Invasion Woken Furies | BotM Invasion of NIO held Nirauan

[Sephi Karneh]

NIO PAGE CLAIM

N O V A
TASK FORCE TRACHTA
1st GROUP | 'VANDAL' SQUAD
Equipment listed in char. bio.

"Euphoric."
​

The lone commando kept her weapon trained on the horrific mesh of man and machine, bloodied teeth bared with every hissing breath pressed from her heaving chest. Her lone eye flared, the glossy, bloodshot look of a wounded animal cornered with a leg snapped tightly between the jaws of a vicious trap. Frizzed braids shifted over her shoulder as she stepped to the left slowly, glaring up at the behemoth and what little damage she had managed to deal even with her specialized weapon. Thoughts rushed, her systematic inventory of what weapons and tools she still had left to dispatch an opponent she was so overtly outmatched against. Had her blood all been where it belonged, her armor intact, and her tools still on her person, she could have stood toe to toe with the behemoth. But this day had been an unkind one through and through and though she doubted it could get much worse, some nagging voice in the back of her head insisted otherwise.

'Always save one.'

"What is it you NIO soldiers fight for, exactly, to fight so fearlessly?"

Nova glowered up at him, twisting her chin to spit out a mouthful of blood, a response to the casual toss of his heavy weapon aside. She was reminded of the magcannon still slung across her shoulders. There was no time to set it up and no room to fire it. At this point, it was dead weight against her back. She was perplexed by him, wondering why he would mince words when the war was still waging in full. Whatever the reason for his desires, she would indulge to buy herself time, using it to address the most severe of her problems; her left arm. Reaching up with her right hand, she tore the headband from the crown of her brow and wound it tightly over the batcapatches covering her mangled limb. She cinched it tightly, snarling at the pain, and tied it off to keep it where she had put it.

"You have no faith in paradise. Why die for your government? Indulge my curiosity, and I'll make this quick."

"I don't need some delusion of an afterlife to fight," Nova croaked harshly, her voice run dry and ragged across the rocky shores of her suffering, "the reason why is over there in that crashed ship. I can't defend them now, but if you think I won't avenge them..." Blood-soaked fingers brushed the bare bicep of her left arm, dragging a streaking crimson stain across the tattoo etched into her emerald skin- the company crest of Vandal Squad. The same painted fingers dragged beneath her left eye, smearing through the greased warpaint and the layers of grime, a fresh coat to her resolve. Whatever happened would happen, but if Mongrel thought she would accept his mercy and die quickly, he was mistaken. "Someone has to make The Sith answer for what they did to this galaxy, for what they did to you. If I die, so be it, but keep your fuckin' mercy for someone else, I don't want it."

'C'mon Seph! You have to keep up!'

'HEY! DON'T TOUCH MY BROTHER! GET YOUR HANDS OFF HIM!'

'Out of us all Seph, you're gonna go see the galaxy.'

'Little girl you've got to stop fighting! Your big brothers can handle themselves! You'll get hurt, Sephi!'

The mirialan retrieved the last injector from her medical pouch, though her gaze never faltered from the man whose shadow she occupied. She grunted, her snarl solidifying, as she stabbed the thick needle into the gap between her thigh plates, puncturing the bodyglove to pump combat stimulants into her veins with reckless abandon. 'Sephi! Mom's looking for you! No- she said now!' "For what it's worth," she tossed the empty injector to the ruined street, "I'm sorry for what they did to you- but that doesn't mean I'm gonna show you mercy." She knew if she died here he would press on and face whoever it was of her squadron left. He had seen the flare too. She doubted whoever had shot it was in any condition to fight, not that she was either, but she was still standing- that much she was certain of.

'PICK THAT SH*T UP! YOU WANTED TO BE A SAPPER, YOU BETTER BE ABLE TO CARRY IT! YOU WANT YOUR MEN TO GET BLOWN TO FUCKIN' CONFETTI, SOLDIER!? YOU WANT THE SITH TO THROW YOU A PARTY WITH THE INNARDS OF YOUR COMRADES?!'

If Mongrel got the best of her, she would have to ensure it was mutual.

<"Usual joint in Ravelin once this is all done and over with, ey Nova?">

Sweat trickled down her temple, cutting a path through the mask of grime and blood to drip from her jaw. Her grimace faded. Her battered lips curled upward in defiance of her graven situation, a smile shared toward her opponent in confidence. Six shots was all she had, five to spare him, and one to spare herself. Worst came to it, she'd blind him with the splatter of her brains to spare herself from being turned into another monster like him. Offering nothing more, she ended the stalemate with rapid twitches, leveling and firing her pistol toward the joints of his legs, and swerved aside, brandishing the vibroblade in her right hand.

Four shots left.

She'd taste his blood this day, she'd avenge her brothers in arms this day.

Or she would die trying.


ALLIES | NIO | Kolson Vrask Raus Garrat Aemilio Valaar DECEASED Erskine Barran Ortʹtʹo Mikla Alex Eldar Shai Maji Keilara Kala'myr Bastard @IMMOGS
FOES | BOTM | The Mongrel SCAR Zachariel Steelblood @IMCAELITUS

 

[DECEASED Aron Gowrie]

THIRD POST
THE_TUATH
WILDCAT BATTALION

OBJECTIVE 1: GROUND ZERO

Willan Tal Shai Maji Alex Eldar Sturit Goan Inarin Lsu

BOTM: The Mongrel Zachariel Steelblood Alars Keto
Tor'r Tal'Verda Maestus Khamul Kryze


ARON'S LOADOUT
OFFICER-ISSUE DISRUPTOR PISTOL
VIBROSWORD CAVALRY-SABRE

TUATHA'S WRATH: NEW SWORD, NEW MAN - PART 3

NORTH PELLAEON DISTRICT,
NEW CARANNIA, NIRAUAN (868 ABY)

<"This is Valaar. We are close. Weapons Cache Osk-P7. I've got plans to skirt the edge of the Mawite Host and reclaim their LZs.">​

An idea that sounded wild, but under the circumstances, Alun knew that Aemilio's brand of wild was exactly the stuff of dreams for any sort of effective counterattack to be enacted, knowing his command-partner from Korriban had more than enough mettle in his soul to take them every step of the way. This was the main counterattack, the widest-arcing sweep of the northern battlefront that would be recorded in the 501st's race against Galidraan to the coast, and Captain Reed would entrust it all to the young (though battle-hardened) Lieutenant Valaar, completely fine with that fact - knowing he'd have front-row seats to the battle's best, most-frenetic moments by far. Even though the sinking feeling that the dead had every chance of rising again with Darth Caelitus in play, the Wildcats' Woad-born Captain couldn't help but feel optimistic again, understanding that if they could survive the Hell that was Korriban, their chances of prevailing on Nirauan had decent odds of coming to pass as well.

<"The Lord-General has more than enough men to to hold the lines. We box them in, and they'll have nowhere to run.">​

'He's held wae fewer anyway- perfection, biht!'

<"Copy that, Voidwalker! Meet you at the northeast corner. Wildcat Two out!">​

When everything looked to be clicking into place properly, finally going as according to plan, only then could Commoner-Captain Reed breathe a long, slow sigh of relief as the armoured vehicles around him roared to life. Looking to the darkening, smoky sky above, Alun chuckled with a sort of contented delight, practically over the moon at the fact he'd found purpose again, when it seemed like he was deploying to his last war, his last battle. The Cosmos wasn't done with him yet, and Reed was adamant to prove his worth in the eyes of a God he'd believed had abandoned him long before that moment, eager to show the Galaxy in turn that the Goidels belonged at the very forefront of it's greatest triumphs forevermore. From the Woad-born,"Yung-Teem", street-gangs of Milton city, to the Tuaths' Commoner-Captaincy of Wildcat Battalion, there was no doubt that Alun had ascended far, but from the way things were looking, it appeared to Reed that he still had a little ascension left to endeavour.

When all had made it to Northeast Pellaeon District's city blocks, all facing eastward in anticipation, AFV One eventually passed Valaar on it's way to the front, catching the Captain's eye as he was turning to see if he could find any of Aemilio's higher-ranked subordinates. Pulling open the viewports on the vehicle's right side, Alun roared over the din of the engine,'WE GOOD TO GO, MATE?!?!?!', as the tires eventually ground to a halt. Then, with a wicked smirk akin to those expressed by Woads like Reed, Valaar nodded his assent with what looked like a renewed sense of enthusiasm, prompting the Commoner-Captain to beckon him closer and exclaim,'Gallous, man! Hop in then! We can get the counter going now if we're quick!', closing the viewports and opening the slide-door on the other side as soon as Valaar jumped off the garden-wall to run along the engine-manifold at the back.

The Woad's Command-AFV kicked up dust and gravel after Aemilio shut the slide-door behind him, with the engine roaring an unofficial commencement to the first main counterattack of the battle, careening off beyond the boundaries of Pellaeon District and leading the counterattack into No Man's Land. And like a shot, the rest of the Goidelic/501st contingent sprang forth in pursuit with murderous abandon, seeking glory for the Imperium in it's darkest hour, seeking wicked Mawites to mow down in their ceaseless advance. However, despite the vengeful wrath that coursed through everyone's veins, Gowrie's very own AFV contingent still worked to form into open-wedge formations on the move, and if any opposing scopes were unfortunate to see it, they would find themselves disheartened by the fact the cohesion remained unaffected by the sheer terror of the battle in and of itself.

'We've had pressies lying around in our AFVs - for your lot since Korriban, kept them in the hope someone like IMPMAG would make use o' them someday. Come see.'

'Keeps oor top-turrets attached an' gives the guest an effective spare t'use at the same time. Two-birds, an' every AFV has one noo an'aw. Kept 'em even efter IMPMAG were disbanded like ah said afore, but never once questioned since either.'

TUATHA'S WRATH: NEW SWORD, NEW MAN - PART 4

NORTH PELLAEON DISTRICT,
NEW CARANNIA, NIRAUAN (868 ABY)

'You heard the man. Let's get cozy.'

