Dominion Sunsworn Pact | Dominion of Thyrsus | NIO

[Rika Hiro]

​

Tag: DECEASED Erskine Barran

​

"Well met, Mr Barran."

Though they hadn't met before, she knew all about him and his superior and their Galidraani movement. Tals enigmatic gang of anti-Sith Imperialists had made quite the waves in recent months, capturing the hearts of many sympathisers both within the order and outside it with their displays of heroic bravery in the campaign against the Sith Empire. Tal had become the darling of the media and the broader independence cause, a perfect candidate and prop for the order in their war against the Empire. Though as it came to be with any loose faction within the Imperial hierarchy, Compnor had its interests within the future of Tal's movement and their real plans for a post-Zambrano Galidraan. She helped herself and sat down on the chair opposite directly facing the Galidraani, taking off her sunglasses and folding them before placing them on the desk.


"You and your leader has proven to be of great interest to us Mr Barran, and I do hope I haven't caught you at an inconvenient time," Asa offered the older man a reassuring but faint smile, placing her agency badge in front of him on the desk.
​

"I must say though, you've made quite the impression." ​

 

[Vhainesco Farr]

|| COMBATANTS: Noel Strasza | Hans Rennagen | FN-999 Areyon | Julian Qar ||

OBJECTIVE I

RAGE OF THE SHADOW WARRIORS​

He was an absolute tornado of beskar and concentration as he made his way through the arena.

The Feast of Blades, an honor to be invited to, an honor for the fallen members of the Sun Guards, though Vhainesco was there for much more selfish reasons. The Feast of Blades fed into an age old Mandalorian tradition that was, by and large, abandoned by most modern Mandalorian faction. The ritualistic combat that was done in service to the God Kad Ha’rangir, though that name was hardly spoken anymore. Vhainesco had taken careful care to collect and preserve all that he could about the ancient, forgotten Gods of his people, and he forged them into his own understanding of the Mandalorian Code.

In the past, the conflict to sate Kad Ha’rangir and to stave away Arasuum would have been theatrical, pseudo-wars that would rage across the worlds of the Mandalorians, at least until the Crusader Era gave them a proper target to direct their bloodlust.

Now? He served Kad Ha’rangir in each step he took.

Standing beyond the breach of the gates that would let the next batch of competitors into the arena, the Mandalorian took the chance to steady himself as the crowd cheered and raged in their seats at the performance of the arena gladiators. Compared to the rest of them? He was an absolute giant, standing at eight feet tall, he dwarfed most of the sentients gathered here even from the distance. He heard the crowd’s mood shift with the combat, with throws of weapons and swings of blades, the rise and falter of their voices let the Mandalorian know that his time to enter the arena would be soon approaching.

He reached down, and took the beskad’s hilt into his hand, bowing his head.

<”O’r gai be Kad Ha’rangir bal Thyrsus.”> He prayed, dedicating the killings to be done in the names of his God and the world.

With the rumbling of drums inside of his head, the gates to the arena slid open as the titan passed beyond them.

The sun, famous on the world, harshly battered down against his red and white armor. Burning through his visor and singeing his eyes. The field was littered with warriors of various creeds and clans, all using various different implements in attempt to bring down their foes. Some swinging like mad-men, other’s putting up proper fights against their foes in order to win the favor of the crowd.

All that mattered to Vhainesco is that there be blood.

One of the proud members of the Sun Guard, seeing the giant enter the field of combat, saw his opportunity to earn honor in the name of his land. The Plasmatic vibrosword glimmered in the man’s hand as he spun the weapon, coming upon Vhainesco from the direct front. An overhand strike came raging down, barely to the Oni’s knee. He shifted his weight down, throwing his hip to the side as he drew the beskad, catching the vibrosword with the draw and slinging it upwards. The sheer force of muscle and size drug the weapon from the Sun Guard’s grip and sent it spiraling off behind him.

In response, the Sun Guard drew his vibrodagger.

In response, the Oni brought the beskad down on the man’s shoulder

In response, a powersuit gauntlet and vambrace clattered to the sand.

He looked up from the falling warrior without a second thought.

<”Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la…”>

He scanned the horizon, begging for more, wishing to sate his God with conflict.

There was a warrior clad in black, brawling with another.

Winning against another.

The Mandalorian brought his beskad up, pointing it at Noel Strasza . Shouting out a call to arms.

<Ne'tra’verd! Troan ni!”>

 

[Hans Rennagen]

The Feast of Blades
Sword, Shield, Outfit
Opponent: FN-999

Hans surveyed the battlefield, trying to find a target as much as he was avoiding becoming someone else's.

He'd never been in a free-for-all, and it was a far cry from the clear-cut battles he was used to fighting in. There were no shield walls, nor line advances. Just warriors swinging whatever they could, wherever they could. Surprisingly enough it was a particular stillness that caught his eye and alerted him to his first target.

A warrior like a stoic sentinel with his sword plunged into the sand. Was that... stormtrooper armour?

Hans was taken aback, though impressed. He'd never known a stormtrooper to wield anything but a blaster. He would relish the chance to test the mettle of the Imperial Stormtrooper Corps.

Dogged by the heat already, he stepped up to the warrior, with about eight feet between them.

"And who might you be, fellow warrior?" Hans raised his blade in front of him for the traditional Makashi salute. It felt quite different without a lightsaber, but it was too late now to back out. He activated his vibrosword to match that of his opponents. "Shall we?"

He waited for the stormtrooper to accept his challenge. From his stance he seemed more refined than some of the brutes he'd seen flailing about on his way into the skirmish.

 

[A.I.M]

Objective 3
Tags: Konrad Bolter | Arjant Holesco
​

A singular AT-AT Walker might have looked out of place in the middle of a Thyrsusian desert, but that wasn't besides the point.

With each step A.I.M. took, the sand would launch off of the ground, leaving small craters behind. This sand hadn't been touched by any walkers in many years, especially not ones with advanced A.I. computers. With careful calculation, A.I.M. was able to plot the most direct course to the two nearby groups, and give the Thyrsusian's the least amount of time to prepare for the walker's attack.

