TAE: That's Why It's Called Babel | Dominion of Haven (AM-32)

[Tathra Khaeus]

​

​DOMINION OF HAVEN | Hex AM-32​

​

Something ancient has awakened, something born of anguish; a darkness has lingered too long over Haven. A test for us, heralded by the Gods to show our strength. A lingering evil has converged upon the planet, while the Hand of Light remains shattered; we trade one villain for another

Khaemt, the god of Perfectum has blessed us with yet further conquest to empower ourselves; to grow and to prosper and to bring more misguided worlds under the protection of the Eye. Haven, has laid untouched since the beginning of time; only recently discovered. Since then, those who have ventured there have gone missing, or reported killed. We will assist Lyra Sarn in her research; capture the Finnevian foxes, discover what is atop the mountain and find out what happened to those who became before us. We will not suffer the same mistakes nor the same fate as those too weak to struggle onward. We are strength, we are The Ancient Eye.

Force Users within the Ancient Eye have been dispatched to Haven to investigate a disturbance in the force (Objective B), the Priesthood have discovered a massive source of power hiding within the Peak. There appears to be a veil of some kind, a shield from our world generated by this disturbance within the force.

The Finnevian Foxes are unique in that, somehow they are able to conceal themselves; passing through this force imbued veil with ease. (Objective A) They must be found and studied to gain a greater understanding of what is happening here, on this planet. However, it appears as though a strange cult has arisen in worship to this dark entity, they guard these creatures as they believe them to be gifts from their god. These technologically inferior dark servants have made small camps out of ship wrecks nearby the coves that these animals live in. These cultists seem to resemble Vikings of old, layered in heavy furs and leathers with basic iron weapons. Still, be weary of these fanatics.​

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(OOC: In response to some of the issues with our previous Dom, this one will be a collaborative effort between all members leading to a singular final objective, we hope you enjoy the experience.)

Objective A - Accumulation and Decimation:
Find and capture the Finnevian Foxes in the northern region of the planet known as ​The Troughs, study them to gain a better understanding of the happenings on Haven. Eradicate the local cultist populace, crucify those whom surrender. There are a total of six​ camps set up by these cultists with at minimum twenty warriors at each, wipe them out. All of them.

It is imperative that these creatures be captured, as they may very well hold the key to stopping whatever lies beyond the veil.

Objective B - The Mystery of the Peak, Follow the Trail:
The force users within the Ancient Eye can clearly see this veil unlike those with no connection, they can feel it. The peak is the source of this power, venture onward without hesitation and find the origin of these random deaths and disappearances. The mountain simply known as The Peak is a colossal mountain hidden among a overlapping maze of smaller mountains, reaching into the clouds is its precipice. Deliver our might to this ancient presence, follow the wreckages of ships and bodies, they will lead you to what it is we seek.

The journey towards the peak is a perilous one for both mind and body, the mountainous regions very design seems to change at the whim of whatever malevolent nature is harbouring its power deep within the highest point of the mountain, expect both physical and psychological attacks.

Objective C - BYOO
Do ya, do ya, do ya thing, do ya, do ya thing, do ya thing!
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FINAL OBJECTIVE - Survive:
/Redacted/


Members Tag:

Spoiler

[member="Abelain Narv'uk"] [member="Aeron Tosh"] [member="Ankharbis the Great"] [member="Antherion"] [member="Arlen Rossi"] [member="Aspen Laval"] [member="Asteria deWinter"] @Ax'no [member="Azrik"] [member="Braith Achlys"] @Cellebait [member="Darth Abyss"] [member="Darth Lykos"] [member="Darth Phren"] [member="Darth Ren Malgus"] [member="Darth Zurvan"] [member="Formorta"] [member="Kiso"] [member="Hal'kanor"] [member="Judas Foster"] [member="Kainan Wolfe"] [member="Khorijiin"] [member="Kyle Raymus"] [member="Lord Harris"] [member="Lyra Sarn"] [member="Priscilla Utorna"] [member="Rath Exigo"] [member="Saki lin"] [member="Salij-Nekt"] [member="Sekhet-ka-nefer"] [member="Sena"] [member="Seras Rose"] [member="Shaun Irons"] [member="Skorvek"] [member="Temujin Khaan"] [member="Thalestris Crius"] @The Mepherium [member="Thraxis"] [member="Udrusa Chagteath"] [member="Zet Anaa"] [member="Mythos"]

​----------------------------------------------------
​The Matador - Southern Region
​Location: Aboard landed Agramar-class Cathedral Ship.
​Objective: Overseeing Preparations for Objective Completion - Setting up Sensor Arrays

​The Matador alongside other notable individuals within the Ancient Eye, had left dock on Edemar aboard a single Agramar Cathedral Ship, manned by a skeleton crew to Haven. They had only been here for a few hours and it was clear that something was very wrong on Haven. The Planet was typically calm and serene in the summer months, yet like its sister planets it was rippled with dark energy, thick black ice covered a large portion of the planet; violent snowstorms coated the planet in white and limited all visions to almost null.

​Local wildlife had grown, feral and monstrous nearby the Peak and the local cultists had grown rather bold and desperate, even burning down entire portions of the forests to keep warm. The morose feeling of deathly eyes watching hung over all on the planet, like a violating moistness tricked down the spine of all who dare tread on the snowy tundra.

