Diplomacy Heart of Darkness | BotM Capital Crowning of Exegol

[The Messenger]

A prolonged sonic boom, no a gutteral roar from the depths of the red mist that veiled a hidden danger beyond comprehension. As it was harassed by the warships gathered, an almost overwhelming psychic assault crashed against it’s primal psyche. Reverberations of pain and anguish were flooded back as well as an almost unnatural aggression that would backlash at the would-be tormentors. The power of the Dark Side rippled the mind of the beast, it’s imposing will crumbling moment by moment as ripples of backlash struck back, it was a taxing endeavor to tame such a monster and it would not go down without a fight for the ages.

Emeging from the red nebula, the mighty Summa Verminoth came with a ravenous hunger and predatory glare. Opening its maw wide, multiple tentacles reached out to begin swatting away vessels, wrapping around the largest to be devoured. It’s lone eye then fixated immediately upon the approaching Gehinnom..

Fjendar Alcademon | Zachariel Steelblood | Tu'teggacha | @everyone​

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Gehinnom, Maintenance Tunnels
Tags: Open

Deep within the bowels of Gehinnom, The Mongrel and his little warband were among the few who did not witness the emergence of the titanic Summa Verminoth. They were distracted by a different threat, one far more elusive than the massive spaceborne beast. Water dripped around them, steam hissed, and coolant bubbled. Their radiation sensors beeped ominously as they descended further into the maintenance levels, amid massive engines and thrumming reactors. They were like tiny parasites worming their way past the Holy City's organs. Or perhaps they were the worldcraft's antibodies...

... and their prey was the infesting parasite.

It wasn't long before they came across the first of the slaughtered work crews. They found them at a junction of catwalks where two huge passageways met. Turbines and circuitry thrummed all around them, making it impossible to converse over the tumult... but there was little need to say anything. The slaves had been ripped apart, their severed limbs thrown from the walkway and strewn across the wiring far below. The Mongrel examined the wounds, deep lacerations surely caused by claws and teeth. They were looking for an animal, or animals, of some kind, that much he could say with certainty.

It would have to be a smart and resilient creature.

With hand signals - for no one could hear anything - The Mongrel indicated the way he believed the creature had gone. It wasn't difficult to track; a crimson trail of gore led further down the catwalk, perhaps dribbled from a slavering maw as it chewed its last morsel of flesh. The trail led around a corner, then between two giant power couplings, before it vanished... but that wasn't much of a setback. Although the ambient radiation here made life form scanner readings all but worthless, the Heathen Priests that The Mongrel had brought with him didn't need technology to track a living being down here.

The two tall, gaunt clerics turned to each other, holding some invisible conversation through their magic. Then they turned back to the marauder leader and nodded. One raised a skinny arm to point down a nearby hallway. Clearly, they had drawn close enough to the creature to track it, whatever it was. They would have to proceed with caution; they had no idea of the size or capabilities of whatever this thing was. They knew only that it had slipped through from the Netherworld, leaping through the weakened boundaries of reality to make this place its hunting ground. Or so it thought, soon to be corrected.

The Mongrel smiled. These were his hunting grounds now.

 

[Romund Sro]

Tags: Maestus Lord Letifer

​

For the time being Romund stood a little a part of the rest, he didn't necessarily want to draw attention to himself but it's very possible that's what he was doing in a fairly passive way. These suspicions were seemingly confirmed as his one eye darted over to a pair of Sith. Who seemed to take noticed of him. It made Romund a little worried, not sure if they saw him as some kind of unwelcomed guest here on these sacred Sith grounds.

Not wanting to seem like a rude guest here at a clearly very important event. The individual on the throne going on seeming about their galactic ambitions for this group of Sith. Romund feared many powerful and influential Sith may not have heard this saying, or have not cared for it's warnings. "Take the throne to act, and the throne acts upon you." Sure Romund wanted power like everyone else, but he was wary, as he did not want to become a slave to the power he wields.

Walking up to the duo, one of which seemed to be one of those fabled red twi'leks. The other appeared to be a masked and robed man. As he got close he gave a charming, yet superficial smile to the pair before placing his hand over his chest and giving the two a polite bow. "My apologies if I'm intruding, but I take it either of you have some authority here. I wish to get acquainted." His single eye darted some back and fourth between the Twi'lek and masked man. His other eye being covered by a eyepatch with a Sith Rune engraved on it.

 

[Dakrul]

I hear you brothers and sister… ahh I hear your screams. Dakrul will find you. The darkness will set you free.

Deep inside the celestial floating castle of the Maw, in a lightless chamber, they sat in prayer.

A hulking bond of flesh, metal, and occult magic Dakrul the faceless hunger keeled in a runic circle. Around him, hooded heathen priests chanted in the ancient langue of the Sith.

They were attempting to cross into the Nether. The mutations bound soul was to be cast out onto a spiritual journey into the realm of the dead. To return to a place it had been ripped away from. Reborn into this lifeless husk a part of him had remained. Had stayed with his kind in the hellish landscape of the Chaos. To burn, again and again, fire and flames for eternity. He would reunite his shattered self.

