Dominion Vinum Sabbathi | The Scourging of Dathomir | NIO

[Konrad Harrsk]

BLACK SABBATH
THE GREAT CONSPIRACY vol. I
Issue #3 w/ @Auria Blackmoore

cOmE oN, sUnShInE, he inaudibly mouthed her call and reluctantly followed her lead into the dead woods of the stronghold's western walls.

He chopped at the sharp, poking branches of the trees that stretched like broken, withered nails of a corpse from the gloomy mist veiling the tree crowns. It looked like a perfect spot to hang these wretched Nightsisters. Konrad would gladly tie the noose around their necks and leave pulling the fatal lever to the witch that trod forward. Switching the HUD overlay of his mask to infrared, the warm silhouette crouched in a treetop forced his hand to draw and hurl a throwing dagger from his belt. It cut strands of hair as the archer tumbled from the tree, wildly rattled by Auria's sorcery.

A nasty, pompous smirk crossed his face as he saw Blackmoore's hand raise and flames dance across her fingers, expecting her to burn this face painted freak to cinder. The barbecue never happened. Trained to notice and read body language at great detail, Konrad's smirk faded into a scowl as he spotted the slight slump of Auria's shoulders and near-invisible shudder of her body. She hesitated.

He did not.

The next thrown dagger dug deep into the archer's throat. The witch writhed, choked and her hand clawed at the bow but life departed her form before she could touch it.

Konrad stomped to her side, yanked her by the arm, and stared down through the mask's all-white eyes, "What? Are you going soft now?!"

 

[Wresto]

Objective: 1 Black Sabbath

---

​

Getting into a defensive stance Roi needed to make sure not to overextend himself. He was worried about the kind of pesky tricks these witches could manage to pull off. Currently Roi and the Nightsister were circling each other. Roi held his fists up closely as she held his sword closely as well. He needed to end this encounter quickly and get back to providing long range support with his targeting blaster. His paycheck depended on it.

It was during his time thinking that in which the witch began her assault on him. Swinging her blade violently. Roi did his best to dodge her maneuvers however she was considerably acrobatic. Every dodge left required a dodge to the right and vice versa, his cybernetic muscles trying to keep up with her attacks. He eventually managed to ‘Block’ and attack her with his forearm. Her blade managed to scrape off some of his metal plating. Then he tried to hit her hard with his other augmented fist. Utilizing it’s repulsor technology to really end her with a good strike.

Yet he was too slow for her and she kicked him in his ‘gut’ knocking him onto his back on the ground. She then followed up with trying to go for the kill before Roi grabbed a rock and tossed it hard into her face. Knocking her onto her back as well. Once more Roi did a kick up back onto his feet before rushing. Practically putting his cybernetics on overdrive for the opportunity. Crouching over her he socked her right in the face and hard with his repulsor fist. Knocking her out and possibly even killing her in a single punch from the sheer force of a strong metal fist hitting her so hard.

Stepping back he took a second to breath after the exertion. Even with his cybernetics he had stamina, even if it was enhanced exertion like that took something out of him. Grabbing the Nightsister by the leg, she easily tossed her aside and off the cliff he was positioned on and had her tumble into the ground below. If his punch didn’t end her that probably did. Taking a deep breath through his internal respirators got back down to his sniper rifle and zeroed back in on the action.

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Deadly is the Unknown​

To understand a thing one must first steep themselves deep into the mold. So many have never dared contemplate what might exist outside their corner snippet of the galaxy. The land itself a trap, aided by all its wild beasts. So many wards had long been laid that easily sent warning. Do these invaders believe themselves invisible to Diviners!

The Nigthsister's Magick by design does not resin, nor spring out of her books, nor is trapped inside all her volatile Potions, her beasts, nor her amulets, rites and history. Her power lies in historically ancient and also ever evolving unconventional methods of molding the Force. The Force which, since PomStychTivé's day has evolved away from worshipping a limited family of godds, infusing items with Spirit Ichor, to recognizing the Force's part in the Magick.

The Nightsisters are habitual frequenters of slipping into and out of walking the Netherworld. Surely none of such notable capability would stand idle while the local quadrant Imperialtologists cult acquires Dathomir wildlands at a steal for their new location.

No Nightsister practiced under such capability would be murdered by anyone, only the defenseless Dathomiri natives who for their own suspicious nature refused to heed warning. But those here today who have not steeped their essence into such an ancient culture would be incapable of identifying the difference.

The Nightsisters stepped discretely into the Netherworld. Her Covens tucked safely away with all her livelihood, her assets all stashed under a vail of mystery long presented here. She shall continue her studies and evolving her Magick, till the Fates direct her path into action.

The Witch's presence is networked across the galaxy through her ability to utilize the other realm of the Nether. The witches would be found practicing across the galaxy in recent decades before this day. They dwell among the Sith as Nightsisters, the Jedi as White Witches, and in balance upon the CIS worlds as led by Vytal Noctura . Enterprises have been created by the Nightbrothers, such as run by Darth Metus.

Dathomir shall never be rid of her spirit, ages of bending the Darkside to meet her Will. Dathomir itself unleashed a wild beast physically visible in existence in the physical realm, and recently evolved within the Netherworld. Only the empty physical shell is walked today by not the witch.



The Warlocks Gate has completed its purpose, after extensive studies by The Sith Empire. In the recent days prior, it was activated far beyond its typical use, and taxed beyond further regeneration. As the last soul passed over its threshold from Dathomir soil into its netherworld transformation, the physical Gate would diminish to nothing more than a pile of clay for its predecessors.​

 

[Omari Cardon]

OBJ 1
Aemilio Valaar

The second deployment was always the humbling one.

The sky looked crimson red through the glasteel windows of the troop transport. The environment wasn't one of which he was too familiar, but it was good to step out of the comfort zone and see new things. However, this would be a huge leap instead of a small step.

Cardon repeated the briefing details in his head like a broken holo-tape recording. Over and over again with one particular detail in mind. Force-wielding. Through his training with the Black Hands, he knew how to counter them, disarm them, free them from their crutches and take them down. But he had never truly encountered a force-user outside of the Imperial Knights that he passed by and spoke to briefly on Bastion. He wondered how the battle would go. He wondered how he would fare in a battle between an enemy force-user and himself. He wondered-

"Get ready to drop in 10!" The countdown was visible in their HUDs. At his flank, Aemilio saw Omari and offered a singular nod.