The new set of programming that was downloaded allowed A.I.M. to filter out the heat reflecting off of the desert sands to precisely find the exact location of the enemy. The walker had also been outfitted with a different foot module, making sand travel much easier.

Once the two battle groups were in sight, A.I.M. took his position that would protect him from the most amount of injures, while dealing out the most amount of damage. A small transmission would be sent out to the two commanders of the groups.

//Do_Not_Be_Alarmed_By_The_Walker_Behind_You:\\

//:I_Am_In_Position_To_Fire_Upon_The_Enemy:\\

//:All_I_Await_Is_Your_Command:\\

//:Long_Live_The_New_Imperial_Order:\\
​

With the transmission sent out, A.I.M. began to charge up the weapons. The built in sights were trained on the enemy, seconds away from being fired.

 

[Arash Garshasp]

Arash Garshasp, Stellar Centurion
Location: Thyrsus, Arena
Objective One: Feast of Blades
Action: Watching the Feast of Blades
Outfit

The warmth of the sun covered his exposed skin, like a gentle blanket to remind Arash of what he worships. A reminder of his home. Arash’s eyes gleamed with excitement as he watched one of the battles commencing for their Feast of Blades. The heat, excitement and roars of the crowd nearly brought Arash’s excitement to near unbearable but he controlled himself to enjoy the fights below him. He had made a promise to not enter the battles, mostly to keep himself rested and because previous injuries demanded a bit more time to heal.

Or at least that was what he was told when he had checked into a Medibay.

It was near painful to only watch and for the moment Arash wagered he could at least content himself by simply watching the spectacle before him. But the crowds roared, the cheers and the smell of blood and excitement rose higher with every blow and swing of a weapon. His eyes large so as to be able to catch every moment, his thoughts raced with images of himself fighting. Arash gripped the rail in front of him, his knuckles turning pale as his hands clenched tighter with every passing attack and shout.

Arash hardly cared if he lacked armour, he knew where to find a spare Aspis and Xiphos if need be, and that alone nearly sent him over the edge. If it wasn’t for his own hands vice like grip to the railing he no doubt would have raced towards the entrance to the arena. Taking a few deep breaths, calming himself Arash loosened his grip and sat back down in attempts to keep himself focused. A philosopher’s stance so to speak, in his mind he figured he could practice more of that Fighting Theory that some of his Legionnaires would talk about in their free time.

Instinct was something that took years of training, the feeling of when blade meets blade and that moment understanding the strength of your opponent. Dodged attacks showcasing reaction speed, and most importantly understanding their muscle memory when they either dodge reflexively or counter-attack. Arash watched intently, already the painful words taught to him during his training lessons, the strength of the warrior, the abilities of a hunter, and the will of a survivor.

All their learning, experience, and spirit showcased in mere seconds. Like lighting that strikes, all their wealth of knowledge encapsulated in mere moments before either loss or victory.

Arash grinned madly at the sight.
​

 

[Bastard]

New Imperial Order
Thyrsus - High Council Chamber

LT-137 | Onansi of Thyrsus | Irveric Tavlar | Caarlyle Rausgeber
Enlil | Annasari | Halketh | Rurik Fel
Quinn Varanin | Noelle Varanin | Spencer Varanin

Errant couldn't keep the self-deprecating smile from his lips at the Grand Admiral's choice of words. Hero to the New Empire? Perhaps in the eyes of the unknowing, those cursed to live within the shadow of ignorance, Errant may have been a hero. His sins, though few, were unparalleled. They likened him more to a Sith than a proper Imperial Knight, but this was not the place to discuss such things. The Albino's fight for recognition would prove difficult enough given his heritage and connections to the Eshan throne. His mother had made many enemies, likely more than even the half-blooded bastard could claim after the Order's push through the Braxant. Better to take what little provided him and use it to his advantage. The force knew he needed it.

"While I would like to thank the Grand Admiral for his... kind words," Errant paused, his pale gaze lingered on Caarlyle before finding Onansi. "They are not necessary. I understand what my people have done is deserving of such treatment. I would face such animosity a thousand times over if it would even begin to make amends for the many hardships you're people have endured."

He looked past Onansi, Errant's attention focused on the Supreme Sun Guardian himself. "Such a state is fitting for one of my kin, is it not? In a just world, I would be thrown atop the pile beside my people, left for the buzzards to pick me clean and remove the blemish of my alabaster skin from your people's homeworld—a life for a life. Though, I imagine even death would be a mercy for an echani who walked the sands of Thyrsus. For death is preferred to a life in chains."

"I thank you for the offer nonetheless," Errant dipped his head, respect evident in the Prince's eyes. "My brethren, the New Imperial delegation, know what it means to fight for a brighter future, one free of the Sith Empire's baleful regime. It would be an insult to your people not to recognize what Thyrsus has brought to this war. Your people know this fight better than any other in the galaxy. The fight for freedom, the fight to rid the galaxy of the shadows that creep ever closer, always waiting, always watching."

It felt foolish for Errant to even approach the subject. His words, though genuine, lacked any credibility. Nothing he had to say was unknown, yet he felt the need to say it anyway. If not for them, for himself. Thyrsus deserved recognition. And if his people would not give it to them, he would.

"I thank you for allowing me to sit at this table and negotiate in the name of Eshan. It is more than I, or my people, deserve," Errant tossed aside his gray cloak, his hand finding the table shortly thereafter.

"Eshan is a planet entrapped in darkness. Even before the Sith's arrival, they committed atrocious acts against others to cement their power amongst the Six Sisters. Knowing this, I still seek to right the wrongs of my people. Many are ignorant of this. They live their lives believing themselves innocent because it was not their hands stained with thyrsian blood, holding aloft the whips and chains that battered your people. The people of Eshan must be made aware of the truth. By not taking a stand against such injustices, they share the blame with the councils and queens who led them. I seek, with the help of the New Empire, and Thrysus," he motioned towards the high council, slender fingers open, palms upturned. "To tear this system apart. I wish to rid Eshan of the corrupt matriarchy that has seen so many lives ruined."

Errant leaned back in his seat, back straight, gaze flickering between both Khonsu and Onansi.

