Legion World Forums LEGION OUTPOST Bits o' Legionnaire Business Museum of Legion Arts: The Emerald Exhibit

March means green! Green gallery?!? March madness? Emerald Exhibit! Post your creative work featuring green themed Legion characters, storylines and concepts.

We love brand new submissions (stories, poems, prose, novels, paintings, drawings, photomanips, action figures, statues, busts, micros, etchings, etc.) but we certainly want your existing work posted in the galleries too! Come join us all month long starting on the 1st for the shindig!

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Check out past galleries:
Mon-El\'s Zone
Cockrum Hall
Holiday Hall of Art
Legion on the Run Wing
A 70s Legion Retrospective
The Servants of Darkness Exhibition
The Shrinking Violet and Atom Girl Gallery
30th Century Magic & Fantasy Exhibition
Wings of Wildfire
Legion of Supporting Characters Wing
The Selected Works of Sun Boy
The Golden Age Legion Gallery
The LSH + LMB Collection
The Power Team Up Exhibit
The Persuader Gallery
Andromeda & Shadow Lass/Umbra: A Retrospective
The ProFem/ProDude ProWing
The Back To School Collection
The Swimsuit Collection
The Royal Wing of Princess Projectra
The L Word Wing (Leeta 87 & The Lallorians)
The Hate Face / Love Karate Kid Wing
The Gallery of the Legion of Super-Villains
The Chemical King and White Witch Wing
Cupid\'s Wing - The Couples Gallery
The WaK Wing - On Deck Circle
The Post-Boot Original Legionnaires Wing
The Halloween Gallery
The Gim Gallery
The Substitute-Heroes Collection
The Founders\' Wing
The Wing Wing
The Timberwolf Wing
The Luornu Durgo Collection
The Mano Wing

- The Curatorial Staff of the Museum of Legion Arts

My interactive fanfic/contest, "Impress the Empress" was a lot of fun to work on. Thought I'd put a link here, since it fits this theme so well.

http://www.legionworld.net/cgi-bin/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic;f=2;t=000706

Emerald Legion, Chapter 1
"A tale of a fateful trip" - wherein three young people discover the hero within

*******************************************************

Rokk continued setting the tables while blanking out Imra’s endless questions about that new guy, Gorf, or whatever his name was. They’d been working together as crew on the Star-Cruiser Quantus for two months, and he’d thought they were getting closer, but now this new farm-boy from Winath had all her attention. She’d never seemed terribly interested in his tales of sports-action, but he’d made an effort, and now found himself pushing her towards Garth just so that he didn’t have to hear anymore about his ‘hidden depths’ or ‘simple strength’ or whatever she was on about this time. Figures, his first month off-planet and he’d fall for a telepath. Ugh.

“Yeah, he’s great, Im, I like his arms, too.” Rokk said off-handedly while running the sterilizer-wand over the table, assuming that since Imra had stopped talking, he was now expected to pretend he had been listening appreciatively.

<Quiet, Rokk! Don’t look, but those men near the viewing port have guns!>

Rokk immediately looked to check them out, and while he couldn’t see any visible arms, he closed his eyes and stretched out with his other senses, to feel suspicious chunks of cold metal beneath the exotic diplomatic robes of the three ‘ambassadors.’

<I said don’t look! You’ll make them suspicious!>

<I’m not looking, and you’re right, they have some sort of guns under their robes. I can sense them. But they're diplomats, Cadri I think, so perhaps it’s some sort of custom? Maybe it’s normal and they’re just decorative…>

<No, the are all very pointedly *not* looking at that woman in the green dress who just came in, and they are all thinking about their guns!>

Rokk opened his eyes and turned to see the woman in the green dress, only to be momentarily struck with her statuesque beauty and her clear sense of presence. She seemed to move into the room and through the chatting dignitaries as if she had her own gravity field, and he could see various diplomats and celebrities turning their heads and breaking off their own conversations to greet her.

“Madam Sarya…”
“Your Highness…”
“An honor, indeed!”
“You grace us with your presence, milady.”
“What was she thinking, oh my gods, that dress is so last millennium…”

Well, okay, clearly not everyone was taken with her, but still, the newly crowned Queen of Venegar was definitely drawing attention, and all eyes were upon her. Peeking, Rokk noticed that indeed, the three robed ‘diplomats’ near the viewing port were studiously looking out the window, suspicious behavior indeed as all other eyes were focused on the Queen’s entrance.

<I’ve warned the captain, and she says security is on the way. If we can just stall them…>

Cutting off Imra’s thought-cast, Rokk moved directly in front of the Queen of Venegar, “Majesty, the captain has asked if there is any specific refreshment we can offer you this fine day. I wouldn’t recommend Gandili Sparkle-water for just anyone, but there’s no chance that it would outshine your own radiance.”

Rokk could hear the gasps, and sniffs. The Athramite diplomat who had been attempting to get Sarya’s attention was muttering darkly, ‘The nerve! Impertinent!’ but as he was only three feet tall, Rokk had neatly blocked him while subtly attempting to steer the Queen away from the viewing port.

“Most gracious young man, that would be acceptable,” came the reply, which Rokk only barely heard as Imra’s thoughts boomed in his skull.

<Now! They are drawing their guns!>

In her agitated state, Imra thought-cast this message to the entire room, and panic ensued as Rokk spun to see three bulky blaster pistols leveled at him, or, more specifically, at the startled monarch directly behind him…

“Great galaxies!”
“We’re all going to die!”
“Run for the lifeboats!”
“This was supposed to be secure, I’m going to sue!”

Blocking out the sounds of the panicking dignitaries, Rokk put one hand behind him and pushed the Queen behind him while he reached out with his magnetic powers, certain that he was about to die, as there was simply no chance that he could seize all three guns before a single trigger was depressed. Just as he reached out, a sizzling arc of electricity suddenly played across the right-most gun-man, and he quickly changed targets and seized the gun from the man on the left, wresting it from his grasp and sticking it to the ceiling of the compartment with a loud clang. The right-most ‘ambassador’ was writhing on the ground, and the farm-boy from Winath stepped forward, pumping a constant stream of electrical energy into the paralyzed figure. But he was clearly straining to maintain the arc, and the gun-man stubbornly refused to go unconscious, just twitching and struggling to regain control of his spasming muscles.

<Focus! I’ve got the one in the middle fooled. He thinks he’s shooting his gun right now, but I can’t hold it!>

Even as Imra’s thoughts cut through his distraction, Rokk saw the man shake his head and quickly switched his focus to seize this man’s weapon as well. This man had a firmer grip on his weapon, and Rokk ended up slowly walking forward, focusing all of he magnetic might on keeping the gun pointed up into the air, hoping to smash the thug with a serving tray when he got close enough, only to belatedly remember the first man he had disarmed was still quite awake and active. A vicious right-hook drops him to the ground, and Rokk looks up to hear the clank as the gun he had pinned to the ceiling abruptly drops. The gunman he had failed to disarm was smiling now, and swiveling his gun towards the farm-boy.

