Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Root of Decadence

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R H O B A R _ I I
Northern Continent
Nalar Sar Bellaraphon Nalar Sar Bellaraphon

Azrael observed the holoproject silently. His sulphuric eyes laying on it, unblinking, unyielding as it displayed first a ship and then a location in the northern hemisphere of his homeworld. Deep in the highlands, between sharp mountains and dark valleys, the enemy lurked now. The enemy he had failed to eradicate so far, their fanatical glimmer of hope and resistance being a thorn in his very side since he was able to understand and define hypocrisy.

With him were his commanders and lieutenants, Wing and Company Masters who were equally silent, waiting for their leader to pick up the voice and determine the course of action. All were clad in the black armors of the Dreadhost, most with red, some with green, some with beige tabards and capes, symbolising their different heraldries and specialisations. They waited for him because his word was the first and final one, not only because strategy was his forte, but because discipline and loyalty were absolute, authority indomitable.

"I will personally lead a strike force North and annihilate these intruders and their supporters. The Sword of Vengeance will move into a geosynchronous low orbit and shadow our path there to remain mostly out of sensor sight, with my Deathwing in reserve."

His eyes moved to find one among the many faces solemnly staring at him, finding the presence of Nalar Sar Bellaraphon Nalar Sar Bellaraphon .

"Master Bellaraphon, are you and your Wing ready to deploy?"

 
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Tags: Amra Sar Azrael Amra Sar Azrael

Today was going to be a glorious day.

Bellaraphon stood with his arms folded across his chest, the obsidian black of his plate partially obscured beneath a tabard of bone white. The winged skull Bellaraphon had chosen all those years ago as his personal heraldry sat at its center, the shape almost glowing with a fresh paint from Bellaraphon's personal serfs. Unlike many of the others in the room, Bellaraphon still wore his helmet, the crimson lenses cycling every once in a while with an audible click as he he recorded the images of the holoprojector.

The hunt would be the first action Bellaraphon had seen since his ascension to Mastery of the Fourth Wing, the Unbroken. Before that he had led the Ninth Company, but the will of the Dreadhost kept Bellaraphon constantly on the move. Today would be his chance to prove his ascension was correct, and earn the favor of the Lord of the Dreadhost.

As Azrael turned to look at him after detailing the mission parameters, Bellaraphon lowered his left arm, leaving his right to smack against his chest in a quick salute. "Yes Lord, the Fourth Wing stands ready to carry out your will."

 
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R H O B A R _ I I
Northern Continent
Nalar Sar Bellaraphon Nalar Sar Bellaraphon

He did not expect any other response, not from Bellaraphon and his Unbroken, nor any other of the Masters assembled. Their conviction and eagerness were only overshadowed by the utter discipline and skill at arms the Dreadhost was famous for. Azrael, despite his holistic view for the greater picture, was not known to lead from the safety of the Citadel or flagship. Hence why he would also lead the mission himself this time.

"The ship is a Jedi craft and we expect the local Defiant Order to have made connections with these extremist monks. It is our duty to purge our world and the shame our kinsmen bring to us for their ignorance and stupidity."

The Grand Master was the epitome of honourable Sithdom, whatever that strange combination was, it certainly was militant and potent. Honour among warriors could be achieved and pragmatism maintained at the same time, the path to victory could be marched on through any means necessary and yet with the standards held high. The Knights of Rhobar knew that war was necessary, but before they became Risen under Azrael, they believed peace was the ultimate goal.

It was not. Order, unity and strength are the only measurements of triumph.

"Prepare your dropships, we will depart within the hour. I will join you in the hangars of the Citadel."

"United in Passion. United in Conquest."

With their motto, they were dismissed and the Knights dispersed, some remained to silently talk about ongoing operations, issues or private matters, others returned to their units.

 
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Jedi.

The word brought a dark taste to Bellaraphon's mouth, and he had to resist the urge to spit the bile that seemed to form in the back of his throat. The Dreadhost were true warriors, dark knights sworn to a creed and service to a greater power. They were warriors, they were soldiers, and they knew what the Force was meant for. They knew the Force was a tool of war to be used against their enemies.

The Jedi thought differently. They used the Force to help the weak and powerless, the ones that were beneath the attention of the Dreadhost. Beyond that affront alone, many in the galaxy still viewed the Jedi as true warriors, the best warriors in the galaxy. Worthy opponents to stand against and earn the glories of victory from. For many years the Mandalorians had thought the Jedi were the most worthy of their attention, and countless wars had been fought.

Bellaraphon knew better. The Jedi were not warriors, they were hypocrites. They perverted the martial honor that the Force demanded of its followers, and for that crime they had earned their fate at the hands of Bellaraphon and the rest of the Dreadhost.

Slamming his armored gauntlet against his chest, Bellaraphon repeated the Dreadhost's oath before turning to march towards the hangar. The other officers of the Unbroken followed after their lord, silent as they felt the radiating anger from Bellaraphon. They knew from experience the foul moods their lord could suffer, and did not wish to draw his ire before the coming hunt.

"Have the Blood Gorgon prepared," Bellaraphon ordered, a nearby servant bowing their head and scurrying off. The Blood Gorgon was his personal dropship, and Bellaraphon was determined to be the first of the Dreadhost to land on the surface of their homeworld. The head of the Jedi would be his to claim.
 

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