Skirmish Blood in the Wild (BXP vs. EE)

[Gristle]

Wild Space | Lastwall

What was the measure of a warship?

Over the green and lush world of Lastwall floated two immense vessels, each caught up in a satellite orbit surrounding the world, bombarding it with assorted sensor arrays and electronic signals as they attempted to ascertain the nature of the planet beneath. Neither was armed to the teeth in the traditional way of a naval vessel, though to call them completely defenseless would mean ignoring the handful of stellar batteries built into their black-purple hulls, or to assume that the sharpened prows at their front meant that they were completely civilian in their role. More importantly, it would mean ignoring the twisting and cavernous tunnel systems where thousands of Myka of the Ykaradan and Ectari colonies prepared themselves for their raid.

Not all would be combatants, but it was rare for the Myka to travel in smaller numbers. Greater ones allowed for additional unity of purpose and meant a higher disinclination toward the separatism that often afflicted colonies that were away from their Nexus. Within each ship, a conclave of Synaptics would sit, relaying information and allowing the Thrum to disperse out to each Myka of their respective colony, allowing them to maintain a faux connection, and reminding them of their duty here. When they returned home, these same Synaptics would pass on all that had changed with another group, and the colony would be brought back into complete unison by the interchange of knowledge.

And they intended to gain much knowledge.

Myka did not like to work together with other colonies, but the Ykaradan were to play the pivotal role of their race to the Protectorate, and that meant their presence was necessary. It had been calculated and concluded that by forcing the weaker Ectari to join them on their raid, they might stifle some of their losses and still gain the lion's breadth of the treasured knowledge and cultural context that they desired. Neither ship communicated often, but a signal was given, and soon a dozen vessels were launched from each, silent reapers gone to collect the ripe harvest below.

Others too had been invited to join the work. A scattering of Neti, Draelvasier, and others of the coming Protectorate. Whatever their reasons, they were welcome as allies of the insectoids. They granted whatever passage these helping warriors desired to the surface.

Lastwall was outside the normal protection of the Major Powers. At one point, it had seemed to possess the sponsorship of a confederacy of systems, but those days had long since passed, and whatever wealth and honor it had salvaged had seemingly diminished since then. The fleets and massive armadas that had patrolled the skies had likely been diminished since their zenith, though the Myka had taken care to facilitate a ruse to draw away the others - several "pirate raids" in the outer portions of the system over the course of weeks had been seemingly sufficient. Perhaps if the inhabitants had been more vigilant... but they had not, and now the hungering colonies would take their reward.

The Myka had been informed that a terror strike would be launched near the military capital of Sentinel; though whether the outpost itself was within the bounds of the city or outside of it was unknown to the invaders, and frankly unimportant. They assumed that any threat even remotely near Sentinel would draw the ire of whatever planetary defense forces were scattered across the system.

In the meantime, the Myka forces themselves intended to seize temporary control of the civil capital of Valehaven. Valehaven was built beside a large river that seemed to span a significant portion of the planet's largest region. The Myka found this curious, and expected that there would be many ancient cultural treasures that had come to this location by virtue of trade over the course of millennia. Regardless, they intended to land, defeat any defending forces as rapidly as possible, and then to seize as many captives and pieces of loot and information that could be gained over the course of the day.

Anything that could not be taken would need to be destroyed, or else they may face future reprisals for their actions, and this could not be allowed. Communications would be difficult to knock out across the entire planet, but to destroy them in a single city in a decisive blow would likely prove to be simpler. As the dropcraft prepared to land, hovering over Valehaven, commotion arose throughout the city.

The two ships in orbit could scarcely be called warships... and yet they had brought war to Lastwall.

Spoiler

We're looking forward to a nice friendly raid on Lastwall between the attacking BXP and a defending group from the EE.
The Myka launching the raid are primarily going to be fixated on attacking the civil capital of Valehaven in order to raid it over the course of a particularly horrible day.
Meanwhile, the Sons of Khaeus are planned to attack a military fortification near the military capital of Sentinel.
The Bryn'adul have not officially returned on a large-scale.
Most of the conflict is planned to take place on the ground. Have fun and make some enjoyable dances!

TchKren’Anook | Sethrak | Vivi Irius | Rakvul | Vul'tsai | Feyd | Hastor Trosk
Aurelian Sigismund | Ingrid L'lerim | @EE

 

[Primarion Hiperius]

BLOOD IN THE WILD​

PRIMARION_HIPERIOS
IMPERATOR_LEGIO_I
FIELD_MARSHAL_ETERNAL_ARMY


LAST_WALL_SENTINEL
CITADEL_BALCONY

ULTRANAUT 101ST REGIMENT
ETERNAL LEGION SQUAD TASSAR

"[...] We cannot allow the Eastern fringes of the Galaxy to remain unchecked and uncontrolled. In the wake of the Mandalorian's Enclave demise and the bickering of the Lost and its neighbours, our watch must stand vigilant. It is from there where one of the Galaxy's most notable and vicious threats emerged several decades ago.

Therefore the planet of Last Wall has been designated as garrison and listening post. A regiment of Ultranauts with enhanced reconnaissance and scouting detachments will be deployed after negotiations with the locals went well. Navy elements will include only a few patrol ships to scan and monitor the area and offer a warning.

I hereby command You, Field Marshal Primarion Hiperius , take the 101st Regiment and establish the garrison. You are granted full authority to treat with the locals and counter any threats you find.

The Throne Watches.
Aurelian Sigismund
Overlord of the Eternal Empire"

His grey eyes had a hint of blue in them, a deviation from his gene-sire which appeared more frequently in the Maiors of his breed. The eyes now gazed down on the fortress-city of Sentinel, taking in the scenery as well as analysing it, his first command in the name of the reconstituted Eternal Empire was neither glorious nor special. But fortunately he did care for neither. Duty came first. Always.

The transit to Last Wall happened without any disturbances and he was glad to get to know the soldiers of the Ultranauts. Hardy forces, cold and professional. It was already a pleasure to command them, as they were not too different from his own clones in their obedience, but certainly more remarkable as they were conscripts. The Kalidan training regime was impressive, which made him wonder why his gene-sire ever left it behind, but that was a question for another time.

Upon arrival Primarion had set up his headquarters in the citadel of Sentinel, the primary fortress of the world. While many decades ago large armies and fleets had been coordinated from here, it seemed to have fallen into a tragic state of dust and withering. The massive fortress atop the city was largely deserted with only a token guard of the local noble remaining. Overall the world was in a similar state, beautiful but seemingly past its prime. With the authority given to him, he would try to make the best of it and potentially improve. Maybe the spirit of Kalidan paired with the local memory could ignite a new fire here.

He blinked. Tasks for the future. His troops were still settling in, they had unloaded the equipment on the landing field in front of the city from their cruiser before it took off and disappeared into hyperspace again. The first day was busy with moving everything into the citadel with local transport units and droids. His Legionaries had supported the effort, an exercise in bonding with the Ultranauts which caused some curious scenes here and there. It was strange that when two dead-serious soldier-genomes met, they developed efficiency and a bloody dark humour. Even Primarion was surprised by the smoothness of their comradery.

While the command staff of the Ultranauts was busy setting up their HQ in one of the ancient halls which served as HQ before and had all the instruments and computing power necessary, as well as probably more dust and cobweb than the rest of the Galaxy combined. The majority of the 101st Regiment was in the citadel, either securing or organising it.
Two of his Legionaries and a platoon were outside, inspecting the orbital weapon emplacements and ways to get it running again.
Two companies were in the lower city and inspecting the outer walls and defences.

They had arrived at a very interesting time. Some might say fortunate, others unfortunate. The meeting with the local leaders and commanders was scheduled for the next day and therefore no briefing or intel had yet been passed on to Primarion, none of the raids was known to him, nor that the already sparse naval defence was practically gone chasing shadows. It was with his own grey eyes that he saw the massive ships above the cloudless sky.

He did not need to narrow them to get a better glimpse and the only movement he made was to tighten the grip around his staff weapon which stood at his extended arm. With a thought he had set the regiment on alarm.

Spoiler

The direct confrontation portion of the skirmish is quite straight forward, so jump in and enjoy! Lets fight some moths and crabs!

I am not an agent-RPer and less good with civilian imagination, but for clandestine efforts I can definitely say that it would be in the Empire's interest to learn and acquire knowledge about the locals as well as potentially root out any opposition which was there against Eternal Empire presence, potentially in the capital of Valehaven. Just an idea. Feel free to explore your own angle of being around for this!

