Dominion Creeds And Empires // Dominion Of Krieg Hex [ NIO ]

[IMPCOM]

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// Creeds And Empires // Dominion Of Krieg Hex​

In its quest for expansion, the New Imperial Order leaves its captured space to the planet of Krieg. Once a world under the rule of prominent Mandalorian clans, the planet has more recently been left to obscurity. Fleeing the control of the Sith Empire, a sect of rigidly dogmatic Mandalorians known as the ‘Sons Of Mandalore’ have established an enclave on the edge of the ‘Ring’ that runs across the entirety of the world.​

Within the same sector of space, the world of Aeten II plays host to a vast reserve of Stygium, an invaluable strategic resource for the development of enhanced stealth technology - a major draw for IBED and other corporate interests within the NIO.​

// Objective I // Guns Of The Patriots [ Krieg ]​

With the Mandalorian enclave uncovered by the New Imperial Order, the Sovereign Imperator has arranged a meeting between an Imperial diplomatic mission and the Sons of Mandalore. It is an attempt to introduce their numbers into the fold, promising the reclamation of their conquered homeland, so long as they join the New Imperial Order’s host in the coming war.​

// Objective II // Rock Raiders [ Aeten II ]​

While Corporate interests such as the Technoid Manufactorum seek to establish operations mining the Stygium on the world, an infestation of Kubaza Beetles which live off of the mineral wealth of the world have dug colonies into the surrounding Stygium reserves. Clear out the bugs and make way for your corporate overlords.​

// Objective III // BYOO​

Whatever can be done to subjugate the worlds on behalf of the New Imperial Order. Do what you see fit.​

 

[Wilhuff Krieg]

// OBJECTIVE // I - Guns Of the Patriots
// FOCUS // --

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The secluded enclave which played host to the Sons of Mandalore in exile was in a state of decay not too dissimilar to the Hand Of Thrawn within which the founders of the New Imperial Order congregated within not days before in order to form its new government and declare its defiance against the Sith Empire.

Though there was no ‘true’ organized leadership within this sect of Mandalorians - Bralor had fashioned himself as one of the supposed ‘elders’, being a man of old age who’d seen the toils of war on the ground only to be irreparably injured and cordoned to the theatre of naval warfare.

Waiting for the New Imperial diplomat’s, Bralor’s patience wore thin. As much as he sought a means of retaking the cradle of the Mandalorians from the Sith Empire - all the same he would not be content with hollow promises of another Empire.

<“They’ve talked, more than most of the others have done before them. Though I’ve come not to expect much from this ilk.”> Bralor spoke in his grisled and cynical voice distorted by the helmet clasped around his head.

 

[Careena Fett]

C a r e e n a _ F e t t

| Objective | Guns of the Patriots​

| Location | Krieg - Planetside, Sons of Mandalore Enclave​

| Company | Kestus Bralor ​

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Careena tapped her fingers against her folded arms, a stoic gaze focused on Bralor. Ever since the Mandalorians had been broken on their home for a second time, with their people slaughtered and scattered across the stars, she had managed to scrape together whatever resources she could and vanished away from former Mandalorian space with what was left of her people. Refugees, soldiers, whatever precious remnants of her people remained she did her best to find a place for them, safe from the Sith Empire till the day came where they would one day be able to rise to their feet and challenge the Sith once again. ​

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That was how she came to meet Bralor, someone who she had come into contact with through the Sons of Mandalore. With so few of their numbers able to move freely without the Sith breathing down their necks, she was left with little choice but to join despite her fiercely independent views and perception of many of the other clans. Luckily for her, Bralor was a man that had held onto his honor despite all that had happened, and for the immediate time being, a person she could trust.​

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As Bralor spoke she’d mutter under her breath in Mandalorian, < You and I both know that talk means nothing. If they come asking us to beg as sheep to be led to slaughter, I will kill them myself. Every second we waste, is another our people suffer underneath those bastard Sith... >​

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Her gaze shifted to the door that led into the enclave they had established. Diplomats were to arrive on behalf of this ‘New Imperial Order’ a splinter group that had broken away from the Sith Empire due to some internal disagreements. She was weary of them, but given the situation, her options were limited and once more, forced to adapt and take into consideration all options on the table. She would hear what they had to say and offer. She was still wary of their intentions and ready to pounce into action if the situation so often escalated to when it came to anyone that was of the Sith Empire, former or not.​

 

[Harath Eldar]

\\ Objective \\ Guns of the Patriots
\\ Location \\ Krieg
\\ Tags \\ Careena Fett | Kestus Bralor

Harath Eldar’s single-eyed gaze followed Kestus Bralor’s movements. He couldn’t blame the Elder for his impatience, but there would be far more waiting before Mandalore would see itself reclaimed by those fit to rule. The establishment of a puppet to rule the planet left the exiled-Mandalorian fuming whenever he considered the reality of such things. That anger only grew stronger as his people upon Sundari found themselves brought low and murdered for the code and lifestyle they so proudly bore. To be a Mandalorian is to be a warrior without peer. Many in the galaxy would claim themselves equal to the Mandalorian people, yet, no other people brought the sorcerous Jedi and Sith low, time and time again. The Sith feared them for what they could accomplish if brought together under a proper banner; it was the only explanation for such unchecked violence. That simple truth kept Harath quiet as he awaited the arrival of the Imperial diplomats. ​

