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Post #: 1
Allies: UCM and Allies
Location: ArmaTech City, Concord Dawn
Objective: Defend Concord Dawn
The day had started like any other. Quintus had travelled to Concord Dawn on a matter of personal business. He had been there to make some upgrades to his equipment, in fact. As time moved on, he could not shake a feeling that stuck in the pit of his stomach. He returned to his ship and flipped on the comms, listening in the chatter in the system. And there came proof that his intuition was supplied. Mandalorian chatter regarding a fleet of Sith above the space of Manda'yaim. The Sith did not appear to be doing anything yet.
Quintus was on edge, however. For the Sith to come by with such a large number, and unannounced? The warrior of Clan Cadera knew better. He felt a fight was coming. If Manda'yaim was one target, it was good logic that if this was what Quintus thought it was....Concord Dawn was a target as well.
What better way to invade a system than to cut off one of its major agri-worlds? Quintus immediately got into motion. Like any good warrior of thos proud culture, his armor was always withing reach. He equipped himself in his beskar'gam, shining bronze in the light. The armor gave the impression of a Sparthi warlord, red plume cresting the top of his helm.
He walked out from the ship, and began making his way toward the city center. He had equipped himself with his beskar gladius, and his energy shield gauntlet. If he was expected to take the lives of the Red Blades, he would do so with their knowledge that it was his blade plunging into their hearts. He stared up at the skies with a pregnant pause, awaiting for it to be swathed in the coming storm....
Information had been relayed from sources that held reliability, and Mira intended to ensure that the traitors in the midst of the chaos would be brought to light – regardless of the outcome.
She had been on world for some time, knowing the time would come for the Mandalorian Empire and the Sith to clash. She stood upright, and began moving along the city streets as the sounds of alarm klaxons began to fill the air. A stoic voice directed citizens to the nearest safe havens, but Mira heeded it no mind. She adjusted the cloak about her form, briefly exposing the armor beneath as she moved. The soldiers of Mandalore began to assemble and people shouted orders amongst the terrified masses and melding into the chaos was this singular being – with a purpose. Time seemed to feel distant and irrelevant as she moved in and out of the crowds of people, adjusting her equipment idly. The feedback from the internal navigation directed her towards the Command Center – a place she intended to lock down and ensure nothing got in the way of her directive. She almost felt pity for the people of Sundari, but that would be washed away in the notion of what was happening elsewhere, it would be replaced with fear and angst – but she let it go for now, she had a job to do.
Vengeance. It was a word seared into the minds of Onyx. Most specifically, the Captain. Who sat there on a crate in all of his armor, aside from his helmet which sat beside him. He just stared onto the wall, with a narrowed gaze. The briefing and mission plan he received was rather difficult to take in. One that can be regarded as a suicide mission. But this was a jab at the very people who brought death and pain to his squad. The sort of supposed 'rivalry' began at the Acerbitas, and hopefully it ended here.
During this time of thought and pondering he was interrupted by one of his squadmates, Kai Carmine. The first victim to the brutality of the Mandalorians, but fortunate to survive.
"Ey' boss, you alright man?"
Anden provided a soft nod. "Aye..." He adjusted in his place, rising up and slapping his helmet on. A somewhat muffled voice spoke from Anden as the helmet sealed. "I'm good."
He watched as the members of the Empire's military shuffled about in the hangar, ready for insertion to the AO. To which Anden turned to Kai. "We're good to go?"
"Yeah, Vaak's gotta call it in to advisor that we're good to go." Carmine responded.
Anden patted the man's arm. "Let him know. We're with Erlien right?"
Carmine nodded and rushed over towards where the others were, yelling out back to his superior. "Yeah! Same as always!"
Anden smirked under the helmet, that pilot has been transporting Onyx for a while now. The guy might as well be considered apart of the family as well. But it was not time to have these sort of thoughts. The mission was minutes away. The captain slung his rifle and went over to the shuttle, embarking after requesting permission. Later followed by the members of his squad.
"Alpha's all in." Maxevan chimed on comms.
"Bravo's in." Carmine notified as well.
"Copy that. Stand by. We'll be in atmosphere soon. Touching down in 10 after we enter." Anden stated. Before adjusting his posture on the seat, buckling his seat.
Housed within the meditating chamber of the Sith Sphere, Darth Morbus remained deathly still. His yellow eyes were closed, his lekku unmoving, and the Twi'lek barely seemed to even breathe. Were it not for the subtle shifts in his eyebrow ridges and the tightening of pallid skin around his mouth, some might be forgiven for thinking Morbus dead. Yet, he wasn't. Mostly. There were preparations to make leading up to the battle, rituals to perform and concentration to attain. Despite the swirling mass of voices within Morbus' mind, he focused, managing to bring himself to a point where application of his true power was tangible and widespread.
"You had better start focusing, too, Servant," Morbus muttered, as he smiled. He directed his attention to one of the newest initiates to the Jen'Vi'kas, Valin Stryder. "Today you show us all what you are capable of... so don't screw it up, hm?"
For his part, Morbus was busy infusing various ingredients into a boiled pot before him. An assortment of grotesque items were brewed together, including some of his own blood drawn with a small blade across his thumb, with the droplets mixing into the thick brew. When the time was right, the Twi'lek began to mutter in High Sith, the guttural words low and barely heard, as the dark side began to channel within, moving throughout the chamber like a shadowy wraith. The mixture was infused, drawing the energies around into it through manipulation from Morbus' hand, causing it to swirl and bubble and burn like acid.
"I must have total concentration for this effort, Servant," Morbus said in a coarse voice, as he half-opened his eyes and looked to Valin. "If we come under attack, you will guard me until I am able to recover... but don't be so shortsighted as to think you'll gain something from killing me yourself. You're barely a whelp and have much to learn. So control your own stupidity and lust for power. At least for today."
Grunting to himself, Morbus assumed a less comfortable kneeling position with his legs twisted awkwardly beneath him. He pressed both hands together before him, fingertips to fingertips, held at chest height. The talisman hanging from a chain around his neck, similar to the previous Supreme Prophet's own, began to twitch and glow, as the Sith Lord began to push his power through the collective Qixoni crystals. In unison the four crystals would enhance Morbus' force power, while also narrowing the nature of his abilities to improving his control and manipulation of illusions... and through focusing and channeling the effort, vast armies could be projected and controlled from across varying distances, all the while becoming physically manifest and able to injure those he sought to.
It is almost time.
From the control panel of the Sith Sphere, the two pilots maintained careful awareness of the battlefield. They would remain with the majority of the Sith fleet for as long as possible, but would aim at avoiding direct combat against enemy starfighters or vessels; their task was to defend, to evade and not to break Morbus' concentration, and they would not fail in the task for they knew of Morbus' penchant for discipline...
One ship...Two ships...Ten ships...Dozens...Hundreds. Normally a single ship or even a small flotilla wouldn't have been enough to raise a brow. Despite several clans' best wishes the Mand'alor, or previous Mand'alor, had signed away their right to protest the Sith using their system to refuel on their campaigns in the Outer Rim...But this. This many ships was not a stop over...This was an invasion.
Hush silently cursed under his breath. He'd been a fool to think that Yasha's reign ending would have been something of a quiet affair. Of course the Sith would use her absence as the signal to move on their long-time enemy. Aye, young folks and the strange ones that passed through that gate as children and came out as adults had missed that chapter of Mandalorian history, hadn't lived it, but the Sith had been their one true enemy for decades and damn them all for not taking the words of elder Mandalorians seriously. There would be no time to signal the ground, they'd have to figure it out themselves.
While his fleet could easily occupy a small sector on its own...It paled in comparison to the combined might of no less than two Super Star Destroyers. The Behemoth and the Goliath...He'd seen both in action before, at least on holos and he already knew what was coming.
"Launch fighters, send a squadron to the ground and warn them as quickly as possible!" His eyes wandered over to Gilamar's fleet of ragtag civilian ships. He knew the old man had put down his sword but if Mandalore was to be saved...They would all need to fight.
