Dominion Doom of a Dynasty - BotM Dominion of Tiantang

[Maestus]

Pillaging in this area finished, she tilted her head. Something was calling to her. Beckoning her. She felt the surges in the Force, and the pain wafting over the Dark Side. With a growl, she whirled and strode from the room.

She retraced her steps as well as letting the Dark Side guide her. She wasn't sure what was casuing such a disturbance, only that something was brewing.

A few more turns, and she stormed in with The Mongrel and TK-818 . She took barely a second to get her bearings and take stock of what lay before her. And she spied her quarry.

The Master Monk.

Maestus upper lip curled into a cruel smirk. She flexed her hands and rolled her shoulders. Electricity began to crackle at her fingertips, perhaps betraying her next move. Or so she hoped.

Lifting her hands, she strode to The Mongrel and Sinh, stepping between the pair of monsters. She tipped her chin up, opening herself to the ebb and flow of the Dark Side. She let it envelope her, augment her body. It filled her with strength and resolve. She radiated rage and hatred.

Hatred for all those who stood in her way. And this master monk was certainly in her way for the moment.

Come, my heathen brethren. The fun is starting.

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Fangshi-Da Temple, Meditation Chamber
Tags: TK-818 | Maestus | Kyrel Ren

It was far from the first time that The Mongrel had stared down certain death, or suffered terrible injury. The battle-scarred marauder had learned that the key to long-term victory was sheer tenacity. No matter how many times his foes knocked him down, he got back up. No matter the war wounds he took, he returned to the fray. It was what had allowed him to rise from a pathetic, tortured slave to the leader of his own Bloodsworn raider band. The galaxy was full of heroes and monsters far more powerful than him, veritable living gods he could never hope to defeat, but each time he'd faced them he had lived to fight another day. It was why the Maw would win.

The old cycle was ending, and he was a herald of inevitable change.

So The Mongrel rose, finding his feet, hissing as lightning-blackened skin cracked and sloughed off and exposed the wet gore beneath. If he was going to die here, fighting against this master mage, he would die on his feet, and with the praises of the Avatars on his lips. He glanced over at TK-818 , who had been dashed against the wall by their foes' telekinesis; he could only hope that the Ren's skull had not been cracked by the terrible impact, and that he too would rise to die standing. No matter what happened, the time of the Fangshi monks was over. Their deaths would not change that. They had brought this stagnant order the killing blow it deserved, and earned glory.

That was also why the Maw would win. A thousand more waited to take his place. Others, just as tenacious, would rise.

But before he could make his final stand, the ragged marauder felt a change in the air, his arm hairs standing on end. He knew immediately that he was in the presence of a Warlord once again. Maestus stepped into the chamber, radiating immeasurable hatred, drawing strength from her rage. The Mongrel smiled; it was an ugly sight, born of savage glee and wicked triumph. The Fangshi Grand Master was more than a match for the likes of him... but in Maestus, he would find more than an equal. He believed himself master of a unified Way, wielding it with serenity. But she was a master of the Dark Side, steeped in the powers of destruction, unconquerable in battle.

Despite his wounds, which slowed him and limited him to a single weapon hand, The Mongrel was determined to claim as much glory as he could. That meant staying in the fight, and making sure that he had some chance to defeat these final foes. Even with Maestus occupying the Grand Master, he knew that his injuries would ensure he was no match for the final Master on his own. Gritting his jagged teeth to keep from stumbling as pain and exhaustion lanced through him, he stumbled over to where Sinh had fallen, checking his brother in arms for signs of life. Fumbling in his satchel with his good hand, he managed to pull out a medpack and jam it into the Ren's arm.

A blend of bacta and adrenals surged into Sinh's veins, hopefully repairing some of the damage that had been done by that brutal impact with the temple wall. The Mongrel could have saved it for himself, but he knew that the Ren was a far better match for one of the Fangshi Masters than he could hope to be on his best day; survival for both of them depended on Sinh staying in the fight. Then he spun on the spot, anticipating his opponent's next move... and holding up his trusty satchel in front of his face. Sure enough, three throwing stars embedded themselves in the leatheris bag. Mercifully, they failed to set off any of the explosives he'd crammed inside.

That would have been a truly ignominious end.

