Dominion In the Shadow of Doom | NIO Dominion of Diab

[Trajan Fett]

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// MANCATCHER //
// OBJECTIVE // OPERATION GOD SLAYER
// FOCUS // Lucien Dooku | Whispers of Annihilation

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Trajan kneeled down by the corpse of the beast, propping his ion-disruptor on its butt stock with a hand wrapped around the heat-sink'd barrel of the gun as he peered over the creature.

"Sithspawn...alright." Trajan offered with his characteristically placid inflection on his voice, with the sound of the saber beaming to life he almost seemed to jump at the all too familiar noise, seeming to associate it with an oncoming fight at the very least. Glancing toward the ignited saber he peered over the blue blade, half expecting Dooku to be wielding a crimson saber not too dissimilar to...every other force user that accompanied them into the Prism.

"Where'd you get that?" Trajan asked offhandedly. Before he rose back to his feet, wielding his disruptor carbine in both hands he eventually turned to lead the pair down the nearest corridor, the blast door sliding open with a metallic hiss only for the Mandalorian to be slammed back with force emanating from the hand of a robed figure.

With power strong enough to slam the Mando to the ground he let out a low grunt of pain before the figured followed after in a slow, foreboding gait. Pulling the metallic hilt of its lightsaber from its robes it flicked it on with its characteristic pssssht - the crimson prismatic blade glowing in stark contrast to the Prince's own weapon.

"You really think you'd make it out of here with anything? We've been on your tail, Imperials...or rather...mercenaries it seems." The Sith knight remarks - his voice tinged with otherworldly distortion before he surged forward toward Lucien with a downward cut of its saber all the while Trajan clamored to his feet.

 

[Gat Tambor]

"OWEREREREEEERRRRR- So...pathetic." Gat Tambor said, after incinerating the boarder before he eventually began to trounce further down the corridor where he happened upon a line of stormtroopers set behind cover in a loud and hectic exchange of blaster fire with boarding Sith cultists. The loud power armored servos served to announce the Skakoan's presence to all around when it surged into the exchange.

Terrifying. Spotting a Cultist warlord at the head of a formation with a saber drawn, the Skakoan drew his own blade from the mounted saber gauntlet on the left arm of his power armor. In an otherworldly sight the blade ignited in ever changing color from its rainbow gem replacement for a kyber crystal within the saber. Though the Sith might've outmatched the Skakoan in ability and training, the Tyrant Of Trade tipped the scales swiftly in his favor with raw, untamed power surging through his form. When the Sith sought to send a surge of lightning through his finger tips he found there to be a weak crackle in its wake before the darkside golden gaze of the man lit up and widened in terror. With his utterly terrifying voice he surged out the large cybernetic power claw to grasp ahold of the man's skull before wrenching him up from the ground and toward the helmeted atmospheric gaze of the Skakoan.

"You've gotten a lot farther than you should have...but then you haven't met Gat Tambor either...your ride's over, Sithie. Time to die." The IGBC banker says before he crushes the man's skull within the cybernetic claw, sending it 'popping' and killing the man instantly in a pink mist as he let the Sith Knight's corpse drop to the floor.

 

[Jekadius Lawson]

Glowstick? Law had rather limited experience with non-force users since leaving the mountain hideout that had been his home and the individuals there had been more careful with their choice of words. Yet it mattered little, the Codex had already warned that in combat communication could become unorthodox. This was perhaps not the most useful train of thought while charging into a mass of worms trying to overrun allies but discipline was key in any military organization so the debating the question helped Law find his center.

Running down the hallway Law leaped a meter before reaching the pinned troupers, knees curling to his check so not to clip the head of anyone in his long jump. He reached out to the force. It was always there but like hot water after you've been in a bath for a long time, easy to forget. For him though gathering the force was like trying to carry the water out with a hand, so much waste. Regardless Law released the energy he managed to accumulate into a force push only knocking a worm a meter and a half back but enough space to let him land.

