Dominion Cold and Ugly | Dominion of Carlac | NIO

[Rurik Fel]

// PARABOL ACTUAL //: Imperial Knight Commander
// OBJECTIVE //: The Ugly
// FOCUS //: Bastard | Tsavong Kraal | Dione | FN-999 | Lucien Dooku
Armor | Lightsaber | The Vane | Pistol

P A R A B O L

And so there were more. They'd meet their end at the end of his blade all the same. He'd put each of them to the sword if he had to. In truth, the Vong were not so much a manifestation of evil as the Sith were. The darkness.

"They're running not in fear but because they've taken all they can take. It is not we who are mighty, it is we who are too late." Rurik remarked. Regardless of whatever victory they might snatch from the Yuuzhon Vong here, they'd be kings of the cinder, lords among the ashes of the fallen here. They'd staved them off, but they had not beaten them.

"The Vong have endured, always. The Galactic Alliance and Imperial Remnant of old could only beat them down so much. They'd endured the wrath of the Abominor, the Silentium. To be faced as a foe, they must be respected." Rurik said. All the same, they had to be scraped clean from this world.

He cleaved his saber through another warrior as Tsavong Kraal willed another host of the Vong to meet them. All the same he felt the foundations of the Ming Po city crumble beneath them as the Vong ships began to rise from the planet.

He felt the armor crack and melt around his blade as he impaled another before he screwed his eyes beneath the metallic visage shut to hone in on the swelling beneath the earth.

"I'm afraid...I'm afraid the ground will not be beneath us much longer. We have to leave. Now. Captain FN-999 , gather your men and instruct them to fall back. If there is any among the living still here, take them with you but we can not best what they have gathered." Rurik commanded.

"Errant. You and I will keep them occupied until we can finally retreat." Rurik instructed to his apprentice, now throwing the slain Vong warrior to the snow beneath.

 

[FN-999]

​

OBJECTIVE: II
IN VICINITY: Dione | Lucien Dooku | Rurik Fel | Tsavong Kraal | Vella Forte
FORCES: 19th Assault Company
TROOP STATUS: (194/200) (All in full retreat/firing backwards)

"Open fire!" yelled FN-999 as hundreds of Vong emerged from the shadows.
​

In seconds, thousands of bullets and explosives were hurled towards the Vong from the troopers in the garrison overlooking the town. From their tactically superior position, they were able to mow down dozens before the Vong reached the flamer lines. When they did, they met a sweeping arc of fire that melted many more of their organic creations. But some of the creatures slipped past the arcs of the flamethrowers and machine guns, flanking individual troopers and slicing them apart. At the same time, the environment became more and more volatile as tentacles rose from fissures in the ground, some grabbing troopers before being cut by the bullets of the 19th. Once again, FN-999 faced a difficult decision. He could keep up the offensive to completely annihilate the Vong in return for heavier casualties for the 19th Assault Company, or he could retreat and set up a new perimeter to save lives but give the Vong time to regroup.

"I'm afraid...I'm afraid the ground will not be beneath us much longer. We have to leave. Now. Captain FN-999 , gather your men and instruct them to fall back. If there is any among the living still here, take them with you but we can not best what they have gathered." Rurik commanded.

The Imperial Knight solved FN-999's inner dilemma for him.

"Retreat to the hills!" ordered FN-999. "Cover the flamers until they re-enter the formation and lay down suppressive fire on the flanks!"

The entire company began to back up and fall back to the hills above, narrowly avoiding increasingly large cracks in the ground around and in the village. Unfortunately, there was little that FN-999 could do for the villagers. Earlier, he had looked at the village through through binoculars with his scouts. Upon seeing the disfigured and mutated state of the villagers, he realized that there was little that modern medical technology could do to assist them. And even if they were curable, the village was in the heart of the rapidly deteriorating Vong territory. To enter now would be to doom the entire company to fall in a sinkhole. So the captain begrudgingly retreated, vowing to prevent another infection at the hands of such terrible creatures.

