M E A T B A G
Location: Expansion Region; Ehosiq Sector; Kiros System; Kiros - Artisan Colony.
Objective: Draw out the Mandalorian Garrison; Slaughter them all.
Allies: The Golden Company, The Core Imperial Federation.
Enemies: The United Clans of Mandalore.
Equipment: See Signature.
Ground Force Complement: 43rd Legion "The Argonauts" with Dedicated, Mechanized Support.
It was said that knowledge was akin to power and that whoever held the greater sum was meant to guard it well - lest others become more powerful than they. It was a lesson that Khonsu learned well during his secret tenure as a Sith Lord's apprentice. The man already knew that the more one learned about their opponent, the easier it was to predict and perceive how they'd react to a scenario. So, when he was taught to enhance his methodology and apply it to more than just the ever-shifting flow of combat; Khonsu would find himself capable of shaping entire battlefields to his design. Such was the case with Kiros.
As became standard in recent years, the Thrysian detachment - under the banner of the Core Imperials - deployed a collection of deep space reconnaissance drones to scout the surrounding system. Their sensor clusters would divine the enemy's position and numerical strength, before feeding that information back to the fleet; which in turn allowed them to devise the best possible approach to destroy their foes before reinforcements could arrive. Such an act also allow for the collection of data that represented fixed emplacements, astronavigational hazards and the location of orbital stations - or outposts. All of which would be folded into the grand strategy and utilized as they moved forward, staking their proverbial claim on the system.
So, when Khonsu's eyes bore witness to how… empty the system seemed to be, there was a slight twinge of disappointment that fluttered through his mind. He expected to see a thriving community that was forged from humble colonial origins. However, what was laid bare for all to see was the stagnant nature of reality that once gripped the entire Galaxy. Kiros was a world that time forgot. It wasn't a sprawling centre of trade, nor commerce. Nor was it a bustling industrial hub - where thousands of starships travelled to and fro; ferrying goods off-world and towards distant stars. What made this world interesting, beyond the sudden and drastic change in topographical landmarks - was that it was a world nestled within the Mandalorian's sphere of dwindling influence.
It didn't matter if the Mandalorian's themselves weren't here in force. It didn't matter if they would simply watch from the sidelines, as people they trusted and brought into the fold were slaughtered. In the end - everything that would transpire on the surface of Kiros would become a message to the Galaxy; that the Mandalorians couldn't defend their territory, and weren't the mythological warriors, they claimed to be. That was an eventuality that perfectly suited the Supreme Sun Guardian's needs. Their storied legacy was threatened by the resurgence of the Sun Guard, who - ironically - made better Mandalorians than the Scions of Mandalore themselves. Or, at least, so he was told. Whether that was truth or fiction didn't really concern the Thyrsian Warlord.
All the man cared about was ensuring that his culture wouldn't fade quietly into the night; not without cementing their place in history as one of the most fearsome warriors this universe has ever seen. Let others be inspired by the lasting legacy of martial prowess his kindred and he were forging. Let others take up the mantle of Thrysian, and bear the sigils of the Twin Suns proudly. Let them rage against the coming darkness, and embrace death as if were a long-lost friend - before laughing all-the-while in its face. That was their way of life, and the Warlord was more than happy to share it with everyone who stood in his way or sought to deny his species manifested destiny.
Blinking aside the almost religious fervour that consumed his thoughts, Khonsu found himself glancing around at his fellow Sun Guards; who were taking their positions beside him within the dropship. Amongst their ever-growing number, the man saw the curved horns of the Princess turned Soldier; Illyria Syresh. She endured horrors most couldn't fathom, and yet struggled against the darkness eating away at her own mind. The woman had potential but feared to take the necessary steps to embrace it. She hated the Mandalorians just as much as the Thyrsian did, yet wasn't willing to take action against them. At first, he couldn't blame her. Illyria lived a life of comfort and wasn't honed into a weapon at a young age like he was. She never knew a life of adversity - of struggling against supposed friends in a bid to survive. The woman was soft, in his eyes, but wasn't worthy of being discarded.