The blue blade ignited from his saber and Law began his dance. His style had always been more defensive focused, blocking all attacks and sending blaster bolts back at the enemy had server him well in the past but it was something the NIO and the Force Corps was trying to shake out of him so Law tried. The blade spun around him clipping the creatures and burning flesh though now he tried to add in more attacks and counter attacks. The problem with doing something a way for so long is that when you try and change it, that requires active thought, which slows you down. His attacks proved deadly clearing out deep ravines in the flesh of the worms but opened himself up. Cuts and bruises started to dot his person, the worst a fairly deep wound on his right calf which slowly started to fill his boot with crimson. Law was not the avatar of death that some Jedi and Sith could be, more of a boulder in the center of a river annoying and slowing the current of bugs. Luckily the troupers were there, their sustained fire resolved the issue of creatures trying to avoid his swirling blade and occasionally firing down on a mass that pushed one of his sides too far.

So much his concentration on the fight that only his subconscious noticed that his master had stayed behind the lines, watching Law and aiding only if the worms were to overrun the position. Imperial Knight Vatn seemed willing to let this encounter act as an aid to his apprentices growth though sure to jump in if the situation would call for more deaths.

Norbert Wilhelm​

 

[Darth Assimilus]

Twisted on the currents of darker cosmic energy and saturated with a connection to undying rage. Kezeroth stood up fully. His helmet sliding off his lap onto the floor with a hollow thud. He was needed. I am needed. Kezeroth is needed, not KZ-729. Just today. He was fully convinced on the inside. That it was time let this new order know who he really was and worry about the consequences of his fallacy afterward. Any who dared approach him would be respected none the less but for now?

Focus became him. Closing his eyes he gripped his breast plate with the force. Tying it back onto his chest loosely. Inner ducts and passages of thought solely conveying on a singular point in time. Sensory acuity boomed throughout the entire system of nerves and muscles. Tension. Beneath plastiod composite and duraplast plating the Gen'dais entire body began to flex and relax in cycles. A rhythm of perpetual tension, like a serpent constricting and crushing its prey. A quake sprouted from the center of his torso into his hands causing him to visibly shake. Items in the barracks shook, trembling in fear and physically warming up as the darkside flooded in to the epicenter of the mental. Then extending both hands it blasted out in a blink of force lightning. Fusing with the oxygen and imploding on itself in fluctuating ripples that warmed the red giants body. The fabric of reality cried of relief and the barracks bathed itself in a warm vibrant hue of a hellish sort.

Almost as if the red giants own thoughts leapt into reality itself.

​

 

[Ravraa Vyshraal]

Location: Prism
Task: Objective Two - Godslayer
Faction: New Imperial Order
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The forces that had disembarked from the gunship were far from notable peoples in the grand scheme of this operation, and to outsiders, none of them should be viewed as anything more than just the next squad of stormtroopers that would be sent to the slaughter. Of course, that's what most of the operating men had come to believe themselves. They stood as the minority among Force Sensitives and non-standard troopers gathered for this undertaking. There were comments being thrown through the ranks as they watched the crafts land and unload what seemed to be oddity after oddity, some of the men gathered mentioning if they had recognized the individuals, especially after it had been made clear that most of them had come with their own objectives, and that they wouldn't risk any disrespect should one of the gathered higherups make their way to the lines of betaplast. Even the officer was leaning on his right leg, closer to the blue pauldroned stormtrooper, and whispering off some commentary that Ravraa couldn't quite make out from his position at the far end up the lineup.

Grinning underneath his helmet. the Togruta reached over and gave the solider to his immediate left a tap on his shoulder, nodding his helmet in the general direction of the Mandalorian that had appeared on stage in the hanger.

"<Guessing that nonsense on Krieg worked out for us,>" He would say.

"<They're kickass, man. Just look at him.>" The trooper replied.

"<Not as well spoken as I'd put it but... yea, they're pretty kickass!>" Ravraa chuckled.

The officer nodded to the commander, before taking a few steps into the general direction of the gathered stormtroopers. They were roughly much less organized and serious in the moment than he would have preferred them to be. He had put in his time and service, he was certain that once he stood in front, made his intent clear, they would silence.