Omari snapped out of his trance. The flashing red light of the prepare-to-drop signal obscured his eyesight slightly. Through it though, he managed to check over his gear and get ready. He stood right next to the LT, returning the nod that he gave him.

"Shoot to kill," he reminded before the crimson light turned green.

"Always," the Sergeant replied readily. Several seconds later and the light turned a fluorescent green, signaling the Black Hands to jump into the Dathomirian hellscape. Slowly, he crept up to the ramp, and without hesitation, he jumped. Feeling the cool air on his face brought a bit of relief. The calm before the storm. As soon as he touched down conflict was beginning to stir. The Nightsister warriors came as equipped as they thought they would, but appeared with a bit more numbers. The Black Hands stood outnumbered but vigilant.

"Let's GO!" yelled the Sergeant.

 

[Michael Barran]

POST #3
OBJECTIVE 3: BYOO
DRUIDIC_LAIRD
TAGS: Khaostra Devoid

MICHAEL'S LOADOUT
PRIMARY WEAPON: FRAGARACH DISRUPTOR-PISTOL
SECONDARY WEAPON: PALE-BLUE LIGHTSABRE
SECONDARY BLADE: VIBROSWORD CAVALRY-SABRE

PROVING GROUND: BACK TO BASICS - MICHAEL'S WALK THROUGH DATHOMIR (PART 3)

If you can hear me, I am the Raven of Dhuosnos - but you can call me,*"Sàmhchair!".​

**"Silence!"

Michael had initially assumed Randall and himself to be alone after the Goidelic death-god's departure, but when a new voice began resonating within his mind, one that Barran had never heard before in his life, the Wanderer realised the extent of his actions; if Donn's hunger for souls remained by the time he was done with Dathomir, Sàmhchair would drag the young Lord to the Otherworld where his soul would remain forever, either as food for Donn or fodder for Cernunnos. Yet still, neither death-god nor celestial messenger could account for the sheer volume of souls that would be counted when all was said and done on Dathomir, not knowing how numerous the Galaxy's peoples had become in their slumbering, silent absence, not knowing how many could die in a single day's worth of fighting in the Second Great Hyperspace War either - not knowing that Lord Michael would easily hold to his word in sating Donn's world-shaking hunger.
Aye, but yer no silent wae me though, eh? An' by the way, Ah'm Michael of Clan Barran. Remember the name.

Just like the last Barran Cairnsman, some moof on ye! Known, but don't he just know it, eh?​

Both the Woad and the Highlander would burst into laughter, though for entirely different reasons, and with entirely different catalysts that brought out such outbursts of mirth; McBain, for surviving an encounter with a Druidic death-god in general, and Barran, for Sàmhchair's almost-archetypally Goidelic retort. Lord Michael would find himself feeling relieved as the reminder of the sheer weight of dead souls on Dathomir put the ritual, and the consequent promise made to Donn, into calming perspective, along with the rather relaxed behaviours of the celestial raven in his mind putting his mind at perfect ease. Despite the small mistake with the Kyber, the disdain wouldn't be enough to put Donn off his pursuit of souls to count and feast on, and despite the mistake of mouthing off at the death-god's messenger, the irritation wouldn't be enough to make the talking bird in his mind dislike Lord Michael for it.
Mouthy wee kark I am, but the best you'll ever meet. Regardless, it's an honour to meet you.

'Safe t'say you'll no be involvin' Kyber wae anything Druidic in the future, eh?'

'Aye! Yer no jokin', Randall. Donn's a fething unit, mate. Holy chit!', Lord Michael responded once the laughter died down, equally as surprised by how powerful Donn was, even after sleeping undisturbed for many centuries. Gladdened even further that the disdain for the Kyber only extended as far as personal views, revealing general fearlessness towards the presence of the Wanderer's lightsabre as a result of Barran's minor lapse in good-judgement, Lord Michael couldn't help but wonder if perhaps a reward awaited his intention to continue these acts of good faith; he was certain not to fail, not on Dathomir, making it impossible for the Wanderer to chase such thoughts from his mind, but this would also gain the attention of the mind-dwelling messenger in the process. The urge to discuss it would hang in the open for both Lord Michael and Sàmhchair to discuss it, like a pyre left unlit, like an itch left unscratched; but a figure in the distance was spotted by the Highlander, putting such discussion in Michael's mind on hold for a while as the figure continued their approach.

But Michael already knew who it was, as he had seen that specific feminine swagger before, and had seen such approaching from a distance on Lao-Mon, leading Barran to no other conclusion but the correct intuition that is was none other than the Mawsworn Dathomiri, Devoid.

The cave to your left, Devoid. Let us catch up on old times, shall we?​

 

[Auria Blackmoore]

TAG: Konrad Harrsk | Open

O~~>PANDORA<~~O​

Shock had Auria retracting her arm slightly as the throwing dagger embedded into the Nightsister's throat.

She was still looking at the corpse when Konrad grabbed her arm.

"What? Are you going soft now?!"

Fear struck at the rogue momentarily. But to Konrad's credit, his brute manner snapped her out of it quite quickly. She tried yanking her arm back from his iron grip.
"This teddy bear can still burn your ass. Don't forget that." she said, getting in his face. "It just felt wrong for a second. I don't expect someone like you to understand, but killing one's own people is a point of no return. It's different from cutting down some random Sith. It's not easy. But it won't happen again." She stepped back. "Now if you're done being a caveman, can we go?"

Without further ceremony, she marched onward into the gloom.

Konrad's manhandling of her had caused something to click into place at least. The Nightsisters have always been a sect and in this moment in time, it was kill or be killed for the Empire. For quite a long while, it had only been a matter of time before the hammerstroke had fallen on the chaotic world. And here they were. Auria desired balance and order in the Galaxy and the New Imperials provided her with the means to achieve that. Those that stood in the way of the balance, were no friends or family of hers.

The thundering crash of trees breaking apart, pulled her out of her musings rather violently.
"Oh yay." she said sarcastically as a rumbling growl sounded before a rancor came charging through the trees, the ground shaking in protest.
Auria had just enough time to fire off a fire ball before having to dive out of the way as the reptomammal just barreled forwards.

Not that the small fire ball did much.

Scrambling to her feet, she let loose an inferno at its back with both hands. With a roar, the armoured beast spun around and started to move back towards her. Further ahead, another roar sounded.
"Great! It brought company!" she sneered as she kept up the inferno while backtracking to stay ahead of the one coming at her.