As the grounded Mandalorians made their way inside, the combination of Tuath riflemen and their newfound support would cover the area and keep their sights trained to the immediate 100metre vicinity around them, allowing the tanks to rearm and cool their barrels with some of their Carbonite reserves in anticipation of the sustained fire they'd be subjected to along the way. There would be a high chance the smoothbores would be in use on the move, increasing the chances of overheating but also increasing their chances of inflicting damage without having to stop the column in order to do so, giving Gowrie all the justification he needed to accept such risks and pre-emptively act against them, as all the alternatives meant certain death for the Goidels. Halting their collective advance would not be an option they would consider this time around, and there would be none there who would convince them otherwise, this was the doctrine they were accustomed to, this was the way they would fight for as long as successes could be found in wholeheartedly adhering to such tried-and-tested armoured-infantry manoeuvres.

'IT'S NOW OR NEVER, MILORD!!!! ALL CATAPHRACTS READY!!!!! WHAT ARE YOUR ORDERS?!?!?!'

Lord Aron knew that the order to advance would be given eventually, though whether he would make forays into the Maw-controlled zones alone or with the full weight of the Free-State was still very much up for debate, a debate that Gowrie was never one for having, one such that he would never be in the mood to engage in.

'Ah, chit.... My impatience is going to be the end o' me, I swear it.', the Kellas muttered to himself through clenched teeth, making his decision right then and there, moments later realizing that the Stormchaser would obviously do the same thing in his shoes. Turning back in the general direction Staff-Sergeant MacDiarmid's voice resonated from, an entirely different mood instantly began to take hold of Lord-Colonel Gowrie as he roared,'WE ADVANCE!!!! TUATHA SALLIES OUT AGAINST THE MAW - RIGHT HERE ON NIRAUAN!!!!', in reply, marking commencement to his own eastward counterattack. Every Guardian fireteam and every tank-crew within earshot jumped to action, prompting everyone else to act upon the actions of their peers from the farther flung flanks of the defensive formation; and yet, as soon as the Thistle pushed off ahead of the others, the entirety of Wildcat Battalion, 16th Company and Feral Battalion followed in unison soon after, despite the sudden nature of the Wildcat-commander's decision.

And thus began the great Race to the Saffia coastline, with Valaar's contingent veering off with a clear head-start, and with the Wildcats doing their best to chase down the lead with the slower, heavier XT-62s in whatever haste they could conjure under the circumstances. Despite this, the two-pronged counterattack was well and truly underway, and with all the explosive encounters they were due to encounter in the process, it looked set to cleave through the Mawsworn units who stood to defy their sudden shock-and-awe surges across the city's northern districts.

'Just when life was ready to throw us into the realm of obscurity, my people get their chance to show how sharp the WIldcats' claws remain despite it all.... Thank you, Dia.'

 

[Lord Letifer]

LETIFER | NEW SITH ORDER
HAND OF THRAWN
KILL Djorn Bline
INFILTRATE The Hand of Thrawn


PEACE IS A LIE​

Scarlet red trickled down the tip of his brandished shikkar. Droplets of that dark hued nectar fell against the flooring of the narrow corridor. A lone hand caught the body that began to slump over covered in plastoid armor, swift feet carried the poor soul away into the shadow as the sounds of the enemy grew near.

The Sith Assassin gave pause only for a moment as he slipped into a maintenance room filled with heavy piping and little space, utilities ran full bore as steam rose up from the pits beneath the grated flooring of the chamber he now stood. Letifer stated in silent contempt, listening intently for the sounds of marching to pass. They were on high alert, actively countering the Mawite offensive. He had to get to the databanks first, before being barred access from their treasured secrets.

He let go. Setting the dead stormtrooper against the hot piping as he slipped out of the maintenance area into the corridor and checked ‘if the coast had indeed been cleared.’ The Sith made his way to the turbo lifts, he knew not where the enemy kept their databases but he knew of the Imperial Archives and data on the original layout of the Hand of Thrawn pulled from the now defunct Sith Empire.

“Sublevels. Which though?” His vocabulator whispered.

That solid black visor flickered back as he heard the sounds of approaching soldiers. No time to lose.

The Sith Assassin entered one of the tube lifts as the flashing symbol halted, the door peeled open and with the click of a button he descended. At first he watched it move floor by floor, it wasn’t until his lift halted on it’s own as he neared the sublevels that he grew suspicious. Igniting his saber, a flash of crimson hissed out into the open. He plunged his blade deep into the ceiling and carved his way through to the top of the turbo lift. With a single mighty leap he let the Force spirit him away.

Clunk!

His boots touched down heavily against the durasteel casing. The Sith’s veiled gaze rose up and over as he stood then stepped foot toward the edge of the shaft below.

Long drop.

His attention snapped to as a lift dropped down, immediately he sprung into action leaping to catch a ride down. He made the leap of faith with a narrow roll as he came down for a landing, nearly coming off the top as it descended with swift movement.

Little did he know as he began to cut into the top that Djorn Bline was lying unawares in wait toward the same location.

 

[Ragnar Bloodfist]

KNIGHT OF THE EMPIRE
IMPERIAL KNIGHT ARMOUR | Dual Lightsabres
Engaging: Darth Tennacus

Ragnar hadn't given the uniformed Sith time to respond verbally.

Good.

His lashed and tortured body, now rippling with muscle and years of combat experience, exploded forwards with the fury of one well versed in the aggressive style of Form VII. Mixed with Form IV's agility and aerial based movements, deep down, Ragnar was glad the Sith correctly anticipated when the downwards strike would come. Throwing themselves out of its path, just for him to land harder than he should've in the space he had been occupying.

Blade rotating up to the side of his body Darth Tennacus lurched to, the first charges of his lightning shot past the length of the saberstaff and into his mortal coil.

Dashed against the armoured plates that adorned him, he could feel their energy currents course through him, seeking an entrance through the gaps and leaving smoking paths carved across his torso. He was shoved backwards, the blue-white lightning a constant stream of white hot energy that he finally managed to catch on the edge of his blade.

The pain was immediate, and powerful, though muted by the fabrication of the smoking iron bulwark upon his body.

The Sith did set him back, though he would not know by how much just yet. He had had many Sith and bested them all. Though they had been quick to meet him in close quarters. This one was different. And it was then that he knew his initial assessment to be true.

With naught but a growl of frustration, Ragnar shifted out of the path of the stream of lightning if the Sith chose to continue expelling it from his appendage. His left hand dropped from the handled shaft of the staff, and it was leveled directly to the Sith. No matter the distance - from the vambrace he took aim, and fired a trio of bolts from the wrist laser implement. A split second later, his corporeal form followed, slashing upwards with the front end of his blade across the midsection. But in its wake, the back end of the blade swept low at his legs.

In his experience, it was often the second blade that did his opponents in. The first, typically a feint, lulling them into a simple block as the second moved to punish a distracted opponent.

 

[Alars Keto]

Allies: The Mongrel

Zachariel Steelblood Alars Keto
Tor'r Tal'Verda Maestus

Khamul Kryze

NIO: Kolson Vrask Raus Garrat Aemilio Valaar DECEASED Erskine Barran Ortʹtʹo Mikla Alex Eldar Shai Maji Keilara Kala'myr Bastard @IMMOGS​

Kryll stood in the confines of the Spider Cruiser surrounded by his allies, members of the illustrious Bloodsworn.

The Drengir Hivemind picked apart at his thoughts, the surface images flooded with depictions of a great harvest and untold suffering. He pounded his head insufferably against the hardened steel within, the wall fixing him little respite and only more pain to handle. No momentary reprieve.

The marauder gritted his teeth and reached for his sheath attached to his hip. There, brandished slowly before his fellow Mawites came a long dagger of unknown origin, a weapon found on the dig on Lao-Mon. This was no ordinary weapon, it had been found amidst the death and decay of an ancient Shi-ido Sith Lord. One so reviled that it brought great pain to the hivemind whenever any of this being’s essence touched upon their wretched grasp.

He cut his index finger, staring with longing for that sudden recoil and screech silent as he drew blood. The Drengir released him, a short reprieve again as he fell back shellshocked and back in action.

“Two minutes till drop!”

Kryll came to, suddenly brought back from the midst of temporary insanity only to realize he was in the middle of a war.

“Bring us in close and drop the bloody thing. Our Heavies can’t drop in without that port open to us.”

Kryll slammed his fist against the durasteel wall, “Where tha’ feth is the karking bombing runs. T-Today.” He wrapped his hands around the nearest handle bar and smiled with a survivor’s grin.

The three surviving spider cruisers launched during this wave soared through the air as Anti Air fire engulfed the sky around them. It was nigh possible to sustain air traffic on such a heavy fortress world, they would have to hope their plan paid off or else. They were already sustaining many losses, something had to give.

“Almost in range you maggots! Get ready to drop it!”

The Spider cruiser prepared to open it’s folded legs where nestled safely laid an impossibly large object unseen before, one made of scavenged parts yet engineered by the most brilliant if not sadistic minds.

Spoiler

Kryll and Co. flying three

Spoiler

MAW Spider Cruisers above city to drop Supersonic M.O.A.B., preparing to drop.

 

[Saaveina]

S A A V E I N A
IMPERIAL KNIGHT
'The Queen of Swords'
Bulwark | Saberstaves | Shield
// Kyrel Ren & Detritus Ren \\
Allies Closeby | Ragnar Bloodfist Djorn Bline Keilara Kala'myr Khroraic

GILDED
​

"Then as one Knight to another, if I have to kill you I will not take any regret in gaining entry into this place be it mine or your death."

"Then so it shall be, dark one, pay the ruby tithe for treason." The Imperial Knight braced herself for his charge, watching the subtle shifts and flexes of his muscles with her wolfish stare. Reflex honed over the ages tugged her backward, opening distance for his landing and the inevitable crash. His flurry fluttered against the air, his dance orchestrated by nothing but his malice. It made him reckless and dangerous, but predictable. A Guardian before, the codru-ji had cut her teeth dueling the likes of reckless Sith, and had grown to become expectant of their turbulence.

The blade she toted disengaged, held tightly with one hand while the other three braced into her shield, absorbing the heavy battery of his assault. She swung her shield forward, obscuring the view from his angle of her movements, all but concealing her chest and below by its expanse. Where he allowed his anguish and rage to drive his strikes, she was as steady as the tide, accepting of the ebb and flow, and patiently waited for an opportunity for reprimand. She thrust her titanic strength against him, muscles torqued beneath her armor aided by technology, bolstering her guard into something nigh impenetrable. Saaveina was the bastion of the Imperial Knights, her position something not to be taken so lightly.