​Even so, outside the Matador stalked through the valley surrounding the ship, accompanied by six Bellator Forces; setting up a perimeter of sensor arrays outside of the Cathedral ship, the weather had been messing with the ships on-board sensor equipment; making it impossible to lock down a reading on the locations of the native Finnevian Foxes. The Matador's Dravalan blood strained to maintain warmth in the feverish cold, his Impetus Soveriegn Armour doing the best it could to keep him warm. Still, the cold stung at his every joint.

​The Matador stopped, planting down the last of the Sensor Arrays; activating his com-link and contacting [member="Mythos"] on-board the Cathedral Ship. ​"Sensor Arrays activated Mythos, the readings are a little fuzzy; but we'll get a better reading with these set up. Prepare the scouting party, I can feel the veil calling to us, Khaemt beckons us to challenge this presence."

 

[Aeron Tosh]

Objective: A

The ship's annoying swaying motion made it impossible for Aeron to concentrate on his plan. The entire ship was filled with spys, snipers, assassins, and slicers all talking and bragging about their fickle "accomplishments" or desperately trying to organize some plan for everyone to follow through on, but the attempts left us with nothing but disapproval and arguing. Regardless of if they had a good plan or not, Aeron was still going to go in alone. He's always been a lone wolf and he's determined to make sure it stays that way.

When the ship landed everyone began rushing out to go do who-knows-what while Aeron calmly walked out the ship, being the last one he had a look of absolute certainty in his eyes and he knew his plan was going to crush the Finnevian Foxes.

 

[Kalyn Tal'verda]

Objective A:

Karking Cultists screwing up my planet. Lyra thought to herself. Things on haven were going perfectly fine until they showed up, now the planet was covered in sickly ice and endless snow. Something was going on but she was not sure exactly what. It was time somebody did something about it. The Ancient Eye claimed to have the answer, a force disturbance up in the mountains. She knew little of this "force" but whatever it was it sounded bad and scary, she would let the professionals deal with it.

Compound Alpha was on lockdown, a PMC had been contracted to protect against the primitive raiders, after a few weeks they wisened up and stopped attacking. It would act as a sort of FOB for the operation on the planet. One of her researchers had discovered that the cute little Finnevian Foxes that ran around the world seemed to be able to pop through the some sort of invisible veil. However they needed live specimens to investigate more, and that was not exactly easy when they can just pop into another reality. Luckily for The Ancient Eye, the same researcher was able to create a sort of Energy Net that when deployed incapacitated the foxes and disabled their ability to phase. The nets were deployed with high speed net guns.

Lyra rode in the back of an shuttle with a few of the PMCs. They were all in heavy snow gear in order to ensure they did not freeze to death. There were also 3 crates each containing several net guns and sizeable quantities of Energy Net ammo, it would be useful in the fox hunt. The shuttle landed at the rally point for the Fox Hunt. The crew stayed in the shuttle until the others arrived. It was in their best interest not to go out into the raging storm.

[member="Aeron Tosh"]

 

[Formorta]

Objective: A clear out the camps and cover capture team
Post: 1
Allies: [member="Lyra Sarn"] [member="Aeron Tosh"]

Formorta was unsure why the AE had hired so many PMC, mercenaries and other gun sort this operation, certainly there were more professional soldiers at the Empires disposal, then again perhaps the higher ups where not willing to risk losing skilled men on such a sinister looking world. Though not a force sensitive she masked assassin could feel the dark energy coming from the planet, the look of the black as dead ice and snow making the planet look infected, with some sort of rotting sickness, slowly being corrupted. How this happened she did not know, that was not her job, all Formorta and the rest of PAC Ops were tasked with was clearing out the cultists and capturing, something that she would leave to the AE personal headed by [member="Lyra Sarn"].

Slowly but surely the drops ship landed, some of the mercs from [member="Aeron Tosh"] craft rushed out, probably to trigger happy for their own good, wanting a taste of action, complete oblivious to the many danger that may lurk in the misty shadows of the darkened and cold world. Growing up on Tatooine and running mission in the most unforgivable environments Formorta was unfazed by the temperature, but was still decked out in her snow gear variant of her usual uniform. Stepping out of the craft she waved the Twi'lek agent over to her, boots crushing against the black snow as the PMC and PAC ops agent re-grouped together.

"If everyone is here I see no reason to delay starting our mission, provided that everyone agrees with the plan", she remarked, the woman's re-breather mask making her words muffled and slightly robotic. "The PAC Ops operatives will deal with clearing out the cult camps around the site along with some of the PMC, providing cover for your hunt as well as setting up a perimeter around the camps to ensure no enemy reinforcements come, any questions of objections to this plan"? Fomorta doubted everyone would agree, mostly some of the PMC and perhaps AE operatives, but she knew those from PAC Ops and the SR would follow her command, something she did not do often but was required for this mission since [member="The Matador"] and other higher ups where off doing their force business.

 

[Thraxis]

Objective: Let's say A, lest things change. Probably gonna catch a fox.
Post: Numero Uno. (For those like me who don't know what that means. Lets assume One.)
Loadout: Cruciatus Blades | Cruciatus Blades | Tazi Executioner Armor Mk-I | Enigma Gas Mask | RL-40 Stun Net Launcher | Phantasm Cloak | Thraxis Pistolas

Why? Why did bad things happen to good people? Here was Thraxis, on an ordinary day, a drunkard, booze in one hand and a bubble pipe in the other, strapped to the nine in armaments and whatnot and somehow, through some divine force, whether it was truly divine was a case of question, he was caught, gagged and dragged by some Police Force with a bounty for his name. An old one, ya know, the sort that might have existed a millennia ago, but one none the less. But we lose ourselves, good things bad people? No, bad things good people. Right back on track. Well, there he was, in quite the predicament... Well. Was in quite the predicament. He had escaped the predicament, tossed it on his head, bested the Giant, The worlds Greatest Swordsman and played their mastermind for a fool in a game of cards. Well, he cheated, but in the end, the greatest prize was the girl. The Princess. And that is where our story both ends, yet with a flip of the page, a new chapter begins.