Rancors sucked. Big time.

They made cockroaches look bad.

 

[Knight]

Objective 1

Spoiler

NEW IMPERIAL ARMY

45th Penal Legion​

Captain Nile Hark​

Unidentified Armored Unit​

Corporal Knight​

Special Operations Command​

Novania 1st Company "Imperial Corsairs"​

Captain Raus Garrat​

1st Storm Commandos​

Vandal Squad​

Commander Kolson Vrask​

Stormtroopers Corps​

NISA 6th Training Group​

Trooper Mav Ryburn​

501st Stormtrooper Legion​

3rd Company​

Trooper Aridius 'TK-1575'​

5th Company​

Lieutenant Aemilio Valaar​

---

Knight silently listened to Mav Ryburn 's report as he was instructed to give it by Captain Urod. The pilot, in his experience with in the New Imperial Army, had met numerous Stormtrooper units though he had never been in the company of a training unit. It was a fresh look into how the sword of the NIO was forged "Understood. Thank you." Knight responded shortly when the trooper had concluded his assignment statement. It was then that the systems within the Kezia had alerted him to enemy movements nearby, though the Captain was struck down before Knight could react "At them! They will know to fear the Order! Keep behind me, steel yourselves, and we will not fail." Knight had fought the true Sith from the battle scarred metropolises of Muunilist to the forests of Troska, he would not be pushed back by jumped up backwater primitives. He could only hope that the NISA 6th Training Group would follow suite and preformed to the best of their ability, trainees or not.

The short war machine took a long series of steps forward as the blaster cannon turret returned fire to into the bleak bog. Green explosions and the sound of combusting gases and vaporizing water hissed loudly in the skirmish. The chin mounted E-web resumed suppressive fire on the area at large while Knight continued to press forward. The deflector shields sparking as continued blaster fire and other projectiles collided with them though they did not shatter. The trudging march made great waves at the knee deep water and if any followed in his wake they could feel the ground shift below them from the stirred mud. Lights shown out in brilliant rays to light the walker's way even though it did not need them to 'see' the enemy, it was a statement as was the challenge of the blaring of a war horn through the external speakers of the walker which echoed into the fog.

 

[Kolson Vrask]

G R U N G E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
IMPERIAL MILITARY ASSISTANCE GROUP
SPECIAL OPERATIONS COMMAND | 1st GROUP | 'VANDAL' SQUAD
OPERATION BLACK SABBATH
Aridius 'TK-1575'

SOMETHING IN THE WAY
DATHOMIR
​

Every foot gained was a roll of the dice that a spear or mace wouldn't clash against his skull or a blaster bolt wouldn't slam into his chest. Odds he'd been long used to playing since he graduated from Special Forces training. There was almost no component of his being that was ever 'worried' about battle. Old Sith Imperial fortifications long abandoned by their negligent remnants now came under the use of the Nightsisters and Nightbrothers who offered the last bastion of resistance in favor of the dark side on this world, beyond the horrors of this demented planet itself.

A Night Sister caught Vrask in ambush, a spear coiled in electric fel green thrust toward his abdomen. He was able to catch it head on, the heavy jagged tip slamming against his ebon armor before he knocked the haft of the spear away with his knee and slammed the barrel of his rifle against her forehead, accompanying the strike with another three round burst into her face. In contrary to the suits of ebon and crimson donned by the Sith Imperials or the savagery of Sithspawn and The Maw, he could see these wounds clear as day, the immediate grievous tibanna burn that marred an all too human-like face. He’d seen images like this before, in the faces of the slain women, children and insurgents as an afterwind of the Sith glassing of New Adasta, Ziost.

Oh well, he thought. Were his fate in her hands, he’d have a dagger twisting into his abdomen about now.

He turned a corner to see Aridius looking down the sights toward a wounded Night Sister. Clearly a neophyte of the bunch, younger, and from her wounds? Hardly a threat. But their rules of engagement were clear. Kill all within operations area. He was hesitating, he saw something in her eyes, saw a person, a pearl of sympathy forcing stasis in his trigger finger. He looked into her eyes and under the buckling pressure, couldn't execute full.

<"Sister- sister!"> He said in a loud yet hushed tone. The call demanded the Night Sister's attention, her gaze flicking toward the Storm Commando who immediately responded with a shot from his pistol into her brain pan, killing her immediately.

The muzzle of his blaster pistol was still smoking when he slid it back into his holster once more, looking the way of Aridius.

<"You hesitated, next time you hesitate, could get you or one of the others killed, you understand? None of this is easy and trust me, this won't be the last time you see her face...but think for a second if the tables were turned or if you saw it as I did, you'd fire the shot every time. Now c'mon, let's keep it moving."> Kolson said, taking up the battle rifle into his hands once more.

 

[Amaya Vollmond]

OBJECTIVE II: Inquisition
THEME: Dirty Women

Waymar Geyer

Sharp Fangs and Shimmering Scales

The Witch's alluring glare remained firm and unflinching as his questions became commands. He was solidifying his authority by reigning her in, she knew this tactic. It was one she had often employed herself, though only when speaking to her lessers.

"Balance is generated by the understanding of two concepts without favoring one more than the other. Sith are wholly dedicated to the dark side. They are selfish, greedy, and see no use for the other side. Jedi are no different, zealous in their own belief in their code. I do not favor those who submit themselves to either extreme. Though, perhaps that belief is mine alone." She let out a long sigh, listening to his next words.

"If I knew of other Sith Sympathizers within my Coven, I would have pruned them from existence myself. Only the best among us are granted the lessons of the First Teacher. If one would turn their back on our ancient ways, then they are undeserving of the gifts they possess. You will find many will think the same way as I. If they quake in fear, or reduce themselves to pleading, they are unworthy." She responded with little display of emotion. This was the way of things, weakness was not permissible within their ranks.


Another wanton smirk tugged at her features with his last words, studying his face in depth as his helm was removed. "As I predicted, you are strong. Your face betrays many stories, Knight. Perhaps after this...interrogation, you might share them?" The woman remained at ease, Her tone held steady even with his antagonistic and barely veiled threat. Under any other circumstance, she would have found his visage appealing, perhaps even worthy of her selection for servitude. However, this was life or death, and though she made light of it that fact stayed ever present.

