The Slog (Dominion Tier 2 Dom of Vjun and Aargonar)

[Bhakt Wemk]

(8/25)

Bhakt nodded and began heading toward the overhang with some of the wounded ahead of Darius. He was already liking the Dominion if this is how they conducted themselves. During his pirate days, the ship was practically a dictatorship with only the captain making decisions.

He looked behind him as he walked as Darius voiced his concerns. Bhakt simply assumed they Mecrosa were retreating to regroup at the castle itself or the small fortress before it. A noise then came to Bhakt's ears. He wasn't quite sure what it was and he had difficulty making it out over the sound of the constant droning rain. It sounded like whistling. The Nikto looked all around as the noise grew louder until finally looking up. Time seemed to slow as Bhakt saw the shells. He had no time to get to cover, no time to warn anyone, and no way to stop them. So the Nikto did all he could, he growled and braced himself.

The first shell sent him flying forward, though being ahead of most of the Dominion forces saved him from the searing fire. Still, it was enough to knock the wind out of him and the resulting tumble ended in several cuts to his arms and legs from Vjun jagged surface. He looked up from his back and shielded his eyes from the rain and now falling debris. After what felt like an hour he took a deep ragged breath and coughed. Explosions still rocked the ground, throwing up dust and more debris. He couldn't even begin to see what effect this was having on the Dominion forces. He cursed as a shell hit just close enough to make his ears ring. He qued the comms on all friendly channels hoping one was the squadron of fighters helping them.

"This is ground team! We're getting shelled to karking hell down here. Need immediate air support if able. Find those damn gu....Ahhh!"

A shell sending him flying cut Bhakt short on the comms. He rolled again receiving a few more cuts, but as he came to a stop something seemed wrong. There was a searing pain in his left arm and once Bhakt regained enough sense to look he spat as he saw a shard of rock wedged into his arm. He growled and began the process of trying to remove, and just hoped a shell didn't land on his head.

[member="Jack Anderson"] [member="Darius Sedaire"] [member="Lok Jorunn"]

 

[Klesta]

Location: Aargonar
Objective: Defeat the Vong warlord
Allies: Dominion [member="Causstik Rahn"] [member="Alyson Halle"] [member="Tandar Dest"]
Enemies: Vong warlord
Post: 5/25

"Remember: when the dust cloud approaches, they will be able to refuel and rearm but as long as it hasn't come, we have a chance"

"Tastidian's been hit!" Pixie reported.

The enemy coralskippers ran out of ammunition faster than they expected, especially since the dovin basal needed more energy to keep the craft moving, as they attempted to fight off the Dominion fighters in dogfights. The enemy initially met with some successes but, this time around, Tastidian being hit, and shot down, caused the remaining bomb to detonate, setting off a chain reaction that caused the second bomb to detonate. That's one big explosion in the center of the fortress, all right, but the enemy is down nearly half of its coralskippers by now; Yula was furiously chasing the coralskipper that shot down the pilot whose callsign was Tastidian at a few kilometers' altitude, but the more it maneuvered, the more it had to slow down, sensing that its energy was running low. That was Yula's chance to shoot it down in a stern chase, and then the coralskipper explodes after five seconds of firing at a steadily decelerating coralskipper from behind: now she can truly say that she was a Sith Ace, with two extra kills in this sortie. But then another coralskipper began to chase Daisy in a very similar fashion, and she had to make a hard right turn to do it.

"I've got one behind me, you see it?"

"I'm on it, Porkins"

Attack craft:

Spoiler

16 Artemis-class starfighters
8 Yutan-class bombers

 

[Tyberius Fel]

Vjun was a planet shrouded in darkness and madness ever since it's conception. A refuge for the Sith, a canvas for human testing by a family of mad rulers. The history books rarely had anything kind to say about the lifeless hunk of rock and withered plants.

