Dominion Paradise Warfare | Dominion of Ketaris & Vinsoth | NIO

[Djorn Bline]

​

Location: Ketaris; University of Ketaris
Objective: R E F O R M

School's Out
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"Sir, everyone is prepared."

"Well done, Corporal, get back in line; we'll be starting soon."

"Yes, sir!"

Young and enthusiastic was the lad. Probably dreamed of a successful career in the military and continue to enforce Imperial ideals within the New Imperial Order and systems outside of its fold. Djorn only hoped his guts and will matched his skills in combat. He had observed other units within CompForce, and was always disgusted at units such as the 45th. He needed steel...refined steel that was resilient as phrik and sharp as a mullinine edge. Nothing less than that.

Hence the formation of the 71st under his command.

"Gentlemen...and ladies," he started addressing to his soldiers. "I am presenting you a chance to show me how refined your skills in close quarters are. I have provided all of you vibroknives and batons. We will be aiding the students who preach our ideals and accept our presence here against poisoned minds of students who are mind-washed by the false promised of Republics and Democracy. Neutralize them, and you are free to break bones and whatnot. Try not to kill on the spot," but he knew the zealous soldiers in his ranks, especially the younger ones, would love to spill blood.

"This operation is now a go. Fight well."

Through the vandalized gates of the University they entered, marching in columns behind Djorn. They were finding the common grounds of the University where all the fighting was happening. Molotov cocktails chucked at both sides, firing consuming what it could find and students brawling. It wasn't that hard to spot which side supported the New Imperial Order as there was a majority of humans on one side while the other was mixed with humans and aliens.

"Engage."

And in squads the 71st marched on the common grounds, sprinting to support the Imperial students in order to turn the tide in their favor.

Djorn and his own squad had other plans.

"Let's find the staff. They are the roots of this chaos."

Education was something the Coalition for Progress specialized in, and according to the data collected on Ketaris the University taught an agenda that was nothing but a damnation. Xenoarchaelogy, liberal arts, political science (that apparently was biased against Imperial ideals), and many other subjects.

That all needed to cease and desist.

Gender studies? What the hell is that?

 

[Meshla Detta]

Objective 3
Vode An
______________
​

The Vizsla and Detta were fresh from the Invasion of Bastion that is after a short stay, maybe too short, aboard the New Imperial Order's medical ship, Opulence. Hence, why Amon Vizsla was using a crutch to lean upon much to the proud warrior's dislike.

Though still physically weary, their conviction to bring a reckoning upon the Sith Empire was never stronger. They both had good reason to feel that way; he wanting vengeance for his sister, and she for the death of her young child. Together, they would not be alone in this endeavor, bonded by similar burdens the two carried and shared.

The reflection of the fire reflected off her silver T-visor as the flames illuminated the area. The blue-armored Mando listened to the reasons given by the vode gathered. The Mandalorians were basically on the same page... Though, she scoffed to herself when her stepfather, Vilaz Munin , spouted the word redemption. It would take a lot for her to forgive him for his sins against the Mando'ade; more so his own grandchild as the Concordian's actions with the Sith contributed to Valen dying, in her belief.

<"Retribution for my son, then a cin vhetin for our people.">

For me... and Amon.

 

[Hans Rennagen]

ANARCHY ROAD
Tags: Asharo Madar​

As weapons clattered to the ground and insurgents made a run for it, Hans released the man he held. The man ran as quickly as he could to join his fellows as they made for home, hopefully. If they chose to try and combat the New Order on some other street they would find even more difficulty.

Even though Asharo shed a layer of clothing, his mystique grew. Hans was still confused when the man finally introduced himself.

Doom Division. He had only heard briefly of them in the wake of the Battle of bastion.

"Hans Rennagen. Knight-Errant Rennagen, to be exact." Hans took carefully into consideration what Asharo had said.

"Shall we do as we were taught to do?" The cryptic statement departed the Knight with the faintest echo of a knowing smirk playing on his lips.​

"I'm a knight, and we're taught to do many things. Are you sure you don't want to sit for a moment? That looked difficult." Hans was surprised that Asharo seemed to want to continue on to somewhere. He was visibly strained, sweat beading clearly on his forward. Hans' could only dream of using the force in the way Asharo had against those insurgents. He couldn't even execute a simple mind trick, let alone block out volley after volley of blaster fire.