“No more heroes, I think. Get the Queen, and let’s move!”

And then everything is a blur. The man who struck him suddenly goes flying over his head and he can hear an outraged voice, “Unhand me, peasant!” Meanwhile, the farm-boy has crouched in front of the gun-man he has paralyzed and there is a loud *pop* as his hands make contact with the fallen man, who then lies very, very still.

Desperate, Rokk reaches out with his powers and yanks the fallen gun into his hand and stands up before the remaining gun-man, who is now pointing his gun at the farm-boy’s head. The stand-off is broken as Imra announces the arrival of security, and when the remaining gun-man turns to see the approaching guards, Rokk strikes him in the back of the head just as Garth reaches forward to grip his leg. Just catching the edge of the shock through the pistol, Rokk still has no feeling in his hand an hour later…

That hour is a confusing one, and the captain demands detailed reports from the three of them, separately and together. The head of security, who was apparently shirking his duty, decides to make up for it by yelling at all three of them loudly and obnoxiously, for, “Risking the Queen’s life with your foolish stunts! Of all the grand-standing…”

Fortunately, Imra helps him to block out this tirade, distracting him with reports of things happening in the other rooms, until suddenly she gasps in his mind,

<Oh, this should be good.>

At that, the door opens and Queen Sarya of Venegar swoops in, and the first thing Rokk notices is that she’s changed her outfit, already.

“Your Majesty…” begins the captain.
“Thanks to the quick reactions of our security teams…” begins the security chief (even the Captain shoots him a look at this one).

“Be quiet.” The Queen says, in a stern tone that brooks no dissension.

Apparently oblivious to the social situation, the security chief blusters on, “It could have gotten out of hand, but the training our crew receive…”

His words are interrupted by a loud CRACK as the Queen’s dainty fist lashes out into the nearest wall-monitor, which technically should be shatterproof, but shatters nonetheless. Rokk hopes that wasn’t something important to ship’s functions…

“I said be quiet! And now, begone!” The Queen stamps her foot and points at the door, which obediently opens behind her. The security chief makes a strangled noise and the captain sweetly adds, “Please leave now. And, you’re fired.” The captain then turns to the nearest security person, “You are now security chief, Relfa. Please escort citizen Bro-kal to his quarters, where he is to remain for the remainder of the voyage.”

The Queen turns and the sour look on her face melts away. She nods to the captain, “Thank you. Where was I? Oh yes, I would like to thank your valiant crew-members for preventing this abduction attempt, the Emerald Throne is in your debt.” She smiles and extends her hand first to Garth, who, like the farm-boy he is, takes it and pumps it vigorously with a big grin.

Withdrawing her hand with some effort, the Queen’s smile is frozen on her face as she turns to Rokk and somewhat reluctantly extends the offended appendage. Rokk gently places his fingers beneath her palm and raises her hand to his lips, to brush a soft kiss to the amazingly large emerald adorning her middle finger.

Her eyes grow large for a moment and she twitches visibly and he can just hear the words, ‘unsanitary barbarians’ as her smile widens to grotesque proportions as she turns to Imra and just nods curtly. Imra smiles impishly and extends her hand palm up in the traditional Venegarian greetings to a superior while bowing her head, and Sarya visibly sighs in relief as she extends her hand palm down over Imra’s, hovering above it and promising the shelter provided by the ruling caste to those beneath them.

“It has come to my attention that your tour duties end this with this voyage, and that you are to disembark on Earth?”

Imra nods, and watching carefully, Rokk also nods. Garth seems to think that this was an invitation to share his life’s story and responds, “Yes ma’am! I’ve always wanted to go to earth, and working passage was a great opportunity to…”

“Yes, yes, wonderful!” Sarya says, with a little clap, getting ‘that look’ on her face again, and Rokk can’t help but feel embarrassed for Garth. Then he glances at Imra and sees that she is looking at Garth with a look that even a non-telepath can read as, ‘ah, the big goof, he’s so adorable.’ ‘Charitable moment over,’ he thinks sourly.

“I mention this,” Sarya continues, uninterested in the teen drama unfolding before her, “because I to will be dwelling on Earth for the next 12 cycles, as part of my training in diplomatic matters and galactic standards of governance. It is tradition on Venegar for the regent to be accompanied by a select group of champions, whom, in days of old, vied for her favor.” Looking pointedly at Garth, she adds with a warning glance, “Not that any nonsense of that sort would apply now, of course!” Imra is hiding a smirk, and for a moment Rokk loves her all over again. But the moment passes as the Queen’s next words shock him, “And I would like to invite the three of you to work out of the soon-to-be-established Venegarian Embassy. Your duties would be light, as the champions duties were traditionally less involved with protecting the person of the Regent and more in the performance of ‘daring deeds’ to draw her attention and reflect well upon her beneficence.”

“So, we won’t just be your bodyguards?” Rokk queries.

“I expect that I will have scarce need for such in New Metropolis. No indeed, the traditional role of Queen’s Champions was to function as heroes, as inspirations to the people, a reminder that any of them could impress her with their bravery and honor, and be rewarded with the opportunity to make a difference.”

Rokk peeks sideways at Garth, and he’s clearly eating this up. He peeks at Imra, and she’s looking introspective. Rokk’s mind is already made up, but he decides to give it a moment.

“It’s such an honor, it’s almost overwhelming! Can we have a moment to talk it over amongst ourselves, your highness?” Rokk attempts smoothly.

“Certainly.” The Queen replies, and from the look she has cast, she clearly has noticed also that Garth’s mind is already made up.

<It’s like nothing I’d ever even considered. To make a difference and not just be one of a thousand Titanians? To share my gifts and use them to make the universe a better place? My mother will *freak* out…>

And with that, Rokk knows that Imra’s mind is made up. She left Titan to get away from her domineering mother, and at every port call she worried about her mother appearing to whisk her back home. Back home, her prodigious telepathy made her alone in a crowd, but on Earth, her uniqueness would be a blessing, not a curse.

“I’m in. Are you guys in?” Garth seemed almost nervous, as if afraid to take this step alone. “You guys are my best friends! I can’t imagine doing this without you. What if I screw it up? I know these people laugh at me. Look at the dumb farm-boy, ha ha. But you guys are always cool with me…”

Rokk feels like an Imskian with shrinking sickness. “Um, yeah. We’ve got your back, Garth. This is the chance of a lifetime.” He looks guiltily at Imra, and she’s smiling to him in that way that he’d always wanted to see, as she places her arm on his shoulder, and the other on Garth’s.

<Let’s do this.>

You've seen her before but since this is her gallery in many ways, her she is...The Emerald Empress.

And her are the original founding members of her Emerald Legion.

Emerald Rokk...

