FIRST MAGNUS LEGION
Angramar Capital City
-
Soundtrack
Composition:
-7th Infantry Division
-
Centipede Walker Battalion
-Artillery Regiment 258th
-Nubian Strike force team
- Anubian Scout Regiment 1st
- 12th Armor Brigade
- 1st Armor Brigade
- 88th One Sith Infantry Divison (Lightbreakers)
- The first and seventh Neo-Blade Squadrons (6 fighter Squadrons, Atmospherical)
- Anti Air Regiment 454th
[member="Cadan Tazi"] never picked up the communicator anymore but the resources and connections he had gained with his old comrade in ill work still were active however Mythos himself never used them, not unless he had to or would see benefit in doing it. An old commuicator in his robe with three different contacts, one being Cadan, One being the Jackals and the last being [member="Gorba the Hutt"]. Being here in wild space it was generally considered close to Hutt territory and one thing Hutts always liked was credits and slaves. the Ancient Eye sported thousands of slaves, they made up the back bone of the work force and the vast majority of them worked with the will of the gods, they would never rebel... the rest however... would fetch a pretty price.
"Gorbba... this is Cadan's old friend, tell me, do you still have hired guns? ships? perhaps soldiers in need of a paycheck? I happen to have a plethora of slaves and resources and no one to trade with at this time... Pity i know... perhaps you can help me? Lawbringers come on to my home I don't want them here, name your price"
Mythos stood out like a sore thumb in this sea of technologically superior soldiers and operational equipment where as he was garbed in armor that looked thousands of years old and a skull in his shoulder. New weapons had just been approved, the new factory of thermal detonators made sure that every soldier carried with him at least two and of course... the Cathedral ships in the sky, the Angramars, the God fleet that would ensure their saftey from orbital bombardment and aerial strikes. Defcon nine had been activated, every regiment, company and trooper in Angramar was activated and set up in preparations. Here they were doing checks, water was good, food was good, ammo was set, sensitive equipment was a go, night vision and thermal vision was good, logistics and encryption systems were a go, neo-blades were in the sky and the God-King was inspecting his generals.
"Jedi. Come down and Play. Seras, take the angramar"
The sound of pneumatic and hydraulic pressure was deafening, here the new walkers would be tested out and engaged in combat if the Ancient Eye forces were engaged in ground warfare. Mythos would let Kainan handle the sky with the ancient eye but he worried more about ground tactics and infantry battles as well as handling the armor and artillery from the front as he always did. Mythos was armored with his rudis, lightsaber, blaster pistol and of course... Several thermal detonators... one could never be too sure these days.
Intead of heading down to where the main battle tanks were Mythos headed to the coven of the priests as smoke and the stench of fear and blood permeated the air like a sickness and fog so dense and heavy that breathing became succulent. The last of the Jedi of the order halls were kept in cages for such an event, kept on the brink of life for ritual sacrifice to the gods of Ankhypt before war was unleashed. As he walked to the coven Anubians flanked him on both sides, he unsheathed his rudis from the terentatek leather sheath. He could see a young man, almost as old as himself before he came to Atrisia on his knees, beaten and bloody. He quivered in pain, the blood struck the sand as nutrients to make the grass grow.
That is when the chanting began but it was not in ancient sith but in the Maleibus dialect of the depths of Leggo. It was a guttural language filled with barks and a low hum of the throat, it was dark and hateful even when spoken in mundane words. The smoke of charred flesh either from beasts or from the breath of Thyphojem in his ceaseless hunt engulfed the coven ground and from the two shoulders of Mythos four heads appeared. In his left the head of Groom, his Tuk'ata, a beast of four hundred pounds of animalistic fecorcity and fury that yearned only for the will of his master. To his right three heads belonging to Thyphojem, twice in size as his older, non sith spawn partner groom and he snarled the smell of sulfur.
Mythos glanced down at his ritualistic sacrifice, the young man feebly looking upward, the one good, non swollen blue eye stared back at him without fear and with a sense of purpose.
"You won't win. Monster." He said, blood pouring from his lips as he spoke word by word, his injuries clear in the sound of his voice.
Mythos smiled, not of gloating or self absurdness but of understanding and respect. He respected this young man for his fearlessness in the face of certain death so he decided to give him a parting gift before he died. Hope.
"Perhaps I won't. An army flies over Angramar today to avenge your fallen comrades and yourself" He said, his voice brooking no hostility but a respect between warriors the likes only found in Atrisia. The young man looked at him in a mixture of confusion and understanding but also a measure of peace washed over him. Mythos nodded and brushed the hair of his face, the blood off his eyes and the tears from his eyes.
He let him have a moment before he ended his life, the boy had shown courage and martial prowess in combat, as a warrior he earned the honor of a clean swift death. The chanting became louder and louder as Mythos raised his sith blade over his head prepared to strike.
"A soldiers death?" he asked, tensing the muscles in his arms to angle his blade correctly. If he assumed correct a single thrust would see the deed done. The boy nodded and Mythos nodded in return. He brought down the blade in a perfect thrust down his spine, severing his life from his body as well as his head but he did not let go, the ritual was not over. Using his grimoure of power, the Ankhyptian magic plus his own knowledge of power in the arts Mythos focused on the essence of the boy leading it straight back to him. With the aid of the book of power, his own strength and the nexus of the darkside of the force his own skull provided Mythos was able to
force walk the spirit of the boy into the grimoure then into his own essence.
The chanting stopped...
"The gods have their offering, now we take ours..."
@Evoros @Ra'a'mah @Tristram Senan [member="Synthia Fellstarr"] [member="Itash Mecetti"] [member="Laira Darkhold"] [member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Miko Spar"] [member="Jorus Merrill"]