As the chanting grew louder, a vacuum formed. The room seemed to swell, the very air they breathed pulsated as their rhythmic incantation echoed on and on.

Blue fire erupted over the creature in their midst as if poured from an invisible pitcher. Over his masked head, across his shoulder, and past his chest onto his four arms and lastly his flanks before spreading to the ground having fully engulfed the Cha’ta’ri.

Unflinching the massive undead was deeply invoked in meditation. Now baptized by the blue flames the energy within was freed.

In his mind's eye, the darkened chamber disappears, instead hell now laid before him. A pitch-black skyless welkin as the backdrop to ragged cliff-like erosions that spiked out of the red earth. Between the stony ridges, lava flows all the way to the horizon illuminating the daunting terrain in a menacing colour.

The Sithspwan ignored all of this, not because he hadn't awed in its sight before but for the great pile that littered the land, mountains of bodies, millions of stacked corpses. They were Cha’ta’ri, his brothers and sister that had perished throughout the ages. But they were not truly dead, instead scrambling with their multitude of arms, begging and pleading. Tortured in this timeless prison, praying to be released off this misery. They were so terribly hungry, starved since the moment they all arrived.

Finally, after all this struggle the Faceless Hunger had made it back to this wretched place. Five years had passed and the number of corpses had grown since. A massive landfill off his brethren cursed by a treacherous pact that was formed with the Sith many many centuries ago.

He roared out into the endless night. Even without eyes, he could see the colours and shapes so very clearly. He would lead his tribe once again. He would herald great feasts to satisfy their endless hunger. To nurture their instinctive gluttony. To reign over the land of the dead.

He bent back a mouthless voice booming forth, “COME TO ME”

Carcasses began to shuffle, a horrid mash of eyes, hands, arms, and claws. They rose again. Moaning, screaming, and shrieking one after the other began crawling and limping towards the figure.

“Offer your souls, pledge them to the Maw, let Darkul carry them into lifeeeee, let… us… FEAST”

Back in the stone halls of the Gehinnom the blue flames were still burning, the huge figure entirely engulfed. An azure avatar of fire. But the chanting suddenly fell silent. Their souls of those casting were now a wager.

With a sudden massive eruption, the entire room was set ablaze. It lasted only seconds and was then replaced by the pleadings of the Mawites now too engulfed in flames. Unlike the undead giant, they were quite vocal about their fate. One by one their mortal bodies collapsed and their screams faded as the pyre that killed them burned their shells to bones and dust

And their suffering did not there, instead, they or at least what they believed to be themselves would awaken in the same horrid pits into which they had transported Dakrul.

“WAHAHAHAAH…” a peal of terrible laughter, laughter out of a throat that was never intended to make such a sound.

“Welcome…. “ the rotting towering creature before them ushered.

His undead kin threw themselves at the confused monks.

Their very souls were shredded and ripped apart never to find their way back to a whole form. Torn apart, eaten by a hundred mouths. Spirits lost forever in the bellies of the dead.

As this was happening one of the many Cha'ta'ri limped towards the self-crowned Heathen Priest. Dakrul knew who it was before the foul shell had fully approached him. This was his former self, the creature he had been in life, or whatever had been left behind in his past visit.

It wanted to return, it knew it was meant to be one part of something else. The Zealot Maw lifted his bloated extremities and with a swift motion cast of the veil of twisted metal. His shorter off-hands grasped the creature before him and as he pulled it close into a grotesque hug he sank his toothless orifice into it.

He would make himself whole again.

Dakrul returned to the chamber, a sudden hissing extinguishing the flames that had allowed him to travel between space and time.

Newfound power coursed through his bloodless veins. His small contribution to the great plan completed. He was ready to serve his masters.

He could hear the cheers from the higher levels.

The ceremony must be underway, he should join his creators.

 

[Marlon Sularen]

EXEGOL , UNKNOWN REGIONS
Within the Underground Shipyards...

"Marvelous work Grand Overseer, with the shipyards soon to be restored our fleet resources will triple if not quadruple in abundance. We will need to harvest more of the galaxy’s young, upgrade our indoctrination programs, maybe even begin cloning procedures beyond the.. distasteful use the engineers within Gehinnom use them for.. the Moon Children."

"Thank you , Admiral and yes indeed we will require more manpower to maintain such a Force. While harvesting some of the Galaxy's Young would be a good move especially to create a next generation of loyal soldiers it is imperative that we concentrate our resources for our upcoming Conquest of the Core. Perhaps Cloning procedures would be best. Already i have Secret Cloning Facilities within the Deep Core which can help boost such endeavor far away from the reach of these Marauders"

“Shall I mark an assassination order? Do tell sir who would be responsible for such actions?”

"An assassination order is to risky at this time unfortunately. As for who we are talking about , the name is Julius Haskler. From what i know he is an Exiled Noble from Anaxes and the New Imperial Moff of Yinchorr , according to my sources he is the descendant of a certain Kraig Haskler although there are no other sources from outside Haskler's little cabal that indicates that such individual existed. Nevertheless this Julius Haskler and his followers made a previous attempt to capture me during an Expedition i conducted on Sharb and have already been in contact with two of my main allies in the Core Worlds : Grand Moff Vel'alari of Bilbringi and Captain Kenth Berik of the Adjudicators Mercenary Company , whom i wish to recruit into the Final Dawn to boost our efforts."

