Campaign Sympathy from the Devil: Campaign to Bryn'adul-held Ankhypt (Kegan, Kubindi, Lowick, Blank Hex, Ankhypt)

[Ellie Mors]

Sympathy For The Devil

​

00:20
O S I R I S S Y S T E M
ANKHYPT

There had been no warning of the Sith advance. The ships that flooded the Bryn'adul system were not the normal stock the Empire had fallen into reliance upon, and the soldiers that numbered this incursion were a far cry from the average legionnaire. Wo Derriphan led the silent fleet that crawled through the systems infested by the Draelvasier, a fleet made up of the living vessels of the Yuuzhan Vong. The Bryn'adul were a relatively unknown threat to the greater galaxy, a fearsome foe that had scourged planet after planet and sent their inhabitants fleeing out in diaspora - and though to strike at such a vile coalition of destruction could have been construed as a noble effort by some, and perhaps would be in the coming days by the internal propaganda network of the Empire at large, there was only malice in the heart of the Sith that led the assault.

Darth Mori, Thearch to the Sith Empire, stood at the bridge of the massive devourer, the Wo Derriphan, in the guise truest to them. Her piercing red gaze stared out into the wide expanse of space, watching the smear of stars over the organic viewport that separated her and the crew from the cold vacuum beyond with her hands held tightly together behind her back. It had been her desire to cut into the Bryn'adul territory in such a manner, and the manner of their assault had been heavily coordinated by her to ensure there was no repeat of blowhards in uniforms attempting to use their war to advance their careers, and to ensure plucky Sith that wanted to show off were deprived of their toys.

The greater galaxy saw the Draelvasier as a threat to their way of life, to the potential for genocide on an unprecedented scale - a scale that was already tipping heavily into the favor of this war-hungry species. Mori, however, saw them for what they were - a threat to stability. A ruler is nothing without their subjects, a kingdom with only its king is no kingdom at all - or so the saying went. There was no desire for dominion by the Bryn'adul, only the eradication of any that were different in their eternal expansion from the eastern galactic rim to the galactic west. The Sith desired control - and if they were to have let the Draelvasier go unchecked it would mean taking control of a galaxy devoid of meaningful life. Devoid of purpose.

And there is no glory in Death without a purpose.

"We feast, tonight, Warmaster." She said, the streaks of white on a black backdrop slowly compressing and coming into focus as the massive vessel began to drop from hyperspace. "Darkness rides." The Yuuzhan Vong slayer to her right said with a nod in agreement. Like the rest of the murderous extragalactic warriors aboard this ship and all the rest, Mori - Vesta - appeared horrific, disfigured, though perhaps not to such great lengths as the veterans of the Yuuzhan Vong. Still, her visage was fitting for one whose name was Death. "We approach." Came the voice of a warrior standing nearest a choir of villips, to which the side of her face that still bore flesh stretched to a smile. "Then from the pinnacle, to the pit." She said as she turned from the expanding view of the planet of Ankhypt.

"It is time, cousin." Her voice called out, words reaching the ears of Darth Carnifex .

"Time to show them what lies in the abyss."

-

Like locusts the small living crafts descended upon the desert world, leaving behind the great devourer and the rest of the ships that had accompanied them this far as they sought out their prey below. A great superstructure at the heart of the former Anubian homeworld was the target of the bulk of this offensive, but the approach would be made with caution - there was still a fundamental lack of understanding regarding the Draelvasier's methodology of war and their biological capabilities in general. Beyond the superstructure, in the sands and dunes that covered and expanded from beyond its walls, would be the site of the killing fields - the point of insertion for the Sith and Yuuzhan Vong forces to pour in from and engage their alien foes. The term had been coined by the expectation of a sharp climb in death toll early in their engagement from their military leadership.

The goal for the Sith was as simple as it was complicated - to press in from their point of arrival, several kilometers from the western-facing wall of the great installation the Bryn'adul had built atop Tairos, and then breach their walls. Or, rather, that was the general gist of things put into the outline during the planning that led up to this moment. One of the first to descend, and the first to leap out into the sand, Darth Mori - Vesta Zambrano - was surrounded by only a small retinue of Yuuzhan Vong Slayers; in fact, the invasion force that would be assaulting the desert world was itself similarly sparse. In the face of an enemy they did not understand with capabilities they were unaware of, it would not be the fist of overwhelming force that would wedge the Sith into the heart of Drael territory, but rather the cautious and analytical minds leading through strategy.

From the great devourer, the Wo Derriphan, to the soldiers and the Sith that now poured into the windy desert held in a vice-grip by the Bryn'adul, and the alchemists and biologists and shapers that gathered with Taeli Raaf , all in this fight were moving parts in a greater machine that moved in synergy towards one purpose.

To rid this world, and others, of the Draelvasier.

Tathra Khaeus Osam

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Lady Ingrid L’lerim-Ragal
Empress Regent of the Eternal Empire, Overlord of the Eternal Empire, the Emperor's hand
The Red Witch; Director of Blackwatch; Baroness of Vengard, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium​

Location: Surface, Ankhypt
Equipment: 2x Sigra vibroblade | 2x Striith vibrosword | 2x red blade lightsaber shoto | Heilagr MK. I Assassin Armour | Shield talisman | G1 OmniLink | BCR-X10 Sniper Rifle | Empyrean gland | Taozin amulet
Ground forces: 2/2 Smoke demons
Tag(s): Osam

Background music:
Sabaton – Rise of Evil​

Ankhypt was a rather interesting planet, and although Ingrid disagreed with slavery, she only came here because of AMCO (especially if the man also came, because then the woman came with him). Last but not least, she was also curious about Bryn'adûl. Almost nothing could be known about this faction or the species that made it up, even though they were quite important participants in the “eastern” part of the galaxy. And even here it was time to try out her new “compositions” as well.

There were a lot of benefits to dating someone like Adrian. She also had access to quite a few special books and codexes, and of course she learned a thing or two from the man. Ingrid combined these with the knowledge she had even stolen from the Force Entity, so as a result, her practice and knowledge of alchemy, sorcery, and necromancy also improved a lot. Thanks to these, she also made her weapons, armour, or even her two new “pets,” the smoke demons.

