We Come For Booty (Dominion Dom of Chiloon Rift and Irn)

[Atlas Kane]

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XyyL_TICbrU​

The lines grew shorter until they were points again. Once more the familiar hum of hyperspace faded out to give way to the almost unnoticed quiet rumble of the engines. The controls above him read everything was normal. He set his eyes on the view directly before him. The window protecting him was barely noticeable. Not that he cared, the view was breathtaking. A nebula filled with asteroids floating like a beautiful arrangement of stones caught in a snapshot as they fell to the solid ground of a planet. The multitude of gases that made up the nebula created a stunning amalgamation of colours and shapes that surpassed the beauty of works made by even the greatest of masters. This was the reason he chose to come to the stars, why his parents must have wished to come out here. Now they were gone, however. Killed on the ship that had taken him and his family from the Republic, another dead thing. He felt somewhat guilty thinking such grim thoughts in a moment where there was so much beauty before him, yet, there must be some bit of beauty even in death.

Crack

Small lines started forming on the viewport. they seemed to originate from a small fracture, it seemed hole-like. The lines began expanding rapidly until they covered the entire screen. Their shape reminded him of capillaries formed by veins. Then a louder crack happened and the glass shattered, sent flying outward along with litres of oxygen. Cabur too. He held on to the controls for a few seconds, however, his hands went limp, he couldn't understand why exactly. Then it hit him, the realisation of what had happened. The only way this crack could've come about was some form of projectile, maybe some space debris, and his hands, they went limp as a result of shock, shock that kept him from realising that his lower half had been pierced by something, most likely the same bit of space debris. He couldn't feel it, but as his gaze went down he saw it, a finger-sized hole in his lower chest. It had gone straight through the armour of his suit and punched through his spine, most likely. Blast, he knew he should have never taken off his proper armour.

A smile appeared on his face, he couldn't be angry, or sad. He didn't have anybody who depended on him, nor did he have anyone to care for. He had been alone and the statistical chances of something like this happening were minuscule, if not near zero. He thought it to be sort of anti-climactic. Fitting for an explorer, killed by something they thought impossible whilst on the hunt for something of the same nature. It was amusing, poetic even, in a way, he was sure of it. Poets could always find a way to make poetry of the most mundane things. Though he feared no poet would ever learn of the fate of a single explorer dead on the fringes of a small nebula in a remote region of space. At most he'd probably be found by some scavengers who'd quickly pick apart his ship and let his corpse drift off into space.

It was getting cold. His smile faded somewhat, replaced by a serene expression. His eyes were closed. He felt he was on Midvinter again. Hunting with his father. The temperature was about in the same range, at least he felt it was. He hadn't been to his home in ages, he could only remember the cold. It had been everywhere during his childhood, no matter where he went, he would end up somewhere cold. Fitting he die in it. Shame his body would never get to Midvinter. The chances of that happening were astronomically low too. Near impossible even. But hey, this happened to him, so what are the chances, eh? His body would burn up during re-entry into Midvinter's atmosphere, yet his ashes would at least be with his home. It would be the least the Force could do after killing him off this way. Though he knew it was wishful thinking. There was no point in believing it would ever happen. Now that was poetic, he thought.

He felt the desperate need for air set in, he could feel his brain trying to make him gasp for air desperately, reactively, but nothing came of it. There was no breath to be drawn, no air to take in. It was just the cold embrace of the void, and as he drifted, as his mind's struggle started dying down, he managed to put on a serene smile again, fading into unconcsciousness. The eternal void that follows a short, ephemeral something. Beautiful in a way, terrifying in another. Just like the Nebula and asteroids. Yet there were no more thoughts of that left now. None at all. Tiny bits of ice began forming on his armour as he floated off into the distance, to nowhere really.

Perhaps to Midvinter.

Yeah, that'd be nice.

[member="Lewis"]

 

[Zef Halo]

Port Menicha​

​

Chiloon Rift​

​

The armored figures were only given a quick appraising look from the businessman as the trio left the ship towards what seemed to be their temporary base of operations.

He listened carefully to what Lord Fa said while observing the ever moving holoprojection of a part of Port Menicha. The place was huge, Vitor had greatly underestimated it.

Any little thought at the back of his head that had spoken of military actions, whether covert or open were immediately erased.

Avendahl would fail.

Everything about Port Menicha reminded him of Humbarine, not as the location but as the events that had unfolded on the latter. Avendahl and Lord Fa's Spymaster, Akash Guul, played a significant part in the downfall of the Humbars. Would it be the same scenario here?

Vitor believed it was best to isolate Menicha from any possible comparisons. The Force whispered so.

"Military action is certainly doomed to fail." He agreed as his hand caressed his chin thoughtfully. "Any information on what or who stands behind the deaths of half of the council?"

The Knight doubted it was a natural death.