"Come, brother," The Mongrel said, offering Sinh a hand to haul him back to his feet. "Let's finish this." It wasn't a moment too soon; the last of the Masters was charging them, her fists readied to batter them both back to the floor, death blows this time. The monk had seen their tactics and bided her time, learning from everything they wielded against her now-dead comrades. She was ready to finish the fight, to evade everything they'd thrown at her so far and take her revenge on the temple's defilers. She drew strength in the Force from the Grand Master's presence, amplifying her already prodigious skills. The Ren would have to stop her, or they were both dead.

Meanwhile, the Grand Master observed Maestus, his face betraying no emotion. He knew that he now faced a foe who was his equal, if not his superior; he would have to be cautious, and to use every advantage. Suddenly, with terrifying swiftness, he reached out with the Force. All of the tall, ornately-carved wooden doors leading into the central chamber, each of them weighing hundreds of pounds, suddenly ripped free of their hinges. As one, they streaked toward the Maw Warlord, trying to crush her between them... or at least block her advance toward him. As soon as his attack was complete, he pivoted into a defensive stance, ready to intercept and redirect lightning.

 

[Zachariel Steelblood]

Objective: 1
Tags: Alars Keto​

As the Brotherhood and the defenders clashed, blood was spilled. Blaster bolts hit their targets, grenades exploded amongst the common soldiery, and generally the chaff died. But none but the chaff was focused on that battle, and even then, many of their number on both sides were focused wholly on the clash of epic proportions in the center of the room. Zachariel, Kryll, and the Chosen battled the Emperor and his Knights, with both sides not giving an inch of ground. Steel clashed against steel, shields blocked and swords swung, all while blood was shed and the elite fought and died for their lords.

This was the battle of the elites, the battle that would decide the fate of all present and the rest of the world. Every last one of them knew it and they fought all the harder for it. The Chosen roared their oaths of moments, swearing to spill blood in Zachariel's name. And the Knights roared their cries of devotion, strengthening their resolve and reminding themselves of what was at stake. Unfortunately for the defenders, the Knights were outnumbered by the Chosen, and outskilled by Kryll and Zachariel. Yet they fought on with bravery and tenacity regardless. At the same time, despite being outnumbered, two Knights attacked Kryll directly, trusting their brethren in protecting their flanks. Their belief was the same as the Brotherhoods, cut off the head and the body dies.

As a result, the two Knights targeting Kryll tag teamed, with one blocking and the other viciously attacking. That scene played out with all the other Knights, with them working in concert to protect one another and themselves. They would even take hits if it meant saving another of their number, or dealing a blow to one of the Chosen. Said Chosen were very different, mostly working as individual warriors, rather than a unified group. They did protect one another though, but not nearly as fanatically as the Knights. Instead they trusted their own prowess and that of their allies, alongside their armor, to protect them all. To a lesser extent, this also extended to Kryll, though he had yet to prove himself to them, at least in combat. But they also trusted their lord to make the right choices, which resulted in them giving Kryll the benefit of the doubt, and helping when possible. But he would need to prove himself fully to them.


While these battles raged, the center of the room housed another ferocious battle as well. At the center of it all a circle had formed, one around which the battle between Chosen and Knights raged. In the center of said circle fought Zachariel and the Emperor. Blades clashed and armor strained against blows. But there too the differences could be seen. The Emperor fought with controlled fury, fighting with all the training he'd had taken. His armor boosted his speed and prowess as well, allowing him to stand nearly even with Zachariel. The Warlord himself fought with his anger, letting fury and experience guide his weapons. He also took more hits than the Emperor did, but he also knew his armor could handle anything that hit it, meaning the blows he received were useless in his eyes.

Yet still he fought, giving his oaths of moments, promising retribution for the dead and dying. Zachariel simply laughed at the man, even as axe met sword once more. This retribution the Emperor so sought would never come. Pushing down on the Emperor's sword, Zachariel leaned in with dark intent. His voice was barely a whisper, but it dug into the Emperor's mind.
"Your kingdom dies with you today. Those that stand with you will die and the captured tortured. And you? You will die, but your shade will witness every atrocity I commit, your skull shall join the others and you will only be able to scream."

The Emperor screamed at that, a 'No' that echoed with his pain and anger. Ferociously he pushed back against Zachariel's axe, pushing Zachariel onto the back foot. He spun about then, sword flashing forward to dig deep into the center of Zachariel's stomach. For a moment he stood still, panting with breath, and then he noticed Zachariel didn't so much as flinch. The Warlord laughed at that, bringing his sword high to come cleave the Emperor in twain. At that, the Emperor's eyes widened in shock and horror, a million emotions passing through his eyes. And then it all came crashing to a halt as an explosion rocked the room.

