Dominion Who Will Save The World | Dominion of Nyriaan | NIO

[Kascalion Giedfield]

Armor: X | Lightsaber: X | Right Arm: X
Objective: Fight Someone
Engaging: Bastard

​

The boy's reaction to the assault was as expected: shocked, frantic, and then recuperating. An arm dislocated from the kick and the black armor of the same area sizzling with beautiful orange. The breath knocked from his lungs as he blocked and dodged the onslaught that seemed to have no end initially. Only when Kascalion saw the boy rolling with the impact against his massive runic blade did he cease his planned continuation of strikes, watching with an invisible smirk of "good" as the black sword suddenly twirled in a tight circle aimed for his glaring skull.

Kascalion immediately swung to his right, bracing his crimson blade against the sword that, despite the weakness of its owner, was still impactful enough to push the man against the wall of the mines. An audible and short laugh resounded through the immediate area as the Devil pushed back against the black blade. Sparks of this momentary stalemate, perhaps let to extend as far as it by the skeletal titan, filled the air around the two combatants, lighting up their features in dazzling yellows and reds.

"You look tired, boy," the Devil snickered, a sound resembling a prolonged hiss. "Are you weary of the fighting already? Or are you spent on resisting that evil within you? The sin that makes you different than your fellow Knights who are oh so capable of walking the sickening balance? It must be exhausting being a failure!"

The cretin would suddenly push against the black blade to create an opening. If successful, he would grab the hilt of his lightsaber with both hands and attempting a rolling diagonal strike followed by an upward carving attack. Kascalion would raise the crimson blade over his head and twirl it in a circular motion to carve the ceiling and drop thick shards of glass and rock into the eyes of his foe. He would then swing it downwards for the armored leftward clavicle in an effort to carve him in half.

If this was not successful, which it certainly would not be given the apparent persistence of the boy in the face of Immortuous, he would immediately try for the upward attack. This would be a slightly lower, yet still diagonal swing aimed more for the waist and torso of the knight to bring about the same result as the first attempt. As he went about performing these possible actions, the Devil would simultaneously hope this Knight Errant brought out something new and refreshing to make this dessert that much more filling.

 

[Marcad]

Objective: This is mine
Tags: Mogra'teksa

​

He could sense her anger; her hatred. It was intoxicating and impossible for him to not resist in relishing her raw emotions she felt towards her. Anger led to hate, and her hatred for him gave him a smile.

Good.

If anything, he silently applauded the Twi’lek as her emotions gave her a strong connection to the Force, giving her a power at her disposition. An opportunity that presented itself to her to take, especially after whatever pain she suffered when he slammed her into the ground just now. A bone crippled perhaps? Had to be something excruciating after that yell when air refreshed her lungs.

And yet she would not surrender herself to whatever fate awaited her.

Through the Force his body was grabbed and thrown into the wall closest to him. Such surprise widen his eyes, cursing under his breath at her successful attempt when he was grabbed by her telekinetically. The wind knocked out of his lungs when his body crashed into the solid rock of the mine’s wall, even his face knocking into the sediment rock which dazed his vision and blood streamed down from a gap on his head. He yelped loudly from the pain, nerves shooting at every area in his body, especially his wounded leg that was afflicted by the blaster bolt earlier. Cewr wheezed loudly, begging for air to fill his lungs as little breath entered his wind pipe. In his current state the mercenary woman continued her attack on him, showing little mercy to him.

Good.

He expected none from her, after all he advanced on her without hesitation. In fact, part of him admired her lack of remorse against him. Two more orange streaks of plasma fired at him, his vision still slightly shocked when his head slammed against the wall of rock. The first blaster bolt he deflected away from its original vector, but the second passed through his defense and made its mark on his forearm which carried his lightsaber. The armorweave fabric on his arms was slightly weak compared on his main, the blaster burned and vaporized the tissue of his arm. Upon so, his lightsaber even fell out from his hand which left the two in darkness.

“E-even still, I can...sense you,” he fought for words as his lungs calmed themselves as air streamed through them. There was no light, but he didn’t need that to find her. Remembering the last position of her silhouette and feeling her dark aura in the Force, he took two steps before launching himself at the Twi’lek with incredible speed behind his feet. He’d fight her like a primal animal, wanting to tackle her to the ground and mount her just to bash her face with his knuckles.