[member="Tai Fa"] | [member="Vanja Del'Vaan"]​

 

[Poe]

​Location: Irn (Farming Settlements Around Fairline)
​Objective: Scorch the Heretics
Equipment: Sith Sword, Sith Whip, My Teeth
​Allies: The Primeval
​Enemies: Dominion Forces/Allies



​The farming community, hosts to heretical beliefs and upbringing, conducted business as usual. Men worked and tilled the fields, planting the seeds that would one day provide the nourishment to sustain them through another life cycle; while other men tended the farming animals, categorizing which would be spared another year and which ones would be slaughtered for their flesh. The women of the community tended to their daily routines, switching between educating the children about life and the workloads of maintaining their independent gardens. The atmosphere, despite the whispers of trouble on Irn, was filled with an aroma of pride.

​The mood changed abruptly when the first dropship landed.

​The ramp dropped, spilling forth like a festering wound came the fluid of death as the small militia began opening fire on the men; killing most in the first volley. Those that survived the initial shock scrambled like rats on a burning ship to escape their extermination. The land they trusted for decades had now betrayed them, offering them up like sacrificial lambs granting them no cover or protection upon the open range. The men, the backbone of the community, were dead. The women and children were easily rounded up, split apart to endure separate judgments for turning from the Faith.

​The women's punishment was swift, each one put to their knees with hands bound behind their backs. The weeping and begging for mercy continued even after the first series of beheadings began. The headless corpses were piled up, set aflame, and offered up to the Gods of the Primeval. The heads, with faces frozen in images of terror, where designated for decorations.

​The children, made to suffer for the sins of their Fathers, were nailed to the farming community's buildings into a shape of a T alive. A cruel and mocking unconventional crucifixion to drain them of a future they would never see. The heads of their Mothers lay at the base of their feet; taunting the children whilst they slowly cried themselves into extinction.

"On this day," I said in between bites of human flesh, ​"You have been cleansed of your past Transgressions. From this day forward you are now pure, free of the taint that has infected your hearts. Go forth and return to the Gods you have forsaken. There among their embrace you will find salvation. There among the Gods you will be reborn as Children of the Primeval."

 

[Judas of Vahl]

Location: Sarnus, Chiloon Rift
Allies: The Dominion
Foes: The Primeval - [member="Aria Vale"], [member="Vaylin"]
Gear: See signature.

The carrier analogs were having a harder time navigating through the throes of asteroids than Judas' initial assumption. He'd figured that the Yaret-kors would be sufficient enough to reduce these rocks to slag so the Phobos and Zaelor could just plow right through the fields. And he was wrong, so sorely wrong. They began to bog down, Yorik-et deploying wildly to begin firing their own weapons in an effort to speed up the process and clear more space for the pair of carriers to cleave through these giant hunks of rock and mineral.

Be that as it may, Judas was not one to be slowed down by forces he had no control over.

He'd already kit up. That devastating self-inflicted wound on his forearm had completely healed, and the magnus and kraetos hummed pleasantly as he took both of them within his grasp. And so, the Wrath of the Dominion shouldered and stomped his way through the pulsing corridors of the Phobos until he'd made it to the "hangar bays."

Alegar, ever the vigilant Subcommander, had already arranged for several Yorik-trema to be outfitted with his forces. His best warriors, the most experienced of the Chazrach slaves, and several other heavy beats of burden and war were busily being loaded into them prior to their deployment to Sarnus.

The Chiloon Rift was known for its seemingly endless abundance of minerals. However, not many knew that there lay a single world within the rocky nebula. If his prior intelligence, and that uneasy feeling in his gut told him anything, it's that something was there. Something valuable, something that would quicken his ascent to power.

"Load up!" Judas cried, "Deploy when ready!"

His powerful, gruff voice resounded throughout the hangar. Several guttural voices answered in reply; war chants and pledges of sacrifice to the Yun'o.

With that, he slunk into a Yorik-trema of his own and was off, towards the surface of Sarnus.

 

[Tyberius Fel]

Objective: Secure the Seed of Rage

Allies: Dominion Forces and Associated Auxiliaries

Enemies: ????

"Where hath my love fled to, whisked away through starry night?~"

The Ferroan youth wailed in a undulating contralo, accompanied by deft fingers that danced across the delicate, spider-silk thin cords of his soul-harp. Song and instrument weaved a soft ballad of ambrosial sorrow.

"Will this dark endeavor of mine lead me to a similar fate of the star crossed lovers you sing of, mummer?"

Vorian Adasca inquired the bard with a swill of the Corellian Ale, body reclined hedonisticialy across a Tetan velvet Ottoman, indulging in every single pleasure that was denied to him under the ascetic doctrine of the Jedi with the exception of the flesh.

"By God's Grief or the Devil's Teeth, by the most woeful of agonies and the most splendid of triumphs.." The Ferraon singer did not hear him.

He could not hear him.