"Launched sir!" He nodded and stood before setting his helmet on his spiked head and sealing it.
"Good, prep the Beasts. We ride in 5."
-----
The Orga Sarad lurched, its engines flaring sluggishly as the ancient battlecruiser moved to defy the Sith fleets. Beside it Saha moved as well, its destroyers and support ships moving to intercept the fighters and other vessels. The fleet lashed out in defiance loosing arcs of green, red, and blue turbolaser fire at the battlecruisers and destroyers. They weren't foolish enough to think their weapons could hurt the Behemoth and Goliath, and so focused their pain elsewhere. Hush and his riders left the ventral hangar of the Orga Sarad, their trajectories set for Sundari. While Bes'uliik could dominate in space due to their radar signitures being so small compared to fighters, they were truly meant for planetside.
His beast shuddered through the atmosphere and screamed towards the capital city dome. Already he could see the Sith falling towards them, their forces had been dropping since they started entering the system unopposed by Mandalorian defenses who had been conditioned to letting the Sith do as they pleased. Anger flooded his veins and his grip tightened on the reigns of his beast.
There was always said to be a calm before the storm.
That was a lie.
The sound of feet marching throughout the ship soothed impatient minds. It was all too soon to get worked up for a soldier going into combat. It was almost palpable now. The nerves. The distinct hum of the Behemoths engines engaged stood as a memorial for every consistent and fluid moment that was to pass, Like watching time on a clock or observing the interminable flow engross on Coruscant. One could easily lose themselves in the cluttering disarray of activity. Droids. Beeping, chirping, alarms, lights flashing signaling respective groups with direction and orders. Machines all tagging along with their distinct officers as programmed. Squadrons to rely important information. Tactics. Battle plans. Gruff daunting voices echoed aloud sending vibrations in the air. The tapping of singular feet in anticipation. Armor jingling in swift fast movements with eager hands. Already the faint aroma of bloodlust was stinging the air. Many were indeed ready for this... or so they believed.
Clicking. clanking. ringing. buzzing. The throbbing thumps of hundreds. No. Thousands of hearts beating in what could only be compared to a drunken cantina band playing live. The minds in unity but the bodies were not. It was madness incarnate. He could hear and feel it all. Everything could be felt from within as if it was apart of himself. Armored hands clawed at red skin. Muscle detailed with cords of fibers and exposed nerves on the facial region. The countenance of strife, anticipation and an capacity of violence. Large fang like teeth protruded forward with menace as the bottom and upper lips curled with a fold. Gritting the enamel, the stress and friction apon these once pearly whites fractured. Thrown into a cycle of breakage and repair before the eyes. Regeneration. The silhouette of a large armored figure rose to full height from a seated position. A feral and primal growl emitting. Faint red beads peered past light and darkness. Forward the "man" leaned forceing himself to walk out of his quarters and into a busy corridor laden with the preparations for war.
Metal boots freshly polished over, thumped against the metal plated deck with increasing frequency. Men, soldiers and officers alike stood aside to let the giant stride down the hall. Their eyes resting on a physical representation of a monster. A large metal helmet rested tight against the protected plating between the left bicep and left abdomen. Plain in appearance and aged from battle. Every nic and dent was a story of its own for all to see. In a way the armor was a vessel to hold more scars than any fleshly body could. It brought in many stares and nods in respect. Behind the physical markings and underneath the protective materials that be, irradiated a raw untamed affliction. Like a blazing star on the edge of its existence. It was corrupting to be around and even more so to behold. Oozing out of every opening. Kezeroths face said it perfectly. Hatred.
Pulsating from his very being in subtle waves. The angst of waiting was beginning to drive him mad. Bound and chained to a fate of destruction, the Gen'dai was an animal. A rarely did the Sith allow their emotions to over take them and throw themselves in a fit of rage. There was always to be control lest you were to be controlled. That was the tradition and code of the sith! Times had changed though. No more were the glorious days of mounting worlds with the previous One Sith Empire. They were gone. Dead, just like Kezeroth had been. The rules has changed. The strong did not rule the weak. There was no One Sith. There was only the rule of Order now. If it were naught for Darth Prazutis's powerful ritual binding the Gen'dais spirit into a new cloned body. The hulking armored sith lord would not of been here. He was indebted to the Zambranos for this sudden offering of life.
But the only question was what did they want? To use him as a weapon? If so all they need say is where. This was the question he demanded to be answered. Storming his way into the bridge. A large hand pushed a two men out of they sending them on their arse. When the men approached a second time Kezeroth halted furrowing his brow and gazing them down. Kill them. Sinister thoughts whispered into the red giants mind but with did not prevail in action. The Sith sword that hung on Kezeroths back glew faintly with a fiery like aura. Twisting down its double sided edge. It seemed the sword of chained and shackled to his right forearm emitting a faint red glow. Its voice he knew all too well in his mind. The sword wanted nothing more than for him to hold it in his grasp and invoke the crimson inferno within.
It would soon get its wish, but not now. Soon the ship would exit hyperspace and the assault would begin.
His unflinching gaze persisted on the men that surrounded the emperor and for those that questioned his intent. They were fools for doubting him and yet.. He knew the intimidating presence he held. They were right to question the Gen'dai. Few sith walked in onto the bridge in such a aggressive manner, especially in the presence of the Dark Lord himself! With a pause Kezeroths upper lip curled revealing a smirk followed next by a raised brow. Red eyes feel on the [member="Darth Carnifex"] and like the soldiers the Gen'dai has previously bullied Kezeroth couldn't help but feel greatly intrigued and held at a distance despite his close proximity to the man. The Dark Lord of the Sith. Never before did the red giant have the chance to meet the now Emperor in the past. He knew of his power and skill on the battlefield though and that was all he needed.
Kaine Zambrano. This was the same man? He seems, taller. No. I am just as big as him and yet I feel smaller? What poodoo is this?
He asked himself in question before cockily taking two steps forward preparing to speak. Hands hung at his side and standing broad shouldered with his chest puffed out he asserted himself onto everyone in the room like a Zakkeg in heat. " Mm-" Opening his mouth to speak his words were cut short when impulse was brazenly set in precedent over formalities. Formalities were for the weak.
" What is this I see here? Heheh. The men before you are mynocks with their wings clipped. How fitting it is to see them flopping about eager to prove their worth." He cracked. "Tell me where I am to be positioned." The red giants voice echoed about the bridge and then continued. "Or ...perhaps you'd have me be unleashed in full apon who I please. Butcher-King." Oddly enough the Gen'dai did not use the what could be considered the proper titles when addressing the Emperor. His words poked about like a needle dicing in and out of playfulness. For a man so decorated and revered maybe it would be a relief to be approached by someone too stupid to know what was good for them.
Aboard the Crimson Valkyrie. In Orbit Above Mandalore. Allies: [member="Kaalia Pavanos"] Opponents: TBD
Charlyra quietly focused on her training, focused on the decision she made not so long ago on Korriban. A decision to join the Valkyries, it reminded her of the time she had been taken in by the Order of Fire. This though was different, this wasn't nearly as insular and held more of a pointed focus. A quiet magenta glow surrounded the Sith acolyte as she centered herself. The battle would arrive soon enough, Mandalore had been seen as weak - their losses combined with the blood the Sith had spilled on their behalf... Led to this very moment, a decision made by the Dark Council.
Mandalore was to be culled, and so there she was in meditation aboard the Crimson Valkyrie who's own gravity well projectors began to hum. A unique Star Destroyer within the Sith-Imperial Armada, it had followed in the Behemoth's wake and now rested with its own escorts. Its sleek hull seemed brighter under these stars, perhaps it was due to the absence of sound - or maybe it had been a striking image to Charylra.
As the moments passed she would complete her meditation, and make her way for the armory before joining her master aboard the shuttle. Together they would inevitably make their way toward Sundari, where they would either find potential sisters or souls to collect, either way this was sure to be quite the battle.