Hans did just as he had offered to Asharo and climbed upon the mangled hood of the speeder that had been thrown in the middle of the street, and took a seat.

 

[Asharo Madar]

IT_GOES_LIKE_THIS
The Silver Savant
ANARCHY_ROAD
| Hans Rennagen |
[ street_samurai ]

​

"Hans Rennagen. Knight-Errant Rennagen, to be exact." Hans took carefully into consideration what Asharo had said, "I'm a knight, and we're taught to do many things. Are you sure you don't want to sit for a moment? That looked difficult."

Asharo quirked a brow towards the Knight-Errant with the question, and it seemed with his mention of it, The Guardian realized he was sweating. A hand raised, dragging the back of a fist across the width of his forehead and flicking the gathered moisture away soon after. "Ah, I am quite alright. My endurance for such a thing is where I shine-" he started to say, cutting himself off as the Knight climbed up and plopped down on top of the damaged speeder. Well, it seemed the decision had been made then.​

With a soft sigh, Ash moved across the span of duracrete and hopped up, grasping his clipped saber as he lowered himself down to sit beside his comrade for the moment- facing the opposite direction to watch their flanks. He reached back around his hip, threading metal fingers towards the small utility pouch strapped to the back of his waistband, rummaging for his cigarette case. A smoke break wouldn't be a bad thing, now that he gave it some moderate consideration. "A pleasure and honor, Knight-Errant Rennagen-" The Guardian finally remarked, offering something of a smile towards the man, "I have seen you around the fleet before, but I have not had the chance to speak with you until now."​

He drew the silver-plated tin to his lap, cracking it open with the cast of his attention to it, and plucked a cigarette from the slots, dipping his head to tuck it between his lips. Pyrokinesis lit it with a whooshing huff, leaving him to nuture the smoldering ember in silence with each savored breath. ​

After he had done this much, he held out the cigarettes in offering for his newfound companion to take one if he chose to. ​

 

[Wilhuff Krieg]

G R A ' T U A _ C U U N
SONS OF MANDALORE
VODE AN
FOCUS | Fenn Stag | Amon Vizsla | Rynn Vizsla | Caeos Prahl | Meshla Detta

​

Reckoning.

Revenge.

Retribution.

All the words were lined in red, blazing with the fiery spirit of each of them. Too long were they the beaten dogs. Too long were they relegated to their pathetic sundering.

It was time to gather this collective sentiment, gather their hosts and voyage out on their journey. Their journey home. A path paved in the blood and fire.

Pooling together this deeply embedded sentiment of the lost, the vengeful, Kestus could only nod as each spoke. He was long past his time of being able to mount his Basilisk before lurching into the fray side by side with the children of Manda'yaim. A fire alight in his heart. His body was marred too harshly and too deep from the Sith undoing of Mandalore to continue the fight that means any longer. He could only ignite the flames in others so that Mandalore could see its once lost glory once more.

<"It isn't too different...between each of us, is it? We've all loved...lost...we've all grieved over the ashes of those we've held so close to us and now its all lost. And a parasite, a demon feasts on our mother worlds. If we are to be Mandalorian again, if we are to hold our heads up in pride and dignity...we need to fight. We need to turn what is merely words into a promise. To ourselves...to them. That we will not go so quietly into the darkness as they hoped we would."> Slowly, Kestus begins to unclasp his vambrace from his arm before pulling with it the crushgaunt from his hand, revealing marred and burnt skin beneath.

Drawing a beskar dagger he hoists his hand up, resting the blade along his palm as he approaches the fire.

<"I ask each of you...to make an oath. An oath...to yourself, to the Mando'ade, to Manda'yaim. That today marks the first that we are no longer hiding, we are no longer the pray, we are no longer the hunted. We will have our vengeance and will kill every last one of these parasites until our home is clean of their filth."> With that, he sliced the knight through the flesh of his palm, clutching it into a fist to let the blood trickle from his hand into the fires.

