Faction Banners of the Fallen II [EMPIRE]

[Michael Barran]

Intro Post

NIRAUAN
-PEARL OF THE UNKNOWN FRONTIER-
Population (858 ABY): 20,000,000,000+
Population (880 ABY): 1,500,000+

Darkness awaits....

Amassing from formerly-defeated corners of the Galaxy, bolstering other Shadows.
They have come for the Hearts of Imperium.
​

Outposts between the Empire and the Unknown Regions, obscure and well-guarded though they were before, have since gone silent, though not without their fair shares of distress-signals before the gathering horde hushed the comms with lasting finality. It seems as though the Galaxy itself has sent everyone to assail them, but if the Imperial defence-contingent only knew who and what were being sent to destroy them, they would be a fair deal more worried than they would with any other contingent sent for the task, as any demon of the past would in place of the gathering Shadows.

The collective civilian groans of dismay, to each and every last one of them has grown tired to see that the war has come to find their homes again, for a third time in their short and fleeting lives, something none present ever wished to repeat by the point of the Empire's decline; life has been welcoming for Chiss, Human and elements from all the other sentients under the protective umbrella of Imperium, welcoming to hero and civilian alike, and to think of a Galaxy without Nirauan would naturally be too much to bear without rising in defiance. The locals will rise to the occasion, as those of Noris would in their stead, and in the strength of the planet's well-recovered state, the peoples of Nirauan are wisely arming themselves and organising - as the old Lord-Regent publicly intended for those living under the system of Imperial frontier-autonomy.

The first feels like it happened ages ago, and though it was but a short (and still recent) affair, it was enough to be marked by its place on a cenotaph in New Carannia's very-own Myrmidon Quarter, marking the very beginnings of the New Imperial Order henceforth, and marking a reason for defiance to all who were fortunate enough to see such a memorial from day to day. The second, however, is the battle that all are incapable of forgetting, as it was likely Nirauan's hardest fight for survival in wartime, tough enough even to break the likes of Erskine Barran in the attempt to beat back the Mawsworn menace; and as all know well already, the toughest to break were still rendered broken enough that they would never be the same again.

But New Carannia knows what a third suchlike battle could do to an Empire in peacetime.
​

This they tell the local garrisons, the frontier-contingents and commanders at every pertinent opportunity, and when further-honesty is required of them, frank and contentious are the words that follow. Saddening though it is, the peoples of Nirauan are still glad to have the Empire with them in their darkest hour, and whether the world survives or not, it gives them strength to know that the Galaxy's strongest stand to shield them from harm - one last time.

TO WHATEVER END AWAITS

-THE BITTER END APPROACHES-

Raiders prod and provoke the Empire's Chiss Frontier.

Raiders of the Unknown Regions, Marauders of the worst sort.
These were cut-throats, driven to zealotry in their beliefs before - but now?
​

None can say, none can even venture so far as to guess, and all the frontier-intel can gather is the nature of the way their fleets move around our own, staying out of range but without any sign or intention of retreating. Like ocean monsters, podding together for the sake of a larger share from the hunt, and in the eyes of those leading New-Imperial, Chiss-Autonomous and Galidraani fleets in the sector, they're very much aware of the groups that are amassing against them. Like carnivores beneath the surface of a river rippling deep, the gathering fleet gives the impression of Imperial hands being chewed to the bone for overstepping their own line, uncanny for all the firepower we offer on the Nirauan frontier.

But something always slips through, even with the fleet and surface-to-air elements poised in play.

​

However, Aron Gowrie, FN-999 and Michael Barran coordinate the Ground-Forces in three directions, and if the marauding hordes somehow slip through all the defensive artillery, the 908th Legion, 173rd Legion, Wildcat Division and the Highland Brotherhood will be ready to stand against them. Perhaps even finding a way to use New Carannia's anti-air guns on ground-level targets, but as with all things war on the frontier, especially with the Empire's already-depleted manpower considered already, the process of reaching our artillery-pieces could bear extreme difficulties before long. After all, the Unknown Regions always had more to offer than conventional warfighting terrors before, as there isn't an Imperial alive who doesn't know of the Maw's other, darker warfighting tools.

All the tribes of the Maw were known for keeping to each their own array of monsters to turn the tide when needed, and in the chances of particular holdouts joining the enemy fleet - Imperium grows ever more likely to be faced with such horror-inducing threats again.

 

[Michael Barran]

1st Post

-THE BITTER END APPROACHES-

CAIRN_ONE
RINGLEADER OF THE PELLAEONIST CLIQUE
WARDEN OF THE IMPERIAL KNIGHTS
DRUID-GRANDMASTER OF THE HIGHLAND BROTHERHOOD

TAGS
FN-999 Aoki-Barran Mira Argilac

HOLD THE LINE I: DEFIANT IMPERIUM - PART 1

CENTRAL TOWER, THE HAND OF THRAWN,
NEW CARANNIA, NIRAUAN (LATE 880 ABY)

"Only the dead have seen the end of war." - George Santayana



<"Scott to Cairn One! AD-Hub is live and ready, Milord!">
<"Barran to Wildcat Three! Relaying to HQ - good luck o'er there.">
<"Well-appreciated, but all is well - my line endures either way.... Guardian One out!">
​

The first attacking wave was moving to poise for the beginning of their attack, but the Empire was ready, standing firm with all the relevant defenders armed and ready to fight already, and with the appointed Imperial fleet poised in turn. Even in expectation of orbital bombardments, the infantry elements, armoured and everything of a higher calibre had been readied for such destructive beginnings to the hostilities, ever acutely reminded of history and the wanton devastation wrought by the Empire's many enemies over the years, as it was no secret that nothing was ever off the Galaxy's table whenever it boiled down to strikes on it's Pillars of Order. Underground they went, much like the civilians of the city and others around the planet, but unlike those they protected, Imperium would prove wily once more in it's placements of manpower and hardware alike.

​

'My apologies.... Just a moment, Mira.'

<"Barran to Central-Command! All guns in and around the city are active. Time to man our posts.">
<"McGecghin to Cairn One! Passing up that confirmation as we speak - ye can find yer spot for now, Milord.">
<"Copy that, an' happy hunting o'er there.... Cairn One out!">
​

Dummy placements of obsolete artillery-pieces and their like, including old tanks harkening back from decades before the Third Imperial Civil War began, all that could or would not be used in the fight would be left as bait for otherwise-unwitting opposition; as all agreed, though begrudgingly in some small instances, that it would be better to let the horde believe they had an effect on the outcome of the fight for New Carannia. Better for the AD-Hub at least, as all acquiesced in acknowledgement of the fact it drew bombardment-fixations away from the only valued assets known to be placed out in the open at the time.

Sadly for Laird Carwood, his line was extinguished decades ago.
Scott was fortunate, McGechin wasn't.

Destiny.... So you truly are a cruel, ugly crone after all.
​

After all, there was only so much the naval elements could achieve in defence of Nirauan's planetary orbit, as there was only so much they could achieve in previous defences of the Pentastar Alignment; something would slip through the fleet's lines, through the AD-Hub's shields and others around the city, and the Imperial defence-contingents would need to be ready for such an eventuality. Such calamity would surely draw further disasters of the sort, though as for whether it would draw farther bombardments or enemy manpower, the planet's defenders were ready enough to react to both likelihoods with swift unit-wide protocols in place. Sad orders for high-command to pass down, no matter what fate had in mind in the end, as one protocol meant retreating farther below ground, and the other meant sending some of the Empire's heroes to endure untold agonies to the bitter end.

'Alright, I suppose its time.... I just want t'say this much at least, but If we somehow survive this, we do whatever we must to rebuild what was lost. The realm hasn't recovered in time, but Imperium will live on - in all of us.... As our ancestors will.'

 

[DECEASED Aron Gowrie]

1st Post

-THE BITTER END APPROACHES-

WILDCAT_ONE
TRIBAL-CHIEFTAIN OF AN-TUATHA
LORD-GENERAL OF IMPAF
SWORD OF THE VALKYRIES

Tags: FN-999 Argilac Aoki-Barran Mira

TRIBULATIONS OF THE WILDCATS VIII: THE LAST TRIBULATION - PART 1

FORT DEFIANT, THE MYRMIDON QUARTER,
NEW CARANNIA, NIRAUAN (880 ABY)

"I hate war as only a soldier who has lived it can, only as one who has seen its brutality, its stupidity." - Dwight D. Eisenhower



'AD-Hub is live an' online, Milord.... Now all that's left is to wait, not like we've got much longer now, eh?'
​

The High-Command structure would be kept among the holographic battle-map projections, and though Barran himself was personally overseeing the defence of the Hand of Thrawn, there was at least someone competent enough to join Gowrie and Nines within Nirauan's final line of defence. Fate had everyone set apart from each other, though with purposeful responsibility for each and every last officer on duty that day, but with Carwood McGechin on hand - at least someone from the Goidelic caste could hold in the command-centre with the newly-anointed Lord-General of IMPAF.

After all, the most-decorated soldier in Imperial history deserved as much, eclipsing even the grandest achievements of the Lord-Regent's own IMPAF-tenure, and Lord Aron was still in standing to serve as a General at the time.