Being an assault company, the 19th's heavy equipment made them slower than the Vong pursuing them. He had been aware of the speed disadvantage when he ordered the company's flanking troopers to hold the Vong back. So far, about half of the flametroopers had caught up with the main formation. However, the other twenty flametroopers remained about twenty meters back, with a Vong horde and a decaying environment right in their tails. If they didn't catch up soon, then they would all die.

"Don't be a hero!" yelled FN-999 desperately to the troopers behind him. "Drop your flamethrowers and catch up with us!"

FN-999, callsign "Nines", leader of Nines's Ninety-Nine, was often seen as a cold and ruthless killer, who only lived for the Order. While there was some truth in the latter statement, FN-999 genuinely cared for the troops under his command. There was a part of him that could not bear the possibility of seeing so many of his troopers fall before him, no matter what they achieved. While weapons could be discarded and replaced without much thought, the lives of a living beings were different.

Ultimately, FN-999 would rather lose twenty - no, two hundred flamethrowers than any of his twenty stray flametroopers.

 

[Bastard]

Shaking brought Carlac to life as Errant found himself off-balance, his feet sliding to and fro within the snow. The thrust of a rogue amphistaff collided with the Albino's shoulder, sending him tumbling to the ground. Over and over, he rolled, pushing himself beyond the reach of his attacker, creating the necessary space to leap back to his feet. He narrowly managed to pull his lightsaber back up to guard, the amphistaff's snapping out at the Imperial. He twisted his hips and pulled the silver blade across his body, the Vong's weapon of choice taken with it. Errant slashed out immediately, the lightsaber scoring a gruesome wound across the alien's stomach. He did not slow, the tide of battle unwilling to allow any caught in its wake to pause. He stepped forward, his gauntleted hand locked around the creature's wrist. With a harsh tug, the Vong stumbled forward, into the waiting beam of silvery energy set to slice the creature in twain.

"Do not yield," Errant muttered. "Do not break," he continued the mantra, his hand thrust forward. A wave of telekinetic energy ripped the corpse in two, sending it away from him in pieces as he met the charge of another Vong. "Do not yield!" the Oathsworn roared out, his defiance palpable, the force strengthening it. He struck out as the Vong swung his staff and missed, arms coiled over his shoulder, not unlike the serpentine rod within his clawed hands. "Do not break!" another shout sounded, echoing from Errant as he sheared down through the Vong's limbs. The abomination stumbled back, eyes alight with shock as he stared in absolute horror. The Imperial Knight did not stop, his momentum carrying him forward, a two-handed grip on the saber's hilt delivering a decisive strike through the monstrosity's thin neck. A downward stomp turned the creature's skull to mush, the Knight not even offering it a glance.

Rurik's orders sounded over the battle, the Knight-Commander somewhere nearby. The Albino imagined his mentor knee-deep in those foolish enough to draw near, their corpses a warning to any stupid enough to repeat the mistake.

Errant drew closer to the white-hot arc left in the Commander's wake. "As you command, sir!" he retorted from behind a line of Vong attempting to flank Rurik. One turned in shock, a statuesque terror taking hold of the creature's grotesque face as Errant plunged his blade into the being's chest. He reached up with a free hand and took hold of its upper jaw, carelessly wrenching the dead free of his weapon. The second and third turned to face the oncoming Knight, defenses held high in defiance of his charge. The Albino pushed forward, ducking down as one of their living weapons struck out, aimed for his head. The purifying saber sought the Vong's leading limb before arching back to his left, gracefully parrying the second's follow-up. Now within their guard, Errant's blade flashed back to his right, slicing through exposed flesh, the Vong's muscular thigh as resistant as paper to the white-hot blade. The other beast met a similar fate, his upper-half sent spiraling to the ashen-snow below them, dead before it hit the ground.