With the proper training and manipulation - she would become one of the greatest warrior princesses ever to stride the stars. Sure, she would hate him for everything that she was forced to do. For who wouldn't hate their teacher if they forced you to confront your fears and proverbially strangle the life out of them? However, that depthless emotion - like all things - would eventually fade away in time. She would possibly thank him in the future for reconnecting her with her people's martial roots and revealing the heart of the warrior that beat within her breast. Until that moment came, however, the man was forced to endure her seething stares during muster and the vitriol that spilled from her alien lips whenever she deigned to speak to him.
It was at that moment, after having tipped his helmet to acknowledge the newfound presence of his prodigy, Khonsu's darkened eyes were drawn to the arrival of a curiously constructed battle droid; who stood outside of his dropship with an impossibly murderous hint flashing through its single photoreceptor. The platform that malign intelligence inhabited was eerily similar to the War Platforms that accompanied the Forty-Third Legion, yet, it didn't bear the hallmarks of their Coruscanti construction. That left him wondering if his contacts within the Republic Engineering Corporation had unwittingly copied this platform's design before creating thousands of life-like copies. When it spoke - the Thyrsian Warlord found himself taken aback with how it identified the Mandalorians as worthless scum. Who knew a machine could hate as much as an organic being.
After the platform made the pledge of support in exchange for violence, Khonsu nodded and welcomed the Droid - and his newfound companions aboard. It'd be a tight fit, but with how far they were travelling and with the lack of expected aerial interception? Such cramped conditions would be a minor inconvenience at best. As the last of the battle droids boarded his transport, the primary dorsal hangar bay of the Wyvern began to part; revealing the bespeckled darkness of the void beyond. Several Imperial dropships raced out of the cavernous chamber as soon as they were given clearance - followed swiftly thereafter by a squadron of escort fighters. While Khonsu expected to be a part of the Vanguard, there were those within the Imperial Federation that wished to show the Mercenary Outfit how it was done. So, the man would permit them the honour of being the first into the fray, for this was their operation after all, and he was but an invited guest. When the green light finally came, and the magnetic clamps sealing their drop ship to the deck deactivated, Khonsu found himself smiling.
Let those Imperials be the first to make planetfall, for they would likely be the first to find themselves disappointingly starved for the expected laurels of honour and glory.
The journey towards the surface was awkwardly silent, as several Sun Guards found themselves shifting about for a measure of comfort - only to find themselves face-to-face with one of the murderous battle droids. While robots and artificial sentients were treated as equals within the Golden Company - there was a certain distrust that formed from their encounters with foreign constructs. So, as one can imagine, there were a few choice comments whispered across Thyrsian-encrypted channels, and muffled chuckles that erupted from seemingly no-where. Khonsu paid little attention to such banter, as the man found himself wondering what to expect when they reached the surface.
Preliminary reports, gathered by the established intelligence network, stated that the populace acquiesced to the Captain's demands. They had one hour to vacate to their respective shelters and await salvation from their Mandalorian compatriots. However, sixty minutes wasn't enough time for an entire planet to drop what it was doing and flee. They wouldn't shift into orderly lines and trudge towards safety, and if they did? It wouldn't last as the first of the defoliators were fired at the surface. Panic would soon set in, and the populace would begin dashing madly towards their bunkers - hoping to escape the coming firestorm. With a majority of the populace caught out in the open, there was a possibility of the Imperial bombardment catching these scared civilians out in the open; which meant they would die screaming in agony as they were caught, unprotected, within the heart of an expanding inferno.
Surely, if there were Mandalorian forces on the surface - or in a nearby system - the deaths of so many proclaimed innocents would be enough to force their hand. If not? Then perhaps the flagrant destruction of the abnormal flora, and fauna that overtook Kiros in recent years might spur them into action. Khonsu couldn't tell what would transpire, as the man wasn't a prognosticator. He would simply have to wait and see how the Scions of Mandalore reacted, like the rest of the Imperial task force.