Still capable of earning honours on an already-stellar military record in his early-sixties.

But the wild, untamed Kellas within, as much as it had kept him alive for so long already, was resolved to go out in blaze of glory by then, resigned to a last stand of the likes the Galaxy would remember for centuries after that day. That soul-deep pain was proving too much to chase away, and as much as Aron (and his warfighting epithet-persona) tried to find peace for the sake of his men, his people and his daughter alike, too many in his life had perished to just let it go. Better to let it eat away at an old warrior, an old Chieftain, than to let it eat away at a young Lord or Lady of Tuatha, better it be that the young run free, to let life go on, a fact of which the Lord-General was well-aware by then.

'Correct, an' when their first shot is fired, we mark the Empire's Darkest Hour along with it.... An' may Ashla rest our souls if we aren't ready.'

Unclasping his scabbard from the sword-belt, Lord Aron then kissed the decorative basket-hilt of his blessed Sting o' Frost before returning it to the sword-belt once more, seen by all, even by the Lord-Baron of Borosk. But Gowrie would pay the moment no mind as he poured himself a whiskey, drinking the shot with the same stoicism his demeanour exuded, savouring the taste for a moment to himself before he finally turned to explain,'I express apologies for my outward expressions, Lord-Baron.... Its jus' that she's seen me through some wild scrapes o'er the years, an' as I can surely recall - you were there for more than a fair few o' those scrapes.', as if there even was a need to do such a thing around an old comrade of Nines' sort.

The sword itself had been blessed (even if only for as long as he was on Exegol) by Ashla for the last battle against the Maw, slaying untold abominations to buy time for a Saint of the Ashlan faith, but the history of Sting o' Frost before was no less entertaining; wielded well against a long line of opponents in combat, but in competition the Kellas' Songsteel sabre only seemed to gleam all the brighter, even facing up against the Claymore of the Lord-Regent himself to keep clan rivalries at a healthy low. No wonder the Lord-General's sword was known so ubiquitously, made all the more famous by the brazen, wild spirit of the man who wielded it, granting it's place among the high-command with prestige enough to rival that of every man in the room at the time.

'In any case - it's an honour t'have ye here, sir!'

 

[Yorunarr Ahan-Yan'Sharlim]

1st post

-THE BITTER END APPROACHES-

GODMASK_ACTUAL

LORD-CAPTAIN OF FIREDANCE BRIGADE(THE HIGHLAND BROTHERHOOD)
HIGH-SHAMAN OF THE SERENNOAN ESOTERIC CHAPTER
PRIEST-KING OF ARCHAIS

Tags: FN-999 Argilac Aoki-Barran Mira

FOR THE ANCIENTS II: IN THE EYES OF THE DEAD - PART 1

Fiyarro District, The Old City,
New Carannia, Nirauan (Late 880 ABY)

"A hospital alone shows what war is." - Erich Maria Remarque, All Quiet on the Western Front.




'You'll be the death of me someday, Preacher.... Consider yourself fortunate that I intend to prevail.'

You know not that Arr'Huwal does much and more to protect you, Siyarr.
These are the only things you're incapable of seeing in your dreams.
​

'As do I, Heady.... As do I.', the Godseer calmly replied, sat drinking tea with his old friend as he applied his own warpaint, quietly drawing his people's ethno-patterns in clear sight of the other Novanians. Giving off what appeared to be an air of absolute calm in a sea of gathering chaos, it was enough to give courageous heart to Warriors and Shamans alike among their Firedance brethren, Yorunarr's desired effect taking hold at the right time, as Novanians always fought best when adjusted to the rhythm of each battle they were ordered to fight. Fortunately for the Spiritual-Arkanian host, however, there was no fighting tempo of which the Priest-King couldn't match, and certainly not with the years of Imperial service factored into Yorunarr's warfighting aptitude.

'And besides, its been too long since I gave our enemies a good fright.... Lao-Mon's much too distant to be of any relevance in the here-and-now, and I only had eight other seers with me then - I'm sure you can already imagine what I can achieve with the fifty we have for my endeavours here.'

​

Placing his Hookah-Pipe to one side with a slow, smoky exhalation, the Dreamseer took a moment longer than usual to follow exactly what the realm's Godseer was saying, thinking his leader said,"Fifteen", for a moment until he turned to the Priest-King to inquire,'Preacher.... Did you just say,"Fifteen.", or,"Fifty"?', with eyes widening with worry as he quickly realised it was,"Fifty", after all. Even the Dreamseer's sort knew that Warseers were always deployed sparingly before, just like they were on Lao-Mon with the Goshen Rainforest considered more dangerous than any jungle on Archais at the time, prompting almost-absolute disapproval as Siyarr growled,'You're a karking psychopath - and I'm an idiot because I forgot all too easily.... Ya know, I actually hate you sometimes.', to which the Dreamseer only received hyena-like mirth in reply.

'Seriously - its almost like you want to destroy Nirauan instead of defending it.'

The Priest-King's left eyebrow raised with disapproving curiosity, as if to wonder where such concerns could arise from, swiftly responding,'Settle down, Heady! You know me better than that, and it's not that you need such reminders either, but if it keeps you from freaking out on me - I'll give you the general rundown on my plan for the western battle-lines.', and all just to keep his friend from fretting to silly extremes in sight of the others. Siyarr had earned the respect of his peers since Novania declared for the Galidraan Imperial-State, fighting in some of the wildest deployments alongside the Highland Brotherhood's druids and their regular soldiering battalions, and all to ultimately earn his place within the Novanian High-Command group, a reputation of which Yorunarr was adamant in his attempt to uphold for Siyarr's sake.

'Now, if you would accompany your Priest-King to the surface, there is much to discuss.'

​

 

[FN-999]

FORT DEFIANT - NIARAUN - 880 ABY​

ALLIES: Aoki-Barran Mira | DECEASED Aron Gowrie | Argilac | Michael Barran | etc.
ENEMIES: TBD
EQUIPMENT: 908th Legion

NINES​

Two men strode down the narrow hall, one in an Imperial officer's uniform and the other in a full set of stormtrooper armor.

"Are all units combat-ready?" asked the Baron for the third time.

"Yes, they are." replied his second-in-command and closest friend, Colonel Dazac "Bigfoot".

There was a brief pause in conversation as the pair kept walking, each man's destination still minutes away. Then, the Baron spoke up.

"I've been having a dream lately - one where I am on my Borosk estate, tending to my gardens and walking through the woods. Nothing else happens, but when I wake up, I always feel so… at peace. It's a good feeling, and it's had me questioning lately. All this fighting - should I take a break from it?"

"Yes!" shouted Bigfoot.

Immediately flustered at how loud he had just been, the colonel dropped down to a whisper.

"You've seen what thirty years of war has done to us - what it's done to you! If it's getting so bad that you hired a Chiss POW as your doctor, then it really would be best for your health to find a time to step back. Once this campaign is over, apply for leave, even if just for a month. Live out your dream."

"That's what I've been thinking." replied the Baron. "As soon as this is all over, I'll see if I can apply the whole legion for a month of leave. Give the boys a chance to see their families again and give me some peace and quiet to heal."

As Doctor Lamaty had taught the Baron how the traumas of war and loss affected his daily life, he had begun to realize that he had for too long overlooked not only his own mental struggles but also those of his own troops. They all deserved a break from the living hell that was war.

"And it would be even better if you were there with me."

Given the fact that the exact location of the Baron's estate was classified, receiving an invitation was a significant event.

"It would be an honor. I think I'll even bring a plant to add to your garden. Got any requests?"

"No requests. Choose whatever you want."

"Sounds good!"

Before they knew it, the pair arrived outside the staging room.

"I'll keep you posted!" concluded Bigfoot before jogging down an adjacent hall.

For a moment, the Baron stopped to think.

From the age of six he had been taught nothing but how to wage war. He was raised as the ultimate soldier, first for the First Order and later for the New Imperial Order. Even as it grew and morphed into the Empire, the battlefield had never been far behind, another campaign against another distant foe on another distant world always calling. The cycle would continue until he died a hero's death or grew too old and was discarded. Up until the past few years, he had never considered any alternatives. Even with the treatment he had been given over the past few years, the Baron still doubted whether or not he even knew how to step back and relax.

Muffled voices inside the room brought him back to the present, reminding him of the reality at hand. Before he could ponder how to handle an extended leave, the Baron would have to fight one last battle.

With a deep breath, he swung the doors open and took his place in the room.

Already, the Galidraani military elite were present and alert, planning for the battle ahead. When the Baron had first risen to senior command over a decade ago, he had seen the Galidraani elite as nothing more than a vulgar, constantly inebriated clique brought to power by nepotism at the highest ranks. However, as he grew acquainted with Galidraani such as the Barrans and Aron Gowrie, the Baron had grown to realize that they were all grizzled and formidable commanders whose high positions came from an unyielding commitment to the Empire from its very conception. Recently, he had even begun to fully understand their unique dialects and absorb the full meaning of what they had to say.