"Even now, protected by the Silver Jedi Concord, Eshan lies within the clutches of Sith. My half-sisters, Quinn and Noelle Varanin, daughters to the once Dark Lord, Ashin Varanin, vie for control of the planet. Those who are loyal to the Sith deserve more than death, but an eternity of hellish torment," he gripped the armrests of his chair, knuckles trembling from built-up tension. "I do not ask you to forget what Eshan has done to your people. I would ask- no. I would beg of you to direct your desire for vengeance onto those who would allow evil to grow unfettered amongst their people."

He leaned forward at that, elbows pressed into the table, hands clasped together before his thin lips. "Together, we can cleanse the Crimson Shadow from my home amidst the purifying flames of Thyrsus and the New Empire's retribution."

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

BLUE-HEART BATTALION

OBJECTIVE IV: - BYOO

TAGS: Rika Hiro

'Well met, Mr. Barran.', the unidentified woman replied, with a kindly courtesy that put his worries to rest, though his gut-feeling of being hopelessly outmatched by this individual was still as omnipresent as it was when they first made eye-contact, compounded by the fact her voice wasn't quite human-sounding either. Too consistent, too comms-friendly to be of human origin, though still undoubtedly utilising the human spoken vocal-method to communicate; and it was in this moment that Erskine realized exactly what his new guest was, though the Lord-Major's smirk was still expressed mildly enough to exude a warm, welcoming demeanour for his own sake. Sitting down on one of the chairs opposite Barran's in response, (probably to keep the conversational dynamic as cordial as possible between them) the suspected-HRD removed her sunglasses accordingly, folding them before placing them on the desk in front of her to continue the conversation as honestly as her clandestine occupation permitted.
Lucky man ti be alive.... An HRD, an' close-up like this? How ah'm no deid yet, ah will never know.

'You and your leader has proven to be of great interest to us Mr Barran, and I do hope I haven't caught you at an inconvenient time,', the woman said, pausing to smile politely as she placed her agency badge on Lord Erskine's side of the desk, an agency that had only recently wandered it's way into the forefront of the Major's mind. "COMPNOR", the Commission for the Preservation of the New Order, an agency that Erskine never wanted to aggravate for as long as he lived, but one that had a place in the Lord-Major's heart regardless; the matter of the Dark Troopers on Bastion still clung to the forefront of his mind, though Erskine was still glad to have saved two from horrible deaths in all that madness. The agent's voice brought him back from the flashback of Sith-spawn violence, concluding her introduction in saying,'I must say though, you've made quite the impression.', as Erskine refocused to hand back her agency-badge, placing it right next to the woman's sunglasses before slumping back in his chair again.

'Many thanks for your courtesies, though I understand we're only doing our part. The NIO have stuck their necks out for our sake, so it seems only fitting that we do so for our new comrades at every opportunity. We gave the New Order loyalty in abundance, and now they've given us what we'd been seeking for many years.... Purpose, and a way home.'

​

​

 

[Annasari]

Thyrsus - High Council Chamber
SENATOR OF JAKKU | MEMBER OF THE COMMITTEE ON FOREIGN AFFAIRS
LT-137 | Onansi of Thyrsus | Irveric Tavlar | RIP Carlyle Rausgeber | Enlil | Bastard | Halketh | Rurik Fel

​

Annasari had listened quietly as words were exchanged. It was not her fight, nor the Alliance's. Though they would show support in their ally's endeavors, it was up to the Imperials to decide terms and make their case known. The Grand Admiral's words had spawned a frown on her face, the implications of segregation troublesome. It only grew deeper when the Thyrsians retorted, making their acts of violence known. The senator could not blame them, not truly. She herself had fallen prey to the temptation of revenge many a time. Yet left unchecked, the fuel of hatred could devour a person whole, finding themselves lost in it.

Enlil's words lit a spark of hope, offering a real solution, attempting to appeal to their warrior culture. However, it was Errant's that she could stand behind. A real solution, one that would satiate bloodlust, yet still usher in an era of peace. The senator adjusted to sit up straighter, the golden strands woven into the white dress catching the light with her movement. Clearing her throat, she interjected.

"If I may," She paused a moment, respectfully. "I wish to speak in support of this idea. I cannot say I fully understand the hardship your people have endured, despite what knowledge I have of it. Until I live to experience such a thing, I will not claim to. However, what purpose does this violence serve? Will wiping out the Echani ease the suffering your people have endured, or make them better for it? You weaponized your pain and brought freedom to your world. That, I applaud. I urge you to keep the momentum and productivity of it. Make it meaningful by aiding Errant in his battle. Recognize his claim. Fight alongside him. Make sure the Echani will never touch your people again, without genocide."

A moment of silence fell as she glanced at the knight. In this endeavor, the shame he wore was but a badge of honor, supporting his case.

"I can speak for his character. He is a just soul. The sins of the mother are not the sins of the son. Though he has never played a role in the systematic oppression you all have experienced, he is willing to sit here, covered in grime, to appease your citizens, despite never directly having a hand in the struggle. He will honor Thyrsus' freedom, and make sure those who see themselves as better than you all should learn their place, or suffer the consequences. Like the sun and moon bringing harmony in their tandem rotation of a world, with Errant assuming the throne, Eshan and Thyrsus could do the same for the Six Sisters."​

 

[Noel Strasza]

G O L D E N P E O P L E
THE THYRSIAN HIERARCHY PROUDLY PRESENTS:
THE FEAST OF BLADES
STARRING MAJOR NOEL "DEADER" STRASZA
the N E W I M P E R I A L W A R M A C H I N E
fighting THE LEGENDARY Vhainesco Farr
WITH APPEARANCES BY Hans Rennagen , Julian Qar , FN-999, and Areyon

The Major's steadiness was brought into question as she split from the larger warrior and her world churned, the sands twisting and dancing across her uneven vision as though she had just suffered a massive blow to the skull when no such thing had occurred. Her steps were staggered and uneven, and her opponent took advantage. He lurched forward, blade poised low for a cross strike with full intent to cripple her completely. The hum of such a thing arcing through the air caught her ear and she rocked backward, nearly losing her balance with the sudden shift in her horizon once more. The blade grazed her metal jaw and split upwards, carving a path marked by deep, heated purple through what little flesh she did cling to. ​