​

Chapter 21: The Hero Triumphs​

A dozen blaster fires rained upon the swinging Swashbuckler, in his hand, booze, in his either, a shattered cup, yet between that cup was the girl, the bride, the princess of which he had apparently saved through an act of daring, cunning and overall bravery that would make champions quake in their boots. But you read that in Chapter Eight lets not forget, no need to relive the past. The door had been sprung, flames licked and ran amuck at feet and wire, cornered the foes narrowed closer in, Thraxis no time to pull out his gun as he waved his half-broken bottle of beer like some souse keeping back the bouncers. "Fear not me lady! For I shall save you!" He yelled, a daring pounce made forward as another blaster shot rang true, slashing at his armour with all the effectiveness of a Wasp stinging a building. It was unmoved, unphased and if it was sentient, it was laughing at you. But with a foil in his step he pranced back, arm pressed against the madam's chest as she looked down, eyes widened with fear as he took one final step backwards. "Madam, my Princess. Tell me, do you trust me?" He inquired, his face covered yet sincerity ran through his voice modulator like oil turned to honey. He took an inch further as the man approached with guns ready, she hampered back, her clothing billowed in the wind as the man in black pressed her an inch back, he repeated the fated line, "Do you trust me?" As her throat croaked, her throat visibly swelling as tears ran down her cheeks before finally, those words rolled, "I do." Her words quivered with all the terror that a newborn could muster as if left unknown to the plagues of this world. But in her days with the man in black, she had learnt them quite well, that no guise was ever unbreakable, that o will no matter the pain could remain broken, and that true love never died.

No words were spoken than Behind that veiled mask of black he let loose a smile, with no intention of sadism, Thraxis had simply... Grown accustomed to the look. But as she caught around him, he pushed her down, tossing through the air vents of the mask his booze as with a single step with no grace or tact he flew. He jumped, the ship a floating husk that scanned and rolled through the skies, the clouds long since parting as they traversed the skies, hands coiled in each other, her lips moved as tears flew through the skies like raindrops that never learnt how reality worked, he couldn't hear her, the sound of wind was far too great. Maybe he had found love, could Thraxis find love? These were questions he often pondered, well maybe once in a blue moon and in a nightmare, but this nightmare had become dreamlike as they descended through an eternity of clouds.

​

But bad things happen to good people. And this, well. Like they say, Lifes a B-.... I don't need to spell it out you know the saying.​

Reality kicked in like an unarmored woman hitting the pavement at terminal velocity, and that meant one thing. Splat. A big splat, the sort was gore and viscera bypass physics and somehow manage to get inside your armour. This wasn't one of those cases, but that is the level Thraxis was dealing with. He, on the other hand, he wasn't doing too bad. He had landed on planets in Cargo Containers, Drop Pods, Parachutes and had flown through trees by monsters that made Rancors feel a little underqualified. This? This was painful. His armour depressed the soil, his form and every crevice of his armour imprinting as he was left with a cackling headache, his eyes blurred from the concussive force as with a drag and a grind he slowly dragged himself from the drugs, looking on in abject... Well. Indifference. He knew the chick for around three days, and even then he wasn't sure, the time had become... Well, like this woman indifferent, did he feel mournful? Well, on the same level you feel for a relative you met one time, he walked through the gore and viscera, finding her sunken, busted, bloodied head, rolling two fingers against the eyelids as he closed them, it was the least he could do after all he had caused.

Chapter 22: Prologue? Epilogue? Well. Not the end at least.​

​

It all came in a flash as he strapped over his shoulder his duffel bag, this thing had seen more action than anyone on this planet he was sure. Thousands of years of stories patches and everything in between. Or was it three years? Who knew in such chaotic times, but the thing was nothing but rags, patched with leather from strange beasts and a strap made of some dead carnivorous vine and where those patches were filled leaked something dark. Something corrupted. Just like every facet of Thraxis, this bag had somehow become a disturbing thing. Not sentient, not alive. Simply, disturbing. In that bag, he pulled out his blade, locked it in a hand, flipped on his Enigma Mask and coiled himself in his Cloak for warmth before finally flipping to his CommUnit, some message from some guy called Matador. He uh... Nope, not a clue. But it had been thirty-seven and a half years, how was he to know all the names these days?

It seemed luck had found him, given him a kick up the arse and told him where to go. He wasn't too sure what a Finnevvian Fox looked like, and the cultists sounded like a waste of time. Who doesn't go after the cultists in this time fueled by death, destruction and whatnot, it was the Foxes he was sure was the real prize, though Crucifying did sound like a right good old time, he knew his calling in life. He was huntin' Foxes, not for sport or anything, but figured that was probably his best bet if he wanted off this planet. Hoping that he got a lift if he could bring in enough pelts. And with that, a flick of the button, he vanished. They were foxes, and there was one thing he knew about foxes. They were scavnngers. Lest evolution had taken proper hold and changed that aspect, he was surrounded by a hunting ground, a deceased fresh carcass, a net to catch, and a cloak to cover him up, now all he needed was patience....