It would prove valuable as Aron called out to him.

'I express apologies for my outward expressions, Lord-Baron.... Its jus' that she's seen me through some wild scrapes o'er the years, an' as I can surely recall - you were there for more than a fair few o' those scrapes.'

"I understand, my lord." replied the Baron. "We all have our own pre-battle rituals. As for me, I always test all my helmet's features before I step onto the battlefield. Better to know now then have it fail me when I need it the most."

He was tempted to bow in the presence of the Lord-General, whose immeasurable achievements and titles made him the highest-ranked individual in the entire Imperial Army. But just as the Baron's knees began to drop, he remembered that the Galidraani were in general a warm-spirited people and recognized that the Lord-General likely saw him as an acquaintance rather than a subordinate. The Baron quickly returned to standing, listening as Lord Aron continued to speak.

'In any case - it's an honour t'have ye here, sir!'

"It's an honor to be here." replied the Baron. "The Reborn stand ready to enforce your will."

 

[Ashel de Stilico]

Ashel de Stilico, Stormtrooper Medic
Actions: Double checking medical supplies, Awaiting Enemy

Ash never once thought she’d missed the rains from her home-world, depressing as the storms could get, there was a certain sense of calm she would feel whenever a downpour occurred. As if being reminded that even the skies above her can weep, and in her fantasy the skies wept for the dead. Death comes before new life. Ash kept herself lost in her thoughts right up until the blaring of the alarms and orders being shouted for them to move into their defensive positions.

Her thoughts of rain were stamped out by the sounds of hundreds of boots quickly stomping through the underground hallways. Ash marched near the back at a more measured pace, she had played this tune before and knew the importance of keeping her stamina up. Especially when I start seeing more than three requests for a medic on my HUD. Ash counted herself quite lucky that she had recovered quite a bit of bacta-refills and much needed bandages for emergencies. The local pharmacies that they had requisitioned for military use had proved quite beneficial; even if Ash thought the use of aging healing-sticks appeared more of a sign of desperation than plucky determination.

Better than nothing isn’t the rousing battle-cry that many think it is. Ash bitterly mused, her rifle held loosely across her chest plate, its swinging motion becoming quite hypnotic until her company had finally come to their positions. She eyed her LT from where she stood, there wasn’t anything for her to over hear, but she couldn’t help but try. An old habit that proved too stubborn to die, even after boot camp and subsequent deployments. One that hadn't gotten her reprimanded just yet, but she liked to gamble.

A tap on her shoulder tore her attention away and towards one of her squadmates, Hank, the oldest of their squad and their grumpy team-lead. Or rather permanently annoyed team-lead. She raised her shoulders and tilted her head slightly and waited for him to say something. Instead he simply pointed a finger at her side-armor plates, it was rather pathetic to look at but the Quartermaster hadn’t been given enough time to patch her armor set completely.

“Head-Wrench told me he could only repair essential pieces at the moment. . . and that medics don’t usually take point in fire-fights anyways.” Ash explained through gritted teeth. For the most part Ash appeared like a normally battle weathered Stormtrooper medic. But through closer inspections several pieces of “non-critical” armor were seemingly quickly patched. Well, except for her left side piece designed to protect her lower ribs, the blaster mark on the armor looked fresh.

“They never met a suicidal medic like you if they think that’s the case.” Hank gruffly replied but sighed in annoyed defeat. “-Go with the rest and double check our medical supplies.” He ordered and Ash nodded and headed out quickly.

She didn’t bother responding to her team-lead’s comment, it wasn’t like it required any between the two. They both understood one another and the dark humor had helped aleve quite a bit of tension in the recent months while out on deployment. It’s not like it’s hard to die when fighting against the Maw anyways. Ash grimly smiled at the prospect of a future joke, if they don’t make out after this deployment half her squad wouldn’t have to worry about their blood-work being tested next month. So many guys are scared of needles, quite ironic really, especially after fighting back the Maw for such a long time. Ash though conceded given some of the zealots that the fear needles might have come after fighting the Maw for quite some time.
​

 

[Albrecht F. Herlock]

Allies : Imperial troops

Foes : Any hostile people/ship

Equipment : Uniform; custom-made blaster; cerermonial sword; telescope

Task Force 58 composition : AIV Napoléon Bonaparte (Legate-class battlecruiser, flagship); AIV Maréchal Davout (Pellaeon IV-class star destroyer); AIV Maréchal Lannes (Pellaeon IV-class star destroyer); AIV Robert Surcouf (New Imperial-I class star destroyer); AIV Jean Bart (New Imperial-I class star destroyer); AIV Dixmude (Onager II-class star destroyer); AIV Montfaucon (Onager II-class heavy cruiser); AIV Passchendaele (Onager II-class heavy cruiser); AIV L'Effroyable (Harrier-class heavy cruiser); AIV Le Téméraire (Harrier-class haevy cruiser); AIV L'Indomptable (Harrier-class heavy cruiser); AIV Le Malin (Harrier-class heavy cruiser); AIV Forbin (Cuirassier-class cruiser); AIV Cassard (Cuirassier-class cruiser); AIV Camerone (Cuirassier-class cruiser); AIV Koufra (Valiant-class star destroyer); AIV Bir Hakeim (Valiant-class star destroyer); AIV Athos (Katana-class heavy cruiser); AIV Portos (Katana-class heavy cruiser); AIV Aramis (Katana-class heavy cruiser); AIV Silencieux (stealth corvette)

Legate-class battleceruiser AIV Napoléon Bonaparte
Commanding officer : Commodore Albrecht Herlock

The ships were getting ready to set sail. A few hours prior, Herlock received words that his fleet might be needed with no further details. Just in case it was a really serious matter like a possible annihilation, he spread the order to prepare for immediate departure to all of his commanding officers. After a few more minutes, the ships launched one by one, led by the mighty battlecruiser Napoléon Bonaparte. They took formation before jumping into hyperspace, heading to Nirauan.

 

[DECEASED Aron Gowrie]

2nd Post

-THE BITTER END APPROACHES-

WILDCAT_ONE
TRIBAL-CHIEFTAIN OF AN-TUATHA
LORD-GENERAL OF IMPAF
SWORD OF THE VALKYRIES

Tags : FN-999 @ Argilac Aoki-Barran Mira Ashel de Stilico Albrecht F. Herlock

TRIBULATIONS OF THE WILDCATS VIII: THE LAST TRIBULATION - PART 2

FORT DEFIANT, THE MYRMIDON QUARTER,
NEW CARANNIA, NIRAUAN (880 ABY)

'I understand, my lord.'

The Baron himself, as I live an' breathe.
This one was fighting Sith before I ever thought t'join Tal's Imperial-State.

An' here he is - thinking I'm his senior when I think him mine.
​

'We all have our own pre-battle rituals. As for me, I always test all my helmet's features before I step onto the battlefield. Better to know now then have it fail me when I need it the most.'

​

Smiling to himself, the Kellas nodded in recognition of another veterans' habit, listening on as the Baron continued,'It's an honor to be here.', answering to the Lord-General's praise with praise of his own. A gesture of which Gowrie couldn't help but appreciate, despite the fact Lord Aron believed there was no reason for a man of Nines' standing to be so humble, and especially whilst in the company of peers who looked up to the leader of the 908th, both as an inspiration and a true hero of Imperium.

'The Reborn stand ready to enforce your will.'

​

Simple though these words were to the others, and just as simple they were in Nines' own perception, the Baron's choice-phrasing moved the Lord-General to momentary speechlessness, but Lord Aron could not allow the acceptance of something Gowrie himself felt he had not earned yet. Like a King speaking highly of a common-soldier, like a hero praising a quartermaster, seeming more than general irregularity without context, and especially so with their past deeds compared. The battlefield trench-fighter had been offered reverence by the Empire's greatest living strategist, but in clear understanding of the Baron's sincerity in such moments of dire circumstance, Lord Aron eventually acquiesced,'This I accept, but only if you accept my readiness to enforce yours.', though only insofar as his pride, and honesty could permit it to stand.

'And mine! I'll even stick my neck out an' speak for the Lord-Warden as well!'

 

[Yorunarr Ahan-Yan'Sharlim]

2nd post

-THE BITTER END APPROACHES-

GODMASK_ACTUAL

LORD-CAPTAIN OF FIREDANCE BRIGADE(THE HIGHLAND BROTHERHOOD)
HIGH-SHAMAN OF THE SERENNOAN ESOTERIC CHAPTER
PRIEST-KING OF ARCHAIS

Tags: FN-999 Argilac Aoki-Barran Mira Ashel de Stilico

FOR THE ANCIENTS II: IN THE EYES OF THE DEAD - PART 2

Fiyarro District, The Old City,
New Carannia, Nirauan (Late 880 ABY)

'So, what's the big plan for fifty Warseers, huh? What destruction do you seek to make here?'
​

Looking up to the sky as the rain's first droplets landed on the ground beyond the monorail-station's entrance, the Priest-King couldn't help but smile a little as he answered,'Thunder, bringing the storm to wet ground.... Despair, bringing fear to the minds of our foes.', pausing only to turn his gaze to the Dreamseer's own, but remaining beholden to his pause for better effect. The Warseers in question could be heard chanting already, wrapped in the repetition of their prayers whilst Yorunarr and Siyarr cast a knowing look in each other's direction, providing a perfect undertone as Yorunarr continued,'War, bringing swords to the throats of all who assail us.', concluding a response that quoted the chanting shamans' plan verbatim.