Callously, the Knight lofted her shield with her upper set of hands and swung her foot outward, aiming to collide his diaphragm with a strength backed by armored steel. She combined this blow with a sweeping crash from her shield, a one-two blow dealt to stagger him and thereafter came finality- the snap-hiss of plasmic judgment. One end of her lengthy staff ignited, a speared thrust focused remorselessly for his core.

 

[Noel Strasza]

LORDS OF WAR
THE_IRON_MAIDEN
LORD EXECUTOR
Nephilim | "Doombringer" | Shockgaunts | Sidearm | Grenades
// Tegan Starfall \\

'THE HELLHOUNDS' - 4/6
​

The vital tracker at the edge of her HUD flashed, the Lord Executor focusing briefly on it as two lines drew into plateaus. She twisted abruptly, bolting down the hallway with Delta and Bravo on her heels, and the sight she stumbled upon wrenched her dialed nerves to fray. They had been flanked, Echo and Foxtrot had paid for it. Beneath her helmet, her brow furrowed in tight consideration, wondering how another infiltrator had slipped by her scanner. "Sh*t, Alpha," Bravo spoke toward her, checking the vitals of the two slain marksmen pointlessly, almost mechanically following procedure. He tore the tags from their bodies, stowing them in his pouch as the final declaration to confirm what it was they all knew by sight alone. "They're gone."

"Canvas this floor with Ravenous, fan-out, stick close to one another. Charlie, you're with me. Bravo, Delta, you two together. We'll sweep and clear the floor, force them out into the open, and we'll string 'em from this tower." She spoke low, finally retracting the blade protruding from her arm to seize her scattergun instead. "Make sure your modified rebreathers are fully sealed, it'll still make you sick if you suck it down." The Iron Maiden crossed with Charlie in reverse right on her heels, drawing one of the grenades from her belt to cook in her stride. Delta and Bravo claimed the Ravenous grenades off their comrades' bodies. Once their former nest was clear, Charlie rolled one of the same into the chamber, and within seconds, a thick red mist poured from the grenade, completely fogging the air with the malicious bioweapon.

On the opposite side, Delta and Bravo did the same, fogging up the hallway and the offices on the far side with the midi-chlorian devouring virus, cutting off that route lest any more intruders wished to suffer a fate far worse than death for the Force Sensitive. Strasza eyed the corridor before her, the droid fanning its blades over her shoulder to project scan through the walls and analyze the offices in its search for vital signs. She paused, noting a door was slightly ajar and held up her grenade clutching hand, drawing her partner to a halt against her back.

Charlie busied himself with casing the office opposite, cracking the door and rolling another grenade within, sealing the door tightly after though he remained outside of it in the hallway.

One swift motion saw the cyborg thrust into the office and lob the grenade, steadily filling the cramped space with the insidious cloud. "Dragging your death out won't make you a hero." her voice droned into the toxic air, only the crimson eyes of her helmet visible now that the Ravenous was spewing in full effect. She stalked backward, regrouping with her comrade.

<"Alpha, nothing on this side so far,"> Delta hummed in the commo bedded against her skull, <"Two offices clear.">

<"Keep looking, our guest is here somewhere.">

​

ALLIES | NIO | Rurik Fel Ragnar Bloodfist Khroraic @IMSAAVEINA Djorn Bline Keilara Kala'myr
FOES | BOTM | SITH | Kyrel Ren Detritus Ren

 

[Wilhuff Krieg]

F E R R A T A
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
KNIGHT ADMIRAL
FIRST CRUSADE FLEET 'SWORD OF RETRIBUTION'
CHAPTER 'IRON CRUSADERS'

RAMPAGE
NIRAUAN ORBIT​

Spoiler: Task Force 'Godhand'

TASK FORCE GODHAND
NEW IMPERIAL NAVY
STRATEGIC CRISIS RESPONSE | 28000m
NIRAUAN SYSTEMS FLEET PATROL | 3000m
COMBINED STRENGTH | 31000m

FLAGSHIP
NIV FERRATA | Highlord-class Dreadnought | 100/096 | 10000M

BATTLECRUISERS
NIV ANTARES DRACO | Legate-class Star Destroyer | 100/020 | 5000M

STAR DESTROYERS
NIV VENGEANCE.. | Pellaeon IV-class Star Destroyer | 100/094 | 2000M
NIV PERTURBATOR | Pellaeon IV-class Star Destroyer | 100/086 | 2000M

CRUISERS
LONGBOW I.. | Intercessor-class Star Destroyer | 100/092 | 1000M
LONGBOW II. | Intercessor-class Star Destroyer | 100/100 | 1000M
LONGBOW III | Intercessor-class Star Destroyer | 100/100 | 1000M
ARABLEST I.. | Cuirassier-class Cruiser | 100/100 | 1000M
ARABLEST II. | Cuirassier-class Cruiser | 100/100 | 1000M
ARABLEST III | Cuirassier-class Cruiser | 100/100 | 1000M

FRIGATES
COURIER I. | Vanto-class Escort Carrier | 100/100 | 500M
COURIER II | Vanto-class Escort Carrier | 100/100 | 500M
BILLHOOK I.. | Escolta-class Frigate | 100/100 | 500M
BILLHOOK II. | Escolta-class Frigate | 100/100 | 500M
BILLHOOK III | Escolta-class Frigate | 100/100 | 500M
BILLHOOK IV. | Escolta-class Frigate | 100/100 | 500M


CORVETTES
Vandal-class Corvettes | Several
Gurkha-class Corvettes | Several

STARFIGHTERS
Type | Fleet Distribution

Screen
TIE/OTx Outlander Space Superiority Fighters | 40%

Pursuit
TIE/INx Interceptor Starfighters | 15%
TIE/Vx Vanguard Defender All-Purpose Starfighters | 5%

Strike
TIE/GA Mauler Ground Attack Heavy Starfighters | 10%
TIE/HF Slasher Heavy Fighters | 5%
TIE/HB Heavy Bombers | 5%
Petard-class Droid Starfighters | 20%

NIRAUAN SYSTEMS FLEET

STAR DESTROYERS
NIV ASTARTES.....| Tyrannus-class Star Destroyer | 056/018 | 2000M

FRIGATES
NIV RAPIER I...| Mantero-class Missile Frigate | 074/012 | 500M
NIV RAPIER II..| Mantero-class Missile Frigate | 048/009 | 500M
​

Bold as it was, the Starbreaker hardly inflicted the grave damage hopeful of the emergence of the NIV Ferrata. There was no concealing the full power of his fleet now. As the old adage went 'Man can do little wrong by bringing his ships toward the enemy'. There were still fourteen rounds left in the Starbreaker but even still- the entirety of his force had to be used to their potential if the Empire was truly going to wrench victory here in these dogged hours.

He dealt with an enemy that far contrasted the prideful admiralty of the Sith Empire. From the heights of their nigh Galactic dominance to the fall of their Empire, they had a heightened pride in their traditions and doctrines. No Navy in the Galaxy could best them- they thought, lingering in their realm of delusion.

His enemy was cut from a different cloth. Risen in the pits, fighting and clawing for a chance at life- he was not the usual academy graduate or proud aristocrat one might expect at the command bridge of several kilometers of military might before him. Once more, Krieg could not merely disregard the Maw as the pirates and marauders they might have seemed to be. They brought to the Unknown Regions to its knees in fiery subjugation- he had to respect his opponent not only by their sheer numbers and projection of power, but by their ability in the field. Just as the Empire did, they rose from nothing in the shadow of a greater foe. Krieg could not merely rely on Imperial experience and numbers to win the day. He had to methodically break down the opponent's tactics.

The tactics, as they always were- were simple. Krieg presented the Draco and a paltry escort, the Maw sought to throw spears and skirmish at range. Krieg bit back with the Starbreaker and managed to draw first blood. However, the Antares Draco continued to bleed itself and like a shark in the murky waters, the Maw followed its scent to a kill. But instead of a few skirmishing frigates, the Draco was one of the prideful vessels of the First Crusade Fleet. One of the first from the jump in any engagement Rurik Fel embarked unto, the vessel having once been his very flagship during the Third Imperial Civil War. To sacrifice it here would be an affront to the Navy, to the legacy of the fleet.

But that could all be remedied in victory. But even, the old adage stuck in this moment. They sought to bring down the Draco and threat assess from there, picking it out as the primary target before moving down the list. What Krieg had to do was make the Maw feel ill at confidence in its threat assessment. He had to present multiple options before the enemy, too many priorities to focus down solely on one.

As much of a goliath as the Antares Draco was...it was not the Ferrata.

"Thrusters to full, bring us forward. They wish to isolate and sink the Draco. Their plan is clear. They will knock it out and then our destroyers are next and the Ferrata will be left unsupported. Thus- with their focus brought directly unto the Draco, we must make the Ferrata far too great of a force to be reckoned with. Bring us to its port side, full throttle." He commanded the way of the Ensign who relayed the command across the bridge. The Ferrata, if it could outclass any other vessel of its class, was in speed. Nigh every Star Dreadnought was able to tangle with its counterpart, but few could match the speed the Ferrata. It was meant to close the gap, to get in the thick of the battle with the enemy, stir chaos and discomfort in its formation.

Joined by its smaller vessels, Krieg all but moved the line forward- to fill the gaps of the Antares in isolation in the hopes of stirring the target and threat priority of the enemy. It could not merely target down and draw blood from each ship alone, they'd gotten too bold and reached too far. The Ferrata would draw blood once more.

"Reload the Starbreaker. We'll assess the threat once we're aligned with the Draco. But we must relieve it from taking this punishment. It is a formidable vessel, but it will only handle so much punishment. Screen out fighters to play goalkeeper over the Draco, ward off their bombers from overtaking it...all the while..." He pondered the next command for a moment before inputting a variable into the holomap ahead of him.

"Ping their battlecruisers for Nova Flare missions. Center priority on this one." Aeon's End. An arbitrary choice, but accompanying the chaos Krieg hoped the create, the Maw had to hemorrhage and bleed from several wounds at once for his aggressive strategy to reap its full spoils. With its ping, the TIE launch racks flourished out in rapid succession, releasing the Draco's load of fighters into the open space to join the battle.