 

[Asteria deWinter]

Objective: The Mystery of the Peak, Follow the Trail ( B )
Post: 1

The Ice Princess had landed upon the ground of the planet, emerald eyes observing the cold that awaited her outside. There were stories, she recalled the of a planet that hat sounded so heavenly and divine, covered in snow with structures made of ice. Long ago, she'd searched for such a planet, a planet that Asteria could call her own yet in her travels, she had not found such a world. The information given to her about Haven sounded promising and yet... it did not fit with the stories she had heard.

Yet, she was summoned to come, summoned the inspect something only the chosen could feel. It was clear now, it was a loud summon, a murmur against her soul. Loud enough for her to indeed wish to climb the menacing mountain that lay ahead of her. In her descent, she hadn't seen a higher peak than the Peak itself. A massive source of power, they had said, yet that was not enough for the entire picture of what lay ahead.

Rising to her feet, she glanced at her companion droid who seemed eager in his movements. He too had come from a planet covered in snow, though Hoth wasn't like this planet. "Stay here, this is not a mission for a droid," she instructed him, causing the large white metallic creature to pause and look at her. "Why" The droid suddenly wondered, her head lowering towards him. "Simon. Not the time for arguing. Stay and watch the ship. Keep it closed until my return." She ordered again, refusing to waste time explaining herself to him. "But what will I do until you return? I will be bored," Simon continued none the less as she'd made her way through the cockpit, her feet pausing as she looked back at him. "Do whatever it is that you do when I am not around."

Before the droid had another chance to reply, Lady deWinter made her way out of her ship, her shoes landing upon the thick snow. Her mouth extended for a moment, her breath visible. There was a coldness to her skin, a gently pleasing sensation against the Mistress of Element, born with a unique gift which differed from those of her Mother or siblings. Indeed, some of them had an affinity towards different elements but none of them towards the cold the way Asteria had always.

Out in the open, the pull towards the Peak seemed stronger somehow, louder inside her head as it called, forcing her to move off the ramp completely. She reached for her communicator, speaking back to the Ice Princess. "Close the ramp," she ordered Simon from the outside. A few moments later, the time lost on her droid moving towards the ship jack, it closed behind her. "Remain inside, keep the ship locked until I returned," she instructed one more time. "Yes, Mistress," the droid's voice returned, this time not arguing with her.

Then, she'd changed the channel on her device, contacting the Agramar-class Cathedral ship. "The Ice Princess has landed. The reports were correct, the call of the Peak is strong though unclear. Beginning my journey," she spoke before she continued moving, emerald eyes drawing higher to the sky, as far as she could see from where she had arrived. No one else had arrived, not as far she could tell though she could feel her Sense distracted by the stronger source demanding her presence. Asteria was aware that there were others with a different task than the one those like her would be facing. It didn't interest her though. Her attention was on the journey that lay ahead.

[member="The Matador"] [member="Mythos"]​

 

[Aeron Tosh]

Objective A

Post: 2

Aeron, while walking out of the shuttle was called over to [member="Formorta"] who actually had a good plan unlike the dumb trigger happy soldiers who he unwillingly had to share a shuttle with.

"Ok, that sounds good"

Then he flicked his cloaking device on and hurried to the first camp

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Objective: B | The Peak
Post: 01
Passive Objective: Try not to stare
​Attn: [member="Mythos"] | [member="Asteria deWinter"]

​The A-44 Shuttle drew to a slow humming halt as the Matador rose slightly, his hunched form hidden under the woven black cloak as the shuttle doors opened. Red eyes inspected the winter storm as the cold air reached the metallic plates of the Matador's armour, a puff of hot air escaping his mouth as he disembarked, joining Lady deWinter nearby the beginning of the mountainous valley. The mountain known as the peak, stretched upward impossibly into the sky; dark clouds of electric thunder massing around its higher steep walls. The blackened valley of rock topped with ice, the alpine growth that once blossomed in a fevering green; now reduced to a black and withering growth that appeared as though some dark sickness perforated the ground beneath their feet.

​"Lady DeWinter.."

​The behemoth pulled the black fur cloak around the cuff of his wrist, slowly trailing up beside Ice Princess, staying a few feet away. The massive armoured colossus sinking slightly into the ground, his black armoured chest puffing outward as the red eyes observed the Ice Princess stood, observing the sky.

​"We shouldn't tarry."

 

[Zet Anaa]

Pursuant to Objective B || Mystery of the Peak
Post || 1​

Secondary Objective || Assist the Matador, Assess the Faithful
ATTN || [member="The Matador"] | [member="Asteria deWinter"]​

​

It was a rare treat, indeed, for Zet to be released from his small leash in order to traverse the galaxy.​

Starflight - this glorious gift from the gods - why had they held it back for so long? ​

Because the faithful were unready, of course. First they had to be purified, released from the blotches of disbelief that had so thoroughly owned their people. How else could one explain the gods tarrying? Yet, here they were. ​

Zet stood mesmerized, staring out the viewport of the Cathedral ship and viewing the second planet that Agyma - praises to his name! - had allowed him to see. It was still difficult for him to process the journey here, through what could only be described as the gods' playground.​

A part of him feared - could the gods really allow him to live after what he'd seen? Where he'd been?​