"You!" Errant bellowed, a ring of Vong now encircling him as he'd cut his way through those nearest to him, the remaining cowed by the vicious display. He held his gleaming saber high, the tip of the blade pointed directly at the towering Yuuzhan Vong, Tsavong Kraal. "Face me, curr! I long for my blade to drink deep of your putrid lifeblood!"

Rurik Fel | Tsavong Kraal | Lucien Dooku | FN-999 | Vella Forte ​

 

[Vella Forte]

// Objective II - The Ugly // Carlac // Ming-Po Village //

// Rurik Fel // Bastard // FN-999

// Dione // Vong // Tsavong Kraal

// Lucien Dooku //
​

---

---

One rose to meet her. Its face looked like a skull, covered in a lattice of scars and tattoos, sitting on top of a creature that was much taller than herself. It leaped forward, taking a swing with an incredibly sharp and ragged blade, and out came the smaller of her two blades, the shoto. In a quick twist, she maneuvered closer to the spiky armoured torso of the creature and shoved her blade in below the ribs, piercing through the armour. It was enough for it to cry out with anguish and stagger back into the arms of it's brethren who pushed it forward and away from itself; back toward Vella who only grinned wickedly in response. Heat curled around her fingers, but remained contained; only glowing slightly around the grip of her hilt. The longer of the two swords snapped to her hands. She'd tested the fortitude of the armour and found it disappointing -- the rest would be short work so long as she avoided the poison and ragged edges of the enemy's weapon. From there, unthinking fluidity manifested from the bladeborn. Crimson cut through bone. Weaving and dodging took place beneath arms that didn't land their strikes. They were close, sometimes, but not close enough.

It was an impressive one-sided carnage.

The enemy dropped around their feet; outmatched and outnumbered. Flamethrowers consumed them, her blade diced them, Lucien's forces coring through them with their shots. The collection of bodies was threatening to become an obstruction on the battlefield. Something more to cut through. There was a natural break in the slaughter. The pause gave her time to listen and respond.

Why was he grinning so much?

Her eyes narrowed to peer at him. She knew who he was, beyond it being a suspicious need born of distrust of Jedi, it was in the dossier. "I don't have a Darth name if that's what you're asking." She hadn't ascended to that level yet; but she did have a title that was pompous enough to brag about -- at least in her eyes. The Bladeborn of Vahl. But deactivated, she was self-aware enough not to drag that out from under the carpet. "Vella Forte."

Another animated, willed by the influences of an unseen maestro. The skeletal enemy met with undeserved theatrics, exploiting them as incapable warriors. This had been too easy. Their blades had met success after success -- souls claimed with struggles that weren't backed by strength. These weren't the fabled warriors she'd expected.

"I think you're right," Vella admitted. Her tone dipped in shades of remorse and a slump of her shoulders. Short of sniffing, she continued the sentiment drenched with distaste. "Shameful resource management." Still, this resource had to prove she wasn't operating from the save slimy hive as other Sith. Any propaganda of the New Imperial's escapades of their liberation and salvation for the dear people of Carlac would have to be supported by Jenwit'ari. Unknowingly, of course.

Her senses had been dulled to everything surrounding them, given the deadspace the Vong occupied. When something declared it was about to go wrong, that constant searching sensation of The Force barked a warning that congealed her blood. The ground quivered beneath her boots, rolling and groaning with resistance. The planet's crust was beginning to crack, falling and rising with the unnatural splits.

"Shame we're not deeper in the action. Probably because of all that observing." A roguish grin cracked her lips and she shook her head, disengaging her dual blades and using the unlit hilt to point in the direction of the Imperial Knights. "You think they need back up, or is this a good time to get out of here?"

 

[Dione]

// WARMASTER //
// OBJECTIVE //
// ENEMIES // NIO
// FOCUS // Vella Forte | Lucien Dooku | Tsavong Kraal | Rurik Fel

The fissures in the planet Carlac grew wider with each passing moment. The planet itself began to give birth as from within three large ships broke through the surface. The earth fell away, and the moonlight baptised the vessels. Months of planning finally come to fruition as the Ming-Po village began to shake, fissures opening beneath homes. The planet itself swallowed soldiers of both Vong and Imperial in compensation for what had been taken.