In a cloak of chaos, the Dagger of Imperial steel would be drawn into the starfield and thrust into the heart of the enemy.

D A G G E R - O N E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
181st STARFIGHTER GROUP
HAMMER SQUADRON
TARGET // AEON'S END
TIE/HF Slasher | Flight Suit

STAR FIGHTER
​

A flash of guide lights filled my vision before the opal, atmospheric sheen of Nirauan flashed before me. It was an entrancing view until I narrowed my eyes and saw the fires and smoke of the sprawling city scape beneath. My mission ripped itself to the forefront of my mind again. Years of training and hard-drilled instinct took over my actions as I reigned in control of the TIE Slasher at my command. It was a unique ship in its task and ability. It had as much firepower as many of the capital ship turrets mounted unto the vessel we emerged from, even if it sacrificed speed and maneuverability in the spare moments we ever had to fire the turbolasers.

It was a craft more dangerous than most to wield in large-scale naval warfare. That, I think, is what I loved the most about it. The thrill, the risk, knowing the enemy sights were on me as soon as we left the launch bays, knowing that if they didn't knock me out- they risked losing far, far more than they were ever worth.

<"Dagger Squadron! File in!"> I caught myself barking the order. It was adrenaline, enthusiasm. Surely the boys would understand. They knew the task ahead of them being that the mission was already tapped into our consoles and targeting computers. 'Praetorian-class Battlecruiser' and the incomplete profile that Naval Intelligence could assemble about the ship appeared on our comps. It was a KDY wedge, not too far off from the vessels we practiced maneuvers on in open space. After all, the Sith Imps and the New Imps used the same flavor. To be facing these supposed 'Chaotic Marauders' only to find the same damn space wedges before us was a twist of irony I could only conceal a chuckle to myself at in a moment so desperate.

<"We're linking up with Raider Squadron, Intercepts. They'll be guide to the battlecruiser. Another Slasher and a Bruiser squadron with escort will be joining us. This is a hell of a lot like a lot of the boats we've sunk before so let's not try anything off the books. Dip in below the shields, set your crosshairs right under the bridge and tap every red button you got. Let's get on the move, Daggers. Split up into pairs with INXes to match and shift power to shields and engines. For the Empire!"> I said through the comms as I translated my own words into actions.

It was time to burn.


TLDR
Fleet moves up to defend the Draco, Ferrata is able to position itself parallel with it as other ships fall in.
Ferrata reloads another round, hasn't selected a target yet.
Krieg targets the Praetorian-class Battlecruiser 'Aeon's End' for a Nova Flare operation.

ORDER
Fiolette Fortan | Scourge Harz | Culas Vile

CHAOS
Tu'teggacha | Isabella Pavan​

 

[Keilara Kala'myr]

Ziare Dyarron
COMPNOR (ISB) Junior Agent, Nite agent​

Objective II: Hand of Thrawn
Location: Hand of Thrawn, Nirauana
Equipment: FS-18-UP2 Omega Phase Assault Rifle | 2x PV-16 "Sunfury" Pulse Pistol | Druetium Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger || Stealth field generator || OPBC-01m
Allies: Ragnar Bloodfist | Djorn Bline | Khroraic | Saaveina | Noel Strasza | Rurik Fel
Enemies: Tegan Starfall | Darth Solipsis | Kyrel Ren | Detritus Ren | Darth Mori | Lord Letifer

[ Planet Hell ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~"Telepathic" communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

In this situation, I did not have the opportunity to search the dead to learn more about them. However, the soldiers were prepared because the two had already poured them down with burning material and set them on fire. Good! It is reassuring that at least these will not be undead. For one thing, I was sure I wasn’t going to watch a horror halo movie with zombies after that. But there was also a chance that I wouldn’t watch any horror movies. They locked the door behind me, but I heard shots from inside and even an explosion.

"Feth!" I said as I jumped due to the fright.

"Yeah!" one of the soldiers replied. "Come on, agent, the commander wants to talk to you!"

"Yes, sir!" I answered to her.

I even saluted and walked after her. We were just inside a building on a normal corridor, no windows, yet I was still looking at where there might be enemies. She didn't seem really worried that we might be attacked here. Even so, I couldn’t stay calm. The training taught us to always remain vigilant.

We went to one of the turbolifts and took us down to the underground levels. There were more corridors here, until we stopped in front of an office door. The noise of the battle was no longer heard here. The soldier signalled me to take off my helmet. She knocked, then the door opened and he motioned for me to go inside. For some reason I really didn’t like the situation, but I walked into the office. I had no other choice.

The office was completely average and standard, nothing special. The commander was a man with gray hair behind his desk, his back to me. He looked at the bookshelf behind the table. He didn’t turn back when I entered, he didn’t look at me, he didn’t speak. From his height and physique, I had no idea who he might be. Finally he spoke.

"Lady Keilara Kala'myr, baroness! Please take a seat! We need to talk to each other about a lot of things." he said.

I looked at his back in astonishment, it was encrypted data from COMPNOR! He couldn't have known who I was. It couldn't be! For the time being, I was unable to move, just looking at his back. Who the hell was this man?!

 

[Tu'teggacha]

​

Location: Nirauan, High Orbit
Allies: Isabella Pavan
Foes: Wilhuff Krieg | Fiolette Fortan | Culas Vile | Scourge Harz | Albrecht F. Herlock

Spoiler: TL;DR

• Tu'teggacha requests Isabella Pavan 's help against Fiolette Fortan
• The Fatalis and Praetorians fire their main guns at the Ferrata
  • Their ion cannons continue to target the Draco
• The Wrathborn accelerates to ram the Draco and prepares boarding parties
• The other Crucifixes target the Vengeance and the Perturbator with all guns
• The Samaels fall back from gauntlet positions, still firing on the Draco
  • One Samael is destroyed by Albrecht F. Herlock
  • Others are damaged
• A huge screen of Darkshear-class Swarm Fighters engages Dagger Squadron
  • They are weak but numerous, blocking fire with their hulls and ramming starfighters

Spoiler: Strike Force Gehinnom (31,000m)

Fatalis, a Fatalis-class Star Dreadnought (10,000m)	Firing Big Guns on the Ferrata, Ion Fire on the Draco
Aeon's End, a Praetorian-class Star Destroyer (3,000m)	Firing Big Guns on the Ferrata, Ion Fire on the Draco
Nightmare Eternal, a Praetorian-class Star Destroyer (3,000m)	Firing Big Guns on the Ferrata, Ion Fire on the Draco
Forge of Laments, a Praetorian-class Star Destroyer (3,000m)	Firing Big Guns on the Ferrata, Ion Fire on the Draco
Wrathborn, a Crucifix I-class Star Destroyer (1,800m)	Ramming the Draco, Preparing Boarders
Oblivion Herald, a Crucifix I-class Star Destroyer (1,800m)	Firing All Guns on the Vengeance
Mournfang, a Crucifix I-class Star Destroyer (1,800m)	Firing All Guns on the Vengeance
Soulbreaker, a Crucifix I-class Star Destroyer (1,800m)	Firing All Guns on the Perturbator
Nine Samael-class Frigates (398m)	Retreating to Capital Line, Ion Fire on the Draco
Three Samael-class Frigates (398m)	Destroyed

There was nothing the Taskmaster could do but watch helplessly as Task Force Kingsman took control of Nirauan's airspace, granting the fortress world another considerable defensive advantage. Reports from the surface were not good; the initial Mawite pushes had been efficiently countered by NIO ground forces, slowing them to a crawl, and neither of the crash-landing's main objectives had been fully achieved. The ongoing bombing runs by enemy TIEs and corvettes would only make things harder on the tribes far below. With the Brotherhood fleet held at bay up here, those marauders were truly on their own.

This was the trouble with fighting all of the galaxy's great powers at once was that being spread thin was inevitable... especially given the fractious nature of the Maw, a loosely-welded alliance of dark powers with barely-compatible goals. Grand Overseer Sularen, for example, was obsessed with vengeance on the Galactic Alliance, and cared comparatively little about the war against the NIO; consequently, while he was willing to contribute significant forces to the invasion of Jedha, he and his troops were conspicuously absent from the assault on Nirauan. It fell to the marauder hordes to push on without their support, carrying the assault alone.

It also meant that, as seemingly always, Tu'teggacha and his fleet were desperately outnumbered. If Task Force Kingsman had not been committed to the air war, it could surely have joined the orbital battle and rapidly crushed the overwhelmed Brotherhood forces. As it was, Task Force Godhand and its auxiliary support might be more than enough for them, given the demonstrated technological advancement of those powerful Imperial ships. And even if the Taskmaster could scatter them, out-strategizing and outmaneuvering his foes, he was bound to take serious losses in the process... enough losses that he couldn't possibly take on Kingsman.

But his fleet was interdicted, and the ground forces were committed. No turning back.

It was a relief when the Knighthammer arrived in the system, leading the Final Dawn contingent; Sularen might not be interested in this battle, but High Regent Tirall evidently still recognized the importance of the Mawite assault on Nirauan. The Taskmaster immediately opened an encrypted channel and hailed the newly-arrived command ship. "High Admiral Pavan," he burbled, his voice like a wet mop dropped into a giant blender, "you arrival is timely. We have engaged the first NIO task force in high orbit, but a second task force has moved into low orbit, and is providing close support to the enemy ground forces. They must be stopped."

Hopefully the High Admiral would be able to push back Task Force Kingsman.

That greeting took up all the time Tu'teggacha had to spare, for the battle would not wait for pleasantries. Sensors indicated that the shields of the Antares Draco were steadily failing, just as planned... but only a fool would have thought that the NIO would not swiftly respond to this clear and present danger. When the assault on the Draco had begun, it had represented the tip of the spear, or perhaps the bulge in the NIO line. But it now seemed that it had been more like the strong hand of a mountain climber, seizing a handhold and then dragging the rest of his body up. The Draco did not fall back under the heavy assault. Instead, the rest of the line moved up.

Leading that move, the proud head of the figurative climber, was the Ferrata, gallantly rushing in like a fairytale knight to rescue the besieged Draco. The intent was clear: to place a massive threat right in front of the Mawite fleet, preventing them from so easily focusing down a single target. "Taskmaster, sensors readings indicate that the enemy seismic cannon is reloading," reported a member of the bridge crew. Tu'teggacha never bothered to learn their names; they were irrelevant to him, except as vehicles for information and drones to execute his orders. So the Starbreaker was reloading... they must intend to fire the huge weapon point-blank.