The orbs that stared out of his eye sockets were milky and smooth with blindness, his ears charred ruins from the scorch of napalm. The youth was once a conscript, tall and handsome, only to have everything robbed from him in the hellish madness of the Atrisian Tragedy; so said his mother with eyes swollen and rheumy with weeping. Everything, except his talent with the harp. The women loved him! She shrieked, half mad with grief. He was all she had left. Her husband had taken a slug to the breast months earlier and left her widowed, and her three other sons had signed up together on the same Frigate which had been raided by a marauding gang of blood-thirsty raiders and massacred to a man. The corpses were so mutilated they had to be identified by dental work came the time for burial.

So the Arkanian Sith took pity, enlisted the youth's services as an entertainer for a thousand credits a week and whisked him away.

Presently, Vorian contemplated the lad. Equipped with full knowledge of his terrible past, and he wondered whether that profound grief that echoed through every trembling note produced from fissured lips originated artificially from practice or hailed from somewhere deeper and darker within his heart.


"Have I made the right decision or will the Galaxy damn my memory years from now?"

"What monstrous cruelty that jealous fate has stolen you away, that you must ride eternal among the stars left dimmer by your absence..?"

Presently, Vorian contemplated the lad. Equipped with full knowledge of his terrible past, and he wondered whether that profound grief that echoed through every trembling note produced from fissured lips originated artificially from practice or hailed from somewhere deeper and darker within his heart.

"What monstrous cruelty that the deaf and sightless prove the most reliable of confidants."

Vorian spat bitterly, then consoled himself by swallowing his cups. He sunk further into the softness and peered out through the transiparsteel viewport. The Empyrean called out to him, dotted with beauty marks of twinkling nebulae and virgin infinities of the unknown. Great men forged Great Empires, Rakatans constructed their star forges of unfathomable power, Xim cleaved through a thousand lesser despots in his brutal conquests and thirst for madness and a countless Sith dynasties subjugated countless trillions to construct monuments to their greatness.

But nothing lasted forever. The Eternal Empire breathed it's last, Xim's Kingdom collapsed into the oblivion of infighting and discord and the Sith had been beaten and driven to the sands and decrepit tombs of Korriban tombs countless times.

Nothing lasted forever, so what did it matter?

"I need you to check on the Seed of Rage. Things are amiss, and I would prefer that it were secure."

Vorian laughed with relief. It was a liberating sensation to know with resolute certainty that no matter what actions he took upon this day or the next, eventually he would be forgotten. He would be forgotten and new heroes and legends would come and supplement his feet.

"I stand silent with ashes in my throat and cinders at my feet, and yearn for your gentle touch that was once so sweet.."

In a black and lilac swirl of waffled zeyd-cloth, Vorian vanished and left the singer to his grief.

[member="Antherion"]
[member="Cedric Grayson"]
[member="Abraxas"]

 

[Riamah]

While her connection to the Force was light and pale yet, Ra more than felt the extermination of not one town, but the surrounding area as well. Feeling helpless anger rise up at the death of the innocent, Ra needed to avenge their destruction.

Motioning to a few of the troops left with her, she ordered half of them to stay at the camp and keep it ready for the causalities, if there were survivors to be found at Fairline. The other half, she ordered to come with her and prepare for battle. She would personally slaughter whoever caused this.

Catching up with @Oawzza and [member="Causstik Rahn"], she joined her party with theirs and headed into battle with them.

 

[NightSister]

LOCATION: Sarnus, en route to nearby Primeval buildings
OBJECTIVE: The Primeval - coming soon to an outpost near you
ALLIES: The Primeval, [member="Vaylin"]
ENEMIES: The Dominion, [member="Judas Foster"]
MUSIC: Beast

The Force was her compass, and she followed its directions with a renewed zeal. Aria had grown familiar with the aura around everything Primeval, and its presence - or what was left of it - on Sarnus reached her easily, muted as the Dominion's damper had left it. It didn't do the job quite as well as a map might've done, but Aria knew exactly where to go.

She'd been lying if she said she hadn't been itching for a proper field battle for the longest time, but she was smarter than to seek one out. The Dominion and Primeval both sought after the planet; conflict would bloom as easily as breathing no matter how passive her part in it. Besides, the danger of rushing into a brawl extended now to Vaylin - as confident as Aria was that her apprentice would neither shy away from nor be immediately crushed in a fight, it wouldn't be right to act on that assumption. For now, she simply remained with the saber at her hand unlit, eyes watchful without ever seeking. Her search was through the force, after all.

Perhaps the Force had guided her landing, but finding an outpost where the fleeting darkness marking the Primeval's old presence was more manifest took a pleasantly short time. Not that she minding walking, but her love was for the active part of a mission. Now her stare was more calculating - the station laced with that familiar darkness bore the Dominion's symbol and she could see from here that its walls held the Dominion's ships. Her eyebrows went up in appraisal; clearly, she didn't like what she'd made of the building.

"So." She spoke quietly and without mirth in her voice, eyes darting between Vaylin and the station. "The Dominion took over the site and now it's fueling a couple dozen starships. We need to take it back, but there'll be people inside..."

She trailed off in a moment of thought, then the corners of her mouth turned up.

"I say we kill them."

