Every Which Way but Ruusan (Techno Union Dominion of Ruusan)

[Placeholder 01]

4/20

Objective: Purge

[member="Laman Ress"], [member="Kiro Masahide"]

A commlink?

Delam rose to his full height and slammed another blaster pack into his rifle. In truth, he had expected nothing by the way of communications on these men. The spine - what he had chosen to call the mountain range they now stood upon - was a remote place. If they had come here, it was for the sake of secrecy. In that vein, he had assumed they would be intelligent enough to hide whatever forms of communication in a secure place.

It seemed that was incorrect. More's the pity.

"Good eyes Captain," Delam complemented as he yanked the comm from his brother's hand. He gave the thing a once-over and scowled. It was still active. He rounded about to bark his orders when an unfamiliar figure appeared.

Delam knew his men well. He recognized the exotic armor they wore, the way they moved, their mannerisms, their voices - this was not one of them.

"Prepare the men captain. We will charge the outpost - but you, warrior," he frowned, "I did not pick you for this operation. What is your name?"

 

[Verona Chroi]

1/20
BYOO

She listened carefully to the whispers of the dead, and the ghosts of Ruusan were screaming lately. The planet had been tainted by the Sith eons ago with dark magic and now that wound called to like in others. It was no surprise that a new group of darksiders had thought to capitalize on the festering miasma in order to power their work. The dead did not rest peacefully here.

The disturbance might have drawn her attention but as she had learned once she arrived on the surface, there was much more here to be concerned with than a cabal of spellweavers who sought to borrow power beyond their ken in order to achieve their goal. The spirits would see they failed. However, death rode the wind.

Fresh death.

There was conflict and battle here.

That was a far more worthy focus of her time and efforts. She headed towards a mountainous ridge, where the sounds of weapons fire sounded through the valley below.

Soon.

 

[Darth Eversor]

2/20

Objective: Slay

[member="Laman Ress"]

Satsujin-sha simply stared at [member="Delam Mairev"], not uttering a word. It wasn't like he could in the first place, being a mute and all. The reason for the unknown soldier being among this company of men wasn't meant to be confidential or shady by any means despite the appearance and unorthodox introduction. He was simply acting on orders just as they did, and even had a visit to their home-world. Disgusted by the Sith and their inevitable decay into history, the Atrisian sought something different. And the planet of Zenith Prime was the catalyst for change. A much needed one at that.

The former Imperial simply reached into his coat and relinquished dog-tags, holding them out to the man. Hanging from the chain, the two slabs of metal alloy chimed against one another, the Imperial logo somewhat defaced from the tags.

What would these soldiers think of the stranger if they had seen those marks? Satsujin was about to find out.

 

[Placeholder 01]

5/20

Objective: Shenanigans

[member="Kiro Masahide"], [member="Verona Chroi"], [member="Laman Ress"]

Dalem handed the comm unit off to one of his men. He was no expert on the technology - ordinance was more to his expertise. The soldier took it with a silent nod and moved on up the mountain range. The spice outpost was not particularly far; that likely being the reason for the ambush just a few moments ago. The fiends within were aware of their presence, and were likely preparing to make an escape. The airspace was already choked up by Techno Union ships. They would have to move on the ground if they wished to escape. The legion would need to move quickly.

With that thought in mind, Delam observed the tag. A moment of examination was met with realization, a brief look into the stranger's visor, and a nod. He, like Delam, was here to prove himself.

"On then," he grumbled, wheeling about on his heel, "It's a short march."

The march across the mountain was uneventful. The warriors, numbering a little over a dozen, could see the outpost just over a the next ridge when one of the men came to a halt and shouted. Delam jogged over to see what it was that gave him pause.

The younger man held a woman at gunpoint. The woman was a thing of beauty, clad in exotic clothing that might have been durasteel as much as it might have cloth. Delam was unperturbed.

"You need to vacate the area," it wasn't a suggestion. "There will be blood here soon. See to it that none of it is yours."

 

[Verona Chroi]

2/20
BYOO

She eyed the one who held the blaster on her but they slid over to the one who demanded she leave. She stood with a halberd curled into her shoulder, her arm draped around it lovingly. It looked like a magna staff, except for the shining blade on the top. She cocked her head over, her helmet looking more like a piece from some strange tribal fantasy story, adorned with teeth, feathers, and bone.

