replied in kind, seeing that like Synnotial, her uniforms were decorated, above both sleeve patches pins held firmly, graved with four cw marks each, on the shoulder oblong straps stretched on the broad, smooth surface coated in snow silvery paldium and decorated with sculpted, miniscule dragon heads looking inwards. Their hands firmly wrapped around each other, and even though she expected the strength of her grip, Izelle still groaned softly as she felt the pressure.

  “Elevated-Sister Ogul is here in regards of Prisoner-771.” Hearing those words, revetion shimmered in Izelle’s golden eyes. “Please, escort her to the cell and wait for her until she is done with getting the necessary samples from her!” Izelle nodded and led the tall orc with lush, undercut hairstyle with onyx roots and ptinum blonde ends.

  “Newbie, be vigint!” Synnotial said to Izelle as she passed beyond the doorway. Her eyes seemed to be filled with caution.

  ***

  “Please wait here. It should take no more than an hour or two.” Arriving to the door, Izelle reached for her shock wand, but Ogul stopped her with a gentle touch around her sleeve’s octagonal sleeves. “Won’t be necessary. Before I became a Heileth, I served as a Skjaldmaerith in the Great War.” Hearing those words, Izelle was filled with admiration and decided to visit and hear out the myriad tales of the orc. But for now, she looked a bit pensive, but then nodded. “I’ll wait here then.”

  As minutes passed into half an hour as she waited by the door, Izelle folded back her coat’s colrs into their upright position and tightened the bow-tied cravat. Still, the silence in the dim walled corridors began to grate her, and once more she began to snap her foot onto the oaken floor. Even her hands locked and she fidgeted around her fingers and bit her lower lips. But for the most part, led by a sense of awe towards the orc, she waited and waited without uttering a word or a bang against the door.

  Her thoughts began to wander around until they arrived and faltered on Prisoner-771. A prisoner of the current war between the Dominion and the Federation. A star folk or as they refer to themselves, Aotdheiko from their lower Fauld-Caste. A quite attractive specimen with milk white skin contrasting her current getup of rougher beornid leather jumpsuit, shoulder length lush hair done with a U-cut accentuating her mesmerizing alien face. Deep set amethyst eyes that made her falter her words the first time she met with her, and her lips, mouth has the same curve of the crescent moon. Her nails have a strange, liquid like appearance, and they are as bck as the Void, with a few stars speckled and dancing on the dark ponds. And even after a long day of hard bor, she remained completely odorless, her skin bereft of perspiration.

  Still, she wondered what samples, what tests Ogul done on their prisoner of war. Was it in regards how the people of the federation – even its most populous race – was incapable of bending reality to their will? Was it in regards how the Gods given them a different gift, a more frugal one at that as Izelle heard from the few Faufniriath’s that visited the station, that these people are limited only to enchantments on their own forms and gear?

  When the first hour mark was passed, her anxiety began to grow, and she felt something wasn’t right. If they can only enchant, do they have arcane points? And if they don’t have arcane points, do our etherium restraints work on them at all? The thought furthered her anxiousness and she found herself reaching for her Sngfel Type-IV wand pistol resting in its holster just below where the circumference of her coat’s hemline ceased the exist in a peculiar inwards arc shape, its pointy tip ending well below the corset like abdomen of the coat.

  A gasp slipped past her cushiony lips when she gnced upon Ogul’s bound form sitting in the lone chair, bound with her own white siphoning ropes looping under her shapely breast bulging the seamless uniform. Hands crossed behind the chair, a combination of silver sealing tape and the siphoning ropes pressing the round sleeve cuffs, whilst her ankles pressed firmly against the chair’s legs under the yoke of the same combination. Around her cheeks, a soft leathery strap looped and pressed into her tender flesh, her curving fangs pressed onto the maroon red sphere with a metallic gloss and a rubbery mutability with her sweet, saccharine saliva cascading in thin lines, dripping down onto her coat’s p.

  Her eyes lit up with an etheric glow, strengthening their warm tinge as she peered into the yers of reality to find the missing prisoner. Following the astral hints taking the shape of vague silhouettes, parts of them gnarled out by the jaws of time, she looked up at the ceiling just as Prisoner-771 leapt down, her right fist that she remembered to be milk white, dark as the night with a dim purple pulsating glow and mist emanating from it like from a chimney, reminiscent of the Void Storms raging in the silent sea. Though her uniform improved upon her honed reflexes, she was still too te to reach as the etheric fist connected to her right cheek and she tumbled onto the lone metallic desk provided for all prisoners.

  Beneath her lids, her eyes darted, and with a second chop at her neck joint, her hourgss shaped body twitched one st time as she drifted into the deep bckness of unconsciousness. Prisoner-771 – better known amongst her folk, Nakariun – quickly searched through her pockets, confiscating the roll of silver sealing tape still unused, and a few coils of siphoning ropes. “Men seylémezs ygü, moynozssa! (Nothing personal, ma’am!)” In a cold, almost murderous tone, apologized for the slight inconvenience of folding Izelle’s arms on her back.

  After a bit of fidgeting, she managed to use her thumb to peel off the tape, then attached the fluttering end to the octagonal sleeves and quickly wounded it around and across then tore it away from the round fold and watched and listened as the tape cramped onto its coiling self and tightened signaled by the soft moan the unconscious Izelle emitted. Nakariun quickly ducked down whilst ripping open the tape once more, and wrapped the ankles together, even circled it up near the knees, tearing it away only when the upper trim was hidden beneath the clingy textile with a luster that even awakened a new fetish within the young agent.

  Her fingers dug in the dense dark hair, and pulled Izelle’s face after she tore a wide strip off and sealed her lustrous lips and oily dark cheeks, and watched with feral delight as a cushiony lip bulging formed on the center of glistening strip. “Ze izsetgem! (That should be enough!)” She whispered after she released her grip. With a loud thud Izelle’s head smmed back onto the table reflecting her face adorned by the long strip, and her captor let out a hiss at the loud metallic thud.

  “Scob! (Sorry)!” She said with honest dishonesty. Then she looked around and lifted the bound guard up, threw her down onto the bed, where she further wrapped her in the embrace of the woolen sheets before leaving.

  Author's Note:

  And another one begins. A shorter two piece story, based on an escape story formu.

  Now here, I changed a bit their uniforms once more as a bit more inworld time passed since the st story featuring the Voidfarers, and I do pn to do one more round of uniform design, as whilst I finished writing the third story for this month, I decided that the Void Between Worlds stories will be far ahead in the future. Though these designs will appear as now I have a clearer image on the timeline settings.

  Lastly I just want to mention the new faction, the aliens. I haven't looked through this chapter, but tiny bit of spoiler so to speak, but gnomes from the previous iteration now belong to this faction, they also do have humans but they have not the usual skintones and their bodies also have some minor alterations compared to us and the Heleionian humans. Then there are the full on furries, the less evil mindfyers, or well octopus/squid people and their technically elves but no really who are the main adversary here for our Bck Roses here.

  But anyhow, that is all I'll say for now. Thank you for reading this and take care folks! The next one comes tomorrow, a bit earlier.

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