 

[Teresa Zambrano | Darth Pellax]

Location: Sarnus, Chiloon Rift
Allies: TBA
Foes: The Primeval - [member="[COLOR=rgb(235,235,235)][URL="http://starwarsrp.net/user/11505-aria-vale/"]Aria Vale[/URL]"][/COLOR], [member="[COLOR=rgb(235,235,235)][URL="http://starwarsrp.net/user/14776-vaylin/"]Vaylin[/URL]"][/COLOR]
Gear: Revan's Robes, Revans Lightsaber


The shuttle hurdled down the the world shaking violently. When she others flew ships they made it seem easy. This girl was still new to it so there was still some unease doing things like this. Still this mission couldn't be avoided. A black mark had made her intentions clear and had surfaced. Teresa needed a pay day or living would soon because difficult. Informants, spy's and brokers thrived in this universe. People relied on them to make bounties and assassinations faster. The shuttle finally touched down with a heavy thud. Off in the distance was flashes from explosions every few moments. They light up shades of greens, reds and oranges the sky was also filled with blankets of smoke.

Her hands moved fluent across the console powering things off in the order she had been shown. A civilian on the world had sent out word Aria Vale was on the world, somewhere. All Teresa had to go on was a rough location now. She got out the seat lifting her hood over her head. Walking to the back she reached up on her tip toes to press the button to lower the ramp.

 

[Causstik Rahn]

Allies: The Dominion, [member="Owazza"]
Enemies: Primeval

[SIZE=11pt]Causstik and his forces reached the outer edges of the village. They collided with the first of the cultist and blaster fire rang out. Causstik band was not an average military unit. Some simply were equipped with Vibro blades. It was these forces that made first contact with the cultist. The seven foot tall beings would charge forth peppered with blaster fire some would fall, but the others enraged by a battle frenzy that was more addictive than the most powerful drug would continue on. They had become agents of utter chaos. Some even turning on each other in their search for blood. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“DIE!” Cried a T’dosch wielding a vibroblade. He was hit once, twice, thrice, but still he charged until he was upon the enemy. The cultist raised their own sword and impaled the Trandoshan warrior, but still his body ran on until finally he was at the beginning of the enemy blade, the tip of the enemy sword protruding from his back. He let out one last tremendous roar and loped off an enemy cultist head then collapsed finally dead. Causstik was among these forces. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]They were the Scorekeeper’s chosen. Those who were too old to keep steady aim. Those who had spent a lifetime of amassing Jagganath points and now were prepared to be weighed by the Scorekeeper. These were the warriors who wielded the blade. These elderly warriors were at the front and as they colided with the enemy Causstik was sure to take his share of Jagganath points.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]He raised his scattergun and fired at the nearest cultist. The man’s head exploded in a red mist. Causstik spun as another cultist fired at Causstik’s back. “GRAHAHAH!” The lizard warrior laughed maniacally as the laser rounds bounced off his shields. Causstik raised his wrist and flames belched from his arm, enveloping the man in a shroud of flame. The chaos, the blood, the FIRE. Causstik thought. It was enough to drive him crazy and so, he went bat poodoo. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Kill them. Burn them. Enslave them. Ravage them. MURDER THEM ALL! [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]The voices were becoming too much. The Scorekeeper demanded BLOOD! And, she demanded it NOW! Causstiks hands shot to his head the voices were too much to bear! It was a beautiful thing to be able to speak to the huntress. He knew what he had to do. They told him. They shouted at him to do it. Causstik’s hands fell from his head and he spied a leader among the cultist.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Her… She’s the one. Kill her… Bring me her HIDE! [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]The voices shouted one last time and Causstik knew what he had to do. He charged her. First on two feet, then he dropped to all fours, claws sprouted from his hands and he used them to dig into the earth and propel himself forward faster. Then as he was sure he could go no faster he activated his jetpack flying forward at ludicrous speeds. Over four hundred pounds of Trandoshan and armor would go barrelling forward and it was all aimed at [member="Satia"][/SIZE]

 

[Vaylin]

Location: Sarnus, Chiloon Rift - Enroute to Dominion controlled location.
Objective: Kill & Destory, one outpost at a time.
Allies: [member="Aria Vale"] [Primeval]
Enemies: [member="Judas Foster"] [Dominion] | [member="Teresa Shan"]
Gear: Lightsaber | Armor

The anticipation was positively buzzing within Vaylin right now. It felt keenly familiar to when she use to be moments away from a hunt. Though that had over the years dulled into a boring routine consisting of the same beasts. She had learned their habits and behaviours, how the moved and where they nested. It went without saying that Dxun had lacked variety after a certain point. Now everything was new, Aria had severed those roots and uplifted her to something new; something better. For years Vaylin had been alone, and had come to like it too. But now she had her Master, one who had even in a much shorter time done more for her than her Master before that. The one who had abandoned her on that moon.

She'll follow and obey, right up until she is unleashed upon the enemy. Whether that be her Master's or the Primeval's.