Both the Emperor and Zachariel glanced up, watching as a hole was blown into the roof of the throne room. The Emperor shouted in joy, seeing new Knight forms leap down to join the frey. Zachariel instead snarled, moving to end this fight quickly and swinging down. But the Emperor had already let his blade go, leaping back as four knights landed between him and Zachariel. Now the Knights numbered a small amount more than the Chosen, but they had surrounded them and immediately sprung into combat. The two Kryll had been facing turned into four, as another pair moved to join whatever battle Kryll was embroiled in. They didn't care about the trappings of honor, instead only caring to bring down the leaders of the Brotherhood.

Zachariel himself snarled as the four knights before him lunged towards him. In one fluid motion, Zachariel pulled the blade out of his stomach, and in the next he lunged towards the knights as well, meeting them halfway. The discarded blade clattered to the floor, the noise drowned out by the clashing of steel once more. Zachariel engaged two of the Knights, sword and axe meeting the Knights weapons. But the other two didn't care for that, and went around him and struck out as well. And behind them all the Emperor was calmly grabbing another blade, eyes already wandering to view the battle around them. It was clear to Zachariel that the man either didn't plan on rejoining the frey, or had other plans and trusted his Knights in finishing the Warlord off.

That only prompted a roar from Zachariel, swirling about to bring himself some room.
"I WILL HAVE YOUR SKULLS!!! ONLY DEATH AWAITS YOU ALL. DEATH!!!" And then he lunged forward once more, this time holding nothing back. His fury had been stoked to new heights and the cowardice he witnessed would be punished. Already the Force was rushing out to meet two of the Knights, even as his blades swung to meet the other pair. And all that was heard from Zachariel was a wordless howl of rage, one that promised bloodshed and slaughter.

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Location: Meditation chamber
Allies: TK-818 The Mongrel Maestus


With each step only blood flowed from the path he walked. The undead Ren pushed forth with a savage furious org. His red blade cutting down anyone he could. Be it armed or unarmed it didn’t matter. For the Ren it was just a path that would lead to enlightenment. Death was not the end, just another path. For him, he had seen the fiery gates of hell, and emerged as something more. Maybe even less than what he once was. Of course that was how it was. The Force saw it fit to deny him any type of afterlife. So if he was denied hell he would simply create a new hell to rule in.


Sensing that his own Knights were in danger. He became focused on the threat. Someone strong in the Force, but nothing Kyrel had not already faced in the countless wars he waged. The Jedi and Sith he had encountered in his life. With his saber drawn he emerged into what looked to be a building of sorts. With the entrance of the Master of Ren with even the Sith Twi’Lek was doing her best. But that was not enough.

With a simple thought, Ren had managed to hold his enemy down with a stasis technique. A technique used by the most skilled of dark side practitioners. When he had his foe in a hold. He raised the crimson blade that fed dark energy to him, and at the same time fed from him in return.


With one thrust, his body launched into the air. With the crimson lightsaber raised to strike down the enemy that would not see the might of the Ren coming, and with such ferocity. The next move was an attempt of a downward slash that would bisect his foe in two. Pure rage flowing in his veins.

 

[Maestus]

She, in turn, studied the monk Grand Master. By all appearances, the man would pose little challenge. But one thing Maestus knew well. Appearances can be deceiving. To be the leader of all the monks, she knew he would be powerful, intelligent and quick. He wasted no time on his Sith opponent, sending several extremely heavy doors her direction.

She waited, purposefully. As the doors hurtled towards her, she held both hands out from each side of her body. Commanding the Dark Side, Maestus willed it to submit to her superior will. And it did. Suddenly, the doors all Slowed to a crawl.

Then Maestus lifted both arms high in the air. With a vicious yell, she brought them down. Utilizing Force Repulse, she launched the doors outwards from her. She knew she had brethren in the room. Collateral damage perhaps, but necessary at the moment. If the Master Monk wasn't put down quickly, the battle that would wage would be devastating.

One of the doors headed straight back at the Master Monk with alarming speed. She would see if the Master was as quick witted and powerful as she thought.