But yes, others had survived travel through the heavens, why should the gods decide the he was unworthy? ​

I am a zealot, he thought to himself, pride and conviction swelling inside his chest. Of course the gods would deem him worthy - would any hold such fierce devotion toward the gods as he?​

Shame gripped him as he realized his blasphemy. Of course there were others with greater devotion, the idea that he was above the priests - above the undead! - was anathema.​

Maybe equal to, however.​

​

Zet had followed silently as the Matador left the Cathedral ship on route to his shuttle. Partially in silence because it was his role, partially - however - due to his inability to process the gift the gods had bestowed on him. Boarding the A-44 shuttle, he had strapped himself in for the trip to their landing location and begun to mentally prepare. He'd thought it unwise to dress in his full Adjudicator regalia for this quest, and so instead had borrowed a simple set of armor from the War-Chief's armory. It was nothing special, but it would protect him - as would Agyma, praise be rendered. He'd brought with him his personal plasma spear as a weapon - one that he was proficient in. The long, durasteel stave was intricately carved with his own prayers, up and down the long cylinder. The tip had receptacles on top that emitted a small, triangular arc of plasma energy. It was a weapon he'd trained with since youth.​

​

As the shuttle landed, Zet disembarked behind the Matador and followed him to where the Lady deWinter stood. The War-Chief's declaration that they shouldn't linger seemed like a good one, Zet thought, as he looked at the ominous mountain looming overhead.​

​

"For Khaemt," he said under his breath.​

 

[Sekhet-ka-nefer]

Current Objective: B | The Peak
Post 01
ATTN: [member="The Matador"] | [member="Asteria deWinter"] | [member="Zet Anaa"]

Surely, the accompanying priestess would have marveled at the beauty of interstellar travel with the same amount of awe as the older male had while on their way to the planet, yet she could not! For as beautiful as the black expanse may have been, it held little to no importance to Sekhet, not when compared to the gods-given duties that come with her station; leading of pre-battle prayers, calling for the gods' will to bless their righteous forces, and preparing herself for the journey up the colossal mountain of interest all precedence before anything else that would otherwise distract her mortal mind.

But here, on this shuttle, she could not be further from focused on her task as she could be now. For all of her life, Sekhet had lived and thrived upon Ankhypt's sandy surface. Not once did she ever visit a location that was even remotely as cold as she knew that mountains often were - and she was to climb up one! The towering Anubian's ceremonial armor did nothing to cover her face, which was currently plainly covered wih no small amount of apprehension at the prospect of such cold temperatures. She was all too aware of how her kind's physiology worked, and how hard of a time she would have in this cold place. It was with these intimidating thoughts floating around in the back of her mind that Sekhet tightened her grip on the heavy gray fur cloak that she currently had wrapped around her shoulders, muttering more than a few explicit phrases below her breath in the Anubian tongue as she rose up from her seat.

Once the Matador and Zet Anaa had fully exited the shuttle, the tall Anubian was soon to follow, holding back a soft shiver as Haven's air all but smacked into her like a wall. The lower temperature wasn't unbearable, as of yet, but it would certainly be an annoyance to the desert-born canine. Pushing aside her annoyance at such an uncomfortable climate, Sekhet readjusted the hoodless cloak with a lazy shrug of her shoulders before she continued on to the Matador's side, slowly sweeping her gaze across the others that were present.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Objective: B | The Peak
Post: 02
Passive Objective: Don't break anything
​Attn: [member="Mythos"] | [member="Sekhet-ka-nefer"] | [member="Zet Anaa"] | [member="Asteria deWinter"]

The Matador stood unbridling the black thick fur from between his metal pincer like fingers as he watched both the High Adjudicator and Sekhet left the shuttle shortly after himself, red eyes observed them as their thin elegant limbs carried them forward, bracing against the barren ground. A desert of some kind to be sure.

​He was very much aware that like his own, the Anubians fared no better in the blistering cold that surrounded them. No doubt the passive tundra would grow beyond aggressive as they reached the peak. That meant, with every step they took onward. Himself and those of fire like himself would acknowledge that with every stride onward they would be met with pain. This was the very meaning of Strength, of Power. To strive onward in the face of pain, to endure what may come for the greater motive of power. This was what Khaemt, the God of Perfectum wished for all. This was a challenge, and his loyal Adjudicator would see that the Chieftain was worthy above all.

​"The cold, it bites like any beast."

The Matador's gaze fell upon the form of the Warrior-Priestess for a lingering moment as he stood just beyond Lady deWinter with a large stride, his cloak collecting the snow in tuffs at the edges of his cloak, small blots slipping upward from where heavy black and chrome feet rose. ​

"Stings like any blade."

A chrome clad hand rising as he reached a steeper edge, and what felt like some thick veil. The true beginning of their journey, like stepping into a gaseous room in search of a needle in a haystack. Red eyes moving sporadically as the Matador suddenly felt as though a thousand eyes had fallen upon him, as if some great witness had come abound, watching and waiting. He felt the presence, his brow furrowing as his hands moved defiantly; thrusting the black fur cloak from his shoulders and aside from their path.

​"I fear no blade. The gods will this pain upon us, and I embrace it."

​The Chieftain moved forward, beginning upward as a rock path up the side of a mountain became clear only but a few feet ahead, leading to a wide open valley that seemed to dive for miles. Beyond that, he could not see nor sense.