As she walked, Vaylin kept her senses sharp. Eyes observing and ears listening, even her nose picked up the odd scent here and there. Though as they neared their destination, it was quickly overwhelmed by the fumes that were wafting from the station. Vaylin wrinkled her nose in disgust. She used the time to also practice, stretching out her Force senses slightly though it was at much lesser degree than Aria. Only enough to go a couple feet in each direction, Vaylin wasn't foolish enough to go further incase they alerted anyone to their presence. It was one of the first things her Master had seen to teaching her. Control; focus. When Aria had found Vaylin, she was practically a beacon when it came to her presence in the Force. The only thing Vaylin had going for her was the fact Dxun had for eons been infested with the dark side that she had been able to just blend in.

When they had stopped, Vaylin looked out at the building before them. It did nothing for her, whereas she could tell Aria wasn't particularly pleased with what she was seeing. To Vaylin it was nothing more than their supposed target, and within was her prey.

She looked over at her Master, listening to her words. Vaylin's fingers drumming against her armored leg, near where her lightsaber hung on her belt.

A feral grin appeared as she gazed upon the station.

"I was hoping you'd say that, Master."

 

[Riamah]

In the mix of the bodies and blood, Ra felt her heart start beating in the tempo of the battle. Her knives, now drawn from her sleeves slashed at the cultists bodies. She ever so carefully avoided harming any innocent bystanders and the are around her died down for a moment as the battle raged on nearby. There, her attention was drawn to a woman.

Blood was dripping from the mouth of the woman and she watched as [member="Causstik Rahn"] charged head onto her. Smiling slightly, Ra took the opportunity provided to her and dashed behind [member="Satia"], coming up as smoothly as a shadow, her now bloody knives poised to stab her when the Trandosian made contact.

 

[Ras'kala'han]

Location: The Acerbitas
Objective: Steal the Seed of Rage
Enemies: [The Dominion] [member="Abraxas"], [member="Vorian Adasca"], [member="Cedric Grayson"]
Allies: [The Primeval] [member="Lethia Morow"], [member="Moravian Zambrano"], [member="The Slave"], [member="Boethiah"]

When Vesper sensed dark forces moving against him as he had the guards march, eyes glazed and step locked, towards the hangar bay, he was far from surprised. The senses of such beings were keen, but more than that, even amongst the hollow, confused democracy of the Dominion, it was the darkest flames that burned the hottest. Their fires of hatred, of resentment, and of the desire for power, all of these fueled them to do the one thing that could defeat anyone, irrespective of all skill and odds: the unexpected.

Unfortunately for them, he had a few surprises of his own.

"Stand aside." The Sith bore down on the Seed, waving away the escorts. He hefted it, weighing it in one hand as it whispered muderous ideas into his mind, stoked his hidden rages and mocked his deepest secres. He held it close for a moment savoring the deathly pain. "And say goodbye."

"Sir, what do you —"

"RAGE."​

​

With one word, he fanned the fires that the artifact of Fulminiss had ignited. The thing was lost, odds are, it was ancient, but it was from his time. It was a thing of terrible corruption, and he would channel its hatred outwards, directly and unabashedly. Let every heart burn with the anger and sorrow and passion that he felt, and let it incinerate their consciousnesses. Riot and scream. Thrash and lash out. Feel true, true anger.

The first to feel the effects were the quartet of guards, the ones nearest to them. No physical change was immediately apparent, but their eyes opened red and bloodshot. Their breathing grew unsteady and erratic, they swayed, and then they straightened themselves. Was that a point in their teeth? Were their nails coming to razor points, was that a pallor in their skin? Maybe. Soon, yes. Firelight pulsed under their skin and in their veins, and they snarled as speech abandoned them.

"You know your prey. You sense them, as I do. Hunt them down and drink their blood, tear their flesh."

They rushed away. Two a man was hardly enough to kill a Sith -- but it was enough to surprise them, perhaps. And more were on the way. Two turns, two hallways, and across the hangar bay to his ship. Not far at all. He lifted the Seed above his head like a beacon, and smiled as he let it shine its deadly light. No Dominion would ever hold him down again.

 

[Darth Eversor]

There it was, that feeling.

The Dread Seed had come alive, and Abraxas could practically taste copper in the air. This thing, it was pure hatred... and the Sith, deep down, admired it.

Craved the sensation of power running through his veins like lightning; the ultimate in designer drugs.

Abraxas began to rush, charge even, to the location of where the source of the power emitted from, almost as if it were a beacon calling directly to him - a lure for power incarnate that he could not stand to approach at a crawl. As he nearly approached the hangar bay, the Sith was confronted by two horribly disfigured guardsmen. Their flesh discolored, over-sized veins pulsating with tainted blood cells that carried the signal of the Dread Seed like a viral frequency.

"...So it has begun. None are safe."

Letting out a growl, Abraxas reached out through the Force, picking up one of the two twisted men and slamming them against the ground, their skull splitting open into a mess of pulp. "...It...will...be...MINE!" The next target was skewered through with a lightsaber as elongated nails-turned-to-claws scraped against the Sith's phrik armor. Without a moment more, the body wilted into a corpse, a smoldering wound being the only visible definition of murder.