When they broke through the stratosphere, and when the defoliator bombardment began to peter out, the dropship's blast shields retracted; revealing the gathering of warriors within the belly of the metallic beast. Nearly a squadron of Thyrsian Dropships and Shuttles lanced towards the despoiled surface of Kiros - aiming to lay claim to the Artisan Colony that acted as the system's Planetary Capital. With such a settlement under their control, they would effectively deny the populace a chance to escape; as that was where the primary starports were located. Sure, there was likely to be smaller ports seeded across the globe, but they wouldn't house anything more substantial than a shuttle - which meant there wouldn't be a mass exodus. When they inevitably secured the cliffside City, the combined Imperial and Thyrsian force would effectively hold Kiros hostage as they set about securing the planet. If that eventuality came to pass - Victory wouldn't be far out of reach.
So, as the dropships loomed closer, Khonsu opened a channel to his Legion of Sun Guards making planetfall at his side. He informed them of his expectation and what they may be forced to do. He also told them of how cowardly it was for their cultural rivals to leave their territory undefended - and how it was their duty to force their hand. The man wasn't one for speeches but felt a measure of pride in seeing several of his comrades smile at his words. Not all of them would agree with what would happen here, and that was fine. They were welcome and often encouraged to voice their disapproval. The Sun Guard weren't collared hounds who barked for scraps from the masters' table. They were outcasts and warriors, reforged in gold and given a new purpose beneath the banner of the Twin Suns.
It simply wouldn't do for a family, forged by the shifting tides of conflict, to keep secrets from one another.
Wiping aside the irony of such a thought, the secret apprentice of the Sith found himself looking over the edge of his transport and bearing witness to the stragglers that streamed from the city towards supposed salvation.
:: Outriders,:: the Thyrsian Warlord began, after keying open an encrypted channel. :: Sweep the surface and eliminate any Mandalorian forces you encounter. Report any and all civilian shelters and bunkers you find. We'll secure them after we take the Artisan Colony. If you locate any Military Installations - break them open and slaughter everyone that you encounter within for the sin of cowardice. We don't abide by warriors hiding in bunkers when there's a battle to win. ::
Without waiting for a response, but leaving the channel open for any replies, Khonsu gestured for his compatriots to make the drop. They were well-above the city now and were within the range of any concealed aerial interception devices. That meant they needed to be swift, and with their apparent lack of opposition - it would be best to keep the dropships airborne so that they could swiftly establish aerial superiority. It was an overly cautious act, but with their lack of dedicated transportation; the Thyrsian wanted to ensure that his comrades had an avenue of withdrawal if things somehow got too hot to handle. They couldn't live to fight another day if surprise missile launchers destroyed their transports and left them stranded on a world behind enemy lines.
As the crimson overhead lighting shifted from a pulsating crimson to steady green, the Sun Guard and their Droid companions leapt out of the troop compartment and speared towards the city below. With the surface racing towards him as he fell, Khonsu activated his newly acquired belt attachment and swiftly found himself in the impact gel's embrace. It wasn't graceful, but it was enough to see him to the surface safely; and allowed for him to relish the sheer bliss that flushed through his veins. The rush was captivating, and the Master of the Sun Guard was ecstatic that he was finally able to utilize these devices in combat. While the pleasurable sensation was the same as all the simulations they ran before the mission began, it was nothing when compared to actually deploying into a newly established combat zone.
Biting his tongue to force his mind back into the present, Khonsu swiftly roused himself from the jiggling cube of impact gel - allowing the gelatinous remnants to slough off his armoured form as he moved into cover. Unslinging his rifle from a magnetic mount, the Thyrsian warrior thumbed the activation prime and listened as his weapon cycled live. As more and more of his comrades made planetfall through various means - be they deposited by shuttles that risked a combat drop to deliver their armour and mechanized units, or the impact gel - Khonsu found himself feeling off. Something wasn't right. Though the city was expected to be empty - what with the populace having fled towards designated shelters - he expected some form of opposition. However, there was nothing that he could see; not even the odd Colonist that wished to remain behind to defend whatever miserable belongs in their possession.
Objective: Draw out the Mandalorian Garrison; Slaughter them all.
Allies: The Golden Company, The Core Imperial Federation.
Enemies: The United Clans of Mandalore.
Equipment: See Signature.
Ground Force Complement: 43rd Legion "The Argonauts" with Dedicated, Mechanized Support.