 

[Kalyn Tal'verda]

[member="Formorta"] [member="Thraxis"] [member="Aeron Tosh"]
As the rest of Team A landed the shuttle ramp opened and the PMCs started unloading the crates. Once outside, she had the PMCs place the crates on the ground and crack them open, inside were the net guns and the ammunition. Lyra grabbed one and cleared her throat.

"Alright the first priority here is retrieval of live Finnevian Fox specimens, they are small and blend in with the snow, so we recommend the use of thermal goggles or other thermal imaging systems in order to better get a feel for their location, not to mention the perpetual white out conditions. Now i need a volunteer to help demonstrate the proper operation of the system."

The PMCs kind of looked nervously at each other before forcefully shoving a young private forward.

"Perfect, now to load the weapon shove a canister down the muzzle of the gun, make sure that the red ring is facing out towards the environment. Now these are designed to interfere with the Finnevian Foxes ability to "phase" basically tazing them and then wrapping them up tightly. An unintended consequence of this property means that the nets can also be used as a non lethal threat neutralizer in a pinch, like so."

Before the poor private even had a chance to react Lyra fire the net gun at him, he began to spasm before falling to the ground, the net wrapping him up rather tightly.

"He will probably be ok." She said with a passive shrug. "Make sure there is atleast one net gun per squad, that will be all."

She then put the net gun on her back using the attached shoulder strap and began to organizer her team, she would be focusing on capturing foxes, crucifixion really wasn't in her job description, she would leave the cultists to the professionals.

 

[Zet Anaa]

Pursuant to Objective B || Mystery of the Peak
Post || 2​

Secondary Objective || Assist the Matador, Assess the Faithful
ATTN || [member="The Matador"] | [member="Asteria deWinter"] | [member="Sekhet-ka-nefer"]​

​

Thank Khaemt for body armor. It was cold - the chill was manageable to one trained to serve the gods with his life, though it was nearly akin to the most blistering cold he'd ever felt on the warm surface of his home planet. He knew from the briefing that it would get worse before it would get better, but he would pass through the refiner's fire - or blizzard, as the case would be more aptly described - with the help of his faith.​

He nodded slightly at the younger priestess as she made her way out of the shuttle behind him. It was good that they would suffer the tests of the gods together - joint trials always served to bind the people closer together.​

​

The landscape around them was barren and empty, nearly resembling the deserts of his homeworld. The similarities were eerie, as if a caricature of what his home could have been had it been rejected by the gods instead of becoming their charge. Barren, rocky dunes jutted out of the uneven surface around them, a layer of ice coating what could have been remnants from ancient volcanic eruptions. Perhaps Agyma had come here to enlighten this world's inhabitants, as well - bringing fire and brimstone to prove his name. The people had clearly been inferior, either rejecting the great wisdom of the gods or unable to understand it.​

Yes, this must be why the gods abandoned this place.​

​

The rocky path to the mountains was ominous, striking the picture into Zet's mind of a ritual path to purification. He had traveled those paths before, many times - but none through such godless terrain as this. The gods emitted warmth and flame - in their presence one could find the comfort and rest provided by their heat, or the consuming fire of their divine might depending on the condition of their inner self. Clearly this people had been found unworthy, so the gods warmth had been withdrawn. ​

Yes, this must be why the gods abandoned these people.​

​

The storms that emanated from the unfathomable peaks bore malice and hatred. Zet almost longed for the heat of those storms. Could it be that a last bastion of the gods patience lingered there? But no, this tempest clearly spoke of a rejection of the gods. A cloud of burning rebellion, attempting to hold out against the gods rejection of this world. Without the gods favor this world would surely die, so this storm must be the last effort of whatever puny power existed here. It would be good for the light of the gods to shine on this world from their chosen vessels. Perhaps, through this very sacrifice, this planet would once again experience the life-giving heat of the gods.​

​

"Chieftain," Zet said, bowing his head slightly in respect as he spoke. The War-Chief's words strengthened his already stalwart resolve; long, slender fingers gripped the carved durasteel of his spear with greater intensity. "It has been granted to us this day to be the instruments of our gods, bringing judgment to those who would dare oppose their righteous rule. I am honored for my part in this quest. Your words hasten my feet toward victory."​

​

With that, Zet began to follow up the mountain, salivating at the inevitable conflict to come.​

 

[Jayce Pryde]

Objective A clear out camp's and capture fluffy woodland creatures.

Current location Sleeping in the cockpit of a Stolen T77 on-board an Agramar class Cathedral Ship.

Allies we will find out.

He had been quite tired after stealing the T77 stealth interceptor from the main hangers and hiding it aboard the huge Cathedral ship, So he had crawled into the cockpit to meditate... Which soon turned into a sleeping Jayce.

He snapped awake suddenly, banging his head on the canopy and letting out a string of obscenities that would make a hutt blush. He rubbed his head softly as he gazed around and realized he no longer heard the soothing thrumming of hyperdrive engines.... They had landed... It was time.

After giving himself a moment to awaken fully, Jayce began to flip switches and set gauges causing the Interceptor to throttle to life with a near silent hum. With the engines powered up and the weapons activating the young Sith gently pushed forward on the throttle and adjusted the lateral thrusters causing the ship to lift from the hanger floor and slowly begin to creep towards the hanger door, which began to open slowly after Jayce types a code into his console.