Emerald Imra...

and Emerald Garth

These three soon began recruited other members to help form part of the Empress' Emerald Legion. Some of those members are:

Emerald Phantom...




and Emerald Dragon...

As well as Emerald Chameleon...




and Emerald Sun...

Invisible Emerald...




and Emerald Star...

Emerald Dawn...




and of course, Emerald Wildfire...

And last but certainly not the least of this initial group:

Mon Emerald...

I would have used the name EmeraldFire and I REALLY want to see Emerald Dawn with her arms down!

These look Great, If you have high rez versions or larger images I would like to create a set of desktop wallpapers.

Set, I love everything about your story! Really good. I certainly hope you have more chapters to post! The Emerald Exhibit is stickied all month, but the threads are forever!

Vee, I also love your Emerald Legion! I think the founders are my favorites, but they're all really good. I hope there's an Emerald Dreamer coming!

Love Emerald Dawn, too.

Emerald Dreamer...

Emerald Legion, Chapter 2
"Home is where you make it" - where three travelers find a place, and a calling

*************************************************************

Sarya, 53rd Queen of Venegar, Regent of the Emerald Throne, Keeper of the Eye of Ekron, was not a happy woman. The functionary next to her babbled on about the history of the building that the UP had ‘generously donated’ to be the new Embassy to Venegar on Earth, and it was an abomination.

“The Museum of Space, as you can see, was designed by famous Martian architect Rev Soon Ak in the quirky ‘retro’ style of ‘art-deco,’ which was undergoing a resurgence of popularity in the mid-28th century. A sign of nostalgia for a simpler time of boundless optimism, it’s kitschy, yet functional understated…”

‘Enough of this,’ Sarya knocked the data-pad spinning from the functionary’s hands with a casual backhand. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll take it, just paint the damn thing green already.”

“It looks like someone fired a giant missile at New Metropolis, it got stuck in the ground, and they slapped a door on it and called it a building.” Garth muttered as they approached the bright-red door in question.

“I think that’s what they were going for, actually.” Added Rokk, turning his own datapad sideways, as if the building would look any less ludicrous from some other angle.

<Well, it’s what’s on the inside that counts, right?> supplied Imra, with a cautiously optimistic tone.

Opening the door and striding forward impatiently, the Queen of Venegars next proclamation was in a language understood by all sentients, “Aaaahhh!!!”

“What in death’s name is that *thing*!!!” she pointed at the towering creature roaring in her face as her Champions prepared to defend their new patron.

“Oh, that.” Muttered the functionary, still shaking his nerveless fingers. “It’s an artificial construct meant to represent an extinct earth creature, called a Tyrgorasumething Rekus.”

<Tyrannosaurus Rex.> corrected Imra, pointing at the name on her datapad. Lacking a datapad of his own, the functionary just glared at her.

“Yes, that. It’s one of the museum exhibits that was left behind when the place was closed down.”

“Well, it’s appalling, and completely inappropriate.” The Queen declared huffily, “It stays.” She pointed to a display on the second tier, “And those brutish looking ancient weapons of war. They stay as well. Everything else goes. See to it.”

Dismissing the functionary with an airy wave, the Queen placed her hand on the animatronic T-Rex’s snout and petted it absently as she turned to her Champions, “Welcome to our new home.”

***************************************************************

What a difference three days and an apparently unlimited amount of money can make. The Embassy was now painted in a shade of forest green, with the ‘rocket-ship fins’ painted a darker jade green in contrast. Entering the embassy, the original foyer had been reconstructed into various meeting rooms and guest quarters, while the uppermost two floors had been cleared away and made into a grand open-aired throne room, with overlooking galleries that let to private chambers on the second tier. Every surface of every wall had been painted a dark metallic green, appearing almost black at a distance, and every door had been folded away into the walls when not in use, to be replaced with a gauzy pale-green translucent sheet of cloth that billowed in the warm breezes that circulated through the chambers. The soft scent of earth and flowering plants, jasmine, morning-glory and lilac, wafted along these breezes, accompanied by the occasionally raucous cries of the birds imported to flutter about these interior gardens. The roof had been replaced with transparent crystal of such a pale shade of green that it was all but invisible at full transparency, that could be darkened on command to an opaque shade of near-black jade. Wishing to surround herself with the things of earth, her new home for a time, the foliage and fauna alike were all species native to this world, and green and red-feathered hummingbirds flitted about seeking sugary treasures, while a mated pair of quetzal birds engaged in some sort of domestic dispute about their new living arrangements. Sarya hoped they resolved this squabble soon. If they continued to disrupt the harmony of her court, she might feel the need to execute one or both of the disrespectful creatures…

Just over the burbling streams she had constructed in this interior garden, a throne of green crystal sat, and behind it, relocated from it’s former home on the first level, towered the crouching form of the extinct earth dinosaur, one tiny forelimb resting on the back of the throne, while it’s enormous head moved slowly, examining each other resident of the room, it’s massive tail gently sweeping back and forth. Every now and then, in accordance to it’s programming, it would sniff the air in the direction of a worker and utter a low growl. Delightful. Extinct or not, Sarya *would* find a way to have a living sample of this species.

The room was prepared, and within the hour, her Champions would report to her presence, to receive their formal recognition. Settling herself into the throne and patting the head of her enormous mechanical pet, Sarya awaited the day’s business.

*************************************************************

“Oh, lords of steel and stone, there’s just no way.” Rokk exclaimed as he lifted his ‘Champion’s Garb’ from the box. Jangling and clanking in his hands rested two stone worth of metallo-mesh fiber one-piece bodysuit, which, in and of itself wasn’t too awful. Woven of a fine series of interlinked metallic chain rings, that Rokk immediately could sense as being composed of Braalian mag-steel, and further, seemed ideally suited to his own preferred magnetic resonance frequency, the suit looked to be form-fitting. The links were primarily dark jade green in hue along the chest, shoulders, sides, gloves and boots, with panels of lighter forest green along the under arms, inner sides of the legs and lower torso. Effective use of countershading, and not objectionable by itself, although he would have preferred that the colors be reversed, rather than call attention to the crotch. ‘And ass,’ he thought, as he turned the suit around.

Still, in his magno-ball career he’d worn far less tasteful attire, as he was well aware that the fans didn’t show up just to see dazzling athleticism. Sex sells, after all, and at least the Queen wasn't requiring him to prominently display corporate branding tattooed onto his flesh.

No, the questionable bit were these metal ovoids all over the suit. Each had weight to it, and had been shellaced a glistening metallic green, so that it was hard to tell if they were supposed to look like metal or gemstone. Also of Braalian mag-steel, Rokk knew that they would resonate with his own biomagnetic field, and be effectively weightless when worn close to the skin, but still, he couldn’t imagine not looking like a clattering ornament-drapped festival pole…

Oh well, nothing for it, he certainly couldn’t tell the Queen of Venegar that he wouldn’t be caught dead in the clothes she’d picked out for him. Shrugging, Rokk pulled the cold metallic suit on and stepped in front of the mirror with his eyes closed, waiting to see how bad it could possibly be.