It was said that knowledge was akin to power and that whoever held the greater sum was meant to guard it well - lest others become more powerful than they. It was a lesson that Khonsu learned well during his secret tenure as a Sith Lord's apprentice. The man already knew that the more one learned about their opponent, the easier it was to predict and perceive how they'd react to a scenario. So, when he was taught to enhance his methodology and apply it to more than just the ever-shifting flow of combat; Khonsu would find himself capable of shaping entire battlefields to his design. Such was the case with Kiros.
As became standard in recent years, the Thrysian detachment - under the banner of the Core Imperials - deployed a collection of deep space reconnaissance drones to scout the surrounding system. Their sensor clusters would divine the enemy's position and numerical strength, before feeding that information back to the fleet; which in turn allowed them to devise the best possible approach to destroy their foes before reinforcements could arrive. Such an act also allow for the collection of data that represented fixed emplacements, astronavigational hazards and the location of orbital stations - or outposts. All of which would be folded into the grand strategy and utilized as they moved forward, staking their proverbial claim on the system.
So, when Khonsu's eyes bore witness to how… empty the system seemed to be, there was a slight twinge of disappointment that fluttered through his mind. He expected to see a thriving community that was forged from humble colonial origins. However, what was laid bare for all to see was the stagnant nature of reality that once gripped the entire Galaxy. Kiros was a world that time forgot. It wasn't a sprawling centre of trade, nor commerce. Nor was it a bustling industrial hub - where thousands of starships travelled to and fro; ferrying goods off-world and towards distant stars. What made this world interesting, beyond the sudden and drastic change in topographical landmarks - was that it was a world nestled within the Mandalorian's sphere of dwindling influence.
For the sin of that alone, this world would burn.
It didn't matter if the Mandalorian's themselves weren't here in force. It didn't matter if they would simply watch from the sidelines, as people they trusted and brought into the fold were slaughtered. In the end - everything that would transpire on the surface of Kiros would become a message to the Galaxy; that the Mandalorians couldn't defend their territory, and weren't the mythological warriors, they claimed to be. That was an eventuality that perfectly suited the Supreme Sun Guardian's needs. Their storied legacy was threatened by the resurgence of the Sun Guard, who - ironically - made better Mandalorians than the Scions of Mandalore themselves. Or, at least, so he was told. Whether that was truth or fiction didn't really concern the Thyrsian Warlord.
All the man cared about was ensuring that his culture wouldn't fade quietly into the night; not without cementing their place in history as one of the most fearsome warriors this universe has ever seen. Let others be inspired by the lasting legacy of martial prowess his kindred and he were forging. Let others take up the mantle of Thrysian, and bear the sigils of the Twin Suns proudly. Let them rage against the coming darkness, and embrace death as if were a long-lost friend - before laughing all-the-while in its face. That was their way of life, and the Warlord was more than happy to share it with everyone who stood in his way or sought to deny his species manifested destiny.
Blinking aside the almost religious fervour that consumed his thoughts, Khonsu found himself glancing around at his fellow Sun Guards; who were taking their positions beside him within the dropship. Amongst their ever-growing number, the man saw the curved horns of the Princess turned Soldier; Illyria Syresh. She endured horrors most couldn't fathom, and yet struggled against the darkness eating away at her own mind. The woman had potential but feared to take the necessary steps to embrace it. She hated the Mandalorians just as much as the Thyrsian did, yet wasn't willing to take action against them. At first, he couldn't blame her. Illyria lived a life of comfort and wasn't honed into a weapon at a young age like he was. She never knew a life of adversity - of struggling against supposed friends in a bid to survive. The woman was soft, in his eyes, but wasn't worthy of being discarded.
With the proper training and manipulation - she would become one of the greatest warrior princesses ever to stride the stars. Sure, she would hate him for everything that she was forced to do. For who wouldn't hate their teacher if they forced you to confront your fears and proverbially strangle the life out of them? However, that depthless emotion - like all things - would eventually fade away in time. She would possibly thank him in the future for reconnecting her with her people's martial roots and revealing the heart of the warrior that beat within her breast. Until that moment came, however, the man was forced to endure her seething stares during muster and the vitriol that spilled from her alien lips whenever she deigned to speak to him.