'Rest your heart, Heady. We both know they're here to give us a display like no other, and even you can admit the Warseers are quite the wonder to behold.... Just imagine what forty-five Warseers can do in defence of an entire battlefront.... Its a ritual all unto itself, and coincidentally the first of the sort to be enacted in well over thirty years.'

Five Warseers would remain with Firedance Brigade for the sake of the warriors' morale, but forty-five more intended to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with their Priest-King, and though it was only five fewer than expected, Siyarr would need no further encouragement after learning of the small compromise. Steadily warming to the idea of standing with sword drawn in defence of legendary shamans, standing with such an overgrown collective didn't seem so unsafe after all, but in the moment the Dreamseer retorted,'I sincerely hope you're not wrong this time, especially with your strategic track-record considered.... Its a big risk either way, Preacher. But I'll trust your judgement - this one time!', it was clear that some of the previous apprehension would remain to hamper Siyarr's (otherwise-trusting-) obedience.

'Good enough for me.... As far as I see it, we've got room there for pleasant surprises, the sort that could change your mind; not much in the way of confidence there to work with, but I don't mind, I'll take what I can get for now.'

​

 

[Aurelian Sigismund]

AURELIAN SIGISMUND

"There is no enemy. The foe on the battlefield is merely the manifestation of that which we must overcome. He is doubt, and fear, and despair. Every battle is fought within. Conquer the battlefield that lies inside you, and the enemy disappears like the illusion he is."

Equipment: Armour | Sword | Vibro-Claw | Dual-Ranged | Bodyglove
Ship: Eternal Triumph, Pax Imperialis-class
Tags: Michael Barran | DECEASED Aron Gowrie | Yorunarr Ahan-Yan'Sharlim | FN-999 | Ashel de Stilico | Albrecht F. Herlock

Post I​

THE LAST OF US
Aquila-Actual​

NIRAUAN OUTER SYSTEM, ETERNAL TRIUMPH
{>LATE ABY 880<}

After Exegol everything started to crumble. Not only the Brotherhood of the Maw was defeated, but also its adversaries were felled, bleeding from a dozen wounds, twisting as they tried to embrace the triumph they have achieved. Thought to have achieved. But outside of the Alliance, there was little to cherish, little time to erect great monuments. The war had cost everyone dearly, millions have perished, many more were refugees and it was a hollow victory. Hollow for we had only defeated what was in each and every one of us. Hollow for we had no comrades, no friends left to enjoy it with.

We had paid the price. A sacrifice. And the Galaxy moved on.

From the battlefields of the Maw-controlled Unknown Regions, the survivors moved back to lick their wounds and reorganise what was left. But we did not move back to imperial space. Our projects were entering their final stage and did not need immediate attention and instead returning to the ancient homeworld of Zakuul seemed prudent. But with both the Eternal Empire's formidable strength withered and the New Imperial Order's power all but exhausted, the two realms started to crumble and it did not take long till the scavengers came. The Maw was 'defeated'. You cannot kill an idea as every Mandalorian will proudly recite. And neither did we kill all those who followed the savage teachings of the Maw and marauder fleets and bands gathered and roamed the border regions.

When the Chiss-Imperial Frontier showed to be as sturdy as a piece of wet paper, the former or still in place, Moff of Vandemar, Aurelian Sigismund, had to make the difficult decision where to go and what to do. He had never been bound to anything but service to the Benevolent Eternal Emperor, and yet he had walked a long way alongside the New Imperials. Witnessed their defiance, embraced their brethren and defeated their enemies. No where as closely as on the world of Nirauan, where he nearly was killed, buried under a falling building. Now the Mawite remnants apparently decided to return to their site of desecration and slaughter once more and without hesitation, the Imperator of Vandemar mounted his warship and moved to Nirauan.

NIRAUAN SYSTEM, NIRAUAN, HAND OF THRAWN
{>LATE ABY 880<}

Last time he had walked these corridors, he was accompanied by a squad of his Agema Bodyguards, warriors who he had trained for many many years and who now did not exist anymore, only as memories to a past which was quickly being left behind. The Rim-Guard had served its purpose well and made it possible for Sigismund to keep his head in the game and achieve some victories, not too great to be noticed, but enough to move figures in the direction he wanted. He has always been playing to long term game.

The last time he had walked these corridors, they were looking ... better. New Carannia was a pearl, a beautiful city and jewel of the Empire. And it was filled with legions of defenders to protect it from the onslaught of the Maw and its foul magic which had turned the dead into enemies, killing enemies twice and also having to fight the fallen brothers. Abominable.

Now he was entering the command station alone and unlike before when he met DECEASED Erskine Barran right here, there were other individuals who he had heard and read about but probably never actively met or fought alongside. But he would ask the same question as before. He was not interested to meddle in the supreme command of the Empire and while having more experience than necessary or in fact imagineable, Sigismund's presence on the battlefield would be more useful.

"An honour it is to fight here and alongside my imperial brothers again."

"Where do you need me?"

​

 

[Aoki-Barran Mira]

​

Equipment
Armor	Light Imperial Knight Armor.
Weapons	Imperial Knight Lightsaber.
	Hazukashi, Naginata Pole-Arm.
	Fukaikira, wakizashi short sword.
	Seijo-Ki, tanto dagger.
	Fragarach-model Heavy Disruptor Pistol.

Primary Objective: Protect Nirauan from unknown invaders.
Secondary Objective: Keep Michael Barran and as many good soldiers alive as possible, even if it costs her own life.
Location [Start of Post]: Hand Of Thrawn.
Location [End of Post]: Hand Of Thrawn.
Allies: Michael Barran .
Engaging: t Thomas Barran .
Misc. Tags: tba.

H E A L T H - B A R:
| | | - | | | - | | | - | | | - |

~ I S - T H I S - T H E - E N D ~

​

Was this the end?

Walking between two legions of troops, Aoki-Barran Mira managed to maintain her usual stoicism. Her face was hard as iron, she was serious and poised. Her eyes were hardened from her internal despair the best she could manage. Only those closest to her would be able to see anything other than a strong and brave Imperial Knight, ready to command troops. Inside, however... there was nothing but agony.

These last several years, she had trusted everything to a man named Michael Barran. His vision of a benevolent Pellaeonist Empire kept her at his side as his loyal Shadow, protecting him and fighting for his cause within a corrupt and malice driven Empire of hardcore imperials. Even if there has been recent victories on the front of reshaping the Empire, the outside threats to every imperial had been growing deathly. The rug had been pulled out from under, and suddenly, it seemed that there would be no Empire to save at all. Now, the Highland Brotherhood stood with countless others as the largest battle since Exegol loomed over them.

It was hopeless. The Empire was so weak and shrivelled, and the once mighty borders had been reduced to nothing. How did it come to this? Mira has trusted Michael's judgement, and it all came down to this. Her entire life was crashing down, again. How she viewed the Galaxy was being shaken to the core, again. And she was about to lose her family, again. Michael Barran was more than her leader. He was her father. Already, Erskine Barran had fallen. Would Mira be able to lose yet another person she loved?

She stepped out from the rows of soldiers and ascended a flight of stairs. Standing before her troops, her back was turned. Her face was still a stone, despite the tears threatening to break through her face.

And yet, in the depths of her despair and aimlessness, she still found reason to fight.

These soldiers. These loyal, good soldiers. She had fought many battles alongside them, broke bread with them, shared memories and bonds with these soldiers. Each and every soldier behind her had a unique face, a unique soul. And unlike her, they likely had families to return to. Her childhood memories of her family all falling in combat still haunted her. She would not wish that pain on any of these soldiers families. She closed her eyes and gulped, forcing her tears back. She turned around, gracefully and courageously facing these troops. While Michael still prepared and spoke with others, she had something she wanted to say to the soldiers below, and everywhere. Every soldier and unit under Michael's command was tuned in as Mira spoke through a comlink as well.

<<"Loyal brothers and sisters of the Empire,">> Her voice was calm, almost soothing, but strong and mighty all at the same time. <<"We face an unknown and powerful foe. This enemy of the Empire threatens to come down and fight us, break our defenses, and ravage what we all have worked so hard for.">>

<<"They threaten our Empire. They threaten our territory. They threaten our government. But even more than that, they threaten something far worse.">>

She allowed her own passion to slip into her voice, raising it as she proclaimed the heart of the matter. She lifted her arm and swiped it, <<"They threaten our homes. They threaten our husbands, wives, and little children. They threaten our lives. They dare to try and destroy our houses, raid our streets, and slaughter our loved ones like animals! How can we allow this to stand!">>

<<"We cannot! We will not! Even if it costs us everything, we must protect them! We still will fight this day! Until we have drawn our final breaths so our families and friends can live, we will not give in!">>

She let out a shaky breath, closing her eyes, <<"But even here, I myself make a request of you all. We have served together for years, and I value each and every soldier standing here today. I salute you.">>

She made a sharp salute, a salute to her comrades, companions, and friends. She stood there in attention for a long moment, then lowered her arm. They never would have seen her cry, even after so many battles. So when some up front noticed tears streaking down her otherwise stoic face, the realization struck them of the impact they had on their recent addition to Barran's arsenal.

