Dominion Aftershocks - BotM Dominion of Empty Hex

[The Mongrel]

In the wake of Annihilation, Chiss space burns...​

Csilla’s destruction has sent a shockwave through the Chiss Ascendancy, one both figurative and literal. The Chiss reel from the loss of their capital and homeworld, struggling to consolidate their surviving fleets and create a consensus among the Great Houses about what to do next. At the same time, a second Great Disaster has taken hold of Chiss Space. Debris from the Mercy battle station and the planet it fractured was cast into hyperspace by the superweapon’s Path Engines in the moment of their destruction. Now that debris is being thrown out into Realspace at near-lightspeed in terrifying “Emergences”, events capable of causing untold destruction.

Csilla sat at the junction of Chiss Space’s two major hyperspace lanes, the Path of the Houses and the Vagaari Corridor… and now hyperspace debris makes travel along both routes dangerous. The Brotherhood of the Maw, however, uses secret Hyperspace Paths to bypass the worst of the interference, and to strike Chiss planets while they are isolated from each other. The Brotherhood is still too depleted after the battles of Csilla and Ilum to mount a full invasion force, but they are strong enough to raid the reeling Ascendancy and seize the resources they need to rebuild. The plunder of Chiss Space will fuel their campaign against the Core Worlds.

But perhaps a few brave and vengeful heroes will stand in their way…

Locations and Objectives

Objective I - The Emergence​

The urbanized planet of Cioral, seat of House Cspala and center of the Chiss agriworld network, has just reported an imminent disaster: a major Emergence of hyperspace debris has just occurred in the system, and near-lightspeed fragments of the Mercy are starting to strike the planet’s northern hemisphere. While the fragments are too small to damage the planet itself, they could cause terrible damage and widespread death if they hit populated areas. A Brotherhood raiding fleet has arrived to take advantage of the chaos, looting Cioral’s wealthy cities and bustling spaceports.

Objective II - The Breadbasket​

The isolated planet Jamiron is utterly barren on the surface, but the innovative Chiss long ago built hydroponic farms within its porous crust, protected from the harsh sun and asteroid impacts above. Isolated by the dangers of hyperspace travel around the Csilla system, the planet has now been targeted by Maw raiders, who have arrived to seize its stocks of food and burn whatever they cannot steal. In the bellies of the Brotherhood, this food will fuel further atrocities against the people of Known Space… and without it, many Chiss refugees may starve.

Objective III - The Academy​

Rentor is an ocean world, home to a series of minor Ascendancy settlements built on floating icebergs, the only solid ground on the planet. Home to the largely insignificant Kivu family of the Chiss, it would be ignored in the politics of the Ascendancy if not for one key detail: the planet contains the military academy that produced Mitth’raw’nuruodo, better known as the infamous Thrawn. With the planet isolated by the hyperspace disturbance, a Brotherhood slaver gang has descended on Rentor, intent on capturing promising young Chiss officers to break to their will. If they succeed, they will swell their ranks with the Ascendancy's most gifted cadets.

 

[Rebirth]

​

Seated at his assigned terminal in the House Cspala compound's communications center, Trath'iril'naezo angled his chair away from his fellow holonet operators, concealing the shaking of his hands. He tried to take a deep breath, but it seemed to stick in his throat, and he had to shut his eyes and dig his fingernails into his palms to keep himself from hyperventilating. They're here. The thought ran riot through his head, over and over, frustrating his efforts to get his reeling mind under control. The Butchers of Csilla are here to keep on killing. Twelve hours earlier when the House Fleet had first been put on high alert, he hadn't believed that the day could possibly get any worse. Now, fate seemed to be taking a perverse joy in proving him wrong.

Focusing on the techniques he'd learned from CDEF instructors, Hiriln (as non-Chiss found it easier to call him) finally managed to get his breathing and his racing heart under control. There was no call for panic, not yet. The Brotherhood of the Maw was here, but they hadn't brought another planet-killing superweapon, or even an invasion fleet. The forces now descending upon Cioral were raiders, carrion beasts coming to take advantage of the danger that had befallen them earlier that day. Reaching over to his terminal, Hiriln opened a new channel on a fresh frequency, setting his message to the highest priority. Maybe this would be the one that got through, the one that brought help to their besieged planet... hopefully before it was looted and burned.