<"Vode an.">

 

[Hans Rennagen]

ANARCHY ROAD
(the anarchy has been dealt with)
Tags: Asharo Madar ​

After he had done this much, he held out the cigarettes in offering for his newfound companion to take one if he chose to. ​

"Thank you," Hans said taking the cigarette offered to him. He pulled out his own simple lighter made of dull steel from it's pouch on his belt.

Hans smiled. His mother had smoked, although if she had ever caught him doing so she would've given him a good smack. After she died and Hans was thrown in prison there wasn't much else to do in terms of relaxing. The Sith had been stringent with what they let their prisoners have. Hans for the most part had tried to quit, but the New Imperial fleet was far from the place for that. Soldiers smoking was a common thing, and as much as many knights wanted to believe they were above the average soldier, even they couldn't escape a soldier's habits.

"I'm not surprised you've seen me around. I seem to be the one constant thing on the fleet. This is my first time out of there since Bastion, and I ended up on guard duty." he chuckled. He made light of his situation, but deep down he was resentful of it. He had never again seen that crimson stormtrooper who had released him, but it had been the Imperial Knights who had taken him under their wing after Orinackra. They had said one day the force would be strong with him. Now it seemed like they had forgot about him. After today, however, Hans felt as though he was beginning to understand why. It would clearly take a lot more training until he could call himself a fully fledged Knight.

Perhaps guard duty was good for him. After all he was tasked with protecting citizens of the New Empire, and that was the duty of a knight.

He looked up at Asharo, realizing his mind was beginning to wander. "So what brings the Doom Division to Ketaris? And incognito I presume?" He said gesturing to Asharo's clothing which was far from a New Imperial uniform.

 

[Asharo Madar]

D I S T O R T ED
The Silver Savant
ANARCHY_ROAD
| Hans Rennagen |
[ street_samurai ]

​

He looked up at Asharo, realizing his mind was beginning to wander. "So what brings the Doom Division to Ketaris? And incognito I presume?" He said gesturing to Asharo's clothing which was far from a New Imperial uniform.

A nod of the Savant's head answered affirmatively the question he was asked, and he lifted a hand to pin his cigarette between two metallic fingers, ashing it off the edge of the speeder they both rested upon. "Now that we're reestablished within the faction, we do the same as the others; act upon the will of the Imperator and for the good of the people. My lord did not want to tend to this affair personally, thus I was sent in his stead to manage his forces." His answer was a simple one, as he did not feel like boring Hans to death with the details of the argument which had landed him here. "There are a handful of our troopers with the others, working crowd control mostly. However, I was dispatched to behave as the scalpel, more or less." Ash tucked his cigarette back into his lips and straightened his back, resecuring and tightening the strapped belts around his waist beneath his outer layer.

"It has admittedly been some time since I have been sent on a mission as simple as this one, so I welcome it. I had hoped to remain undercover for a bit longer, though I suppose we are all at the mercy of our higher-ups, aren't we?" A wry smirk tipped the vice clutched between his lips, and his next smoky breath carried a chuckling resonance. It was rather obvious the man did not take to idle very well, as he shifted his weight frequently, and fidgeted with the saber clipped on his belt often. There was work to be done, and as much as he was fiending for a smoke, he could not help the guilt which indulgence brought him when there was more to be done. "We'll move North from here, sweeping back up the street. On the way here I encountered large gatherings, so I suspect we may find conflict yet still- mob mentality is rather frustrating that way."

 

[Sargon Priest]

Objective 3

“ Bold wordsss.” A boisterous hiss was projected several meters away from the grouping of mandalorians. The dim setting of the environment off set the inner minute details that reflect off scaly flesh. Two miniature moons took in the light of the fire with a glow till a thin tranparent layer of skin folded over. A blink. White reptilian irises. Stepping into the light the origin of the hiss was revealed in full.

A Yonchorii. His body covered in aged Beskar’gam. Various parts of creatures blended together with minerals from bellow. Bones of a maalraa, scales of zakkegs, teeth of dark wolves and juvenile krayt dragons. It was a amalgamation of abstract beauty fashioned like the past. Before the time of crusades. Apon it all the symbol and marking of Clan Priest.