Tag List:
Ingrid L'lerim , Cato Au' Umbra , Trinity Harris , Wahlrin , Priscilla Li-Ves , Augustina 'Gussy' Nargath , Tikaani Azris-Vestfrid , Vyktor Orris , Livia Cadera , Nighthaunter​

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[Rakvul]

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Lastwall, Sentinel, Approach...

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While the swarm descended over the world of Lastwall, something else entirely had snuck into the system.

Out in the fringes of the system beyond notice was a single dark shape looming, it wasn't close enough to pose a direct threat to the world. It didn't unleash swarms of ships and fighters to descend over the planet, it wasn't an awe-inspiring sight so far out. Just three ships dropped off the sides of its hull and started to accelerate, their engines glowing a haunting crimson amidst the fathomless darkness and sea of stars. Their hulls were so dark they seemed to draw in the light around them, shaped like long knives. As power was fed to their engines these ships became little more than blurs dancing amidst shadows, moving so fast sensors couldn't even properly track them. They swiftly cut through the planet's atmosphere, using the oncoming descent of the coming verminous tide as a distraction, and a shield. ​

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But they moved too fast even for defensive emplacements to get a bead on them, as they descended upon the towering fortress of Sentinel like a predator hunting dinner. Out from the front of their black hulls came a twin set of barrels as they made their approach to this ancient, archaic fortress from a different time. They glowed a ghastly light moments before they sang. Each fired a devastating barrage that raked the walled fort like claws tearing it apart. Their speed seemed to increase as they closed in firing up until they were almost on top of it, that was when they jerked violently at the very last moment before impact. Each swung its bladed claw like swords, slicing clear through the tops of stone towers as they passed by, vanishing behind the fort and rising into the sky.​

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They circled around and came down once more like scythes cutting wheat, focusing their fire on the tallest tower of the castle. The blue, slanted roof erupted casting a storm of superheated shards and burning plasma down to the ground below, great chunks sliding down to crash like falling meteors. It would appear outwardly to be a simple passover by these reapers. They wouldn't notice the decrease in speed as they made their approach to the opening they gouged out of the tower. They wouldn't notice the lone shape dropping from a descended ramp as they cut back up through the sky. Down through a firestorm he came, crashing into the thick stone floor with such force, such weight that it nearly caved in, shattering its beautiful mosaic. The figure that stood was unlike anything this world had ever seen before, far eclipsing the size of mortals and delving into the realm of divinity and godhood, a living monstrous demon of iron.​

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But he wasn't alone.​

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If anything survived the ruination unleashed on the tower's apex, it weathered the horrific impact of nearly two dozen giants that fell around him, crashing through fallen debris their impacts like mortars against the ancient stone. To those who witnessed their descent, they were nothing more than gigantic shimmering forms beneath what could only be a form of camouflage. They would attempt to make quick work of anything in their immediate vicinity, before closing in on their liege, the High Warlord of the Bryn'adul Remnant. When they were assigned to assault Sentinel, joining their new allies the Myka and Sons of Khaeus, they were surprised to hear that the Darkener himself would be joining them. It wasn't a regular occurrence, and every member considered it a great honor. Through his presence alone he demanded discipline from even the unruliest Drael. Everything changed when he was attached to their number. All together they numbered twenty, a full company of the Zealot Order. ​

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It was quite the sight.​

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Whatever the room was before it was consumed in fire. Chunks of burning roof had caved inward, crushing everything and smashing through the contents. It was unlikely that anything lived through such force, but if they did? These giant predators descended upon them carving them to pieces. All the while the Colossus watched. Rakvul closed his right fist drowning his mind into the telepathic mind network through the prime shard. "Move like silent reapers. Leave none standing. Let Xiaq focus on me. Their commander's death belongs to me." He ordered Mykolon, Baedurin Zealot Officer in charge of the company. "By your will, Darkener." Mykolon turned to his forces, they began to scatter to the fringes of the room giving the Colossus a wide berth as he picked up Zethrogar in two hands. Rakvul swung it down in front of him then. ​

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Boom.​

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A violent explosion tore through the stone floor like a crack of thunder as seismic, and sonic waves tore through it amidst tremendous physical power. The stone was thick, ancient construction built to stand the test of time. But beneath such immense force? Beneath his destructive fury? It tore like paper, blowing into pieces and dropping him down to the floor below like a burning comet, a butcher to descend upon them. ​

Primarion Hiperius ​

Spoiler

• "Dialogue"
• "Hive Shard Communication"
• "War Whistle Communication"
• "Beast Communication"
• "NPC Dialogue"
• "NPC Mind Stone Dialogue"

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[Livia Cadera]

Location: Lastwall
Objective: Defend the city
Gear: Beskar'gam, shotgun, Ship
Tags: Draguum Draxsus

The overarching aim of the contract was to defend the city, the plan, was to allow the enemy to make land and then Livia and the other would sally force and eliminated leadership units to break the cohesion of the enemy whilst the heavier elements of the Empire blasted them from afar. If they were successful, there would be no leaders left to whip the broken front rows back into battle after they had taken enough ordnance to make them run home to cry to their makers.

"I see a cluster of large warriors two kilos east." she pointed out and fed the images from her dreamsight into command. "Permission to engage at your discretion" the reply came back quickly and Livia took no time to launch off of the battlements and streak across the landscape. She kept low to prevent her foes getting ab easy bead on her. She screamed over an artillery laid minefield and turned sharply around a rocky outcrop that sheltered a group of foes that were preparing to make battle. A few of them targeted her with small arms but her speed made her a difficult target and very quickly she outranged them.

After a short flight punctuated by nearby artillery strikes she spotted her target. This hostile must have been 10ft tall and heavily armoured, there were others near him but he clearly led this cluster so he was the primary target for the mandalorian assassin and her allies. She slowed down and drew her shotgun, putting a high velocity shell into a nearer and much smaller foe, almost separating it's arm from its torso in a single blast. Her next shot would be at Draguum Draxsus .

 

[Draguum Draxsus]

A S S A U L T
Location: Lastwall
Tags: Livia Cadera

The force of Dagruum and his Thrum'kul landed far from the capital, using the trees as cover, and began swiftly making their way towards the assault point that had been pre-designated before the ground assault commenced.

He sensed her before he ever laid eyes on her swift form, A roar of alert sent out to his men, only fast enough to prevent a fatal wound to one of his men, unfortunately he lost his arm but that was a small lost compared to ones life.

The large Thrum'dral senses were more acute especially with all of the hormones flowing enhancing them to their peak in this time of potential peril. The sound of a reload hit his ears as he quickly spun the blast whizzing past him a tuft of hair cut off by the small magnetic bullet as it flew past where his form had previously been.

Without further hesitation the leader of the Thrum'kul grabbed a vibro-hatchet from the disabled Thrum'dral and threw it towards where the woman had been firing down at them, the speed of the throw and his movements seemingly unimaginable by his size.

"Nakho jin toki chiori ki chaf ma kisha laz nakho eyak ei akka zhorre jin ven kishi zhorre." Draguum spat towards his underlings as he growled towards the woman.

Spoiler: Translate

Nakho jin toki chiori ki chaf ma kisha laz nakho eyak ei akka zhorre jin ven kishi zhorre = End this dumb woman of air so we can end them all and have this as our own

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[Primarion Hiperius]

BLOOD IN THE WILD​

PRIMARION_HIPERIOS
IMPERATOR_LEGIO_I
FIELD_MARSHAL_ETERNAL_ARMY


LAST_WALL_SENTINEL
CITADEL_BALCONY

ULTRANAUT 101ST REGIMENT
ETERNAL LEGION SQUAD TASSAR

Rakvul​

The alert had awakened the Ultranauts as soon as it was set off. Not that they needed much to be combat-ready. The regimental command was in the core of the fortress, far from its outer walls and also from its highest peaks. Yet they felt every hit in the vibrating rock and concrete as it hit many levels above. Nevertheless they issued their orders. Recalling the troops from the orbital weapon inspection, assigning each battalion a defence perimeter and alerting the local militia and volunteer troops to man their walls. All this happened without Primarion even having to transmit an order yet. He was simply monitoring it as he went downstairs.

Dust was falling like avalanches from the ceiling and stones around as he took several steps at once. Unaugmented would probably be shaken to the ground, wavering in their step as the three ships hit their citadel. He called his squad to a central corridor while the most obvious response to the massive shaking and ruptures above was an assault landing into the citadel itself. He did not know who or what would do it, but the answer and response were the same.