"As for weeding out the weak, others of my code will remain as calm as I have. If they show any signs of desperation or anxiety, suspicion should arise. A true woman of my clan would show no fear, especially before an inferior male." Her words were haphazard but clear in their meaning. This was the most she could grant him, as far as his search was concerned, and the sincerity in her tone could not be fabricated.

​

​

 

[Aridius 'TK-1575']

ARIDIUS, TK-5324 'Crimson'

D A T H O M I R
OPERATION BLACK SABBATH

ALLIES: Kolson Vrask and all those of NIO.
ENEMY: NIGHTSISTERS, NIGHTBROTHERS, DARKSIDERS, MAW

[ My posts are free for anyone to hop in. ]

PART 4

Aridius felt the Nightsister through the force; some connection never before reached digging inside of his soul. The briefest moment of hesitation this caused, the Blaster-Pistol briefly shaking as Aridius struggled to do what was necessary. Then, he heard Kolson speak, "Sister-Sister!" Followed by her corpse crumbling to the ground. Whatever brief phase of emotion and grief was immediately shut out, either from shock or from an innate understanding. In this moment, the boy died and the man was born. "Copy." He simply replied, grabbing onto the Blaster-Cannon with both hands with a nod of understanding. How could Aridius allow such emotion to bypass the hours upon hours of training? Every simulation, you follow orders to the exact and execute it with unrelenting Imperial efficiency.

Within the region of Dathomir, several support elements allocated for the 501st began to be deployed. Not AT-STs or smaller TIE fighter assets but AT-ATx Imperial Walkers. As Aridius returned back to the main center of battle, so were the dropships as they deployed the towering war machines. Within the red-mist, they appeared as if massive beasts; towering like Demonic Gods over the Stormtroopers as they fired with superior firepower into the darkness. Some of the Nightsisters, left behind by their Officers and with respect to their ferocity, attempted to focus fire on the landing hulks as they began to allocate power to their forward guns and target positions of fire.

Aridius, joining the rest of the Stormtrooper company, watched as the now fully deployed AT-ATxs fired off several cannon-bursts into the darkness of the Dathomirian Forrest; the impacts rumbling the soil and rockcrete. "FORWARD, KEEP PUSHING UP! WE WIPE THIS PLACE CLEAN!" His Sergeant would shout outward, not caring about Aridius and Kolson's lonesome encounter. He kept up the pace with Kolson and the other Commandos; a few other Stormtroopers joined them, knowing who to follow. As they continued onward, a burst of Green-Lighting would rip across the front of Aridius; striking two of his fellow Stormtroopers before him. They screamed, their helmets attempting to filter out their horrified and pained end as they were almost obliterated into pieces. He quickly turned to where the Green-Lighting came from if that was a good way to describe it; viewing a more Elderly Nightsister- he knew not what their ranking was, their culture nor their beliefs but good soldiers follow orders.

He turned the Blaster-Cannon, his backpack humming to life as he fired off a burst. It struck the Nightsister in the face, blowing it away in a burst of crimson mist- the next bolts striking the upper body and rendering there no corpse at all except bits. She was accompanied by few of her Sisters and lower Brothers, who charged to Aridius personally to avenge their 'higher', all the Officers left. Aridius would fire off another burst, ripping one in half and sending another in a spiral unto the ground- crying out in pain as its arm was eviscerated. But that left one more mace-wielding mutant; a Zadrak or however one says their foul name. Aridius would swing his Blaster-Cannon from left to right, catching the Mace and parrying it off to the side; before sending his Blaster in a muzzle-thump, thrusting the searing hot Blaster straight into its face. It screamed in pain, quickly moving back in recovery. Aridius learned this from Kolson; quickly pulling out his Holdout Blaster and pulling the trigger immediately. It was a sidearm, so within the second he pulled the trigger once after the other. One-shot to the forehead, another to the chin, another to the chest.

He felt nothing as Aridius stood in triumph over the dead bodies of the Nightsisters and Brothers that killed his comrades. He would hoist the Blaster-Cannon back up to his primary; this beast of a weapon, but it was bulky and was supposed to be a support weapon more than an assaulting one. The neater toys weren't for the standard grunt.

Kolson Vrask and others who would like to join.
The advance carried on for several more hours until they reached another minor Nightsister Hub; a cluster of huts and structures that housed both livelihoods and their witchcraft. The Garrison line was broken in this sector, now smaller pockets that attempted to stand up to Imperial Blasters and Walkers. Aridius arrived with his fellow Stormtroopers, his Sergeant looking to him and a few others; "House to House, drop them all.". He nodded, and moved up to the first House. It was easy, for Aridius grabbed a thermal grenade from his pouch and threw it in. Whatever that was inside was eviscerated, and then a fellow Stormtrooper with a Flamethrower torched it.

The next few Houses were a blur- they didn't even bother to clear the Houses, the Stormtroopers just torched them or blew them up instead. Overhead, as they were further out from the main engagements, there were a few occasional TIE fighter squadrons or Bombers that dropped their payloads then returned to re-arm. Sometimes, beyond the red-mists of Dathomir, Aridius could even see the massive Star-Destroyers that asserted Imperial dominance over the Planet. Seeing the endless barrages of turbo-lasers and ION cannons that rained down in orbital bombardment; how much chaos they're probably causing. It was a beautiful sight really. NIO /is/ conflict, war made manifest- war, that followed with Order and security. This is how it is forged in a galaxy made of conflict, this is the sacrifice. It are the blasters of Imperial Stormtroopers and Imperial Walkers that bring order to a Galaxy on fire.

This Nightsister Hub was more like a city- most of the Houses were empty, others werent. When Flame Troopers or his Grenades were thrown in, he heard screams sometimes but they were silent after a while. He shut them out, they were foul and that was that. It wasn't until he reached a final House did Aridius run out of Grenades, and the Flame Troopers were occupied with other Houses did he load up his Blaster-Cannon again. It sizzled to life, beaming as Aridius let off a burst into its doorway from a range about ten-meters. He let off burst after burst, annihilating anything inside in an endless stream of laser bolts. Suddenly, several wounded Nightsters came tumbling out; some were screaming, crying for mercy. { That's not what Nightsisters do. } Aridius thought to himself. They must've been initiates, not fully born to the cause. It reminded him back to the first situation with Kolson and the other Nightsister; they had orders, it wasn't personal.