 

[Mogra'teksa]

Y O U S T U P I D G I R L
THE SIDEWINDER
OBJ | THIS IS MINE
Marcad

The lethan's aching, bruised shoulders heaved with every strained rasp for broken breath. Sweat glistened across her brow in the warping light of his blade, betraying the strain she attempted to conceal. She didn't have much left in the tank and he definitely would have been able to sense it. Taste it, even. She couldn't channel her rage for long. However, the minor victory she earned when her successive blows landed was enough to reinforce her courage and bolster the determination she nursed in her battered core. ​

That was until the sole light in the black cave was extinguished and his chilling words forced her to shudder as he resigned to his feet in the darkness:​

“E-even still, I can...sense you,” he fought for words as his lungs calmed themselves as air streamed through them.

She twisted her head, holstering her blaster as she listened, trying to pinpoint where he was. This was not ideal in the slightest. He had a far, far greater sense in the dark than she did- she was utterly blind. Mogra'teksa shuffled backward haphazardly, dazed, and utterly exhausted from her taxing efforts thus far. But she wouldn't falter, no, she would claw tooth and nail after the chance to see the light streaming through the mouth of this sun-forsaken tunnel again.​

As she dashed forward with what little she had left, he tackled her, only earning another ragged gasp of surprise and pain. She bared her teeth, gritting them tightly as reflexes kicked in, and she slammed her beskar armguards together in front of her face, guarding as he pinned her with his weight. She tucked her chin, bracing the insides of her armored forearms against her crown as he bashed away, smashing at the worn metal. With his straddle on her hips, she could figure where his legs were positioned, and she sucked a breath, anticipating the pain of what she was about to suffer in order to once more attempt the upper hand on the opponent she was otherwise no match for.​

The gunslinger snapped her left arm away from her face, opening it for his armored fist to connect, but she kept her chin tucked, ensuring his knuckles crashed into her forehead and not her eyes or nose. All the same, however, the sheer pressure slung behind his punch was enough to bounce her skull off the stone beneath it, pinning her coiled lekku under it and earning a sharp whimper. But this, like all of her dealings, was a trade. Blood trickled into her eye, sourced from the split in her tattooed hide his armor cleaved.​

He landed a nasty blow to her face and she repaid him in kind by finding that searing wound on the outside of his thigh and absolutely jamming her fingers into it as far as she could reach. ​

"G-get off!" She growled weakly, raking her nails through the bloody, burnt flesh. ​

 

[Rurik Fel]

M A N _ O F _ I R O N
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
LORD EXECUTOR
KNIGHTS OF THE EMPIRE
Iron Skin | Lightsaber
Bastard | Darth Immortuos | Kascalion Giedfield

CLEANSE THE SINS
​

The god of Blackwing. The truest scion of death, in the flesh. Or lack there of. That horrid gaze distorted and warped by its horrid fixation to the putrid and depraved. It looked to the Lord Executor with only evil in its piercing eyes, its crooked smile. A fizzure snatched at Rurik's consciousness. A threatening surge of the darkness fixated on him.

But he would endure. Immortuous was stripped bare of the weakness that grasped the hearts of mortal men. No fear in his eyes. Only the intent to undo, the intent to make death unto the very man opposite of him. To break the iron.

He lurched once more toward the Man of Iron. It was then that his aim diverged from protecting the Crestfallen knight and unto defeating the foe before him. After Immortuous launched himself toward the Man of Iron, Rurik shouldered into the charge himself, reeling his argent blade back to thrust the blade of silver retribution into the blackened heart of Immortuous all the while he converged the Force around him, to will a barrier around his mortal shell in the hopes of inhibiting the diseased envelopment in his methodic fury.

"From death you have come and unto death you will return." Rurik says coldly.

 

[Darth Immortuos]

It was as the Executors argent blade was thrust forth into the would-be Sith lord, did Immortuos shuffle to his feet. Located across the cavern to the left. A single frail body. Adorned in charred garb and half burnt cloaks. While the argent blade pierced the construct causing it to shriek in pain. Not soo after did the construct begin revel in a laugh though and cease all movement as the argent saber burned a hole wider and wider in its rotting flesh.