It was an emotionless reaction. Primarion did not think in pride or personal investments, personal gains or glory. He had an order and he had therefore a duty. That was to be fulfilled. Nothing would be accepted to stand in his way nor would anyone convince him to do otherwise. Until logic and tactics demanded a change of course, it would not happen.

"1st Battalion, Aurek and Besh Company secure the upper levels of the citadel. Cresh and Dorn as backup." Colonel Eren sent over the comms, the commanding officer of the 101st and the direct subordinate of the Imperator. The difference in rank was substantial, but integration between two militaries was never smooth and while an ordinary-born might resent to wield a large baton and only command a regiment, it was just another deployment for Primarion.

"Squad Tassar joins the sweep. Expect assault units or special forces. Everyone not Ultranaut or Eternal Legion is an enemy, shoot first. Colonel Eren coordinate the defence of Sentinel and the Citadel against whatever may come from outside." The Imperator sent into the regimental comms with his neutral but determined voice. His crested helmet with the blue lenses looked at each of the six Legionaries with him, their weapons ready, themselves ready. They were silent and still. In their golden armors they could have been statues were it not for the humming of their energy cells and powered armors.

Imperator Primarion Hiperios readied his combi-weapon, the energy cell humming in harmony, the readings telling him that the weapon was working as intended. He used it to point to the next staircase before he took it into a two handed grip, the concussion carbine set on focused and his scanners and sensors set to break the veil of emptiness and dust ahead. He heard the Lancers and blades of the squad readied as well. If it was down to confidence, it would have given him more. But it was not.

It was duty. Only duty.
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[Rakvul]

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Lastwall, Sentinel, Infiltrating...

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Mykolon, Zealot Officer, Infiltration Company...

Ghosts.

They were nothing but ghosts, hazy shapes hardly visible as they stalked through hallways choked with dust, smoke, and ash. Every step perfectly taken as they exited the double doors. He could rely on every single member of his company for their skill. Everything was drummed into them through relentless training, brought to the forefront from extensive battlefield experience going back three decades. In operations like these they were apex predators without equal, no Drael had greater precision than his people. Each member sported a walking arsenal stemming from the new creations by the High Warlord himself, the best available. Even the art of stalking through the halls was drummed into them, learning to move their giant forms with swiftness and silence. Even now he could feel the building adrenaline, the burning lust for battle within his kin, it was an infection spreading like a virus that promised them blood and violence.​

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The tower began to shake and rumble from distant sounds below, reverberating through ancient stone he could feel the very vibrations. Distant sounds of battle beneath them as they stalked down a winding starewell. It could have only been the Darkener causing such trouble below, the power of their liege threatened to undo this ancient construct at the seams. Just as they'd reached a lower corridor, a wide hall filled with statues and four doors on either side he could see them. As his eyes cycled through the forms of vision his kind were gifted with his vision shifted to a yellow-gold, blackened pulsating spheres billowed from the door at the far end of the hall, his gene-gifted senses told him they were coming even before they'd arrived. "Take positions. Swarm formation." Mykolon ordered to the majors. The company began to scatter through every door, while others climbing up the very walls to cling to high pedestals that once held statues, now smashed across the floor tearing apart a dusty rug. ​

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They waited carefully as the prey approached, opening the door at the far end of the hall. Out came a force of heavily armed, small humanoids in formation, showing clear discipline. They snuck through the halls and began to prepare to breach every door, others swiftly moving across the room. It wasn't until the first few reached the middle of the hall that he closed his fist and channeled the hive shard "Begin." The room proceeded to explode then. All at the same time zealots dropped down from the ceiling while others utilized their supreme strength. These inhuman giants bulldozed through the stone walls, colliding with men on the other side who were caught unaware. For these unfortunate souls? It wasn't a pretty sight. They were like trains running over livestock, bulldozing them a misty spray of blood, broken shards of armor and other scattering pieces. Others fell from the ceiling crushing soldiers beneath them like bugs. They hacked and slashed, kukri's glowing crimson as they bit through flesh. It wasn't enough just to kill no. For them? ​

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Slaughter was the only option. They hacked, slashed and tore. Bodies burst apart like swollen balloons, torn into pieces in gorey displays of blood while these inhuman giants descended through fire to begin the ambush proper, fighting sweeping the upper levels. Their foes weren't without their skill for they were highly trained killers in their own right, they fought admirably quickly adapting to the situation. So often such weak, spineless creatures would've turned and run by now, their resolve broken.​

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Oh, this would be fun.​

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The world came apart.

The Colossus strode through like a living behemoth, a towering demon of war and bloodlust as he swung the hammer down. Each fall shook the room and blasted stone into powder shattering bookshelves, old tables, statues, pulling down this monument to the archaic and forgotten. Rakvul moved with all the inevitability of a tectonic plate, crashing through walls as he bulldozed his way down amidst a firestorm. The mongrels opened up, taking dug in position as they tried desperately to stop his trail.​

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It blasted into his plate, washing over its layers of protection like water as he charged. The Darkener tapped into the magnetic power of the Sunderer, ripping one of the men from behind cover and clear through the air, once he came close? He struck him point blank with the hammer. Beneath the seismic explosion his body blew into unrecognizable pieces painting the glinting, spiked steel with blood and organ ruin.​

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All around him he swung the hammer in a frenzied charge, striking walls and blasting holes clear through them while its destructive force cascaded into larger ruin. For him there would be no hiding, no stalking in the shadows. Instead, he blew open a path through their world to rip them headlong into his. Rakvul opened his mandibles wide and blew a war cry through his war whistle nestled deep in his throat. Now? Inside such a stone monolith it was a deafening boom that rocked through the halls as he charged. All around him explosions detonated painting his form, biting through metal with destructive force. To anyone else it would've spelled death right there. To walk through such fury? It would've blown them down, casting their parts over the ruination. But for the Colossus it didn't even seem to slow him down as he moved forward. ​

Primarion Hiperius ​

Spoiler

• "Dialogue"
• "Hive Shard Communication"
• "War Whistle Communication"
• "Beast Communication"
• "NPC Dialogue"
• "NPC Mind Dialogue"

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[Primarion Hiperius]

BLOOD IN THE WILD​

PRIMARION_HIPERIOS
IMPERATOR_LEGIO_I
FIELD_MARSHAL_ETERNAL_ARMY


LAST_WALL_SENTINEL
CITADEL_BALCONY

ULTRANAUT 101ST REGIMENT
ETERNAL LEGION SQUAD TASSAR

Rakvul​

They came across a hole in the floor, shattered and broken in like if an asteroid had hit right there going down into the depths of the citadel. Only one of the seven golden figures looked at it, the others covering the rest of the corridor and entrances with their guns. The one approached, his long staff-weapon ready as he glanced down through the massive cavity and into the abyss.

Primarion did not know what caused this but judging by the noise and vibrations, it was not stopped or stopping. Half a heartbeat of consideration later he gave new orders to his squad. They would continue their path upwards and clear out whatever was up there while he followed the intrusion further downwards. The six of them should have little issues with clearing whatever was above while he would eliminate the other threat, either by himself or by trapping it in between most of his forces.

With little further thought the Imperator jumped down into the opening, following whatever caused this chaos.

✠ ✠ ✠​

Upstairs the slaughter of the Ultranauts leading squads was intense. But after making contact with the beasts, they did not push ever on or sent more man piece-meal into the slaughterhouse. They recovered their composure, utilizing discipline and their equipment in trying to overcome their witty adversaries.

Grenades flung, their underbarrel shotguns primed and with superior numbers they tried to come by the monsters they faced. It was still a man versus beast close combat, blood was spilled in such quantities and swiftness that it lay like a fog in the air, clouding eyes and masks alike in a thin veil. The Ultranauts advantage was their discipline and their superior manpower. Coordination between the two companies allowed them to take relatively superior positions and create overlapping arcs of fire, even in the corridors. Even if it took a hundred rounds, a dozen grenades to fell one of the giant beasts, they spared no expense to bring down one.

That was of course till the Eternal Legionaries arrived. Gold-plated warriors with superior weaponry and training, bred and drilled to physical perfection, void of fear, mercy or second-guesses. Even just the six of them were enough to halt entire brigades in their tracks and now they moved into close-combat with maniacal beasts.

✠ ✠ ✠​

What he felt as micro-vibrations many floors above, amplified and recognised by the combination of his increased senses as well as those of his armour, was now stronger. He caught up. Naturally he did, as he had no need to smash through walls, floors and bedrock to get where he needed. He just had to follow the trail of destruction. Once realising the intent or rather the sentience behind the trail, he activated a beacon for at least one company to locate him. That way they were on their way before it might become a necessity.