Location: Heading to Concord Dawn Ally: Aiding theMando Post:1 Tagging: Taozi Fuyuan
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
There had been whispers throughout the galaxy. Much like the muffled cold breath of winter befalling upon land. They had been rumors that the proud Empire of the Mando were under the watchful eye of the hungry beasts..the sith.
The galaxy can be said by many to have suffered much under both regimes of the sith and of Mandalor. But to compare the proud with the wicked were two entirely different matters. true, the current Empire of the Mando had taken a toll on most of the systems it had elected to conquer. But they were not as cruel and cold hearted as the sith...just many had become misguided. So were Marina's heart concerning the Mando. She had suffered with friends, the rift between the clans. Had suffered through campaigns to bring relief and aid on Onderon and many more systems that were under the Mandoloreon colors. Marina had many whom she considered friends...and many of them were Mandos.
Her own queen of the Royal House of Alderaan had family, that were now coming under siege from the onslaught of the sith Empire. Marina had no love for the current Mando Regime that had overtaken the majority of Mandalor and it's holdings. But she did have heart for the people, the Mando. For no one Mando could be judged solely on the basis of the whole Regime, when just one among them had empathy. And she knew several that she came to call friends that were such Mando's. These were Marina's thoughts, her feelings as to why an Alderaani like herself would risk life and limb to try and aid a proud people who for the better part of it, looked upon her as a weakling.
Only many Alderaani, despite being pacifists were weaklings. On the contrary, it took more heart to be tolerant and stand up to oppressors like the sith and Imperials. Alderaani had suffered through as a people since the dawn of the Galactic Empire for a thousand years past now. They had been marked for genocide, yet they prevailed and prospered. This was by far not a sign of weak people, but of people who persevered and endured...much like the Mando at heart. It were this similarity of stay that fueled many like Marina to see the Mando heart not perish under the iron boots of the sith...
At an undisclosed sector of space...
To Marina's surprise, the ATM Serenity had been prepared for this. It was always prepared for such scenarios each and every time she came seeking supplies for one incursion or another.
Marina wasn't part of the administration that kept this humanitarian faction 'Doctors Without Borders' functioning as it were. But she had been a regular volunteer on many of the galaxy's most prominent conflicts. Most often not even remotely involving her home world of Alderaan.
She had arrived just two hours ago seeking medical supplies, rations and portable shelter pods. Necessary components for a system under siege.
"You know they will likely fire upon you as they will the sith." One of the administrators, Sands said, as she looked over the manifest she were given.
"Yea..." her tone somewhat strained. "I've come to expect that from the regime."
She knew as a whole, the Mandos didn't take kindly to meddlers...weaklings getting in their way, especially during conflicts. But there were Mandos too that she could call friends. It were these individuals and their extended families that she were risking her life for. Maybe not directly, but in her heart, she knew if there were a handful of Mando
"Drop in, punch out...hear?"
The list had just about everything she had requested and a few more ...refrigerated crates of blood and plasma. It were going to be a bloody war..a costly one at that.
"Yea...drop in, jump out..." how many times had she said that and stayed the course? The administrator knew this, he knew her. He put a hand on her shoulder, one pat..two. This was not exspected to be anything else but a major conflict.
"You keep sharp...eyes in back of your head. This campaign puts a lot of people like yourself between the hammer and the anvil."
"Right..." Marina looked over to him. he was right about that. Two hard core regimes meeting for a rumble where winner takes all. It were going to be costly for sure on both sides. "...eyes in back of my head." She replied, before looking over to her ship, the Mariner IV. The supplies had all been loaded and secured. One of the porters were heading over to them with his own holo-pad.
She were fully loaded and fueled.
"God speed, Marina..." The administrator then said.
There were no time for more words. There were never really much time for small talk at times like these.
Marina nodded, giving him and the porter a smile before she headed to her ship. The ATM Serenity was hopping, as more volunteers came from all portions of the galaxy to come for supplies. Not all were heading into the new fray, as there were conflicts and afflicted innocents all over this chaotic galaxy that din't seem to have an end for bloodshed.
be de beep be...her droid welcomed her into the cockpit. it had the engines ready and was currently waiting for her and the go ahead to deploy from the main bridge that were coordinating ships coming in and out.
"Got the tactical Coordinates to Concord Dawn..." she handed over the micro disk to her atromech droid.
de de.. he took it, inserting it into the main frame of the ship's navigation computer.
immediately a clear jump avenue opened, along with it's calculated clear emergence point.
The computer confirmed the dynamic optimization of the coordinates given. They had been calculated from a tactical computer. So it appeared that whom ever it were that were behind Doctors Without Borders was in par with the best out military strategists out there. After all, it's volunteers weren't blindly sent on humanitarian campaigns as mere expendables, no. This galaxy was short on conscientious individuals like Marina.
The green light was given and she took her ship out of the main landing bay and on to open space.
As she reached her designated point of entry, The Mariner IV drives engaged and she were off in a flash.
Mig watched as Clan Tal off loaded the medical supplies, a thank you for ships that the small clan and created for them. It was nice to know the Jetii would continue to let the medical clan work from Taanab. He knew tensions were high at times, but this was at least a start. Ilik Gred, the clan's medic, also watched with his daughter, Leddie. Concord Dawn had needed some knew medical supplies, so it was nice to see that Tal was more than willing to provide. I did him good to see that even some of the smaller clans could work together. It was then that a feeling hit him. A disturbance in the Force. He couldn't pin it, but something was up. He heard Taozi speak, and eyed her.
"Agreed, Alor Fuyuan. Something's up. Lar, get the other Mando'ade'jetii ready, and put everyone on alert." Mig walked over to Ilik, about to ask him something when he got a communication from the fleet above. The fleet was newly formed, but there were a few other ships. A Cadera-class with four Viper squadrons, on loan for training, and the clan's stealth Torrent-types, hiding in the black with their cloaking devices. Every Storm-class and Torrent-type had been armed with four BM-1 Baradium Bisulfate Missiles. New weapons that required the heavy launchers, made in the aftermath of Taanab. The message that came in though.... It was something Mig never wanted to hear.
"Alor! Sith fleet came into the system! Low power and covered in debris! They... they launched it at the planet, but the fleet's just getting online." Mig's eyes went wide as he quickly as he put his helmet on and sent a planet-wide transmission.
"This is not a drill! The Sith are invading! All warriors and Mando'ade'jetii, get to your post! All none-combatants, get to evac ships!" He then quickly contacted the fleet, knowing they needed to act. "Hit those ships and try to strike the debris! We won't have a chance to do this damage again!" He quickly got some things together, and ran to Ilik. "I need to get something from home." The medic nodded, saying he would go with him before knelling down to Leddie, telling another Gred to get him a pair of Trayc'kal. He then took the one he had on his belt, and handed it to her.
"Leddie, I want you to...." The six year old Zabrak girl started crying, shaking her had and pushing the weapon away. She knew what he was saying by giving it to her, and didn't want to believe it.
"No.... No... I-I don't want it! I want you! Don't... don't.... Don't go...." Ilik sighed, pulling her close and hugging her, tears in his own eyes now.
"Leddie.... Life isn't always fair, and everyone who can fight needs to. Look, I may pass today, I may not, but if I do, you know that I'll be one with the Manda. Ok?" The little girl kept crying, not answering him. He then walked over to Taozi, pushing Leddie towards her and handing her the weapon Leddie wouldn't take. He then sighed, looking at her. "Keep my daughter safe. Get her away from this battle. Please. She'll be ready for this in time, but not now." Mig meanwhile watched on, sighing and deciding to send his own message to someone important to him. [member="Tamar Fitz Kierke"] .
"Ner Kar'ta (My Heart), I... I hope you see this message. I... may not make it out of this. If I don't, I love you, and.... I hope I can ask you something important face-to-face." He could get himself to say anymore, and Ilik walked up to him.
"Ready Alor?" Mig simply nodded as the pair got in a speeder, heading off to the homestead that was Mig's home.