“Wow.” It was astounding. The metal ovoids ended up positioned over shoulders, biceps, chest, hips, forearms and thighs, and didn’t only not look awful, they actually somehow accentuated his own musculature. If anything, they made him look *more* muscular, adding just the right amount of curve to look powerful, but not bulge out cartoonishly. Turning around, his secondary fear was confirmed. “Oh well. At least I have a nice ass.”

Practicing walking towards the mirror with a jaunty step, he looked a little cartoonish at first, but slowing his pace down and walking with a weighter, more deliberate step made the skin-tight outfit actually look like a suit of armor, and with the right confident expression, he looked pretty Champion-like and not at all like a teenager wearing a skintight bodysuit covered with shiny metal balls...

Oh yeah. He could work with this. Time to be a Champion.

******************************************************************

<Thoughts of mercy! Where’s the rest of it?> Imra thought out loud as she dug through the package, hoping to find more components to this ‘Champion’s Garb.’ Instead, all she had was a long gauzy transparent scrap of cloth that looked like the curtains Sarya had insisted on replacing the doors with, <Have they no concept of privacy?>, a few dark green leather bits that could have come from a Serellian squirrel, <Actually, the squirrel would have hide left over…>, and a bunch of flexible golden tubes of Titanian psi-metal, <It’s illegal to export this off of Titan! It’s good to be the Queen, I guess…>.

Imra spent a decent interval attempting to figure out how these various components would assemble to form anything remotely resembling ‘clothing,’ <Great archetype! Couldn’t she have included instructions? I had an easier time assembling a mitochondrial DNA structure in molecular micrology…>

Finally, it was completed, although Imra turned the mirror around to block the view from the door, so that no one would see her changing, and probably moving stuff around trying to figure out where it was supposed to go. The leathery bits ended up just covering her, in the fashion of a bathing suit designed to optimize exposure to solar radiation. And there were shoulder pads, which seemed somewhat unnecessary, since half of her butt was hanging out. Perhaps she could attach them back there? Nope, they seem to be necessary as attachment points for the cape. Perhaps some sort of butt-cape? No, that doesn’t work either. The warm golden Titanian metal flowed smoothy around wrists and waist and neck. Slender snaking tubes worked their way under her arms and connected to the various leathery segments, even serving as very, um, ‘supportive’ structures that she found to be rather liberating, as without them any sort of movement led to more, um, ‘movement’ than she was entirely comfortable with. It felt kind of like warm hands cupping her…, and rigid psychic discipline ended that train of thought.

The golden metal also snaked around the upper portions of her legs, and she found it somewhat ironic that the metallic ‘jewelry’ ended up covering more surface area than the actual cloth costume elements. The boots were, what a shock, dark green leather, and brushing her hands across the leather, she was surprised to feel fine scales. Apparently it was designed to feel like reptilian hide. Unless, hideous thought, it was *actual* animal hide… Holding the offending item at arms length and scanning the inner tags and labels, she was comforted to see those happy words, ‘genuine synthetic.’

Finally, the last of the metallic ornamentation attached to her brow, with a lovely smooth green emerald center-set and she was done, the box was empty, and she’d never felt so naked, without actually *being* naked.

She whirled the translucent fabric of her cloak around herself, and, as expected, it concealed exactly nothing. <Wonderful. Let’s get this over with.>

Imra trudged resolutely towards her fate.

**************************************************************

The alarm went off again and Garth looked up at it bleary-eyed. He remembered that the Queen wanted them together for some sort of official ceremony in ten minutes, so he might as well get up and get ready.

Oh, that ‘Champion’s Garb’ showed up. Cool. Ripping open the box, Garth pulled out a skintight bodysuit in a shade of green so dark that it looked black at first. The gloves and boots were yellow, and golden lightning bolts traveled down the sides of the arms and legs, while a larger white lightning bolt ran directly down the center of the suit. Metallic golden bracers, belt and some sort of leg cuff things accompanied the outfit. ‘Neat.’

Pulling it on, Garth quickly ran his fingers through his hair, flexed a pose and dashed out the door.

******************************************************************

Imra stood self-consciously in front of the Emerald Throne, arms-crossed and attempting to hide herself under her useless transparent cloak, while Rokk kept smirking and stealing admiring glances. Curse him, he’s practically wearing a suit of armor and I look like a Jazerri dancing girl, only not as pretty…

<Where’s Garth? I hope he hasn’t changed his mind! Great Thinker, what if he’s left and gone back to Winath…>

“You worry too much.” Rokk says, turning away, “I’ll go get him.”

He walks away quickly, before Imra can formulate a response, leaving her standing in front of the Queen, who is absently reading a datapad.

<Um, your majesty?>

Sarya looks up with a patient smile. “Yes, my child?”

<Is there any chance that there might a Champion’s Garb that has a little more, um…> floundering, she pirouettes around, showing her dilemma, <well, just *more.* Maybe something mysterious and regal, with flowing all-concealing robes?>

“Certainly not, dear. A Champion does not represent concealment or deception, she represents truth and honorable intent. If you are to be a Champion, you will have nothing to hide, no secret shame, nor display anything but pride in self. You are a beautiful young woman, and while I understand that it is Titanian tradition to conceal the material body in many layers of cloth, to admire and revere only the mind and not sully one’s thoughts with concerns over the disposition of the flesh, you are not on Titan. In this building, you stand among the traditions of Venegar, and as Venegarian tradition is prepared to honor you, I require you to similarly respect those traditions.”

“Did you have any other questions, dear?” Sarya finishes, looking back at her datapad, and Imra received the implicit message that this conversation was over.

*****************************************************************

Rokk stepped into the hallway that led to the quarters, and Garth came jogging into view immediately, somewhat out of breath.

“Hey, I’m not late am I? I thought it didn’t start for another couple minutes…”

“No, you’re not late.” Rokk said curtly, before putting his arm on Garth’s shoulder. “Look, Garth, I’m only saying this as a friend. If you’re going to jog in that thing, for the love of iron, put some underwear on…”

“Uh. Okay.” Garth grew uncharacteristically silent as they walked down the corridor to the Queen’s throne room. “Look, Rokk. I just wanted to say, y’know, just before anything gets weird…”

“What.”

“I like girls. I mean you’re cool and all, and I don’t have any problem with that sort of thing, and I like you, but I don’t *like you,* like you…”

“Garth?”

“I mean I hope we can be friends…”

“Garth!”

“Yeah...”

“Shut the sprock up.”

*****************************************************************

Ah, her Champions all assembled.

“Never before has a Champion of Venegar been from any world other than Venegar. By choosing you three for this honor, I break with centuries of tradition, and so cast the lot of Venegar with the United Planets, in hopes of creating *new* traditions, for a new day!”