Sitting upon his throne, hands steepled, Dione looked through the viewport towards the stars above. Towards the veil of darkness pinpricked by white lights. Each light a system that was theirs to claim. “This is only the beginning Yonmir. This is only the beginning.” Dione thought a hand reaching to press against the flesh of the Yammosk once more. The hand glided across the surface of the flesh, caressing it. “You have done well on this day, rest. I shall take care of the rest.”

Glancing out the corner of his eyes, Dione’s emerald gaze fell upon the other soldiers that inhabited the bridge. None dare look toward the Warlord and the Yammosk. A bond between the two was only natural, it made them all the more deadly. “Show them our fury and make those below pray to their gods for salvation.”

The command went out and while vague he need not tell the Yuuzhan Vong what that meant. With an almost childish glee the bridge crew went to work spreading the command. Those on the ground would begin to see the exterior of the lead ship begin to glow in certain areas. A crimson glow rivaling that of a sun.

From the ship large flaming meteors rained down not only upon Ming-po Village but all across the lands of Carlac. This was about more than only killing the Imperials, nor was it simple revenge. It was a lesson, and one they sorely needed.

The flaming spheres slammed into the ground, the heat and flames extending further out to consume all. The planet reverberated with the shock of each impact striking the ground. This was a rain of damnation. Soon enough the three vessels were exiting the planet's orbit and moving through the vast darkness before blinking from existence.

 

[Rurik Fel]

// PARABOL ACTUAL //: Imperial Knight Commander
// OBJECTIVE //: The Ugly
// FOCUS //: Bastard | Tsavong Kraal | Dione | FN-999 | Lucien Dooku
Armor | Lightsaber | The Vane | Pistol

P A R A B O L

The Imperial Knights continued in defiant fury to hold down their line. The Echani Prince in-exile alongside the wayward son of Serenno continued in the butcher of the extra-galactic warriors. Though seperated in the chaos of the slaughter. They pressed on.

A living staff was thrust near the metal visage of the Knight Commander, the maw of the weapon snapping toward his expressionless masque as he held his arms splayed in one of the forms of Vaapad before he cut the blade up through the Vong's arm, severing it right in two before sending the limb tumbling to the earth with a pained hiss in emission from his counterpart in battle. Another fluid motion of the silver blade through the Vong's neck was enough to claim the coup de grace of the monster.

Then he felt it again, the tremors. With these malfeasant creatures severed from the force, there was no acting in true precognitive anticipation of the rupture of the Vong ships from the crust of the world. They'd done their feeding and they were making for the door. To leave and continue their depraved crusade. There was very little Rurik could do to stop them as he continued on his pace of carnage blinded. He could not will the force to smite them down as he could the ranks of Sith he faced down in the field of battle on Mygeeto. He could only bury this ability in himself, to invoke his battlemind or sate the straining injuries that rot his form.

His martial prowess had been hindered as well alongside the twilight, with single handed strikes he willed all of his strength into each blow sometimes cleaving a vong warrior in half with each blow before eventually he was surrounded by the lifeless corpses.

"Errant! You will find no glory here...we must leave. Now." He barked out in command to Varanin as he paced with slow, heavy, foreboding steps in the direction of the Knight, continuing to cut his bloody swath all the same as he saw him invoke a taunt of single combat against the leader of this dreaded host.

"You are strong but do not bury yourself so much in your hubris to believe you will prevail this day, Errant. We must go. Remember, discipline." Rurik yelled, invoking what might've been the sole construct to which he retained his philosophy around. Discipline was control. It was clear at least to the Knight Commander that Errant embodied his legacy again. His lust to prove himself right and all others wrong. He admired the tenacity but he worried for losing the boy...to the darkness, as his father was lost.