With the door fully open and his ship systems all in the green Pryde shoved the throttle forward and blasted out of the Cathedral ship like a scalded keth hound before twisting into a climbing roll and zooming off to scout out cultist camp's.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Objective: B | The Peak
Post: 03
Passive Objective: Don't break anything
​Attn: [member="Mythos"] | @Sekhet-ka-nefer | [member="Zet Anaa"] | [member="Asteria deWinter"]

​The Matador stopped for but a moment, his chrome chin anchoring to the left in acknowledgement of the High Adjudicator's words of encouragement, noting his steadfast mentality; hungering for the challenge to come. He admired that innate conviction within the hearts of the Anubian race, that sense of pride in facing adversity with all of their might. The gods had truly blessed them, as they had him. One of the last of his kind, if not the last.

​Though he bore no heed to that call, their end was not his. His red eyes attempted to pierce the veil ahead, massive feet heaving upward as he climbed slowly up the steep ramp like rock formation ahead. The Matador braced his right hand against the mountains rock, pulling himself upward as his eyes caught a slender form nearly a mile apart from their current position, like a shadow lingering on the edge of a cliff that held perch over the steep black valley. His eyes squinted as the Matador urged himself a little closer, his pace quickening as he pulled himself closer to the turn of the passage. His eyes re-adjusted as lightning struck down some few hundred metres away. As the light faded, the silhouette had disappeared.

​His eyes re-adjusted as his body slightly hunched, head observing the cliff ahead. He returned to a straightened stance for a moment, his upper torso slowly turning with the sound of churning metal as he faced his compatriots.

​"I doubt we are alone. Through this malevolent force, the gods have sent spectres to challenge us."

​The bestial electronic words came out slowly as his eyes shifted back to what laid ahead. He had no preconceptions as to what tests may lay ahead, only that there would be many.

 

[Asteria deWinter]

Objective: The Mystery of the Peak, Follow the Trail ( B )
Post: 2

There was a presence with those strength, especially those who possessed power and their pulse beat with the Force. Such was the massive create that simply referred himself as the Matador. Their War-Chieftan. Asteria didn't think much of the large man that surrounded himself with metal, if he was a man indeed in the sense she was used to. It was possible he was and was not, Lady deWinter did not dwell on this. He served his gods with the God-King, and thus it was the attention he had been given. Which was, by Asteria's standards, extensive even.

Her head had turned to his arrival, only partially seeing the tall man, hearing him address her properly. "War-Chieftain," she returned flatly before she would hear the next sentence. They shouldn't have tarried. "Indeed," the woman agreed before her emerald gaze noted the company behind him, yet her attention remained with the Chieftain as he chose now to argue of the cold, speaking of the way it bit and stung. Did it though? "Does it?" She asked. "It feels quite soothing," Asteria considered, with a trace of a long forgotten feeling... was it perhaps a form of joy she felt in the gold? It was strong, intense yet still, comforting in an odd way yet the weil ahead demanded her attention, forcing her to keep moving.

The higher they moved, the more sure she was she was losing sight of the skies above them, as if the peak itself was a illusion of some sorts, only the veil remaining ahead now. The long ending of her dress dragged behind her, the snow becoming thicker yet the summon was clear, it was harder and harder to consider stopping now. All until she was met with the veil, almost as though she was face to face with something living, though the thought seemed almost mad. "It watches and knows?" She wondered outloud, though only to herself in reality before watching the Matador pass through and then he was gone. And she too went through, without hesitation, suddenly further watched, as if she was being studied. "It knows." She knew now though the feelings swept through her, washing over her being without her fully understanding, the watchful eyes following her through.

[member="The Matador"] [member="Zet Anaa"] [member="Sekhet-ka-nefer"]​

 

[Formorta]

Objective: A clear out the camps and cover capture team
Post: 2
Allies: [member="Lyra Sarn"] [member="Aeron Tosh"]

Aeron's response was quick short and two the point, something she liked, at the very lest the plan seemed to be agreed upon, now they just needed to teach these mercenaries how to use the equipment for catching the beast, PMC's where not usually trained to this extent. Arms crossed and looking on in an observant manner Formorta's red eye observed the demonstration. Her more than casual way of carrying out the lesson though working seemed to be rather sinister, though in all honesty she herself probably would have done it the same way, maybe have the private move around a bit to make it challenging.

"If everyone has their things ready I suggest we move out, Lyra we will give the signal when a path through the cams have been made, though I cannot guarantee that you will not counter any resistance. If the cultists have even the slightest IQ they may have noticed the AE ships in orbit and may be sending some troops to guard the beasts, all I can say is good hunting, and don't die". Cocking her rifles bolt she turned back to the PAC Ops agent and accompany mercenaries not a part of the capture team, "Aeron, we have 6 camps to take off, we will begin with the forward and side basses, spread our attacks out but keep them concentrate".

"This will open up several entrances which they will not be able to defend if the catch wind of the other team, split your the agents up into even squads make sure each team has a sniper or marksmen of some sort, now let us be off time is wasting". Giving a universal hand signal the Agents and PMC's started to move out towards the targets, thermal imaging, scanners and other observation devices being used to keep an eye out for any potential ambush along the way, each small group splitting off to their designated camps to attack. Each individual trying to move as silently as possible, the ever constant fearful enviroment blanketing the worlds surface.