Apparently it met first resistance of one of the reserve companies. And it slaughtered them. A breakthrough-weapon of flesh. Primarion sped up his pursuit as he jumped downwards again and landed with a satisfying cracking of floortiles. He was getting close, hearing the sounds of combat ahead. Hearing the sounds and smelling the taint of despair. The Ultranauts were hardy, disciplined warriors, but not conditioned and still having a free-will, something he would not fault them for. But it caused their unwavering loyalty to be carried through fear. Brave, honourable, valorous indeed. He would commend the unit.

A short sprint through several broken walls, another jump down and he landed in a large corridor. Dead Ultranauts were laying on the ground. Rather all over the ground as their bodies were disintegrated by such explosive and elemental violence that it was painting a curious picture he had not seen since Exegol.

Ahead. Around the corner. Primarion felt that it was there. He ran forwards to engage.
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[Ingrid L'lerim]

Empress of the Eternal Empire and Terraris

Information

Objective: Kill the crabs
Location: Lastwall
Equipment: 2x Sigra vibroblade | 2x Striith vibrosword | The Soulsabers | [Hersir Imperial Uniform | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m
Tags: Gristle | Primarion Hiperius | Rakvul | Livia Cadera | Feyd [ direct tag ] | Open

"Galactic Common" | <"High Nelvaanian"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Ingrid was in the Netherworld visiting her daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren at the Sanctuary when she received a message via HPINet that an outpost of the Eternal Empire had been attacked by the Bryn’adûl once again. Over the past decades, the HPI has built up a communications network that reaches parts of the Netherworld; the parts where the red-haired woman, her company, or even her family have interests. Or even the Nite, since the organisation had one of the members of the inner circle who served almost exclusively here in the afterlife.

The mention of the Bryn’adûl brought back unpleasant memories for her. The Empress remembered clearly the days when this race had ruled a vast empire on the other side of the galaxy. And yet they had attacked the Eternal Empire; she then began to play a dangerous game, trying to use an empire to use them as a bulwark, not to mention trying to warn the people of the Galaxy of the danger. No one listened to Ingrid, and the Eternal Empire found no friends among the stars for a very long time because of it.

And now here they were again; it was the Eternal Empire that finally dealt the final blow to Bryn’adûl back in the day, and after that these crab-like monsters were gone. She and the galaxy had a right to assume they were extinct, especially as countless groups had tried to cleanse the worlds where the Bryn’adûl had previously lived. What has come to be known as the Scar Worlds. But it seemed that even a Galaxy-wide coalition was not enough to make Bryn’adûl disappear completely. They were like cockroaches; or so the red-haired woman thought of them.

However, with the Eternal Empire's assets under attack again, she could not stay with her family. As always, the Empire came first for her. So she said a quick goodbye to Eina, Geiseric, Amal and Alaric, and then she was on her way. As she was part of Netherworld, she had no problem travelling between Realspace and Netherworld. The only difficulty was arriving in a place she had not been before or was not used to. She had to find the right rift if she wanted to travel in a non-invasive way; and that was the difficult part.

Fortunately, however, Ingrid was able to create a rift, or portal, between the two dimensions herself. So she did so again, and soon a small tear in the fabric of reality was created, with Lastwall waiting for her on the other side. She stepped through the rift to the other side, her two swords in hand. As soon as she crossed, a few moments later the rift closed behind her and she found herself on the battlefield...

 

[Rakvul]

​

Lastwall, Sentinel, Ambush...

​

Mykolon, Zealot Officer, Infiltration Company...

Only the best rose to join the ranks of the Zealot Order.

When they were outnumbered, alone they were at their most powerful. Each one was swollen with mutations, carefully honed killing machines whose gene gifted supremacy was pushed to the very limit. Each were elite practitioners of the Maerd-Ka, supreme killers with a drive for high intensity, swift death. It was such an efficient killing form combined with the legendary resilience of the Draelvasier, that it attributed to a staggeringly high success rate on operations. Their relentless drive to disregard personal safety to ensure the kill, ignoring personal damage meant a reliance on their armor and thick carapace. The redundancy of their organs that including double hearts and lungs ensured they could suffer massive damage, and still push them forward. This was none more evident than during the conflict above.​

​

After the devastating ambush the Ultranauts began to regroup, pulling together to establish defensive positions and unleash overlapping fields of fire through the halls. They fired together in highly efficient, synchronized waves targeting the unstoppable giants together. A cascade of explosions shook the floor and blew the remaining walls apart, creating little more than a large room drenched in fire and blood. It was an extremely efficient counter that began to pull apart their defenses. Under the combined fire two of the zealots were brought down, cut apart by combined arms fire and blown open by a wave of explosions that burst their carapace like a balloon. A third had one of his arms blown off, his shields disabled. But despite such wounds, his entire side torn open he charged through the fire, detonating a supply of sear grenades that caused a roiling wave of incendiary fire to burst down through the stairwells and open positions.​

​

If it were any other force the combined might of such organized, efficient tactics would've turned the tables quickly, potentially leading to a rout. But the Zealots weren't any other force. Underneath Mykolon's leadership they coordinated a decisive response, reaping a bloody tally through the ranks their devastating munitions diced them. That was until they showed up and everything changed. Out through the inferno, wading through the bloody mists came the golden warriors. They looked little more than statues, their forms standing out against the grueling scene. These new figures didn't hesitate to breach the lines and start moving towards the fight. The air between them shifted as two elite warriors faced off against one another, each could tell this fight would be different. This would be the one they were looking for, adrenaline surged through their blood with the promise of a greater fight, setting them alight with the fierce promise of battle. "Engage." Mykolon ordered. There was nothing else that needed to be said, the fierce promise of the best the enemy could muster was too great for them to ignore. This would be different.​

​

Blood flowed.

​

The Sunderer systematically began to unravel the castle at its roots. Each swing brought instability flowing through the bedrock, shaking the castle off of its foundations. All around him carnage flowed with a simple swing. Rakvul dropped the hammer down twisting a soldier into red paste on the floor, only to pick another up and effortlessly rip him clean in half, tossing the pieces out of a hole in the side of a collapsed wall. Another thunderous war cry ripped from the war whistle in his throat enough to rattle the very bones. If their commander had any spine at all he would draw him here, he would draw him with the screams of the dying, the rumbles of their world coming crashing down.​

​

Ever since the fall of their empire the galaxy had been given a respite, a sense of safety that the demons who came from the stars were gone. It left them complacent and in time they'd forgotten how to feel true fear for their betters, for the butchers who annihilated so many of their kind, who took their worlds by storm. Lastwall would be a mere taste, a reminder that the wolves still lurked to terrorize the sheep. It would serve to remind all of them that they were mere prey when the true monsters came out, in the darkness of space they had adapted. While they would never understand just yet how much they'd changed, they wouldn't until it was too late. In time their forces would darken the skies of every world, but until then? They would die.​

​

Boom.​

​

A series of concussive blasts wracked his back in a great barrage, layered up and down that nearly forced him to bend over. It dug into the heavy plate, their incredibly precise blasts digging into the armor and blowing parts of it off. The Darkener growled and swing Zethrogar low, charging the air around the maul's head with gravitational power it tore apart the tile. He swung the maul wide and let the energy burst, unleashing a large barrage of shrapnel like a tide towards the newly arriving golden giant. The real battle would begin now. ​

​

Primarion Hiperius ​

Spoiler

• "Dialogue"
• "Hive Shard Communication"
• "War Whistle Communication"
• "Beast Communication"
• "NPC Dialogue"
• "NPC Mind Dialogue"

​

 

[Hraelga Nacht]

​

Spoiler: information

• Shard of Heresy [Sword]​
• Glimmering Oil​
• Skittral Spaceglider​

​

​

Lastwall, not exactly the first location Project 77 had in mind when it came to a first stop after she had finally managed to cultivate herself a proper ship, but it had to do. After all, save for her former brethren of the Brynadûl, did she really have to fear anyone or anything now that she had grown beyond the limitations of her species? No, she did not, there was in her mind nothing that could stop her from reaching her goals, except for may the Bryn themselves, who had the annoying habbit of being damn tough...one, maybe a handful or even a dozen of them...she could manage, but if she were to face one of their higher ups, one of their more ferocious and tough commanders, that would be different...or more like, she would try to avoid this sort of engagement until she had managed to fully explore the full extend of her evolution. For now it would be prudent to avoid facing those who stood at the very least within the same echelons she herself was once a part of.