It was a huge step forward for her to be able to make something like this because she had never tried it before. And as for the planet, it was specifically for her even more the other half of the galaxy than the Voss, so she brought only a single ship and units on it to assist in the evacuation. And basically, she wanted to see local finds and archaeological things, if only because of necromancy.

After arriving, she also landed on the planet, the descent here was much more pleasant than at previous locations. For the time being, she dealt with securing the scene with her men, as well as evacuating. since everything was fine here so far, though she had a feeling that it was only a matter of time before the enemy would show up. She heard about what they were doing with the occupied planets. In fact, Ingrid hoped she would have a chance to see a draelvasier, it would have been even better if she had been able to prey on live or dead specimens, maybe even take them for AMCO .

​

 

[Adrian L'lerim-Vandiir]

Reidun Amersis
The Little Girl, Zealot minor​

Location: Surface, Ankhypt
Equipment: 2x Barad kukri | Barad Spike Rifle | Barad Special Operations Armour
Allies: Sylok'Vanari
Enemies: Arctus Silmar | Dok Varuut | Darth Acharon

Ankhypt, perhaps not so long ago the planet was occupied, and now Reidun was also here to help defend the huge machine until the terraforming was complete. Fate brought her back together with the strange man she had ever met before, Sylok'Vanari. She still found the other very strange and it was weak in her eyes that the man had learned the language and customs of outsiders. But she tried not to get stuck on this thing.

They knew the enemy was approaching, an enemy the girl had not yet dealt with. She didn't understand much about the Force, but she wasn't bothered by that fact. So far. Now, if all is true, such mollusks will arrive, eager to break their bones and walk a victory dance over their bodies as soon as the sun is over and the battle is over. But until then, they had to wait.

She waited on one of the higher sand dunes, watching the distant, near her, if everything was true, Sylok was there too. Since she did not know any other person who would have been proficient in what they were currently preparing to face, the man’s presence was ideal. At least in what she wanted to ask now. Maybe it will save her life in the coming war.

”What can you know about these strangers who will come? I’ve heard others use the same mystical thing as you. How to defeat them?”

She saw Force Users among members of her own race, she knew what they were capable of, and compared to them she was nothing. But that didn’t mean she didn’t want to beat them.

​

 

[Arctus Silmar]

The Shaper

Location: Surface, Ankhypt

Equipment
The Iron Crown|| Whilstone of Prowess|| Whilstone of Acuity
Whilstone of Power|| Acharn|| Urfael|| Mithralian

Voice Sample

Allies: Dok Varuut , Darth Acharon , @OtherSith

Forces: Synia (Not yet summoned)

Enemies: Sylok'Vanari Adrian L'lerim-Vandiir

The Shaper idly marveled at the living craft this 'Darth Mori (AKA Ellie Mors )' had been so very insistent upon using to transport the invasion force here. The woman's fascination and seeming obsession with these creatures, as well as something of her demeanor, very much so endeared her to him. Perhaps, he thought, because she reminded him of his precious Sorzus Syn from so long ago. He idly shook his head as he turned his attention to both Dok and Cyrus, his eyes squinting at the sheer desert wind Ankhypt offered as 'courtesy' though the mask of his armor made the gesture moot as he remarked to his two apprentices. His tone curt, almost formal, but with a harshness directed only partly at his apprentices as he paced in front of them. "This, my apprentices, will be your first true chance to show that you are worthy to bear the title."

The Shaper let these words hang in the air for a moment, turning his attention over what was to be the killing fields for this confrontation, the mask of Mithralian enhancing his sight as he gazed out over the dunes, and spied two figures in the distance. One significantly smaller than the other while the larger one radiated a presence in the Force. that the mask helped him to sense across this distance. His lip curled in an emotion somewhere between disgust and intrigue, his emotions briefly flaring as his desire to cleave these parasites from the galaxy wrestled with an innate desire to study them and tear them apart in a more.... methodical fashion. The Shaper's attention only returned when the men of Ingrid L'lerim went about their business of securing a staging point for this front, which caused the Shaper's attention to turn to the woman herself.

From his understanding Ingrid was an Empress of another state within the galaxy and betrothed to one of the current Triumvir. A valuable ally and, if rumor was to be believed, a potent woman in her own right. Turning back to his nearly-ignored apprentices the Shaper inclined his head ever so slightly in an expression of attentiveness, now that his musing was over with. "These creatures area cyst that we will cut from the galaxy like an infection, but make no mistake, should you wander blindly into forces greater than yourself I will not save you." This being the first instance of him bringing Dok and Cyrus into open war, not as training or punishment, he felt that this was what they deserved for motivation. "Should you feel fear, disgust, anger toward these creatures, good. Harness these emotions and steel them for the task ahead. You have a duty to the Empire, to the Emperor, same as I." The Shaper raised a hand, conjuring Acharn to his grasp in a brief flash of Force energy that left inky blackness seeping from his grasp. Like tangible shadows that drifted their way to Ankhypt's sandy surface.

As the Shaper spoke to his apprentices The Iron Crown would reach out to them, directed by the Shaper's unseen will as he physically began to search the horizon for the figures he had see but a moment ago. For Dok the Crown would help him refine and hone those emotions to the scalpel-like focus and intent he was used to. Sharpening his senses beyond the norm and pulling him deeper into the Dark Side to do so. For Cyrus the Crown flooded him with Darkness and spurred his mind toward the ideals of the Sith. Stoking a fervor within him even as the Shaper withdrew his influence to motion to his apprentices, stepping well forward of the staging point before he began his work. The sandy winds of Ankhypt blew more fiercely now as the Shaper began to chant dark, wretched syllables that beckoned the Dark side with corrupted fervor. The Whilstone of Power gleaming like a miniature star upon his brow as Sith magics formed burning runes of green flame upon the dunes of Ankhypt. He had devised this small convenience before this invasion, a way to bring his.... test subject here to see how it fared in the modern age.