“For it is not the blood that flows in one’s body that makes a Champion. Since the earliest days, Champions have come from those of noble blood, and from those of common stock, for it is the *spirit* of a Champion that is recognized by Regent. Heroes are not born, they are made, forged in fire and adversity, and you three have shown the fire that reveals to all doubters that heroes are not just from Venegar. They can come too from Braal, and from Titan, and from Winath. Whether you choose this day to stand at my side as Champions or not, you *are* heroes, and no honor I could bestow could change this simple truth. I only acknowledge what already will be made known to all, that we stand in the presence of noble spirits, deserving recognition.”

“Stand forth Imra Ardeen, if you would be Champion, but be honored no matter your choice.”

Allowing her flimsy cape to fall back past her shoulders, no longer attempting to conceal her body from sight, Imra walks forward and bows her head, placing her hand forward, palm-side up.

<I would be honored to serve as your Champion, my Queen.>

Sarya smiles, and passes her hand in front of her crown. A green glow comes from behind her hand, and when she turns it around, the round emerald that sat in the center of the crown has somehow separated itself from it’s golden setting, and now floats before her hand. Lowering her hand, the emerald orb now floats before Imra’s widened eyes, and swells before her until it is the size of a man’s head. Inside of the spherical stone, a great star can be seen twinkling and Imra can hear voices of encouragement, as if from far away.

“You see now the Eye of Ekron, the stone of succession and chooser of the Rulers of Venegar. As the stone chose me to bear it through this lifetime, so shall it now ascertain your worth to serve as Champion. Every King and Queen of Venegar will see your face, and know your heart, but have no fear, for I already know their verdict.”

“Place your hand upon the stone.”

Without question, Imra does this, and feels a warmth course through her. From the surface of the stone, the crystal seems to bulge beneath her hand, and before her eyes, two tendrils of emerald extend from beneath her hand, and unite over her ring finger, merging into a seamless whole. With a painless surge of pressure, her hand is pushed from the surface of the stone, and she now bears a band of solid emerald.

“You carry now the Champion’s Ring. May it serve you body and soul, as you serve the cause of truth, body and soul.”

“You may now stand down, Champion Imra Ardeen.”

The process repeats with the remaining Champions, and Sarya completes the ceremony, dismissing the monitors and delegates who had stood in the galleries watching the proceedings.

“I understand that you have not grown up learning the lore of the Champions, and that some explanations are in order. Please be seated.”

The three Champions look around, but no seats are in evidence. Garth plops down on the ground, and after looking to see that the Queen seems to accept this without comment, Imra and Rokk also seat themselves.

“The Champion’s Rings are composed of the same stone as the Eye of Ekron,” the Queen says, the stone reducing in size and returning to it’s setting in her crown. “It has been a part of the ruling family since as long as there has been a ruling family, and it touches the souls of all who have born it. I can feel the encouraging presence of my parents, and their parents, and many others I have never met in this lifetime, Kings and Queens all. Through the Rings, you also will form a connection, and the Rings assist the Champions in three different ways.”

<<Firstly, you will hear my thoughts, if I wish it, even from across the universe, and in time, you will learn to communicate with each other…>>

<<<This is awesome, can you hear me, Imra? It’s like your telepathy! Hey, Rokk, how about you, is this working for you?>>>

“Or perhaps you will master it far in advance of my expectations,” the Queen adds dryly, with a glance at Garth.

<<<She’s so hot when she gets all Queen-y. Oh Great Harvest, how do you turn this off!>>>

Rokk reaches over and snatches the Ring from Garth’s finger and places it in his hand. “Down boy.”

“Ahem. Thank you, Champion Krinn.” Sarya quickly proceeds, “As the Ring entwines within your soul, to allow communication, so too does it enjoin with your physical self, and, traditionally,” with a glare at Garth, “this also takes some time.” Garth is still studiously examining his left foot, which has apparently become endlessly fascinating, holding his Champion’s Ring in his hand and glaring at it.

“You will find that the Ring sustains your physical state, such that you will find yourself in less need of sustenance, and even able to withstand extremes of temperature, pressure or deprivation of oxygen. The effect is limited. You will not be able to enter a raging inferno, but you will find that no matter the amount of cloth covering your form,” she smiles at Imra, “your body will not feel a chill, and you may indeed be able to hold your breath for hours, depending on the strength of your lungs.”

“Will we be able to fly?”
<What?>
“Fly!?!”

“Yes indeed Champion Krinn. I see that you have been reading up on the subject.”

“’On Wings of Emerald,’ according to the poem.”

“Exactly! As you have seen, the Eye of Ekron is able to levitate itself, and defy the forces of gravity. This Rings will enable you to do the same, and normally I would caution that this also takes time and training, but somehow I would not be surprised for you to again defy expectations in this matter.”

Garth had already slipped his Ring back on, while studiously avoiding looking at the Queen, and was sort of hopping in place.

Imra simply raised her hand as if pointing towards the ceiling, and slowly majestically rose towards the ceiling.

“Hey! How are you doing that?”

“And now my Champions, it is time for you to take these new gifts and practice them outside of my Throne Room.”

<Yes, my Queen.>
“By your leave, Highness.”
“Yes, ma’am!”

***************************************************************

Outside Imra floats imperiously a few meters above Garth, who bounds into the air laughing as she spun just out of his reach.

“How come you can do this! I trained to be a pilot, I should be the one flying around already! And how come I got the communication thing first, you should have gotten that…”

“She’s Titanian, Garth. A born telepath. The rings aren’t using telepathy, so she’s having to learn a new language. Trust me, she’ll be better than both of us once she finds the frequency…”

“But what about the flying? This is unfair! Come down here, you tease!”

<Ha ha, I don’t think so. You’ll figure it out if you want it bad enough. I’ve been flying since I was a girl, in my mind. It’s just another astral dream to me, only this time, I get to take my body with me and not leave it sleeping in bed.> Imra is whirling through the air, gauzy cloak swirling about her, reveling in her new freedom.

Finally, Garth manages to catch her ankle, and looking down, he’s now hovering a meter off the ground as well. She gently pushes him off while he’s distracted and he quickly stabilizes and swoops around her, arms wheeling madly as he swoops through the air in great arcs.

“I’m flying! I got it! You have to try this Rokk, it’s not hard at all!”

Rokk just crouches and uses his magnetic powers to hurl himself into the air like a rocket, his particular specialty from the magno-ball courts, and then uses his powers to stabilize himself.

“Whoah!”

<He’s cheating and using his own powers. He hasn’t even started to use the Ring yet…>

“What’s cheating? I’ll figure it out, and then I’ll be faster than both of you…”

“Wanna bet. Hey, there’s the metro-dome. I bet I’ll get there first…”

<Not a chance, Garth. ReadySetGo!>

“Hey!! Cheaters! I'll get you for this!”

Great stuff everyone.