"We cannot allow them to continue thinning our escorts," the Taskmaster burbled in reply. His glassy black eyes flicked across tactical readouts, watching as the NIO ships shifted strategies; they had begun to concentrate fire on the Aeon's End, their starfighters preparing what would no doubt be a devastating bombing run. Four issues now vied for the Ebruchi's attention: the weakened Draco, the charging guns of the Ferrata, the impending attack on the Aeon's End, and the Le Valeureux closing in and opening fire on the escort frigates. But such was space combat, or perhaps combat in general. The chaos of it was an unavoidable element.

Commanders who could not multitask were doomed to be overwhelmed.

"All Praetorian-class vessels, switch targets; fire your capital-class guns on the Ferrata. We must drive it back." If they failed to bloody the enemy flagship, if they allowed it to rush their lines uncontested, the advanced Super Star Destroyer would surely rip them all apart with impunity. The three Praetorians and the Fatalis, their most formidable guns fully charged but no longer targeted at the Draco, opened fire. MegaCaliber turbolasers and orbital autocannons drew massive, scintillating lines of green and red across the blackness of space, aimed directly at the Ferrata at close range. Mass driver rounds streaked across space in their wake.

The benefit of turreted ion cannons was that those could keep firing on the Draco.

"Wrathborn, your time for glory has come. Accelerate to ramming speed, and target the Draco. If you survive the impact, prepare for boarding. Bring down that ship, and earn your entry into the Galaxy To Come." All four Crucifix Is had been charging their sublight engines already, and now the Wrathborn fired them at full power. It streaked across space toward the larger Antares Draco, its reinforced ramming prow leading like the swinging sledgehammer of a demolition worker. It would aim to impact the Draco from the side, splitting the edge of the wedge, or at least piercing into it. Inside, Kitiakira Warbands armed themselves and rushed for the boarding pods.

"Pull back all Samael-class frigates to the capital ship line," the Taskmaster ordered, watching with concerned distaste as another Samael was destroyed by the targeted barrage of Albrecht F. Herlock 's Le Valeureux. The rest of the frigates kept firing on the Draco as they pulled back, trying to further clear the way for the Wrathborn's impact. More than the bulky, wedge-shaped Praetorians provided by the Final Dawn's shipyards, the ramming-focused Crucifixes and piratical Samaels were true Mawite craft, and they synergized well. Perhaps their unconventional attacks would disrupt the NIO's well-disciplined front.

"All other Crucifixes, engage the enemy escorts." Though he would have liked to use the smaller Star Destroyers to defend the Aeon's End from the incoming fighter attack, it would have been a poor tactical decision; the weaponry on the Crucifixes was meant to punch up, not down, and the nimble NIO starfighters would be unlikely to be substantially thinned by their attacks. That left only one option against the NIO squadrons. "Create a Darkshear screen. We will force the enemy to run the gauntlet of the swarm." Countless expendable Darkshears moved to block Dagger Squadron's onslaught, gladly sacrificing a dozen to claim a single enemy fighter.

"All ships, brace for another seismic shot." There was no easy counter to that.

 

[Zachariel Steelblood]

Objective: Kill, Maim, Burn!
Allies: The Mongrel | Halketh | Maestus | Khamul Kryze | Alars Keto
Enemies: DECEASED Erskine Barran | Aurelian Sigismund | Willan Tal | Shai Maji | DECEASED Aron Gowrie
Fighting/Interacting: Yes
Links: Weapons | Ships | Chosen

(above image will be changed later, to showcase the below flanking attack)

Maw Flanking Attack​

The half of Zachariels forces splitting off to the West, Southwest, moved quickly. Time was of the essence, the longer it took to get to the spaceport, the more forces they'd lose and the greater Zachariel's ire would grow. Not only that, but their glory in the Avatars eyes would diminish. Thus they continued on, running through the streets, out of the worst artillery fire for now. Moving South now, heading towards the spaceport and around the forces of Aurelian, they were greeted with open ground at first, prompting greater speed.

Just as quickly they came into contact with other forces however, bumping into the NIO counterattack from the West, and seeing more forces closing in from the South. Howls of rage echoed from the forces, with curses coming from the lips of the Chosen leading this flanking maneuver. They were out played, their forces split in half, and outnumbered. Cries go out and orders are shouted. Either they break through the enemy or they die trying. Howls answer these orders, vows to the Avatars, even as they once more rush forward.

Part of the force is engaging the counterattack, entering melee combat and jumping to the killing fields. This half is shouting to the Avatars, swearing oaths of blood as they fall upon the enemy and are fallen upon in turn. It's chaos and pandamonium, buildings are used, grenades thrown, and general chaos reigns. At their front are various officers of the Bloodsworn, leading and directing the chaos. They know it's but a holding action, but they shall hold as long as possible.

The other half of the force continue on, towards the Southern forces. The lieutenants there see the Death Troopers approaching, and the few Chosen there lead in turn. On they rush, blasters firing as they grow closer. But, even as they near, artillery fire from the Scar Hounds arrives and peppers the land. The numbers of missiles are unclear, but what few do come through are enough for the Bloodsworn to rush into the gaps. Howling praises and thanks to the Avatars, they set upon the foe, not daring to let their momentum stop. It's a hellish journey, through fire and flame, but they carry on.

The spaceport grows ever nearer...

Main Push​

Elsewhere the Bloodsworn continue on, slowly and under fire. This is the half of the force that remained on the main path, heading towards Aurelians forces and his tanks. Heavy weapons had been shifted forward, and now a handful of rockets were launched towards the tanks of the defenders, or towards the defensive lines. Here too, chaos reigned, merely directed towards the lines of Aurelian. Their only hope for survival was the other half making it through and getting them vehicles of their own.

All around, war raged. Blaster fire echoed loud and clear, screams were everywhere, and the Bloodsworn continued on. Many of these buildings still had residents, often they put up a fight, but the Bloodsworn simply rushed through them. Many of the fools were taken prisoner, to be used as meat shields, others would be tortured given time, but most would simply be killed. All across the streets, the marauders of the Brotherhood came, uncaring of losses and only seeking glory. Through artillery shells and heavy fire, they ran, driven forward by leaders who knew the price of failure.

Over comms came the cries of the flanking force, informing the leaders of the main half that they were being pushed upon. Things were grim, but at least the closer they got to enemy lines, the less artillery fire there was. As such, they continued forward, firing as they went. Scores of them were cut down, providing cover for those that followed, but also a vista of death. Still they moved forward, aiming to bog down the foe in blaster fire and flame, their own cries echoing out, but weaker than usual.

Imperator vs Warlord​

Standing in no particular order, the Chosen with heavy weaponry simply maintained their fire upon Aurelian and his guard. Their fire was wild, semi accurate, but more than made up for it with sheer fire power. Would it penetrate the shield? Probably not, but it would give their opponents a target to fire back at. In turn, the fire leveled at them simply struck armor and deflected off. Their armor was heavy and designed to take punishment. Essentially, they were the Scav Kings of the Bloodsworn, but far more uniform than their counterparts, and far more skilled.

This uniformity came from their copying of Zachariel's own armor. They wished to emulate his horrific armor, and did so well. Thus, the Chosen continued firing, covering their more melee oriented brethren. Said brothers in arms continued forward, not a mad dash as the marauders, but an unrelenting march to victory. Of them, those with heavy slab shields were to the front, but there were only two of them. The rest bore hammers, axes, and other similar weapons. Their number had only been cut down by one, a lucky shot managing to find a weak point in the Chosen's armor, dropping him but not killing him.

For several more meters the advance continued, until they reached one another. In the final three meters, they burst forward and slammed into the legionnaires, attacking them with oaths to their Lord on their lips. As for him, his gaze never left Aurelian, or at least that was the appearance of his skull helm gazing towards the man. As their bodyguard clashed before and around them, Zachariel spoke.
"Come, show me what passes for fury amongst your rotten kind!"

Still only holding his axe, Zachariel launched himself forward to meet Aurelian, axe swinging as he laughed. He struck in no pattern or known combat form, instead a style all his own. And all the while, his bloodthirsty laugh echoed across the rooftops as he went to clash with Aurelian.

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Location: City Streets near the Hand of Thrawn
Objective: 2
Allies: BOTM/ Detritus Ren
Enemies: Khroraic Imp Knights/NIO
Equipment: Kyrel's Armor, Kyrel's Necrochasis, Vader's Bane lightsaber


The ruined stone beneath Kyrel's feet only shifted as the Force lock between both the dark man and the dwarf only intensified. bolts of lightning breaking away from the lock and hitting speeders or nearby windows. It was clear in this duel of the Force that Kyrel through sheer experience and raw power alone would be able to outlast the pint sized Knight, while from Kyrel's enhanced dead vision he could only see that his enemy would not last for too long. If all that Kyrel had to do was outlast him in this fight, then it would simply be an easy task in disposing him. With his saber sent towards him it would be a dilemma for his enemy to react.

Just as he thought he would, the knight had broken the lock between them with Kyrel absorbing all the energy from the electric judgement into his own body. No words came from behind the death mask on his face. On the other hand the dwarf seemed to be praying, as what Kyrel thought of as pathetic. Of all the Knights to face, Kyrel had to face an adept who despite knowing much knowledge was to the elder Ren nothing more than a novice. Someone hardly worth wasting his time with in the long life of battles he had waged.

With all those things being said, his free hand proceeded to catch the saber that was sent back towards him. With his weapon now within his grasp once more, he kept it downwards only wishing to humor the Knight. Waiting to seeing what would happen, he only stood as a statue waiting for him to make his next move and what damage the being was wanting to inflict upon the undead, while his horde only continued to express unending hunger in the background.

Kyrel didn't stop the Knight as he came forth and tried to attack him with what looked to be a saber, but in an axe form. Kyrel didn't even make any motion to defend himself as the first blow caused sparks to emerge from the armor. His armor able to withstand a saber attack to a certain degree, and watched as he tried again. The next blow this time had managed to cause an opening into his armor even cleaving into his flesh, but the axe would find itself getting stuck into the muscular flesh, as black liquid started to pour out causing an acid like effect as it dripped to the ground melting what little stone there was against inorganic material.