Mulling over her possible approach to the planet, Project 77 could sense them, a whole host of strange, unfamiliar creatures were in orbit around the planet, a sense of unease overcame her and by extension her own ship started to shudder and slow down, responding to the doubt that befell her. She had no recollection of these beings, but other signs of life started to flow within her sensory organs, even that high above the planet's surface, beyond Lastwall's very atmosphere, she could sense them, the skittering, stamping and all-consuming dread of the Brynadûl. It was not the Titan, no...but someone else, someone...who dominated almost exactly like the Titan...

"Hmm... Rakvul ...best to stay away from that one and...whomever is that other, sickeningly dense sign that I can feel from there," Letting out a sigh, Hraelga allowed the Skittral to connect to her again, forcing it to take a course towards the surface. With another shudder, a deep hiss and a wail the Skittral complied to its rider's command. Slowly gliding down towards and through the atmosphere like a hot knife through butter, elegantly and speedily coming down towards the surface.

When the glider finally managed to reach the surface, Hraelga slowly exited the creature's innards, disconnecting her own armor and flesh from the organic ship's neural network as she slithered out of the beastly craft's belly, her feet feeling something underneath them which they had not felt in a long, long time: life, a planet teeming with it.

"Disgusting..."

She looked down at the grass beneath her feet, bending through her knees to caress the green blades with her alabaster nails, grasping onto a halm of grass and allowing it to drift away on a breeze. Despite her senses being overwhelmed by the sensation of this life beneath her feet, Hraelga's attention quickly turned towards the multitude of energy signatures, the multitude of powers within the network of life she could sense. So many strong beings, so many fleshlings. This planet and all who stood upon it were truly...disgusting, flawed and broken.

Her head slowly tilted to the side, her lips (yes, another sensation she had to get accustomed to) curled into a grin, revealing her sharp, jagged teeth. Yes, here she could find what she needed, here she could begin her own test. She wondered if any of those among the Brynadûl present or any of the others could sense her, if they did...at least she hoped they'd be too busy with their own dealings...for now, since at this point dealing with anything that could even remotely hurt her was going to be a pain.

"I do need some materials..." The monstrosity sighed, as she stood up again, slowly started to lean forwards and within the blink of an eye launched herself forwards with such strength that every step she took thereafter left a permanent tear in the ground underneath her feet. With swift strides and a brisk pace, Hraelga closed in on what seemed to be some sort of conglomeration of fleshling designed houses and fortifications. However, to her surprise...it wasn't the usual kind of fleshlings she saw flocking around the buildings, in stead it seemed to be some sort of species she had not seen before, beings she had not...killed before and as such, these were a prize. She would have her fun, she would have it now.

Reaching behind her back with her arm, Hraelga pulled the Shard of Heresy from inbetween her shoulder blades, allowing it to start connecting with her as she slowly approached the strange beings that were seemingly assaulting what looked like a fortified collection of buildings. With every step, words seeped out of her mouth. "Disgusting fleshlings, weak and putrid, broken and impure...fethid creatures only fit to become material for me to meld into better, more useful things..."

ALL WILL BE ONE

Tag: Gristle | Rakvul | Ingrid L'lerim​

 

[Primarion Hiperius]

BLOOD IN THE WILD​

PRIMARION_HIPERIOS
IMPERATOR_LEGIO_I
FIELD_MARSHAL_ETERNAL_ARMY


LAST_WALL_SENTINEL
CITADEL_BALCONY

ULTRANAUT 101ST REGIMENT
ETERNAL LEGION SQUAD TASSAR

Rakvul​

War was not a choice or aspect of their life - it was their life. They were designed, bred and drilled to excel at it. There was no genetic flaw of hesitation, no moral corruption of mercy and no pride induced lack of discipline. It was removed in the laboratory and replaced with an absolute and utter determination to achieve victory. An order by a superior is equal to the laws of physics, they just are and you abide them. An enemy is not a sentient being, a living organism of feelings, hopes, fears and a past but a simple target with individual weaknesses which are to be exploited. The most terrifying thing about the Eternal Legion is that it is not nature that made them brutal enforcers and devastating warriors. It was a human who did.

A stark contrast to a hulking Zealot, an Eternal Legionary offered a strange mixture of physical appeal with lethal martial efficiency. Their armors were shining gold, richly decorated and detailed, their helmets adorned amazing crests of red and yet they did not hesitate a single heartbeat to march into fire and steel. The disregard for their fine attire was only overshadowed by their disregard for the slaughter around them.

The Ultranauts are very capable troops, at some point noted among the best rank and file of the Galaxy. Despite conscription being the source of their manpower, their determination and loyalty to their state makes them extraordinarily disciplined. But even this is put to the test when fighting monstrous beasts. Those being hit by the weapons, be it melee or ranged, of the Zealots, were not just wounded or dead, they were torn apart. It was an uneven fight which their discipline, numerical superiority and squad tactics could only offer a faint notion of parity against. The space confined their numbers and helped the enemy more than them. It would have been an easy practice on an open field, but here, in the corridors and rooms of the Citadel, it was channeled hell.

A hell which suddenly became the stage for a battle beyond their strength. It were just six Legionaries which entered, but they were more than enough. Upon gaining sight of the enemy, their heavy blasters erupted with blue bolts in synchronised volleys of short bursts, overlapping each other and not targetting the same enemies. It was frightening weapon proficiency and coordination. They marched forward, the Ultranauts they passed retreating to regroup while other held up some suppressive fire.

Their Lancers and Concussion Carbines rested on their shields as they kept firing and advancing. The bolts which found their mark caused devastation where they hit. But no success, no kill or even killed slowed them down. They were going in close with the enemy and would shoot till the very last moment before they would draw their melee weapons and eliminate the threat. Shots buckled their shields, rounds scratched their thick armor, splinters and alien chemicals attempting to pierce it.

Primarion's shots were all hitting were they intended to. The massive beast in front of him was even larger than him and probably weighed several times his own weight. It was rare enough that the massive Homo Aurum Maior had to face a physical equal and while he did not doubt the proficiency of the alien for a single second, he neither did doubt his own superiority. It was calculated evidence. He was not alone, he was faster and while the weapons of the beast seemed formidably destructive, they were not equal to his own.

He fired again as he moved forward with his combi-spear, charging in a moderate pace at the invader. The gravitational anomalies as well as the massive destruction that monster had left in its wake gave an thorough impression of the capabilities of the weapon. Yet the tidal wave of splinter, shrapnel and gravel offered an interesting usage of its ranged capabilities. The Imperator dodged in a far too fast and smooth roll behind the remnants of a column, only for it to be shattered in the lithic hailstorm.

The master of the first legion did not linger, after feeling some of the rubble hitting and scratching his armor, and jumped up again to continue his assault. They weapon roared, the recoil feeling right in his hands. Since he had the attention of the beast, his aim was focused on the upper torso and head. Depending on the creatures abilities and armor, it would either offer fatal wound, but at the very least offer a distraction, blinding with the blasts and maybe putting off its aim.

Enough to engage in favorable melee combat.
​

 

[Rakvul]

​

Lastwall, Sentinel, Ambush...

​

Mykolon, Zealot Officer, Infiltration Company...

Their arsenal was a carefully curated masterpiece.