As Sularen spoke to Admiral Garrick however a third individual arrived at the Platform in which Sularen and Garrick stood upon , with the former quickly recognizing him as Hayden Stahl. Hayden Stahl first came to Sularen's attention as a Commodore of the Risen Empire , an Imperial Faction which had previously attempted to conquer O'reen and establish themselves there causing a confrontation with Marlon Sularen who himself had plans to settle down on O'reen after his dishonorable discharge from the New Imperial Armada on the eve of the New Imperial Order's Invasion of Bastion. Other then that Sularen had little knowledge of Hayden Stahl's activities but to see him here along with the Final Dawn did bring a smile to his face as yet again , the Final Dawn continued to expand.

"It's only a matter of time...before Byss is once again a thriving world of the Empire, along with the entirety of the galaxy"

"Indeed Mister Stahl. Once our Fleets are ready we will descend onto the Core and devastate the Galactic Alliance in a Campaign that will soon dwarf the Third Imperial Civil War in intensity and scale. In the meantime , me and Admiral Garrick were discussing about the potential threats we might face such as Moff Julius Haskler and his followers whom have been interrupting my own plans to establish a strong network in the Core Worlds to prepare the people of the Core for our inevitable arrival with their own plans to re-establish themselves in the Core Worlds. What do you think about Julius Haskler , Mister Stahl?"

Tag | Aldo Garrick | Hayden Stahl
​

 

[Darth Vinaze]

DECLARATION
Darth Solipsis | Maestus | Romund Sro | Lord Letifer | Astrea | Kyrel Ren
​

He was finally home. Home for a rest. The civil war had costed him so much. His values... his power... his life... people he trusted, even if trust was a fool notion. But that was the cost of salvation. The prophecy said not that a chosen one would transform the Sith, giving mercy to the ones who corrupted it and weakened it. No... the prophecy said the Sith would be destroyed. And here they lay in ruins. Empires shattered, would be claimants to the mantle of God-Emperor gone, heretical faiths squashed. There was now but one Sith Order: The New Sith Order.

The apparition that was Darth Vinaze materialized beside the Dark Lord's throne. He was weary, tired... the Netherworld called to him. But before he could rest he was needed. For so long now he had chased one thing, through varying allegiances and crises of both faith and ideology: the one who would fulfill the prophecy again. He had seen it in fractured visions from the Force, knowing this day was coming. He'd witnessed many visions in the very room where they stood, kneeling at the old throne of Sidious. Now he stood along side the throne's new occupant, with the masses gathered at their feet to see and hear the glory of the new Dark Lord of the Sith.

Vinaze stepped forth, calling out through the Force to those gathered in attendance. His voice boomed through their minds,

"We have convened here to today to witness a historic event!

The restored throne of the Sith has it's newest ruler,

one who has achieved what the weak nations of the galaxy thought impossible!

After 2000 years, the mighty Darth Bane has found a worthy successor. The Sith have been weak, corrupted by opulence, complacency, and fantasy. But no more!

I have traveled to the ancient sites of our people to learnt their knowledge, seeking to find the coming Sith'ari. In recent years I have believed many to be the one who would fulfill the prophecy, but I have finally found the truth!

He has brought ruin and destruction to the galaxy, to the Sith! And from those ashes, we WILL grow stronger! We WILL rise to greater heights!

Darth Solipsis is our Dark Lord, our saviour..."

Vinaze raised his outstretched ghostly arms above the crowd,

"THE SITH'ARI!"


​

 

[Dakrul]

Objective: The Throne​

Striding through the holy halls of the Gehinnom the faceless creature knew its route and destination well. He was technically raised here, in these sunless depths. Taught in the language and the beliefs of the Maw, honored to be presented with their invaluable teaching. A chosen being gifted with the truth. Rosen to the sacred rank of Zealot Priest.

Wrapped in iron guards and a long leather cape he ascended onto the surface as the tumult and uproar on the higher levels grow louder and louder.

While the Mawites that followed him saw the compilation of metal and stone that formed these sacred tunnels Dakrul “saw” something entirely different. To him the world was fire, and the living were fiends. Skinless demon spawn or beings of shadows and darkness. For the Cha'ta'ri did not see, he only sensed. A being living but dead existing in two planes at once, and now with a soul united his fate was sealed.

He was a mistake in the cosmos, crafted by alchemy and magic, a mixture of curses and biology.

The higher he climbed the stronger it became. There was a power so potent, so intense present today. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced. A living nightmare of dark force energy. He was eager to stand in its presence, witness its might, glance at its beauty.

A few times he had to stop. He simply could not continue, not without really taking it in. His Nepthalem accomplices only perceived the ever spiral stairs, but to the Faceless Hunger before him laid a feast. Manifested energies in which he could nourish himself, saturate in the darkness. Grow heavy from its weight. Grow more powerful with every gulp. To gnaw at the essence of creation. Something mortals could not fathom.