A tall figure, concealed by a dusty brown shroud navigated it's barren surface. Long silver hair, like wisps of milkglass flowed out from beneath the cowl that concealed his countenance. The cloaked outline knelt down beside a stagnant puddle of acid rain and slowly caressed the stem of a putrid smelling carrion flower. It was fitting, the Jedi Knight supposed, that such grim life would be among the only creatures to flourish upon such a grim planet. With a expert deftness in his movements, he snipped through the dark matted fibers of the bloom and tucked it neatly away in a small bag at his hip. This was the sum of Vorian's toil for the past months; endless prodding about and botany. He longed to make a difference in the galaxy, but with the fall of the Republic he was condemned to work which he knew logically was important, but seemed like useless flower picking in the face of all the suffering in the galaxy.

Vorian rose to his full height and tilted his chin to the sky which erupted with the blistering report of atmospheric combat.

A change from the monotony. He supposed.

 

[Placeholder 0128]

A thousand minds screamed their eternal chorus at the back of Cedric's skull. They called for guidance. The doubts and fears of an army crashed against the walls of Cedric's mind, but the barrier held. Not a single fissure was born within the confines of his mental defense; not a crack could be seen. The youth watched the madness from afar, his mind's eye serving him to a far greater purpose than those he had been born with. The newly named Archlord sat alone in his clearing near the FOB on Vjun. This area had been secured some time ago, though the Macrosa still tried to break through the defense whenever possible.

Cedric denied them at every turn.

He felt these fears, these aches, and he annihilated them. With a gesture of his will, such doubts were washed away, replaced by the assuredness of victory. His presence was everywhere; his power over the minds of his warriors near omnipotent. He felt every shake from the mortar fire, heard every crack of a blaster rifle, tasted the acid rain upon his lips. All of this was felt in a muted level, constrained by the grated gates of Cedric's mind. Were they to come at him in their purest form, his mind would shatter.

His presence was like a gentle hand upon the shoulder. A word pride from a father. The embrace of a lover. The rallying cry of a warlord. All those on Vjun would feel the youth's presence; his encouragement.

Two of the 501st guardsmen took note of a strange man drawing close. Both raised their rifles as they took up defensive positions by the young Archlord. Perturbed by the disturbance, Cedric opened his eyes to take in the Arkanian.

"Hello," he tilted his head toward the fellow, the two soldiers lowering their weapons. Part of his mind retained the battle-meditation, whilst another was broken away to deal with the physical realm. Clad in robes the shade of bright vitae, the Archlord looked up from his position on the ground, a curious brow raised.

[member="Vorian Adasca"], [member="Bhakt Wemk"], [member="Lok Jorunn"]

 

[Tyberius Fel]

While the report of blaster fire and the earth-shattering rage of artillery echoed in the distance the guns fell silence nearest to him, signaling the triumph of one faction in local set of skirmishes. Vorian stood statuesque in the open, watching the mud and viscera stained helmets and breastplates of soldiers continue their inexorable advance. They didn't move in robotic marching formation; instead sprinting in tightly segmented squads from rock to rock, from cover to cover. The Arkanian's sharp iris caught a glimpse of a infamous sigil -- the 501st. Of course any Empire that boasted the most infamous military unit that had ever scorched the face of the galaxy would be the victors in nearly any conflict, assuming this wasn't a set of the usual imitators.

A figure manifested infront of him, tall and regal with all the airs of authority yet his face, oddly familiar, betrayed his boyhood. With the slightest flicker of body language, the soldiers lowered their rifles and the subtle tendril of force that the boy slipped into each and every one of his subordinate's minds suddenly became apparent. Battle meditation?

The boy greeted him with a simple 'hello.'

"You approach me with a retinue of some of the most reviled Jedi Hunters of all time."

There was a time where Vorian would have done his best to diplomatically sooth potential tensions and avoid conflicts entirely, but now a lethal combination of ennui and impotence stroked the fires of aggression.

"If you desire my head, then prepare to pay dearly for it."

He dropped his lightsaber hilt from his sleeve into his palm.