The huddle of Nightsisters thought that they would have earned salvation through begging for survival; attempting to crawl to Aridius and grab hold of his legs- begging for him to let them go or treat their wounded or dead Sisters. All they saw was the emotionless helmet of the Stormtrooper, his expression meaningless and his emotions shut-off. This was extermination, pest control and nothing more. A severe change from the story before, for that boy died only a few hours ago. Aridius, in response to this supplication, pulled out his Holdout Blaster and shot them all dead. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. The sounds of the Blaster rang out. They didn't even defend themselves, they just kept on begging, begging as the laser went through them or made their heads into Us.

Aridius, to make sure that the Nightsisters inside were dead, would pull up his Blaster-Cannon; moving into the hut. It was a pile of bodies, a few of them still alive. He double-tapped each one, switching to a single fire setting and firing in each form. It was brutal, it was mind-numbing and it was traumatizing but it wasn't anything that war wasn't already.

Kolson was right; for every time Aridius pulled that trigger, he thought of that first Nightsister's face. How something inside him was never thought of before; a connection almost. Was it the Force? Aridius read that the Force could do that, communicate and connect on a level beyond mental. It didn't matter, she was dead and now it's her face that was left singed into his mind. The irony was that these Nightsisters were abandoned still- the Officers were gone, the Garrison was all that was left behind to be sacrificed. All of this was just sacrificial lambs, targets to distract from the others that retreated. How ironic.

​

​

 

[Mav Ryburn]

DATHOMIR
OPERATION: BLACK SABBATH
FORWARD POST THESH: UNDER ATTACK
NISA 6th Training Group
Armor Support: Corporal Knight​

Mav ran to crouch at the wall of a bombed out hut, firing into the undergrowth as small arms fire flew from the brush. The captured village was under attack from two different directions, guerilla fighters shooting from near invisibility.

Mav's grip was shaky at first, but his hands became more and more relaxed with each shot. This was just shooting. Shooting he knew. His blaster bolts soared crimson over a Zabrak's mutant horns, then plugged him full in the chest. His first kill. A woman with a strange bow went for cover when his first shot at her missed, but his second caught her in the jaw before she made it away.

The Corporal's walker pushed forward, tanking small arms fire and thrown rocks as if they were nothing. His speakers hissed to life. <"They will know to fear the Order! Keep behind me, steel yourselves, and we will not fail."> His voice rallied the green troops, and his cannons sending bodies flying through the air rallied them more. What looked like the entire 3rd Squad came rushing out of ruined houses, rifles blazing. They were done hiding. Taking what cover they could, they followed the great machine into battle.

As the blast of a horn echoed from the Kerzia's speakers, Mav heard a familiar shriek. A green bolt of energy splashed harmlessly against the walker's deflector shield, and a chill went up Mav's spine. The sniper who'd killed Captain Urod.

He dialed in his helmet and watched quietly. A trooper at his arm continued blasting into the swamp at half-visible enemies. "Hey! Did you overheat?"

"Watch," Mav hushed, and then the shriek sounded again. A trooper from 3rd squad screamed and dropped his rifle. There! In a high tree near the end of the village clearing. Mav tapped the side of his helmet and yelled into comms. "2nd Squad, focus fire! The huge tree at point 9, the sniper's in the branches!"

At this, the rest of the 2nd Squad stood to sight the tree.... but they weren't alone. 1st Squad had heard him as well, and they had managed to offload one of their E-Webs. They must have been pissed, because a stream of red plasma annihilated that old rotting tree in seconds. Mav heard a definite scream as a body fell to splash into the marsh, not moving again.

The purr of another E-Web sounded from Mav's left, and then the roar of a flamethrower from his right. A couple boys from 2nd Squad had come from the shuttles with more heavy weapons, and as they swept the turf in a blaze of death, with the Kerzia's cannons booming again not far away, Mav realized something.

This wasn't even a challenge. Because the 6th Training Group? They were fething Stormtroopers.

"2nd squad, push up! Sight the flashes! They're on the run!"

 

[Khamul Kryze]

Tags: SCAR

The pungent smell of iron filled the air as flesh and bone were shattered, mixing with the already thick air of Dathomir. All around them, the corpses of those too weak to break away from the ideals of the false Sith lay strewn out, rotting away as Tor'r pulled his blaster from its holster. Death's Hand had been searching old Sith Space for some time now, seeking a prize long since forgotten within the annals of time. At least, forgotten to all but the faithful...

Khamul stood silently, watching his loyal follower beat the Sith Imperial dog, leaving him with nothing but a whimper with which to beg, not unlike his former masters. These would-be rulers of men were nothing more than weakened husks of a bygone era. They were weak, and Khamul had no time for weakness. At least, until it became apparent that they may have some very, very important information.

His eyes moved toward the sound of the dropships as the familiar cacophony of war slowly approached them.

"Indeed. We'll need to move fast. Have the rest of Death's Hand meet us at the rendezvous point. We will move on the last of these false Sith before the NIO can catch up to us. We can't allow anyone to discover our purpose here."

Khamul looked back to the bloodied Sith-Imperial, his eyes narrowing behind his beskar helmet.

"Put this wretch out of his misery."

There would be no excuse for weakness, and no reprieve for the fearful. The times were changing, and the unworthy had no place within the new order.

 

[Aemilio Valaar]

Obj 1 - Nightsister Stronghold
Direct: Omari Cardon
Proximity: Knight Aridius 'TK-1575' Kolson Vrask Roi Lutador Nile Hark

As soon as he rappelled down the rope, lasers lanced down from the cloudy sky. Their audible whines were impossible to miss, but by the time he had heard them, they were already impacting the ground. The unknown to him, Ghalric Rau , known only as Blitzhund, would find his taunting to fall upon deaf ears.

The usual friendly demeanour of the Bastion resident was nonexistent once that helmet was locked into place. He was Voidwalker, Lieutenant of the Five-Oh-First, Leader of the Black Hands, a grouping of troopers that under his command, were one of the few that had slaughtered their way through Bryn'adul coalition forces.

And made it home alive.

Adorning the plates of the veteran units was the obsidian hand, a representation of the blood of those beasts they had killed in 'defense' of their Silver 'allies.'

Dathomir was naught but a ground for bloodletting. The weak would be culled, Voidwalker thought, briefly turning his head to set his gaze on the Sergeant Cardon. For as much as he professed the lives of Imperials mattered, in truth, buried beneath the charismatic veneer, he did not give a feth about who died following him, or who he sent to their grave.