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With no clan to his name any longer, the former Alor held little sway among others of his kind. Had he managed to turn others of his family against the Sith and overthrow the puppet, a sizable force would’ve joined the Sons of Mandalore upon Krieg. Instead, the Eldar proved themselves loyalists of the cowardly Sith regime. The very thought of retaining such loyalty confused the echani. Their home within reach, yet, the three Sith-Mandalorian Clans seemed comfortable on Concord Dawn, wasting away in unchecked boredom. Soon enough, Harath hoped to help his kinfolk see reason and sway them to the Sons of Mandalore. The combined power of the three traitor clans, alongside the Fett, could potentially bring Mandalore under a rightful ruler. If he could not convince them of their foolishness via words, much like in ancient histories, the former Eldar would put each of them to the blade until new oaths bound their loyalty.​

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Harath listened to Bralor, followed by Careena, nodding his agreement to the female Alor’s words. To bend the knee to another empire would mark them no different than the traitorous clans basking in the Sith Empire’s ceaseless bloodshed.​

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“I do not imagine these newborn Imperials would be foolish enough to call this meeting together and ask us to bend the knee. I have heard of Tavlar's exploits. While I cannot speak on his behalf, his sense of war is not to be underestimated. He spent months studying our people during his management of the Beast. If he has reached out to us, he knows what we can offer his fledgling movement,” Harath looked beyond the two other Mandalorians, towards the long corridor the Sovereign-Imperator would soon traverse to reach them. The hall’s construction provided more than a kill-lane to the Mandalorian forces. It would offer an insight into the gathered warriors of Irveric Tavlar’s character. Would the man cower in the face of his first challenge, or would he rise to the occasion and face the trio unphased. ​

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The sound of a door opening in the distance reached Harath via his cybernetic hearing. “He is coming,” the echani stated before shifting his form towards the hall. Without his beskar’gam, the cloaked Mandalorian may not hold the same weight of presence as the others within the room. It didn’t matter in the end. Until the Mandalorians set foot on their homeworld and fought for it once more, he would not don his armor. He was no longer fit to wear it.​

 

[Imperial Warlord Zovesa]

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//Objective:// Objective II // Rock Raiders [ Aeten II ]//
//Location Objective:// Abandoned Stygium Mining Spire [Target Wesk (W)]
//Position:// En Route Aboard TXT XV-60a Armored Personnel Carrier
//Accompaniment:// Imperial Force Corps Aeten II Knights Taskforce (KTF) Aurek (A) & Besh (B)
//Personal Accompaniment:// KTF-Aurek

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The interior of the XV-60a APC, given the NIO reporting name Gampassa for its tortoise-like appearance, was awash with a translucent blue hue that discolored everyone into a murky shade of cerulean. Encased within its armored walls were the Force Corps Auxilia Troopers, Droids, and Force Corps Knights that made up Aeten II Knights Taskforce Aurek, or KTF-A.

They sat across from another on wall mounted benches, slowly rocking with the rolls and jerks of the APC as it traversed the rocky dune seas of Aeten II’s red deserts. The loud battering melody of sulfuric rain, brewed by the storms created by nearby volcanic eruptions, ricocheted off of the APC’s sloped armor and engulfed the silence that was being observed inside.

At the far end of the left wall bench, High Knight Marshal Zovesa impatiently eyed the vambrance mounted miniature screen and embedded holo-communicator. The monitor displayed the ghostly flickering encrypted communications feed to a reconnaissance starfighter flight that had flown ahead to establish intelligence reports about their target objective. So far she had heard no response since the last check the flight leader had called in when confirming their ETA on the target.

“I don’t like this,” scoffed the Squad Sergeant sitting beside Zovesa.

Squad Sergeant Riktor Dreggs was the Auxilia Sergeant that commanded the troopers under the Knights Commander Squad Zovesa led. He had a haggard look about him, with heavy jowls, short grey stubble and bushy dark brows with a shaved head. Dreggs was attending to his weapon when he made his grievances cautiously known to the High Knight Marshal.

“We should be on Krieg with the Sovereign Imperator,” continued Dreggs, “Not in a piss scented fume furnace.”

“Easy Sergeant,” replied Zovesa, without removing her sight from the vambrance monitor.

“The Imperator has his reasons. It's a delicate negotiation. No need for an entire army to show up.”

“Sends the wrong message. Don’t you agree?”

“Yah, well…,” Dreggs grumbled, floundering in his response, “You and I could have at least shown as guard detail.”

“You’re my detail, Sergeant Dreggs,” Zovesa chastised. “Perhaps you could be satisfied with that for now, as uninteresting that may sound.”

Dreggs smacked his lips and shook his head, “Come on Marshal, you know I don’t mean it like that. We’ve been through much.”

“I do?” jeered the High Knight Marshal.

“Now don’t you play Chiss-mind-games with me. I know, you know,” said Dreggs.

Zovesa smiled and nodded, “Copy that, Sergeant.”

Dreggs frowned and returned to inspecting the blaster energy pac’s that would be slotted into the magazine pouches of his combat vest. Zovesa coyly slid her red beaming Chiss eyes to him and exhaled a brief chuckle from her nostrils.

When Zovesa was in the Sith Legionnaire’s, Dreggs was a fellow conscript and perhaps her only trusted companion during those times. When she was ripped from the army when it was discovered she was Force Sensitive, she thought she would never see him again. She was grateful she got her chance now.