[member="Cedric Grayson"]

 

[Placeholder 0128]

The being of white saw Cedric and his retinue as a threat. The man was wrong to do so, but then who could truly blame the specter? The 501st was a terrifying sight to behold in conflict, and their reputation was one that stretched back centuries before the youth's birth. A simple shake of his head was enough to make the two soldiers return to the clearing. They would only serve to intimidate this fellow further, and that was something that young Cedric found himself wishing to avoid. The young Archlord's lips pressed into a thin smile.

"They serve another purpose now." The boy said simply, his voice oozing the smooth confidence of a man assured in his victory. Even now, he felt the legios marching upon the castle of Bast. He could not know how the conflict was going on Aargonar, but he assumed it moved just as successfully.

"You think too much of yourself if you believe this force has come for you." The youth worded, his tone and manner of holding himself far exceeding his years. "I do not kill Jedi, I shelter them. I represent the Dominion, and we are purging this world of its Mecrosan overlords." A tilt of that crimson-sheathed face indicated the battle beyond.

"You seem lost," he continued, his voice a quiet thing. All at once, his mind receded from those of his army. For now, they could fight for themselves. They did not need his influence. "Are you?" Gray eyes peered out from the hem of his cowl, curious.

[member="Vorian Adasca"]

 

[Shorarri]

Shorarri paced the inside of his cell. It was cramped, the iron bars were rusted, and the floors were made of some sort of rough concrete. The only source water was a puddle in the corner and their was no place to use the restroom aside from a small bucket. Shorarri groaned in dismay. It was Kashyyyk all over again. Memories of the Trandoshan slave camp came flooding back to him. Shorarri had no desire to become a slave ever again, but yet here he was. Locked inside a cage. A guard approached and Shorarri waited patiently. He had a plan.

 

[Alexandros]

Post 7
Surface of Vjun

Alexandros had arrived on Vjun ready to bring the conquering sprite of Hora to this battlefield, it had already been bogged down once by a combination of an ambush and artillery fire, amateur mistakes from the original commander, Alexandros had tried to prove him wrong but in his rush to cross the artillery fire he got separated from his men and captured, rather easily, it was quite embarrassing. Now he awoke deep within the enemy compound, a prisoner, there was another than shared his cell, a wookie by the looks of all the fur and no pants.

Alexandros crept over and spoke in a low voice, "Hey, you wanna get out out of here? I have a plan."

[member="Shorarri"]

 

[Tyberius Fel]

"Lost." Vorian said with a vague emptiness and felt the decibels fade away into the buzz of warfare that would always torture the shadowed planet. The Arkanian refixated his pupils onto Cedric's visage searchingly, scanning every facet and curve of the cheekbone. The boy was familiar, but why? The truth remained tantalizingly out of his reach. With a sigh, Vorian shoulders slumped resignedly.

"Lost, perhaps. But I am a Jedi.." His voice faltered almost imperceivably for a singular moment as he continued, "And Jedi are not sellswords ready to lease their sabers out to Imperialistic regimes who always drape their conquest in the robes of liberation." Vorian squinted, sensing out the boy's intentions.

[member="Cedric Grayson"]

 

[Shorarri]

Shorarri was startled as the bum that shared his cell awoke. A scragly man with almost as much hair on his face as Shorarri's. The man spoke of having a plan and Shorarri nodded. [Human I have a plan as well] Shorarri roared. The guard inserted his arms to deposit a nasty grey gruel and Shorarri grabbed him. He tugged on the guards arms hard and the vong roared in pain. Then the arm came free from the alien's body, gruel still in hand. The guard slumped to the ground still holding the stump where his arm used to be. [FINALLY, MEAT!] Shorarri roared happily. Then he took a fat chunk out of the arm with his serated teeth. Vong flesh, not the best, the meat was gamy and tough. Still some meat was better then none. [I have eaten and now am ready to hear your plan] Shorarri said through a mouthful of Vong flesh

[member="Alexandros"]

 

[Placeholder 0128]

[member="Vorian Adasca"]

10/25

"Do you just make a habit out of assuming things?"