Even as he began to weave Dark energies into this ritual the Shaper spared a small fragment of attention toward his apprentices, enough to give them the idea to stand well clear and keep any fools from interrupting his ritual should they need him they could wait. Thus unless the Emperor himself demanded his immediate attention, they were to bar anyone else's interference.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Objective: Protect the Super-Construct
Allies: Adrian L'lerim-Vandiir | Galak | Keldothera | Krarolk T'manu | Primarch Drek'ma |
Enemies: Arctus Silmar | Ellie Mors | Sekhari |
Tools: Axe | Sword | Shield | Armour

With familiar shadows, came a dread. Tathra stood in silence in the heart of the Super-Constructs secondary command facility, arms outstretched as the Juggernaut warriors helped assemble his armour. The thin gold graft was made up of a hundred or more small plates of Kraelmundr all around his torso. Intricately laced together, the thick pearl-grey plates of oiled Verikast settling onto his pectorals, abdomen, collar and along his collar-blades and spine. This was an inevitability, he thought - looking through the viewport.

"How did the Sith get to Ankhypt? How have we not stopped them at our borders?" Tathra barked aloud, not directed to anyone in particular but the dozens listening. Those in the fleet in atmosphere, and the many so called tacticians who scrambled now to ready their defences too late. There was no answer, those that looked his way averted their eyes out of fear as his Juggernauts stood idle beside him.

"HOW?" The stringent baritone echoed through the secondary command facility, the massive Titan stood with open hands at either side, his steps bounding and quaking. An inevitability indeed, and one that couldn't have chosen a worse time to rear its ugly head.

But, so where the fates of those who dared to change the Galaxy for the better. The Super-Constructs sentinel defence had already begun to open fire at the enemy ships and their landing parties, a total of twelve Sentinels opening fire on the landing forces as they came from atmosphere, swarms of Phedrak fighters hovering overhead of the Sentinels in defensive formations; working in coherence with the four Conquesters hovering a few hundred or so feet above the battlefield. They would do their best to delay the enemy landing parties.

Tathra pushed past his Generals, opening a communication channel to the entirety of the Bryn'adûl battlenet. He stood in silence for a moment, those in the command facility seemingly stopping what they were doing even if they didn't look his way. The air grew still, a signal ringing through every communication device of Bryn design - an indication of a broadcast. He had words, but he did not know if they carried the weight they needed to. With a furrowed brow, he began;

"If you are ever to listen to me again, heed my words now! This is no simple raid, this is no attack upon the soil of our foe. This, this is OUR soil. OUR home. The Sith strike into the heart of our HOME! Draemidus Prime is but a step away, if we do not stop them here it could mean the end for all of us. No matter the cost, we must survive! Together, we can defeat any enemy! Unity and strength as one!" Tathra pushed himself up from the command tablet, standing upright as the Baedurin and a majority of the Sraelvun across the Super-Construct cried out.

A war cry that would be heard across the entire mechanical continent. He turned to his Generals, watching as the live-updating hologram of the Construct showed the deployment of the Sith forces.

"Allow them to approach, let our defences cull their number and we will take them from the walls."

He would lead them to victory and they would survive this, the Draelvasier would survive.

 

[Galak]

Objective: Hold the Wall
Allies: Tathra Khaeus | Primarch Drek'ma | Osam |
Enemies: TBD
Equipment: Triad Chaingun | Verikast Armour | Cleaver Axe | Crusher Mace |

The Juggernaut Emissary stood with arms wide, leaning across the metal battlement as his eyes darted across the Sith force. His stomach sunk low, steady breaths working as they could to calm him. He hardened himself with a low growl, they had come to their world and they would pay for it. But he could not help but feel responsible. Had he fought well enough, had he done his duty as part of the hand of Khaeus then they would not have lost at Yurb. It had been his duty to lead and instead he acted like a soldier with no responsibility beyond his own fists. He had made them look weak, and he blamed himself for the loss on the field of battle that day. Now, they seemed weak. Now, the safety of their core worlds were at stake.

Concentrated on the western face of the wall; Rhivaks, Brumaks would be organised among the walls defenders. Spread across the western wall, three Obaliscs would begin to rain artillery fire on the Sith position. No matter what was necessary, no matter what sacrifice needed to be made - Galak would ensure that this battle would be theirs.

"If they wish for us to ride out and meet them, we should do so." He spoke aloud to his kin a top the wall.

He did not approve of the Titan's order to simply wait. He wished to face them, he wished to fight them. He turned to the Primarch, if they were to survive this, they needed to crush the Sith and ensure they would never return.

"Prepare Hadad and a vanguard of Savages, we will give these Sith a taste of Draelvasier war." Though his words were stern, Galak could not help but feel a wash of fear.

This was it.

 

[Keldothera]

Objective: Hold the Wall
Allies: Tathra Khaeus | Galak | Primarch Drek'ma | Osam |
Enemies; Ellie Mors | Arctus Silmar |
Equipment: Kukri | Glaive | Kraker | Splitter |

The day had come. The Seers had spoken of this, spoken of a critical moment that they could not avoid. Whether it was Jedi or Sith it seemed that their struggle would not end. But today they would stand together, unity was the third of the seven tenants but it was the most important one to her. She looked about the battlements at her idle kin, waiting for the combat to ensue. She agreed with the Emissary, but was indeed loyal to the Titan. She would not betray his order; but she wouldn't stop Galak from doing what he wanted. He was one of the hand, and it was not her place to stand in their way. She was but a lowly General.

Against the Sith, it would be Drael like Tathra and Galak who saw them to victory, she knew that. And she would stand by them no matter what. Even now as the Sith cut into the heart of Bryn'adûl territory the warriors Zealots, Juggernauts, Ashaka acolytes, Shamans and even Drones stood together. They would survive, together. This was not their end, but it would be the beginning of it if they did not act soon.

She activated her communication stone, speaking through a battlenet channel only for higher-caste personnel.

"Sire, allow me to take the 12th Regiment out on Skags, let us ride out with a horde of Savages at our back. Ride out and meet them. For death and glory." She spoke purposefully within earshot of Galak, hoping he would wait to hear what the Chieftain had to say before disregarding him order.

 

[Primarch Drek'ma]

Objective: Stop the Sith
Proximity: Galak | Keldothera
Enemies: TBD
Equipment: Staff & Cuirass
Beast: Hadad

With a nod, the Primarch who had been standing adjacent to Galak, one of the hand of Khaeus was now on the move. His mind was one of focus and control, his composure a warm calm as he descended into the depths of the Super-Construct. He could feel, one so attuned to the force as he could feel the slow churning of a diabolical scheme. A scheme of Sith trickery and.. anubian power. It seemed indeed, he could smell their scent through the force, like a wet hound running through a clean barrack, the foul smell of inferior mammals filled the very air. Disgusting. They would be destroyed, all of them.