The sting earned a deep hiss from one who had forgotten what pain felt like.​

She had no idea where her helmet had ended up in this mess, not since it was kicked off her head mere minutes into the bloodshed. ​

Strasza swayed on her feet, gazing up at the edge of the arena in some attempt to correct her geometry. Precious seconds lost in the name of correcting a mistake she would not have suffered under, had she still been a creature of flesh. The purple rivulets coalesced and trickled from her jaw, dripping off the metal to patter the tumultuous sands beneath her boots. ​

"So you do bleed." The massive Thyrsian she did battle with remarked with a tilt of his head, offering a mere hair's breadth of room before he lunged again. Proverbially, the cyborg was on the ropes. Losing balance in a fight with blades was a death sentence. ​

Major hit the ground as she sloppily dove out of the way, rolling off the soft sands to recover her footing, and she hastily reached up to grope after the switch at the base of her skull, clawing after it with bloodied, sand-dipped fingers as she danced like a drunkard, narrowly avoiding cleaves and swings singing through the air and into her space. A click ushered in the realignment of her vision and the return of her balance and a much more muffled droning in her skull powered down the augmented overlays to her sight. ​

The crimson illuminating her lenses faded, leaving a pale, hollow grey behind.​

She took a steadying breath then, allowing the remnants of her reconstruction to fade from her vision. Without that horizon marker wailing and turning sideways, she found it much easier to focus on one motion at a time. That's all she needed. One step at a time. The cyborg, however, exposed no outward sign of her correctness. Her motions continued to appear staggered and unsteady- dangling bait out for her opponent to take. And take it, he did.​

The Thyrsian lunged forward with his blade poised to cleave once more, rearing it back with the strength of his dominant arm. Strasza gazed upward, gritting her teeth. It was an act. A convincing one, all the same. The cyborg twisted her lagging foot and sprung to meet him, surging with her bladed arm trailing behind her form, concealing the nature of her counterstrike. She twisted by him, pivoting around as his weight and strength carried him forward, and it was with a guttural grunt that she brought her blade to bear, cleaving a massive wound in the warrior's side, earning herself the satisfaction of bloodshed and the collapse of her foe into the shower of his blood freshly soaking the greedy earth. "Cuy ogir'olar, bic ni skana'din." She found herself muttering in irritated response to his earlier quip as she reached up to smear sand into the bloody streak carved through her cheek.​

There was no moment of reprieve, not in bloodsport. Yet she seized one narrowly, turning her deadened gaze to the arena walls, spotting the familiar outline of a very stressed out Julian Qar . She snickered, offering him a brief, two-fingered salute when-

<Ne'tra’verd! Troan ni!”>

The voice belted in her direction and she flicked her arm downwards, flexing her palm to reorient the blood-soaked blade socketed into it back to its original, offensive position.

"Mar'e," she sighed towards the approaching man in her native tongue, flashing a bloody smile. The armored Mando was a whole new obstacle to conquer. "Tion gar gai?" she asked of him, wasting no time then, in her engagement. The Krieg-born commando darted towards him, blade held by her flank, but at the ready. She would meet him with no further words, but rather, the sudden shift of her weight and utilization of the shifting ground. Strasza slid low, aiming to split open the outside of his right leg.​

 

[Rika Hiro]

Tag: DECEASED Erskine Barran

​

"Purpose is good; we are all servants of the order Mr Barran and what we do in this life determines the future of our cause," Asa made herself at home in the chair, fingers tapping rhythmically on the arm of the chair as she questioned the senior Galidraani on the nature of his cause. Barran seemed to be slightly unnerved by her presence. He was justified in his disposition and demeanour; she was well aware of the reputation her badge carried across the galaxy. Death, terror and fear walked in the agencies wake, and opposition spoke in hushed tones and the shadows. Fearing the day the agency would send HRDs their way. Even people within the borders of the order feared the agency reach.


"Though it makes me wonder, how does a Galidraani noble end up on the far side of the galaxy," she had his dossier along with Tals and the rest of them, it helped that their old allegiances kept files and logs on them, "A cushy albeit unremarkable career in the Galidraani state security to a mercenary life and now... this."

​

"Truly remarkable, I'd hope you have your priorities ultimately straight, both you and your leader."​

 

[Onansi of Thyrsus]

Bastard , Annasari , Enlil , Caarlyle Rausgeber , Irveric Tavlar , LT-137
​

"There are some here that will agree with you, all of you."

Onansi's hands rubbed together. It was clear that he was not counted in those numbers. The blood of hundreds, if not thousands were on his hands in the matter of weeks, fighting for the New Imperials. Whether they were Sith enemies, or the Thyrsians who had fought with him, he had quickly come to know that with each breath he took, on that field of battle, he gave and took life. And it was more than seductive.

From his place at the table, he shot a glance at the leaders of his people, the Supreme Sun Guard himself, and then found Irveric Tavlar; the Sovereign Imperator and soon to be leader. Certainly they recognized the power they had. Did they enjoy it? Or did it lessen with age? Would they all become as weak, and craven as the Supreme Sun Guard?

Onansi thought not. The inaction, that was it. As soon as the battle was rejoined, he'd become that blood mongering warlord that had brought them to freedom again, the Young Thyrsian was sure of it. Until then, he had more pressing matters, like whether his aspirations were to be known.

From nothing, he came. Upraised by his skill with a blade, Onansi had made it to this spot off the merits of battle alone. Amongst the younger generations, it was him they looked up to. But in Onansi's case, Khonsu was the man he looked up to, or rather, the man he had been.

"Part of me relishes the idea of enslaving your planet," Onansi spoke drily, his head rotating to find the Echani Princeling and setting his gaze on him. "To make it burn, and bond the survivors with their chains, so that the cold touch of its metal will be the only thing they feel, for a thousand generations." Onansi paused, the New Imperials would never let that happen. His gaze found Enlil, the Warlord of Ketaris. He had fought alongside him on Bastion. The Thyrsian held a respect for the Warlord. "You are right, King. But, the only burying I will do with an Echani, is my blade in their heart."

Once more, Onansi found Errant.