The youth quirked a brow at the Arkanian, his gaze traveling out toward the battle beyond. The thousands of mind interlinked to his own called out once more. An issue had arisen at the gates. Gray eyes drifted shut, and for a moment, Cedric's mind drifted into the aether. A surge of encouragement passed through the warriors like a benevolent sickness, infecting each and every one of their minds. The effort was somewhat taxing on the young man, and he found his body drooping partway when his eyes finally opened.

"The Dominion is a republic. We embrace democracy. These people were slaughtering our trade caravans, along with a number of others." A gloved hand reached out to indicate the conflict below. The Macrosans were being pushed back, though the fighting moved with a slow and brutal flow to it.

"You call yourself a Jedi, yet you linger on a place such as this." The boy's smile shifted to something more sad, like that of a boy sending a close friend off to bigger and better things. "You are lost. That much is true," the red-clad figure turned to that of white. "It hurts, doesn't it?"

 

[Alexandros]

Post 8
Surface of Vjun

"Well that was step one" Alexandros said as he reached down and snapped the guard's neck so he wouldn't scream once the shock wore off. "When they were bringing me down here I saw where they put our gear."

Alexandros grabbed the key off the guard's belt followed by it's weapons, passing the rifle over to [member="Shorarri"] and keeping the pistol and vibroblade for himself.

He pushed out his arm between the archaic bars and began to fiddle with the key and lock, "If we can get to the lock up two floors above us it's a guarantee that we can flip this on them, I'll make them regret the day they captured Alexandros, Son of Philippos, Stratigos of Spathi."

He opened the door, "Why escape and come back with an army when we already have one here?"

 

[Shorarri]

Shorarri was confused the man used many titles and spoke of an army in the midst of the enemy. The man was either crazy or suicidal, but whatever the case he seemed Shorarri's best bet. [I will follow you human] Shorarri said as he let the arm fall from his grasp. Shorarri took the guards riffle. Some sort of vong biot cannon and fiddled with it for a bit. He accidently fired it when he brushed a bulbous orb on its side and a spray of plasma was fired. A plasmathrower Shorarri thought as the spray melted the bars. He steped through the opening and followed [member="Alexandros"] up the stairs. [I am Shorarri] he growled simply. He had no titles and contemplated making some up [Shorarri, slayer of vong, eater of ten pounds of fish, and bane of all baked bread] it sounded nice in Shyriiwook.

 

[Tyberius Fel]

Vorian watched the boy impart reinvigorating energy on the soldiers engaged below in tenacious fighting. There was no doubt, about it now. To reach out with raw force, to stroke the smoldering embers of fighting spirit into a raging flame that cindered all who stood in the way of righteous destiny. Battle meditation was a thing of terrible awe to behold. Despite the youth's tender age, his power was potent and his presence carried a natural intensity. If he honed his power adequately, it wouldn't be long until he could take a conscripted regiment of rabble and enflame their passions enough that they'd fanatically sprint headlong into a hornet's nest of blaster fillade, gleefully howling his name all the way to their deaths.

His name.

With a new demeanor, Vorian met the youth's gaze. "Who are you?"

[member="Cedric Grayson"]

 

[Alexandros]

Alexandros open the cell next to his and the wookie's and gave the key to the former occupants "Open every cell, let everyone out, we shall head to the lock up to retrieve our arms and armour."

This place was old, it appeared only the outside defences were modernised, that would be a great advantage for them, the lack of internal blast doors meant that they could be as loud as possible with out having to worry about getting trapped, especially with how unsubtle his companion was. Reaching the next floor Alexandros say that the cages were even more full and even recognised some of them as soldiers he had passed back at the base, fortunately there was only two guards on this floor.

"Hey, on the count of three you shoot the one on the left." Alexandros readied his pistol. "Three. . . Two. . ."

@Shorarri

 

[Placeholder 0128]

The question had gone unanswered.

Curiosity ruled the young man's mind as he appraised the being of white. He had trouble reading the feelings of others without linking with their minds - a fatal flaw if there ever was one. Left confused and grasping for an answer, Cedric turned his attentions back to the conflict.