How they had dared into the dark, how they had dared to attack this place, to attack into the heart of Drael society. If the Bryn'adûl lost here at Ankhypt, it would have dire consequences for the entirety of their face. Today they would have to band together, united to survive this battle. The Seers had spoke of critical battles ahead.

Nar Kreeta. Ankhypt.

It seemed so obvious now that the battles were at their feet and unavoidable. All they could do now was ensure the survival of the Draelvasier. And to do so, he would use a great and powerful instrument to conduct his will. As the elevator crawled to a stop, the massive cavern lit up as he approached, the air thick like fog. The breath of the massive creature. Stretching as far as the eye could see, the massive black scaled spikes all around the form of Hadad cut through the fog like daggers. Its massive maw growling in its slumber, reverberating through the ground. Hadad was more than twice the size of a Guardian, nearly four-thousand metres in length.

A beautiful and magnificent serpent.

"My child... awaken. The Chieftain calls for you to fight."

 

[Sekhari]

​

Post: 1
Location: The Great Pyramid of Anhet, near the Superstructure
Objective: Awaken the Dead

The moment of cleansing had finally arrived. The Bryn'adul had forced the Anubians and their cathar and human subjects from the planet in their invasion, causing floods of refugees to flee into Sith space aboard their evacuation ships. Yet this was part of a grander design Sekhari had planned for this very contingency. With her people out of the way, she and the cohort of Mortuary Priests and her own legion of Royal Guardsmen had remained to enact the ancient rites necessary to assist the Sith Empire in exterminating the Bryn'adul presently on her world.

The Mortuary Priests had been chanting the ancient Anubian verses for several hours, weaving the power of the dark side through their bodies like it were some sort of ancient sorcery. Yet their work would not be for naught, as the end result had finally arrived. Sekhari, stood outside the pyramid upon the dunes atop her ornate royal chariot, shouted the final word of the ritual loudly, her force infused voice booming across the battlefield. "AWAKEN!" A bright green pillar of energy erupted from the top of the pyramid, the raw power of their combined force magicks, while individual streams flowed into the nearby tombs and crypts. As was tradition in Anubian society, the ancient Priest Kings and Queens were not buried alone, their loyal legions willingly entombing themselves alive so they might be ready to arise at their monarch's side at the great time of awakening, when the Anubians had finally mastered life and death itself.

While they hadn't quite gotten that far yet, they were able, in times of need, to awaken the ancient rulers of Ankhypt and their legions into undeath so they might defend their world in times of crisis. This ritual had only been enacted twice before, but the results were quite devastating to Ankhypt's enemies. Within the tombs, the bodies of the dead stirred. Skeletal Anubian and Cathar soldiers, still garbed in their ornate golden armor and wielding vibrokhopeshes and blaster staffs, awoke and began to muster into formation, still remembering their military skills, if not much else presently. The mummified and ornately armored forms of their rulers however, bound with ancient rituals awoke from their sarcophogi, as lucid and as intelligent as they were during their reigns. Activating systems within their tombs, openings with massive ramps began to emerge in the dunes. The innumerable legions of the dead march out in formation, led forth by their risen Priest Kings atop ornate golden chariots, pulled forth by the animated remains of once noble steeds. The vast undying legions of Ankhypt were ready for war with Priest Queen Sekhari herself leading them into battle alongside her ancestors, and so they marched towards the superstructure with to enact their terrible vengeance...

Primarch Drek'ma
Keldothera
Galak
Tathra Khaeus
Arctus Silmar
Adrian L'lerim-Vandiir
Ellie Mors
Ingrid L'lerim

 

[Osam]

Objective: Hold the Wall
Equipment:
Kukri
Verikast Drone Armor
Assault Carbine
Pulverizer Sidearm
Tags:
Galak (In view)
Primarch Drek'ma (In view)
Ingrid L'lerim (My dance partner)
Sekhari (Referenced undead)
There was an undeniable stir of activity in the corridors and halls of the superstructure. Hither and thither, numerous members of the Draelvasier were going about their pre-battle duties. Shamans went about the work of coercing the many war beasts, driving them forward so that they might better defend different points of the superstructure. Elsewhere, Baedurin and Aeravalin warriors marched to the most pivotal locations of the massive base, entrenching themselves as best as they were able as they prepared to defend against the invading foes.

Osam found himself caught up in the drive of motion. He barely recollected the actions of locating his weaponry, guaranteeing it was loaded and maintained, and slipping into the Verikast armor that he often wore during military campaigns. All of it was a mere blur to the Major, an unimportant side-effect of battle. He cast his eyes upwards once again, taking note of the irregular shapes which could be glimpsed even from the surface, the presence of invading starships.

This was different than before. When they'd fought in the past, it had always been against defending forces. They'd not had to deal with repelling offenders -- at least not in as significant a ratio. The Major's mind flew to the memories of civilians and weaklings scattering under the barrage of firepower brought forth by the Bryn'adul, of the scorching fire and vicious beasts which mauled and tore at them until a world had been all but sterilized of inferior sapients.

Were they now on the other end of that spectrum? Would fire reign down upon them, consume them, tear them asunder? No... they were stronger than their foes had ever been, and they'd proven it time and again. Here and now, they would prove it once more for all to see. No Sith, no Jedi, no union of forces could stop them. The forces of the invaders would break their scalpels in their futile attempts at excising the Draelvasier.

It was a short walk onto his stationed position on the wall. Off in the distance, he could just make out the visage of Emissary Galak, and of the Primarch. Two beings of utmost strength and versatility in their own rights, though, he reminded himself that they were neither immortal nor infallible. Both of them had suffered severe injuries in the past. He could only imagine the agony that must accompany the loss of a limb - the aching in one's soul at their inability to do what they had once done so simply.

Surrounded as he was by Sraelvun and Juggernauts and creatures, he felt as though this section of the wall was about as secure as any other. Of course, his confidence in their position shook somewhere when he gazed out across the murderous fields ahead where a majority of the conflict was seemingly destined to occur and took notice of... marching? In the distance, feet were certainly kicking up dust with their movement, and yet he didn't recall seeing enough transportation vessels fall from the sky to form an army already. Was this related to the bright green light that had flashed only minutes ago?