He only looked upon the Knight, his head turning sideways in a creepy way before letting out an eerie laugh. "Hahahahahahahhahaha" Before the dwarf could even react, Kyrel as if unphased by the blade in his chest, or didn't seem to care as he started to let his fists do the talking. His saber hooked back into his belt while his fists collided with the dwarf's face in very heavy power strikes, before picking up the dwarf and like the barbarian he was barrel tossed him through a shop window letting him crash inside. His hands slowly pulling the Lightaxe out of him, causing more spurts of black fluid to come out of the gaping wound within him.

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Nirauan, New Carannia
Allies: Zachariel Steelblood | Halketh | SCAR | Maestus | Khamul Kryze | Alars Keto
Foes: DECEASED Erskine Barran | Kolson Vrask | Ortʹtʹo Mikla | Aemilio Valaar | Alric Árheim | Sephi Karneh
Nukth Kelga'an | Mogra'teksa | Aurelian Sigismund | Willan Tal | Sturit Goan | DK-03
Raus Garrat | DECEASED Aron Gowrie | Bastard | Inarin Lsu | Shai Maji | Alex Eldar | Alora Vizsla
Knight | Rika Hiro | Dante Corvus | Fiolette Fortan | Julian Qar

Spoiler: TL;DR

• The Mongrel banters with Sephi
  • She shoots him through the knee before he can grab her
  • He retaliates with a flamethrower concealed in his cybernetic arm
• NIO walkers force the Scav Kings to reposition
• NIO bombers disrupt the street artillery and kill many Mawites

Years ago now, before the Shi'ido revolt and the subsequent brutal cleansing, The Mongrel had trained with his warriors by hunting deadly predators in the jungles of Lao-mon. They had contended with groves of man-eating trees, swarms of gliding spiders, patches of acidic fungus, and mantis-like Branchlurkers that could rip apart entire hunting parties in the blink of an eye... but what he remembered most at that moment were the Gore Wasps, still sometimes used as mounts for those Mawite champions brave enough to master them.

Most Gore Wasps were simple drones, single-minded in their pursuit of food and nesting materials, determined to devour anything that crossed their path - animal, vegetable, or mineral - to regurgitate as mortar for their gruesome nests. Nothing, it seemed, could dissuade them from that instinct. When a hunter dealt one a mortal wound, slipping a vibro-spear past its chitinous armor and into the soft flesh of its belly, the giant insect would often keep thrashing and fighting for several minutes. It was too stubborn to admit that it was dead.

Sephi Karneh reminded him of those wasps.

The NIO soldier was finished; it was plain to see. She spat up blood and pawed at bandages, as though she could somehow return her ravaged body to combat effectiveness just by going through the motions of first aid far too basic to fix the beating she'd taken. It was an odd blend of admirable and pitiful. She gave him some line about defending and avenging other, equally expendable soldiers, tiny little lives on one tiny little planet, barely even worthy of being called pawns in this galaxy-spanning war. It was all just disappointing, really.

She fought and bled and died not for anything that mattered, but because she simply couldn't see the big picture. How sad.

She told The Mongrel to keep his mercy. He laughed, and the deep, grinding sound resembled that of a rockslide crushing a durasteel shipping container. "Very well. But you will regret that decision. Your end could have been far less painful." He tromped forward, his massive stride quickly closing the distance between them. She was injecting herself with some kind of stimm, a last, desperate effort to prop herself up long enough to participate in this inevitably one-sided fight. Yes, too stubborn to admit she was dead. Too stubborn by half.

But her next words gave the warlord pause. He tilted his head, regarding her curiously as she spoke. She was sorry? For him? He chuckled again... though perhaps there was a bit of regret buried deep in the thunderous sound, some part of the person he had once been. "You sound like a Jedi, little trooper," he replied, leaning forward to regard her from high above. "What they did to me was to make me strong, to end my life as a victim and grant me rebirth as a predator. If only you had been so fortunate, hm? A shame."

The Mongrel reached out with one titanic hand, aiming to grasp the soldier around the middle and squeeze her until she popped. "I will spare you my mercy," he told her, "if you will spare me your pity. Neither, it seems, is warranted."

But like the wounded Gore Wasp, still striking with its barbed stinger even as its guts spilled out, Sephi was not yet finished fighting. Before he could grab her, she raised her sidearm and fired again, putting a shot through his mechanized leg. He did not feel any pain as the powerful bolt ripped into the mechanisms of his left knee, just a dull impact, but the whine of internal sensors told him that there had been substantial damage. That little pistol of hers was quite a weapon! In the old days he would have yearned to take it as a trophy.

Now it would be pointless. His hands were too big to work it.

The Mongrel's left leg buckled beneath him, spilling him to one knee - and leaving his grotesque face, partly bolted metal and partly stitched synthflesh, at roughly Sephi's head height. The molten hole in the joint was certainly going to impact his mobility, and it would be difficult to repair on the battlefield. He grimaced, his "skin" pulling tight across the durasteel armature beneath, distending horrifically. Oh, but now she had earned his ire! Enough toying with the little schutta. She still had teeth, and he still had a battle to win.

"Yes," he hissed, "no mercy." Raising one of his titanic arms, he triggered an internal switch that revealed one of the many weapon attachments hidden inside his limbs. A glossy nozzle emerged from his wrist, the same one he'd been extending to grab Sephi... and when he clenched his fist, a jet of fire shot out of it, the heat and light of it rapidly filling the alleyway. The flamethrower was a particularly brutal weapon, one he particularly enjoyed employing against light infantry formations. And since his foe had exposed hair and skin...

Oh, how would savor her dying screams.

--------------------------------
​

Elsewhere in the Saffia District, the wider battle raged on. On North 73rd Street, the Scav Kings held the line as the NIO commandos circled around them, their squad shield protecting them while they tried to employ grenades to keep their foes back. But heavier support, it seemed, was already on the way... the kind of support that even the Scar Hounds' elite heavy infantry could not counter. Knight's AT-RT and the accompanying AT-AT were on the move, and the Brotherhood heavies would be needed to withstand them.

"Incoming Imperial walkers!" came the report over Brotherhood comms. "They're moving up 26th Street!" The Scav Kings looked at one another; this was bad news, and far more important than the minor siege occurring on 73rd street, where they had already been able to do some damage to their foes. "Fall back and reposition!" one ordered over the comlink, and the three of them sprinted down a side alley and through a broken building, laying down covering fire in their wake. They'd need to link up with the other Mawites and rally them.

For now, North 73rd was back under NIO control.

Things across the rest of the city weren't much better for the Mawites, for the enemy artillery had been joined by intensified air support. Task Force Kingsman's bombers and corvettes streaked across the skies, strafing and bombarding with impunity. This was urban warfare at its most brutal. With New Carannia already mostly leveled, largely by the NIO's own munitions, it fell to the Brotherhood's ground forces to take cover in cratered streets and shattered buildings, the ruins of the lives that had been lived beneath the Iron Sun banner just that morning.

The LuchsHai technicals could outrun infantry formations, but not the fighter wings attacking from above. Drivers frantically dodged and weaved as bombs fell all around them, and their skill mattered far less than their luck. They took shelter under broken overpasses and in the garages of obliterated apartments, venturing out only sparingly to keep up their mobile barrage. Even with such precautions, it seemed they were being destroyed as quickly as the Scar Hounds could send them out, the vehicle caches steadily depleted.

In a war of attrition, the Brotherhood was doomed to certain defeat. They had boldly dropped into the middle of a fortress-city, without hope of reinforcement, and had been outnumbered from the start. Their only hope now was to take as many Imperials with them as they possibly could, lubricating the gears that opened the gates of paradise with the blood of their foes... or was it? For the Bloodsworn had never stopped pushing, never stopped striving toward the spaceport air defenses. And if they could just distract them, for even a moment...

Then Alars Keto might just be able to turn the tide.

 

[Alex Eldar]

S H A D O W
SERGEANT
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
NEW CARANNIA | NIRAUAN

ALLIES: Willan Tal | DECEASED Aron Gowrie | Shai Maji | Sturit Goan | Inarin Lsu

SECONDARY: DECEASED Erskine Barran | Alric Árheim | Ortʹtʹo Mikla | Aemilio Valaar | Kolson Vrask | Sephi Karneh | Raus Garrat | Nukth Kelga'an | Knight | DK-03 | Aurelian Sigismund | Julian Qar | @anyone else I missed

ENEMIES: The Mongrel | Halketh | Zachariel Steelblood | SCAR | Khamul Kryze | Alars Keto | @anyone else I missed

ENGAGING: Khamul Kryze (come at me and mine bro)

GEAR: Armour | 2x Pistols | Battle rifle | Sniper Rifle |Vibroblade | 2x Vibroknives | Basilisk named Hack and others | Grenade loadout

HEAVEN NOR HELL​

'Make your predecessor proud, as I for mine to this very day. If you won't ascend for yourself, then climb to prominence for their sake at least.'

The words of the Colonel kept swirling around in her head, even as undead approached their location after the brief lull they had to refit and refuel. The resentment in her heart was real at how coldly Shai Maji had handled the death of her brothers and sisters in arms. How offhandedly the Shistavanen had handed her a fallen Vod's rank.

Alex clenched her jaw as she replaced her helmet as the Colonel launched himself into the thick of the undead horde like a feral beast with class. Kicking her own jetpack into action to provide the Tuath with cover fire.

<Kovlor, the left flank! Mag dump it!> she directed her one squad towards some stragglers that were looking to overrun ACV.
<Aye, Sarge.> came the gruff reply from the Rook.
<Shaddix, cut them off from behind. Nuke it if you have to!> she said as she herself stayed over the Colonel, unloading particle bolts into any zombies that tried to get a blind jump on Gowrie.

It didn't take them long to clean area and roll out.

Alex kept her helm on, even inside the ACV, mostly to hide her stoic face. She'd worked once or twice with Shai - most recently on Tandun III - but the way her CO operated when it came to KIAs had rubbed the Shadow wrong.

The complete disrespect of those you had sent to their deaths.

An ominous howl came closer before a rapid BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR sounded while capital particle bolts thundered down from above.