Twelve hours earlier, a strange hyperspace anomaly had ripped open in the middle of the system, and a huge quantity of debris had begun to spill out of it. Some of it was slow and unthreatening, huge chunks of rock and heavy metals that slowly drifted out of the rift - the shattered bones of the Chiss homeworld. These would eventually be consumed by the system's sun, or perhaps pulled into temporary orbit around some planet or moon. Far more concerning were the bits of metal debris, each of them only a few meters at most in diameter, but moving at near-lightspeed. They streaked across the system far, far faster than the eye could track. Many of them passed harmlessly through empty space, but others... others slammed into Cioral like hammer blows.

So far, many of the impacts had been restricted to the northern polar regions, where they left craters and kicked up huge bursts of snow but did no harm to inhabited areas. Others, though... Only an hour into the Emergence, one had slammed into an office building in one of the northern urban centers. Speed had mattered more than size in that moment. The building, though a thousand times bigger than the debris and then some, had been instantly shattered, and the ensuing shockwave of air pressure had been powerful enough to knock down duracrete overpasses and shatter transparisteel windows some ten kilometers away. The House Fleet was doing everything they could to destroy the most dangerous projectiles, but the window of interception was a fraction of a second. It was a near-impossible task.

Distress calls had started immediately, requests to all neighboring systems - and even further out, to the distant Galactic Alliance - for humanitarian aid as the disaster unfolded. But with hyperspace so disrupted, holonet communications had also been patchy and unreliable. The operators of comm centers across the planet, Hiriln included, had been working constantly for the past twelve hours to continue pumping out requests for aid on every frequency they could find. The Emergence had been unpredictable that entire time, sometimes silent for over an hour, sometimes unleashing a massive barrage in the span of a few minutes. Many more civilian habitation zones had suffered impacts. The death toll was still uncertain, but it was sure to be grim.

And now that the Brotherhood had arrived to take advantage of the chaos, it would only skyrocket from here...

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Jamiron, Landing Zone
Allies: Open
Foes: Open

Outside the viewport of the assault shuttle, the barren surface of Jamiron looked as scarred and ugly as The Mongrel himself. The thought made him chuckle, the sound odd and metallic to his own ears. The durasteel mask and cranial plate he'd been fitted with after the devastating injuries he'd suffered on Thule still felt stiff and unfamiliar, and they weren't the only thing. The marauder raised his arms in front of his face, flexing the mechanical fingers of each hand experimentally. They were crude prosthetics, making no attempt to emulate actual, living flesh with synthskin coating or sophisticated touch sensors. Instead they were powerful, with many times the strength and durability of the squishy organic bits he'd been born with.

Improvement or not, it'd take some getting used to.

But the Maw demanded endurance, the will to persevere in a galaxy built on suffering. Only by mastering that suffering could the Brotherhood crush and then reforge the galaxy, delivering all from this age of decadence and corruption. The agony he had undergone in the dark vaults beneath Holy Gehinnom had been easier to bear knowing that his cause was righteous, the only one that was righteous. His pain meant that he was alive, that he had endured the tests of the Avatars and emerged with their blessing. With the resources he had helped to steal from Felucia and Thule, the battered Brotherhood was regaining its strength. A hand, an arm, and a ruined torso had been a small price to pay to serve the True Gods so well.

He was gathering a greater following, as well. After Csilla, when he had helped to command the main assault, he had more and more often been placed as a raid leader. The troops he'd been entrusted with on Ilum, Felucia, and Enenpa had served him gladly, but he no longer had to be entrusted with them; marauders were eager to join his war party now, competing with one another to prove that they were worthy to fight and die beside him. As a veteran of every major battle the Brotherhood had fought since their great campaign began, an ordinary man who had somehow survived fighting Jedi and their ilk again and again, The Mongrel had attracted a following simply by merit of his hallowed endurance. Pain was his ally now.

He was still Bloodsworn, but perhaps not forever.