“Mynock Leader to Aurek Actual, copy,” buzzed the audio-voculator on Zovesa’s vambrance.

Immediately Zovesa snapped her head back and looked down at her vambrance, calling back, “Go head Mynock Leader, this is Aurek Actual.”

“We just did a low dive across Wesk,” said Mynock Leader, referring to the designated objective target codename for the Stygium Mining Spires – Target Wesk or W.

“Place is dead.”

“Elaborate, Mynock Leader,” replied Zovesa.

“It’s totally dark. Electronic readings zero, life scans zilch, and any motion scans read negative. It's quiet as the grave ‘mam,” said Mynock Leader.

Zovesa furled her dark blue brows together and pressed her lips, running calculations and recalling her debriefings from the Sovereign Imperator. The reason for their presence on Aeten II was to assist the Stygium Mining Consortium’s efforts to clear out abandoned Stygium Mining Spires of a recent infestation of dangerous local fauna - Kubaza Beetles. Zovesa hummed a pensive sigh for a moment then replied.

“Do you see any craters? Confirm,” said Zovesa.

There was a short silence from Mynock Leader, crackling static filled the tense seconds of no response.

“Affirmative, see a bunch. Could just be sinkholes caused from the dilapidated mining shafts?” Mynock Leader said.

“No, it's Kubaza nests, that is our target Mynock Leader. Take as my reconnaissance pictures as you can and patch them to me ASAP,” Zovesa commanded.

“Copy that Aurek Actual, executing. Over and out,” confirmed Mynock Leader.

Zovesa dropped her arm and looked away from her vambrance. She looked about the interior of the APC and noticed that all the Auxilia and Knights were listening to her conversation. They were all dressed in white armor, with combat vests, as well as long dark cloaks with hoods which would protect them and their gear from the sulphuric downpour of toxic rain.

Zovesa eyed each of them and nodded. They nodded back and understood that the operation would soon begin. Once the final intelligence report came in, they would make their way to Target Wesk. For now they all returned to their pre-operation checks and quiet rituals of focus and preparation.

[ Asmus Omaand Zaine Balfur ]

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

// OBJECTIVE // Guns Of The Patriots
// FOCUS // Careena Fett | Harath Eldar

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If Tavlar refused to come to the hail of aid to true Mandalorians it might’ve very well had negated the very catalyst for his treason to begin with. Disembarking from the Epitaph II which suspended low above the planet’s atmosphere as an overt sign of arrival of the New Imperial Order, the Sovereign Imperator disembarked. With a retinue of advisors making up his impromptu diplomatic mission his vessel landed ahead of the enclave. Silent - Irveric’s thoughts weighed heavily in his consciousness understandably so.

A mortal man at the precipice of embarking on a crusade against the Galaxy’s monolithic terror. Far more content to let his subordinates do a great deal of the talking, he would be sure not to let these negotiations fall through, time was precious in the shadow of the coming war and he would see to it that it wouldn’t be wasted here.

Crossing the arid field which enveloped the compound he strode toward the entrance where a Mandalorian clad in an incomplete beskar’gam allowed the party entry -- notified well ahead of time to the arrival of the New Imperial Order. Making his way through the ‘kill hall’ to which the Mandalorians made the sole entrance way to their compound Tavlar’s gaze was seemingly as frigid as it had in any tense parlay such as this. Numerous Sith Lords, a few of which he’d now called allies, had done similar when he still owed loyalty to the Sith Emperor. His fear had long been crucified in the face of great terror time and time again and thus, as an appraisal of his demeanor - he offered nothing when the doors slid open to encounter the three.

 

[Vaulkhar]

\\ Objective \\ Guns of the Patriots
\\ Location \\ Krieg
\\ Tags \\ Irveric Tavlar | Careena Fett

If it weren’t for his actions upon Mandalore months prior, Vaulkhar would not have bothered with such a meeting. It was one thing to conquer a planet and subjugate its people. It was another to disrespect the entirety of their history and genocide their people in the name of order. What he had helped the Sith accomplish brought about a dark period that would go down in history as one of the greatest slights ever to strike the Mandalorian people. While they brought upon their subjugation via the acts of Yasha Cadera and her weak-willed following, it did not make the death of millions right. In his former life, Vaulkhar knew he would’ve attempted to do something in the Mandalorian people’s darkest hour. He would’ve rode out to war in their name and cut down as many Sith loyalists as he could. Too much time had passed for him to be sure whether his former claim to the title of Jedi Master or his guilt in the name of old loyalties pushed him to follow the Sovereign-Imperator. It didn’t matter anymore. The fallen Jedi sought to see his father’s regime crumble around him before putting the craven beast down once and for all.​

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Vaulkhar strode behind Tavlar as the pair moved into the compound, eyeing the Mandalorian who guarded the entry. He had never entered such a place, which left him somewhat curious at what they would come across. It didn’t surprise him to see so many Mandalorians struggling to piece together a proper beskar’gam in the aftermath of the devastation of their planet. What did surprise him was how many these Sons of Mandalore managed to put together. While their movement lacked the power necessary to overcome the Sith on their own, with the funding and support of the New Imperial Order, Mandalore could potentially see itself under the rule of Mandalorians once again. It only required the Sovereign-Imperator and Executor to convince those who had been beaten down by an empire to trust the words of another imperial regime. While the odds stacked against them, it didn’t matter. The New Imperial Order needed the Sons of Mandalore’s forces, and the Sons of Mandalore needed the financial backing to arm their people.​