And then in stepped Kyrel Ren . She watched him use Stasis on the Master. Which honestly, would aid Maestus attack greatly, as the monk was now paralyzed. She paused ever so briefly, her curiosity and desire to see the Master Monk squashed under the door bringing her blood to a boiling point.

She truly paid the Master of Ren no mind. She knew little about the man or his group. And honestly, she did not care to learn more. In Maestus mind, the Ren were tools to be wielded and set upon their task. And should the tools become dull or break, as tools are want to do, they are disposed of. Violently, if need be. ​

​

 

[TK-818]

Objective 3: Pillage the Monastery
Location: Fangshi-Da Temple
Tags: The Mongrel


His shielded skull slammed against the thickened wall, bouncing against it's surface as he plummeted onto the flooring beneath. The Knight of Ren felt the warm scarlet liquid slowly ride alongside his face. Within his onyx mask he could feel the blood from a newly opened wound, a sign of being outclassed against such skilled prey. His fingers twitched within his static hand as he breathed deeply, pain shooting to different nerve centers throughout his body.

Sinh flipped slid his hand upward and pulled, attempting to support his weight with a slow but steady incline as he attempted to rise to his feet. He was a Knight of Ren, a servant of the Shadow and a powerful follower of the Ren. No he would not die here today, he would ensure that fate would not claim them, he could feel the anger bubble forth. A wave of rejuvenation seeping over his wounds with the sharp pain fueling his body, commanding it to function properly.

That's when he felt it. The hairs on his arm rising within his sleeves, his wicked gaze shifted off as the powerful Sith Maestus entered the fray. A Warlord of the MAW, a beckon of chaos, a vessel of darkness and hatred that stood in defiance of the Grand Master. Oh how the tables had turned. He slumped back down as his legs failed him, the armor bouncing from his body to the floor. He channeled what he could to keep pushing his physical form, he had to get back in the fight.

The Mongrel was ever resourceful, like a guardian angel sent by the Avatar of Rebirth herself, the dark marauder began to tend to the Knight of Ren with his medpac. A sharp pain jolted into his arm and soon a soothing feel followed as the bacta surged through his veins alongside adrenals that lifted him up immediately.

"Come, brother,"

"Yes."

Shocked by the aid, but not one to waste an opportunity for vengeance. The Knight of Ren seized the offered hand of the Mongrel and was brought to his feet once more, his body fresh and fueled. The Dark Side coursed through him alongside powerful agents that moved his physical form into action, he was back in the fight.

"Let's finish this."

Sinh gave his ally a curt nod and turned to face their enemy as she began her immediate charge, fists at the ready. Augmented by the supreme power of the Force and the Grand Master's very presence, the next blow would be a killing one from the master monk. He could not allow that to happen. Dropping to one knee as the monk came to a close, he forced both hands forward giving all his hatred and anger over into a massive shockwave of Force energy as the empyrean pulsed forward with immense force at close range.

He would not give any reprieve to his opponent, knowing full well what he and the Mongrel had seen. The Knight of Ren immediately pressed the attack, augmenting his own body and with a slight of hand, summoning his poled weapon back to him.

It was time for the monk to die. That's when it hit him again.

"Master?!"

The Grand Master was quickly dispatched by the duo, so it seemed at least. Appearances were often deceiving especially for ones such as these crafty devils. Kyrel Ren and Maestus stood eye to eye in the aftermath as Sinh continued his attack.

No quarter, do or die.

 

[Alars Keto]

The battle was fierce and fulfilling, no quarter was given, no mercy displayed. The enemy knew this was their last stand and chose to die in glorious battle. Kryll swung covered in brilliant crimson, waves of bodies crashed around him in a chaotic sea of violence as the Brotherhood made their move to dispose of the weak Emperor from Tiantang forever more.

The Chosen swore out dark prayers to their Warlord and idol, utterances of the mighty name of Zachariel Steelblood flocked to his ears from the very lips of armored warriors without remorse. Kryll, momentarily distracted and awed by the zealous loyalty of the Chosen only noticed the moving strike of the two flanking knights that came to oppose him at the last moment. Narrowly avoiding death's embrace, the marauder lieutenant met sword for sword in a parry of blows as each came at him. One blocked for counter moves from the lieutenant while the other knight pressed the attack, a strategy that soon was mimicked across the battle.

He felt a shield slam into his face, blood spurted from his lips as he recoiled from the impact.