"Deadish ones." One of his Risen subordinates stated plainly, gazing through the scope of their rifle at the encroaching legions.
"Good for rekilling. They're still as weak as they were in life." He reassured, the deception falling easily from his lips. Who knew how strong these new foes would be? One thing was for certain -- the Sraelvun wouldn't feast on rotting flesh. No buffet had presented itself for this conflict... an utter shame.

 

[Argaloth(Dead)]

Atmospheric theme​

Location: Surface, Ankhypt
Troops: 2 Ravager Brutes
Proximity: Adrian L'lerim-Vandiir | Sylok'Vanari
Enemies: TBD

The Sith Empire, Argaloth always wanted to meet these warriors in battle, to feel their bodies pop as he would grain their bones to dust. He had heard about their so call force users through other Bryn who had met them on the battlefield at that they were not to be underestimated. Choosing the field of battle, to meet the enemy head-on, Argaloth ventured out to what would be a killing field, bordering the wall to their city.

Walking on all four, the massive Ravager Brute stopped on one of the sand dunes, giving him a great vantage and view of the inevitable invasion that was about to happen. Looking around him, he saw Reidun or The Little Girl, a Zealot minor and past her Sylok. standing close to the other two Bryn, Argaloth inhaled a big chunk of air and exhaled a deep low rumbling. He was impatient and his hands inched for killing as he paced back and forth.

Not long after Argaloth found himself on the dune, flanked two other Ravager brutes, a bit smaller than Argaloth himself, though he was also larger than your average Ravager. <"Still no sight of the enemy? Disappointing"> spoke the one on the left side of Argaloth, exhaling a low grunt. Argaloth could feel his burning blood course through his veins, bordering him and his two clan members on going berserk, before the Sith had even arrived yet.

 

[Sethrak]

--------------------------------
Post: 1
Objective: Outer-Defenses
Tags: TBD
Inventory: https://www.starwarsrp.net/threads/brynadûl-shadows-kasurigama.130564/ , https://www.starwarsrp.net/threads/brynadûl-crusaders-sun-quaker-grenade.120044/

Sethrak stood perfectly still, looking out to the endless desert. Wave over wave of sandy hills reflecting the sun. Around him there were several defenses set up, manned by a large handful of Bryn soldiers. This was one of many outposts designed to be a first wall against the Sith assault. The key point of these outposts was the massive anti-air gun in the center of each. These were of major importance, without them, the Sith would land hundreds of troops.

The Bryn around him were anxious, afraid even...the feelings of an upcoming battle. These feelings were strong, a wall over any others that the Drael may be feeling. A wall, an attacker knows what lays behind it, they just can’t reach it. Sethrak could sense the uncertainty in them. They were afraid of another Yurb. Afraid to see the Bryn Empire lose its’ grip on the galaxy and fall like a piece of glass, destined to shatter when the inevitable blow lands. Behind the fear: Logic. Tathra had failed them at Yurb, he hadn’t given the Bryn a Navy and it led to the deaths of many. One more error could cause another loss.

Not all of the Drael had this doubt...but it was too many. In a battle this critical, the thoughts of the troops must be focused, centered, and unwavering. Sethrak took a breath, and struggled to come up with what he needed to say. He was the leader of this outpost. These Drael relied on his orders, his decisions, and his leadership. He needed to quell this dissent. That’s it. They are under his leadership. If the outpost falls, it is Sethrak, not Tathra, that should be blamed. Sethrak had his faults, but he was typically successful. If the Drael at this outpost see it as Sethrak’s battle, the dissent will be lesser.

“Drael, hear me. I know that many of you are afraid that Tathra Khaeus will fail us. I know you are thinking of Yurb, of Yleasia. I tell you, we will not fail this day. I am your leader at this moment, not Tathra. There are six more outposts...they are not led by Tathra. Success will depend on how well we each fight. It is not a matter of leadership. Any one of you would have us in the same situation we are in today. Tathra couldn’t control the Sith. Today, my order to you is to unite. Forget that we ever tasted defeat, and we shall never taste it again.”

He then stepped back, and looked back to the horizon. The Sith are coming. When they reach this outpost, they will discover what it means to attack the Bryn. They will taste failure, and it will linger. They will live in the destruction that will follow. This outpost will not fall.

 

[Badar]

Post: 1
Objective: Support the Bryn from above.
Tags: TBD
Location: Over the Super Construct

Badar sat in his butcher looking down at the Super-construct. The massive area was soon to be a battleground, and Badar would be ready to help in any way possible. He was afraid. It’s a natural feeling, but it was one that he hadn’t felt in a long time. The Sith had a huge armada and the Bryn would have to face it at some point. They had retreated into the atmosphere to buy time and help the ground forces as much as they could before the Sith fleet met them. They almost never retreated. It was Just one example of the sacrifices the Bryn would have to make to win this fight.

Beyond sacrifice, the Bryn needed one thing if they were to have any chance at all: Unity. Tensions had been high ever since Yurb and now the Bryn were fighting for a critical point in their territory. If there are desertions, orders not followed, and brothers fighting amongst themselves, there is no hope for a victory here. None at all.

Badar looked up. In the distance he saw something through the clouds. The Sith are here.

 

[Thogfer Kórdak]

Objective: Protect and Defend against the Sith
Allies: Adrian L'lerim-Vandiir | Galak | Keldothera | Krarolk T'manu | Primarch Drek'ma |
Enemies: Ellie Mors | Sekhari | Arctus Silmar
Tools: Verikast Juggernaut Platform 12A | Glaive & Radesh Automatic

"HMPH." Thogfer let out a loud sigh of disappointment. These pesky Sith must be dumb to think they could creep into their homeland and expect to take it. He hefted his heavy repeating weapon to his right shoulder. Standing next to the rest of his juggernaut brethren, he roared loudly which was followed by more roars.