A small price to pay for another sharpened sword in my scabbard, the man mused.
It was at that moment, after having tipped his helmet to acknowledge the newfound presence of his prodigy, Khonsu's darkened eyes were drawn to the arrival of a curiously constructed battle droid; who stood outside of his dropship with an impossibly murderous hint flashing through its single photoreceptor. The platform that malign intelligence inhabited was eerily similar to the War Platforms that accompanied the Forty-Third Legion, yet, it didn't bear the hallmarks of their Coruscanti construction. That left him wondering if his contacts within the Republic Engineering Corporation had unwittingly copied this platform's design before creating thousands of life-like copies. When it spoke - the Thyrsian Warlord found himself taken aback with how it identified the Mandalorians as worthless scum. Who knew a machine could hate as much as an organic being.
After the platform made the pledge of support in exchange for violence, Khonsu nodded and welcomed the Droid - and his newfound companions aboard. It'd be a tight fit, but with how far they were travelling and with the lack of expected aerial interception? Such cramped conditions would be a minor inconvenience at best. As the last of the battle droids boarded his transport, the primary dorsal hangar bay of the Wyvern began to part; revealing the bespeckled darkness of the void beyond. Several Imperial dropships raced out of the cavernous chamber as soon as they were given clearance - followed swiftly thereafter by a squadron of escort fighters. While Khonsu expected to be a part of the Vanguard, there were those within the Imperial Federation that wished to show the Mercenary Outfit how it was done. So, the man would permit them the honour of being the first into the fray, for this was their operation after all, and he was but an invited guest. When the green light finally came, and the magnetic clamps sealing their drop ship to the deck deactivated, Khonsu found himself smiling.
Let those Imperials be the first to make planetfall, for they would likely be the first to find themselves disappointingly starved for the expected laurels of honour and glory.
The journey towards the surface was awkwardly silent, as several Sun Guards found themselves shifting about for a measure of comfort - only to find themselves face-to-face with one of the murderous battle droids. While robots and artificial sentients were treated as equals within the Golden Company - there was a certain distrust that formed from their encounters with foreign constructs. So, as one can imagine, there were a few choice comments whispered across Thyrsian-encrypted channels, and muffled chuckles that erupted from seemingly no-where. Khonsu paid little attention to such banter, as the man found himself wondering what to expect when they reached the surface.
Preliminary reports, gathered by the established intelligence network, stated that the populace acquiesced to the Captain's demands. They had one hour to vacate to their respective shelters and await salvation from their Mandalorian compatriots. However, sixty minutes wasn't enough time for an entire planet to drop what it was doing and flee. They wouldn't shift into orderly lines and trudge towards safety, and if they did? It wouldn't last as the first of the defoliators were fired at the surface. Panic would soon set in, and the populace would begin dashing madly towards their bunkers - hoping to escape the coming firestorm. With a majority of the populace caught out in the open, there was a possibility of the Imperial bombardment catching these scared civilians out in the open; which meant they would die screaming in agony as they were caught, unprotected, within the heart of an expanding inferno.
Surely, if there were Mandalorian forces on the surface - or in a nearby system - the deaths of so many proclaimed innocents would be enough to force their hand. If not? Then perhaps the flagrant destruction of the abnormal flora, and fauna that overtook Kiros in recent years might spur them into action. Khonsu couldn't tell what would transpire, as the man wasn't a prognosticator. He would simply have to wait and see how the Scions of Mandalore reacted, like the rest of the Imperial task force.
When they broke through the stratosphere, and when the defoliator bombardment began to peter out, the dropship's blast shields retracted; revealing the gathering of warriors within the belly of the metallic beast. Nearly a squadron of Thyrsian Dropships and Shuttles lanced towards the despoiled surface of Kiros - aiming to lay claim to the Artisan Colony that acted as the system's Planetary Capital. With such a settlement under their control, they would effectively deny the populace a chance to escape; as that was where the primary starports were located. Sure, there was likely to be smaller ports seeded across the globe, but they wouldn't house anything more substantial than a shuttle - which meant there wouldn't be a mass exodus. When they inevitably secured the cliffside City, the combined Imperial and Thyrsian force would effectively hold Kiros hostage as they set about securing the planet. If that eventuality came to pass - Victory wouldn't be far out of reach.