"You wish to be King," Onansi said, the words that flowed from the Echani's mouth, realization striking the Thyrsian. The title was appealing, even for him, a member of a species who had never known royalty. Led by councils for generations, he had grown selfish in his leadership, and he sought it for himself. Single rule. His word being final. Onansi wet his lips, merely thinking of the idea.

Onansi found Annasari .

"You think being covered in fruits and bruises is to gain my respect? His temporary suffering that ends as soon as he leaves?" Sucking his teeth, Onansi looked onwards.

Across the New Imperials he eyed them. "But still, a new Eshan? Rebuilt from the ground up?" The hardened features finally broke. And in their place a bright smile flashed. "That is the best idea that I've heard all day."

"A new Eshan.

Vassal to Thyrsus."

 

[FN-999]

POST: II
EQUIPMENT: In signature, minus helmet & pauldron
OPPONENTS: Dueling Hans Rennagen

THE FEAST OF BLADES
​

He activated his vibrosword to match that of his opponents. "Shall we?" ​

"Of course." was FN-999's prompt reply as he ripped his sword out of the ground.​

Returning the man's salute, FN-999 sized up his opponent. He wore a mere tunic, and his sword and shield seemed to be of standard issue. By all regards, FN-999's equipment was far superior to his opponent's below the neck. A single strike from Iustitia would likely be enough to crack the shield, and the second strike would achieve a clean knockout. But the captain would not fool himself into thinking that it would be that easy.

"Whoever wins this gets treated to a drink by the loser, with the tab entirely on them." declared FN-999. "Good luck."

Before his opponent could object to what the captain saw as an excellent deal for himself if he were to emerge victorious, FN-999 buried his right foot deep in the sand and kicked off with considerable force, breaking into an immediate sprint. While the sand and armor both weighed him down, FN-999's decades of combat experience had given his muscles extensive periods of development, and he resembled a high-voltage blur as he closed the distance.

One meter from his opponent, FN-999 suddenly stopped, once more digging his right foot deep in the sand as he skidded to a halt. Using the continued momentum from his dash, FN-999 swung Iustitia overhead and then delivered a vertical, 90-degree slash directly at the top of their skull.

The strike was not meant to secure instant victory or incapacitation. Instead, while sufficiently slow to counter, the momentum put into the strike combined with the weight of the sword and its voltage would decimate his opponent's stamina when he countered the blow, leaving him vulnerable to a series of followup strikes that would eventually deliver a knockout blow with their weight and power.

 

[Enlil]

T H Y R S U S
H I G H • C O U N C I L • C H A M B E R

​

"There is danger in seeking equity over equality," the King cautioned. He had immense respect for a man who fought and bled for his people; for soldiers were Civilization's last line of defense. A King with no men willing to fight had no force with which to exact the law when it came under attack. Still, there was hatred dripping from the Thyrsian's words, and hatred was too sharp a blade to simply ignore. "Simply to take until you are satisfied does nothing but place the Echani in the same, disparaged hole they had thrown you into. And while that may vindicate you, it only serves to create cyclical strife. A wheel of suffering and inquity, one that will doubtless turn on its head and end with the Echani seeking the same equity you now seek."

Enlil gestured to Errant. "You have before you a man in line to take power and assure that never again will the Echani seek to undermine the Sovereignty of Thyrsus. He would endorse your right to be seen as equals, and never trample over your right to be free again, if only you afforded his people the same. You have the opportunity to put behind you the evils of the past and be better."

Then, he gestured to Onansi. "Consider," he said, "the implications. A potential King to Eshan has called on you, as equals. He seeks to call you brother, and in so doing, would not only legitimize your people in the eyes of those beneath him, but make known to the Galaxy that Thyrsus won their holy war. You rose above the enslavement and torments thrust upon you. It is a spiritual victory, but it is one that stands above any bought in blood on a battlefield because no one needed die to attain it.

It is the least costly victory the Sun Guard, or Thyrsus itself, will ever take. All you need do is cast aside hate."

Onansi of Thyrsus | Bastard | Annasari | Irveric Tavlar | Caarlyle Rausgeber | LT-137 | Halketh​

 

[Lucien Dooku]

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER // WARLORD OF NIRAUAN
THYRSUS // OUT & ABOUT
[VIBES] | [DRIP]

---

---

It was standard affair for his presence to have been requested upon Thyrsus. Irveric Tavlar sought to rendezvous with the High Council of the planet to solidify the relations between the world and the looming New Imperial Order. That came to no surprise, given the proximity of the Order's borders to the world's own. Lucien imagined the end-goal was the full incorporation of the planet into the New Imperial Order, and chances are he was proabably right. The war machine of the Empire needed planets -- and the bodies that came with them -- as much as it needed the materiel to finish out the war against the declining Sith Empire. And Thyrsus contained many fine warriors, of which Lucien had seen more than his fair share among the ranks of the rank-and-file stormtroopers.

His presence being requested aside, Lucien had no intention of honoring the summons handed down by the Sovereign Imperator himself. The Warlord of NIrauan would be present upon Thyrsus, yes, but for his own agenda this time around. It was one that proved undeniably personal, and as such the details remained with him alone upon arriving to the planet. Accompanied only by an extremely modest naval escort which hung in orbit of the world, he dropped down onto the planet with less than a quarter of his Legion. Half a company was all he needed for this incursion onto the surface, to which they would find themselves relegated to a glorified protection detail at best.

His dropship cut a safe path through the skies of Thyrsus, avoiding the opportunity for any hostile encounters to interfere with their task at hand. It traveled fast and low to the ground, only increasing it altitude by just a percent upon reaching the outskirts of the nearby city that was their objective. Coming to a halt once it had reached the city center, the pilot switched the dropship into hover mode and gave its occupants the go ahead to drop. Blast doors unsealed on either side, and through them funneled Lucien and his companions in groups of two at a time.

The inertial dampeners on their jetpacks was enough to make the short fall rather pleasant in comparison to their usual drops. Lucien regrouped with his companions, giving the all clear for their ride to hightail it out of the city's limits until their mission was over. It wouldn't take too long for him to locate the person he was after. Already there were eyes glued upon the Warlord and his retinue, who'd purposefully landed right on the doorstep of the Legion's temporary command post in the AO.