Out of all the True Remnant's forces theirs were among the first to receive the newest in Draelvasier arms and armor. The Darkener personally poured over every piece in a painstaking process to shore up defenses, improve old technology and erase vulnerability. Their new armor was considered among the greatest ever designed, a vast improvement over its predecessor. It was equipped with everything a Zealot may need on the field of battle from the coating that accentuated its cloaking, turning them into mere ghosts, or its modular system that enabled each warrior to personalize their equipment. A wide variety of wrist mounted weaponry that forged each into a walking arsenal. They were apex predators who thrived when the fighting was hardest, when elite opponents surrounded them on all sides. ​

​

Everything changed when the golden sentinels emerged.​

​

They were human there was no doubt about that. Their shape and augmented size told them as much, they stood head and shoulders above the lesser humans. But something was off about these warriors and every zealot could feel it. Their predatory instincts were carefully honed through elite warrior training, and there was something off about the way these new arrivals moved. It was almost robotic the way they moved and frightening in their levels of coordination and precision. It was almost as if they were all being driven by the same mind, unified in purpose. Through lancers, concussion carbines and a phalanx of shields they pushed back against the darkness. The first zealots caught between this horrific crossfire were laced from both sides by overlapping fields of fire. The very first blew through defenses and scythed into the heavily reinforced armor, while the second targeted the exact area of vulnerability created and blew them apart. ​

​

It was fury of such degree that it managed to blunt the drael's relentless assault and push them back, causing the giants to lose ground. Until their officer took charge and altered their approach. Each warrior activated the shielding system built into their armor, quilxyn bio forms projected shields of translucent orange-gold energy that swelled over each warrior. It wasn't often they needed to utilize such technology; their resilience was so often more than enough to face down the enemy. Along with the incredibly durable armor they wore, and it let them weather the storm of combined fire from entire squads. But now? Through such pinpoint precision and explosive power? It pushed them to another level. But such deadly fighting caused the Draelvasier to react differently from most species. It sent adrenaline surging through every vein, igniting them with the possibility of a true challenge, a true elite predator to bring down.​

​

They began to adapt to such an unstoppable approach. A group of zealots switched their rifles to the deadly burrower rounds, while others put up suppressive fire. They regrouped and opened fire as one with these new creations then, seismic powered armor penetration rounds with the power to gore through the toughest armor with explosive power. They opened up on the shields front to pull down their protective barriers from two different sides, attempting to force the warriors to decide between two different angles of assault. While they were pulled apart a front rank threw a volley of ravager javelin right into the fray, aiming to catch some of these warriors off guard. But that was all the time they would get. Mykolon drew his kukris, igniting their plasmatic edge. Alongside him another engaged his own kukris while a third wielded his very own glaive. They charged forward to unleash a devastating assault against these golden destroyers, who single handedly turned the tide of their slaughter. ​

​

This was it.

The emergence of this new figure who stood in stark contrast to the prey he'd butchered so far. This golden mountain whose size nearly approached his own, it wasn't often he encountered such things from humans. There were other species who approached him in size, but it wasn't everything. The gene crafted mutations swelling his body reigned supreme, allowing him to shatter the ceiling of what was possible. It seemed this new warrior had done the same, pushing his body beyond the physical limits. For someone of his size he moved with the grace of a dancer, gifted with agility far beyond what someone of his stature should've been capable of. The blasts of his weapon bit into the armor, digging through and blasting chunks off of it. But it would take much more than that. ​

​

A lot more.​

​

It was commendable how he moved. The hurricane storm he'd unleashed on the figure surrounded him and he rolled with supernatural agility, using cover and lessening the assaults impact. Not a second was wasted as he unleashed his own barrage in response, explosions dancing up from his waist to his upper chest and neck. Its focused power gouging across the composite alloy. It's focused intensity was enough to force him backwards, biting through its layers, nearly piercing through to reach his carapace a true feat for someone of his sheer size and a rare moment for him to be forced back. A war cry ripped from his war whistle, a simple word in that exotic whistles language tore through the air.​

​

"PELIET."​

​

Zethrogar glowed with a brilliant blue energy while the golden sentinel made his approach, its core whined as a magentic field surged, a blast of magnetic energy would attempt to flow over the golden man's plate. If allowed, Rakvul would utilize the magentic power of his hammer coupled with the metal plate of his opponent to rip him through the air with blinding speed towards him. Once he closed within range Rakvul would attempt to deliver a horrific punch to hammer him down, and through the floor with his free hand. ​

Primarion Hiperius ​

Spoiler

• "Dialogue"
• "Hive Shard Communication"
• "War Whistle Communication"
• "Beast Communication"
• "NPC Dialogue"
• "NPC Mind Dialogue"

​

 

[Gristle]

Spoiler: Equipment

War Gaster
Cytoplasmic Cataphract

There was no resistance.

The Myka dispersed throughout the city in great swarms, their insectoid wings flapping in the wind as they landed atop rooftops and utilized their vantage points to fire down on those striving to prevent their seizure of Valehaven. The militia were poorly trained and though there were a surprising number of them, they appeared to have done little to prepare for the event of invasion and now found themselves isolated and swiftly torn apart by the roving bands of hivemind-linked raiders.

Occasional war droids were the most devastating foe to face since the neurotoxins and chemicals in the Myka War Gasters were designed primarily to impact organic beings, but enough corrosive liquid splattered upon these and the occasional exercise in brutal force was sufficient to scrap even these designed defenders.

Gristle looked upward, eyes glinting across his various kindred as they went about their dire and horrific work. He observed as a particularly senescent alien was lifted upward into the air by a pair of Workers. These intended to bring him back to be their captive, but the older individual had snuck a knife into his palm and a quick gash on the Worker's back thigh was sufficient to shock the Myka. Down the body fell, plummeting through the air, and then with a thud that was equally dull and wet, the resistance posed by the elder ceased.

The War-Form coaxed his musculature into locomotion and soon hovered over the corpse. He reached down with surprising delicateness, lifting the man by the wispy strands of brown hair on his head and observing the cranial damage that had caused his expiration. Gristle's digits wormed there way through shattered chunks of tissue and cranium, whittling away at loosened pieces like a skilled carpenter, allowing the gory samples to sink to the floor.

There - the brain and already it was attempting to ooze its way out of the hole that Gristle had made for it, eager for its final destination. The body was lifted upward completely so that gravity now sent the juices of the corpses toward the eager maw of the Myka, and he drank deeply of the delightful viscera. When at last those last portions of neural matter had been consumed, he opened wide his maw further and began the far more destructive work of consuming the remainder of the body.

He'd made not insignificant progress when it became time to leave to assist with other matters. He watched through the Thrum as the forces of the Ykaradan colony began to seize command of vital thoroughfares and to take captives in earnest. The majority of those who took up residence in Valehaven would be kept alive for further experimentation and consumption. So to an onlooker, it may have seemed that the Myka were merely taking slaves or hostages and that they had no intention of ever harming the civilian population present.

Violent insects had already taken command of the city's communication system and were in the process of dismantling it and doing their utmost to guarantee that any record of their arrival was being obliterated from the records. Gristle looked through the eyes of a Crafter in the process of keying in new commands and information requests on a humanoid terminal. They did not understand most of the way these systems worked, though their alliance with the Neti and the Draelvasier had provided some insights, and their own explorations throughout the galaxy prior to this raid had provided additional opportunities at quelling their insatiable curiosity.

Gristle joined a nearby Worker and the Nanitic crawling upon her back as they attempted to prevent the hemorrhaging of a local humanoid. Gristle knew little about the nature of this particular species, but evidently it had suffered a serious gash from the blades of the Myka while attempting to flee them. The strike had been meant to incapacitate according to the Worker, but evidently the smooth and pudgy skin of the mammal had proven far less resistant than expected.

Evisceration was a nasty way to go, but perhaps the horrible demise of the mammal would provide insight. The War Gaster was raised and pointed into the wound, and a thick yellow-white goo poured forward, flooding the wound with the Amniogenetic fluid that the Myka used to heal their own by reducing portions of their body to their amniotic state. It seemed unlikely that this would work, and when the body began to convulse and shake in the throes of chemically induced shock as the body was overflooded with the substance, it became evident that the process had been... insufficiently helpful.

"Direct attention to local medical facilities - we will take their experts and their medicines." He commanded, his broadcast dispatching through the Thrum to an eager and awaiting swarm of Myka.

The encroaching of - was it a Draelvasier? - caught the attention of the swarm. It only took a single set of eyes laid on the entity for the entire colony to become aware of it, and as it came all the closer to Gristle and his compatriots, it seemed to speak in a language that was only barely understood by the insectoids. This one was not brought to the planet by the Myka... so why had it come? Why was it in this area of the conflict instead of providing the greater distraction with the others?

The Draelvasier whistling tongue was strange, difficult to replicate, but the Myka were high-pitched organisms, and so the occasional tone could be reached with sufficient effort and vocal manipulation.

"Ally... comes... he-he-" The contortion here was painful, but Gristle had suffered worse. "Heeeeereeeee. Why?"

Hraelga Nacht

 

[Hraelga Nacht]

​

Spoiler: information

• Shard of Heresy [Sword]​
• Glimmering Oil​
• Skittral Spaceglider​

​

​

As she approached, the former Marauder's mouth practically went agape when she could finally sense and see these strange beings she had never seen before. Her sharp, jagged teeth belied her true predatory nature, and despite her appearance now holding a lot of similarities to the fleshlings the Myka were collecting for a whole variety of purposes, it was clear from these moth-like beings' horrid sounding, but nonetheless somewhat understandable speech that she was still perceived as a Drael to some degree.