If it was not suddenly apparent that it was a trap. Then now it would become so.

It was all a ruse!

" Silence dog! You have no purpose other than to suffer by my hand!" Immortuos seized the moment to strike. His hate filled gaze willing his new surge of force energy to spring into action. As Immortuos stood there motionless, his focus fell apon the biological functions of Rurik Fel himself. Feeling the flow of the inter-workings of his body, Immortuos attempted to subject it to his will and cripple the Man of Iron. Seeking to heavily disturb the functions of his stomach, bladder, muscles and equilibrium. To subject him to sensations of dizziness, nausea and muscle cramps. Malacia.

As strong as the Knight appeared to be, Immortuos secretly hoped the man would soil himself.

Tags:
Bastard
Kascalion Giedfield

 

[Djorn Bline]

P U N I S H E D _ S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
NYRIAAN
BODYGLOVE
ARUMED

The only assumptions they could make about the organic, breathing cargo unloaded from the trucks was that their main purpose were to be expendable test subjects; guinea pigs to be experimented on without remorse. If people were bound and brought against their will to this scientific facility, then they could guess what insidious machinations happened without anyone giving a damn. That all would change once New Imperial Order looked more closely within the immoral practices happening at this compound.

Of course, the question was why not send a task force and outright assault the facility? Why prolong the inevitable and send two special operatives on a covert operation? The real answer, the actual truth was the value of a target COMPNOR identified amongst the staff. The chief director with a potent of knowledge that could serve the New Imperial Order. Luckily, his brains didn’t match his brawn. Discretely acquire the target, in order to avoid Imperial Jurisdiction. That and any data they could spare to acquire.

<“Going through the front isn’t really much our style. I say we scale the building and find an unconventional entry point for us.”>

One thousand yards when trying to crawl to the facility took much longer than needed, and even more with the equipment and armor they carried. An idea like that would be more suitable out in the wild flora. Impractical when in a scenario like this.

<“Come on, let’s get move.”>

The night was still on their side and their armor was optimal in blending in with their surroundings, the only thing that would destroy that illusion was thermal vision and the lights that at every few places around the compound. But like Nima said: the night was fading and it wouldn’t be long until the sun conquered the night.

Stooping low, he came out from the crouched position they were when observing the trucks and moved quickly to the the exterior wall of the facility. No one was alerted of their presence yet.

Good.

A grappling hook fired and was secured, in order to climb the facility.

<“Holding up good?”>

Nima Appw'rii​

 

[Marcad]

Objective: This is mine
Tags: Mogra'teksa

​

He had her pinned against the stone, uneven floor of this cavern mine. Working in near utter darkness as some rays of light graced the two of them to be able to see something, although it was minimal. From what he could tell this woman was a Twi’lek, her large lekkus that he could see gave away to what race she belonged. Naturally beautiful as all females of that species were graced with great beauty which was why they were sold in ludicrous prices as slaves.

Even then, her looks would do no good to derail Cewr from killing her. Although he did begin to have second thoughts...

A grin etched his lips when she whimpered at the force of his knuckles, both his hands using a gauntlet made of armored mesh that only helped to amplify strength when grabbing anything and able to crush it. Another hit land across her face, blood trickled on her face just as he did when the Twi’lek slammed him into the cavern’s wall not too long ago. They both bled and suffered from this clash, the mercenary fought for every inch to escape this bloody brawl that she couldn’t win in the long run. Trained she was, but she had much to learn.

And then...

“GAAAAAAAAAH!”
​

Pain erupted in his thigh and stunned him entirely from continuing his onslaught on the mercenary, his back arched and the muscles of his face twitched. It shook him at every part of his body, his voice echoed against the walls of the mine. Her fingers shoved themselves as far as they could into the wound of his thigh, blood flowing out of the wound and muscles torn when she buried deeper and deeper into his flesh. He surrendered the dominant position he had against her, slipping off from her hips and rolled away from where she was. The Dark Jedi gasped for air, a tear of pain escaping from his eye as he tried to find respite from the pain the Twi’lek delivered onto him.