The only thing that mattered was climbing to the top. Getting to where he deserved to be.

"With me!" The cries of acknowledgement were deafening as energy bolts whipped through the air to find their targets.

The Lieutenant did not waste time in rushing forwards into the midst of the charging Nightbrothers, his rifle thrown around to the side as he withdrew his vibrosword, familiar hum active, and began hacking his way to the front door of the Stronghold.

"Echo-4, take my left flank!"

 

[Rurik Fel]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
SOVEREIGN IMPERATOR
BYOO | MATTERS OF STATE
Iron Skin | Lightsaber
Enlil

​

"And you would sacrifice the opportunity to find Ren or the Knight Kyrel." The Knight Commander offered in retort to the Imperators inaction in the Operation 'Black Sabbath'. Dathomir burned as the Iron Imperator sat in his metal chair, all but confined by the surgical and mechanical instruments that saw to repairing his cybernetic hand and curing the ailments that struck his tortured form once more.

"No doubt, as soon as word of the Empire reaching Dathomir finds them, as it always seems to at least one of them will be there and perhaps- in our clutches." The Knight carried on as Rurik seemed to all but ignore him, cold eyes running along the mechanical claw and soldering iron as it saw to meticulously repairing his damaged cybernetic hand and forearm.

"I am not so stubborn as to believe I can redeem a man long gone as he sees his home world burn, Knight Commander. As a matter of fact...I am not so stubborn as to believe I can redeem a man...at all." Rurik said, his voice though still warped with tortured distortion from his long standing ailment wrought unto him by The Demon, Kascalion Giedfield .

"Dathomir is a necessary sacrifice to the pyre. Darkness swells every passing day, Commander. Thus, before the sickness reaches the potential hosts...the hosts must be snuffed out where they can. Dathomir was a sick world, those willing to contribute to our Empire will be given the opportunity to do so...those in the shadows, those adherent to darkness...will die by the sword." Rurik states. The Knight Commander in his armor of argent and black cloak nodded along to his sentiment. Ultimately, he was still going used to change in dynamic with his immediate superior who was once exclusively a battlefield general and now- Imperator.

"As you wish..." He said, a female knight-errant entering the room to pass off a message to her Commander before he'd nod once and address the Imperator once more.

"Duty calls, your grace. And it seems the Grand Vizier has just finished his address." The Knight Commander offers.

"Summon him for me, if you would- Knight Commander."

"Of course." The Knight Commander said before leaving the room, eventually in his presence, the Grand Vizier. The Imperator was as candid as he could be while still donning his iron and argent, the usual face-like mask free from his tortured skin, baring his true visage in his personal quarters when Enlil arrived.

"Grand Vizier. It has been far over due that we speak again. It is good to see you in Ravelin proper once more, under better circumstances." Rurik remarks.

 

[Khaostra Devoid]

Post: 2
Objective: Come to God
Location: Dathomir Howling Crags, Cave Near Abandoned Howling Crags Village
Equipment: Red Midnight Duster | Red Sith Armor | Sith Mask | Grav Boots | CrushGaunts | x2 White lightsabers | Forearm Lanvorak | Wrist Laser | Variety of Explosives | RSKF-44 heavy blaster | X-21 shock glove
Tags: Michael Barran | Lord Letifer

​

Khaos teeth gritted as she heard the voice coming from a nearby cave in the crags. Her orange eyes lowly panned to the cave up headed and off to her left. She didn’t have time for this, she had to gather her clan and make to a few other remnant clans she thought might throw their hat in with Maw at least as far to see to it that all the traitors supported the Sith Empire were dead. For a split second though she wanted to see Michael burn she thought about just ignoring it and heading out to finish her mission. She almost completely turned away from the Cave but the stubbornness in her couldn’t let her walk away.


She found herself turning back around and heading for the Cave. Though the Iron Hearts were descending on the world of in mass, her true fight was not with them this day. In truth the coven that had sold out Dathomir to the Sith Empire were the enemy this day the Iron Bastards were a threat that would have to be forced from Dathomir another day. Still despite that she found herself pushing into the cave.


Her orange eyes glowed, as her helmet was off and lit the way into the cave. She found herself pushing down a small walk way that had cave drawing along the wall. Her eyes scanned them as she made her way to the one calling her. She read all the symbols and drawings understanding what this place was, a place sacred to her clan. The Cave was one that test ones will and strength and Magick flowed through the veins in this cave. It was a place powerfully enough to call forth spirits and entities from the darkest reaches of the unknown.

This was not the only cave of it’s kind either in the Crags many of them existed there was cave of sisters of the void the three sisters of Howling crags clan who survived being infected by the Blackwing virus by the Original Galactic empire when they choose to purge Dathomir. This world held so many secrets along with the all the scars and wounds from those that tried to claim her heart. Dathomir and its people had survived much, even several attempts at there own genocide.


She found herself entering an opening where Michael stood alongside one of his she assumed underling, but she did not recognize him from Lao-Mon. Khaostra didn’t move to draw her weapon though the hairs on the back of her neck were standing ever more on end. As she scanned the cavern, they stood in noting this was the main summoning chamber. She realized as she scanned, she noticed it had been in use not that long ago. Michael had summoned or talked to something here. Though no weapon was drawn she was very much on her guard as she looked at Michael.

“I’m not General Devoid today Just Khaostra Starfall of the Howling Crags, great granddaughter of Falling Star the Demon Witch Nova, granddaughter of the White Wolf Nexus Stafall, and Daughter of Crazy Wolf the Psycho Witch'ari Tegan Stafall. I’m the Lone Wolf. ” She probably had some more proper dathomir titles she was forgetting, yet on Dathomir she was a Starfall as this was a matriarchal society and your blood line descended from your mother’s mother and so on. The Last Name Devoid that she used was one from her grandfather’s blood line and one of many she used like Damazki, Bacquin, Jo’Karr, and even Ice on a few occasions. Khaos was a woman of many last names but all part of her lineage and heritage. As she spoke, she noticeable was holding back her anger and spite for the man the man that stood before her. “The Iron comes for Dathomir as many have in the past, this world knows war and oppression, it’s heart bleeds from all the wounds it has suffered. Yet I am not here for iron, not yet anyway.” Was all she said not delving into why exactly she was here even if she wanted to fight this man here and now, she knew she had more important things to attend to. “So, speak your peace, Michael. That is more than most Maleings are permitted in the face of a nightsister.” She was boiling over inside but she didn’t let it show instead she half talked down to him like and Dathomirir woman would do to a male who spoke out of turn or made demands not letting him know his mere presences was getting under her skin.