"Ally...??" Hraelga turned her head a bit down, looking upon the strange creature, the eyes behind the massive headcrest turning from side to side to take in the numbers of these...things. "You...you are Drael?"

Her movements as she stood still, jerking and snapping, almost mechanical, belied her confusion, but also a certain degree of almost childish interest and curiosity. She did not know what to think of this. It had been so long ever since she had turned her back to the Brynadûl and had fled from the possible wrath of the Titan Tathra Khaeus ; her original creator. So long that things...might have changed and the once xenophobic and selfproclaimed beings of perfection were no longer as pure-minded or pureblooded as they had been.

Still, these beings standing before her, chattering and emanating strange sounds of high pitches and clicks that barely reached an audible level were at the very least...interesting...

"If you are Drael...you are a threat," The Perfaected Hraelesh' free hand reached forward towards the closest of the Myka, forcing her own memories through them into the very hive of the Myka themselves in order to make them understand. In but an instant, they'd have seen flashes of the Former marauder ordering a detachment of Zealots into battle, bossing around a Brute general. They'd see flashes of a dead and dissected Drael on a metal slab, surrounded by similar technological equipment as that which they had seen being used by the fleshlings they'd been rounding up. They would hear Hraelga's original voice call out for the culling of the general's own detachment to avoid the image of weakness, her fight and subsequent loss against the brute general...but perhaps most hauntingly, the seering disapproving eyes of the Titan.

"I am Perfaection..." Flashes of her flying through space in a needle, running from hunters and her eventual capture, moments of her torture, her madness haunted by the Titan. They could see the burning red eyes of a man on the other side of the containment, they could see how Hraelga eventually broke out and gleefully ripped apart her captors, how she incinerated a Drael who looked like a mutated cancerous blob, how she tore through the beast she now had crafted into her ship...they saw it all and would feel it all; the pain, the fear, the rage...the hunger.

"Are you Drael or are you not?"

Tag: Gristle | Rakvul | Ingrid L'lerim​

 

[Primarion Hiperius]

​

PRIMARION_HIPERIOS
IMPERATOR_LEGIO_I
FIELD_MARSHAL_ETERNAL_ARMY


LAST_WALL_SENTINEL
CITADEL_BALCONY

ULTRANAUT 101ST REGIMENT
ETERNAL LEGION SQUAD TASSAR

Rakvul​

Centurion Fabian Tassar belonged to the firstborn of the Eternal Legion. He knew his purpose and that it was tied to his life, and that his life was worth as much as he could achieve in it till his fall. He was a soldier, a figure in the grandest battle the Galaxy had ever seen, but just a figure. It was not making him disillusioned about what he was, nor did the fact of his expendability make him fight any less fierce. He simply did not care. He simply was not able to care. Pride and doubt were two things every Legionary was born without.

The fact that he belong to Legio I Invicta, the first of the Legions, installed a certain sense of obligation in him and his brethren. An obligation to live up to the high expectations of the First Imperator Hiperius. This obligation was paid in fulfilling the orders he received to the latter, to excel in his duties and to make his squad excel in them as well. No room for mediocrity, no space for contemplation, no margin for error.

His squad, even if lacking its two heavy weapon specialists, Sister Valeria and Brother Vorenus, who were with the company inspecting the orbital weaponry, consisted of five exemplarily drilled bringers of death. For more than twenty years the martial doctrine was pushed into them, from Death Troopers, Mandalorians, Knights of Zakuul and Wolfguards under the ever watchful and all-seeing eyes of the High Imperator himself. Drilled at sword, blaster, shield and unarmed combat, they did not even consider the approach to this enemy for a heartbeat.

Their golden warplate suffered, even with their shields raised to protect them. The brutish ammo the enemy was using, was effective and he was not surprised to see the molten and exploded corpses of Ultranauts all about. It was effective, very much so. As soon as the enemy stopped stumbling from their initial attack, the squad started to engage seemingly individually. Sister Macharia's shoulder was blown off and with it her Concussion carbine, yet she yielded no sound of pain as she pushed forward against the brutes, slamming her shield into them before drawing her gladius. Brother Leontus threw away his shield, pierced by a savage javeling, having cut off half of his hand as well.

The unit reacted indifferently to the change of directions and numerical superiority. Despite each of them picking their own targets, the integrated network they were using with mere mind-impulses transmitting information like openings, weaknesses, cover and the weather, they worked in perfect unity still. A shot fired into the flank of a brother's enemy, a stab towards the sister's attacker. Tassar was directing the fight as good as possible considering the tight terrain and savagery of the melee.

He was honestly surprised by the frenzy and resilience of the enemy. He knew and had studied the reports of his ancestors against the Bryn'adûl, but it was his first fight against them. Valuable information of their endurance and brawn were gathered as well as their highly effective tech. But the study of the enemy, while useful to exploit, would have to wait till the destroyed the one in front. With having the full attention of the invaders, he ordered the Ultranauts to renew their assault as well, to pick up superior firing positions and surround the enemy as good as possible.

He felt pieces of his armor disintegrating, pieces of auraplast ripped out of them while he discarded his Lancer and drew his blade.

Other than his Centurion, the First Imperator did not suffer from startling or surprises, despite this being beyond any physical strength and endurance he had ever witnessed. It was a problem and every problem had a solution. The moment he saw the titanic figure and analysed its movements, Primarion understood that he was faster. Maybe not much, but he was. His spear also was giving him the range advantage. Two pillars to build upon. He did not succumb to arrogance by prematurely judging the combat intelligence or overall intelligence of this being who he identified as an offspring of the Bryn'adûl species.

He had zero ability to counter the magnetic attack, even though the auraplast did not perfectly catch on to it, the mail and scale he wore did. So the First Imperator was accelerated towards the warmongering beast but despair was nowhere to be found. It was a simply calculation, unless the beast thought that letting him crash into the maul was enough, the magnetic pull would cease when he got very close. The master of the first legion prepared for that.

Instead of resisting the pull, he tried to accelerate it with any way possible, his staff weapon in one hand as he more or less flew towards Rakvul. As soon as he was close and the monstrous fist was incoming to punch him, he felt how the pull was released. His foot just touched the ground but explosively moved him forward, drawing his gladius to burry it into the beasts leg as he dashed past the beast and below its fist to try to get behind it.

If successful Primarion would swing around his voulge, sending a flurry of quick, leveraged strikes against the monsters rear, especially towards its legs.
​

 

[Feyd]

Lastwall - Military Capitol

Glory. For Glory and honour did the Sons of Khaeus attack Lastwall with bluster and blind eagerness. Today was to be their day, called upon by the allies of the Draelvasier, whispers of the great Titans returned spurred the Sons of Khaeus to action as all their mustered might came to Lastwall. A dozen stolen ships drifted through the air of the battle, first blood still fresh on the battlefield as they arrived. There were no fighters, no support crafts among them, ships with only enough fuel and tender to crumble into Lastwalls surface, crushing the ground and people underneath as they carelessly plummeted into whatever they deemed of importance. Feyd stood at the front of their line, Hastor was absent from this conflict. Hastor had been wounded at Ord Mantell and offered him the honour of leading the battle.

Feyd, honourable paladin of the Sons accepted. It was for the great Khaeus that he led this glorious attack. To actually fight alongside Drael was the ultimate goal of any Son. The others, freshly baked into their armours in preparation for the fight ahead, sealed in their armours as mutagens forced their bodies to adapt, carapace to form on their flesh. Many of his brothers ached in pain at his side, gripping their weapons, old Draelvaiser glaives and armaments with taut joints rather than closed fists. But it did not matter, this was the adversity they faced willingly to be worth of fighting alongside a superior race.

"Finally, here we are. Brothers, today is a day we have long dreamt of!"

Feyd turned to the Sons under his command, brothers all. Clad in drael armour, even as misshapen and battered, it was a glorious sight to behold. Feyd greeted them with a toothy grin. He took the inactive Mistral blade from his hip into his right hand, and a Mangler into his left.

"We will fight alongside the Drael today! Today we will earn our place at Khaeus side!" With wide eyes, Feyd cheered on his fellow Sons, they too were enthralled by the mere idea of it.

Battle-ready, bloodthirsty, they steeled themselves as the ship shook with resistance from below, and with a sudden crash - they reached their destination. When the doors opened, they were the last of their shuttles to reach land. There were no Draelvasier in sight, no fellow warriors. Only the bulwark of the Eternal Empire defences at Bastion. In minutes, droves of the Sons of Khaeus fell as they became embattled with Ultranaut soldiers, slaughtered as they made use of their home advantage - the ships of the Sons of Khaeus exploded behind them, and their bodies piled high.