Meanwhile, back in space, the joint fleet began their assault. They couldn't hold back right now, but their were some weapons better saved. Mostly aboard the Cadera-class and The Doge. They let their gravity cannons stay silent for now, and the Cadera's Behemoth missiles stay silent, but everything else opened fire. The fighters were scrambled to launch, and most of the ships opened fire on the fleet with everything they have, aiming for the lead ships. The Firebrands opened up with everything, including their Hyper-Particle Cannons. The Torrent-types appeared and vanished again one by one, firing two BM-1s and two advanced proton torpedoes each. Firing the powerful weapons wasn't a hard decision, but they wouldn't get another chance like this. The Enigma's held their distance for now, thanks to the powerful weapons fired. And the Storm-classes fired three advanced proton torpedoes into the fleet, but also launched a single BM-1 each into the debris. The Taanabian Spirit also fired on the debris, trying to reduce them to small enough chunks to just burn up. The action was pulled as quickly as possible, because they couldn't wait. They wait, they could lose everything.
The plains of wheat rolled about in the quiet whispers of the wind. An ode to the beauty of nature. The smell of them filling the nose and permeating through the air. Some of the plants were but buddlings, still yet too ripe to be harvested. The soil here was soft beneath the foot and flattened easily under it. Pressing itself into cakes of mud. The winds blew once more and the stench of death rested with them. Rage ran his hands through the fields, the vegetables withered at his touch bringing a faint smile to his other wise expressionless face. Everywhere the field seemed to expunge itself in death throws. The wind began to unfurl about the interloper in a whistling force. The dead wheat stocks threw themselves into it's wake and flew about the planet's growing gale. Rage stopped in the middle of the crop and awaited his followers to do the same. From an aerial view they rested in a field of black. Crow and fly returned to the crop to feast upon the pustules that had diseased the plants seemingly within seconds, only to fall victim to the plague's sickness as well. The very insects of the earth dropped to the ground and writhed in agony as it enveloped their forms and ate them from within.
"Here is where we will begin..." Rage muttered under his breath, the faintest expression of amusement playing across his face.
The ritual he was to perform would be but child's play to his power. Under his hooded form his slight grin grew into a devilish smile that nearly split his face in two. He reached to the waste of his black robe and durasteel armor, bringing forth a small tome that lie there. The book was a ghastly thing, wrapped in a fleshy face and bound by chains. With a wave of his hand the chain unwrapped itself from the Hell book and slid back to rest around his waist. Rage slid thumb against the edge of the first page, cutting it only in the slightest. Mad grin still splayed across his face he began to turn page after page marking each with blood of finger. As he did so he thought quietly to himself.
What demons shall I bring forth first to ravage this world?
But, before he did that he needed more blood. He nodded without looking to his acolytes. The acolytes were hideous beings altered by alchemy. Blood red stone extruded painfully so from their flesh seemingly at random. Veins of a brighter rose glowed within their rock mixing with their muscle and flesh, the veins could be seen beating with their masters power beneath skin and stone. The Acolyte's and Rage had raided a small farmstead. Bringing forth captured non-combatants, the women, children, and the elderly, they prepared to preform ritual.
An acolyte kicked the back of an elderly man's meniscus and he fell to his knees. The Mandalorians eyes were wrought with wrath, but he could do nothing. Stripped of armor and weapon he sat helpless as acolytes hand wrested upon his shoulder. He spit and Rage's gaze fell to him. His face once more returning to the expressionless look, but his eyes burning with the embers of the ancient Sith. They reflected an animalistic fury in the sun's beam and the old man new fear for the first time in his existence. Rage stormed over to the man and grabbed hold his throat with his free hand while book rested within the other.
Audroti lifted the elderly man out of the Acolytes grasp and into the air. He began to squeeze the throat. He felt muscles tighten beneath his grasp. Saw as the flesh began to bruise under his vice. He began to laugh as the old man's hands shot to Audroti's. He struggled beneath the Sith's grasps and he choked on his own words and blood. Life essence began to fill his throat as jugular collapsed. He screamed at the pain, blood bubbling from his open maw. Children and mother yelled and cried as their grandfather was set to die. The Acolytes caught in the rapture of slaughter released the hostages and stared dumbly after Rage. Horrified at the sight mother and children stared at the Sith like doe caught in headlights. Freezing in each others arms, but refusing to let go of one another or run. The old man's throat and flesh collapsed beneath Rages grasp and his laughter turned into a mad deep cackle. Blood spewed between his fingers and showered the pages of the book.
The book came to life and moaned with the taste of the ambrosia that was ichor. The fleshy face adorning the front of the book opened it's dried mouth in a agonizing scream and released a a black cloud of death as Rage continued his insane chuckle. The wind picked up as the book released a small amount of blackwing within the air. A small storm began. Rain poured from the heavens and as the angels wept. The Devil that was Audroti laughed.
Location: The Deep Black Sea Allies: Wayward Souls in Beskar'gam Enemies: Everything Else Objective: Find lost children and take them home Post: 01
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wbgInLJ81eY
Cold steel hummed with the quiet rhythm of distant ion drives as the subtle sounds of bottled air churning within tens of thousands of meters of narrow air ducts echoed loudly in the absence of more diverse ambiance. An echo of quiet conversation, the sounds of footsteps, a distant burst of laughter. All muffled by insulated metal walls designed for utility over comfort. The sounds of life aboard a ship of war. All of it rang within the ears of Olivia as she sat alone within her quarters, oblivious to the slow crawl of her warships through the darkness of the void between stars.
A helmet in the style of her people sat upon her desk, worn with age and resting upon a scattering of paper documents, it stared at Olivia with the judging visage of her own expectations as she neglected the glass of wine that dared to be placed so close to the visage of war. Olivia, for her part, was only passively aware of the helmet's judging gaze as her mind wrapped itself around the problems that played out upon the screen she held in her hand.
Her free hand manipulating the touchable part of the screen, Olivia flipped through sparse documents degraded by age and neglect. The Outer Rim. A distant and irrelevant corner of the galaxy to Clan Dem'adas when once they cruised the stars of the Mandalorian Territories, but it was where Olivia now found herself. This turbulent backwater within which her people sailed was remote and uncharted by the more civilized nations that vied for power at the core of the galaxy. To them, it was distant, dirty, and unworthy of their attention. And, sadly, Olivia had to admit that her people had seen it in much the same light. All she truly knew from memory was that the Kathol Outback was rumored to be one of the strangest sectors of the galaxy, and that most sailors would be wise to avoid the area entirely.
While it had been several years since she or her clan had moved ships through the main galaxy, she could still recall details about a great many planets and peoples scattered throughout the old Mandalorian Territories and the Core. From the sword-pistol wielding duelists of Adumar to the primal witches of Dathomir. The monks that secluded themselves on Yavin, the hive of sentient insects that infested the asteroids of Roche, the primitive wookiees of Kashyyyk and their eternal conflict with the lizard-men of Trandosha. Even the nobles of Eshan and Hapes were familiar to Olivia. She and her clan had sailed the void from the Gradilis Sector to the Braxant Sector to the Wyl Sector, the Parlemian Trade Route, the Daragon Trail, even the Tion Cluster and sections of the Mara Corridor were all sections of space that had held similar reputations when Clan Dem'adas served as the naval backbone of the Clans of Mandalore. Clan Dem'adas knew every planet and hyperspace lane throughout the old Mandalorian Territories and much of what lay beyond. But the blasted Outer Rim was as much a mystery to her as it was to anyone that didn't live in that tangled web of unstable hyperlanes. And just being born in the same galaxy as it did nothing to make it any less of a pain in her sheb.
And yet. It was the reason she now found herself, after all these years, back in the main galaxy that she had once considered her home. Taking a sip of her wine, Olivia mulled over the daunting task that had been given to her and her Mando'ade. Find one little, 8ft tall, green pain in the arse princess... who had the whole of the Outer Rim to hide within.