<<"My friends,">> Aoki-Barran Mira drew her wakizashi sword from its sheath and lifted it high, <<"Do not die on me! Survive! And fight well, warriors of the Empire! We will not fight in vain today!">>

The troops all saluted back, cheered, and remained hushed through varryin reactions. Mira lowered her sword, unusual fire shining in her eyes, <<"Prepare for battle.">>

As they troops all started to move onto their various tasks, Mira sheathed her sword and wiped away her tears. She turned, proper and militaristic, and blanketed her previous emotions under her stoic mask once again as she approached Barran. Wordless, the Shadow stood behind him, ready to fight by his side. Though her sorrow and loss of faith shone in her eyes, her face was deceiving to anyone who would try to read her unmoved face.

She lowered herself to the ground, bowing a proper Atrisian bow. Head lowered, she spoke with her usual elegance and confidence, as if nothing was wrong. "Father."

​

 

[Argilac]

BANNERS OF THE FALLEN II
NIRAUAN - 880 ABY

Albrecht F. Herlock | Aoki-Barran Mira | DECEASED Aron Gowrie | Ashel de Stilico | Aurelian Sigismund | FN-999 | Michael Barran | Yorunarr Ahan-Yan'Sharlim
​

The flight to Nirauan felt like forever. It had been a long time since I've had such a flight, a long, restless flight full of anxiety, drenched in cold sweat. The last time was on my first assignment, flown straight to the frontline, to the galactic mosh-pit, just another body to hold the line. Yet I survived. Nirauan was a start for the Empire. A spark of fire that brought peace, order, and prosperity to the once forgotten corner of the galaxy. Mighty it is, the birth-land of the great Empire, may it reign for a century to come. The call was made after contacts were lost to multiple frontier outposts on the Empire's border to the Unknown Region. The wicked homeland of the Maw. It's like watching the blips of your comrade's lifeline dropping one by one on a pitch-black underground mission. Only worse.

The Maw is like cancer. You flatline 'em before it corrupts the whole galaxy. Yet, however hard we tried, they're still pouring out like a horde of roaches. Panatha wasn't enough. Exegol wasn't enough. Nothing will be enough until we exterminate every single one of 'em. Clear out the nest. And our so-called allies? They're not willing to do what needs to be done. They thought the job was done, they marched back to their decadent nests, celebrating burlesque victory, and here we are, having to clean up the rest of the mess. If the Maw is a cancer, they are parasites. Curse their names.

Arriving in New Carannia, the city is ready to take the beating of its life like a champ. Imperials flew in from all corners of the galaxy, locals are taking arms to help defend the bright jewel of the Empire. The Stormtroopers that came with me from Anobis took their station amongst IMPAF commands, forming a last line of defense of the city. That's not my place. I am the one who was forged to stand on the frontline, to rack up body-counts no one in the galaxy could ever compete with, to reap glory or die trying. To defend the worthiest of 'em all. Along with my fellow Imperial Knights, we were stationed on the east gate of the city, along with the 908th, TodHusars, and Nirauan Militias.

The regiment I am directly assigned to is a ragtag dominated militia. Not very well-trained, as expected. Diverse set of eyes, the bunch have. Some are eager, eyes burnt with fervent zealotry, a pristine devotion to the Empire. Others are tense, jittery, scared, putting on stark faces while wetting their pants. I couldn't blame them, how could I? They are tasked a task no men should ever have to. Men of all ages, thrown to the gutter, the first line of defense, the sacrificial lamb to extinguish the fire that is the Maw. So am I. All I could do is put the faith of God, a glimmer of hope in the heart of every single one of 'em. War, war never changes. It gives and it takes. Hopefully, this is the last one, the war to end all war. Call me naive, but I have hope, that's all I've ever had, the one that keeps me fighting the good fight. And I'll have to convince everyone that it could be true, an arcadian future. One that we are fighting for.

"Chiss, Galidraanian, Novanian, Anaxi, Yinchorri, Nirauan. Devoted children of the Empire. We are all gathered here today, to fight, to hold the line, to throw everything to protect the very land blessed by the ones who came before us, the ones who made an Empire so whole, the ones who sacrificed their life for another chance at peace, order, and prosperity. The banality of evil once ruled this jewel of the galaxy, the Sith Empire. NEVER AGAIN! On this day, we are standing here with our life on the line, ardent to root the evil out of the galaxy, to end the Maw once and for all. Hark my words when I say the good will triumph! Order will triumph! The Empire will triumph, on this day and every single day to come!"

I unsheathed my Greatsaber, the white crystal shining bright, juxtaposing the dark and gloomy ambience that filled the air of the Hand of Thrawn. Every brisk of wind pierced my heightened sense, filling in the hollowness, the imminent danger, the upcoming war machine that is the Maw. <Colonel FN-999, IMPAF Command, this is Imperial Knight Argilac of the Crusader Chapter, leading the 5th Nirauan Militia regiments, coming in. We are all in position and ready to welcome the charge. Godspeed.>. We are the one standing between life and death, order and chaos, peace and eternal war. So help us God.

​

 

[Albrecht F. Herlock]

Allies : Imperial troops

Foes : Any hostile people/ship

Equipment : Uniform; custom-made blaster; cerermonial sword; telescope

Task Force 58 composition : AIV Napoléon Bonaparte (Legate-class battlecruiser, flagship); AIV Maréchal Davout (Pellaeon IV-class star destroyer); AIV Maréchal Lannes (Pellaeon IV-class star destroyer); AIV Robert Surcouf (New Imperial-I class star destroyer); AIV Jean Bart (New Imperial-I class star destroyer); AIV Dixmude (Onager II-class star destroyer); AIV Montfaucon (Onager II-class heavy cruiser); AIV Passchendaele (Onager II-class heavy cruiser); AIV L'Effroyable (Harrier-class heavy cruiser); AIV Le Téméraire (Harrier-class haevy cruiser); AIV L'Indomptable (Harrier-class heavy cruiser); AIV Le Malin (Harrier-class heavy cruiser); AIV Forbin (Cuirassier-class cruiser); AIV Cassard (Cuirassier-class cruiser); AIV Camerone (Cuirassier-class cruiser); AIV Koufra (Valiant-class star destroyer); AIV Bir Hakeim (Valiant-class star destroyer); AIV Athos (Katana-class heavy cruiser); AIV Portos (Katana-class heavy cruiser); AIV Aramis (Katana-class heavy cruiser); AIV Silencieux (stealth corvette)

Legate-class battleceruiser AIV Napoléon Bonaparte
Commanding officer : Commodore Albrecht Herlock

The flight through hyperspace went well. Once it ended alarms started ringing inside the ship and action satation was broadcasted in old anaxsi inside the Napoléon Bonaparte.

"Au poste de combat, au poste de combat ! Tout l'équipage au poste de combat !" ("General quarters, general quarters, all hands man your battlestations !)

In less than five minutes, the ship was ready for battle as the rest of the fleet got out of hyperspace and took a spearhead formation around the Legate-class battlecruiser. Then Herlock took his microphone and, on an open channel to the imperial command center on ground, said these words:
"Guardian One, Guardian One this is Commodore Herlock, commanding the Anaxsi Imperial ship Napoléon Bonaparte and Task Force 58 speaking. I'm here to provide air support with nmy ships and starfighters to your troops. Tell me where help is the most needed and I'll dispatch my forces according to your data. If needed, I can also dispatch transport shuttles to transport wounded people to my ship's medical facilities. Glory to the Empire ! Herlock, out."

As Herlock spoke these words, the whole fleet began descending into a low orbit position, launching every starfighters available and preparing for a bloody battle.

 

[Nukth Kelga'an]

Banners of the Fallen II
The Bitter End Approaches​

N. Kelga'an, Banshee-Actual

The Empire Third Sector Defence Forces First Anaxsi Free Brigade -- Task Force Er'kit 'Banshee' Company V MULTIPLE IMPLOSIONS Er'kit's Last Stand -- Part I​

Interacting with:
880, Eastern Sector's First Line, New Carannia, Nirauan

«Et voyant pour surcroît de douleur et de haine,
Parmi ses étendards porter l'aigle romaine.»
Jean Racine, 'Mithridate'​

This was the last time Task Force Er'kit was assembled on Nirauan. This time, they were all Hussars, all sons to the Sieur of Anaxes. After the Imperial debacle on Exegol and the banishment of the Second Brigade's two regiments, remnants from the Sagaie, the Flèche and the Bouclier had gathered around the Sieur-Captain, now leader of a large group of soldiers. Around one thousand Hussars were under his orders so they could fight for Nirauan's freedom a third time. Nukth had already defended Nirauan twice in the past. First against the marauders hordes from the Maw Cluster who had tried to capture many districts in the city; then against the Chiss Reclamationists who had waged a campaign on the Imperial frontier.