Roots and tradition. The time for action was now starting for motion. Action the Yonchorri longed for.

Redemption.
Reckoning.
Revenge.

He wanted none of these things. He cared little for a war-torn planet. For far too long the mandalorians had simply settled for what they knew but never what they did not. There was one thing and only one thing alone that he sought after. Domination. In his eyes a fire for conquest blazed. A bloodlust.

Green-ish blood dripped from the large reptilians maw. Closer inspection revealing bite marks on the inside of his own cheek. Stepping closer into full view the Yinchorri spat some of his essence onto the fire. The impact on the flame harsh from nearly eight feet in the air. A Distance to travel.

“ And words are nothing without actions.” He licked his chops viciously with the wipe of his large tongue and forced a exhale through he nose.

@Sons of Mandalore

 

[Meshla Detta]

Objective 3
Vode An
______________

​

Meshla hadn't been this erm what... excited, enthused, driven in a very long time? To be honest, there really wasn't the right word to describe how she felt other than her Mandalorian blood was boiling for a fight; to right the wrongs and serve justice on the Sith for their ill will and treachery. Those weren't even the right words either, but she was ready to do what must be done... to take back Manda'yaim if only on principle (who knew if it was even habitable anymore) and liberate Mandalorian space for their People to rule once and for all.

Stepping up to the fire's edge where Amon Vizsla was leaning defiantly on his crutch, the Detta pulled her late father's Fett Kal trench knife out from its leather sheath attached to her utility belt, then put the blade's sharp edge upon the flesh of her palm and drew down a line.

<"Oya!">

She held up the fisted bloody hand, droplets of red splattering upon the ground beneath, then the blue-armored Mando offered her kal to the Vizsla as he had seemingly lost his own somewhere...

Meshla still curiously wondered if the one Nida Perl had used against her in the Imperial Data Center on Bastion during their short engagement in the hallway before the building collapsed in on itself was his missing one or not. It was a question she would seek and know the answer to sooner than later.

Kestus Bralor | Sargon Priest | Fenn Stag | Rynn Vizsla | Trajan Fett | Caeos Prahl | Vilaz Munin

​

 

[Rach'ta]

Objective: Founding

---

Mor looked between his two former compatriots as they decided to side with this stranger instead of him "You're all traitors. This is exactly what we were fighting against." then there was a near deafening sound of a heavy blaster being fired in a rather enclosed area. The woman lowered her smoking blaster pistol and looked to Rach'ta and Dennan "Your cause seems good as any. I know a gift when I see it." Dennan looked surprised that she had killed Mor without much hesitation "You killed him..." she looked to Dennan and shrugged "We've killed a lot of people Dennan. It would've gone down like this anyhow, you really think Mor was going to let him walk out of here?" she motioned to Rach'ta "What is your name?" the Twi'lek, asked of her.

"Name's Jena, and you are?" Jena asked "He calls himself Freedom." Dennan said with mild airquotes "My name is Rach'ta. and as Dennan eluded to I bring Freedom." Rach'ta gestured to the two healed freedom fighters that warily kept quiet as the scene unfolded "And healing. I have given a second chance to both of your friends and Dennan here. I assume you mean to follow me as well?" Jena holstered her blaster and put a handout "Sure." Dennan looked between Rach'ta and Jena as Rach'ta took her hand in his and shook on it "I mean, I hope this works out Jena." he made a silent observation at her ability to drop one cause for another so quickly.

Rach'ta put his hands out to his sides in a welcoming gesture as he turned to the two others sitting on the floor and the third who was still asleep but now being tended by the medical droid "You have taken the first step in the journey to true liberation. At my side you will find solace in your passions. Use the fear of returning to this moment, to this war-torn hovel, to fuel your desire to succeed."

A few hours later Rach'ta was accompanied by around eight former-militants along with Dennan and Jena, all making their way into a civilian sub-orbital transport. The prologue of Rach'ta's power-base had finally come to and end.