 

[Lucien Dooku]

H E L L B O Y
KAL'ORITSOR

Spoiler: MILITARY ASSETS

- STRIKE GROUP DOOKU - IN ORBIT
Nebula II-class Star Destroyer - NIV Myrmidon
REC-LC01 "Negotiator"-class Light Cruiser - Four Vessels
REC-LU01 HAAT - Five Squadron of Twelve
V-wing Heavy Interceptor - Six Squadrons of Twelve
- 173RD. STORMTROOPER LEGION - THE MYRMIDONS [ One platoon accompanying Lucien ]

​

---

Rurik Fel Vella Forte​

---

There was a time in the campaigns prior where Lucien would not have hesitated to join Vella Forte in slaying the warriors who generously threw themselves at the forces of the Order's task force on Carlac. Dashing into combat with a smirk or a smile, the Exiled Prince of Serenno had once let his weapon dance among their enemies with a hint of amusement in his eyes, eager to prove himself no longer the boy who wished for nothing but a high-speed swoop race from time to time and the occasional game of Sabacc among friends. Ever so eager to prove himself worthy of associating with his newfound cohorts, Luc didn't hesitate in the slightest to kill his foes before they enacted the same vengeance upon himself. Be it Sith-Imperials, Fanatical Cultists, Fallen Jedi or something in between, he'd slew countless enemies with not just his own two hands, but also through the commanding of others who served the same cause as himself.

The Vong who occupied Ming Po village were no exception, but the deed was done without the same gleam in his eyes that once was a prevalent sight to those in his presence. The crumbled remains of the first warrior would find several of its kin joining it in quick succession as he followed his companion's lead, brandishing his lightsaber in a flurry of lithe movements which left the approaching hostiles blinded, and furthermore cut down in seconds. The collective life force of the vong disintegrated into the ether by the time Luc's weapon returned to his side, deactivated and resting there once more. Blue orbs lingered upon Vella once more, the semblance of that familiar smile returning back to his lips again.

Feisty at the tongue this Vella was, she could at least back up the attitude with impressive blade work of her own. Luc was tempted to compliment her skills if it were not for him trembling within his boots-- and it wasn't a symptom of her skill, nor her near-human beauty. The ground quaked as the soldiers of the Order escalated the bloodbath through bolt and flame, removing the Vong infestation with the appropriate level of force needed to combat one of the galaxy's most dire threats. A quick scan of the surrounding allies was all he needed to return his gaze towards the mysterious woman with him, the lightsaber resting lazily now being clipped to his belt. "I think the Imperial Knights have this situation under control." Luc answered her query, a hand temporarily resting beneath his lips, the bottom of his wrist facing upwards.

<"Commander, regroup on myself and our beautiful companion for the evening."> Luc's eyes remained fixated on Vella, a playful wink delivered her way before he chuckled to himself. <"Bring the HAAT's down onto our position as well. Designate my position as the temporary LZ and bring us back to the Myrmidon.>" His hand found its way back to his pocket once the message was delivered, their stormtrooper accompaniment funneling around them in a loose circle. The whine of the HAAT flight drilled into their ears moments later, breaking the background noise of weapons firing and the ground rumbling once overhead. Touching down within the circle of stormtroopers, the blast doors swung open, allowing the Myrmidons to begin funneling in one-by-one until Lucien and Vella were the last ones remaining.

Luc gestured towards the HAAT with a smirk once his eyes met her own once more. "Ladies first."

 

[FN-999]

OBJECTIVE: II
IN VICINITY: Dione | Lucien Dooku | Rurik Fel | Tsavong Kraal | Vella Forte
FORCES: 19th Assault Company
TROOP STATUS: (169/200) (All in full retreat)

Something far larger than a tentacle emerged from the ground about a hundred meters behind the 19th.
​

"Dear. God." exclaimed FN-999. "RUN!!!!!!"