Thogfer readied his weapon and prepared for war. He couldn't be stopped. He wouldn't be stopped. All he could see was blood. He looked to his brothers and said nothing but pointed to the incoming enemy. There were hundreds of thousands of them lined up. There was no organization, no structure among them. One objective, one goal, destroy the Sith.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"There is no peace, there is anger. There is no fear, there is power."​

​

The voices drifted beyond the veil of thick smoke which prevailed through the air, clouding sight and filling the nostrils with the pungent odor of death. A dozen Sith knelt upon the cold hard durasteel, their arms outstretched in supplication while their heads were bowed so low that they touched the floor. Their lips moved silently in rapid succession, whispering an incantation in a language foreign to most ears. They had been chosen because they were among the Emperor's best; his most loyal, his most capable. They were stripped down to their waists, their bare torsos glistening with sweat as hooded varlets walked from person to person.​

​

One of these varlets was charged with holding a pair of clay pots in either hand, the left filled with black pigment while the right was filled with red pigment. Another would dip a chisel wrought from bone into the pigments and proceed to inscribe a pattern over the prone Sith's back. Each one received the same, it was their mark of honor as one of the Emperor's ardent followers.​

​

"There is no death, there is immortality. There is no weakness, there is the Dark Side."​

​

The Sith Emperor sat at the head of his congregation, legs crossed as he levitated above the ground and recited the words of an ancient Sith incantation. Like the others, he had removed his clothing down to his waist, his body already resplendent with tattoos written in the runic language of the Sith. His eyes were closed, knit shut in concentration as the Dark Side of the Force was flowing through him like a burst water valve. The air seemed to shimmer around him, bursting with volatile energy.​

​

"It is time, cousin."​

​

His eyes opened immediately, molten halos staring out into the darkened room as every creature within his gaze stilled and fell silent. Slowly he lowered himself to the floor, legs uncrossing to find purchase on the cold steel. A pair of hooded servants, their faces obscured by bandages, moved to clothe him in dark runic armor. When they were finished they again departed into the shadows. The Sith rose up around him, their eyes trained on their Dark Lord as he moved between them and out of the chamber. They followed shortly after, keeping their distance behind him.​

​

​

The valve leading to the Wo Derriphan's bridge contracted to allow the Sith Emperor access, his brood of follower Sith not far behind him. He ignored the Yuuzhan Vong, moving past them to stand up where Ellie Mors was situated, the world of Ankhypt looming just beyond the dreadnought's vision. He had never visited the world before, though he had been aware of it for many years. The Ancient Eye had once held sway over Ankypt's deserts, but now the might of the Bryn'adûl was absolute. Even from space, the grotesque sight of their Superstructure could be discerned from the rest of the planet's environment, slowly transforming Ankypt into a world that catered to the whims of the Draelvasier.​

​

"This will be a challenge, cousin, but a welcome one. I will go and make the necessary preparations for landfall. May the Dark Side serve you eternally."​

​

The Sith Emperor turned away and disappeared off the bridge, his Sith again following him. Though the hangars of Wo Derriphan were few in number, there was enough space to hold the Emperor's own shuttle, the Crestfallen. Without much fanfare, the Emperor boarded his shuttle with all twelve of his underlings and began his descent down towards the blood-stained sands of Ankypt.​

 

[Kelmor]

​

Objective: Hold the Wall
Post: 1
Allies: Tathra Khaeus | Galak | The Bryn’adûl
Enemies: Kascalion Giedfield | TSE
Equipment: Two Crusher War Maces

Atop the Outer Wall, Kelmor stood. Beside him, his brethren flanked him, stretching across the Walls. It was awe inspiring to him, to see so many of them. Below the Sith would try to fight through the chaos, to breach the Walls and destroy the Super-Construct. He would use every cell in his body to make sure that didn't happen.

With maces hanging loosely in his hands, he waited for the attacks to start. He couldn't wait to be up close and personal with one of the Force Users. To crush the life from their frail bodies and show them just how superior The Bryn’adûl were.

"Bring on the Sith"

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

Location: Personal Starship In Orbit | Objective: Study and Kill the Bryn'adûl | Lightsaber: X | Armor: X | Tags: Kelmor
​

The starship hung low in orbit above the planet of Ankhypt, ion engines humming low and sour in their static hovering. The yellow light fixtures of his quarters - resplendent in the spartan designs and iconography of Credence - shined down in an inverted pyramid on the Devil's form, bathing him in a holy light that spited his unholy visage. A living remembrance of the lost world, the enigmatic icon of the Orchard. Even then, had he not bore the skeletal head of his mistake months prior - the mark of another failure - he could have been regarded as handsome. Regal perhaps. A decent fellow to be near without worry. But now...he was no better than the Bryn'adûl he sought to fight with sword and fury. He was once again a true Skator Hai - or rather a Skadan Hai, a sub-breed of his people. An infernal half-dead necromonger with little more than hatred, despair, self-loathing, and genetic mutations inside of him. It's what allowed him to become a Warrior-King once.

His body muscles ached with a deep soreness as the pre-war paints were applied to his skin, painful nontarnishable reds that burned and chilled all at once like an hot coal on Hoth. It coated his arms, his chest, his back, his legs. Every inch was lathered in it, building the torment he deemed necessary now before every battle so as to fight with the agony he suffered in all lives he had led. He rose to his feet, standing as a bloodied obelisk in a metal prison, hissing as his nerves screamed when the leather armor was affixed to his body, suctioned in a way that granted him full range of motion and kept the pain alive. His skull, skinless and dipped in gold save for the neck, grinned and chattered and grunted ethereally as the gloves and bracers were shunted down his forearm and over his hands.

His mind instinctively wandered to his foes for the coming day. The Bryn'adûl were a primal people, savage and chaotic and knew very little beyond the culling of the Galaxy's races. That posed a problem for men like Kascalion Giedfield who had become used to those eager to utilize strategies of the unorthodox. Simplicity made this situation complex from the start. They reminded him of Rakghoul, ferocious beasts designed to kill. He had spoken to a few singular survivors that barely escaped the horde as they marauded upwards to the Sith borders. But upon speaking to them, they could not really be classified as survivors. They spoke of horrors that could make even a Rancor cringe - monstrosities of mutagenics and selective breeding that could churn the stomach of criminals with the death sentence in twelve systems. But the Devil? The Devil did not cringe, nor was he made nauseous. No, he was made fearful in a way. For the Bryn'adûl had made these men and women scream at the mere mentioning of their name. That was power in a way Kascalion had not seen in a long time.