With time the small group of priests arrived in the rebuild throne hall.

The sheer size of Dakrul stood out as he placed himself near the back of one of the entrances. He was here to indulge, to witness godhood.

He too would hear Darth Vinaze words echo in his mind, and he shivered as they did. An excruciating pleasure.

An auditorium filled with devils of all shapes and sizes, pulsating with dark side energies as if the heartbeat of this holy city.

His masters would rule the galaxy, it was a truth he could see before him. Cosmic bodies ablaze, millions and billions of souls to feed his kin and a balance created just like the three Avatars demanded. His rotten bloated flesh twitches from euphoria.

In life as in death, their wishes would be bis command. Their vision his goals, his aspiration.

Let me serveeee…

 

[Zachariel Steelblood]

Objective: Get a new ride
Weapons: Sword | Axe
Tags: The Messenger | Fjendar Alcademon | Tu'teggacha​

With his might focused on the beast, both in the material and immaterial realm, Zachariel felt and saw it all. This creature was in pain from their attacks, in anguish at the might before it, but unbowed by either. Even as Tu'teggacha added his strength to Zachariel's own, Zachariel merely laughed and drank deeply of it all, never letting up his prodding which soon turned into an assault. But this only served to amplify the beasts pain and aggression, even as it lashed out in an uncontrolled manner. Though uncontrolled, it made up for it with sheer mass.

But this simply caused Zachariel to breath deeper of the Dark Side, to breath in this pain and anguish from the creature. He reveled in such things daily, seeing as part of his expertise was inflicting pain and anguish on his victims. And what he couldn't absorb he pushed off on to others, whether some latent Force users aboard his ship or the Gehinnom, or to the Taskmaster himself. Whatever happened to the thralls mattered little, so long as they absorbed what he couldn't. As for Tu'teggacha, Zachariel was confident the being would survive as well, as he also drank deep of such things. Together the pair could no doubt bring this creature to heel, though it would take time.

Though the creature roared its hatred to them all, Zachariel simply grinned at it. Even as it struck out at those about it, Zachariel simply grinned. Then, with a snarl in the Force, Zachariel jabbed at the creature with the Dark Side. He wanted the creature to focus on him, to lose track of everything else and bow before his might. And as he jabbed at it again, Zachariel laughed through the Force, telling the creature plainly how much its pain and suffering amused him, and how much more he would inflict upon it.

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Location: Gehinnom, Traversing Red Honeycomb Zone
Tags: Zachariel Steelblood

The terrifying bulk of the Summa Verminoth drifted out of the red haze, its lone eye fixed on the puny intruders that had entered its domain. Across Gehinnom countless priests, marauders, and slaves alike fell to their knees in fervent prayer - for what could such a titanic creature, a living engine of mass destruction, possibly be if not a manifestation of the Three Avatars? This was a challenge sent to them by their shadowed gods, a test of their worthiness to reach the holy seat of the Dark Side. If they succeeded, they would receive the Avatars' blessing. If they failed, they would be crushed and devoured.

The Taskmaster, sweat beading on his bulbous brow, hardly noticed.

During the raid on Felucia, in the depths of the forbidden rancor graveyard, Tu'teggacha had come face to face with an ancient bull rancor, a creature of primal ferocity and power. It had taken every bit of his mind-warping strength - and no small amount of help from several other wielders of the Force - to hold the creature back from ripping him and every last one of his escorts apart in seconds, and to finally bring the beast down. The Ebruchi was confident of his ability to break anyone over time in his dungeons, any person who fell into his clutches, but beasts were different. Their minds were different.

This creature was as distant from the rancor as the rancor had been from an ordinary sentient. The rancor had been old, as old as the jungle's trees... but the Summa Verminoth was ancient, the kind of being that had seen stars die. What were they but insects, microbes even, before the purity of its eternal hunger? But that was defeatist thinking, and could not be permitted. The Brotherhood was an engine of change and renewal. Its entire purpose was to kill the past and tear down the old ways, to sow the fields of the galaxy with ash and make way for new growth. Ancient did not mean permanent, not to them.

And the creature could feel pain. Tu'teggacha sensed it, so much agony, as Zachariel intensified his telepathic assault. It was too much for any one man to bear, and spilled over from him like wine overflowing a goblet, falling heavily upon those around him as he shed it to preserve his own soul. The weight of it slammed against the Taskmaster, and while the pain was delicious, intensifying his powers and flooding his mind was ecstasy, it soon began to overwhelm him as well. So he shed it, flinging the excess away like a wet animal shaking its coat, letting the crushing weight of unbearable power fall upon others.

He had to, lest the draw of it consume his very soul.

Across Gehinnom, men and women sensitive to the Force collapsed, writhing in torment. Some bled freely from the nose, ears, eyes, and lips, unable to contain or expel a power that was too great for their minds to handle. The roaring of the Verminoth echoed on and on in their brains, driving out reason and thought and sanity. But this was the only way. Tu'teggacha knew it to be true. They did not have the firepower to destroy this eternal being, and if they did not force it into submission - or at least keep it at bay - it would surely tear the holy city itself apart. So he renewed his efforts, pouring himself into the attack.