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As they approached the kill lane, Vaulkhar smirked behind his mask. With proper joy wiped from his existence, he required the essence of others to feel something beyond negativity. Those unfortunate few nearest him fed that faint smile in a way few would understand. Living as a wound in the force brought much power, but it also provided as many challenges to seek some semblance of normality in the anarchic galaxy he called home.​

 

[Lucien Dooku]

KRIEG, PLANETSIDE
OBJECTIVE I - GUNS OF THE PATRIOTS
SHADOWING Irveric Tavlar
CLOTHING
BEYOND OBLIVION
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It was official, Lucien thought to himself in the relative private of the corner of the shuttle which brought them down to the surface. The die had been cast the moment he set foot within the ancient halls of the Hand of Thrawn, but the magnitude of his actions had only set within him during the descent down to the surface of Krieg. He'd come a long way from being an exiled Prince, content with a life traveling distant stars. The revelry that followed such a path came with great joy, but it was nothing more than a veneer once the Sith reached out and fate intertwined his destiny back with the Empire which he hailed from. The deaths of innocents happened right before his eyes, and Lucien could no longer sit idly by whilst their Empire remained free to keep their comfortable status quo.

"No more standing on the sides." He growled audibly enough for one of the Sovereign-Imperator's retinue to glance in his direction. Luc shot back with narrowed eyes out of his peripheral before his attention returned to the view of the encroaching land beneath them. He was content with his window-seat viewing for the time being, only returning his attention back to his duties once the shuttle touched the ground and gave its complement the all-clear. Their mission was simple enough, yet carried a far heavier weight beneath the less intricate aspects of their objectives. The pacification of Krieg was the first step to the Order's rise to prominence, and Lucien had the honor to take part in its proceedings from the vanguard of their mission.

From his station within the Imperator's retinue, Luc had the opportunity of a lifetime, considering he was taking his duties to their cause seriously. It was a chance to view first-hand the political machinations that came with the subjugation of a world without force. The Sovereign's Hand, Vaulkhar, led the delegation in spite of the Sovereign's commanding presence within the group. Together the two men formed an awe-inspiring sight, though the presence of Vaulkhar had the unintentional effect of sending the occasional chill down the exiled Prince's spine.

He kept his distance from the man's vicinity, though it felt as if no amount of space he could reasonably create was enough to end the feeling of consumption that fed off Lucien's self-of-being; the innate wellspring of the force that resided within his soul. It threatened to reach out and grasp upon every antagonistic emotion within his persona, and while he couldn't deny the sheer prominence that Vaulkhar's form exuded among what was otherwise a gathering of non-sensitives, the uneasiness which he felt took every ounce of his concentration to contain beneath a placid form.

The presence of the Order's two most distinguished figures was a confidence booster in itself; Granted they were dealing with people who hailed from the warrior culture of Mandalore, and he had steeled himself in the worst-case that negotiations broke down into a far more unwanted situation. He'd dealt with their kind before- the kind which served the Emperor of the Sith faithfully, providing the Sith-Imperial war-machine with their undeniably proficient ability to hunt and kill the innocent and guilty alike. Luc had known several smugglers who fell to their patrols or had their ships turned into void-drifting debris.

Their 'cousins' of Krieg were fortunately not under their sway, and as such they greeted their guests with a modicum of respect upon their arrival. Lucien trailed behind Imperator Tavlar, standing off to the side yet keeping his pace steady enough to match those he walked with. He remained vigilant as they entered the 'Kill Hall' that served as the threshold to the Mandalorian's modest compound. The last moments of their short walk towards the doors were spent fortifying the resolve that brought him there in the first place; his determination became certain with a closing of his eyes and a quiet breath of Krieg's stale and arid oxygen. Impassivity was given once the doors to the meeting hall were open, and the delegation were given the authority to proceed forwards.

 

[Tyrell Paxxus]

Objective I - GUNS OF THE PATRIOTS
Tags/Focus: Irveric Tavlar | Vaulkhar | Lucien Dooku

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From the glasteel viewports of The Sentinel’s command bridge, Tyrell gazed curiously at the motionless two-faced sphere that was Krieg. The tidally locked planet was the first stop of many in the New Order’s expansion. With his hands clasped behind his back he contemplated ahead to the coming diplomacy with the Sons of Mandalore. He knew that the chance to strike back at the Sith Empire would be an appealing diplomatic talking point for the Mandalorians, but when considering the relative size of both the New Order and the Sith Empire, he couldn’t help but think it was going to be a hard sell. Tyrell had no doubt in his own diplomatic capabilities, but above all else he was an honest man, and it would take a great deception to make the Sith Empire look any less like the overwhelming force they truly were.

The Mandalorians were no fools, and Tyrell suspected they would be content with biding their time on Kreig just outside of the reaches of Sith space and wait for their best chance to strike. Tyrell also suspected, however, that the Mandalorians were proud and possessed a desire for retribution. With the despotic Sith Empire’s treatment of the Mandalorian cultural homeland and the bulk of their people, it would be rather defeatist to not seek revenge, and the Mandalorians were the farthest thing from defeatist if the Network’s actions spoke even a little for the Manadlorian attitude. This diplomatic endeavor would ride primarily on making the Sons of Mandalore understand that the New Order is their best chance to strike, and may possibly be their last ever chance if they are to squander the opportunity.