He thought more on this as the helmet of the armor set was brought down over his skull and whirred to life with the neurodes attaching themselves to the cranium. Each neurode then sent electromagnetic jolts to connect his semi-organic brain to the helmet's advanced computer systems, allowing him to access a variety of data-reads he would likely need to properly combat the race that knew no damage in half their battles. His eyes - dying stars set within empty sockets - gazed over to the weapon that lay on his table which he promptly retreived with a flick of his wrist. Purple in color with a white blade signifying that the one who wielded it had purified the crystals. Ironic that it now lay in the hands of a man most foul. His fingers tightened against the hilt, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over the ignition switch. He would use this weapon to carve and maim just as his foes carved and maimed. That much he was certain about. That much he could promise.

"My Lord Giedfield, the Empire's forces are preparing to launch the assault on the Bryn'adûl's construct," one of the Devil's cloaked servants muttered in a harrowed whisper. He was an older man, one of the first Kascalion had begrudgingly taken on as a follower. Having followers is good for the heart, his brother Lorale had once said.

"Good, prepare the pod," he responded plainly, his voice akin to wet gravel through the modulator of his helmet. He marched heavy-footed towards the sliding doors of his quarters, hooking his weapon to his belt.

"Will you not be taking assistance, my Lord?" another servant asked before the doors slid shut, and was immediately cowed by the look she received from the Sith.

He thought for a moment, considering possibly taking some soldiers, but knew the game plan that had been set for the invasion by his comrades. "I must do this alone," he muttered before bowing his head to those in attendance - a sign of respect uncommon from the Devil. "For the Atonement."

"For the Atonement," they all responded in unison, bowing entirely and watching as he disappeared into the dark halls of his ship.

 

[Sylok'Vanari]

​

Location: Ankhypt Surface, Eastern Sand Dune, 200 Meters from the Killing Field.
Objective: Learn, Kill, Survive
Forces: Army of Ashaka Ik'Straktors | Scattered Drones | x3 Ashaka Battle-Masters (Ignore Necromancy, Not A Thing)
Gear: Model A - Verikast Drone Armor | Barricas Oil | Superior Restoration Mutagen | Barad Kukri | x4 Barad Impact Grenades |
Allies: Adrian L'lerim-Vandiir | Argaloth
Enemies: Arctus Silmar | Dok Varuut | Darth Acharon |

Ankhypt, was a scarred planet for months, quickly morphing into a unrecognized mess that showed the true power of the Draelvasier. As much as the construct was a necessity, it was also a message. A letter written in blood to those that chose to deny The Bryn'adûl as a serious threat in the galaxy. Worse than the image that would be imprinted in the invader's minds, would be the memory of the slow death the planet continued to go through. With that memory, was the reminder of how effective the Bryn wiped out its previous inhabitants. Now the desert planet was devoid of any other sentient being than the Draelvasier. At least that remained true till the sands of Ankhypt turned its sour winds against them. The surging forces of The Sith Empire had made it far enough into Bryn space. They proved consistent in their effort to make it on the surface of the terraformed planet. It was unique. To see a brave or foolish enough force strike deep in the Bryn's home. It was only a matter of time before the Bryn had to experience an assault on one of their many planets. Still, the Sith knocked on the wrong door. The only thing that resided behind it was the heart of the Bryn's Empire, Draemidus Prime. Clarity of the situation was more apparent now, the vast sea of sand separating the Sith from the Bryn. Much like the Bryn swept through the inhabitants of Ankhypt, the Sith could potentially be the wild card to reverse the roles. The Draelvasier forces weren't just fighting an invasion of unpredictability, the fought for their very existence.

Loose sand twirled along the ground, slowly it began to rise higher and higher till a burst of harsh desert winds prevented the vortex from continuing and grains of sand abruptly fell dead. Sylok watched the soft display mere feet from where he stood, his feet dug into the ridge of the dune. His eyes lifted, his gaze met with a vast gap between the construct and the enemy forces. The Killing Field, rightfully named, considering many would die fighting for absolute victory. It was a strategic point both defensively and offensively, there was no way around it. Even now, Sylok could feel the putrid air grow thick with dread. The threads of woven force that lingered around him slithered like a serpent. Sylok had gained the power of sight, true sight of living force. It was clear to him now, there were others bestowed the same gift that proved its allegiance to the Bryn. His studies had garnered one thing and one thing only, it didn't matter.

”What can you know about these strangers who will come? I’ve heard others use the same mystical thing as you. How to defeat them?”

The words split his concentration, his eyes slowly shifting to his peripheral. They had waited in silence for so long, Sylok almost forgot the one they called, "Little Girl." She was smaller than most Drael, Sylok didn't mind, he too bore that shame when it came to his Aeravalin counter-parts. The young Zealot was incredibly talented, more so trained in the arts of each designated weapon she had brought with her. Sylok admired their kind, they were vastly versatile and incredibly fast. Sylok wasn't reliant with too many weapons, other than that of his father's blade. It took him years to hone his body as a weapon, martial arts became part of his studies. It was only made possible with access to archives on worlds the Bryn had conquered over time. He was lucky to have the "Little Girl."

"You're right to worry." Sylok's voice came with a cold serious tone, his gaze leaving her to focus on the field below. "These strangers call themselves, Sith. The seers have spoken of their ways vaguely." Sylok honed in on three figures in the distance, shackles of dark energy almost cutting through the entire landscape. A new thread of visible force making itself present. The thread was a beam of red and brooding with sporadic spikes of disease as it lifted to the air. It was a clear difference than what Sylok had swirling around him. Sylok's eyes narrowed, words slipping out to let the young Zealot know. "You asked how we defeat them..." Sylok grinned, his teeth shifting once more before he finished. "Let your strength guide you to the answer, little girl."

It was true, the Draelvasier needed to find a way to decimate the unsuspecting foe. Sylok and his Ashaka Battle-Masters harnessed the force like Sith, but they did so organically untainted by the influence of the darkside. In truth, Sylok didn't know where on the spectrum they resided, their powers were too new, too devastating and most of all, too unknown. The enemy didn't know this. Even if they did, the only thing they could constitute is where they resided with the woven threads of living force. At least they knew, all Sylok could do is rely on it, manipulate it and learn from it. Like a needle, another reverberation rippled through the force, this signature far more impactful. A wash of cold dead air slammed into him, his breath visible for the briefest of moments in the hot desert sun. Shivers struck him and a beam of viridescent energy pierced through the skies. One of the red robed Ashaka members stepped up. Speaking out of wisdom, the ground shattered and a thundering roar of death sprouted from the dead planet. A thick fog of sand and dirt rushed to close in on the Killing Field. The words of the Ashaka Acolyte cementing what he already knew.