The idling gazes soon began to wane once the Stormtroopers came to recognize their uninvited guest as the Jedi who'd fought alongside them more than a handful of times. A few came to greet him, while others simply minded their business given their proximity to the combat near the front. A few words were spared, but the exiled Prince's mind was focused upon the mission. To the command post he went, but not before ordering his protection detail to hang around, to put it plainly enough.

He was almost expecting to see her, once he entered the building. The familiar colors and insignia of her Legion brought a smile to his face. There were few people within the Order who he'd consider a friend, and even less he'd grew to trust. The Legion's Commander was both, until she disappeared. The details never reached his intelligence network back on Nirauan, and none who he sent out to acquire her location had returned without their hands empty. Others might've given up by then, but Luc didn't abandon the ones he held close to his heart. Even if that meant battling his own demons and her own, he'd keep his promise.

He waved aside an approaching Lt. Colonel, stepping behind the man and proceeding towards the person who he'd came there for specifically. In truth they had never really interacted, but at the least they had met each other in passing. Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt had been their friend, after all. It at least made an introduction not needed to proceed to business. Luc came to a stop once they were close enough to speak normally over the ambience of the chaos echoing across the room.

"Nima." Luc called out, waiting for her to swing her attention his way. He brandished a bottle of Vasarian Brandy once she did, flashing her a smile in the process. "Let's talk in private."

Nima Appw'rii ​

 

[Nima Appw'rii]

G e n e s i s _ A c t u a l

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
THYRSUS
OUT & ABOUT

​

A Legion that only answered to itself, the Captain wished she could say that was the case. A loud clatter sounded as the data pads scattered across the table-the woman had tossed them aside in favor of running both hands down her face. As if she could dredge the stress from her pores in a single motion and she could wash her hands of the post. From the corner of her eye she could tell Archer wasn’t amused, but he had the decency not to open his mouth-no one at the command post would. They all had their own tasks to finish, revolving around the cerulean map and trapped in the hush of concentration.

Her own boots were kicked up the table beside her helmet, a live feed echoed with blaster fire before her and Nima watched the feed idly. Maybe if it had been a higher priority she would have put her boots to the ground, but this was just hunting. The blonde leaned back in her seat as the mission pressed on at the behest of the Thyrsians.

Temporary assignments, Nima shook her head to herself. Maybe it was a bad idea to brush the whole ordeal aside, there was always work to be done. She just hoped this round would pay off, the Galaxy was leaving them short in supplies of people to like let alone consider an ally. A restlessness dogged her and the woman leaned back in her seat monitoring. The feed was glitching out the further the squad develed, blast plate and gauntlets interrupted the play back as the techy adjusted the signal. It’d go dark she bet-It reminded her of the last reel salvaged off the Major’s own gear. She shouldn't of had that access-

This was their top priority?

“Feels like a waste of time right Archer? Certainly feels like a big fucking waste of time if you ask me!” Nima mused, crossing her arms over her chest as she reclined further back-her voice was high pitched, courtesy of the false veins and wires that held her throat together but it always added a certain grating pinch on top of it. Dark eyes traded looks with the Lt. Colonel, the man rolled his own plainly as his shoulders sagged. If she had been a bad influence on Colvy, the woman had been worse in regards to the structure of command within the Legion. It was held together by electrical tape, fear, and one woman who wasn’t even there.

“Right Captain, you sure you want to say that to the two dead troopers?” the dusky man muttered back. Archer stalked around the table leaving her at that, trading hushed words with the aid.

"That's not what I meant," she shot back, the drawl of her words bordered an apology.

Nima deflated when only the sound of shuffling aids and blast plate followed, her eyes staring at the red lines that betrayed the vitals of two soldiers in question. It wasn't what she had meant at all. She knew damn well most missions mattered but everyone else had been content to take orders at face value. Maybe it was just poor timing, fuck. As if they could wait it out here in the trenches and war would continue on. The holo feed erupted in static and the screen flashed white as a stun grenade detonated. She trusted her men to get the job done-didn’t want the work to rile her up any more. Straining the woman leaned forward, refusing to stand to her feet as her fingers strained for the communicator. The silver cylinder brushed her fingers and she grunted before she got a hold on the damn thing.

<<“Genesis Actual to Evil Eyes One confirm your status please,”>> Nima relayed-

​

"Nima." Luc called out, waiting for her to swing her attention his way. He brandished a bottle of Corellian Rum once she did, flashing her a smile in the process. "Let's talk in private."

​

The orders drifted in to silence. It wasn’t a rank but a personal effect and the woman’s neck craned when she heard her name, a thin brow raised as she regarded the interloper. She let out a low hiss, almost impressed looking at the bottle of brandy, Dooku knew how to make an impression. They had half the eyes of the post and if he was as fool hardy as Colvy had described, she bet things were about to get exciting. A grin split across her face at the invitation, rivaling him as she unfolded her legs and rising up in a single motion from the chair. The holo feed was disrupted as she tossed the communicator through it with a subtle jerk of her hand. It clattered into the lap of an unsuspecting Lieutenant.

“Cinn you monitor this-Dooku you can follow me,” Nima slipped past Lucien, patting his shoulder as she excused them without further notice.

The command center’s halls were sparse with personale and the woman moved with a quickness behind each step leading them down to the back observation balcony, the system’s sun was high in the sky when the blast doors hissed open. A orange hue bathing the concrete stretch, the afternoon heat lingering even as the shadows stretched across the city. She jerked a single thumb out toward the railing, walking backwards to look at the Princeling.

“Tell me you got good news? The latest intel maybe? Commands shit and if they can hear me right now they can suck it-” Nima proclaimed a bit cockily, her back hitting the cold safety guard as she rested there. “You doing something about the situation, the Imperator doing something maybe? I’ll do something about it if you tell me who I am shooting.”