So, as the dropships loomed closer, Khonsu opened a channel to his Legion of Sun Guards making planetfall at his side. He informed them of his expectation and what they may be forced to do. He also told them of how cowardly it was for their cultural rivals to leave their territory undefended - and how it was their duty to force their hand. The man wasn't one for speeches but felt a measure of pride in seeing several of his comrades smile at his words. Not all of them would agree with what would happen here, and that was fine. They were welcome and often encouraged to voice their disapproval. The Sun Guard weren't collared hounds who barked for scraps from the masters' table. They were outcasts and warriors, reforged in gold and given a new purpose beneath the banner of the Twin Suns.
It simply wouldn't do for a family, forged by the shifting tides of conflict, to keep secrets from one another.
Wiping aside the irony of such a thought, the secret apprentice of the Sith found himself looking over the edge of his transport and bearing witness to the stragglers that streamed from the city towards supposed salvation.
:: Outriders,:: the Thyrsian Warlord began, after keying open an encrypted channel. :: Sweep the surface and eliminate any Mandalorian forces you encounter. Report any and all civilian shelters and bunkers you find. We'll secure them after we take the Artisan Colony. If you locate any Military Installations - break them open and slaughter everyone that you encounter within for the sin of cowardice. We don't abide by warriors hiding in bunkers when there's a battle to win. ::
Without waiting for a response, but leaving the channel open for any replies, Khonsu gestured for his compatriots to make the drop. They were well-above the city now and were within the range of any concealed aerial interception devices. That meant they needed to be swift, and with their apparent lack of opposition - it would be best to keep the dropships airborne so that they could swiftly establish aerial superiority. It was an overly cautious act, but with their lack of dedicated transportation; the Thyrsian wanted to ensure that his comrades had an avenue of withdrawal if things somehow got too hot to handle. They couldn't live to fight another day if surprise missile launchers destroyed their transports and left them stranded on a world behind enemy lines.
As the crimson overhead lighting shifted from a pulsating crimson to steady green, the Sun Guard and their Droid companions leapt out of the troop compartment and speared towards the city below. With the surface racing towards him as he fell, Khonsu activated his newly acquired belt attachment and swiftly found himself in the impact gel's embrace. It wasn't graceful, but it was enough to see him to the surface safely; and allowed for him to relish the sheer bliss that flushed through his veins. The rush was captivating, and the Master of the Sun Guard was ecstatic that he was finally able to utilize these devices in combat. While the pleasurable sensation was the same as all the simulations they ran before the mission began, it was nothing when compared to actually deploying into a newly established combat zone.
Biting his tongue to force his mind back into the present, Khonsu swiftly roused himself from the jiggling cube of impact gel - allowing the gelatinous remnants to slough off his armoured form as he moved into cover. Unslinging his rifle from a magnetic mount, the Thyrsian warrior thumbed the activation prime and listened as his weapon cycled live. As more and more of his comrades made planetfall through various means - be they deposited by shuttles that risked a combat drop to deliver their armour and mechanized units, or the impact gel - Khonsu found himself feeling off. Something wasn't right. Though the city was expected to be empty - what with the populace having fled towards designated shelters - he expected some form of opposition. However, there was nothing that he could see; not even the odd Colonist that wished to remain behind to defend whatever miserable belongs in their possession.
"It's quiet," the man would say, as his darkened eyes swept across the settlement. "Too quiet."
| [member="Cynthia Alucard"] | [member="Prime"] | [member="Adenn Kyramud"] | [member="Valdus Bral"] | [member="Lannik Hayes"] | [member="Azure Djitred"] | [member="Reyn Australis"] | [member="Nicair Claden"] | [member="Koda Fett"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"] | [member="Mig Gred"] | [member="Isobel Mattis"] | [member="Grayson Mattis"] | [member="Careena Fett"] | [member="Vindicta"] | [member="Illyria Syresh"] | [member="Arash Garshasp"] |
)