The implications of governance, New Imperial occupation, and the myriad of other challenges that came with an administrative occupation would no doubt be the topic of the remainder of the other diplomatic discussions. This, nevertheless, didn’t detract from the fact that everyone knew what the priority was; The fight against the Sith-Imperial Oppression Machine. It was likely that everything aside from what the New Order would offer in the context of fighting the Sith Empire would take a backseat in the coming negotiations.

As The Sentinel entered Krieg’s atmosphere, Tyrell began his departure from the command bridge and towards the hangar. With the aid of his can he strode through the ship’s steel corridors with a confident spring his limp. He boarded the small command shuttle that would take him to the planet's surface where he would meet up with the Sovereign-Imperator and the others. As they approached the landing zone, Tyrell could feel an indescribable presence of torment and vexation. This strange and rather unpleasant sensation was eventually recognized as the presence of Vaulkhar Zambrano as he came face to face with the Executor when exiting his command shuttle.

Tyrell did his best to ignore the Zambrano’s metaphysical presence as they all crossed the arid substrate and into the ‘kill hall’. Despite his impairment he managed to keep pace with the otherwise unimpeded stride of the Sovereign-Imperator and the others. It wouldn’t be a good look if the Grand Vizier didn’t keep up, He was thankful that Irveric Tavlar recognized that he more than made up for what he was lacking physically for what he still possessed mentally. Tyrell was far from the young gun he used to be, at least physically. Where he had lost the unimpeded use of his body, he had gained priceless experience as a strategic mind and diplomat. If anyone still doubted him, this was the chance to lay it to rest, at least for the time being.

 

[Tarrik Kestis]

Objective: Guns of the Patriots
Location: Krieg
Tags: Irveric Tavlar Vaulkhar Lucien Dooku Tyrell Paxxus

Tarrik had been a part of a glorious day, he had accompanied his Master Vaulkhar to a diplomatic meeting involving the likes of the Sovereign Imperator himself. Arriving amongst several advisors. The mysterious Inquisitor remained silent. Only speaking when spoken to, all the while the never-ending deathly chill of his master filled him with such dread. It only seemed as death was only relief. Even as they approached the Mandalorians, the silence only prevailed. Walking in line with the rest, shuddering slightly feeling a deep freeze that echoed the presence of the Executor. As if the likeness of Sith Lords wouldn’t compare to such a terrifying feeling that sent his spine crawling in dread.

Moving in step with the rest of the group, he mainly focused his thoughts on how it would be the first of many days to come. How the pretenders would fall. A new order would rise. One that would restore the likes of what a true Imperial face would be. One that could bring order to the galaxy. With the Mandalorians' help, they could ensure that the path to conquest would be safely assured.

In order to bring down the Sith. One needed to utilize all the assets you had. To unite foes and turn them into allies. For in the end there was only one truth. That was the end of the Sith, and restoration of the old ways. The old ways that brought enlightenment for a time. That they still do to this day. It had what kept the First Brother going. It was all he could do not to let the fear of his master get to him as they approached the meeting.

 

[Wilhuff Krieg]

// OBJECTIVE // I - Guns Of the Patriots
// FOCUS // Careena Fett | Harath Eldar | Tyrell Paxxus | Tarrik Kestis

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< "Even still he put our people to the slaughter on Mandalore - or at the very least contributed to it. Though they've matched their words with actions I'll admit, during a Sith excursion to Velmor these New Imperial Orders struck dead a Dark Councilor with a meager host. Even still, they're in the shadow of a goliath. If we're to contribute to their cause we need to know they've the chance." > Bralor states outright in shades of bitterness drenching his tone in response to Eldar and Fett. Soon enough, the Sovereign Imperator and his retinue emerged into the enclave. Turning with slow gaze toward them, offering a nod toward Tavlar and the others.

< "And so they have arrived..." > Bralor remarked, his helmet distorted by the Beskar helmet.

< "Our kind have allied with Empires before and while we share the Sith as a common enemy...you must understand our reluctance toward risking everything and throwing our people into the fray once more. You all should know what the Sith will do to all of us if we fail..." > Kestus stated outright toward the Imperials before he eventually sat himself down. Worn bones and spent muscles weighed heavy, the armor wearing thin on his mortal shell as he let off a groan, glancing between the other two Mandalorians to glean their input.

 

[Zaine Balfur]

Z a i n e _ B a l f u r

| Objective | Neutralize hostile natives/fauna​

| Location | Aeten II​

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Captain Balfur leaned back in his seat inside of the APC, his ICWS laid out on his lap with a hand keeping it from falling off as the transport rumbled while crossing over craggy terrain. His eyes flicked from one side to the other as he was reading his HUD readouts to make sure everything was sorted; Pulse-stable, suit-sealed, ammunition-check, comms-check. He tilted his head to the side, stretching himself a little in the cramped interior filled with Auxilia and Knights as the High Knight Marshal was communicating with aerial reconnaissance.​

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There were few things that Zaine disliked and unfortunately for him based off of what the High Knight Marshal said, bugs were one of them, thinking silently to himself ' Bugs...Why'd it have to be bugs? '. He would keep his grievances with bugs stowed away for the time being; at least until one of them tried to rip off his leg. His gaze shifted as he waited patiently for the APC to arrive so that they could disembark and begin operations to neutralize and clear the mining site of any hostile presence, in this case, likely swarms of bugs. ​