"You come for the poisoners..." she trailed off as she looked up the slope in the direction of the spicer den. "Our paths lay together for this battle."

She rolled the staff of the weapon down her arm to her gauntleted fingers, and gripped it tightly as she turned and began to continue her march up the slope.

The caw of a harbinger sounded from the trees. The time was nigh.

"You carry justice with you. Come to mete it out to those who would spew filth on the mortal coil." She looked back to the leader, her black lips and dark kohl around her eyes making them stand out starkly against her pale face.

[member="Delam Mairev"] [member="Kiro Masahide"]

 

[Darth Eversor]

3/20

Objective: Huntin' da spice

The darkly clad figure raised his rifle towards the man holding the woman at gunpoint with full intent to dispense a bolt into his skull. However, it would seem that this was becoming more a social gathering of quite the mixed variety. The woman before them spoke of a common goal, but who was she to trust? She saw justice within them, but justice was a word that Satsujin did not include in his vocabulary. The very definition of a word can be altered and formatted to whatever an individual's standards may be. And for the Atrisian, justice was decimating the weak and incompetent with extreme prejudice. Those that came to be an obstacle must be re-purposed for the afterlife, no matter the cost. Honor above all, dominance over the defiant.

Deciding the damsel in distress wasn't worth his time, Satsujin-sha carried onward to accomplish the goal at hand.

Kill.

[member="Verona Chroi"], [member="Delam Mairev"], [member="Laman Ress"]

 

[Placeholder 01]

6/20

Delam almost clocked the black-clad soldier. How dare he raise a weapon against one of the legion's warriors? The stranger ended up saving himself the trouble by deciding to march on forward. Grumbling a curse under his breath, Delam nodded toward the man that had found the woman. Weapons were lowered, and the soldier went on his way.

Delam tuned his private comm to Captain [member="Laman Ress"]. "Watch the woman. She claims to be on our side, but if she causes problems, I expect you to be the solution." He didn't wait for a reply.

"You're one of the natives?" He asked as they trudged on toward the outpost. Just a few more paces now. He parted his lips to speak further, but the boom of an anti-tank rifle halted his words. The man that had held the odd woman at gunpoint lay flat across the ground, his breastplate shattered. One of the combat medics dragged him down behind one of the trees and began shouting for cover.


Delam obliged.

The outpost was a two story building crafted from twisted iron and draped with various banners for the purpose of decoration. A number of the spice fiends - mercenaries from what Delam could tell, lined the roof. A half dozen stood behind sandbags near the main doors. Not terribly well-defended, but not easily taken either.

Delam found himself a position behind one of the larger rocks a few meters away from the doors. Blaster bolts pelted his shields every time he rose up, but each time, his shacklebolt rained death upon the unclean. Twice he rose, and each time, a defender fell.

"We're pinned here! Someone take care of the men on the roof!"

[member="Verona Chroi"], [member="Kiro Masahide"]

 

[Darth Eversor]

4/20

Having witnessed one of the Legion's demise, Satsujin-sha broke into a sprint and slide over to a rock with his pauldron slamming into it. Dust and small flakes of debris from the environment picked up into a scene of chaos as gunfire rained. These spice dealers had the strategic advantage with their higher ground, but the darkly clad stranger had something else in mind that could potentially turn the tide. He reached for his vest and produced a thermal detonator, priming it and then partially revealing himself from cover to get a good idea of where he wanted it to go. The defenders at the main entrance seemed to be the ideal victims.

Lobbing the detonator, Satsujin-sha went back into cover, waiting for the moment to come.

A roaring explosion would shake the area briefly, it would seem there was collateral damage as well. Warped metal from barrels and ammo caches jutted out of the ground and out of the bodies of these vermin. That still didn't excuse the pestilence raining hellfire from the roof. Charging out from cover to distract the hostiles, Satsujin unleashed a torrent of suppressing fire as he moved closer, or at least to a decent vantage point. They needed to be flanked, and that's just what the mute warrior intended to do.

Of course, they all saw the darkly clad self-assumed point-man coming.

A couple of the mercenaries blasted at the invader as he sat in cover behind a tree, splinters and chunks of bark covering the moist earth beneath Satsujin-sha's greaves. Now was the moment to prove to [member="Delam Mairev"] and the others that he meant business and wasn't just here to be a nuisance.