Such pain, such humiliation only fueled him as a wave of anger flowed within him which summoned the Dark Side to him. A hint of sulfur consumed his iris, his teeth grinding from the pain and anger he felt. He would not suffer her anymore.

A cackling streak of lightning escaped his fingers, burning the particles of the air as the energy would deliver an agonizing pain across her body.

Cewr wanted her to suffer before delivering whatever fate she deserved from the Force.

 

[Mogra'teksa]

M O O N L I G H T
THE SIDEWINDER
OBJ | THIS IS MINE
Marcad

His roar of pain cast him away from her and she lay there dazed for a second longer, squeezing her useless eyes shut against the reeling black. She didn't need them anyway, and the sting of blood only distracted her- even though it felt so very far away at this point. The twi'lek pushed herself over onto her side, coughing and sputtering up blood. Whatever he had broken in her ribs earlier was rearing its ugly head as her channel finally ceased and weakness overtook her. She managed to roll onto her knees, propping herself up on her forearms, doubled over, as she struggled to breathe- each attempt drawn in wet and rasped. ​

"C'mon M-Mogs, g-get up-" she whispered to herself, only to hear the murmur echo back around her, and Cewr's distant, pained breaths.​

She didn't know where he was. ​

Her bloody hand grasped her thigh and she pushed herself upright, staggering and swaying with the earth she could barely feel beneath her boots. Why was her skull ringing? What was that sound? Her brows pinched together as she grasped after it, only to gasp in sudden horror as a brilliant flash illuminated the darkness- blinding her temporarily when she dared open her eyes.​

She caught only a glimpse of him. As beaten and bloody as she was, time slowed. Breath hitched in her throat. The dark, bloody strands clinging to his pained, hateful face. His armor- he was an Imperial, not a Sith. Yet, the crackling death he wove towards her offered her no comfort in this revelation. Instinctively, her hands raised, shielding her face as the blazing light flared closer.​

And then, it was all over her. The arcing fury resonated through her limbs, charged the metal she donned for protection and fried the bare flesh of her palms it connected with directly. That smell burned into her nose and she shrieked, the sound agonized and almost feral, resembling a wounded animal trapped in the dark all alone. She couldn't help it. Her legs buckled, spasming beneath her and she crashed to the ground in a tangled heap.​

The darkness turned to light and faded just as quickly.​

That fiery blanket of torment swallowed her whole, thrusting her into a restful slumber. Unconsciousness opened its inviting arms, welcoming her to temporary respite.​

She wouldn't be fighting him anymore.​

 

[Bastard]

Crimson flashed between the pair as Kascalion's mighty saber slammed into the dark blade, interrupting the Albino's strike. Given his inability to equal the Sith Lord's strike, the Imperial Knight braced the weapon against his body, uncaring of the heat that bore through his crumpled pauldron. He had felt a much hotter flame, born of the dark side goddess Vahl, sear his skin and scar his body. In the face of death or pain, the echani would not surrender his life so easily.

"So long as there are Sith to slaughter, I will not falter," Errant sneered at the Sith. "I have known failure, just as I have known pain. What you present is neither defeat nor something to fear. I see but a beast who's sworn their soul over to dark gods in a quest for power that shall always elude you."

At Kascalion's great heave, Errant stumbled back. He quickly twirled the blade's pommel within his hand, completely flipping it about before raising it to meet the heavy-handed slam from the undead horror. It sent Errant several feet back, forcing him to throw his already battered left arm forward to take the brunt of the upward blow. He bit back a scream as his arm spun backward uncomfortably, slamming back against his body, propelled by might that dwarfed the Albino's own. The Devil tore at the earth above them between his assault. Glass fell towards the Knight, slicing through flesh in its passing. Dirt rained down onto his face, blinding him to his foe.

Errant relied on the force to guide him through this peril. He sidestepped the worst of the Sith Lord's follow-up, the crimson saber once more finding his already ruined shoulder, shearing away the black pauldron. The crimson-plasma scorched the tip of his shoulder. He could only push on, twirling away from the second attack towards the Sith Lord's side. As before, Errant used his momentum to propel his weapon about, aimed towards the back of Kascalion's knee.