Now the third round was about to be played. Same place, same allies but unknown opponents. Most of the troopers here were Galidraani ones, as this time again the Empire's Lord-General came from the Free-State. It was Aron Gowrie, a fairly recent friend of Nukth, who was now in charge of IMPAF, establishing a sort of commanding continuity with the years of service of the Lord-Regent in this position. To Nukth, it was one of the better choices to do, if it wasn't the best. Actually, other high-ranking officers could have had the job done as Gowrie, but the Sieur-Captain was well more confident in him than in anyone else. He was The General; the Tuath for the job.

Nukth actually didn't know who -- or what -- would be coming for us. But he was pretty sure it was nothing. In the past decades, Nirauan had been one of the first worlds to stand defiant with Tavlar's New Order and it had been held firmly by its defenders. Keeping it for the third time would probably be like strolling in the park.

::Milo to Er'kit-Actual -- Unaone Battalion's locked an' ready. Everyone is waitin' in the trenches for your orders an' our en'mies to come.:: Milo declared on general frequencies. Usually and because of his rank Delmas should have been in charge of the TodHusars who were about to fight on Nirauan; but the poor man had died from his injuries following the events on Exegol. He had had quite a good redemption before he left this world for the Anaxsi Azure Paradise. Nukth was glad he could have gone in peace; but he was now in charge of the remnants contingent. Becoming The Sieur-Captain, he assumed the role of Task-Force leader. And as a consequence, he appointed a couple of officers to new roles. Er'kit was split into five divisions, each called battalions 'Unaone' to 'Pantafive'. Simple but very easy to memorize. At least they lacked time in order to find original names for their units. So they did 'the simpler, the better'.

::Gotcha Unaone. Sieur to Terrathree, how's going on with the artillery groups?:: he asked Captain Zann, the well-known leader of the Kawas. ::Here's Terrathree -- still ongoin' actually. I mean... We lack artillery pieces but I kinda reformed the batteries so everything will be working for the best I can do. Sorry if I cannot cover you enough.::

That wasn't an issue. The Sieur had three other battalions that were able to support Unaone's charge against their enemies. Whether the batteries' fire was a little under what had been estimated or not didn't mean anything. Nukth didn't really care. He didn't think their enemies would come to Imperial lines with heavy pieces that could damage their infrastructures. Everything ran as expected.

«What a good day, eh?» he muttered.​

​

 

[Kastav Volff]

​

Location: Niaruan
Objective: Defend the City
Tags: Focus: Open| Albrecht F. Herlock Aoki-Barran Mira DECEASED Aron Gowrie Ashel de Stilico Aurelian Sigismund FN-999 Michael Barran Yorunarr Ahan-Yan'Sharlim Argilac Nukth Kelga'an
Actions: Moved from East Fall back Line to North-Eastern Niaruan militia positions
Forces:

• 2/45-CF E-Web Platoon [3/3] [14/14]

"Observe everything, admire nothing"
S A N D C A S T L E​

880 ABY
The 'fit'

Kastav stood in a makeshift command post on the eastern fallback line, his balaclava raised just above his mouth. In one hand a cigarra and in the other a cup of caf, breakfast of champions. Around him the command post was buzzing with life as officers in their staff prepared their orders and unit positions for the incoming raiders while the Axxilan himself stood near motionless. It had been an intensely busy week for the ISB Agent, destroying ISB blacksites and evacuating COMPNOR offices across the city as the raiders drew closer. Standard procedure when the head honchos thought they were going to lose and it was that part that didn't sit well with Kastav. Still, he had his cigarra and a break from his duties.

"Sir, Compforce officer here to see you." Looks like the break was over. Kastav eyed his caf before drinking it all in a gulp then putting his cigarra in his mouth.

He turned to face a fresh faced ensign who stood saluting Kastav. "Yeah alright. Stop saluting me as well." he said walking past the ensign who quickly followed behind. "You can go back to your CO and tell him I'm no longer around to cause any trouble."

Kastav walked out of the post and stood for a second in the rain, realizing he had made a crucial mistake. His cigarra was ruined. He spat it from his mouth and it crumbled into a sad ball of mushy paper and tabac on the floor. He allowed himself a deep sigh before continuing out in the rain and towards a group of Compforce soldiers standing in a hollow square.

"Boss." one of them said, who Kastav could identify as Lieutenant Faylara, the platoon commander. "We're all that the station chief allowed out. Said he wants the armour to stay and guard the regional HQ."

"Course he did." Kastav said looking around the platoon. 14 soldiers and 3 E-webs between them. Each soldier was loaded like a pack animal, either carrying E-web components, the battery pack or spare barrels. "They could've at least given us a landspeeder. You get them resupplied yet?"

"I wouldn't be your favourite officer if I hadn't." She said and Kastav allowed himself to grin under his balaclava.

"Fishing for a promotion already?" he jabbed back. To Kastav the Lieutenant and her platoon were a breath of fresh air, having spent so long with ideological zealots and aristocrat officers was draining. The 45-CF or Oathsworn was a penal unit and so Kastav was more or less amongst his own people.

He turned his attention to the soldiers in the hollow square and spoke up. "Alright, here's the deal, the Bureau needs more time to purge files and extract what they need so we have the good fortune of making sure the raiders don't break through. The chief doesn't trust the local militia to do their jobs so we're going to head out there and give 'em support with the E-webs." Kastav said before moving past the troops.

He extended a hand out to their North-East and continued speeking. "A militia regiment is stationed that way and we'll set up in some buildings nearby. Should these militia prove worse then expected and start to break well... it's our duty to remind them with the E-webs that they are to fight and die for the Empire." A few hushed chuckles came from the troops, mostly drowned out by the sound of the rain. Service guarantees freedom to these Compforce convicts, there were few tasks that would turn their stomachs.

Kastav turned to the lieutenant who took that as her que that they were ready. "Alright ya crooks, lets get moving!" she barked out and the overloaded soldiers shuffled into a staggered column. The troops would make their way to their assigned position, a four story building at a junction that overlooked a wide road that headed east. it already had militia positions littered down it.

<2/45-CF guns in position.>​

​

 

[FN-999]

FORT DEFIANT - NIARAUN - 880 ABY​

ALLIES: Albrecht F. Herlock | DECEASED Aron Gowrie | Argilac | Michael Barran | etc.
ENEMIES: TBD
EQUIPMENT: 908th Legion

NINES​

'This I accept, but only if you accept my readiness to enforce yours.', though only insofar as his pride, and honesty could permit it to stand.

'And mine! I'll even stick my neck out an' speak for the Lord-Warden as well!'

For a moment, a strange twinge went through the Baron’s stomach.
​

For all he knew, he was misinterpreting Lord Gowrie’s words. But from what he had heard, it seemed as if one of the most distinguished Imperial generals, nearly twice his age, was deferring to him. Part of the Baron would always be a stormtrooper, and that part of him stood in silent awe at how high he had risen in the minds of his peers. More and more he feared losing touch with the rank-and-file as he grew closer with Imperial leadership. Yet the Baron knew now was not the time to ponder such concerns. There was a battle to be won.

“Very well.” replied the Baron. “Let’s come up with a plan together."

He strode towards the middle of the room, towards a central holoprojector. The Baron then turned on the projector and opened up the tactical map, revealing the scans of the battlefield for all in the room to see.

​

“Our current formation is a defensive line encircling Fort Defiant, our center of operations.” began the Baron.

“I believe it would be best to maintain this line for the time being. It has everything a defensive line should - balance, depth, and superior terrain."

“Now, let’s consider our enemy."

“What the Maw lack in discipline, they more than make up for in strength and numbers. We saw this at Csilla, where they were unafraid of taking heavy casualties in order to penetrate our defensive line and deploy their elites. Given their success there, their commanders will likely take up a similar strategy here, sending wave after wave of frontal assaults at our weakest position."

“In order to counter this, I advise that we employ a defense in depth strategy. The vanguard shall hold the line until a salient is formed or the enemy achieves a breakthrough, at which point the vanguard shall withdraw to second-line fortifications where they will be reinforced by the units stationed there. Should the second line be penetrated, a third line will hold a tight perimeter around Fort Defiant."

“Additionally, if we have any hope of depleting the enemy’s forces, simply shooting them with standard small-arms and artillery will not get the job done fast enough. We must exploit their elemental weaknesses to their fullest. Their light infantry and heavy bioweapons alike are highly vulnerable to fire, making flamethrowers and incendiary rounds an excellent choice. Furthermore, the effectiveness of their heavy infantry and biomechanical units are significantly reduced by EMP and ion blasts, against which they have little protection."

The Baron let out a deep sigh and awaited the input of his peers. Just then, a broadcast came in from above.