They deserved it.

Abraxas marched onward, determined - yet, driven by the wrong train of thought. The hangar bay was just ahead, and the taste of power was just on the tip of the tongue.

[member="Vorian Adasca"] | [member="Antherion"] | [member="Cedric Grayson"] | [member="Judas Foster"] |

 

[Judas of Vahl]

Location: Sarnus, Chiloon Rift
Allies: The Dominion - [member="Teresa Shan"]
Foes: The Primeval - [member="Aria Vale"], [member="Vaylin"]
Gear: See signature.

The Force was a gift, it was a tool, it was his. Judas was well far from mastering everything this mysterious force of the galaxy had to offer, he had barely even tasted what it had to bring to the table. What he had felt, what he had done with it in his entire life, had been absolutely exhilarating. What would have happened to him had this gift not been bestowed upon him? Judas would've been weak, spineless, not strong enough to do or say anything with a little weight behind it. People who couldn't tap into its energies and power were nothing. Mere objects.

But the Yuuzhan Vong were different, Judas had learned. During his tenure of service with the One Sith in the olden years, he'd come to know these beings as something of a family to him, if anything. Absent in the Force, addicted to pain and sacrifice, loyal to their gods and everlasting in their great quest to cleanse the galaxy. The Hrosha-Gul, the price of pain, were fanatical in their ideals. Judas had promised them a time, a chance to finally carry out their mission. It had taken years of sacrifice and trial to finally get that through their thick skulls.

Now they had learned how genuine he was. He wanted it too. To wipe the slate clean, to grow a new civilization that was the strongest. A people of sacrifice and endurance, a people of pain and strife. Struggling was the only way one could grow.

He could only hope that this Primeval had struggled enough to turn into ample opponents. Slaying them like wheat before a thresher held no satisfaction, it bore no honor. Cutting down these people was far too easy. Judas craved the very thought of them making him bleed. He relished the thought.

The rocking of the Yorik-trema in high atmosphere threw him back into reality. The warriors on each side of him were dangerously quiet. There was no idle conversation nor last minute talk of battle plans. The only thing on their minds was glory and sacrifice; to struggle and bleed enough for the Yun'o to notice. May Yun-Yammka shine upon us on this day, Judas thought.

KATHOOM!

Then it hit the ground. Molleung worms spat them out with a quickness and then they were out on the ground, near the forward fueling station the Dominion had established for advance deployments. Several other Yorik-trema landed near the first with ground shuddering thuds, spilling more Chazrach and Yuuzhan Vong warriors.

"Secure the perimeter!" Judas snarled, raising the magnus high above his head. "Slay anything that is not one of us. Tear them, rend them, break them."

And woe to our enemies.

 

[Dune Rhur]

Off the deck of the Acerbitas and into the black. The Bith could feel the hum of the sublight engines as he guided the stealth fighter. He'd placed a headset custom molded for his species in his ears. Into it he communicated with the flagship.

The Jedi was away safely and made for enough distance to make the short jump into the Rift. He made his way past patrol craft on his way. Further out he went by probes and finally into the clear. Here he flicked on the fighter's hyperdrive and sent a message to [member="Cedric Grayson"].

"I'm making the jump momentarily. I'll be in touch."

When the ship's board chimed in readiness he punched the engines. All around him black stretched into the swirling blue chaos of hyperspace. The hum was subtly different to his highly sensitive auditory organs. It was nice to be behind the yoke of a fighter again.

He wasn't a fighter jock but it was so much more responsive. The subtlest twitch of the stick and the fighter would move. So much better than a shuttle if less practical. And it's hyperdrive was much more powerful.

So it was that the jump was very short. In just a few moments he'd reverted back into real space. Switching back to sublight engines he was now on the very edge of the Rift. He punched another button to bring the cloaking system online.

The Bith spooled the engines back and let the fighter drift. Now he reached out with the Force and he felt the wrongness....

Allies: [member="Bartic Myth'rand"] [member="Judas Foster"]
Enemies: The Primeval
Objective: Observe and report

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Location: Asteroid Field, Chiloon Rift
Allies: The Primeval -
Foes: The Dominion - [member="Bartic Myth'rand"]

In the depths of the Chiloon Rift, The Slave floated aboard the Y-8 turned pirate vessel. His chin supported by his hand, he idly scrolled through a series of HoloNet messages about news in other areas of the galaxy. New cooking shows, border conflicts between the First Order and Galactic Alliance, spice shipments claimed near the core worlds…

Boring.

With a tap of his finger, the screen closed with little more than a meek beep. He sighed, idly waiting for his various teams to report on their success. Already most had sent word of the alliance they had formed, but still he waited for a number of them left. Pirates and miners brought to the brink of poverty, cabals of heretics still hidden in the asteroid belts, and untold huddled masses came in ships of all sorts to his position, even now.