As her flagship and its escorts plied the void, somewhere between the Rimma Trade Route and the Corellian Run, Olivia tried to familiarize herself with what little information she had on the local people and worlds. Most of her fleet had already segmented into smaller detachments, making their way to the few pockets of space where subspace traffic indicated pockets of civilization in the wilds. They wouldn't find the princess at any of these places, but they'd be able to barter for local hyperspace charts, an index of local worlds much more detailed than the fragments of rumors left over on Clan Dem'adas mainframes that had happened to survive Otherspace, and maybe find information on some of the more secluded, and likely criminal, outpost scattered throughout the various sectors of this chaotic, reef-filled sea of stars.
The smell of wet grass and dew-rich air filled the room. A gentle breeze kissed at Olivia's cheeks, her hair fluttering in the flow of it. The small hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as goosebumps dotted her skin. A warmth that she had not known in years filled her heart. <What-> Olivia thought as she dropped the tablet onto her desk and turned to look at her quarters. But what greeted her eyes was not the spartan living conditions of her usual dwelling, but the rolling amber hills of her childhood home. The sound of children laughing echoed across the plane of swaying grass and ferns. A small tear formed in the corner of Olivia's eye, her throat felt thick with the emotions bubbling up inside her. <Home.> Olivia thought, reality forgotten as she willingly lost herself in the moment. It had been... oh so many years since she had seen Mandalore like this. When last she saw the world, it was a smoldering red and black cinder being viewed from tends of thousands of kilometers away.
A chill ran up Olivia's spine as a hot and sudden wind blew strong across the rolling planes. Amber grass withered and died as a shadow covered the land. Olivia looked up and saw the triangular form of an Imperial starship flying low over Mandalore. Screams and the sound of blaster fire echoed from the horizon and a smoldering rage filled Olivia's heart.
And then it was gone. The sights, the smells, and the cold empty of her quarters were all that surrounded Olivia. The anger though... the anger lingered in her heart.
The knock at her door caught her by surprise, and not just because of the hallucination. "Enter." Olivia said as she swiveled her chair to face the desk and sat up a little straighter, doing her best to appear as if nothing had just happened. One of her senior officers, a Nagai woman named Kiela entered the room and Olivia gave the woman as much of her full attention as she could manage. "Excuse me mam, but the officer of the watch needs you on the bridge." She said simply. "What's wrong?" Olivia asked as she stood from the desk and clutched her helmet in both hands. "Sensor anomaly." Kiela said as Olivia donned her helmet and followed the lithe woman from the room.
"And you're sure it's coming from Mandalore?" Olivia asked the senior sensor operator as she stared in disbelief at the data herself. "Yes mam." Said the big Tof man that dwarfed his work station. "Hyperspace beacon of incredible strength sprung up a few minutes ago. Nav Computer puts it right where Mandalore should be. It's still going strong, but it's fluctuating like it's going to burn itself out at any moment."
"I-" Olivia began, dwelling on the idea of returning to that distant world where she had been raised a lifetime ago. The hallucination she had experienced a few minutes ago tugging at her in a way she couldn't explain. "I think we need to check this out." Olivia said at last, still trying to fight the idea even after she said it. "Right now, while that beacon's still lit."
All around her, the bridge crew spared glances at one another. Silence and the weight of the words lingered in the air. Tof, Nagai, Human... the vast majority of her crew were Besh natives and had only heard mythical tales of the homeworld of the cult of the Resol'nare. Even the surviving members of her clan spared glances with one another, the thought of finally visiting their long lost homeworld seeming too impossible to be true. But all of them were aware that the trip would likely delay their search by weeks, if not months. "Mam?" Began Kiela, but Olivia simply waved her concern away.
The princess could wait. The Tof Kingdom could wait.
Manda'yaim called to them.
"We'll leave the bulk of the support fleet here with an escort, but I want us moving on Mandalore immediately." Olivia said as she stood straight and stepped away from the sensor officer's station. "Navigation... warm up the Hyperdrive and open a wormhole."
"Aye Mam." Said a Nagai man as he worked the controls. In the digital viewscreens the lined the command deck, the stars twisted and rushed towards a singular side as the massive flagship turned in space and pointed towards the home of all Mando'ade. A beam of energy spat out from the prow of the metal beast, and a hole in reality sprang to life in the black of the void. A few minutes later, after the rest of her fleet had filed past her flagship and dove bravely into the anomaly, the Morut be to Kyr'bes slid into the the hole in space and time.
Shields were the first to come online for many of the Sith-Imperial Armada, nevertheless, the Mandalorians were swift in their response. Several of the lead ships took direct hits from the missiles fired, the smaller escorts crumbled in the blast radius. A sacrifice many knew they would have to make, a hit on the nose as the Mandalorians engaged the Sith fleet. Death from above, as the rocky cargo looked to find purchase on the surface. Fighters were scrambled, and so too were the Sith-Imperial Starfighter Corps deployed, as the fleet moved to engage the Mandalorians. Weapons, engines now all online as the Armada and the Starfighter Corps settled in the black. This would be a long fight, and it did not go unnoticed by Commodore Almeyda of the 4th Fleet narrowed her gaze.
Damage reports were coming in, the HIMS Amazon had been severely damaged while the Aeacus destroyed outright, just two of the many smaller capital ships that had been destroyed - which meant a loss of escorts thus the Sith-Imperial Armada would have to hold in close as reinforcements would soon arrive. Almeyda's job here was to hold for 7th Fleet and 2nd Fleet both of which were delayed by a direct order coming from the Emperor himself.
Among the Starfighters launched, would be Air Marshal [member="Ishana Pavanos"], a veteran of the Great Galactic War and most recently Pantora. She and the members of her Ghost Squadron would deploy from the lead vessel HIMS Redoubt, a Resurgent-class battlecruiser, the Ghost Squadron would be out in the Empire's newest interceptor the Tuk'ata-class. Other strike craft would accompany the interceptors as they moved to engage the Mandalorians. Almeyda looked at the information presented to her regarding the ships she faced, as sensor scans swept the area collecting data on the ships that now opposed the Sith Empire. Weakened but not completely destroyed two Athena-class vessels, HIMS Adrestia, and Angelos they were positioned near the Redoubt.
The Redoubt's crews acquired targeting solutions, hypervelocity cannons began to take their aim forty-eight guns made their presence known, the Mogh II. Forty-millimeter shells made of depleted-baradium casings, packed with shaped charged ball bearing rounds making for an effective anti-aircraft weapon. Added to this were the gun crews on the Caeculus HVCs, making use of the smaller caliber solid slug shell as they looked to pick off whatever the Mogh's did not work to eliminate. In the fight alongside the Redoubt and her Athenas, were relative newcomers in so far as Almeyda was concerned. Members of the Sith-Mandalorian clans arrived on Whetu, Marama and Ahi-class vessels.
HIMMS Warhawk the lead vessel of the four Whetu's present fired its mass drivers in the direction of the Mandalorian fleet. Firing their Bellona Mass Drivers, 152mm depleted-baradium shells packed with shape charged led armor cap rounds. Their aim would be for the lead battleship, the Warhawk's siblings - would follow suit having learned of the retribution shields their opponents packed the hard way. An attempt with turbolasers proved damaging - something neither the Warhawk nor her escorts could afford. They passed through the debris that had been the Aeacus, and a grouping of Tachys-class pursuit corvettes that could not get out of harms way fast enough.
In a three to one ratio, the Maramas were seen alongside the Whetus. The HIMMS Mynock and Manka Cat were the co-leads for the grouping that would push forward with their seismic charges, looking to clear out any starfighter that dared approach. They too packed hypervelocity cannons of which included the short-range variety. Their goal here was not to outright destroy the Mandalorians but do enough to pull the fleet toward them. All the while the Ahi ships, made their move toward the planet - stealth systems engaged. There were only three Ahi's present, the HIMMS Akk Dog, Arachne, and Albek each one carried twelve swoop bikes.