Lucien Dooku ​

 

[LT-137]

THE THYRSIAN HIERARCHY
THYRSUS - HIGH COUNCIL CHAMBER

​

Khonsu sighed heavily, there was much to consider - but the words of Enlil struck a chord with the Supreme Sun Guardian. “The last time a member of the Echani Royal Family considered us as equals, let alone spoke of such possibilities, our entire species ended up with a blade in the back. We then spent generations suffering beneath Echani heels as they enslaved one Clan after another. No one was spared from their cruelty; even our children were born with shackles around their wrists.”

His jaw tightened, then. Khonsu’s mind began to drift towards the events of the past and the terrible sights witnessed on the surface of Eshan. While it was true that the Sun Guard won a great Victory against the Echani, the Mandalorians, and even the Bryn’adul, the celebrations were bittersweet. It was in the ruined streets of the Capital that Khonsu and the entirety of the Sun Guard bore witness to the true malicious nature that lurked beneath the near-translucent skin of the Echani people.

What slaves were taken from Thyrsus in the months and weeks before the Battle of Eshan began were butchered in the streets. Their deaths were a vain attempt to resist the coming Mandalorian occupation. Many were outfitted with explosive charges in their slave collars. Many more were sent to fight for their would-be masters, seeking to safeguard their villainous ways of life. Not even the children were spared from such horrid practices. They counted themselves amongst the ever-rising tally of Thyrsian dead.

Their suffering ended when a Mandalorian warship struck the surface from orbit. In many ways, Khonsu believed it was a small mercy compared to being left to rot in the streets by those that claimed they were friends of Thyrsus.

“So,” the Thyrsian Warlord continued, as the sadness welling within his eyes started to fade away - slowly becoming hateful. “You cannot possibly believe that we would be willing to accept the words of this Echani Princeling. All because he comes to us stinking of rotten fruit and bearing welts from casted stones? Such suffering pales in comparison to being driven to the edge of extinction.” His tone started to fill with anger as the man’s hackles rose. “You ask that we put aside two-thousand years of bloodshed for the promises that the Echani never again undermine our sovereignty? So that we may assist in their feeble wars of succession? Don’t make me laugh, Peacock. Such childish notions of peace and prosperity between our disparate peoples will likely never come to pass, not in this lifetime or the next.”

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to raise the Sword and Sun banner again. To gather the Sun Guard once more and march on Eshan, breaking the cycle of hatred and this damned feud once and for all.” Khonsu’s anger began to simmer as the fiery hate in his eyes slowly faded. “But, Thyrsus couldn’t feasibly sustain, nor support another Crusade. Our numbers were too few, and the sands were swallowing up what resources we had left. For eight long years, I’ve endured the scowls of those that once considered me a hero, all because I refused to throw my people into a war from which they would never recover from.”

“They may consider me weak,” He continued. “Or they may consider me a fool for sparing the Echani people from our wrath. But, in due course, they will come to understand the reasons why I kept our might on a short-leash. Through restraint, Thyrsus has risen to become the sole military power within the Six Sisters, as our warriors and navy are without equal. It's only a matter of time before we are ready to make our next move. Our economy has also seen new heights by recovering our wounded ecosystem and exploiting neighbouring asteroid belts. The Sun Forges have never rested since we stoked their fires three years ago. They’ve produced countless trinkets and warships for the Trade Federation and the Republic Engineering Corporation. We have freed ourselves and will fight with every fibre of our being to ensure our liberty is never taken again. We don’t need the promises of an Echani Noble to guarantee our right to rule.”

“Now,” Khonsu stated, as his eyes began to narrow. “If this Princeling wishes to be King of anything more than Ashes, they will need more than pleading words to convince us to spare the people of Eshan from the coming fire. Give us a reason why we should spare your people, and allow you to attempt to redeem two-thousand years of Echani oppression.”

-~-~-

| Irveric Tavlar | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Onansi of Thyrsus | Bastard | Rurik Fel | Halketh | Enlil | Annasari | @Others
​

:// Notable Possessions:

• Khonsu's Second Skin; Anti-Force Biosuit.​

 

[Enlil]

T H Y R S U S
H I G H • C O U N C I L • C H A M B E R

​

He folded his hands and narrowed his eyes. They set on Khonsu with unreadable intent. Ruby flames burned at the man like twin suns, a flame he no doubt would find unmistakable. "I thought to appeal to your sense of reason, but I find that when faced with rationale you spit in its face. The hand was offered," he gestured to Tavlar, "the Sovereign Imperator has given you an opportunity like any other; but I will not insult you by making the same offer a second time. Rather, I will propose an alternative."

Enlil gestured toward Errant this time. "Make of this man your enemy," he said. "Earn the enmity of the New Imperial Order will brazen foolishness. Buy with your narcissism the right to watch your world burn around you, and die gloriously as Thyrsus becomes no more than a memory."

It was not something that the Imperium wanted, but if Thyrsus sought to make unnecessary conflict for them, they were no different from the Sith. An obstacle to be removed.

"You wish for Eshan to burn? Fine. Prepare for two pyres."

He took a breath. "You see, Khonsu Amon, anyone can say scathing words. You may even have the strength to back them. What does it gain you if you only make enemies with them?" The King channeled his anger only to exhale it moments later, utilizing it to do no more than crucify the Supreme Sun Guard's pomp.

To make enemies of them here would serve no purpose.

"Let us dispense with the venomous words, for there is no need for them." Enlil placed both hands on the table in front of him. "I think you are correct; if Errant is to be King of anything, then the burden lies with him to prove his worth."

His gaze moved to the Half-Blood Prince. With a gilded hand, he deferred the floor to the Crestfallen Knight. "We expect great things," he said with a smirk.

LT-137 | Onansi of Thyrsus | Bastard | Irveric Tavlar | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Rurik Fel | Halketh | Annasari​

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

BLUE-HEART BATTALION

OBJECTIVE IV: BYOO

TAGS: Rika Hiro

Seemingly settling into her seat like one of his subordinates would, Erskine studied the HRD's dexterity as her fingers tapped the arms of her seat in rhythmic (and off-beat) succession, uttering,'Purpose is good; we are all servants of the order Mr Barran and what we do in this life determines the future of our cause.', as the Lord-Major clicked his own to turn on the lamps at middling-brightness to counter the dimming effects of the skies outside, glowing from both the corners on Barran's right-hand side of his desk. After inwardly surmising that the Atrisian-looking agent could handle tasks of a more delicate, surgical nature than most of her HRD counterparts, Erskine had come to the realization that droid-technology (and all the supporting research-and-development) had much and more to learn from the HRD concept.