Ravraa was caught up now in telling the solider next to him some story about his life in the Galactic East, occasionally switching to an overbearing Huttese accent as he went, the rest of the company was also in quite a similar state. Not fully broken from their rank and file, but they were far from paying proper attention to their command. Even the blue-trooper was leaning to another, rattling off comments back and forth between the two.

This went on for some time.

The officer gently, yet firmly, cleared his throat.

It went on.

Eventually, the commander noticed the officer standing there. He finished his conversation before suddenly barking out.

"<I think Officer Presban would like to speak!>"

It was with that, the conversations and laughing slowly died down, however not immediately.

"Thank you, Sergeant. Now, as I'm sure you're aware. There are... elements of the opposition, running amuck in this vessel. They are disgracing the pride of the New Imperial Order, of the Sovereign Imperator...."

The rattling eventually faded into background noise for Ravraa. The officer blurring into a shape of grey and black simply pointing randomly at the group and flapping his jaw. However, suddenly, he turned on his heel and began to march off, the troops soon following in quickly behind him. Ravraa lagging behind in the back of the group as they began to set off. Apparently, the mission had started. Who would have guessed?

Then, someone came wandering out of the darkness at the group. He was armed enough to be far from a drifter or a normal spacer, clad in armor and plating. He couldn't place most of the make or model, something was off about the man, though it was far from something that Ravraa could place.

He then noticed that the man was making his way to Ravraa, and then, began to even speak to him. Not what you'd traditionally expect to happen aboard a derelict ship.

“Hello. I was hired to assist in this operation.”

There seemed to almost be a moment where Ravraa had to take in the statement, before very slowly he gave a nod, clunking his helmet as he did so. Mercs, of course it was a merc.

"<Right then... well, right now Officer Presban is in charge here. If you want to follow along with us, just get behind me. Check your corners, watch for cloaks.>"

//tags Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Tarrik Kestis Trajan Fett Lucien Dooku Avernus Mazrim Caide/Taim

(know i missed some folk)

 

[Mazrim Caide/Taim]

Taim nods, but immediately disregards the order to make up the rear guard by taking point position, crouched low and moving into the darkness with his slug thrower carbine raised, sweeping sight lines with the calm efficiency of a veteran soldier. he taps the side of his visor and speaks over the comms channel he had been given access to.

"Route swept and cleared. Moving forward to far point scout position."

true to his word, he moves ahead of the group until he is no longer visible, and seems to simply fade from existence until his cold, modulated voice comes over the comms again.

"Hostiles detected up ahead. Scout forces have engaged. Recommend immediate reroute. Their position is overrun, saving them will take a large expenditure of tactical resources, though it can be done. Holding position and awaiting orders."

There is no emotion in his voice as he recommends leaving the forward scouts to their fate and proceeding with the mission. It seems an even colder man lies beneath the cold exterior of his combat armor. As people get closer, they can make out the vague outline of him taking cover on a corner.

//tags: Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Tarrik Kestis Trajan Fett Lucien Dooku Avernus Ravraa Vyshraal (If I didnt list you and you wanna interact please feel free)

 

[Wraith]

// BUCKETHEAD - 3 //
// OBJECTIVE // OPERATION: SHATTERPOINT // REPEL THE BOARDING PARTIES //
// FOCUS // Darth Kalyptos // Logan

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As Garrick and his squad gunned down the fleshy mass of aliens squirming towards him, he grimaced at a familiar screech. He panned his helmeted head to watch the blast door sliding open to reveal a Gand waddling through. Wraith tilted his head to the side in confusion before raising his rifle up. He dropped to a knee and opened fire, loosing several shots at the small insectoid Findsman. The unfamiliar sight would be treated as all other hostiles aboard the Epitaph II, kill on sight. Beside the scout trooper, two of his fellow stormtroopers engaged the Gand as well, both of them laying down suppressive fire beside their squad leader.​