After Action Report:
4th Fleet suffers losses from Mandalorian counter-attack. Redoubt returns fire using kinetic weaponry. Warhawk leads the charge, with Mynock and Manka Cat in tow. Akk Dog, Arachne, and Albek's stealth systems engaged, moving en route to planet side. Group Warhawk, along with groups Mynock and Manka Cat engage Mandalorians. Rotary hypervelocity cannons now firing throwing down anti-starfighter (aircraft) fire.
4th Fleet: Task Force 48
HIMS Redoubt, Resurgent-class
Battlecruiser: SP 2916 / HP 2916
HIMS Adrestia, Athena-class
Frigate: SP 450 / HP 450
HIMS Angelos, Athena-class
Frigate: SP 450 / HP 450
HIMMS Warhawk, Whetu-class
Frigate: SP 320 / HP 320
HIMMS Woolly Veermok, Whetu-class
Frigate: SP 320 / HP 320
HIMMS Wingmaw, Whetu-class
Frigate: SP 320 / HP 320
HIMMS Watchbeast, Whetu-class
Frigate: SP 320 / HP 320
HIMMS Mynock, Marama-class
Corvette: SP 144 / HP 144
HIMMS Maalraas, Marama-class
Corvette: SP 144 / HP 144
HIMMS Mantorr, Marama-class
Corvette: SP 144 / HP 144
HIMMS Malklock, Marama-class
Corvette: SP 144 / HP 144
HIMMS Mastiff, Marama-class
Corvette: SP 144 / HP 144
HIMMS Miridon, Marama-class
Corvette: SP 144 / HP 144
HIMMS Manka Cat, Marama-class
Corvette: SP 144 / HP 144
HIMMS Murra, Marama-class
Corvette: SP 144 / HP 144
HIMMS Modrol, Marama-class
Corvette: SP 144 / HP 144
HIMMS Mantigrue, Marama-class
Corvette: SP 144 / HP 144
HIMMS Malia, Marama-class
Corvette: SP 144 / HP 144
HIMMS Mawvorr, Marama-class
Corvette: SP 144 / HP 144
Cohort: The Sith Empire
Adversaries: United Clans of Mandalore | [member="Mig Gred"]
Tranquility rivaling that of the most resolute had descended upon the Dark Side Ronin's mind. The sheer power now leveraged against the United Clans of Mandalor was something to behold, not only in the physical realm of soldiers, ships, and weapons but in the ethereal plane as well. The moment was familiar. Of course, Hakai had never been in a situation like this. Part of an invading force with the weight of a government spanning thousands of systems - but yet it was familiar. Akin to the soft drizzle of rain before a cataclysmic thunderstorm. It was less observation and more of a subtle cackling of energy in the air, a feeling that permeated him to the bone.
From where he was seated he could see the stars through the viewport of the Oni's cockpit. Like the rest of the assault force, the KR-TB's engines had been disengaged and all non-essential systems deactivated. Even the life support had been scaled back to an extreme minimum. Another reason for the man's statuesque visage - the less oxygen he consumed the lower amount of energy the life support systems would in turn. Ultimately, it mattered little and in short order that light drizzle had become a monsoon of activity. Not as near the forefront as many of the SIth Empire's ships, the Oni had taken longer to boot up her systems, several fragments of debris from explosions ahead scarring her double layered plating. Despite the sound of new alarms Hakai remained calm, eyes carefully analyzing the rapidly evolving battlespace. Missiles, lasers, starfighters, and debris now cluttered the viewscreen, that peaceful calm and tranquil coasting come to an end.
Hakai hadn't come for the purpose of aerial acrobatics, nor to tangle in the affairs of the Sith Empire's Admirals. His focus had been drawn groundward, towards the surface of Concord Dawn and unto it he descended. As the hull of the Oni arced towards planetfall a tight grimace spread across the man's features. In the wild fray erupting around him it would be easier to slip past the battle lines unnoticed, or at least with minimal harassment. Or so he thought. Several moments later he found his assumption false. *That is precisely what I deserve for presuming to know this enemy.* he chided himself. With a muted *Thump thump* and another cacophony of alert alarms, Hakai's lips twitched. They were taking fire. From where exactly he couldn't tell and in the melee that was open space it could have even been fire from the Empire's own ships if he'd mistakenly crossed a firing lane. Another spattering of thumps against the hull told him otherwise. Some adventurous Mandalorian had no doubt seen the wide wingspan of the Oni and decided it was a target of interest.
Activating the ship's self defense systems, a knowing smirk rest upon Hakai's features. If the tenacious pilot knew what was good for him, he'd turn tail and find an easier target once he met the first volley of the vessels weapons. In the meantime however, Hakai had located his own point of interest. There below lay what appeared to be a cluster of ships still landed. *Odd* he thought, considering most ships should have been gone by now, or taking part in the combat above. Taking a closer look he noted the way they were laid out, as if they were in the process of evacuating. A crooked sneer twitched at the corner of his lips. The Emperor's instruction as to how Mandalorians should be treated were anything but ambiguous. Allowing adrenaline to begin seeping through his body, Hakai angled the wide vessel towards what appeared to be a homestead of sorts. *A ripe fruit for the taking.* he thought to himself.
Above the homestead, the wide silhouette of the Oni would cast a shadow across the ground as it bore closer and closer. "Ataedias!" his voice carried over the intercom of the ship. His personal retainers would be ready to disembark as soon as they arrived - woe be to any who stood in their path.
Valin was unperturbed by the appearance of his Overseer Darth Morbus, while he had met the half dead Twi'lek Sith Lord in the Jen'Vikas temple. He almost laughed when the man said do not try to kill him. Of course the newly Jedi turned Sith had been thinking of killing him. It was the way of the Sith, the nature of the dark side for the Apprentice to rise and kill their Masters to gain his place within the Sith Empire, but the young man had not even earned his Lightsaber yet. He would wait until such a time was right but at the moment listened closely to the Master, nodding. "By your command my lord." He said as the Sith Lord went into a deep meditation when the Crystals were activated.
The power of a Sith Meditation Sphere was unique, as he heard the possibilities for these relics of the past was legendary, any weapon could be gained from the sphere. Battles can be won from the power of one, armies created in mass number to frighten the enemy, or even the allies bolstered with hope as they attacked the enemies before them, the enemy fleeing in terror their morale broken by a single will. While Valin's own powers were growing. He would test them in seeing the Sith conquer Mandalore. The Wolf will fall before the Lion, if they will not kneel than they will be destroyed. The weak shall bow before the strong. Such was the way of the Sith.
Watching out of the transparasteel window, watching as the Sith Forces were entering the system, moving to engage Mandalorian Forces, The young Seer settled into his own uncomfortable form, crossing his legs he concentrated, with the own amulet around his neck. He concentrated deeply into the Force. Following the pain from his own body, working with the powers of the Meditation Sphere. He started to focus. Concentrating in tandem with Morbus as he would summon illusionary armies, Valin on the other hand would work to sew doubt within the Forces of the Mandalorians, reaching into their minds even casting just a shadow of a doubt would be enough. While bolstering his Sith Brothers aiding them in their plight as they move to siege the savage warrior like people.
He had seen it all weeks prior. Even now as he worked to provide strength and unwavering devotion to the Sith to keep on fighting, to not stop until the Mandalorians had surrendered or won on a mountain of Beskar Helmets, until the city of Sundari was all but rubble. Soon the Mandalorians would know the might of the Sith Empire and the long hand of it's Emperor. He said this to all Sith fighting on land or in space. "For your Empire, for your Emperor, victory or death! victory or death!" He said within the powers of the Sith Meditation Sphere giving him a long reach all across Mandalorian Space bolstering the will of his people. Nothing would stand in the way of his Masters conquest. He would make sure of that.