 

[Omari Cardon]

OBJ 1
Aemilio Valaar
CLOSE VICINITY: Kolson Vrask \ Aridius 'TK-1575' \ Nile Hark \ Knight \ Roi Lutador

ECHO-4
​

Rocks and dirt blew straight into his face as he took cover. His helmet shielded his eyes from the cloud of red dust that spread in his immediate vicinity but it obscured his vision slightly. He raised his rifle over the rock he was situated upon and fired back three shots, one fatally striking a Nightsister. As the body fell the sergeant fell back down to a crouch position behind cover. A trooper to the right of him yelled at him to brace, but for what was still in question. Nevertheless, he hit the deck and held onto his helmet.

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT!​

The sky erupted a hail of lasers that fell upon the attackers in front of them. The impact shook the ground and made Cardon tighten up a little more to protect himself. He waited just a few seconds longer after the sound had stopped and the explosions had cleared to finally resume his crouching position. He dusted the red earth that caked within the plates of his armor and shuffled to get the comfortable feeling back. Grabbing his weapon and dusting it off as well, he began his slow peaks over the cover.

"With me!"

Omari heard the Lieutenant give the order to stand by him at his position. He was only a couple of meters away, however, the area between the two had no other options for cover. He would have to rush. Looking at the two other Black Hand members that accompanied him, he gave them a nod to signal that he was going to run and that they needed to cover him. They received the message and nodded back to confirm. The Sergeant gripped his rifle hard, stared straight at the next cover post, and broke out into a sprint towards the LT. Flashes of red and fluorescent pink whizzed by as he ran, only to slide into the next area of cover. The LT helped him up from off of the ground, and he gave a solid nod. He then hopped straight over the cover as did the other Black Hands, so the Cardon followed as well.

"Echo-4, take my left flank!"

"Understood, Sir!" Cardon replied as he raised his rifle barrel at a Nightsister attacker, who met her unfortunate end seconds afterward. He moved swiftly towards the Stronghold entrance, keeping alert of his surroundings. Another small fireteam of Black Hands who were known as the designated breachers readied their weapons before barging in. Everyone else gave the ready signal, and the fireteam executed their job perfectly. The first part had been completed, but it would get a lot harder from here.

 

[Michael Barran]

POST #4
OBJECTIVE 3: BYOO
DRUIDIC_LAIRD
TAGS: Khaostra Devoid

MICHAEL'S LOADOUT
PRIMARY WEAPON: FRAGARACH DISRUPTOR-PISTOL
SECONDARY WEAPON: PALE-BLUE LIGHTSABRE
SECONDARY BLADE: VIBROSWORD CAVALRY-SABRE

PROVING GROUND: BACK TO BASICS - MICHAEL'S WALK THROUGH DATHOMIR (PART 4)

​

'AH, SO SHE DOES HAVE A FIRST NAME!!!! AND A TRACEABLE ANCESTRY NOW AS WELL!!!! THE WONDERS THAT BE, EH?'

Calling out from within the cave so there could be no mistaking as to which presence she could feel, and no mistaking as to who's voice was reverberating from within Khaostra's mind, the Mawsworn's presence would be drawn with more haste to the Imperial's sheltering cave entrance, soon lit with activity as Lord Michael set the previous ritual flames into a greater, campfire blaze. As Devoid made her entrance, all three faces would be visible enough to each other, though the Highlander would make his exit to the dropship with eyes narrowed disdainfully towards the Dathomiri as they wordlessly passed each other by, a tension between the Maw and Galidraan that wouldn't subside for as long as both sides continued to hone their talents in battle against each other. Standing up from the fire, Lord Michael then turned to see the face of his rival, with eyes glowing brighter than any flame the Woad had been tending to that day, a glow of which that did little to hide her true power.

'Well, on the matter of withheld hostilities, I must say I am grateful. As I have something of an idea in my mind, ever since I've been trying to get Lao-Mon the kark out of it! Clear t'me that none o' that cursed deployment worked out well for either of us - so rest assured in the knowledge that I most certainly will be speaking my mind on the matter, Khaostra.... An' now we can't even boast our home-worlds' recent scars over each other's any more, can we? All our peoples have ever known, in the lengthy, mysterious histories of the Dathomiri an' the Goidels; its only ever been war in all it's many forms, and it only ever will be war in all it's many forms.'

Eight days of fighting between two contingents wasn't unheard of in the Galaxy, but to see it occur between two opposing forces who would've preferred to avoid prolonged hostilities in the jungle was quite anomalous, especially between opposing elements that retained frightening stopping-power at the time; and despite the explosive end to the battle, their seclusion from the rest of Lao-Mon's struggles left the outcome of the battle quite inconclusive in the grand scale of the Maw's victory that day, an end-result that had been irking the rivalling commanders ceaselessly since. With all joy of victory sapped from their previous battle-experience together, it would become quite obvious that this meeting of minds would be one between those of much similar makings than either opposing commander had seen in their counterpart that day, in a way proving their lives' journeys had not been all that far-removed from each other's, with the same going for their clans' troubled recent histories.

'And so, without further ado - I, Michael of Clan Barran, declare total war on the Howling Crags Clan. Henceforth marking commencement of a blood-feud between the Dathomiri and the Woad-Macushla.... Will you accept this challenge on behalf of your clan, Daughter of Storm-Wielders?'

 

[Waymar Dathrohan]

P A L A D I N
KNIGHTS OF THE EMPIRE
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
ARMOR | LIGHTSABER
Amaya Vollmond

WITCHFINDER
​

He came to Dathomir expecting a battle of blade and body, not a battle of the words and mind. Though it might not have been regarded as an adversarial encounter between himself and the Witch opposite, tension and conflict was evident in their shared conversation. Like a sieging army throwing itself against a stalwart castle wall. A cut and thrust of philosophical difference was evident.