They would succeed, or they would die in the attempt. The die was cast.

 

[Aldo Garrick]

R E B I R T H

Operation: FINAL DAWN
Tags: Marlon Sularen | Hayden Stahl​

The Neo-Imperial scoffed, he did not know this individual the Grand Overseer spoke of but knew too well the stakes. The Final Dawn was growing, their followers spreading across the galaxy as the Brotherhood plundered and butchered everything that came in their way. The Supreme Ruler’s plans were coming to fruition and soon a new dawn would truly rise over the galaxy.

Sularen seemed to believe organizing a kill order would be too risky, he did not voice his disagreement but acknowledged the will of his superior and stayed his opinion. When the offer of cloning came up, the Sith Cultist nodded in approval with a thought of his own.

“The flash training methods would come in handy, especially if taken from genetically superior stock. The problem lies in with timing, a clone army takes time and resources as does harvesting… mandatory conscripts and forced indoctrination seems to be the quickest method but the results less than satisfactory. Allow me to consult the scientists on Denon within the South Branch of Epoch Engineering. With enough resources I’m sure we can find a suitable solution to this problem.”

 

[Maestus]

Maestus had followed Lord Letifer gaze, over to Romund Sro . She let her eyes rest on him heavily. She studied him for a long time. Weighing him. Judging him. She was pleased when he came over to them. To her, it showed a certain confidence that he would need were he to survive.

I am Lord Maestus. Warlord of Crakull, and student to the Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Solipsis . You seem vaguely familiar, have we met before? This She motioned to Lord Letifer is Letifer. Tell me, what brings you here? You are not one of the Maw's rank and file. Perhaps you are more?

It was just about that time, that Darth Solipsis and his yellow orbs floated, one hovering abover her head. She studied it a long moment before looking to her Master. As Darth Vinaze proclaimed Solipsis the Sith'Ari, Maestus had mixed thoughts. On one hand, she supported this claim. Solipsis had definitely done more in a few short years for the Sith as a whole than any of the self proclaimed emperors have done in decades.

On the other hand, she hated him. She hated them all. They were all competition. How else could she view them? And Darth Solipsis was at the top of the list. Maestus knew she still had much to learn, and Solipsis could teach her. So she needed to keep him around for a while. Once she learned all she could, she would remove him from power.

There was also the matter of Kyrel Ren . He was her biggest competitor. He was also an enigma to her. He was strong in the Dark Side, but in a way different than the Sith. She'd heard of his misguided thought process that the Ren were superior to the Sith. That made him dangerous. Perhaps even unpredictable. She would have to move cautiously with that one.

She took a deep breath, and set an impassive expression on her face. No need to show her hand this early in the game. She was anything if not patient.

 

[Romund Sro]

Maestus Lord Letifer

Romund listened to her reply, nodding along to her words. Listening to her tell her name and of the man with her. "A pleasure to meet you Lady Maestus, and you as well Lord Letifer. So it would seem my intuition was right, if you're a student of Darth Solipsis you are clearly no ordinary Sith. My name is Romund, Romund Sro." He didn't use his Sith title, he hardly ever used it. Especially now as he found himself disloyal to the code. "I was a lesser lord, a Baron you could say of the Warlords of the Sith. It's possible that's why I may seem familiar to you. I'm sure you're well aware of the collapsing factions in that region. Fortunately I've been able to maintain control and ownership of my humble fiefdom thanks to it's unique qualities."

In hindsight it was rather clever to have his little base of operations be mobile. Meant he didn't need to bunker down as hard as the ensuing power vacuum would've destroyed him. So he was able to avoid that and maintain his assets.

"Now, what brings me here is rather simple. I just wish to come to a mutual partnership with the maw. I could see though how that may seem a little arrogant for me, a mere individual. But I come with said fiefdom and all if can offer the maw. Of course details wouldn't need to be worked out now."

 

[The Messenger]

Anything that stood between the Great Beast and it's prey were sundered, broken, if not devoured by the all consuming Summa-Verminoth. The psychic assault of the powerful warlord Zachariel Steelblood and the dark Taskmaster himself Tu'teggacha continued in a dramatic game of tug-o-war. The pair wisely forced onto others their excess negative energies flowing from the pain and torment of the massive beast, the psychic backlash would spread onto others as they redirected the enemy creature's efforts. The primal will drove those unfortunate souls to the brink of insanity, lashing at their minds until they began drooling groveling wretches.

The great Summa-Verminoth writhed in agony as it shattered a nearby corvette from the assaulting maruader fleet, it's greatest survival instincts kicked in even as it felt itself begin to buckle under the intense weight arrayed against it. The ancient mass of tenticles and fanged maw rode the black sea of stars, coasting along the void as fighters crumbled upon meeting it's iron hide. The beast strode closer and closer until it came face to face with Gehinnom, capital ships began to immediately open fire. Crucifix class I's prepping their precision weaponry and charging autocannons in case of a clear shot. The great Holy City was in danger, the Avatars tested them this day and would see their worth..