​

At the intersection behind them, more Lugubraa wriggled towards the remaining troopers. While some of the soldiers managed to kill the encroaching targets, others were brought down beneath the fleshy swarm. There were far too many aliens to eliminate in order to save their fellows. It left many of them to face the horrible experience of being consumed by the freakish beasts. Their screams echoed through the halls, reaching the ears of their allies. With each passing second, their hope died away. The likelihood of survival in the face of such adversity was slim to none. Rather than break formation and attempt to flee, Wraith's men hunkered down, intending to take out as many of them as they could.​

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

Objective II : Operation: ‘God Slayer’ // Diab 6
Location : Prism
Allie : Tarrik Kestis Trajan Fett Lucien Dooku Ravraa Vyshraal Mazrim Caide/Taim

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The woman kept up a strict pace matching the Inquisitor, sparing him a glance to find his eerie stare. They could not afford distraction and it made her grind her jaw together, turning her eyes back to the murky halls of the Prism; carrying on with the air of a soldier. Force users didn’t seem to understand the statement of subtleness. The lighting was poor and she had to rely on baser senses, regretting the lack of the HUD. The woman may have outpaced it some days but it had been a key tool.

As they explored deeper into the bowels, her blaster was trained on every corner they passed; it was simply too quiet and the comm links were terribly quiet. There were burning questions in the air, but Lyra wasn’t sure what to make of the perturbed mess that the Force hinted upon. Still lacking the basic understandings and nuances of it. The moment the intercom rang out, her stomach dropped as she pulled her weapon close, one hand dropping to her hip where the vibrosword awaited.

Who’s idea had this been again? There were faint echoes of screeching and it was hard to pinpoint where they originated from. They should have just blasted the piece of junk out of space, but who was she to question the orders though? It almost drew a morbid chuckle out of her, oh the double standards..She felt a shift in the air, picking up the pace, throwing herself after the Inquisitor.

“If you underestimated the enemy that was your first mistake-human experimentation is never something simple to trifle with,” Lyra muttered under her breath.

When the first wave of them came, she wasn’t prepared for the grotesque stretch of skin and ailing features of something that had once been human. As the man’s saber flew, Lyra’s finger had already slid comfortably over the carbine trigger; opening fire on the beastlings. Their size was as bad as the hive demons on Aeten II. Catching the torso, the shots smoked but didn’t seem to dog the experiment down until she hit it three more times. When the Inquisitor dispatched the first so easily, Lyra released a fresh breath of frustration.

“Or we risk getting lead in a circle or ambushed,” Lyra warned, rushing past the force user and around the corner firing off another round of pop shots after the monsters. Her knee hitting the durasteel as she trained down the next long hall. “Can you not just I don’t know sense the Jedi, realistically he’s either in a command center or a laboratory. So we either go up or down.”

 

[Darth Kalyptos]

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// BUGMAN //
// OBJECTIVE // Get on solid ground
// FOCUS // Logan | Wraith
// THEME // Alrighty then...

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The Gand disposed of the other two stormtroopers in line with Garrick with relative ease, levying a precise blaster shot to the exposed armorwave necklining between their chestplate and helmet before the Gand dropped the gun in a maniac craze before charging the scout trooper. Sliding down ward the bug-eyed alien went to kick at the Scout Trooper's ankle to send him to the ground before drawing a jagged vibro dagger from his atmospheric suit, eventually rising back up to his feet. Silent. Killer.

While the Gand might've had a more than comedic look about them, they were no foe to be trifled with and switching the weapon to an icepick grip in his insectoid talons, the Gand charged to slash at the man's collar. Invigorated by what? Hatred for the New Imperial Order? The want to pilfer the ship? No...merely because he had no idea where he was or who he was fighting.

 

[Avernus]

Objective II - OPERATION GOD SLAYER
Location - Avernus' Personal Upsilon-class Shuttle - Vessel Designation: DEICIDE 1 - Stationary, docked within the Prism.
((Hotspot internet will not allow me to tag because it's so terrible))

Fire Chicken!? Sure, she hadn't given her thought a tangible form through words, but Avernus 'heard' it loud and clear. If that wasn't bad enough, she had the AUDACITY to run off with the First Brother. She was his apprentice, not the First Brothers, how could she be so impudent? He'd show her, he thought as he dug through the shuttle compartment under the pilot seat. He had retreated back to the shuttle in OUTRAGE after the initial engagement, storming away from the mission rather theatrically to further embarrass his apprentice.