Hailing them in a group, his words rang clear through each of the speakers and headsets within his range, stoic and proud they came with little remorse for the alternative;

“The Dominion has pushed you to the brink, tarnished your beliefs, indiscriminately killed despite the desperate pleas to escape. They deserve no sympathy for what they have done.”, he said, holding onto what sincerity he could muster.

“Today you bring to them the horrors brought upon you. To each of your consoles a plan has been designated. Now, I understand what it might imply… But consider the alternative. You are criminals to them, hunted and maimed, marked for the slaughter.”

He took a moment to bring a small cigarello to his lips, illuminating his face in a soft orange hue before snuffing the flame.

“The Dominion feels your passion today. Let their ships burn like the fire in your heart.”

And with that, he closed the link. Did he believe what he told them? Of course not, he couldn’t care less about what he told a series of privateers and self employed broke miners. There was a reason they couldn’t survive on their own, and he has no sympathy for such, but sparing a few choice words on why you might certainly helps to raise moral.

Besides, what he really sought was those dogmatically controlled by the Primeval’s doctrine. For his plan to work, they were the only thing that was important…
And so they waited for the rest of their makeshift fleet amidst the asteroids and mining debris left by millennia of industrial processing. Silently awaiting the moment The Dominion strayed too close to his newly declared territory.

 

[Audren Sykes]

Location: Chiloon Rift
Objective: Survive, mess with Primeval plans
Allies: [member="Dune Rhur"]
Enemies: Primeval

"More information is coming in, sir. Sending it to your terminal."

Thankfully, whoever had compiled the intelligence had also put a synopsis at the front, so Audren didn't have to read through the entire thing to get a picture of what was going on. It essentially boiled down to the Dominion was active in this area now. Their forces were concentrated around Irn, but they also had naval forces in the Rift itself. The Irn forces had stamped down on any who opposed them, a number of which appeared to be cultists. No doubt some remnants of when the Primeval were the power in this area. Naval forces had 'convinced' most of the pirates to turn to privateers or forced them out of the Rift. A few remained, but just a few.

"Why were we not made aware of this earlier, Captain? We've been here for a while."

"Unknown, sir. Possibly because of peculiarities in the Mesh."

Barely audible through the link came the voice of Kallukorus, the comm officer.

"Communications, sir. Dominion vessels transmitting."

A demand to power down weapons, shields, and engines. A glance at the repeater display in the observation lounge didn't seem to place any of the vessels near them, but the roiling plasma of the Rift played havoc with long-range sensors. Instead the Master returned to the Force. He didn't try to reach out and determine numbers or establish authority, simply attempted to find out if any attention was being paid to the frigate and mining vessel. Passive, rather than active use of the Force that would likely draw less attention. Fortunately, that didn't seem to be the case quite yet; neither side was really paying attention to them.

"Sensors at full power, Korus. I want to know if anyone starts approaching. Captain Dankos, inform our guide of what's going on, make sure she understands the situation. If it comes to it, we cover her while she retreats."

In all honesty, the Sephi wasn't sure about the Dominion. The group claimed to unite Jedi and Sith for the better of the galaxy, yet the way they'd stomped out resistance on Irn seemed possibly excessive. The Primeval, on the other hand, he knew were unsavory. Witches, mind-twisters, those utterly corrupted by the Darkness. While his dealings with them had been minor, they'd left an indelible mark within his memory. He knew which side he'd work with if it came down to it. There were even rumors that the Dominion had several full-on Jedi in their ranks. Those would be the optimal liaisons.

 

[ToKola Bakari]

Location: Asteroid Base, Center Asteroid Field, Chiloon Rift
Objective: Find out the situation
Allies: [member="Bartic Myth'rand"]
Enemies: [member="The Slave"] [member="Boethiah"]

As his men worked to regroup Zaz stood in the command center, his eyes locked on the screens before him. The surrounding nebulae and asteroids played havoc with the base's sensors and left little the man could do from his standpoint. It was not until he heard his comm device ring through his head that his attention was demanded elsewhere. He made no attempt to reply to the man for a moment as his eyes remained locked on the screen in front of him.

"Sir! Irn is under attack!" The Mandalorian turned his attention to one of the Cerberus Troopers who stood behind him. "What?!" He demanded, immediately turning his attention back to the screens before him. As he did the Cerberus Trooper repeated his report. "Yes sir, it's been under attack since we landed here."

A moment of pause was given before Zaz realized it was all too possible they were sitting in a trap. "Get the men loaded into the transports!" He commanded, turning away from the screens and making his way to the hanger's. "Director." He called out over the comm. "I have reports of a strike on Irn, I repeat. I believe that vessel is an enemy ship. Destroy it immediately. My men will begin boarding procedures but we cannot land if it is operational and it's defenses are up."

He toggled his comm, fury burning through him as he strode through the asteroid base. Who was foolish enough to attack them?