The Dominion's warriors pushed their opponents further up the valley. In a different life, Cedric might have stood at the head of them, but that was not who he was. The child of Grayson was not his father; he was a careful, calculating creature.

"Cedric Grayson," he answered after a few achingly long moments of silence. The words were a simple statement, but the youth's tone implied a question. Why had the white one countered his question in favor of another?

"I have titles, but I doubt they're of any relevance here." He added quietly. "Who are you, lost Jedi?"

[member="Vorian Adasca"]

 

[Shorarri]

Shorarri began to free the other prisoners and when this was accomploshed he followed @Alexandros. They spotted two guards awaiting and Shorarri nodded. The man counted and Shorarri fired. The human began to melt into a puddle of plasma and the smell of burned flesh took up the air. Shorarri smiled as they walked past the goup that had once been the man. They freed the rest of the prisoners and began to make their way to the armory. While the gun Shorarri had was good, he missed his bowcaster and machete.

 

[Tyberius Fel]

Lost Jedi.

Lost Jedi.

Lost Jedi.

That ruinous phrase ricocheted deafeningly through his skull, igniting the powder keg bubbling hatred that simmered underneath the restraining surface of Jedi philosophy. "Is it that obvious?" Demanded Vorian with abrupt ferocity. "Do I wear it about my shoulders like a shroud? Is it branded on my forehead?" Veins pulsated at the Counslar's forehead with the tremendous intensity of his words. "I watch, forever the powerless observer, as the Galaxy is beset on all sides by a horde of hungry jackals proclaiming themselves the next great liberator, the august unifier of a turbulent land. But nothing ever changes." He spat venomously. "Another hemorrhaging ulcer on the heel of the Galaxy to bleed into it's war coffers. And while the great peacekeepers of the Jedi Order sit and do nothing. Nothing. And I stand here on this barren rock collecting these thrice-damned-..." With impotent rage, Vorian flung the botany bag over his shoulder onto the war torn valley below. It landed in a maroon sapphire of split ichor. "Flowers."

The Arkanian's chest heaved with passion, then as soon as it arrived, the tempest subsided. "So, yes." He laughed deliriously. "I am Vorian Adasca, and I am a Lost Jedi."

 

[Placeholder 0128]

A single hand was held out to the white one.

"You've been found." The words were spoken simply, though they carried a quiet compassion that had become rarity for the youth. Gray eyes centered upon the Arkanian, a certain acceptance in them that extended to the smile he wore beneath the crimson cowl.

"I do not know your pain, Vorian Adasca," that hand turned to gesture toward the battle beyond. "But I know theirs. They've suffered just as you have. Many lost their homes, families, children to the war. My parents perished for its sake." For but a moment, the boy's composure slipped. The thin facade that he had come to know as the Archlord wavered, replaced by the visage of a lonely young man thrust into a position he had never wished for himself.

That reality swiftly vanished before an expression of surety.

"We have other Jedi that think the same way you do on Eol Sha. They're trying to save the order from itself, and the Dominion is working to reforge the fallen republic." The words fell from Cedric's lips with a quiet tinge of pride. "It might do you some good to speak to them, Vorian Adasca."

He turned back to the battlefield. Things were beginning to calm now, and the torrent of rain had slowed to a quiet trickle. Night would fall soon.

"They share your pain. It's better to shoulder it with others than to take it all onto yourself."

[member="Vorian Adasca"]

 

[Tyberius Fel]

Grayson, he said. Vorian felt Cedric's calming aura brush against him, suffocating the furious fire within the troubled Jedi. If only for a little while, at least. The youth words struck underneath his armor, but instead of skewering through him they soothed his inner turmoil. There was only one other man capable of such a thing, and this.. Cedric Grayson wore his face, carried his name and commanded his legion. Vorian held his tongue, for now, and let the question go to rest along with the rest of the fallen in the beset valley below.

The Jedi Knight tilted his head in a single neutral nod.

"Lead me to this new Order, and perhaps we can not only alleviate my sorrows but the agony of the galaxy."