Falling out of cover once more, the once Imperial agent laid down a heavy stream of firepower. Slug after slug ripping into the men, their bodies convulsing after each round's initial shock and stopping power. Their blaster bolts only glanced off of the lone wolf, or so the legions of Zenith Prime would assume him to be. They probably wouldn't value the sentiment of something akin to themselves trying to display high-risk tactics. Such things are typically frowned upon as both a liability and mission compromise. Dishonorable discharge? Probably not. Getting chewed out? Definitely.

The banners and nature of this place only stood as a testament to the low-lives that inhabited it. Their filthy blood being put to better use, not to mention how beneficial it would be for smaller governments and houses. Credits are credits, and once bills are paid and mouths are fed, it all dies down to a hush. At least this is how certain operations were handled by some of the Imperial Intelligence. Distraint was an amusing thing, and those that cannot earn a wage were better off dead or used as labor workers.

Perhaps it was better for everyone else that Satsujin-sha couldn't speak, otherwise someone would have probably put a bolt in his dome.

[member="Verona Chroi"], [member="Laman Ress"]

 

[Verona Chroi]

3/20
BYOO

Native? No, there was nothing native about her to this place except the twin connections to the force and the beyond. She would have related that to the brusk commander but the air was split by the sounds of fire and all the warriors scrambled for cover. When the entrance erupted in an explosion at the fore, Verona took her cue. She moved in a blur, and with a leap she had landed on the roof lightly, her attention on the couple left who rained fire on the lower position.

Their hail of slugs and bolts could not catch her as she swung the ends of the halberd at her foes. The blunt end caught one in the gut, the axe embedded in the skull of another. A shower of red bathed her steel and with the aid of unseen powers, she sent the one gut punched flying backwards hard into a tall, thick tree trunk.

Jumping down near the front door, she planted the halberd into the soil with a firm slam, drawing a long metal cylinder from her waist.

"Deliverance is nigh."

[member="Kiro Masahide"] [member="Delam Mairev"]

 

[Laman Ress]

4/20
Objective: Clear roof.
Laman quickly took cover as the fighting began, keeping a close eye on [member="Verona Chroi"], as the high lord had ordered. She was an interesting one at that, but she seemed to be able to hold herself in a fight. This made Laman somewhat less confident in his ability to contain her should she turn on them, but increased his confidence in the fight should she stay on one side. Laman quickly noticed a man charging from behind the woman. Laman acted quickly and fired a round into the man's head, he dropped on the spot. Laman moved up to a concrete barrier up ahead, only about 50 feet from the building, but chest high, making it perfect for cover.

Laman quickly grabbed one of his thermal detonators and threw one up to the roof of the building in order to clean out some of them, and he assisted the grenade with a volley of fire from his slugthrower attempting to suppress them into cover, which would increase the effectiveness of the thrown grenade.

The grenade landed right on the spot, detonating killing a few of the people on the roof, lowering the amount of suppressing fire that could come from the roof, he would have to rely on the others to take them out for him.

[member="Kiro Masahide"]
[member="Delam Mairev"]

 

[Placeholder 01]

7/20

The woman was a warrior.

Delam shouted a cry of pride as he charged the doors. The Captain and the shadowed one - of whom Delam was growing less suspicious with every moment - had cleared out the roof of the building. The various sniper, gunners, and grenadiers had been torn apart by allied fire. The legion could not be stopped. Delam arrived at the doors a moment later, driving his broadsword deep into the chest of one of its defenders. The man slumped back, his midriff bisected entirely by the cortosis-weave blade.

"...You may stay with us," Delam mumbled to the strange woman, a hint of good humor in his voice. A moment later, the earth shook. Legion soldiers had blown the doors inward via explosives. Blaster fire erupted through the smokey opening.

Delam wasted no time in sheathing his blade and marching forward. His shields took the brunt of the enemy fire, and his shacklebolt rifle cut down anyone foolish enough to step out of cover.

The inside of the facility was a dirty place. There was little of note save for a few consoles, overturned sofas, and broken tables. That, and the various fiend defenders within.

"Captain, nameless one," Delam roared into the comms, "Breach through the top floor!"