He retreated away from the Sith at that. The great black blade lifted between them; his pale eyes squeezed shut. "I welcome you to strike me down if you can, beast. You would be the first of your kind to prove themselves my better."

In his state, the Albino could not best this enemy. Not without a grievous mistake on the Sith's part. Errant was too weak from his initial engagement with Immortuous, and it only grew worse each time he and Kascalion crossed blades. The Knight steeled himself, teeth grinding together to fight the pain. If he could not defeat Kascalion, Errant would slow him down long enough for the other Knights to overcome their foes and turn upon the Sith'ari.

Kascalion Giedfield ​

 

[Marcad]

Objective: This is mine
Tags: Mogra'teksa

​

He saw her, and she saw him with the bright, blue light of lightning that illuminated the dark cave. It was a brief moment, both of them beaten and bloodied from their encounter with each other. Her face spelled with horror and terror with the arc of lightning reaching out to her, almost shaped like a hand while Cewr had a look of hate and anger for her after the injuries he suffered from her. The cackling energy of lightning reached her, striking at her metal arm guards as her reflexes opted for the last line of defense. It was useless as she screamed from the pain, the energy manifested from the damnation of the Dark Side surged through her body with the worst of it frying her hands. Her body spasmed from the immense power before her legs gave up, and again fell to the floor of solid rock beneath her. Defeated, but not dead.

Again darkness consumed the pair when the surge of lightning disappeared, the Mirialan smelling the stench of fried flesh and burnt air around him. He breathed heavily, laying still for a few moments on the ground to regain composure and calming his body. His leg still crippled in pain, even the rush of adrenaline couldn't wear that off from his sense. He slowly sat himself up, his hand outstretched and beckoned his lightsaber to return to him with the Force as its hilt landed in his palm and tightly holding it with his bloodied fingers.

"C-captain," he spoke to his commlink, reaching out to the company leader of the Stormtroopers that accompanied him. "Send a squad to my position...hurry."

He desperately needed his tombs to be attended right now.

And so did her.

He made attempts to get up, only to fail as he would always fall back down on his ass. Giving up, he crawled to the laid body of the Twi'lek woman he had defeated minutes ago. The sulfur in his eyes vanished as he reached the fallen mercenary, activating his lightsaber to get a better look at her. Beautiful, like any other woman of her species. Obviously, skilled as she managed to last more than just ten seconds in cave with her. The Dark Jedi could easily kill her right now. Pierce his blade into her or decapitate her head from her body. But he wouldn't. He still held onto the traditions of his people, believing that the almighty cosmic power dictated her fate and destiny to lead to Cewr. Did he truly hate her? No, she fought bravely against him despite the disadvantage she faced. Something to be rewarded. He wouldn't kill, but he would have her indentured to him.

A squad of Stormtroopers came to them, their weapons raised and aimed at the mercenary although they were commanded by the Imperial Knight to cast them aside and instead were ordered to carefully bring the Twi'lek to his shuttle. The others would assist him in walking back to the vessel before attended by the medics. Without his presence on the battlefield the company of Stormtroopers would continue in seizing the mine for the Iron Sun.

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

Armor: X | Lightsaber: X | Right Arm: X
Objective: Fight Someone
Engaging: Bastard

​

The boy's words had conviction behind them as he shuddered and shook from the combat, and it was very clear in his expressions that he truly believed everything he said. His backing up of said words went decently and he defended the onslaught well enough, avoiding the lethal strikes with competent blocks and dodges. It was clear, however, that the pain searing through his arm was agony and severely hampered his ability to truly participate in this fight beyond the defensive. This did admittedly disgruntle the elder Sith as his crimson blade found purchase here and there across the black armor of the Errant Knight, slicing through armor like smooth stone.

The sudden, attempted slash at the back of his knee was perhaps his best chance at wounding the towering titan of muscle in this bout, and it was indeed an efficient strike all things considered. While the top of the blade managed to sink in somewhat into the hardened flesh of the Devil, it did not cut deep enough to truly wound him. If anything, the pain that came from the slash was merely a sting akin to that of an office worker's paper cut. A trickle of bioluminescent blue ran down the calf of his leg, leaving the smallest of droplets on the rocky floor, the only gift the Imperial would have. Still, it was something more than what he had been given thus far in this short, quick duel and the Devil stood back as the boy gave his challenge to cut him down.