Set, I'm loving the story. I hope there is more coming, its really good to see some writing in the monthly gallery.

Vee, your Emerald Legion is awesome, I especially like the empress herself and Emerald Garth.

Sketchy, your emerald dreamy is excellent (as usual!)

Glad y'all like it. I've tried using the character generator for CoH to make up representation of the costumes I've envisioned, but they just aren't *perfect* and I suck at screenshots (they always end up dark and weird looking).

I've got two more installments. One dealing with the background of former magno-ball champion Kid Cosmos (Emerald Legion Cos), and the other revealing some of the alternate universe background of Garth and Imra.

If Sketch Lad wants to try his hand at them, hint, hint, I'd love to see 'em...

That picture of the Emerald Eye over Dreamy? Cree-pee! Yikes! Wake up Dreamy!

Wow great turn out and love the variety of work already! I haven't finished my new piece for this month, but here's a couple of old pieces that are quite green naturally:

Emerald Legion, Chapter 3
"You have a hole in your mind" - wherein the convictions of our new Champions are put to the test

**********************************************************

The UP sure knows how to make a new dignitary feel welcome, Rokk thought as he took in the amazing numbers of delegates and diplomats and ambassadors packed into the Queen’s throne room. The ‘Champions’ had been a big hit, for about six seconds, and then, as if a whistle had been blown, the delegates started spinning around in a dizzying whirl. At first he thought it was some sort of ritual dance or something, but standing back, he could see the patterns forming and breaking up. It was like some sort of chaotic fractal display, and the longer he watched, the better he could identify the power-players, to whom everyone else was orbiting. It was like a courtship dance, where the brightly colored animals dance around trying to draw the attention of the breeding females, and that comparison made him laugh, as one of the prime ‘breeding females’ was the dour Coluan Ambassador, Orin Fex, standing like a rock amidst an endless parade of people approaching him on some matter or another only to be rudely rebuffed, or outright ignored, at his whim.

Rokk was just close enough to eavesdrop, if he tilted his head just right, and a cute young girl who was certainly not old enough to be Ambassador of anything had caught the Coluan's sleeve and was standing on her tippy-toes trying to get his ear.

“It’s so green in here! You must be loving this, Orin, the entire room goes with you! But really, would have killed her to splash some other colors around?”

“The colors are tastefully arrayed Miss Guampti, and if you’d bothered to consider that the Venegarian visual range is centered around three distinct shades of what you call green, and that any color spectrum past yellow or blue is effectively black to them, you might have constructed a pair of lenses that allowed you to appreciate her eye for detail.” All delivered in a no-nonsense tone, as Orin Fex disentangled his sleeve from the young woman’s grasp with a surgical economy of motion. “As for your color, you are transparent, young lady. To your left stands Ambassador Ravin, reknowned for his lechery and lack of intelligence. Ply your wares in that direction.”

Rokk had been moving through the crowd slowly, pausing only to catch the last bit and bit back a smile as the young woman smiled brightly and flounced away towards the Talokkian Ambassador with a predatory gleam in her eye, apparently undaunted by her chilly reception from the Coluan appointee.

He wasn’t looking and suddenly there was a hand on his chest, stopping his forward motion before he collided with an older white-haired delegate and as he stepped back suddenly, an identical hand landed on his shoulder, stopping him from backpedaling into the Winathian Ambassador’s twin-brother. Mumbling apologies, he exited stage left, lingering to hear their dry exchange.

“Miss Guampti has assumed a new target.”

“Certainly not Orin Fex, I saw her prowling his direction…”

“Certainly not, although she made a valiant attempt.”

“Allow me to speculate. She burbled and flounced. He gave her a science lesson and a curt dismissal?”

“Just so.”

“Hmm. Perhaps I underestimated her charms. A science lesson and a curt dismissal? I do believe that constitutes sexual intercourse for a Coluan…”

“Very droll. And now she has her targeting reticles all over Ambassador Ravin.”

“Fish in a barrel. But he’s slippery, she might end up with nothing to show for her exertions.”

“Did you hear about her work with the Rimborian Criminachs?”

“Only that they signed an exclusive and punitive trade agreement with Caarg. Was that her doing?”

“Indeed. Five of the eight Syndicate leaders scoffed at the Caargite offer, recognizing that it was far to the advantage of Caarg. Over the next two days she seduced her way through their ranks, and when the final tally was held, they voted unanimously to go with the Caargite offer.”

“Breathtaking! Did they discover that they had been duped?”

“They did, but they were not mere elected rulers. Each Criminarch is head of a backstabbing association of murderers, thieves and extortionists, each waiting for the first sign of weakness in their leaders so that they can strike them down and take their place. And so the eight were forced to smile and proclaim their excitement and enthusiasm about their new trade alliance. It was a glorious sight. Then they piled back into their fleet of cruisers and headed back for Rimbor. Rumor has it they were firing on each other before they left the system…”

“She is a marvel, her father must be so proud. Do be careful, your taste for underaged morsels is well known, brother.”

“Oh, you wound me. Speaking of underaged morsels, how is your new wife?

“Most uncalled-for, I merely have your best interests at heart.”

Rokk grinned at the last, but noticed that the older brothers weren’t even looking at each other as their traded jibes, each facing the other and watching over his brothers’ shoulder to take in the entirety of the room, between them. There was no venom in their words, and he quickly realized that it was all for show. Their glittering eyes missed nothing, and their bickering served only to create the appearance of distraction.

And then any attempt at remaining a detached spectator ended, as the Braalian Ambassador plowed her way through the intervening delegates to stand right in his face. Ambassador Rela Martt had been a miner, and through hard work and back-breaking discipline, moved through the ranks of supervisor, manager, corporate flak, executive and was within a hairs-breadth of being the youngest CEO when she was side-shuffled into the diplomatic corps by terrified rivals, eager to get the woman they called ‘the guard-dog’ as far from Braal, and their own careers, as possible. She was the last person in the universe to be made Ambassador to anything, being notorious for her abrasive attitude, taste for micro-management and utter loathing of any idea that did not come from her own head. Absurdly, her stocky frame was draped in the frilliest pale yellow dress, with lace and many tassels, which snapped angrily in the air around her like hissing snakes as she maneuvered her fire-plug-like frame into his personal space.

“Mr. Krinn. I thought I saw you skulking around. I don’t know what Venegar was thinking, proclaiming the likes of you are her Champion, but it certainly sets her down a peg in my estimation.” Her meaty hand thumped on his chest as she stared up at him, “Do NOT do anything to bring further shame on your family, Krinn. You’re a screw-up, and it’s an insult to Braal that you are out here partying it up with your betters while hard-working Braalians are trying to restore the integrity of the sport.”

And with that she was gone, stomping away on her thick hairy legs.

Rokk set down his drink with a shaking hand, ‘Well. That went well.’