Her brow was furrowed and her lips pressed thin in an expression of impatience. She did not like the waiting. She hated perching on board a ship as it glided through space with neither shields nor weapons armed. She detested the quiet of it all. So she broke the silence with the chiming of her black plate, rhythmically chanting its metallic tune while she paced. Zaudraka rested at her hip, swaying back and forth with her stride, dormant, quiet.
“Yes, yes, it is all in order.” “I just hate the wait.”
She stopped, heels meeting as she covered her face with her hands, then ran her fingers through her hair and exhaled through her nose. A handmaiden approached with a cup of water. Joycelyn took it and drank it in a single gulp.
Just as she swallowed, the lights changed. Klaxons ripped the silence apart. That was the signal she had been waiting for. Joycelyn practically jogged, only stopping to take the long, silver pike from its stand.
A short hallway brought her to the hangar bays, where the legion, her legion, was rushing on board their shuttles. Armoured legionnaires and monstrous graug forming one of the many compositions the Imperial Legion could take. There were also ships filled to the brim with machines of war, walkers and artillery, ammunition and medical equipment.
Armada booted up ships and armament, and scrambled fighters to strike back at the Mandalorian defences. Meanwhile, Joycelyn practically bounced on board the head shuttle of her landing party. There were fewer troops on board her shuttle, but a group of crownguard clicked their heels together as they straightened up in salute, and a large beast lazily turned its head to look at her, then nestled its nose under its wing again.
“At ease.” She waved a hand at the crownguard and turned her attention to the kakdijs zuta “Winos, dridira. Kam zo manatsa.” The fellbeast looked at her again as she put a hand on its neck “Tuti j'us drasi an kirai?” “There you are.”
The sithspawn started to rise and wake to her words as the shuttle left the ship and fleet. The shuttles left the ship and sailed toward the planet’s surface. The shuttles fanned out, making themselves more difficult to target and casting a wider net upon the planet. The battle had begun and the Sith Empire had made their intentions toward Mandalorian Clans clear: If Mandalore could not defend themselves, then they were not worthy of the alliance. Now, Joycelyn would usher their ultimatum to Concord Dawn.
Darth Raptious appraised the assault with fervent glee aboard the bridge of their ship, watching as Mandalorian ships burst into flames, their frequencies alight with scrambling voices and screams of fear and confusion.
Soon, Mandalore's planetary shields would fall and the Sith would make landfall in mere hours, slaying all who came before them. It had to be this way. It had to for the Sith Lord. If anyone could give the Sith Lord the fight they desired, the death that would prove them wrong, it would be the Mandalorians.
Long had Raptious studied them to understand their machinations, their way of life, their skills. Many had Raptious seen in combat upon worlds such as Nar Shaddaa and Hutta, and in the deep places of the Galaxy in the Unknown Regions and Wild Space. They were magnificent in their art, even the lowest of the clans. Each one was unique, defined by their own glory, defined by their own person and beliefs.
They were Mando'ade.
And Raptious would fight them. They would fight for all they possessed in themselves. And they would either win the greatest fight of their life. Or they would lose and be at rest at long last.
"Lord Raptious," Tyths Lore suddenly squawked next to the Sith Lord, hands tucked behind his back. "Should we prepare our soldiers for planet fall? It is-"
"Yes, but...no. Get them outfitted. Get them into the hangars. All of them amongst our ships," Raptious turned to their second and smiled under their helmet. It was a genuine smile, not for the man they looked upon, but for the violence ahead. "We will touchdown soon. Has anyone responded to our challenge?"
The mustached man shook his head and sighed with legitimate distaste at the lack of response for his Darth, "None yet, my Lord. I believe most worthy competitors are on the planet itself."
The Sith Lord frowned and removed their helmet, the frustration causing them to sweat and desire true air. Their long hair, white as cleaned bones, flowed free from the constraint and their pure amethyst eyes glowed with augmented power, yet their face, bony and sharp, was contorted into a begrudgingly understanding frown, "Yes, that makes sense. Who else has made a point of targeting New Keldabe?"
"I believe Darth Vitium and Lord Tehkyram, Lord Raptious, if the notices the Emperor sent out were anything to go off of."
"Yes...contact them. I would coordinate the plan for our assault on New Keldabe."
The Dark Side was strong in this moment, its shadowy energy permeating the Mandalore system like a vile infection. It radiated outward from the dreadnoughts of the Sith Empire, blackened shadows that slunk villainously against the backdrop of Mandalore's primary star like a cancerous blot; a tumor warping and twisting life and space around it. Ahead of them all sailed the Behemoth, a thousand smaller vessels orbiting around it like it was its own celestial body. Though it had not yet engaged, it nonetheless was poised to strike at any target it desired with its incredibly powerful prow-mounted superlaser.
Aboard the command deck of the Behemoth was the Sith Emperor himself, having recently been joined by many of his kith and kin. His son Constantinius stood to his left, a towering brute of a man even larger than his father; to his right stood Vaulkhar, one of his many legitimized bastards who stood many leagues shorter than both his half-brother and his father. A holographic image of the sellsword Alkor Centaris stood before him, wreathed in a ghoulish cerulean light. The ancient Kezeroth the Hateful emerged from the gloom behind the throne, his words brusque yet his mind alight with visions of death and destruction. An excellent instrument of war.
Further behind the throne were beings that looked out of place among the towering Lords of the Sith and their grim-faced servants, women of short stature that burned bright in the Dark Side of the Force despite their benign appearance.
"You have my leave to conduct your investigation, Obsidian Lord. But do not let it distract you from the true task at hand, there can be no hesitation with what we do here today. Resolution and conviction in our will and the tenacity to carry out the necessary actions." The Emperor's eyes, one sulfuric and the other cold jade, fixated on the towering Gen'dai butcher, "I charge you with destruction, Hateful One. Let your remorselessness hone the edge of the Empire's blade as it thrusts deep into Mandalore, I do not want them defeated I want them broken forever. We cannot afford them the spirit to rise again, this will be the end."
"My Emperor, the weapon is ready. The target has been identified and vector has been charted." Arose a voice from somewhere in the targeting pits that dipped below the command walkways, all eyes now drawn to the forward viewport with a mixture of anticipation and anxious hunger.
"Very well, you may fire when ready."
Fateful words.
The orders were relayed through encrypted communication channels, traveling down the bridge and towards the fire control deck located near the prow of the dreadnought. Stern officers dressed in all black, their faces concealed by protective clam-shell reflective helmets, began to operate the vast quantity of controls necessary to harness such volatile energy. "Commence primary ignition," rumbled the firing overseer, his constant presence looming over all.
A planet's worth of destructive energy was routed through a multitude of power conduits, viridian energy generated by Isotope-5 power generators coursing through kyber crystal focusing lenses until refined into a highly volatile and hyper-condensed state of being. Harnessed in bleeding edge containment fields, the energy was then pooled and released in a single instant through a reinforced firing emitter located at the very tip of the dreadnought's prow. The energy was released with such force that it actually pushed the dreadnought backwards through space, only minutely but enough to be noticeable by keen observers.
The solid beam of destructive energy soared through the empty vacuum towards the planet Mandalore, moving down a linear trajectory calculated by the dreadnought's massive targeting sensor arrays and through the empty gaps in the Mandalorian fleet. It's only target was the planetary shield surrounding the planet and preventing any large-scale planetfall from the invading fleet, pinpointed at such a position that could overload and knock out portions of the overlapping shield defense.
In theory, creating a hole large enough for the Sith to disembark their fearsome Legion.
Constantinius watched on with interest as the full might of the Behemoth was brought to bare upon the enemy, it's massive laser unleashing a torrent of fearsome firepower upon their shield grid. It would only be a matter of time before they could launch their ground invasion. Noticing the arrival of his brother Vaulkhar, a smile formed upon Constantinius's lips. "Ahh, brother! It is good to see you'll be joining us. We shall spill much Mandalorian blood together, I'm sure.", he said, moving over to pat him on the shoulder in a brotherly manner, though not too hard considering he was wearing powered gauntlets. "I'll watch your back, and you'll watch mine, mmh?"