What a prospect, was it not? To cut him down and weaken the Imperials once again. Yet, it was at this very moment that Kascalion fully understood the power of this child. Not in the way of skill or the Force, for the Devil was already his better. But, as the bloodlust began to subside, he noted with great clarity that this boy was reminiscent of one he had fought before. How could he not have seen it earlier? How else would this Errant Knight be able to withstand such brutality and still get up to fight? Rurik Fel . The survivor of the Twilight. This had to be his trainee. Or at least one of his more directly trained. A prodigy of the prodigious. Resilient in the face of overwhelming odds. Unbelievable. What a sharp coincidence in this narrative.

Kascalion snorted at the revelation and deactivated his lightsaber, welcoming the darkness of the crowded echoing mines to envelop him again. The light of his eyes of ice shined upon the golden bone of his sockets and radiated with a new, disturbed liking towards the Errant Knight. Although, the weakened combatant would be able to sense that there were no feelings of true mercy being formed in the Devil's heart. There was only the inevitable conclusion of this fight in the blackthorn soul that pumped vigorous evil in his veins, yet...the conclusion could have been difficult to really understand. Especially from one of the Devil's ilk.

Kascalion offered only words and a clacking of teeth for a second or two, hooking his blade to his belt and crossing his muscular arms, steam rising visibly from the red skin. "Proving myself your better would not be a difficult feat, child," he laughed sickly, a chattering sound from the chasmic maw that lived beyond his teeth. "Yet, I believe this fight would not satisfy either of us with your pre-determined end, wouldn't you say? You clashed willingly with Darth Immortuos. And survived. Incredible, to say the least. Yet, you were weakened and doomed the second I came into the story. You would have been doomed regardless. And you know that. You are not foolish like others of your kind. Like the others that have opposed me. I recognize that strength, Errant Knight, to not only know that the end nears but to welcome it as you are now. It shows...gumption of a sort."

He inhaled deeply - an unnecessary action as he did not need to breathe - and uncrossed his arms, letting them hang at his sides as he cocked his head a touch to the right. I respect that," he continued. "However, I am going to grant you the opportunity for a rewrite in this story. A chance to have a better fate. A much more meritorious conclusion to the saga of this Errant Knight. Rest, heal, and train. For days, weeks, months, or even years. Bind the evil in you, or find your way back to your precious balance. I care not. But come to me, and only me, when you are fully prepared. Fight other Sith, learn from your victories and losses against them, but do not dare die. Do all of this, and I will grant you a fight and an end worthy of legends to tell for as long as my years and more. And who knows...perhaps I will even grant you the benefit of a perfect afterlife in the Respite. What say you?"

 

[Arjant Clevenger]

H I E R O P H A N T
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
NYRIAAN
NIV ‘TREGESSAR’

“I can accommodate to those requests, Admiral,” putting out his cigar before standing up and shaking Carlyle’s hand. Enjoyed that the man accepted his invitation. He could only assume the man dealt in immoral and unethical practices in his domain of power, but he wouldn’t judge. He, too, had done things similar to whatever practices the Warlord invested in.

Evil they were, but the necessary kind. Men like them knew what the Galaxy wanted and needed.

Order.

“It’s a pleasure to be able to have this meeting with you, Admiral. I’ll be sure that COMPNOR gives a blind eye to your operations.”

In fact, they already did.

Caarlyle Rausgeber​

 

[Nima Appw'rii]

G e n e s i s _ A c t u a l

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
NYRIAAN
ARUMED

​

<”Say’s you Snake. I think if I knocked on the front door they’ll just let us in. Maybe even let us ride on one of the gurneys, treat us realll nice-”> each word dripped with a healthy amount of sarcasm; the line cut after that. Too much activity would draw attention in the end.

The woman could read in between the lines of the briefing, her lips molded into a frown as they pulled back from the observation and skirted the edges of the outlining buildings away from the growing body count. Her eyes danced across the screen spotting as they began the approach past the outlying buildings, overriding the jammers a second time. Her rifle was slipped back on her back as she followed behind him.