Taking a few steps back he slammed his foot downward as the second came in immediately to take advantage, as they should. A fallen knight's blade rose upward into his free hand and soon the marauder began a flurry of his own against the ill prepared knight who for a brief second was now separated. A whirlwind of blows came to, crashing against the armor and following through with an attempted heavy handed swing for the neckline. The sweet spot.

Heads would roll. That was the plan.

An explosion rocked the room, the battle between the Emperor and Steelblood had begun to pick up in it's earnest. A hole in the roof opened, new knights reinforcing the Emperor's lineup. Unexceptable. The two he fought now became four, and the desperation of the situation only increased more. Something had to give soon.

Deflecting blow for blow, the crafty killer threw kicks, blows to the head. Anything he could to get the upperhand.

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Fangshi-Da Temple, Meditation Chamber
Tags: TK-818 | Maestus | Kyrel Ren

TK-818 rose, his strength restored, his hatred unabated. It was the final moment for this battle. As Maestus and the Grand Master circled each other, preparing for the clash that would decide the monastery's fate, the Knight of Ren found his feet... and lashed out with his dark magic. His pain and fury only amplified his power, and this time, it was too much for the last of the Master monks to withstand. The shockwave slammed her against the far wall of the chamber, driving the breath from her lungs; blood leaked from her scalp where she'd hit the polished wood. That much, she might have recovered from... but the dark warrior was already in motion again.

The Mongrel watched in satisfied awe as Sinh called his polearm back to his hand, lunged forward, and ran the monk clean through; she was pinned to the edge of the chamber like a collector's valued insect. A little gasp went through her, and then she was still, the last of her fellows. Now alone against three, the Grand Master would be hard-pressed. He gathered his strength, ready to defend himself... just as Kyrel Ren burst into the room. The Master of Ren wasted no time in lashing out with his magic, wrapping invisible chains around the last of the Fangshi Order. Then he stormed forward, toward the victim caught between him and the Warlord of the Chosen.

As the crimson blade descended, the Grand Master was calm. He shut his eyes, acceptance crossing his features; he knew that, while the time of the Fangshi had passed, The Way would endure. When the lightsaber completed its arc, it cut through empty robes as they fell to the ground. Of the Grand Master, or his corpse, there was no sign... but a soft wind blew through the chamber, gently rattling the paper windows. It was the only serene sound in the entire complex. Everything else was screams, gunfire, and crackling flames. These would soon die down, however. The Fangshi-Da Temple had fallen, its monks massacred to the last. All that remained was to seize its riches.

Withdrawing a second medpack, The Mongrel began to see to his own wounds. He had suffered far worse, though his hand would take some time to heal. That was the most important injury to treat; he would need to be ready to wield a weapon when their next conquest, a reach all the way across Chiss space, began to unfold. Otherwise, he hung back. He did not need magic to sense the tension filling the meditation chamber, tension between Maestus and Kyrel Ren, two predators that had been circling the same prey. This was the way of the Brotherhood, all its members constantly striving for greater glory. Perhaps it would tear them all apart some day.

For now, their hunger for conquest only made them stronger.

 

[Zachariel Steelblood]

Objective 1
Tags: Alars Keto​

They fought, on and on, blood being spilled and tempers rising in concert with the cries of the dead and dying. The Chosen of Zachariel fought like men possessed, but they were also individualistic, while the knights worked in concert. But sheer weight of numbers and general skill bore the knights down, until they gained reinforcements. The new knights were fresh for battle and all too eager to get vengeance for their dead and to protect their Emperor. As a result, the battle Kryll faced was played out a dozen times around him, with Chosen fighting ferociously against the knights, but gaining no ground. Some of the Chosen even fell, dead or dying even as the rest continued to fight. But the knights died as well, falling to the superior Chosen.

Of the original two Kryll had faced, one had died to his flurry of attacks, falling before the sudden onslaught. The two new reinforcements had still launched into battle, eager to take down such a mighty leader. But it was useless, as Kryll was craftier than they could ever hope to be. Still, the Chosen were on the back foot, and that included Kryll. Zachariel knew this, as he too was being pushed back by the four knights. Sure they couldn't stand for long against him, but they didn't need to. When he focused on one, another would immediately attack, forcing him to hold the attack. Before this hadn't been a problem, as it had just been him versus them, and Kryll part ways through. Here though, here his Chosen were about him and he had less room to maneuver.