As it wrapped it's massive appendages around the surface of the mighty worldcraft, latching onto it's surface it began to close it's eye, fighting a losing battle with it's consciousness.

Zachariel Steelblood | Tu'teggacha​

 

[Dakrul]

Objective: Sail across red space

Tags: Tu'teggacha Zachariel Steelblood The Messenger

​

At first, he simply could not "see" it, his senses overwhelmed in the presence of gods. But then he felt it. From one moment to the next the fabric of the force grew thorns. Instinctively he raised his four three-fingered appendages and stood in awe as the energy tendrils that normally nestled them all in its natural gravity were now entirely twisted and wrangled. Clutching with an ever tighter grip, choking out their very essence.

Lifting his mighty hide he slowly began to understand the sheer size of it, his Nephalems had collapsed around him, as if in the holds of a serpent. Their life energies bleeding out of their pores.

And not just them.

He needed to get further to the surface. His masters could make use of him right now.

His giant form exited the holy halls.

He was sprinting. The colossus of metal and flesh hurtling through the tunnels and corridors trying to reach higher levels. He barely ever went this far up. Most of his existence had been spent much much deeper inside the floating city.

Then like an earthquake something shook the ground, the walls, the entire metropolis.

How?

Continuing his advance he passed priests and marauders kneeling down in prayers, others clearly afflicted, squirming in pain.

And as he hastened towards the surface he too could suddenly see. Or more so it had been there all along, he just hadn't grasped the sheer size. It could have very well been the background to all life on this vessel. But it was alive itself, holding onto the entirety of the world craft, it was at war with them, it was glorious, beautiful.

His massive digits snatched a Mawite running past him, the hulking zealot easily lifting the human and pressing him against one of the many windows that decorated the upper floors.

"What do you seeeeeeee" he hissed directly into the mind of the warrior.

Panicked and confused tears running down his face he yelled out "It... its... I don't... there's a monster. It's so big, by the avatars it will kill us all"

A wretched chuckle erupted from the faceless creature. He was so glad to be reborn, so glad to witness what so few could. For a short second, he envied the creature for its vision. As he too stared out into the void he saw it as well, if not different. To him, it was just more fire, no skin, no bones, no flesh just fire.

But now so close to the happening he could observe the flow of the force in much more detail, a connection upheld by creatures inside the vessel were tormenting the beast outside. The effect that he was witnessing onboard was the overflow that was passed on by the attackers.

He needed to serve his masters. It was his calling. As a creature whose fate was so closely tied to the channeling of the force he knew he could be of aid. Dakrul reached out, a quiet whisper directs towards the mind of the taskmaster "Let me serveeee".

With that, he began to breathe in the energies around him, like swelling lungs pulling in air. Normally a passive trait to constantly feed himself with just enough living fore to maintain his immortal shell he now purposefully drew in more. As much as he could from all those that had been affected by the overspill. Saturating in the pain and agony he let it seep deep into his insides, here where his accursed heart of darkness beat and the Cha'ta'ri hunger laid.

The result was a concentrated potent aura of dark side energy. The Faceless Hunger wielded that very aura into shape and form, like a blacksmith sculpting metal into place he manifested and directed the power back to the two attacking entities, they would need the force to guide them, keep them strong and focused.

Pulling and pushing, pulling and pushing. Breathing in and out like a living generator helping sustain their saviors in this hour of peril.

 

[Zachariel Steelblood]

Objective: Get a new ride
Weapons: Sword | Axe
Tags: The Messenger | Fjendar Alcademon | Tu'teggacha | Dakrul​

Power, more than he had felt in a long time, flowd through Zachariel. So much so that he had to force it on to others, so much so that those others then died. One of those others he passed the excess power onto was Tu'teggacha, who was smart enough to redirect the excess as well. A good thing too, lest the beast overwhelm the both of them. This mighty tug of war continued on and on, a true struggle as the beast attempted to fight them off. But they wouldn't be so easily dissuaded, Zachariel himself wouldn't simply let the creature go.

This struggle went on and on, time was lost to Zachariel in this struggle, but at some point he did feel power flow towards him. Though hesitant, Zachariel eventually partook of this energy once it was confirmed to be 'clean.' He drank deep of the despair of the creature, and then drank deep of the feedback coming back from Gehinnom and whoever was directing this flow. This flow then went towards the Summa-Verminoth, amplified and directed to force the creatures fears and pain to grow evermore. It all made Zachariel's grin grow wider with madness, even as the beast neared them and their capital city.

Zachariel didn't care as ships exploded all around, nor as fighters spun about and engaged. He didn't bother to note the heavy fire hitting the great beast, instead focusing on its pain. Even as its eye slowly closed, struggly against the inevitable, even as its tentacles wrapped around the 'Holy City', Zachariel simply kept his attack going. It was so close, well within striking distance, but still his crew knew their jobs and brought them even closer, despite their terror. Cackling madly, both in the Force and in the void, Zachariel eyed the great beast up. A call went out and fire was diverted somewhat, though Zachariel cared little if it stopped or not.