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Imperial Warlord Zovesa ​

 

[Thaelius]

// OBJECTIVE // I - Guns Of the Patriots
// FOCUS // Irveric Tavlar Vaulkhar Lucien Dooku
// Location // Brdige, The Black Sword - The Mandolorian Enclave

High Admiral Thaelius Ordo paced the bridge of the Black Sword nervously. There were very little military objectives for him to take care of so ideally, the negotiations were his best hope of finding entertainment. "Senior Captain, alert our other vessels to maintain a standard orbit. If another Admiral takes command, follow their orders. Needless to remind you, you are no longer a member of my remenat, instead you are a high-ranking officer in the Navy of the New Imperial Order" Thaelius firmly reminded the Black Swords Senior Officer.

"Yes, High Admiral" the Captain responded. After pondering the Captains loyalty for half a second, Thaelius and his personal bguards, specialized stormtroopers clad in black and purple armor and their way to the hangar bay inserting themselves into a shuttle and headed for the Mandolorian Enclave.

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As the Shuttle landed, Thaelius braced himself for the coming discussion. While the his people were great warriors, they had to have had some concerns. Those concerns would require the Sovereign Imperator and his diplomatic team to "smooth" over.

And due to his boredom, he would be required to help reassure the people. Thaelius entered the enclave short of any guards or weapons. Instead, he oddly wore the Beskar'gam of his ancestors. The Chiss-Mandolorian Hybrid was quite the oddball out in the room.

Even though his face was covered by the white and red painted armor, his rank plate and style of walking made him stand out. Realizing his armor was of concern to all those involved, he removed his helmet revealing his blue Chiss face. But the Mandolorian features were also prominent. His skin was deeper than usual, his eyes mimicked that of his mother.

"I am Admiral Thaelius Ordo. I am here on behalf of my Siverign Imperator. I understand I stike you as unusual, yes? I strike you as a pretender? Someone unworthy of wearing this Beskar'gam?"

OOC: Yep, I messed up on delivery. I put a exclamation mark instead of a question mark. My bad, fam.

 

[Darth Assimilus]

Many things in life ive been. Trailing many paths, In the end its always who I was. Red skin. From dark Jedi, Sith to Mandalorian. Now I serve yet another empire filled with what could be considered archaic men. Was I so different? No. In fact I outdated most if not all. Ive experienced poodoo within periods and era's of galactic history that most would not believe. During the galactic civil war my work with the Galactic Empire was brief and yet oh so sweet. The pay out was big. It made me happy but only if my contractors didnt get snappy.

Soo many titles and claims to fame. Troubles and toils that twist. All of which burn in the fiery flames of past shames. I have no one to blame but myself. And so here I stand. Clad in armor of pearly white and marked with the strips of crimson. Burdened to serve. Throughout my two thousand five hundred twelve years of living, It always struck a nerve.

To serve.
To take orders and not give back disorder.

One man army. The Immortal. Titan of Fury. Vessel of rage. Manifestation of Armageddon. Primordial of Hate. The Malevolent. The Hateful. The Beholder. Mad dog of the Sith and Embodiment of the Darkside. Ashes and cinders. Blown into oblivion. Whatever what was, is no more.

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Objective II - Kubaza Elimination​

KZ-729. Known am I.
Private Kezeroth. Soldier.
A force within hid.​

Kubaza beetles.
Now mission confirmation.
Eliminate pests.

They lead, I follow.
Transformation. No demur.
New empires oblige.​

" Yes, sir." ​

 

[Careena Fett]

C a r e e n a _ F e t t

| Objective | Guns of the Patriots​

| Location | Krieg - Planetside, Sons of Mandalore Enclave​

| Company | Kestus Bralor / Harath Eldar / Irveric Tavlar / Vaulkhar / Tyrell Paxxus / Lucien Dooku / Thaelius ​

The female Fett muttered under her breath as she listened to her Mandalorian companions, < We shall see... > Careena's gaze shifted once the diplomats arrived, having entered through the one entrance into the room as she unfolded her arms from her chest as she eyed them with disgust from beneath her pale helmet as the four of them entered. None of them spoke, except for the Chiss with the pompous attitude. Already they had come off on bad footing, as one of the subordinates spoke out of turn. Without hesitation she reached down to her hip, fingers wrapping around the grip of her WESTAR-35 as she raised it up and aimed it directly at the Chiss' chest as she spoke in Galactic Basic, " You will remain silent unless you have something useful to say. This meeting was called to speak with your Imperator, not you. "​

​

She spoke with cold indifference and made it abundantly clear that she was more than comfortable shooting them on the spot. She lifted her aim up before returning the WESTAR-35 back to its holster. A Mandalorian did not flaunt rank or power as the Chiss did, and it already put the Alor to Clan Fett off that they would be so pompous to act as if such things mattered to them. Respect was earned by feats on the battlefield, not fancy titles given to them. This Chiss was no Mandalorian in their eyes.​

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

Objective II : Rock Raiders
Locations : Aeten II, aboard MAAG Ship I
Tags : Imperial Warlord Zovesa

“We finally landed a decent station and now we’re following a pack of force users out into this?” the Trooper’s accusations were hissed under a single breath, the Captain’s visor tilted toward Lyra.