************************************************************

Imra had left early, complaining about the ‘noise’ of all the alien minds with their multiple agendas being a bit overwhelming. Thanks to the Champion’s Ring, he was dimly aware that she had gone outside, and was now either hovering over the building or perhaps seated on the roof, probably gathering her focus before making another attempt.

Garth had been standing in a corner, trying not be noticed, but with the amount of people present, it was hard to find wall-space, and it came as no surprise to Rokk when he checked the Ring and determined that Garth was also outside, near Imra. He’d noticed that Garth had become conspicuously absent about the same time as the Winathian Ambassadors arrived, and was beginning to suspect that he wasn’t the only Champion in no great hurry to be reminded of home and family…

Still somewhat shaken by the encounter with Ambassador Martt, Rokk almost dismissed the sight of a Karthooni diplomat shaking her head in disgust and waking out of one of the curtained alcoves. He moved towards her, but she just raised a hand and kept walking. Curious now, he moved quietly towards the entryway and peered within, only to see some huddled figures in whispered negotiations.

<<Garth! Imra! Get down here, now.>>

Already the whispering had paused, and someone had noticed a presence at the door, so Rokk just walked in, “*There* you are. Do you know how hard it is to set something like this up? We’ve got a hundred people out there, each with their own specific needs, and it would look appalling if we didn’t have the ability to accommodate our guests.”

The drug-dealer had gone into a defensive stance, moving his product into a fold in his robes, but seemed cautious. “What you mean, young Champion? I assure that the presence of security is not required, nothing untoward is occurring, simple negotiator of passage through extra-spatial rifts in the Vega sector, I am.”

“Security? No, I serve the Queen, and nothing you are doing violates Venegarian law. I’m here to buy. You sell, yes?” shifting to the staccato rthyms of gutter-speak felt natural, and Rokk felt soiled just hearing the words roll off his tongue, especially after his meeting with the Braalian Ambassador. ‘If she could just see me know. She’d kill me herself…’

Rokk hadn’t managed to make out the whispered words, but it sounded like it ended with ‘fire.’ Hearthfire was a happy narcotic, barely illegal. So Rokk picked the worst option, “I need Mindfire, and a lot of it. Payment will be in star emeralds.”
The dealer’s multifaceted eyes clicked as the man shifted his focus. Rokk knew he had his direct attention now…

******************************************************************

<According to the Ring, Rokk is in the left-most chamber.>

<<Stay outside, and out of sight.>>

“What’s going on?”

<There are two others in the room. Sweet concepts, they are negotiating for drugs!>

“What?”

<This can’t be right. Rokk just said that he wants Mindfire!> Imra started moving with purpose towards the room, but Garth pulled her back.

“He said stay out of sight.”

<Let go of me, you don’t understand, Garth. He said Mindfire!>

“You’re right, I don’t understand. But I trust Rokk. Let’s do as he says.”

<<Okay, I’ve convinced him that I need more, before the end of the party. He’s going to go back to his source. Imra, can you follow him without being seen?>>

<If he sees me, I’ll destroy his mind.>

<<Imra!>>

“Great harvest, Imra!”

<Fine. We follow him. We find his source. *Then* I end him…>

<<He’s got a man watching me, and I can sense a transmitter in the bag he gave me, so he’s going to know if I follow him. I can’t short it out without him knowing something is wrong, and I don’t want to just leave it here.>>

<Garth and I will follow him…>

<<He’s moving.>>

Imra spins around and grabs Garth in a passionate kiss, throwing him up against the wall.

“Mmmph!?!”

<Quiet, we don’t want to look suspicious.>

“Mm-hmm…”

<Watch it with the hands, buster.>

**********************************************************

Rokk stood frustrated, staring at the henchmen left behind to make sure he wasn’t ‘up to anything funny.’ “So, you ever watch magno-ball?”

“….”

“Do you like any sports?”

“….”

“Do you speak Interlac?”

“….”

Waving his hand in front of the meter-wide doughy pillar of flesh, “Are you even sentient?”

“….”

Rokk sat down with a heavy sigh. “Great.”

************************************************************

<<Okay, we’re attached to the hull of his ship, flying off to harvester-knows-where. I love this plan. So what’s Mindfire, and why does it make you go psycho?>>

<It’s a drug.>

<<I figured that part out.>>

<It gives most races a sense of profound oneness with the universe, and rush of sensation that has been known to kill people in poor physical condition.>

<<So, say no to Mindfire…>>

<That’s not it. The reason I’m ‘psycho,’ is because of the source.>

<<The suspense? It’s not actually killing me here, but it does kinda itch.>>

<They make it by torturing a Titanian, and distilling the neurotransmitters from her system. To get a pure dose, they have to terrorize her to the point of nervous collapse, and because she’ll never be quite as terrified by the same thing the same way, they have to find new creative ways to terrorize her to keep the dosage levels pure. Eventually she’s so broken that they can’t scare her anymore, and they discard her as useless.>

<<Okay, I’m on the psycho shuttle now, too. Let’s fry these creeps…>>

<We’re slowing down, I’ve told Rokk that we’ve arrived. Oh, prime mover, there are a half-dozen people here. I can’t hide us from all of them, Garth…>

<<Fine. Keep yourself out of the line of fire.>>

<They have guns, Garth, and you can’t stun them all!>

<<I’m not on a space-cruiser surrounded by paying guests, Imra. I’m not going to shoot to stun...>>

The landing bay was deep underground, and as the shuttle landed, alarms began to sound and various sentients began to produce weapons. The dealer leapt out of the shuttle in surprise as a meaty tentacle seized him out of the air. “You fool! You’ve led them right to us!”

With that Garth came flying around from behind the shuttle and cut loose, blinding yellow flashes of lightning flying in all directions. Two gun-toting crims fell to the ground, not even twitching, without even having time to bring their guns to bear. Within seconds, the remaining four present had pointed various weapons at him, but they couldn’t seem to get a bead on him, as he flew through the landing bay at breakneck speed, flinging lightning bolts indiscriminately in his wake. Swooping through the air like some crazed stunt-pilot, at one moment he was swinging around the parked shuttle in a deadly game of keep-away, the next he was skimming along the ground mere centimeters from the surface, flying directly under one spindly-legged gunman and blasting him in what should be a most sensitive location, assuming his anatomy conformed to humanoid standards. Based on how he curled up and whimpered, Imra assumed this to be the case.

Still, the three remaining gun-men had regained their composure, and the blaster-fire was getting too thick for Garth to dodge. Imra tricked one into shooting another, while Garth wasted a moment attempting to electrify the deck plates and stun the tentacled leader. Unfortunately, the plates were too well insulated, and a well-aimed blaster-shot struck him from the air.

<Garth!> Imra made it to where he had landed unconscious, a smoldering hole in his shoulder, and reaching into his mind, she screamed, <WAKE UP!>

“Aaaagh!” Garth jerked awake in time to see Imra standing directly behind the original dealer they had pursued. For some reason he was pointing a gun into empty air and talking while Imra had picked up a fallen man’s gun and was holding it like a club.