With a great roar, Zachariel suddenly leapt forward, off the prow of his ship. What few had recognized was where Zachariel was, fewer still could realize his plan before it was too late. He had stood atop the prow of his ship, at the very forefront and out in the void of space. There he had watched and communicated it all, communed with the Force as well. All for this singular moment. The mad grin never left Zachariel's face as he crashed against the surface of the Summa-Verminoth, directly under its eye.

He had launched himself forward with his full strength, augmented by his armor and the Force. This had brought him there nigh instantly, and now he climbed directly before the eye of the great beast. As its consciousness slowly faded out, Zachariel forced its gaze down. Away from the world city of the Gehinnom, away from the battle that even now raged. He brought the focus of the beast solely upon himself, even as he stood before its eye. Though he was tiny compared to the beast, through the use of the Force and all that had happened so far, Zachariel would appear as a threat to bow before.

Attempting to force the creatures consciousness away and lull it into sleep, Zachariel still glared at its lone eye with malice. The eyes of his skull helm blazed blood red in the void, even as he attempted to make himself grow in the mind of the Summa-Verminoth. Zachariel intended to have the beast bow and submit before him, to fade from reality with its last thoughts on the one who had brought it low. And the entire time, Zachariel's mad grin never left his face, mad thoughts continued to race through his mind, and his assault never let up, but rather intensified with all the new power.

Let the beast be brought to slumber and remember its new master.

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Location: Gehinnom, Traversing Red Honeycomb Zone
Tags: Zachariel Steelblood | The Messenger | Dakrul

There were, at that moment, two nearly-separate parts of the Taskmaster. One was the reluctant fleet admiral, thrust into the position of managing logistics and commanding capital ships, and that one was greatly aggrieved. It had taken so long since Csilla to even begin to rebuild the Brotherhood fleet, and now this creature was tearing through ships effortlessly, sending all the fruits of their long, hard labors spilling out into the void. Worse, the creature had reached Gehinnom itself, wrapping its tentacles around the Holy City in a deadly embrace. Metal superstructures began to crumble beneath its terrible strength.

The other, greater part of Tu'teggacha, however, was far too immersed in his mystical struggle to notice or care. Never had he channeled so much energy, so much rage and pain. It was too much of a good thing, like a child making himself sick by eating too many sweets... if the sweets were being force-fed to him, a hose filled with chocolate stuffed down his throat, filling him until he burst. Desperately the Ebruchi shed more and more energy, redirecting it anywhere he could. He could feel the dark power overwhelming mind after mind, until he began to despair that the whole of Gehinnom could not contain such power.

But then a voice whispered across his mind: "Let me serveeee." The Taskmaster knew that voice, knew that presence. It was the twisted Sithspawn known as Dakrul , whom they called the Faceless Hunger. Without eyes or tongue or even sensation to guide him, he was a withered creature, a dry sponge waiting to drink in the Living Force... and when he did, when his half-dead flesh was bathed in the power of the Dark Side, he could see and speak and destroy with twisted, terrifying efficiency. He was perfect for this moment, a being that might be able to hold the vast waves of suffering that were overpowering them.

"Serve, then," Tu'teggacha replied through the Force. "Drink your fill from this well of hate and pain." And the Faceless Hunger did. The Taskmaster could feel the creature pulling in the powerful overflow of the Summa Verminoth's mind, drawing in so much emotion, so much more energy than the Ebruchi could have held without sundering his own mind. Nor did he merely contain the power. No, the sithspawn forged it, shaped it like a potter shapes clay, made it useful and sent it back to his allies. Tu'teggacha felt the gifted energy suffusing him, strengthening his attack, and he intensified his mental assault.

They were utterly committed now. They would subdue the beast, or Gehinnom would fall...

 

[Maestus]

She listened patiently as Romund Sro introduced himself. And wasting no time, explained why he was here. She nodded once as she took it in.

Explain two things to me, Romund. What do you want from the Brotherhood of the Maw, and second, what do you have to offer us?

She was no fool. Nothing came without a cost. She was mostly interested in what this self proclaimed "Lesser Lord" had in mind. She was not above manipulating him or anyone, or anything, to her advantage, as she'd been doing. Subtlety was king.

She glanced back to Darth Solipsis and then to Darth Vinaze . Since proclaiming Solipsis Sith'Ari, the eerie one had been silent. As had the majority of the Sith in attendance. She wondered if this proclamation would be supported. What's more, she wondered how the galaxy would take the news. Her mind worked as several machinations began to form.

 

[Rebirth]

Oyokal, Western Chiss Space
Ascendancy Aquaculture Colony
​

In the wake of Csilla's destruction, the Chiss Ascendancy was left reeling, with many of its greatest leaders dead. Most of the 26 colony systems looked to their own defense, with the various Chiss Ruling Houses pulling back to watch over their individual territories. For while the Brotherhood of the Maw never actually annexed Ascendancy space, its marauders raided Chiss planets without mercy, seizing slaves, food, military supplies, and general plunder. Rentor, Jamiron, and Cioral were all struck by Brotherhood attacks in months that followed, and the people of Chiss space were left wondering who would be next. That question would be answered all too soon.