He eventually found a nice addition to his ensemble. He placed it onto his head, the crown rested neatly between the two fabric horns that protruded from his outfit. He brushed himself off as he stood up and slid the seat forward to close off the compartment. Closing his eyes he began to focus on his apprentice's presence within the force. As soon as he could feel it, he latched onto it with his command of the dark side. After a deep breath he willed hims-

VWOOMP
​

-elf to her, oh, that worked a lot quicker than he had anticipated. Avernus always was a learn-and-improve by doing type of man, and he was getting pretty good at this. With a quick motion, the now King Fire Chicken Avernus extended his undulating, unstable amethyst blade and sliced through his apprentice's blaster. Such a barbaric and ungraceful weapon didn't belong in the hands of a Sith. Within the same motion, he commanded the blade to retract and clipped it back onto his belt. He looked down to Lyra with a feigned look of disappointment. "I thought we agreed you'd at least try to use something more fitting of an apprentice."

 

[Wilhuff Krieg]

// SHIPMASTER //
// OBJECTIVE // Operation Shatterpoint
// FOCUS // Marlon Sularen | Cassian Jo'Zotic

Spoiler: Patrol Group 'Mythosaur'

Corvus-class Frigate...........[ 100 // 100 ]
Picket // Anti-starfighter
TIE/INx..[2x12]
TIE/OTx..[1x16]
Corvus-class Frigate...........[ 100 // 100 ]
Picket // Anti-starfighter
TIE/INx..[2x12]
TIE/OTx..[1x16]
Vandal-class Corvette..........[ 100 // 100 ]
Corvette // Anti-starfighter, battleline
Vandal-class Corvette..........[ 100 // 100 ]
Corvette // Anti-starfighter, battleline
Vandal-class Corvette..........[ 100 // 100 ]
Corvette // Anti-starfighter, battleline
Praefect-class Star Destroyer..[ 100 // 100 ]
Star Destroyer // Battleline
TIE/HF...[3x12]
TIE/DF...[2x24]
TIE/OTx..[1x16]
TIE/HB...[2x8]

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<"Quite the day. Seems as if they're trying their best to escape but...say what you will of the Imperator's vessels, the interdiction tells a different story."> Bralor stated as he peered out of the viewport of the ship's command bridge. Seeing the various parceled pirate vessels shatter and explode under the weight of collective Imperial firepower be it from the Epitaph II and its supporting squadron itself or 'Mythosaur' and the strike group under Sularen's command.

<"We've done all that can be done from here...its all up to the troopers on the inside now."> Bralor remarked offhandedly, crossing his arms over his chest. It was a peculiar sight, seeing a full fledged Mandalorian at the head of an Imperial formation but such was the reality the so called 'Sons Of Mandalore'. Among a long tenured culture of Imperial Naval Officers, Bralor was quick to establish himself if only by providing a new perspective - working with lesser, parceled resources if nothing else, a hurdle officers hailing from the Sith Imperial Armada would be brutally unfamiliar with.

 

[Lucien Dooku]

THE PRISM, DIAB 6
OPERATION GOD SLAYER
TEAMING UP WITH Trajan Fett
A W A R R I O R S C A L L
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"Sithspawn indeed." Luc responded as he stepped past Trajan with his weapon in hand. He'd come across his fair share of sithspawn in the various tomb raiding expeditions he'd been apart of, but that didn't make fighting the grotesque creatures any more enjoyable. The process that involved their creation was twisted and steeped in the practices of the Sith, and it took no more than putting two-and-two together for him to assume that the prison's inhabitants were the basis for the specific form of spawn that ambushed them at the elevator. It was taken down easily enough alone, but complications were bound to arise if the creatures swarmed the pair in their next encounter.