 

[Tyberius Fel]

Aelius Varangian hardly knew how he found himself on this miserable den of dark sided taint and madness. His Second Emperor... what his name? Mephirium. Yes, that was it. The Dark Lord fell at his blade, Coruscant consumed by the hymn of 501st Legion boots. And yet, he fell. He fell and it was no one's fault but the lowly Royal Guard who had now failed two Emperors. But before Mephirium's commlink cut off, he spoke of a Black Imperium. Yet another Empire to fight. It was tempting for Aelius to take his own life, remove himself from this whirling galaxy of madness and be reunited with those lost. But that would be weakness, defeat.
And thus, Aelius found himself upon another forsaken battlefield, his force pike tearing through flesh and bone like paper alike. There was no thrill, no hate.. merely a empty hearted slaughter.

 

[Laman Ress]

5/20
Objective: Breach roof

Laman heeded the commands of the high lord and immediately threw up a line to the roof, and attached the hook on his belt to it. He climbed up the roof with a small group of men about 3-4, these would be more than enough to take out the entire building he reckoned, though he had many more than this. He had one of the demolitions experts place charges onto the roof in order to bust in, they would burst in and would immedietly start clearing whatever room they busted into, and search the area for information, hopefully this would be good enough.

The demolitions experts were done placing the charges, and on his mark he would order them to blow.

3....
2....
1....

"Mark!" He said.

The charges blew and Laman immediately tossed a flashbang into the room below, he turned away and plugged his ears to prevent any negative effects. He then jumped down into the room which appeared to be a conference room with multiple men in business suits inside, his men killed them mercilessly.

Laman quickly grabbed the briefcase one of them was carrying and had his men quickly search them for any information. Then he heard footsteps and immedietly took cover behind the door, some heavily armed men were running down the hallway to the conference room, and they definitely were not friendly.
[member="Delam Mairev"]
[member="Verona Chroi"]
[member="Kiro Masahide"]

 

[Verona Chroi]

4/20

Verona fell in behind the armored man, the heavy weighted cylinder in her hand. He was taking fire from the front but his shield kept him protected. They had gotten part way into the complex when she felt a tingle pulling on her senses and the whisper of a dying man. She immediately split off from the narrow column of men pressing into the building and headed for what looked like a storeroom.

Her gut feeling was correct as a spicer came for her as she entered the room, rushing her from a corner. She drove the hilt in her hand into his neck and he cried out in pain before the brilliant violet blade was ignited and the telltale thrum of a lightsaber severed him in twain.

She flashed a look back at the main room but instead kicked through a door in the back of the storeroom into what looked like a garage stacked with crates that no doubt contained their foul concoctions. Verona slammed a stack of them with a force push and sent them careening at a hidden gunman who was not hidden well enough.

 

[Darth Eversor]

5/20

The mercenaries and spice dealers were dying off, good. Another wasted assembly of bones crunching beneath the greaves of the silent one. The order given by [member="Delam Mairev"] was received loud and clear, and into the fray was where Satsujin-sha charged once again. Following the Captain up to the roof, he watched as they set up for the breach. The people inside this building were about to become witnesses to a force unwavering to pleas or tears. Family was not a concern, rights were not a concern. They were all targets; and for this very reason they shall all have a gruesome end. Discrimination heavily implied.

As soon as the countdown began, Satsujin-sha holstered his rifle and unsheathed a rather menacing war-sword used by a notorious Sith monstrosity known as Abraxas. Blackened and stained with the blood of past victims, the blade gave off a strange sensation. An aura as it were, pulsating and breathing with an unyielding darkness. It was hungry for fresh corpses.

Jumping down after the flashbang, the silent one crashed into the room like a hammer, impaling one of the businessmen through the face and out the back of his head.

These poor souls all looked dreadfully dissatisfied. Mouths agape in terror, another of the men was struck down by the hellish instrument. A tool so twisted and foul by the death it has brought upon many innocents. The former Sith would be proud of this demonstration. Crimson painted the walls in streaks and spatters, the slaughter ensued once more upon those most unfortunate.

Looking towards the door, Satsujin-sha readied himself for what was next to come.

Death to the defiant, the impure.

Long live the Black Imperium.

[member="Verona Chroi"], [member="Laman Ress"],

 

[Placeholder 01]

Delam stood amidst a sea of red.