In the blink of an eye, nine troopers fell into a massive crack that opened up meters into the 19th's flank. A sinkhole the size of a large corvette opened up just behind the company's rear, taking most of the pursuing Vong into its depths. FN-999 had dropped his chaingun minutes ago, carrying only his baton as he attempted to maintain order within the 19th and accelerate their retreat. The company's equipment had been slowing them down, so they dropped most of their rations and mounted weaponry. Still, the company was running uphill away from a complete destruction of the geographical crust in the area. If they didn't reach a safe spot soon, the entire company would fall into the earth and perish.

As the captain turned around to check on his company, a blinding light nearly knocked him to the ground. One of the massive constructs rising from the ground was glowing as it rose, its light rivaling that of a planetary system's star. Some of the company's troopers staggered back from the light and stumbled, falling victim to the decaying environment. It was clear that the casualty report on the 19th's first mission would be fairly large. Still, FN-999 would not abandon his company. It had taken him years to prove his worth as a soldier and officer, and he would be damned if he was going to let it all slip away in one battle.

[This is Captain Nines of the 19th Assault Company! We're in full retreat and need a lift, ASAP! Submitting coordinates now!] stated FN-999 on his secure comm network.

Moments later, a fireball landed near the front of the 19th, taking out six troopers in an instant. More followed, though most of them fell short. As he turned around once more, FN-999 saw that the source of the fireballs were the Vong constructs that were rapidly exiting the atmosphere. Now, the company was in a very tight spot. Fleeing from a decaying environment and a torrent of fireballs, it would not be long before panic split the company apart.

"Give me that." stated FN-999 to a trooper nearby holding a rocket launcher.

The trooper wordlessly obliged, and FN-999 turned around, weapon in his hands. Right as he did so, he saw one of the Vong fireballs fly straight towards the center of the company. Noting that a rocket was already loaded into the launcher, the captain fired the rocket upwards at the fireball, which was about forty meters away. The two objects met about twenty meters above the platoon, the rocket and fireball both striking each other in a massive explosion. While the heat wave from the blast shook FN-999's body, none of the company had been killed by the fireball.

Surely, the company's small victory would allow them to hang on to hope until help arrived.

 

[Argos Xalen]

Akash Guul Trajan Fett Vallaro Kindall Zivos

Argos heard the weapon fire before hearing Vallaro call out for him to be careful. The Lervon would've smirked if he could and quickly dove under the snow. "Don't worry. Lervon and stealth kinda go together." He continued under the white blanket in the ground before finally getting closer to his fellow hunters. He would retake a humanoid form behind a nearby rock, and eyed the others before speaking up. "This'll be a fun one."

 

[Vella Forte]

// Objective II - The Ugly // Carlac // Ming-Po Village //

// Rurik Fel // Bastard // FN-999

// Dione // Vong // Tsavong Kraal

// Lucien Dooku //​

---

---

Vella nodded once, the rumbling beneath their feet growing and swelling. It seemed the crust of the planet was intent on no further debate on whether they stay or go.

"And if they don't, all the more reason to.." she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth twice, combining the sharp tick tick with a thumb over her shoulder to gesture to high tail out of here. Without having to fully commit to saying it out loud.

The Serennian lifted his comms to issue his command, and as she started to reholster her weapons, she paused mid-clip. Her lips rose and brows lowered into a smaller, more pinched expression of a quizzical nature. The compliment was as hollow as the disemboweled corpse he'd taken care of moments earlier, but it was still foreign banter to the Vahla's ears. Her company was usually much more...somber. Almost to a fault. Maybe if she kept more cavalier companions she'd match his suggestive wit with something about riding in cars with boys, or hot rods or something but silence triumphed.

The whirr of engines soon rivaled the growing din of the tremors beneath their feet and she focused on remaining upright while all the soldiers that had come with Prince Dooku piled into the HAAT.

"Ah yes," she tapped her chin while scuttling up to the belly of the transport. "The Legendary Manners of Serenno.

Where the knives you cut your dinner with are as importantly placed as the ones you pierce through your enemies, right?"

Up up and away.