For every five of their own, a single Ultranaut or less fell. But Feyd would not be denied, he cut through what came in his way. Pushed through wounds, and ignored the pain as he hacked and slashed. His mangler disappeared in the flurry. His armour was scorched and his blood oozed from open wounds, every Ultranaut that fell to his blade managed a blow of their own. He was faster, and stronger, but used to slaughtering villagers and pirates. Not skilled warriors. A frustrating realisation that he was truly no Drael warrior yet, but he saw his chance ahead of him. A courtyard where many of his brothers lay dead among half a dozen Ultranaut corpses.

A woman of import. Their leader had appeared from nothing as a rift closed behind her. A powerful being undoubtedly. This would be his chance for glory. To be seen by Khaeus, to have the golden gaze of the God-Titan fall upon him.

Feyd brandished his Mistral Blade.

Ingrid L'lerim | Primarion Hiperius ​

 

[Gristle]

Spoiler: Equipment

War Gaster
Cytoplasmic Cataphract

Gristle had seen mutants before. Any colony that reached the kind of population density that Ykaradan possessed was bound to run into the occasional aberrant. Most of these had been highly dysfunctional members of society, but they were Myka nevertheless, and had been allowed to remain and exist for as long as their assorted disabilities and ailments had allowed them. It was not a crime to be born in the throes of affliction and to suffer through life as a result, and besides, many of these mutants tried their utmost to provide and protect the colony in spite of their ill-favored beginning in life.

Yet, the Draelvasier had not seemed this way. Their hyperfixation on purity had instilled xenophobia within them, and though the War-Form was aware that they would occasionally dabble in genetic modification and retroviral changes, these were all done in order to better the individual. The concept of this Draelvasier mutant in the midst of the Myka raid was puzzling. He did not outstretch his thoughts via the Thrum to query the Synaptics and their reservoir of knowledge; there were more important things at hand than to question those living repositories on the nature of their new allies and their stance toward deformities.

Perhaps this mutant did not understand what was happening around it, or perhaps it had been misinformed. It seemed to misinterpret them as Draelvasier, and furthermore accused them of being a threat. Before Gristle had time to contemplate the reason for this, his mind was assailed with images of a past that was not his own. Perhaps to another being this would have been traumatic or horrifying, but the Myka existed within one another's minds constantly, and to experience someone else's form was almost familiar as a result - though never before had any of them been a Draelvasier in these forays into the past.

This creature had been tortured, and driven mad. It had been in authority, and had used it only to slaughter its own kind. Gristle felt perturbed and disgusted by the abuse of leadership. How could such a disturbing beast have been allowed to remain after it had so willingly obliterated its kindred and for no gain whatsoever?

On his own volition, Gristle would have killed the thing. He would have delimbed it, piece by piece, shucking limbs like cereal grain, and then he would melt it into protein-rich nectar and consume it. Perhaps then all of its agony could come to an end, and the monstrous abomination could bring something more productive to their crusade.

The Ykaradan were focused on making the alliance with the Draelvasier work, however, and though this thing was clearly unaffiliated with them at best, it was nevertheless one of their race. Perhaps it could be captured and handed over so as to preserve the alliance? If it was an enemy of theirs, then the Draelvasier would be grateful for such a gift, and if it was merely a defective ally then it would cause difficulty if they were to kill it as a result of its odd behavior.

His War Gaster was full of Amniogenetic fluid. This would be insufficient in order to take down the creature, and yet, he suspected that he would not have a great deal of time to reload his weapon. A thought was dispatched to the nearby Worker, a position atop a nearby structure where a band of fellow Myka would rendezvous once they had arrived onto the field. After they had come, then no doubt their own War Gasters would be able to bring the beast down without damaging their quarry too hideously.

"Weeeee are not Drael. Weeeee are Myka." He corrected, gripping his throat to make the sounds come out. "Weeeee are allies of the Titan."

Hraelga Nacht

 

[Tertius C. Nargath]

​

Spoiler: information

• Shard of Heresy [Sword]​
• Glimmering Oil​
• Skittral Spaceglider​

​

Tilting her head a bit to the side, her instincts were running in overdrive, Hraelga did not trust these creatures that she had never encountered before and their strange way of acting like the Draelvasier were their allies. A lot had to have changed in her time away if the Brynadûl were now actively working alongside other races. It was inconceivable, incomprehensible for Hraelga, who had only known the hardline the Bryn had been bearing and spreading during their endless campaigns on the outer rim.

Had this intermingling, this turning on the old tennets made the Drael and the Bryn by extension softer and less powerful? Did they need the help and aid from these strange beings because of this weakened position?

A snarl escaped Hraelesh' throat, her jagged teeth visible as the snarl turned into a hiss. However, when the creature her hand was still placed upon, suddenly exclaimed they weren't Drael, but instead were something called Myka, the former Marauder's hand retracted a few milimeters, only to suddenly be slammed back against the creature's head with similar force as before, though this time...rather than granting the Myka visions of who she was, Hraelga's mental tendrils began to slither into this one's mind, attempting to drain it of all available knowledge they had on these Myka as they called themselves and what their connection was to the Draelvasier.

"Do not try to hide your hatred and hostility...for I will not hide my own..." Hraelga's metallic voice would slam into the closest member of the Myka species, holding on to the one whose mind she attempted to drain for knowledge, all the while bending through her knees ever so slightly in order to ready herself. If the Myka would attack before she would have gotten the intel she needed, she'd simply have to throw them off of their balance. She was not going to underestimate beings that she did not know completely, but she would make damn sure that if these beasts thought they could take a Drael down, they had yet to meet something like her. "Now...what is it that makes you...you."

Her method and usage of the Memory drain technique was crude, brutal and as if it was done by one with little to no refinement in the technique, but the strength in which the technique was being applied could not be ignored, as it would feel almost similar as being subject to a tribunal of the greatest Drael monsters judging one's worth. "Are you thinking of capturing me? Naughty little insects...are you truly sure you want to attempt something like that?"

Tag: Gristle | Rakvul | Ingrid L'lerim​

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Empress of the Eternal Empire and Terraris

Information

Objective: Kill the crabs
Location: Lastwall
Equipment: 2x Sigra vibroblade | 2x Striith vibrosword | The Soulsabers | [Hersir Imperial Uniform | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m
Tags: Gristle | Primarion Hiperius | Rakvul | Livia Cadera | Feyd [ direct tag ] | Open

"Galactic Common" | <"High Nelvaanian"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Ingrid looked around and saw the same old familiar picture as during the Civil War. These crab-like creatures were still wreaking havoc among the Ultranauts, but this time it was different. She saw here not only the Bryn'adûl, but other deformed creatures that were just as powerful monsters as the old enemy. True, the red-haired woman couldn't be sure if these were other creatures, or if they had only evolved more recently since she hadn't seen them. Either way, neither was a possibility.

They were here again and that was a huge threat to the whole Galaxy. It was only by some miracle that they weren't able to subjugate everyone last time. The Silver Jedi Order kept them at bay for a long time. But the SJO no longer existed and even then these monsters had already made their way to this part of the galaxy. She had no better word for them than monsters. The only reason she didn't think of animals was because these creatures were very intelligent and very methodical in their destruction.

She had these thoughts in her head as she engaged the enemy attacking her. As always, she fought beautifully and elegantly, as if fighting was an art. She was a woman who held life and death in her hands. The red-haired woman continued to do this until she felt someone watching her. She had spent enough time in combat, war and hostile terrain to sense that someone was watching her. A lot of people have that feeling and experience, so maybe this wasn't so special and strange.

Ingrid looked around to find the source of where she felt she was being watched. She didn't have to look too hard, for she soon saw the person, or rather creature, or rather monster, watching her. It was one of the last of the group who had just arrived. The creature, which appeared to be mostly male to the woman, was already drawing its weapon as it looked at the red-haired woman. And the woman understood the hint and the challenge. She looked at him and gave a firm but curt nod of acceptance. They might be of a different species, but she always respected her opponents. Those who did not, usually lost before the fight even started. At least that's what she learned.

She spun the two swords in her hands and then started jogging towards him. When she was confronted by an enemy, she killed him with a short but decisive movement. She proceeded in this manner until she came close to him, when she did, she used her right hand to make a diversionary attack to seize his sword and, in the process, she tried to slash his thighs and lower abdomen with the sword in her left hand. The dance began.