"The dead rise Life Weaver."

Sylok turned to the Ravager, his impatience a clear indication of the thirst for war. He knew little of Argaloth, but understood the strength he brought to their group. Sylok couldn't allow him to rush in after the army of the dead. Instead, before the impulse got the better of Argaloth, Sylok shouted over the drums of war created by the undead Anubian forces.

"Argaloth, wait! Let my army serve as a means of sacrifice." Sylok paused, his arm lifting to the sky, his palm clamping down as the hidden Ashaka Ik'straktors rushed over the ridge in a fury of hunger. The sands of Ankhypt bellowed in the wind as they charged into the killing field to meet the new forces of the dead. "Little Girl, Argaloth." Sylok lifted his other arm, pointing out the three figures in the distance. The Sith were clear of the Killing Field. "I felt it, the force. We stop them, we survive."

Sylok knew it deep down, something worse was on the horizon. If anything was going to keep them alive, it was his mind. ​

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Lady Ingrid L’lerim-Ragal
Empress Regent of the Eternal Empire, Overlord of the Eternal Empire, the Emperor's hand
The Red Witch; Director of Blackwatch; Baroness of Vengard, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium​

Location: Surface, Ankhypt
Equipment: 2x Sigra vibroblade | 2x Striith vibrosword | 2x red blade lightsaber shoto | Heilagr MK. I Assassin Armour | Shield talisman | G1 OmniLink | BCR-X10 Sniper Rifle | Empyrean gland | Taozin amulet
Ground forces: 2/2 Smoke demons
Tag(s): Osam

Background music:
Sabaton – Rise of Evil​

The task continued, she could feel in the distance that the Dark Side powers had moved. This disturbance was not unknown to the red-haired woman because she also practiced Necromancy. True, she alone could not set up and bring such an army back to life. One of the officers with her indicated that she saw movement nearby. The woman asked for a pair of binoculars and through it began to examine the direction her man had said. She spotted strange, huge creatures through the binoculars. She had never seen such things in her life, not even the like, at most in horror stories.

But she already knew that these were the Draelvasier. As she looked through them Ingrid saw the armour, the weapons, their physique. Ingrid came from a warrior culture, immediately noticing that a member of Bryn’adûl was also a warrior one by one. She saw several members, but some of them did not seem as strong and brutal as the majority. They were, of course, compared to men, but not compared to their other companions. Could they be shamans or something? Were there any Force Users in her opponent's ranks at all? She did not know.

She noticed in the crowd a specimen more than two and a half feet tall, @ Osam. This creature was even taller than Prazutis and Carnifex, not to mention being much more robust. He somehow stood out from those around him. In fact, the red-haired woman would have even been happy to talk to members of this race, though she knew it wasn’t too possible because they never talk, they just conquer and are worse than the Vong.

She walked out to the ruins and to the edge of town where they were now, watching the enemy from there. She was now quite visible because of her black armour even though it tried to blend into the environment, so even the enemy could notice her. For now, she didn't want to issue an attack order or anything like that because she wanted to see what the opponent was up to, who they were and what they were. After all, this is mainly why she came to find out what the enemy is capable of and what they really are…

​

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Objective: Protect the Super-Construct
Allies: Galak | Osam | Keldothera | Kelmor |
Enemies: Ingrid L'lerim | Ellie Mors | Sekhari | Kascalion Giedfield | Darth Carnifex | Arctus Silmar |
Tools: Axe | Sword | Shield | Armour

- AWAKEN -

That word would change the course of the battle. Their sensory systems picked up minute seismic activity, confusion was the emotion at hand for those within the secondary command facility but it didn't take long to realise what exactly was going on. Tathra stood still, opaque eyes reflecting the turbulent green beam of energy spiralling upward from the pyramid erecting itself from the sand. A hundred questions more, they had scanned these deserts a dozen or so hundred times and had never seen any ruins that remained, no pyramids.

"How - how could this be..." He uttered to himself, eyes looking to the pyramid and its beam and to the forces forming below in the endless sand. The undead forces of the anubians, he had heard of them before and he knew what it meant for them.

He didn't have to do the calculations. Every battle was a calculation and he knew the odds of this one, if there were more undead that they could not see, it was likely there were hundreds of thousands more than those they could see in front of them. They had only one true choice, yes of course they could hope their outter defences wore them down. But if the undead made it to the walls, he didn't know what would happen.

He had but one true choice to ensure the survival of their people, Galak was right. Ride out and meet them. The Titan turned to one of his Honour Guard.

"Prepare a detachment of the 10th." Was his sole order, they would be ready to deploy in roughly two minutes. Not long. Next, he contacted two Draelvasier he knew he could trust. The Shamans were already confirming it, the pyramid appeared to be a power source of some kind and it was shielded, powerfully so. There was no way they were taking out quickly at range.

Tathra made his way to the battlements, the massive crimson Drael was old but fast - his paced steps quaking against the metal as he walked past Osam toward Galak.

"Osam. With me." It wasn't a request.

"Galak. The pyramid, its a power source. Take your best warriors and this one with you in Gunboats around the back of the pyramid. Its shielded, you'll need to go in on foot. I will lead a force here on the fields to keep them distracted. General Keldothera, you are your Warriors with me also. We ride out - now." Tathra buried any emotion he felt, placing a hand on Galak's shoulder.

He wanted him to know, in case this was the last time. He needed to tell him.

"I am proud of you. Do not fail me." He leaned in, speaking in a hushed tone. He respected Galak almost as much as any other living being in this Galaxy. Tathra slammed his fist into his chest, the gesture of respect among the Baedurin.

Below, on the western face of the wall a large gate would begin to open as the forces of the 10th and 12th Regiment Juggernauts would begin to form up on the other side, they numbered maybe half of what the Sith and Undead did, but that wasn't the point. They were Juggernaut, they were Baedurin warriors.

Now all they had to do was wait for Tathra and the General to arrive.