They had roughly an hour and a half of darkness left until first light based on the sector’s planetary rotation. Each movement slowed as they stooped across the open lawns and walkways. The Order had interests here, though she rather put a blaster bolt down on each and every associate and unload her pistols clip. One man was the price of justice..or the sacrifice.

Nima shadowed the man with pistol in hand, hefting up her vambrace beside him firing off her own grappling hook. The compressors kicked out a hiss and she leaned back gauging the taut wire, the weight of her armor strained. She slipped the gun back on her belt and her boot hit the wall, scaling up the durasteel side.

<”Second floor breach? Not a balcony but the scaffolding will give us a good foot-”>

A red marker passed over the HUD as the A.I synched their feed. Nima moved slowly despite the growing strain, the armor’s reflec wouldn’t draw the eye at first glance but she didn’t want them to get ahead of themselves. The overview coming in from the recon droid hovered silently over them as it viewed the windows-crimson warnings flashed as the sensors changed. Across the radar began to populate with life signs, a series of faces generating as the droid continued to pass over the facilities' windows. Nima halted mid crawl.

<"We need to move down, windows lit and it's not our target-">

Djorn Bline​

 

[Bastard]

A break in the clash. Something brief, yes, but a moment was enough for the half-blood to catch his breath. Errant buried his blade into the earth beside him as the Undead Giant spoke. He balled his fists and rubbed at his grime-covered face with red-stained knuckles. The sting of battle weakened him, the pain joined by a burning pain across his crimson gaze. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot. It took everything just to remain on his feet. Slumped forward, one hand wrapped around his blade, the other hung limp, unresponsive. His ruined shoulder proved another barrier between the Imperial and victory.

His lips curled into a cruel smile. Victory? It had long abandoned him. Defeat against the Sith'ari was pre-destined. Immortuous had sapped Errant of his strength. Kascalion merely abused what advantages were presented. Death promised victory of a different kind. Redemption, his sole objective since his release at Bastion. A chance to clear his name of sins committed in the act of uncontrolled lust. The Sith Lord promised an end to Errant's vicious struggle. One the Albino welcomed with open arms.

"I hold no illusions of what will come to pass, Sith," Errant tightened his hold on his blade's hilt and pushed himself up. The Knight would meet his end with his chin held high, defiance burning bright in his stubborn gaze. "I seek something you Sith could never understand. You fat, greedy beasts, gorging yourselves on the galaxy's pain, are no better than carrion crawlers. You scavenge the living and dead to make amends for whatever wronged you all. When I look at you, I see a monster. I see the darkness that threatens to envelop all that makes this galaxy beautiful. I see the darkness, born of sins beyond your control. I see a coward."

He tore his dark weapon from the cavern floor. "I've witnessed what has broken you, Sith. You looked into the darkness, the writhing, ancient evils of Bogan, and you fell victim to its lies. You've whored yourself to your lust, your greed, and your rage. You've long since lost control of the life you live. Much like the people you hate, you are shackled. You are merely a prisoner of a different kind. "

Errant took a step forward. "I see an abomination who fears death. You cower from fate's touch. I walk lovingly into her arms and shall rest my head against her bosom with a smile on my face. Death is not the end. Merely the greatest sacrifice I can make. I will await you in hell, where I will show you true suffering."

His next step carried him closer to Kascailion. The third saw Errant's body blur, the force drawn to his battered form. It enhanced his speed, turning him into a blur nearly invisible to the naked eye. It expanded his senses. The world passed by faster than humanly possible, but he could make out every detail of those around him. Crimson sabers clashed with ardent blades—an intricate dance of black and white, born of generations of silent suffering.

Errant found even his strength growing as he raised his black weapon overhead and swung wildly, aiming to cleave the Sith Lord's skull in two.

Kascalion Giedfield ​

 

[Djorn Bline]

P U N I S H E D _ S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
NYRIAAN
BODYGLOVE
ARUMED

Sarcasm wasn’t an uncommon thing he came across from soldiers, although it was something he hardly partook unless he was familiar and close with the person. Maybe a younger him would’ve commented back with a quip of his own, enjoying the camaraderie. Those days were over, for him although the idea of camaraderie was something he still valued.