Hack strafed past alongside a contingent of other Basilisks with riders, clearing out some advancing Bloodsworn Zachariel Steelblood had pushed South West.

Mawite fire clanged as it bounced off the beskar and impervium hides of the war droids as they flew past, scorch marks and dents beginning to appear on some. Growls rumbled from the semi sentient beings as they made circling fire runs to hold back the dread horde.
://:Large force approaching Spaceport - headed hard South West from Saffia District Crash Site://: Hack transmitted to Alex as he added some laser fire to the particle cannon fire. ://:Sixteenth Units taking heavy fire. Imperial Ground Forces as well. Requesting haste://:

Alex's inner, bitter babble was interrupted by Hack's transmission flashing across her HUD.
"Oh fethit!" she cursed. "Colonel, combined Imperial forces are tanking heavy fire to our East from renewed Mawite forces coming from the North, Sir. Can uh.....these things go any faster? Respectfully, Sir." she relayed to Gowrie, ignoring her direct CO entirely in the process.

It took a great deal of restraint to contain her impatience as best she could. Mostly to get out of the confines of the tank. She wasn't entirely sure that moving out and about would lessen her guilt much, but wishful thinking was a thing after all.

Being stuck in a vehicle with a commander that had no respect for her kind, was not exactly a pleasure trip, despite the Colonel trying to ease Alex's heart.

It bloody sucked.

 

[Zori Kapshan]

LOCATION

Nirauan

Objective: Enter the roof of Thrawn Library.

​

Carrying wounds long after the battle is done is the mark of weakness.

The Commander was the first to heave Zori's frail body over the cusp of the rooftop, stepping back and letting the scientist breathe a second.


​

Zori shook it off, standing up and looking at his gravel laden palms. It was annoying, especially here, above all other places to be soiled with such hard labor when his position at the New Imperial Order commanded such respect. The Brotherhood didn't give a damn if Zori died or not - they just wanted his weaponry and insight on the Imperials. With the Imperials, at least he bore rank. At least he commanded respect. At least he was part of a unit, a body that moved together. Now, he was little more than an indentured servant. Perhaps "in the name of science" wasn't always the correct hyptheses. Perhaps sometimes money wasn't always everything. Perhaps he should've never evaded the Imperial Order, perhaps he should've just paid the taxes.

Unlikely. The feeling quickly washed over him as he wiped the rocks from his hands on his thighs, the wind slapping against his face as the Zeltrosian turned to look over the rooftop and to the horizon. Such a gorgeous site, this was, from the Hand of Thrawn. Envious he would be of a corner office here.

Two probe droids made their way into Zori's palms, being activated as the rest of his fleet looked for an entrance around the section of the building. He immediately went for the ventilation chutes, dropping the probes in there so that they could begin searching. Meanwhile, the droid contigent and his Commander began to split up on the rooftop, constantly on watch for enemies enroute.

With any luck, there would be none, and this mission would go off without a hitch.

​

 

[Rika Hiro]

Asa Yubari|Niraun|Carannia
Tags: Halketh Bastard

Numerous were the undead that roamed the land, yet few they were of those that controlled them. Among the fetid masses, for all the sorcery and force ability, they conjured up feverishly for their master and the Mawite war effort. They did not see her, nor did they feel her presence among the living. One by one, they would soon meet their end to the droid that stalked the city where the living dare not walk.


The first of the five found her waiting, though he did not sense her until it was too late. Two cold, unfeeling mechanical hands wrapped around his throat and dragged him into the shelter of a side pass, the shadows obscuring the two save for the odd flicker of light from nearby bombardments. He tried to shout, cry for help, but the hands tightened around his throat, and the words soon turned to gargled bloodied chokes as he was lifted. The Sorcerer stared into the woman's eyes for answers, maybe some kind of emotion in that flickering moment of death, but he was met with blank alien-like indifference. His men soon found the two in a death-like embrace, and they fired in vain to save him, but it was too late. The HRD loosened her grip, letting the man fall like a sack of potatoes as she calmly walked off even as panicked blaster fire flew around her and missed.

He looked around desperately, looking for some kind of solace or comfort from the situation he had been thrust in. Someone or something had hunted down his kin, and each one was brutally snuffed out like a candle in the wind. Though he did not see the thing, he sensed his brothers suffering, and agony as the entity closed in on them one by one. It gave off no sense of life or energy, moving as silently as it appeared and disappearing just as quick as it emerged from the ruins to kill. He could only pray the common rabble had torn the robot apart by now; that could only be what it was; the Imperial weaklings had no appetite for the undead.





Still, he couldn't see it, but this offered him no solace as his guards were also still absent. Instead, his bodyguards had either run off or simply disappeared. Everywhere he looked, the city burnt bright with fear and suffering. And yet he lay here in paralysing fear even as the undead swarmed more and more of the city in his lord's command; he had never felt so lonely and exposed as he did now. It was time to leave. He clambered from his hiding spot and shuffled for the exit of the apartment block, but something moved, and he froze in fear. Not taking a step forward, he stayed still arrested by indecision. A loud bang echoed through the building; something dropped behind him.





He tried to move. But it was much quicker, gripping his cloak with both its hands and spinning him into the nearest wall. The last thing he saw was the exposed brick before darkness hit, and his world went. ​

​

 

[Rurik Fel]

E M P E R O R
THE EMPIRE
ORDER OF THE IMPERIAL KNIGHTS
CHAPTER 'IRON CRUSADE'
Iron Skin | Lightsaber​

STRUCK LOW
HAND OF THRAWN​

As swiftly as he brought himself back into the rush of battle against his foe, the insidious sickness began to creep within his form and seed itself through his body in a nigh putrid infection. He was being drained of his power. The Force, the weapon he wielded in his grasp was failing him, nay, betraying him. As she drew on his power, he could sense his control over the constant, searing paint that grasped his mortal coil fading away in the shadow of the searing fire that was ever present there. His argent blade went out and he collapsed to a single knee, raking in heavy, desperate breathes with every second as he could feel his vision closing in on itself in a foreboding blackness.

No.

I will endure.

I will endure.

I will endure.

I will die.
​

He peered up toward Darth Mori, expecting the coup de grace to grasp him as time skid nigh to a halt in his perception. That haunting visage filled his vision. A face peeled of skin and flesh down to a skull of gold beneath looked to him in eyes of faintly glowing white as the power imbued in his own eyes had faded to the cold steel beneath.

"To march into every battle expecting to win it alone...will be your undoing, Fel." The figure crouched down to look him at the eye at equal height to him as he continued knelt in blistering pain, exhausted from clinging to the last, strained fibers of a tortured existence.

"Your Knights bleed for their Empire...and you are not there to lead them. Join them...and they will join with you. Together, you will all endure." Rurik, his expression drained of any animation beneath the iron visage clasped over his disfigured features. Even still, pain bled through his eyes in a tearful plummet. It all became far too heavy a burden to bare in these desperate moments.

"Get up. Fight as one."

IN THE SHADOW
​

He burrowed within himself, centered on his own ego and pneuma, the very core of his being, that last spark unstolen by the scion of darkness before him. He managed a desperate clutch around it before he channeled his will through it and called out with a voice to those Knights of Order, the weapons of the Empire that desperately shed their blood to defend this sacred world. He summoned them in a stern, yet strained voice of command. Not speaking organically, but through the tethers of the Force itself.

TO ME, MY KNIGHTS!
​

He said before he began to meld with each of them. Linking those ethereal tethers between himself and the rest of the Knights of the Empire present in this mortal struggle on the broken grounds of Nirauan. He could feel an immediate return to form and rejuvenation from the bindings to each of them. He engaged his argent blade once more to clash it against the swipe of blackest night and brooding crimson that sought to strike him low again. Before his gaze snapped up to Mori in blinding white as it did the rest of the Imperial Knights bound to him. They would not claim victory between one another isolated and strained by the deathly toll of darkness.

They would fight as one.

"I am the darkness."​

"I AM THE EMPIRE. I AM RETRIBUTION. "

"I WILL SUFFER THE DARKNESS NO LONGER."​

His stern voice rung out in ethereal echo as he conjured a veil of collected force energy in his left hand, reeling that arm back with a clenched fist before thrusting it forward to impose the will of retribution and tangible destruction unto the Shi'ido before him before surging forward with a cut of his argent blade toward Mori.

KNIGHTS OF THE EMPIRE
Lucien Dooku | Bastard | Waymar Geyer | Khroraic | Saaveina | Ignatius | Ragnar Bloodfist | Mogra'teksa

THE DARKNESS
Darth Mori​

 

[Mogra'teksa]

M O G R A ' T E K S A
IMPERIAL KNIGHT
Armor | Lightsaber | The Twins
// Maestus \\

WARRIORS OF LIGHT
​

TO ME, MY KNIGHTS!

The voice bellowed with such conviction the Imperial Knight found herself compelled to turn, her pistols lowering by her sides, and fixed her amber eyes upon the Hand rising in the distance. A surge of white-hot atonement poured through her veins, overcoming her doubt, slashing her pain, and banishing the Darkness creeping about the periphery of her thoughts. Strength gathered, the looming storm clouds blotting out the blood moon, and lightning crashed, electrifying her senses. Eyes illuminated, amber daggers softened into pools of moonlight. The Twins found themselves nestled into their holsters on each hip, the twi'lek mechanically drawing the blood-splattered hilt of her saber from its clip.

"I AM THE EMPIRE. I AM RETRIBUTION."

"I WILL SUFFER THE DARKNESS NO LONGER."
​

The Iron Imperator spoke through her, their harmonized voices tolling as the bell to bring about the apocalypse. The pearled gates of the heavens swept open, minds overturned independence for one singular drive, one focus encompassing all of them; the absolute destruction of the darkness upon their doorstep. Mogs turned her gaze downward, glimpsing briefly the stunned helmets of the stormtroopers she had taken refuge with, catching her reflection in their visors. She was unlike herself. For a moment, she was the stalwart leader of The Empire, the man bound to mortal coil encased in metal and draped in ivory. The next she was the four-armed shield of justice. Another, dark-robed, and horned. The next bearded and steadfast. Minds swirled into synchronicity, a maelstrom of unrelenting punishment.