'Though it makes me wonder, how does a Galidraani noble end up on the far side of the galaxy?', the agent pondered aloud, giving an unmistakable premise for the real inquiry she had been trying to get to. Barran sympathized with the HRD on this matter, never one to like the time-consuming nature of exchanging pleasantries, cutting to the chase was always welcomed, especially in times of war. However, this chase that was being cut to was certainly of a contrastingly-different political nature, an eventuality that Major Barran had seen coming Tal's way for a while, as success in the field often equated to increases in social-graces from all corners of the NIO. To make waves in such ways would always gain the attentions of it's quieter, cloak-and-dagger institutions, made more obvious by the agent's line-of-thinking as she continued,'A cushy albeit unremarkable career in the Galidraani state security to a mercenary life and now... this.', with her eyes firmly fixed on his until lazily darting her gaze around the Blue-Heart's office to point out the elevated, consular lifestyle he'd only recently embraced.

Unnerving the Lord-Major further by shooting her glance his way again, as if by an instant between seconds, her cold-eyed stare locked in with Erskine's once more as she concluded her first true line-of-inquiry, leaning in to say,'Truly remarkable, I'd hope you have your priorities ultimately straight, both you and your leader.', before tilting back to make use of the armchair once more. Nodding his gratefulness, Erskine held his hands out peacefully as he pointed to the desk's bottom drawer, slowly reaching for it's handle whilst making an obvious show of avoiding suicide in the top-drawer; allowed to retrieve his hipflask with a blank nod of her own, the agent watched as he closed the bottom drawer and slumped back into his chair, with whiskey in hand.

'Cushy though my early days may have been, I still made enough enemies to somehow earn exile, and through nought but learning to become the best military-strategist I could ever hope to become with Galidraan's limited land-army, a separate entity to the GSS by the way. All put to the test on the outer-rim, I assure you; though proxy-wars, much like service with Galidraan, can only yield a singular brand of opponent, digital, target or dumb! I thought much the same of employers who'd sneer and laugh at my aristocratic heritage, chortling with news of each new overlord Galidraan had rolled over for; yet the last insult for my lot, as some among your caste may know already, was learning that the Sith were rubbing their mucky boots all over Galidraan 3.'

With disdain weighing heavily on his memories, the Lord-Major couldn't help but clench his jaw a little before shaking it off for a drink, unscrewing the stopper and drinking a heavy swig before continuing,'But the NIO never sneered at us, the NIO never laughed at us when news of the Sith's invasions, decrees or triumphs made it past the borders between them. What drew us to this moment ended up being the New Order's recruitment broadcasts, and it was in hearing them after months of radio silence from our employers when we realized that all within the New Order were ready to take the fight to the Sith.... Now, don't get me wrong, I know Tal has a story of his own, but it honestly doesn't differ that much to mine. Only difference is, Tal arrived with more men than I did, and he has his priorities much straighter than mine own.'

​

​

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
THYRSUS
Caarlyle Rausgeber | LT-137 | Onansi of Thyrsus | Bastard | Enlil | Annasari | Lucien Dooku

​

And so arose the ever present tension between Thyrsian and Echani. The New Order transcended this nature of conflict, the brother wars. Both sides would continue to justify their part to play in the symphony of suffering so long as it continued. But it was not in the interests of the Imperator, the True Empire to let it fester, certainly not if both realms were to fall beneath the Iron Sun.

The bickering had gotten elementary. What began as understandable tensions between two groups bound in eternal bloodshed had degraded into veiled slights and insults.

Irveric leaned forward, speaking up with a commanding tone to his voice.

"I will not field any of this drivel any longer. This behavior from the both of you is an affront to your stations." Irveric stated outright.

"Now, I will not stand to waste anyone's time further. Thyrsus, as formidable as it is can not sustain any level of conflict with the True Empire. This much is known, I will not hear any delusions of anything otherwise. However, I have no intentions of altering the course by which Thyrsus, its Hierarchy and the Sun Guard. Whoever rules as Supreme Sun Guardian will be sole ruler of Thyrsus." Irveric concludes.

"Where there is deviation...is the dynamic with the Echani people. It should be known that the New Imperial Order endorses some form of co-existence between the Thyrsian and the Echani. Of course, the Thyrsians have no obligation to allow any Echani to live on their world nor the same in application of the Echani rule. But the New Imperial Order endorses Errant Varanin's claim to the throne of Eshan as Crown Prince, when Eshan falls under the Iron Sun, he will be its ruler." The Sovereign Imperator commands.

"The two crowns under Sun and Moon will co-exist as brother realms within the New Order. However, those on Eshan who perpetuated the oppression of the Thyrsians, will be brought to justice and those who fall in line with Errant's claim will take up their place. This is our stance and there is little room for negotiation within this matter."

 

[Rika Hiro]

Tag: DECEASED Erskine Barran

"Well it pays to learn not to crap in the wrong people's backyards Mr Barran, hopefully in all the infinite wisdom you've learnt from that you'll choose who your real friends are next time."



The HRD smirked and removed her blaster pistol, looking away from Erskine and down at the gun in her lap as she toyed with it musingly. Asa pulled out a little device and fitted it on the end of the blaster and slowly screwed it on with all the care of someone who had plenty of time to spare. She lifted her gaze back up at Erskine indifferently and mused once more before pointing the blaster directly at his chest.


"Now you see Mr Barran, unlike the Sith and that little pygmy thing they call their intelligence wing, I can assure you with one hundred percent confidence-"



She paused momentarily.



"If you stand against us, it won't be your wife's face you'll see when you breathe your last, it'll be mine." she pointed the silenced gun above Barrans head and fired at the wall behind him, the blaster let off a loud click as it fired leaving a small burn mark on the wall. She switched the safety back on and put it back in its holster and shrugged.



"Just like that, I or whoever comes your way will be gone before half of your men realise you're dead."

"It won't be cinematic Mr Barran."​