“I’ve got you now, female. Surrender.” the noisome creature menaced.

“Dude, she’s behind you…”

Whack! Thud.

“Told you.”

Imra helped Garth to his feet, only to freeze, as a half-dozen more armed thugs entered the hangar-bay. The tentacled leader clarified their mission objective. “What are you waiting for? Kill them! Kill them both!”

<Gulp.>

“Here goes everything…” and suddenly both Garth’s lightning blast and a half-dozen blaster bolts intersected on the hapless shuttle. There had been an explosive rush of air and a thunderous explosion, and in the blink of an eye, the shuttle was parked, on it's side, directly between the young Champions and the gunmen.

“Hey guys. Thanks for saving me some.”

“Man, am I glad to see you, Rokk.”

<I can sense the Titanian here. We need to get to him.>

“One thing at a time, Im. Crazy gun-men first.”

With that, the gunmen came around the smoldering shuttlecraft on both sides, only to fall back as a storm of metallic objects from all over the hangar-bay and lightning bolts drove them back.

<Throw the shuttle at them or something.>

“Can’t. I drained my reserves getting here and doing it the first time. It’s going to be days building up to that sort of stunt again. How about you Garth?”

“…”

“Garth?”

<WAKE UP!>

“Gah! Fine. I’m good. Let’s go.”

<Rokk, he’s losing blood. I can’t keep him awake much longer.>

A piece of metal hull fragment suddenly flew towards Rokk and hovered in front of him. “Can you zap this and make it hot, Garth?”

“Sure, why?” he asked, but already pouring current into the metal until it was glowing slightly around the edges. “It’s not going to hold a charge or anything… AARRGGH! WHAT THE SPROCK!!!”

The metal had suddenly spun around behind Garth and slapped onto his wounded shoulder. A sizzling sound and smell of scorched flesh assailed them.

“You were bleeding. It’s stopped now. You can kill me later, if we live.”

<I’m blocking the pain, Garth. We need to focus.>

“Block harder. ‘Cause I don’t think it’s working…”

<Look out!>

And with that, combat was resumed, as the three Champions took to the air, no longer able to shelter behind what was left of the shuttle.

“Science Police! Freeze!”

The gun-men pivoted, to pay attention to this new threat, as a dozen heavily-armed SP troopers pounded down the launch bay.

“Good thinking, Rokk.” Garth admitted weakly. “We were getting our butts kicked…”

“Yeah, only I didn’t call them.”

<No one did, it’s an illusion, I had to wide-cast it to get all of them. Strike now!>

Thanks to Imra’s illusory ‘cavalry,’ the three Champions quickly dispatched the remaining thugs, and the leader, four blaster pistols torn from his nerveless tentacles was backed against a wall.

<You will lead me to the captive.>

“Titanian. You think I’d be trafficking in Mindfire if I wasn’t shielded against your kind?” the ring-leader blustered. “Your powers are useless against me. Release me, or the prisoner dies.”

<You’re bluffing. You have no men left. And you’ve never met me, so don’t tell me what I can do.>

With a wet gurgling sound, the ring-leader flailed about and collapsed in a heap of twitching tentacles.

<I’ve got the codes to the door.> Imra thought-cast as she walked over his twitching body and opened the bulkhead behind him.

Garth nudged the twitching form with his boot, “Imra, you didn’t, like destroy his mind, did you?”

<No. He still remembers his name. In a few months, he should have re-learned how to control his limbs...>

Impatient, Imra flew down the corridor to a door and entered another code, to reveal a darkened room where a single emaciated figure, body covered with half-healed scars, lay enmeshed in tubes and wires and machinery.

“Imra, be careful…” Rokk began, but she seized the crystal helmet off of the man’s shaven head and immediately both of them jerked, and the minds of all four were seized as the two telepaths made contact, and the young man’s fear and pain were amplified through the room, endlessly looping and feeding back upon itself at the speed of thought. Garth fell over immediately, the new wave of pain blending with his own and dropping him like a stone, and Rokk felt his mind shuddering around him. He managed to lash out and shove Imra away from the young Titanian, severing the connection and ending the assault.

“Science Police! Freeze!”

Rokk just shook his head, “Great timing, guys.”

“I said freeze!” repeated an SP trooper, pointing a gun at Rokk’s head as he tried to get back to his feet.

“We’re with the Venegarian embassy and have diplomatic privilege. Contact your superiors.” Rokk said, with his hands raised palm forward in a show of submission.

“Sir, we’ve got the Mayor on the comm. She says anyone wearing a green ring is ‘a good-guy’ and to ‘give them all necessary cooperation.’”, interrupted another SP officer.

<I contacted the Queen at the same time as the SP. She’s covering for us.>

“We encountered a man dealing Mindfire at the Venegarian Embassy, which is our jurisdiction. We followed him back to his source, and have made the arrest. This is now your show, and we’ll get out of your way. But we need medical attention for this Titanian male, and our friend. Now!”

“Sir. I have no idea what’s going on here, but if the Mayor tells me to, I’ll take your word for it. Get these people out of here! And put out those electrical fires in the hanger-bay…”

************************************************************

They stood before the Queen, who was on the comm with the President of EarthGov, the Mayor of New Metropolis, the Sector Chief of the SP, the Titanian Ambassador, the Karthooni Ambassador (who was corroborating Rokk’s story, having also seen the original suspect ‘dealing’) and a bunch of other people that Rokk didn’t recognize.

“Excellent. This issue is resolved. Thank you for your supporting testimony as well, Ambassador Marin, it’s been a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” The Queen signaled that this meeting was concluded and the dozen floating panels winked out one by one, after an interminable series of parting statements.

The Queen took a pause and sighed heavily, and they shifted their feet uneasily. "Well, my young Champions. Not even twenty-four hours had passed since the Ceremony of Choosing, and you already have earned the gratitude of the Titanian government for rescuing one of their citizens, and, equally importantly, shutting down New Metropolis’ most notorious Mindfire supplier. As I have honored you, so now you so quickly prove your worth by honoring me with your bold acts,” she pauses to look at Garth, still wearing a regen-pack on his shoulder, “and at great personal risk to yourselves.”

The Queen rose from the Emerald Throne and bowed her head before her stunned Champions. “Thank you.”

She sat back down as they gaped, smiling slighty. “Now, please. Do try not to stir up any more excitement today. I have a full schedule.” Sarya waved her dismissal, indulging in a warm smile to her departing Champions.

Here are a few more members of the Emerald Legion.

First, at the request of Techwych & Sketch Lad, here's another view of Emerald Dawn...




And Sketchy's favorite Legionnaire...Emerald Dreamer

And here are Emerald Giant...




And Emerald Belt...

Emerald Elemental...




and Emerald Wolf...

And last but not least (for now)...Emerald Enchantress