As the Brotherhood moved its capital to Exegol, engaging in massive celebrations in honor of the Dark Voice's many victories, a need arose for fresh sacrifices. Only blood could truly christen the ancient Sith planet as the Brotherhood's new home, and only blood spilled in copious amounts. And so the raiding fleet descended on the nearby planet of Oyokal, a simple colony at the very edge of Chiss space. Most of the locals were fishermen or algae farmers, their produce providing much-needed variety to the diets of citizens across the Ascendancy. Seizing some of this food for the great feasts on Exegol would certainly be a boon to the Brotherhood, but that wasn't the point.

The point was the people, to take them as sacrifices to the glory of the Maw.

Although it was hardly a major planet of the Ascendancy, Oyokal was not undefended. It was not far from Kinoss, a major depot for the Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet, and the seat of the influential House Vesnam. With trade routes and supply lines breaking down after the Mawite raids and the Csillan hyperspace disaster, food from Oyokal became key to Kinoss's survival, and Vesnam forces protected it well. A CEDF detachment of warships waits in orbit, determined to defend the sea farmers below from the depredations of the Brotherhood of the Maw. Little do they know that the Mawites would have it no other way; marauders like to see enemies with a little backbone.

Go forth, break the Chiss defenders in orbit and on the ground, and seize captives for sacrifice.

​

 

[DARKCOM]

DARK LORD OF THE SITH | VOICE OF THE MAW
Sith Citadel, Exegol

//Power//

​

The conjured apparition led the Master of Ren from the platform as it touched down into the thunderous chasm of statues. Sith Lords from an ancient past, monuments commemorating the legacy of the very thing Kyrel Ren despised. As far as they eye could see the darkened veil was saturated in rows of enormous depictions of these long dead Dark Lords. Sadow, Sissiri, Locphet, Mindran.. all expired over millennia before his birth, yet their whispers lingered. Hushed tones and dark thoughts crept into the mind of the mighty Kyrel Ren , the lone image of DARKCOM did not falter in acknowledgement nor did he seemingly hear the sinister voices.

After a long trek through the depths of the Citadel, a laboratory came into view. Bubbling vats filled with experiments, ancient equipment long abandoned and set to work by the new management along with imported goods from Gehinnom and cloning technology brought from those lowest of levels that had long been the origin of the Brotherhood’s most vile works.

“You’ve exceeded all expectation, and yet.. you only see part of the picture.”

The old man stopped, shifting his gaze back to the Master of Ren with a sinister glare. He rose his freehand calmly and let it fall, a telekinetic command that opened the vats before the duo, spilling forth Nephilim, mute sithspawn giants. The Dark Lord’s eyes quickly moved to an adjacent table where a subject laid in silence watching with a familiar face and a familiar garb. With a flick of his wrist the subject was freed, the Strandcast let loose as it rose to it’s own feet with a sinister scowl.

“You are the Maw’s champion.. they could be too, if you fall here and now.”

 

[Darth Thonrin]

War.

It was the galaxies one true unifying force. For some, it was the single purpose that drove them forward. A need to unravel that which has been created, destroy that which has been built. For others, it is a desire to avoid war. A pressing need to live a peaceful life, and protect those who cannot defend themselves. War has guided the hand to the galaxy far more often than peace ever did, and every major event can be traced in one way or another to a war started long before any of the current wars combatants were ever born. Every Jedi and Sith that fought and died this day did so because of the original war started between the two cults. Every soldier fighting for the beliefs of a Republic, an Empire, or some variation of the two did so because others had laid the groundwork for their deaths.

In such a galaxy, with such a storied history of war, were the Brotherhood of the Maw truly so terrible? Other nations had destroyed planets, other nations had devastated entire species, and other nations would do so again. In this way, Darth Thonrin thought, the Brotherhood of the Maw were not so terrible. They were simply ahead of the galaxy this time around.

The tall Sith stood at the moment overlooking a Chiss village, the rock outcropping he had chosen to use as his viewpoint standing nearly half a kilometer into the air. Light rain fell over the region, and Thonrin idly felt the small droplets striking his helmet, could see them rolling down the glasteel that covered his eyes, and soaking the dark robe that he wore. The bottom of the robe seemed to vanish, appearing as nothing more than a cloud of smoke around the Sith's feet, disturbed by the falling rain every few moments before reforming. Spread out across the rocks around Thonrin, wearing armor of a muted grey with red leather beneath were the Broken Knights(WIP), the personal guard and warriors for Darth Thonrin.

While Brotherhood of Maw forces engaged the Chiss defenders in orbit, Thonrin had taken one of the New Sith Orders stealth transports to Oyokal ahead of the fleet. He had landed in secret, with a single goal in mind. Sow havoc and destruction, fear and terror among the populace of the world. In doing so, he would in theory divert the defenders away from the main assault of the Mawite forces, allowing them to break through that much quicker. The faster victory was achieved on Oyokal, the sooner Thonrin would be able to travel to Exogol in person. He had originally intended to go straight to the Sith Citadel and greet the Dark Lord, but news of the Brotherhoods assault on the world had drawn him away, and given him a new goal. Bring prisoners back to the Dark Lord.

Because, in all honesty, no home christening would be complete without gifts, would it?