He then looked to the new arrivals. Samka had entered the bridge, with....a little girl? Perculiar, Constantinius thought to himself, though, there was no shame in training the young to fight through first hand experience. Every asset must be used for the benefit of the Empire, after all. At least that's what he told himself. His attention then turned to his father, whom he spoke to. "Troop preparations are complete, as you ordered, father. We shall be ready to launch the ground invasion as soon as their defensive shields go down. Will you be joining us in the field on this momentous occasion? There is much Mandalorian blood to be spilt as recompense for their weakness.", Constantinius said with a grin. One of many things they could all enjoy as family, the elimination of their enemies in true Zambrano fashion.
[member="Darth Carnifex"]
[member="Vaulkhar"]
[member="Funami Teriyaki"]
[member="Samka Derith"]
[member="Kezeroth the Hateful"]
With the slightest twinge of hesitation, the pink-haired Sithling peered the brunette’s way. She seemed young in years, but still clearly older than her. Funami hesitated some more. The kind invitation sounded almost too good to be true and Sith were known for trickery. Turning to the officer again, the little Sith discovered the brunette’s words truly carried enough authority to grant her entry. And then the child began to walk. And she walked slowly at first, tentatively. But then she began to grow in confidence and strength, holding her back straight, for she realized her own power and acknowledged the invitation presented a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
“Wow,” the stray Sithling muttered under her breath, wide eyes gawping about with the boundless awe of a child taken to a toy store. The ship’s bridge was vast, big enough to be a concert hall.
An indescribable sensation lit up at the back of her mind and sent shivers through her underdeveloped body. The cold crawled deeper under her skin, yet the room’s temperature wasn’t to blame. Taken back and blinking in surprise, she froze for the tiniest fraction of a second before resuming her journey through the bridge-turned-throne room. The feeling grew stronger with each step, almost vibrating in her skull. It was driving her mad. Given her woefully lacking ability to sense through the Force, Funami had not realized it to be the combined presence of the emperor and his mighty companions.
She swallowed her complaints and focused on basking in the emperor’s magnificence. Everyone appeared tall from Funami’s vertically challenged position, but the company present even more so. She had expected the most powerful men in the galaxy to be particularly imposing, but never like this. How to best approach them, Funami wondered as her feet padded forth, when the gathering of established manipulators and ruthless killers had clearly spilled entire oceans of blood in their lives and she had yet to snuff out another sentient being’s life with her bare hands.
All her accomplishments and petty schemes suddenly felt completely insignificant. The ongoing competition between the five clones of Funami Teriyaki? Irrelevant. Papa’s inheritance? Worthless. Atrisia’s political intrigue? None of that mattered in the grand scheme of things, for now she saw where true power lay. Craving the dark and witnessing the Sith emperor in person caused her harmless childish hands to clench into petite fists. She wanted it. She wanted it all.
Adopting a serious expression and holding her gaze cool and steady, the tiny Sith positioned herself near the nice woman who had invited her in. While pleasant in demeanor and appearance alike, Funami did not fall for the deceitful lie. She, too, knew the power of innocent smiles and big puppy-dog eyes. Although new to the Sith, the Atrisian was by no means new to ruthlessness and cunning. She was willing to bet that behind the innocent face was the mind of a calculating monster.
But she played along, feigning ignorance for the time being. Such were the unspoken rules between the likes of them.
She leaned closer and felt the corners of her mouth tug upwards.
“Thanks. I owe you one.” She whispered, keeping her voice low as if afraid of disturbing the man on the throne.
And then her posture straightened and her gaze turned to the viewport. She was still a small fry and the best she could do was to observe and learn from the best.
You may fire when ready.
Her heart fluttered with excitement as she wordlessly watched the destructive display from the best seat in the house. A gasp escaped her when the laser’s vibrant colors practically spilled over the bridge. Sith supplicant or not, Funami was still a child at heart and she had never seen a superlaser in action before. No Holoflick in the galaxy could ever compare to seeing the raw beauty of war in person. A hand hastily raced to her waist, frantically searching for the Holorecorder she had brought to record the experience.
This had to be a dream. One she didn’t want to wake up from.
A pair of double doors swung open deep in the cavernous belly of the Super Star Dreadnought Goliath II, a vile darkness rolled out from beyond the doors like a low hanging fog as a complement of crimson, towering Crownguard stood by. What emerged from those doors was death incarnate, a Mountain marred in the scars of a thousand wars, a thousand battles waged over centuries of unmatched conflict. Every scar was inflicted by an opponent long dead, rotting in the ground or their soul claimed by the Reaper to suffer an eternity by his hand. The powerful form of the giant was clad in an impossibly large set of impervium black as pitch. A helmet was tucked under the crux of his arm as he surged forward with purpose, no visible weapon was strapped to him. But the ones who walked at his side?
Monsters.
Osbasid, Member of the Gorebound, Highlord of the Blackblade Guard. The legendary man stood nearly as tall as the Mountain the guards extensive COLOSSUS augments ensured his bodies great size, it was only increased further through the extensive changes brought by his Gorebound nature. Osbasid. A figure whos very name was spoken in whispers a mixture of fear and awe by both imperials and other galactic denizens who have heard of the infamous figure. The imposing figures of the ten feet tall Crownguard towered over them all as they walked. The halls were lined with Sith-Imperials, who parted like the red sea when the Sith Lord passed through. It was a mixture of awe, pride, anticipation, nervousness, and even fear. To see such towering symbols of perfection, humanoids changed so extensively, they could barely be classified the same. The Blackblades, Crownguard, they looked like angels, divine symbols of the Sith Emperor's presence as the one true Sith'ari. In the Sith Empire none were better, none were more effective than the Zambrano Family's very own Blackblade Guard.
The very appearance of a Blackblade was seen as a bad omen by many, for it meant that an explosion of violence was very likely to occur in everything for miles around. These dark armored soldiers walked into the most brutal conflicts imaginable, wading into the most intense battlefields against incredibly dangerous opponents. There was a time when they were soldiers with elite training, but the Guard learned. They evolved with the ebb and flow of the galaxy at large. Thanks in large part to the Blackblade Biomedical Science Corps they became something better. They were designed to outpace, outclass, outperform the best warrior cultures of the galaxy, to outperform the likes of force users, to counter and slaughter Jedi. Highlord Osbasid wore a rather unique set of Blackblade Guard armor denoting his power and position, they distinguished him from the rest.
As the crowds reacted with a mixture of crisp bows, salutes, and other such symbols of loyalty the Mountain paid them no mind, such concerns were beneath the Shadow Hand of the Sith Emperor. "Highlord. Years ago we made a promise to you when Dromund Kaas fell. A promise that the Mandalorian Conflict was far from over, a promise that the guard would bathe in the blood of mandalorians soon enough. It is a promise we intend to fulfill today." Darth Prazutis said as a cadre of Blackblade Officers emerged from the crowd and walked in formation behind the Crownguard escort.
"Orders?" Osbasid said. The Highlord's gaze was meaningful, a nod carrying a great deal of weight as he registered what his master had just said.
"They will bend or they will break. We set their worlds on fire, we slaughter every last one of them until they bend the knee. Either they submit or they will all die." The Shadow Hand ordered.
A set of doors parted and the procession made their way onto the vast command bridge of the Goliath II. It was already abuzz with activity, the crew registering the arrival of their leader, who waved them back to their duties. A vast throne of black iron dominated the center of the room and was immediately taken by the Dark Titan. The guards took positions around him that allowed them to restrict access if needed, without smothering him.
"Report."
"Mandalore is surrounded by a planetary defense shield presently, with three distinct shield gates vulnerable to attack."
"Target the nearest gate, focus fire all available stations."
After several moments the ship beneath him reacted as massive beam of superheated plasma exploded from the superlaser concealed in its prow, a vast storm of firepower crashing into the nearest gate. [member="Alkor Centaris"] | [member="Co[/FONT]nstantinius Zambrano"] | [member="Vaulkhar"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"]