Not as nearly as fulfilling the mission.

That’s all that mattered to a soldier: the mission. Something he was always told so.

They didn’t trigger any alarms when they reached the durasteel wall of the large facility that was a giant compared to most of the other buildings in the compound, even some walkways bridged out to whatever buildings neighbored it. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was an underground bunker that hosted some of the most perfidious research conducted here. Both operatives scaled the wall, about crawl to the second level of the building until the recon droid warned Nima of activities happening in that area.

<“Don’t hesitate in killing any of the non-combatant staff here, they won’t hesitate in sounding the alarms on us.”>

<“But yeah, let’s try down and see what we got.”>

Both crawled down to the scaffolding from the level above them, standing on the small platform with windows separating them from the inside. Windows to some private office or conference room as there wasn’t much windows around. It could be a prison compound if it wanted to with how dull and lifeless it was. In fact, it was a prison for the “residents” that were bound to this place. A handheld laser cutter was pulled out from his utility pack, enough power to cut through the window without making a noise. It was either this or an air vent, but they didn’t have the time to crawl in narrow spaces to get where they needed to be. A shape was cut through that was big enough for the two Imperials to enter the room.

<“We need to reach a terminal and see exactly where our target is. You any good at slicing?”>

Nima Appw'rii​

 

[Nima Appw'rii]

G e n e s i s _ A c t u a l

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
NYRIAAN
ARUMED

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The man ran his missions clean, Nima had let several comments slip but he was seemingly made of sterner shavit. It had kept her sanity, but she had come across the lone man or woman who still couldn’t lay their cards down on the table. She wasn’t coming close to psychoanalysing the man. No she didn't require that from the COMPNOR agent. Nima just liked to know who she was really working with. It was simply a division in leadership and tactic.

They were here to do a job, but the silent ruthlessness-she’d save it for the day the Imperator wanted her to scale in to the very Emperor’s quarters and gut him in his sleep. The woman rolled her eyes at the thought, jutting her vambrace out, she recalled the droid as they scaled teetiously across the building side.

<”When it is necessary I will fire my weapon,”> Nima answered plainly, maybe it wasn’t the killing or waste of ammo-but the route of least resistance came to mind. As they situated themselves on the small landing, she secured the scaling equipment.

A office space was ideal and her visor flickered through a series of overlays, scanning through the walls; heat signals were far and few between. Letting the man take over the break in the woman glanced off her shoulder, keeping an eye. The quiet hum of the glass cutters filling the space between them. The woman’s visor rose and fell to the lone jutting walkways before scanning the lower levels. A single patrol moved below, another routine sweeper, though she noted them nonetheless. The delivery was wrapping up as vehicles peeled off, the gates’ faint wail echoing in the distance as the convoy fired up-leaving.

When they had breached, Nima jerked her vambrace-snapping out the droid and catching the small puck. Her helmet swiveled as she surveyed the offices before tossing the droid out and jutting her fingers toward the vents at the corner of the room wordlessly.

<”I can handle that, but we’ll need to hit the meatier part of the facility. Coaster will get us a visual on the next floor.”> the woman said as she made for the frosted doors. Quiet as her gauntlet landed on the door handle-nothing read on the infrared spectrum and she drew her pistol. Stepping out with the blaster drawn, the door swung open silently revealing the sprawling office space. The hum of machines read across the audio receptors and Nima spotted the neon exit signs doors down the hall and she crept forward, there was activity reading on the radar as the A.I began to construct a multi level model of life signatures.

The range wasn’t more then one hundred meters in any direction but it gave them a sphere to work within. As the two Imperials crossed the office space and stationed themselves at the lift the stealth droid’s visual uploaded. The holo feed emerged from a vent in to a fluorescent white hall, the doors of the lift highlighted. A roving hall patrol, a two armed personale traversing down the corridor at this hour and a lab coat passed through-but it highlighted a lift door and a terminal tucked away in the sterile hall.

<”Lift or stairwell?”> Nima offered him the choice, picking through some back offices seemed like a delay but getting caught out in a metal box hanging by a cord..

Djorn Bline ​

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