The hail of the noxious rain beating like a drum against the ship’s frame, filled the stretch of silence between them. Lyra understood the animosity but they had agreed on the briefing before walking in this madness.

“I’m just beginning to suspect you just don’t like getting your boots dirty anymore Captain,” Lyra finally addressed the woman at her side, in part distracted as her mind was entrapped in an ugly cycle of planning. Her audio receptors catching the trooper’s scoff.

The varying opinions on the ‘bug hunt’ were easy to pick out from the squads when they had assembled at briefing, but maker forbid they had to exercise some form of unity with other forces. She hadn't any interest in petty infighting, let alone anyone trying to prove some point. The most competitive of nature had a prospective eagerness in light of the mission. Lyra couldn’t see the appeal in a investation flush out this late into the game. Swiftness, that what she wanted to see.

Trading a look with the Cpt. Appw’rii before turning her attentions back to the glasteel ports. The pilots were wound up worse than a detonator, the visibility stained by the volcanic fallout. A particularly nasty gust rocking the transport as the storm brewed around them. Stepping back from the cockpit, Lyra regarded the desert waste then the communications panel on her forearm. They were shadowing the Force Corp’s small detachment, both ships flying low trailing behind the TXT XV-60a.

“MAAG team two, do you read?”

Lyra waited in a heartbeat.

“Loud and clear ma’am.”

“Goood, keep it close. we’ll be knee deep in the shavit show soon enough.” Lyra advised, dropping the comm line as she turned exiting when durasteel doors flashed open.

Raising a hand catching the strap over her shoulder, checking for the rifle like clockwork.. Appw’rii fell in behind her as they joined the two squads in the hull; their footsteps heavy. Two lines of grey augmented armored rangers were waiting, weathering the turbulence.

It was a bleak party and the acumen supplemented the poor lighting of the ship. Armor had been outfitted respectably for the hellscape they were walking into, and anti corrosion coating added onto enigma pattern plates; ponchos and visors an additional measure. She offered the rangers a once over, her hard exhale mute as she marched down the line of soldiers. Glancing down to the interface, she adjusted the communications transmitting to the the Marshal Zovesa.

“Genesis Rifle Team One reporting in, we’ve got your six High Knight Marshall” the Colonel spoke up.

 

[Ravraa Vyshraal]

Location: Krieg
Role: VIP Guard
Objective: Guns Of The Patriots
---

The Mandalore that Ravraa had grown up hearing stories about was dead long before he was even born. Yes, his childhood had seen the rise of the Mandalorian Empire, the Sons of Mandalore, and whatever clans wished to claim the title of nation-state when they felt the need. Yes, they were prominent and nearly in every corner of the Galaxy. It was not the Mandalore of old. They were not the Mandalorians of old. The ones who sacked Coruscant during the height of the Sith Wars, the ones who rode with the Darths against the Republic, the ones who brought the Galaxy to it's knees time and time again. They were no longer knights on droidback, screaming in through the stratosphere atop a basilisk, they were lost and dispersed. An utter diaspora caused by war and conflict. The very heart of their culture had finally come back to bite the clans, it dug deep, and now they sat bleeding out on backwater worlds or tugged along strings like marionettes by the Sith Emperor.

They had fallen, and he wasn't sure if they had realized that.

He would have been lying if he said he wasn't excited for this assignment. It was a new world he had never set foot on, a new planet, something he wasn't even sure his old freighter had on it's starcharts. Krieg. The name rang out to him again and again as he rolled it over in his mouth during the shuttle ride down to the world. It was a strange world, tidally locked, burning from the blazing sun on one side and lost to the abyss of the void on the other. He had been on tidally locked worlds before, but more of the classical "eyeball worlds" as they were called. Typically hot, tropical, this planet promised something different. Past the grandeur of a new playground to explore, he was made to understand the exact nature of why he was selected to go with the diplomatic corps. He had no reason to endanger the Sovereign, he had no reason to hold strong opinions on the Mandalorians, and he certainly would treat the situation with a grain of respect and calm.

The joy that it was to lie on your recruitment forum. Putting on a straight face during reviews and chats with his commanding officers was difficult, yes, but if he was able to stay on he would do what it would take. Anything to see the wretched Dark Empire fall and for anything to take it's place.

The Galaxy had been, and would always be, a cosmopolitan place. Especially in this day and age, where travel was so commonplace that people even stepped into the Unknown Regions, it would be impossible to find someone that didn't have basic knowledge on at least a few of the languages and cultures that dotted the map. Mando'a, Huttese, and very basic Low Sith were some that Ravraa had went out of his way to gain a foothold in. He would never consider himself fluent, but he knew enough, just enough, to get by in most situations. He didn't know proper grammar for each, spatterings of conjugations and morphology but never anything proper. He never wished to be a bumbling tourist when he traveled. This, so far, had helped him during his tours. He had no idea it would have played into today.

Now, he stepped in order behind the Sovereign himself. It was a feeling of pride mixed with indignation. As far as he could tell, from the brief microcosms of personality that he was able to pick up on, Tavlar seemed approachable. Not in the same sense that your best friend would be approachable. He reminded Ravraa much more of a stern father figure, someone that you could pick at for life advice and ideas when everything else seemed lost. Ravraa wished it wouldn't be a breach of the damned protocol, he wished that the entire hierarchy that the Galaxy jackbootedly stepped to hardly existed. His personality clawed at the edges of his armor, threatening to burst the betaplast and crack his visor.