Turning back to face the rising Mandalorian, Luc peered down to the lightsaber in his hands before offering a smirk at his newfound companion. "I'm...something of a Jedi, I guess. just not the pretentious kind of cultist who comes from the Core." He called himself a Jedi when it was convenient, though Luc did not formally belong to any order. He was trained independently by a Master that was an enigma, and in the end he was left to follow a path that was surely not the life for him. Had he allowed his fate to be dictated by the whims of his family, Luc would've been on the opposite end of the Order's war against the Empire, but the life of a Sith was not what he signed up for in the beginning.

Luc was keen on expanding on his previous response until the blast door ahead of them slid open on its own, the Mandalorian who had moved ahead of him then proceeding to be slammed backwards and to the ground with the force. Luc pressed forwards slowly as the robed figure presenting himself with his crimson weapon in hand. A hand waved upwards in the direction of Trajan as he directed the force onto his comrade, providing Trajan with enough telekinetic stability to lift himself to his feet without the weight of his armor holding him down. The fallen Jedi went on to speak, to which Luc simply ignored whatever the man had to say. It was always the same thing with their types, and truth be told he simply didn't have it in him to try and dissuade or discuss anything with someone who'd clearly lost their senses ages past.

Impassive eyes set upon the fallen Jedi as he tightened his grip upon the lightsaber, his stance shifting out slowly into a more presentable guard to meet the man in combat. A smirk set upon his lips as Lucien moved to react to the Dark Jedi's initial opening to their fight. Crimson and Aqua blades collided in mid-air as he blocked the Jedi's initial swing. "Don't tell me that's all the power the dark's granted you!" Luc taunted, a hand dropping from his grip and removing the vibrodagger from its holster beneath his shoulder. A thrust towards the man's abdomen forced the Dark Jedi to leap backwards, and Luc surged forwards on an offensive of his own.

Their lightsabers collided in a boisterous series of attacks and counter-attacks stemming from both Lucien himself and the Dark Jedi he fought. The two were mostly evenly-matched, though to the trained eye it was apparent that Lucien was at a slight disadvantage, perhaps stemming from his own inexperience in fighting against other force users. Several glancing blows made it appear as if Luc was on a downturn, emboldening his enemy who pressed even harder to defeat the apparently weakening Jedi. It was this hubris which led the man to not see past the younger Jedi's Machiavellian way of thinking.

Luc jumped backwards, visibly breathing hard and covered with enough scalding wounds that it appeared as if he was on his last legs. The Dark Jedi replicated the maneuver from the beginning of their fight and charged at him once again, intent on bringing the crimson saber down through his body and cutting him in half. What he didn't expect was for it all to have been a feint to get him to lower his guard at the opportune moment to do so. Luc slid forwards before his opponent was able to reach him and whipped the vibrodagger towards his head, forcing the man to block the weapon and stumble out of his charge to avoid getting impaled.

While it may have seemed like his only option, it would cost him the right to keep living in any case. Luc shot forwards from the ground with a deactivated lightsaber, throwing his body right into the inside of the Dark Jedi's now exposed guard. The hilt of his weapon surged forwards at the final moment before their bodies collided, activating just in time for the aqua-colored blade to energize into existence, penetrating at an angle through his abdomen and exiting through his back. Luc carried through with opening up his abdomen as he dragged it across his side and followed up by removing the hand that held his weapon. He didn't fight honorably if he didn't need to; Luc fought to survive, and he fought to win at all costs, especially if his enemy was not worth the life they were preciously given in the first place.

"Peace be with you, or somethin' like that." He remarked towards the falling corpse, then spat on the ground next to him to send him off to the afterlife in a manner that was fitting. Luc turned towards Trajan and gave him a grin despite the handful of visible wounds he'd suffered during the fight. Inside he was wincing to all hell from the intermittent jolts of pain surging through his nerves, but such wounds were only skin deep and not serious enough to prevent him from carrying on. "And here I thought killin' Jedi was a Mandalorian specialty."

Whispers of Annihilation