Then Herlock took his microphone and, on an open channel to the imperial command center on ground, said these words:
"Guardian One, Guardian One this is Commodore Herlock, commanding the Anaxsi Imperial ship Napoléon Bonaparte and Task Force 58 speaking. I'm here to provide air support with nmy ships and starfighters to your troops. Tell me where help is the most needed and I'll dispatch my forces according to your data. If needed, I can also dispatch transport shuttles to transport wounded people to my ship's medical facilities. Glory to the Empire ! Herlock, out."

[[Commodore Herlock, this is Colonel FN-999, callsign Nines. Maintain your current position and keep your crew alert for engagement with hostile fleet and starfighter elements. Nines, out.]]

 

[Michael Barran]

2nd Post

-THE BITTER END APPROACHES-

CAIRN_ONE
RINGLEADER OF THE PELLAEONIST CLIQUE
WARDEN OF THE IMPERIAL KNIGHTS
DRUID-GRANDMASTER OF THE HIGHLAND BROTHERHOOD

TAGS
FN-999 Aoki-Barran Mira Argilac Aurelian Sigismund

HOLD THE LINE I: DEFIANT IMPERIUM - PART 2

CENTRAL TOWER, THE HAND OF THRAWN,
NEW CARANNIA, NIRAUAN (LATE 880 ABY)

'Father.'
​

'Heh! Didn't think you had it in you yet.... Proud o' you, I mean it.', the Wanderer responded, gazing on his Shadow with a newfound pride, though there was a degree of the morose, the melancholic in his words. The wars of yesteryear had left their mark on the Lord-Warden, and to such an irrevocable extreme that they had even left their mark on his adopted daughter, and regardless of whether the Empire would live or die, Michael silently vowed to himself that those responsible would pay for it with their lives eventually. Given no means of avoiding this fact, the hurt would be seen in Lord Michael's eyes as he continued,'But now, someone needs to offer you that same encouragement.', kissing his daughter on the head in the hopes she wasn't experiencing the last of the sort.

Be careful with your promises, Barran.
You're still recovering from the last one you made, remember?

A father must be alive to protect his daughter - do not forget!
​

'The advice from before was nought but the ideals to which we should still strive, the real advice comes now - so listen up an' listen up well.... In our darkest hours, our ancestors provide; an' for you, I know an entire collective will be watching.... So make them as proud as I am now.'

With a loving shoulder-to-shoulder shunt, the Wanderer left it at that, knowing better than to overload his Shadow with word-salad at the eleventh hour, knowing better than to assume she didn't know how to keep her wits in line for battle. All for the better, as unexpected arrivals bearing familiar insignia were being cleared to land within the boundaries of the Hand of Thrawn, and within moments the deep rush of dropship thrusters could be heard behind the Lord-Warden, though not without the recognisable clunk of Vandemarian battle-suits landing en masse in the courtyard around him shortly after.

In a moment when every gun is primed - aimed with intent....
Our prayers are answered, and yet....

It was the men of Zakuul who broke through enemy lines - for Imperium.
​

'An honour it is to fight here and alongside my imperial brothers again.'

Turning around, looking to find the face that fit the voice he knew, Michael put all previous political differences aside on the spot as Aurelian inquired,'Where do you need me?', understanding the honourable intentions almost immediately as he thought on how best to utilise the best attributes of Zaakul's warfighting capabilities. But Barran's thoughts were struck clean away with flashbacks of his own behaviour toward Aurelian in the past, and despite the fact it was all above the Woad's paygrade then, he couldn't help but wish he had handled the situation differently between them, a rare moment for a son of such a stubborn tribal collective. The significance of such a realisation was far from lost on the likes of the Wanderer, and especially in his dumbstruck moment of muted amazement, but if he was to have a hope of being of any use to the Griffin, then Lord Michael would need to at least try to conquer the history that hindered their future.

'Unexpected though this reacquaintance might be, its a relief nonetheless to admit it pleases me all the same.... Its an honour to have you here, all of you.'

Opting to do so with heartfelt sincerity - above all else.

'But before we begin, I must admit I regret my former actions on Krieg, I should have handled the matter with tact and compromise instead.... You deserved better, Lord Aurelian; and for that, I sincerely apologise for my obstinance - Imperial negotiations ought to be smoother after all.'

With arm outstretched between them, making a visible offer to shake hands, Barran made sure to see eye-to-eye with Sigismund before he concluded,'Now, as for the ground-war strategy, there just so happens to be a place where we're weakest here, and its not far.... But if you have further need to talk, I am open to listen, here and on the comm-link. I owe you that much at the very least, wouldn't you say?', in the spirit of common cause and newly-founded fellowship. However, other risks were incurred in letting the Griffin look him in the eye, but the Wanderer was committed to letting the Vandemarian see the truth of everything on the ground that day, careless as to whether or not the Woad-born was at risk of appearing hollow and broken within, Aurelian had a right to decide for himself.

Everyone looks broken after two wars on the trot....
Even with me, I'd be deceiving myself in thinking I wasn't affected either.

I'm not the same Michael now, but war is the only thing I know - I belong nowhere else.

​

 

[DECEASED Aron Gowrie]

3rd Post

-THE BITTER END APPROACHES-

WILDCAT_ONE
TRIBAL-CHIEFTAIN OF AN-TUATHA
LORD-GENERAL OF IMPAF
SWORD OF THE VALKYRIES

Tags : FN-999 Argilac Aoki-Barran Mira Ashel de Stilico
Albrecht F. Herlock Nukth Kelga'an Kastav Volff

TRIBULATIONS OF THE WILDCATS VIII: THE LAST TRIBULATION - PART 3

FORT DEFIANT, THE MYRMIDON QUARTER,
NEW CARANNIA, NIRAUAN (880 ABY)

'Very well.'

Since he became Baron, he has refused to believe in the prestige it has gifted him.
But now I can see - Nines is beginning to believe....

Go on, lad.... Become the legend ye were born t'be.

'Lets come up with a plan together.'
​

With little more than a glance, McGechin and Gowrie cast a knowing, relieved look in each other's direction before they both turned to nod their affirmations to Nines, offering the seat at the head of the Holomap table as they both moved to take up the seats on either side, and within moments the Holographic projections were set to bird's eye, top-down views of the New Carannia battlefront. Silent as Aron and Carwood elected to listen intently to the impending appraisal, (and consequent instructions) making a point of sitting with posture straight in readiness to carry out their orders, it would be made clear in gesture alone that the Woad and the Tuath were both well-aware of the Lord-Baron's longstanding strategic prowess, and with clean decorum they would find ease in displaying eagerness to see it in action personally.

​

"Our current formation is a defensive line encircling Fort Defiant, our center of operations." ​

"I believe it would be best to maintain this line for the time being. It has everything a defensive line should - balance, depth, and superior terrain."

"Now, let's consider our enemy."

"What the Maw lack in discipline, they more than make up for in strength and numbers. We saw this at Csilla, where they were unafraid of taking heavy casualties in order to penetrate our defensive line and deploy their elites. Given their success there, their commanders will likely take up a similar strategy here, sending wave after wave of frontal assaults at our weakest position."

"In order to counter this, I advise that we employ a defense in depth strategy. The vanguard shall hold the line until a salient is formed or the enemy achieves a breakthrough, at which point the vanguard shall withdraw to second-line fortifications where they will be reinforced by the units stationed there. Should the second line be penetrated, a third line will hold a tight perimeter around Fort Defiant."

"Additionally, if we have any hope of depleting the enemy's forces, simply shooting them with standard small-arms and artillery will not get the job done fast enough. We must exploit their elemental weaknesses to their fullest. Their light infantry and heavy bioweapons alike are highly vulnerable to fire, making flamethrowers and incendiary rounds an excellent choice. Furthermore, the effectiveness of their heavy infantry and biomechanical units are significantly reduced by EMP and ion blasts, against which they have little protection."

​

'We don't have much in the way o' supply for one or two o' those items, but I'm sure we have enough on Nirauan.... Might not be enough for a long, drawn-out fight, but this is more than achievab-'

<"Guardian One, Guardian One this is Commodore Herlock, commanding the Anaxsi Imperial ship Napoléon Bonaparte and Task Force 58 speaking. I'm here to provide air support with my ships and starfighters to your troops. Tell me where help is the most needed and I'll dispatch my forces according to your data. If needed, I can also dispatch transport shuttles to transport wounded people to my ship's medical facilities. Glory to the Empire ! Herlock, out.">
​

Even with mere inconsequential happenings, the small interruptions by way of comm-link traffic, orbital breaches by friendly contingents arriving last-minute and the likes, it was still enough for Lord Aron to know that time was rushing everyone forward with quickening momentum, marching everyone to their fates with all the care of a harsh disciplinarian. Yet despite the moments of peaceful reflection he was permitted, the Kellas was acutely aware his serene respite had to come to an end at some point, as not everyone could be afforded that beautiful silence for long, not when that inner-peace was always experienced in the moments preceding battle's bitter commencement. Soldiers had been both cursed and blessed with such calm for centuries by then, but in all those years, none could articulate exactly how or why they could remember, the memories just clung to the back of the mind without rhyme or reason.

Like puzzles left unsolved in the open, and without a single soul around to solve any of them.