The trip was supposed to go simply and quickly, and the trooper assumed that he was mainly there for show. Once the gathering had properly entered the room where the discussion was supposed to take place, however, he knew things would sour. He entered with the rest of the diplo corps, his rifle held at attention as he faux-marched alongside. The living examples of Beskar across the table were impressive to say the least, but all Mandalorians were to Ravraa. Soldiers by nature, it was something he could never see himself as. Their tones were the standard to the Togruta, as he expected from them. Gruff, kept cool, trying their best to never betray the fact that underneath the layers of blasters and metal, they were people to. They had fallen, quick to answer with a dismissal, quick to distrust, quick to flee. He sympathized. His eyes danced across the snow colored plate of one of the Mandalorians, wondering what Clan she might belong to.

Then Ordo arrived, Ravraa recognized his voice nearly instantly from the Throne Room on Nirauan. He hardly had time to register what he had said before he saw the flash of a pistol being drawn.

He took a step forward, putting himself between Ordo and the would be killer, bringing his rifle to his shoulder as quickly as he could and sighting down. Visor dead center.

"Drop the blaster!" Or I'll drop you he yelled in Mando'a and finished the thought to himself in Basic. He was prepped to let a round fly from his SFR, cycle and move to the next target. He was prepped to shoot his way out. It was his job, of course. He just hoped it wouldn't come to that.

---
//tags Careena Fett Kestus Bralor Harath Eldar Irveric Tavlar Vaulkhar Tyrell Paxxus Lucien Dooku Thaelius Darth Assimilus Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt

 

[Darth Assimilus]

Objective II: Aeten II
Tags: Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Imperial Warlord Zovesa

Bug Hunt

Arrive Aeten II.
Metal meets volcanic land
Fresh armor. Dirt'n'grime.

Voices of my superiors sound, meeting silent determination by the masses.
We were soldiers.

We mount BARC speeders.
Organic and metallic.
Imported Lava fleas.

Aeten II was not for the faint of heart.
Mission Objective; Save the natural resources. Exterminate insectoid pests.

Kubaza beetles.
Were native to Mustafar.
How did they get here.

" KZ-729. Reporting in!" I turned and nodded to my immediate superior. Looking down on them from my angle.
This was going to be difficult to adapt to. Taking Orders.

 

[Marlon Sularen]

Location | Kreig
Objective | Guns of the Patriots
Tags | Irveric Tavlar | Vaulkhar | Tyrell Paxxus | Kestus Bralor | Harath Eldar | Lucien Dooku | Thaelius | Ravraa Vyshraal

Marlon Sularen's Ship , the Dauntless jumped out of hyperspace arriving in orbit of the Planet Kreig in what was formerly known as Mandalorian Space. With the very Core of the New Imperial Order secured , the NIO had moved outwards beginning it's campaign to expand as much as possible before open warfare with the Sith could begin. Their first target , the worlds of Kreig and Aeten II. While elements of the New Imperial Military fought off wild creatures on Aeten II , the Vice-Admiral had decided to partake in the diplomatic talks between the Sons of Mandalore and the NIO.

Since the Battle of Mandalore between the Network and the Sith Empire , the Mandalorians had yet still remained scattered in what was once called Mandalorian Space. Thousands of worlds that once made part of the United Clans of Mandalore were now occupied by scattered Mandalorian Tribes who had yet to recover from their losses to both the Jedi and Sith. Despite the Sovereign Imperator's past with the Mandalorians , in the eyes of Sularen they could be a prime ally to the New Imperial Order not only for the war with the Sith but even afterwards. Mandalorians were fierce warriors who shared the same common enemies as the NIO : Sith , Jedi and those affiliated with them.

As the Dauntless approached Kreig , Marlon Sularen ordered the Captain to prepare his shuttle. The Upcoming meeting was of uttermost importance to the New Imperial Order given at how the Sons of Mandalore could increase the NIO's numbers significantly and bring highly trained soldiers into the field and as an Imperial Officer attending such meetings would be critical especially if there were some potential opportunities that he could take advantage. Soon boarding his shuttle , Marlon left for the planet unaware of the little spectacle that was taking place on the Enclave below.

 

[Asmus Omaand]

| Objective 2 | Bug Hunt
| Tags | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Imperial Warlord Zovesa Zaine Balfur

Specialist Asmus silently listened to the marshal speak, fingers of one hand tracing the vibroblade in the thigh sheath built into his armor. The modular weapon was setup as a rifle-style blaster for this outting, pistols, blades, and knuckles as the last resort. Not that he wanted to get particularly close to these bugs, but he doubted very much they were going to be shy about greeting their en-route eviction and extermination team when the boots hit the ground.

The other hand felt the cloak, pulling and testing without damaging the thing. Foul rain made them required, and it was likely they wouldn't hold up well against anything more than the rain. The transport rumbled along and the recon team was set on their task. A check of his suit followed shortly, hud, vitals, ammunition, melee weapons. All checked and stowed as he waited for the rumble and roll to stop.

Spoiler

Equipment

• New Imperial Storm Armor MK-IV
• BH 'Specter' Slicer Vibroknife x2
• REC-VKN-01 "Tekko" Pattern Vibroknuckler x2
• BH 'Saria' Interchangeable Weapon System
• REC-DC/04 'Feverwasp' Pattern Particle Beam Blaster Pistol x2