 

[Ellie Mors]

'Til I Collapse

Post: 1
Objective: B

She wasn't like the rest of them - or, what she was under the impression that the rest of them were like. She didn't believe in these deities that the others worshiped, followed, and she didn't tag along out of some sort of honor-bound sense of duty. There was no simple way to wrap her mind around why she was here, around who she was - around why she was - but she was here, standing in the cold. Here to understand, she supposed - to grasp what it is that she was - and here to help others succeed in their own goals as she worked to discover the road that led back to her own. It was hard, of course, to be not quite one individual but also not exist as many, either. In a world without the force, without the mysticism that came with it, she might have been considered insane, delusional - psychotic. Memories that were both hers and someone else's fluttered through her mind every time she closed her eyes - and not only one single other person's, but a sea of them. The mere concept of her existence was nearly overwhelming, to experience feelings and hear thoughts that were simultaneously foreign and intimately familiar to her.

And despite her existence as a walking contradiction, the thousand souls that made up Braith Achlys strode up the mountain pass towards the peak, white knuckles clenched tight around the shaft of her spear. She had forgone armor on this trip, opting instead to wear heavy winter clothing. This was her crucible, to purge this world of what evils lurked atop this mountain, and she chose to walk the path less traveled, vulnerable without her armor and without the sabers she'd learned to wield in place of a sword. The spear in her right hand was an extension of herself, just as much a part of her as the skin that covered her flesh and bone, and it would be her only weapon beyond the force that she would use in her trial.

Violet eyes blinked away the ice and snow that threatened to blind her, her breath visible as little wisps of white and gray that swirled away from parted, chapped, lips. "Interesting." She whispered, quite aware that she was not alone on this trek - and neither were the small company of those from the Ancient Eye, even if she included herself among them. Ahead she could see [member="Asteria deWinter"] and [member="The Matador"], along with [member="Zet Anaa"] and [member=Sekhet-ka-nefer], and beyond those traveling together was a presence not unlike her own - a presence that was as intriguing to her as it was a calling to those so deeply invested in their faith.

 

[Jayce Pryde]

Objective- Cull the Cultists
Location- Haven, Northern areas.
Allies- still lookin

He had heard of this wretched planet before leaving, a sinister place filled with death and Dark side spectres. It was not a very nice place which he was quickly learning.

Somehow between leaving the ship and flying to the nearest cultist camp Jayce picked up at least two bogeys.... And they were coming in hot.

Nothing showed on his radar but his force senses were going crazy as he felt the twin spectres speeding up to his rear.... "Shits about to get interesting" He stated to himself as he yanked the throttle back causing the reversal thrusters to blaze to life for just long enough for the spectres to scream past. Once both were in front of Pryde he reignited the thrusters and have chase to the spectres while during short burst from the T77's laser batteries... Several shot flying straight through the spectres with little to no effect.

Seeing as the ship's weapons were useless Jayce had no choice but to try and evade his would be attackers.....

 

[Mythos]

Objective: B
Post: 1
Allies: [member="Braith Achlys"] [member="Asteria deWinter"] [member="The Matador"] [member="Zet Anaa"] @Sekhet-ka-nefer

One time before he saw the ancient power that a world could unleash but now Mythos brought with him allies of their previous conquest to aid them in this ascension against something like that. Time had to be taken, preparations had to be made and logistic points had to be set up, The Magnus was nothing if not tactical and strategic in any movement he did. When he caught up with his allies in the ascension of this cliff he came at the helm of a small pack of humans with robes and an emblazoned insignia on their cloth clothing that was unmistakable to the historically aware. The Sorcerers of Tund. It was not difficult to include them into Mythos' forces, he himself was well versed in the ways of magic especially Illusions which they boasted themselves masters of. When reached by the Sith Lord and new ruler of their world the talks were short and the enlistment was quick, they both had the same goal in mind, they both had the same plan to execute to acquire it: Power and Domination.

"My apologies for the late arrival, our friends needed some time to prepare and transport." He said, snapping the bones in his spine and back to prepare for the trek ahead. At his back a medium size backpack with food and water also several weapons, his hood made of leather and draping over his young facial features, his boots made from loose plasteel and leather reinforced shin and knee guards for stability, his chest rested scabbards of throwing knives of alchemical nature and a blaster pistol. Upon his left shoulder rested his own skull and across his back rested his rudis, each creating upon themselves a dual nexus of darkside energy. In truth he looked less like a ruler and a king, less with the shining gold plated and jeweled 'God-King' and more like a mercenary warrior sith the style of [member="Judas Foster"].

"Whatever is beyond this i believe will not be kind to intruders" He said, a smile creeping to his face as he pulled back his hood and let his long hair blow on the wind while he shot several hand signals to the NSF and his sorcerers. It was very clear, Mythos was massive on security for anyone he was with, no one traveled alone, no one parted the main battle force without a contingent. The sorcerers traveled half a click behind but the NSF could hardly be spotted, they were to stay out of sight and out of mind but if need be Mythos would pull them to service and get ready to crack heads... but he knew deep down they would be useless if his visions were correct.

He did no sense the dark side of the force beyond this plane, not beyond this veil that the force had cast and this force forsaken mist... ergo... it would hate dark siders, that was good. "Mathaias Thi-mhul" He shouted, through the force while bringing his right hand up and flashing the rune carved upon his palm. He began to conjure his power of alter-enviorment to move the veil and clear the way for his allies, to bend the lightning that struck under his control and to bend mother nature to his will like a beaten dog and an indentured servant. "I will do you to you what i did to Angramar..." He said, through the force in a low growl directed at the very essence of the force of this planet called Haven. "Obey..."​