​

'Ah, sorry. Just keeping a comm-unit handy so I can-'

<"Commodore Herlock, this is Colonel FN-999, callsign Nines. Maintain your current position and keep your crew alert for engagement with hostile fleet and starfighter elements. Nines, out.">

Come on, Aron.
Let 'im work.... You put that man in that exact seat for a reason.

<"Guardian One to Nines! This is Lord-Major Scott with AD-hub Command, I'm just patching through to give forewarning that I may be a little busy when the fight begins, so your continued fleet-coordination would be of great help here. And besides, when its sent on Datapad, its so much quicker, safer this way.... We trust only in what we know to be true, Milord.... Guardian One, going dark!">
​

McGechin and Gowrie would chortle in reaction to Scott expressing such fiery, enthused competence in his natural habitat, finally holding the reigns of the Empire's heaviest artillery, and for the first time in almost eight years by then. But despite the seemingly-brusque nature of the Lord-Major's reply, the two Goidelic coordinators made wordless, placatory gestures that these were, in fact, encouraging words to hear from their colleague in such times. It wasn't an everyday thing to see or hear Lord Byron so focused, and in seeing that Nines was yet to know this, the Kellas quietly remarked,'Its been quite some time since I last heard my friend taking the initiative like that, an' if ye don't mind my praise - your initiative appears to have fuelled that of Lord Byron's taking.... I'd be lying if I said I wasn't impressed, Lord-Baron.', finally letting Nines in on the little wonders that had just unfolded on the Comm-Link.

We trust only in what we know to be true
Wait.... This is from Ashlan scripture!
Byron, what did you mean by this?

Wait, you're thinking of Exegol.... Eina made believers of us both, didn't she?
​

War had always been a place of spiritual nature for Goidels, regardless of whether their tribe was the Tuathan, the Woad-Macushla or the Gaedhealtacht for that matter, all aspects of the Warrior's Crucible had held severe importance to those who willingly stormed the trenches of the Sith and Mawsworn. These tough, mountain-dwelling feudalists were always especially-attuned to the anomalous occurrences of war, but also to the striking beauty of moments that would otherwise be lost to time and obscurity, and in this unspoken understanding the Goidels shared, Lord Aron's intuition would warn that there was more to the words he had heard on the Comm-Link.

<"Colonel FN-999, IMPAF Command, this is Imperial Knight Argilac of the Crusader Chapter, leading the 5th Nirauan Militia regiments, coming in. We are all in position and ready to welcome the charge. Godspeed.">
​

'Its aw'right, lads. I'll take this one - might as well make myself useful, eh?'

<"Argilac, this is IMPAF Command! Wildcat One speaking, coordinators are setting up Holographic specifications at the moment.... But I know already that you're on Battlefront: East, an' I know its the closest in proximity to our AD-Hub - so do me a favour an' keep your men away from the surface - an' away from the windows.... I also understand there's a lot o' pressure on everyone's shoulders o'er there, but I have faith in that front. The bravest of New-Carannians support you there, but anyway.... Godspeed - an' good luck. Wildcat One, out!">

 

[Yorunarr Ahan-Yan'Sharlim]

3rd post

-THE BITTER END APPROACHES-

GODMASK_ACTUAL

LORD-CAPTAIN OF FIREDANCE BRIGADE(THE HIGHLAND BROTHERHOOD)
HIGH-SHAMAN OF THE SERENNOAN ESOTERIC CHAPTER
PRIEST-KING OF ARCHAIS

Tags: FN-999 Argilac Aoki-Barran Mira Aurelian Sigismund

FOR THE ANCIENTS II: IN THE EYES OF THE DEAD - PART 3

Fiyarro District, The Old City,
New Carannia, Nirauan (Late 880 ABY)

'Well, safe to say the lads got the rain they chanted for.... I guess the only thing left to do is prepare myself-'
​

Drinking tea from the vending machines outside Metro-Tunnel 5's entry terminal, both Godseer and Dreamseer alike were keeping their alertness at peak-level for the battle ahead, but both were opting to do so by the least-invasive means available at the time. The heavier stuff, the Mother's Root would be needed in time, but not while they enjoyed their hot beverages before battle, not while they were enjoying a Galidraani past-time together. It was a reminder of simpler times, and even though that phase of their lives had been the most uncertain of all, the mercy and kindness shown by the Galidranni Imperial-State had doubtlessly left their mark on Archais and it's Novanian population by means simple and complex in equal measure.

But near the end of their third cup each, just as they were about to slip into deeper comfort within the simplest of nostalgic joys, a strange moment of telepathic connection, hitting their minds at the very precipice of giving in to the rainfall's hypnotizing calm as it rushed over the streets above. This was an uncanny moment of shamanic magic between them, and one that both Siyarr and Yorunarr knew was not to be taken lightly, and when the latter interjected,'-Heady, your sense of timing is incredible.... But that was something - else, wasn't it?', the former would have no other option but acknowledge the sudden need to focus in a hypervigilant manner. The Priest-King and his closest friend had learned much of the many ways their Gods called to seers of their sort, but in experiencing an entirely new occurrence for the Ancients, it certainly shocked them to their souls, marking the importance of the impending preparations like they had both been slapped across their faces.

'Honestly, I was just seconds away from telling you to finish your cup.... But forget about that for a second.... Its time, and the Ancients are waiting.'

​

Without so much as a second thought, and without anything else said between each other, Yorunarr then led Siyarr back towards the other Novanians, walking deeper into Metro-Tunnel 5 in complete, empty-headed silence for a while. Before long, the sound of the distant rainstorm at the surface (pretty though it was for Novanian ears to hear) gave way to the murmur and muffled voices of the warriors and shamans preparing at the waystation, growing louder with every pace that gradually brought their commanders closer to their little outpost; and it wouldn't take long to hear what was being said between the Warseers after that, and much to the surprise of their tea-drinking compatriots, it was quite apparent the others were experiencing moments every part as uncanny as those experienced near the tunnel's terminal.

'Preacher, I think the Gods are planning something for us.... Whatever it is, please be careful.'

​

 

[Aurelian Sigismund]

AURELIAN SIGISMUND

"There is no enemy. The foe on the battlefield is merely the manifestation of that which we must overcome. He is doubt, and fear, and despair. Every battle is fought within. Conquer the battlefield that lies inside you, and the enemy disappears like the illusion he is."

Equipment: Armour | Sword | Vibro-Claw | Dual-Ranged | Bodyglove
Ship: Eternal Triumph, Pax Imperialis-class
Tags: DECEASED Aron Gowrie | Yorunarr Ahan-Yan'Sharlim | FN-999 | Ashel de Stilico | Albrecht F. Herlock | Argilac | Nukth Kelga'an

Direct Partners: Aoki-Barran Mira | Michael Barran

Post II​

THE LAST OF US
Aquila-Actual​

NIRAUAN SYSTEM, NIRAUAN, HAND OF THRAWN
{>LATE ABY 880<}

Aurelian looked down on the man of the Highland Brotherhood, the now Warden of the Empire. But only physically. Living for so long gives perspective and it does not include the prolonged or continuous grudge as an idea. People change, the Galaxy changes. Just as he fought alongside Jedi and Sith alike, he would never hesitate to praise lost friends on either side. And he would not deny a hand offered in respect and brotherhood.

"Water under the bridge, Warden. I acknowledge and accept your apology."

And he grabbed the arm like only a warrior would and looked the man in the eyes and offered a nod and spoke on with a calm voice, indicating no doubt that either of the two statements would become truth.

"Let us win this battle first and then we can talk with a glass of fine wine or whatever you choose."

The Zakuulan looked at the gathering and saw exhaustion, he felt it. The imperials were tired. It was something Aurelian had noticed in all the Empire's or military realms that passed, that rose and fell. Its warriors, mortal and humane, burned out, they were fighting and fighting to conquer and to maintain but usually they were left with little strength to keep what they had conquered. It was a shame and it was what his Project: Genesis aimed to overcome. That minds and spirits such as those of the Barrans could prevail, could live longer to guide and inspire the people of a realm and establish a foundation which would actually last.

A lasting Empire. A dream as distant as the stars were from he stood. His eyes briefly glanced upwards to where the greatest treasures were and the greatest threats.

Aurelian Sigismund had a hand for warcraft. But he was condemned to it. Everyone was.

* * *
​

Hundreds of kilometers above where the Imperator of Vandemar stood, was his flagship, the Eternal Triumph, the only ship mustered for this campaign, sitting alone above the world and ready to provide ground support as well as engage any opposing forces.

It was controlled by a GEMINI unit and communicated directly with Aurelian about all sensor and scanner readings, including the arrival of Task Force 58, which they quickly exchanged greetings and frequencies with to not accidentally fall into each others targeting roster.

On board of the Pax Imperialis-class rows of Skytroopers awakened for their deployment, both amassing near the boarding pods as well as in the hangars where they would jump into the gravity of Nirauan once the invasion begun and ready themselves to be called down by the ground troops as quick reinforcements at vital positions. They were expendable and effective, blasters, flame throwers and grenade launchers making them ideal to hold weakly armored and disorganised units for vital moments.

​