During the assault, only a small handful of Legion warriors had been wounded. None so far as he knew had been killed. None of the spice fiends still breathed. They had either been torn apart by the Legion's blades or gunned down by their blasters - in the case of the woman's victims, bisected via lightsaber. Delam narrowed his eyes at the energy blade in the woman's hands, though he did not voice his concerns.

He had never been the biggest fan of those who used the force.

"Cleared," he boomed as he clipped his rifle to its place on his back and removed his helmet. He ran a gauntleted hand through his hair and wiped some of the sweat from his brow. It hadn't been a glorious battle, but it was entirely necessary.

He wasted no time in marching toward one of the terminals. It was unprotected - the fiends had been sloppy. He ran through records from recent months and - "What?"

The High Lord scowled. "Governor Charim? This is...unexpected." He scowled. "Destroy whatever concoctions you might find and prepare for redeployment. We'll be jumping to another world."

Shaking his head, Delam strode toward [member="Verona Chroi"].

"What is your name woman?"

 

[Laman Ress]

Laman quickly started laying down large amounts of fire into the hallway, one of the two men died quickly, the other got hit in the kneecap and fell to the floor. Laman walked up to the one who was still alive, and kneeled down to him.

"Where do you get your equipment?" Laman Asked

"Dressel." The man said coughing up blood.

"You chose wisely, i know many fates that are worse than death." Laman replied.

Laman shot the man in the head. There are many fates worse than death, many ways to make people suffer so terribly they wished they had just been humanely executed, such pain and torment that they will be scarred for life and unable to function in society, unable to get back to a normal life. That man was one of the lucky ones.

Laman walked down the stairwell and met up with the High Lord, he had a lot to report on, and they would need to get this briefcase opened back at the legion fleet, it would be imperative.

"High lord, we found this briefcase, i do not know what is in it, but whatever it is, it is probably very important." Laman said.

[member="Delam Mairev"]
[member="Kiro Masahide"]
[member="Verona Chroi"]

 

[Darth Eversor]

6/20

The silent one followed behind [member="Laman Ress"], bloodied sword still in hand. Droplets marked each step down the stairwell, leaving behind some sort of memento of the slaughter that took place here. The aura of death hanging heavy in the air, one could inhale and taste iron. Blood.

These defenders would not be remembered, their lives had gone to a shameful waste. It is this such example that would educate the recruits of the Legion on how business was handled. Without hesitation, efficiently, and with extreme force. Damned were those that would bring the Legion's wrath upon themselves. Those that give lessons in fear and death, the harbingers of final solutions.

Satsujin-sha stood next to the Captain, still silent and with a blood drenched blade in his right gauntlet.

Victory was theirs.

[member="Laman Ress"]
[member="Delam Mairev"]
[member="Verona Chroi"]

 

[Verona Chroi]

5/20

"Verona." She answered simply, the saber stowed away in her gear once more and her halberd in her right hand. She watched them fan out and clear the building, but she stayed in front of the one who commanded. His broad shoulders carried more than just a dearth of armor on them, he carried the burdens of a galaxy that had seen the line between right and wrong skewed. There were great intentions in his eyes.

She inhaled and listened to the silence around them all, the veil was drawn back and the voices of the newly dead were moaning as they were carried across the nether into darkness. These would get no rights, they would have no rituals. Just the eternity of decay into the mountains they used to camouflage their wickedness.

"If you seek to root out this sickness, I wish to aid you." She sounded strange, but her blue eyes were heavy with purpose and determination.

 

[Placeholder 01]

Another piece of evidence? Delam took the briefcase from the Captain with a grateful nod. Laman had ever-been a useful warrior back on Zenith Prime. It seemed the man's eye for the important things had not faded with time. The High Lord examined the case for a moment, frowned, and handed it off to one of his warriors. His men would examine it once they returned to the fleet.

"Good find Captain," the frown deepened, "I'm worried that our allies may not be as they seem." Delam shook his head and turned back to the woman. Green eyes met blues. He searched them for a time, taking a moment to actually look at her now that no one was trying to kill them. She looked far wilder than any of the women on Zenith Prime, but then most of those women had been soldiers.

This one was a mystic.

"Very well," he replied quietly, "We move to find the source of this corruption - this taint." He turned to the Captain and the silent one. "Prepare the men. We leave immediately - and someone find the swordsman a neural implant. If he cannot speak with words, then let him speak with his mind."