"The anxiety among the shared ranks of your peers is palpable, some, clearly, have something to hide. While I'm doubtful you share the same guilt or worry they might've, masking it with a flurry of comments and questions, drawing my focus away from the matters at hand certainly serve a similar function, Witch. Before you continue to mark me an 'inferior man', it might be best to realize the position you're in. The 'inferior' men and women of the Empire subjugated this world, your fate is ours and it is in your sole interest to abide by our bidding." Waymar said before eventually standing up from his seat, shifting his gaze to hers before eventually speaking up once more.

"I sentence you to-" His thought immediately disrupted before he was able to vocalize it as a bloodcurdling scream of pain yelped out from just beyond the door leading to the interrogation chamber. Someone among the group of Witches Amaya was thrown into the lot of served as the source of the shrieking note. Snatching ahold of his helmet once more, Waymar made way from the chamber alongside the Death Trooper standing vigil with him to investigate.

What he found was a wretched, gorey sight. Several stormtroopers cut down whey stood and the Witches themselves scattered. One phased from a cloud of darkness near him before thrusting their ebon metal blade toward the side of his abdomen. A loud hiss of his argent blade sparked to life and he turned to immediately force the blade from its course with a precise riposte, eventually locked in a clash with the shrouded Night Sister. But there were more and they sought vengeance.

 

[Aemilio Valaar]

Obj 1 - Nightsister Stronghold
Direct: Omari Cardon
Proximity: Knight Roi Lutador Aridius 'TK-1575' Mav Ryburn Nile Hark

His arm flew up, catching a stave that was sent flying up to his face. The impact was weaker than he expected, the wood cracked and split and as the Nightbrother retreated backwards, Voidwalker moved forward, punching his fist into the Dathomirian Zabrak's throat. The motion triggering the mechanism to extend the knuckle knife. He felt skin and muscle give way, and the warmth of blood splash onto the underlaying bodysuit as blood sputtered on him.

Twisting about, an axe swung past him, carving a furrow across the side of his ribs. His vibrosword spun about from the other side of his body and plunged into the slave's abdomen. The vibrating blade widening the wound far faster than a normal one before he snapped his wrist upwards, dragging out to deliver a heavy chop - through the next primitive weapon and carved his third assailant in half.

"NIGHTSIST-!"

The distant voice was cut off abruptly, contorted into pain as their voice echoed across the plains.

Blaster bolts whipped past him just as Omari's troopers collapsed on his position. Ahead, a Nightsister, presumably the one who had slain his men up ahead appeared. As he turned to level his blade at them, their hand raised, and a bolt knocked them off balance, before a second and third dropped them in the red dirt that covered the planet. Turning his head about, he saw Omari, Echo-4, and offered a singular nod before a charge detonated ahead of them.

"The gate is down," he said, deactivating the vibrosword and replacing it on his back. His rifle was pulled back around to his front in the meanwhile. "Diamond Formation on me, let's move!"

The various troopers of the Black Hands moved all around them. Those more experienced tended to have better supplementary equipment. Jetpacks, flamethrowers. Some even had rockets in place of anti-personnel rotary cannons. There was no expectation of the Witches possesing armoured vehicles, but heavy equipment was brought all the same. After the first detonation, the sound of explosions and blasted rock continued on, even after the Black Hands push through the front gate.

 

[Khaostra Devoid]

Post: 2
Objective: Come to God
Location: Dathomir Howling Crags, Cave Near Abandoned Howling Crags Village
Equipment: Red Midnight Duster | Red Sith Armor | Sith Mask | Grav Boots | CrushGaunts | x2 White lightsabers | Forearm Lanvorak | Wrist Laser | Variety of Explosives | RSKF-44 heavy blaster | X-21 shock glove
Tags: Michael Barran | Lord Letifer

​

“War a feud is what you want?” She mused slightly because of course he did endless war the same thing the Maw wanted for better or worse unending turmoil and strife. Deep down the Maw talked and spoke of building something new out of the destruction they caused, Even Khaos’s mother spoke of build a universe in her own image. Khaos herself had no such delusions, all she wanted was to see her people of Dathomri free like they had been under the dark coven. She fought to see it so the witches no longer had to kneel before false empires. So they were no long subservient to outsiders who didn’t understand or appreciate there culture and realize just how fierce it was.



“My Clan has nearly went extinct three times, once at the hand of the old Galactic Empire, at the hands of the Jedi the Hawk Family sold us out to, and at the hands of the sith that the last coven that ruled over this world sold us out to.” Khaos tone went monotone and deeply serious as she spoke to Michael. The anger in her subsided as she looked at him and she acted more her actual age in that moment not pretending to be younger than she actually was. She saw and felt he wanted this fight like a youth wanting to prove himself and she was far older then he. “The Blackwing once ravaged us and we survived and persevered” A bioweapon the Galactic empire had unleashed on her clan hoping it would over run the entire planet. “We survived the near annihilation of this planet as we tried to free it from republic and Jedi forces the family of Hawk of singing river clan sold us out to. We were so willing to let ourselves die and this planet die to be free of that tyranny." Khaos spoke as if she was there and indeed, she was though she herself had fled from that battle not person she was today. So many times, she had fled from who and what she was out of her own fear, but Csilla had opened her eyes.


On Csilla after a very long life she started to realize who she was and what she needed to fight for. Though she was old in terms of the Galaxy she was and always had been a mere child to her family so she had acted accordingly. It wasn’t until this moment the realization hit her, that to likes of Michael, his whole family, and the new imperial order he served she was ancient. She had run so long and so hard from having to grow up and face who and what she was.


“I tell you this because you do not know what you ask. My family extends beyond the Howling Crags my Coven is also my family and my blood any attack on my Clan extends to my coven and they are as plentiful as the stars. My Coven once ruled this world the sith empire of then, the Jedi of then, the republic, and Galactic empire of then all feared us. We the dark coven were so powerful they tried to bury us and erase our existence while trying to claim all our achievements and merits for themselves.” It wasn’t a threat she was delivering Michael but a warning the if he wasn’t careful the Dark Coven could rise again a force that was once unstoppable and feared well before the dark ages. This war he wanted to declare was not something that would be stopped once he started it. It would not end until the Clan Barren was ended completely. “So, I ask you though I can not speak for my aunt Ryn and the clan as a whole just deliver them the message are you sure you want this Child of Iron? Be sure this declaration is something you want because you will have to make sacrifices you aren’t yet ready to make.” Her tone was very serious the declaration he made was a very serious action one that would no doubt erase his whole blood line from existence though she could not make the call she could deliver the message to her aunt the on who held the title of Clan Mother.