Snarling, Zachariel called out to his Chosen and Kryll.
"To me my warriors, we end this now!"

The Chosen surged to Zachariel, forming into a circle with him at one edge, with an extra spot left for Kryll to fill. They leveled weapons to the outside knights and pushed back, giving them a seconds reprieve. It was all Zachariel needed. With a snarl he slammed his fist into the ground, giving out a powerful Force pull. It bubbled out and towards all the knights, pulling them from their backfoot all the way forward, straight into the blades of the Chosen. So sudden was the change few had the chance to adjust, and a third of their number was cut down in the violent assault that followed. Amongst them were the three knights facing Kryll, cut down to two, one having lost his life to Kryll. The remaining two were severely wounded though, easy prey, but still they would fight.

Around the both of them the other Chosen fought as well, cutting into their opponents with howls of fury. They pushed out then, charging into the lines of the knights, who were just now recovering. All this happened in mere moments, and it increased the bloodshed. The knights that had challenged Zachariel were halved, both by his own actions and the actions of two Chosen by his side, having aided their master in the confusion. And all of this gave Zachariel his opportunity. He pushed forward with a burst of Force speed, slamming through a knight and leaping up and towards the Emperor.

Said man lifted his sword to block the attack, grimacing behind his helm as he did. Before it would've worked, when they first began to fight it would've held. But this was different, Zachariel was so consumed by rage that it added to his strength, and he was getting more than his fill of the Dark Side at the same time. This amplified his already inhuman strength thrice over, even as he roared his rage at the Emperor. Zachariel slammed down, sword smashing against sword, and then shattering the Emperors blade. He had no chance to react, as Zachariel's axe was already soaring forth to bury deep into the neck of the Emperor.

With barely any resistance, Zachariel's axe was buried deep into the neck and chest of the Emperor, even as his sword came about to stab into his body as well. The Emperor gasped at that, breath leaving him as he was lifted up by the two weapons still in him. With a howl, one straight from the depths of the Nether, Zachariel ripped his weapons free, splitting the Emperor in twain. The Dark Side of the Force swelled at the gory display, assaulting the defenders and reinvigorating the Brotherhoods warriors. There was no more hope for the defenders, and only glory awaited the Brotherhood now. More and more of the defenders fell, faster than before, even the knights died more easily, for they had no purpose anymore. And Zachariel simply howled his rage and declared his power, both with a mindless, echoing scream, even as the Dark Side swirled about him.
"DEATH!!!!!!!"

​

 

[Rebirth]

This was the end, the close of the story of Tiantang's fall.

The Brotherhood of the Maw had been swift, brutal, and effective in its assault on the distant planet. With the Emperor dead, the palace captured, and the Fangshi Order wiped out, every last vestige of the Jin Dynasty had been erased. The rampages of the Kagan-Jin hordes, now united under the Brotherhood banner, soon pillaged the remaining cities that had been under the Tianese Empire's control - just as they had done with Guangzhuishan. Plunder flooded the vaults of the Maw, and the raiding fleet left far heavier-laden than they had arrived. Their crews had grown, as well, for they were filled with Kagan-Jin marauders eager to plunder new worlds. Their bloody horizons had been expanded.

In this way, the conquest of Tiantang had been the best kind of victory for the Brotherhood - one that left them with more troops than they had begun with. They would need all the soldiers they could gather for their coming incursions into Chiss space, and the Kagan-Jin came ready-made, without the necessity of breaking them into slave-soldiers. For a while they would cling to their identities as part of the horde they'd come from... but in time those old lives would fade away, and they would become one with the tribes of the Brotherhood. Most would die on battlefields far from home. Some would become champions, or even warlords, and rise in glory before the Avatars.

As for the planet itself, it now belonged to the Maw. Its rolling plains and pristine bamboo forests would become the sites of resource extraction and war materiel production, fueling the fires of the Brotherhood's next conquest. A warlord would take power here, one that would organize the planet to his or her whim, until it became the heart of that warlord's tribe... but ultimately everything would contribute to the strength of the Maw as a whole. The entire system would become a jumping-off point for the coming invasions, with vast fleets passing through on their way to sink like a fan of knives into the tender flesh of the Chiss Ascendancy. Then there would be fire, blood, and plunder.

One more world fallen before the Maw. One more world to fuel the end of the cycle.

​