Snap-hiss!
​

From her perch, the twi'lek dove into the fray without fear, the courage of her comrades crashing into her psyche gracefully, flooding her body- no the very essence of her being, her soul, with their virtue. The best of them all became available to her, Saaveina 's steadiness, Khroraic's courage, Ragnar Bloodfist 's relentlessness, Waymar Geyer's fortitude, Bastard 's wrath, Lucien Dooku 's cunning, Ignatius ' hunger, and most of all, Rurik Fel 's oath of retribution. His endurance. His strength. To her comrades, her lithe grace was afforded, agility surpassing the mortal coil, and reflexes to counter and catch the punishment of their assailants. Crimson fingers flexed skyward, energy coalescing in the toil of her summons, manifesting as molecules excited. A gale of torrential wrath coiled between her fingers, swirling between hooked digits.

The lethan's potential had, at last, been unlocked.

Wildfire her whip, annihilation her tool, Mogra'teksa lashed her empyrean grasp outward. A thunderous crash descended upon the horde of undead cornering her and the men beside her, flames cracking to life with gulps of excited air, pouring from her outstretched palm. The overwhelming stench of rot was burned away, replaced by the metallic sharpness of charred flesh and heated metal. Their strength her own, the river of flame poured with sky-scorching intensity, expanding beyond the street to pour into the alley beyond, flooding past those buildings too, until its grasp ceased just short of the opposite block. "Push! For The Empire!" the sergeant to her flank ordered.

The Knight expelled a breath, severing the deep summons, and the dragon's breath ceased- flames flickering out to reveal a charred scar burned across its reach. Smoldering bodies by the dozens remained behind, the undead reduced to little more than carbon with the exertion of her will. She swayed, stunned for a moment, though with the same mechanized ease returned with her next breaths, she dashed ahead, the blade of sanctimony in her hand crossed to meet its fury against the next tide of undead. Gracefully she whirled, sundering a pair of mock soldiers in twain with but one cleave. A swerve saw blaster streak by, crashing into the scorched duracrete by her side. Her free hand crunched into a fist and pumped skyward, breaking and throwing the incoming Mawites as forgotten toys left by a toddler's tantrum.

She felt unstoppable in that she felt nothing at all.

No doubt.

No fear.

No pain.

There was but one resonating chord thrumming in her bones; retribution.

 

[Waymar Dathrohan]

ORDER OF THE IMPERIAL KNIGHTS
CHAPTER 'IRON CRUSADE'
THE EMPIRE
ARMOR | SHIELD | LIGHTSABER

DESCENDING
​

The burning sensation that came from Amaya's piercing emerald gaze honing in on him like rampant prey was not lost on him. He felt the ailing vulnerability her presence created. Her and the Crestfallen both. This moment of challenge and desperation washed away any lingering anxiety in the wake of the coming bloodshed. Each thump of his shield against broken earth drove them further toward him until soon enough he was all but enveloped in the horde. It would've been a nigh impossibility for the Troopers to maintain their accurate arcs of fire, cutting through rotten flesh of the perished with crimson hatred.

As if enhancing the command Waymar told unto Errant, he stepped ahead of the shield wall. He was the shield. This was his duty. The Crestfallen was lesser than his supposed brothers at his back. This was to be his moment of redemption, it was his to seize and the Echani half-breed did so in diligent

They were everywhere around them. He was nearly buried in this horde of the dead. He continued to swing his blade of argent white in far reaching violent arcs.

<"Not one step back! Hold!">​

He echoed the mantra he spoke in a hushed tone to Errant not moments before they were in the thick of slaughter. His shield bashed into shattering bone and flesh, his saber cut through rotten limbs. The darkness weighed heavy as did the burden of this obligation. To be the Empire's shield. Waymar retained his unbroken conviction in every swipe of the blade.

But the darkness cast over them all continued to choke away at him, making every breath more forceful and strained than the last. He joined to Errant's side as the Witch continued to ward his other flank in spiteful begrudging. Slashes, bites, slams, bashes and burns from the undead continued to wear down at the knight in argent clad, each step a mile in every pace as he could feel his battlemind fading in every moment.

His last swing seemed weak and burdened, had it not been at the end of a length of superheated alabaster, n

Then- a voice called to him through the Force.

TO ME, MY KNIGHTS!​

He spoke through Waymar and Waymar and the rest of the Knights of the Empire spoke through him in a singular, unbreakable, indomitable will. He echoed the rallying cry to the hordes of The Perished demons before him.

"I AM THE EMPIRE. I AM RETRIBUTION. "

"I WILL SUFFER THE DARKNESS NO LONGER."​

He said before joining back to back with the Crestfallen at his side in the center of the horde of darkness, reaching out with a willing hand to meld their power as one in order to coalesce in a wave of telekinetic vengeance through the mob of the Perished. What lingering judgement there was toward the ebon clad knight washed away in in their ironclad unity in the shadow of this titanic struggle. They would fight as one, they would endure. His argent bathed in crimson he joined with the rest to smite them from these broken and bloody streets in violent retribution.

THE EMPIRE
Bastard | Amaya Vollmond | Aridius

REIGN OF CHAOS
Halketh | THE PERISHED​

 

[Khroraic]

B O I C B R A V E S O U L
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
KNIGHT OF THE EMPIRE
Engaging: Kyrel Ren
Opposing: Detritus Ren
Allies: Saaveina | Ragnar Bloodfist | Djorn Bline | Keilara Kala'myr | Mogra'teksa
Imperial Knight Battle Armor | Contained Energy Axe | Tof Soren Slugthrower Pistol

---

​

It was as if Khroraic had angered the very soul of a mountain itself. He watched as his axe sparked against the armor wore by the Master of Ren, with a loud cry, he brought the axe back and swung it once more with all of his might, managing to chunk through the plate and peel it away so the saber could taste the necro-flesh of Kyrel. The smell of soot and burning flesh filled the air nearly instantly. He tugged on the axe.

It stayed firm. The bubbling tar-like liquid falling onto the floor in front of the Dwarrow. He tugged again, but to no avail. Nothing seemed to be troubling Kyrel. As if Khroraic was nothing more than a tuff of grass underneath the boots of a passing army. The man standing in front of him was more than human, he was more than a Sith, he was more than anything that Khroraic could have ever dreamed up in his worst nightmares.

This man was Sin given form, a demon brought into the world, he was the personification of Everlasting Doom.

The Dwarrow caught fist after fist to his face, initially trying to bring up his hands to defend himself, strikes breaking against armor before a hand wrapped it’s way around his throat. He was lifted into the air as if he was nothing at all. In the eyes of Kyrel, he was less than nothing.

“Y-ou… won’t win!” He choked out before he was tossed through the air for the second time today. He barely registered crashing through the shop window, slamming into a row of shelves, sending their contents fluttering about the shop. Darkness was creeping in, he felt something had to be broken somewhere. The armor did it’s job at comforting him from the shock and blunt force trauma, but Kyrel was something more than natural, he was something beyond mortal man. He fought like a possessed, and had the strength of a drakk. Blood trinkled in the front of the Dwarrow’s face as he glanced upwards. The HUD-glass that made up the top right of his half-helm was screaming something about heartrate, blood loss, all of it was too much noise for the Dwarrow. All he wanted right now was to rest.

He could see himself back in Thulir Hold. Smiling with a large pint of something bitter in his grip as he made his way between the various guests. It was a welcoming ceremony, for who…? Him it seemed. There were banners of both the Hold and that of the New Imperial Order, the Knights that had trained him were all in attendance, along with his beloved kinsmen. He saw his sisters and brothers, all of them jostling one another and shouting over eachother at the table in bids to get his attention. Each of them wanting to hear the stories that he had earned on his tours with the Imperial Knights. His father sat at the tablehead. Smiling bright and wide.

Khroraic looked down at his mug, the liquid was blood-red.

When he looked back up, he was in a void. The table, the music, the joy, all of it had vanished.

Blinding light.

Through it all, the booming voice of the Emperor.

"I AM THE EMPIRE. I AM RETRIBUTION. "



"I WILL SUFFER THE DARKNESS NO LONGER."​

AMEN AND ATTACK​

The calm of Saaveina . The iron-will of Waymar Geyer. The hope of Lucien Dooku . The rage of Ragnar Bloodfist . The determination of Ignatius . The resilience of Mogra'teksa . The redemption of Bastard .

The guiding hand of Rurik Fel .

The Dwarrow’s eyes snapped open. He felt his veins light ablaze with a bright hoarfrost flame. There was a hand reaching down and lifting him up. Each and every last Knight of the Empire, hoisting him to stand. Asking him to continue the fight. Demanding he serve his duty.

Commanding him to end the Darkness.

His eyes burned with a solar white light as for the first time in his life he felt the unfiltered energy of the Force fill his entire being. There was no shock of stonework advancing, there was no fear of returning to the Rubble and Rocks, as this was not just the energy of Khroraic. He felt it pull from distant sections of the battlefield, from knight after knight engaged with their Forever Foes. It was the combined Light and Might of the Empire. They stood as one, they fought as one, and they would purge the demons as one.

Khroraic stepped out from the shattered storefront, bringing his slugthrower pistol out as he began to click-click round after round into the chamber. Reloading it from his show with the undead earlier.

When he spoke, it rumbled with the force of the Heavens.

“Kyrel Ren. You hold no power here. The Night is subservient to Day, the powerful of the Everlasting Sun will eviscerate the Lunar Shield. So I swear on the blood of my Clan.”

Khroraic raised the slugthrower and sighted it down.

“Fall.”

He pulled the trigger. The round exploded from the chamber, and a moment later a brightness nearly impossible to properly perceive enraptured itself around the slug. Turning it into an arrow slung from the bow of an angel. The Force Light wrapped slug then was micro-boosted through the air. A powerful sling of Force energy projected directly behind it, causing a brief shockwave of air and sound to burst out from around the barrel of the firearm.

He pulled the trigger once more, another report of the slugthrower, another Divine Round leaving the chamber. He brought his otherhand up to steady his aim.

Three-four-five. The chorus grew even louder. Six-seven. The Dwarrow emptied the entire mag of retribution in the direction of Kyrel as he began to advance in the direction of the Master of Ren, already loading in more rounds into the pistol as he went.

The Seraphim of Redemption were the slugs, the Demonic Uprising was Kyrel.

He would be put down.