 

[Boethiah]

Chiloon Rift - Cathedral ship

Allies: [member="The Slave"] | Anyone else aboard
Enemies: [member="Bartic Myth'rand"] | [member="Zaz Tal'Verda"]

The starship found itself situated with a thick field of asteroids between it and the other fleet. Within the nebula it proved hard to track and engage enemy starships, but smaller vessels--such as those used for boarding--would find it more possible to navigate the many obstacles. Engines grew cold, and weapons powered down... The ship brought itself to a slow crawl.

Other ships in the fleet continued their descent deeper into the nebula, they remained unaware that their lead ship halted but all the same found themselves undetectable for a time. "Why are we slowing?" Boethiah looked to the walls of the starship, her eyes following the curvature of the room. One high priest stepped forth and knelt. "Patience, Your Worship. The time to act will come but that time is not now. Hone your strength, hear the whispers that surround you..." She took a deep breath and paced to the center of the temple where she would meditate.

The high priest stood up, "I will bring you what you need," he says before departing.

Boethiah sat herself at the dead center of the room, her kath hounds lazily lounged on the throne at one end and a pair of guards stood watch over the entryway at the other. The force moved mysteriously and through her it awoke more than just one of the two residing spirits. Both came into play, and they sparred for influence over the young woman's mind. Offering her a taste of their innate power, a chance to invoke more than the Gods' will.

Earlier she found control over these influences, a feat she had been training for the last half decade on her journey throughout the stars. "I am in control... I am in control... I am--" Her muttering stops.

"I know what I am, and now I know what I must become."

 

[Eugen Aker]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OG8GxzJTBck​

Location: Champion-class Destroyer KSV Hoth's Light, in transit.
Objective: Work my way toward [member="Aria Vale"], and company
Allies: Dominion ([member="Cedric Grayson"]), anyone shooting at the Primeval
Opposition: Primeval ([member="Boethiah"]), anyone shooting at me
Neutral: Order of the Sacred Lotus (Just in case they show up for healing care and rehab.)

Then

A few days before a then starry-eyed apprentice Arisa was to have her first Master, Coruscant had been sacked by the One Sith. Years later, she would spend her first hours as a fully-fledged Jedi Knight amid the smoldering wreckage of a devastated Voss-ka collecting the dead after a Syndicate raid. It looked to be that the fine of the tradition of unfortunate events would continue, as a few days outside of being formally recognized as a Jedi Master, she was on her way to another massacre in progress. What was supposed to have been a simple joint-counterinsurgency operation had evolved into a full-scale battle against agents of a reconstituted Primeval. There had been whispers of their reemergence, and now they had finally reared their heads in most gruesome fashion.

Peace, or even a little respite, seemed quite far out of reach within her lifetime, though by now she had resigned herself to her fate. The life of the Jedi was one of sacrifice, and she would continue to do so if it at least meant a better life for those of the next generation.

She hadn't meant for her apprentice [member="Rekieh Atur"[/FONT][FONT=georgia]] to get caught up in this mess, but in the soldier's mind, there was no better time for learning like some good old fashioned OJT. If normal grunts without even a lick of Force ability could charge into battle with her, then so could he - [/FONT][FONT=georgia]Rakieh[/FONT][FONT=georgia] knew what he had signed up for becoming the Watchman's apprentice. Though she wouldn't let him go into combat twirling any lightsticks. At this level in his training, he was more liable to whack himself than his opponent, and she wanted to get him [/FONT][FONT=georgia]on[/FONT][FONT=georgia] the track of becoming a practical, versatile Sentinel like she. [/FONT]

[FONT=georgia]"The is the [URL="http://starwarsrp.net/topic/101513-kg-1b-famos-mk-ii-neutral-particle-beam-rifle/"]KG-1B[/URL] combat system," Arisa informed Rakieh as she held up the carbine with the twin barrels pointed safely toward the floor, voice raised so she could be heard over the packed hangar of crewmen and soldiers. "Better known as the Famos. Top barrel fires a continuous neutral particle beam that will accurately hit a point target out to 500 meters. Its range and velocity is almost unrivaled by what's available today. Has an alternate stun fire mode of ion blasts that will get around most lightsabers or fancy alchemized swords, and stop a droid dead in their tracks."

"Bottom barrel is an integrated 20mm repulsor-based mass driver," she explained as she tapped the underside of the carbine. "Good for both point and area targets up to 300 meters. Variable munitions types, but my personal favorites are vibro-flechettes. At 20mm, they can easily pierce Beskar'kandar. If the shock doesn't get them, then those nice plate sized exit wounds will."

"This will be your primary weapon today," she said as she handed it to the Miraluka. "We have a little time before we reach the rift, so I'm going to run you through some quick drills to at least get you familiar with handling. I trust you're at least familiar with a basic blaster, and this is even easier to aim with the advanced targeting system and recoil dampeners. Then you'll be getting assistance from one of these."

At the word 'these', her brown eyes flicked over to a column of gleaming phrik and lamanarium power armors. Tougher than most Mandalorian armor, one of these would keep him quite well protected. Well, about as well protected as one could be going up against the horrors of the Primeval.

((This isn't yet reflected in my tags, but I'm coming into this as a Jedi Master.))