"My Scar Hounds," he called out, addressing the raiders who followed him as they clustered together in the shuttle, "hear me! The pathetic Chiss hide beneath the surface of this world. They are farmers, cowards, unworthy of your respect or your mercy. Slaughter them all. Take what they are too weak to defend. Such is the rightful way of the galaxy!" As one, his warriors lifted their weapons over their heads, shouting as if with a single voice. "Mongrel! Mongrel! Mongrel!" The name that had been his shame, a jibe thrown his way when he had been as weak and sniveling as the workers they were about to crush, had become his badge of honor, the cornerstone of his legend. Beneath his metal mask, his jagged mouth smiled.

The shuttle touched down on the surface of Jamiron, right next to the cave mouth that hid an entrance to the network of subterranean hydroponics labs they had come to plunder. Several more were behind it, each bearing a fierce warband, hungry for blood and glory. With a burst of their cannons, the shuttles blew open the heavy durasteel doors, revealing the tunnels beyond. Taking up his scattergun, The Mongrel raised it over his head. "War! Death! Rebirth!" he screamed, and his men echoed him. "War! Death! Rebirth!" The boarding ramp dropped, and the Scar Hounds rushed out of the shuttle as one, with their warleader at their head. Soon they would breach these hidden farms, and all their produce would belong to the Maw.

Their halls would run with Chiss blood.

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Location: Rentor, Academy Outskirts
Allies: Open
Foes: Open

At long last, a source of fresh slaves to break to the Taskmaster's will.

For too long, Tu'teggacha had been bound by a host of new responsibilities: overseeing raiding parties, commanding war fleets, influencing battles through the subtle twisting of minds. He had done well in these roles, to be certain, but they were not his true calling. Every moment he was away, the Ebruchi had longed to return to the dungeons of Gehinnom, where he could pursue his driving passion: the re-shaping of slaves. He was the Taskmaster, and he made worthless beings into useful servants. Yet now that he finally had time to turn to replenishing the ranks of the Brotherhood's lowest rung, he found that he had a problem: a lack of raw materials. The Brotherhood's raids on Thule and Felucia had brought back valuable resources, but few captives.

Fortunately for Tu'teggacha, a new opportunity to gather living cargo had presented itself: the isolated Chiss planet Rentor, home to the military academy that had produced the legendary Thrawn himself. With such quality raw materials, the Taskmaster was certain that he could create excellent slave-soldiers for the Maw. But first, he would have to catch them, and that meant leading one final raiding party before he could settle into the work of tearing the weakness from minds and replacing it with devotion. That was why he had boarded this assault shuttle, accompanied by the deadly Legion of the Leech. The lugubraa would crush all resistance that lurked among the planet's frozen seas, and he would have his pick of the survivors.

All buildings on Rentor sat atop icebergs, for there was no solid land to be found on the ocean world. Chiss engineers had cleverly implanted coolant machines into the floating ice, ensuring that they remained buoyant and fully frozen no matter what was built onto and into them. House Kivu, the obscure local branch of Chiss aristocracy, had created their prestigious military academy by joining together several large icebergs - five of them floated around a massive central berg, all connected by sturdy bridges, like the spokes and rims of a wheel. Bright young Chiss cadets moved from iceberg to iceberg and classroom to classroom, learning history, tactics, and military theory. They would be needed now more than ever, in this darkest of days for the Ascendancy.

Unfortunately for them, the Brotherhood had other plans.

The academy, of course, was a military installation, and that meant it was not undefended. Tu'teggacha's shuttle rocked and bounced as turbolaser fire flew past it, slowly dropping off as Brotherhood fighter-bombers targeted and destroyed each defensive emplacement in turn. Softening up the outer defenses wouldn't be the hard part, though. The instructors here were veterans of the Chiss Expeditionary Defense Force, men and women who had served on the furthest frontiers of the Ascendancy and faced countless terrible threats. They would organize the defense of this place with every bit of their tactical knowledge, exploiting every resource available to them to the fullest. Only the full fury and cunning of the Maw could overcome that.

The assault shuttle set down on one of the outer icebergs, the first (and so far only) landing zone they'd managed to clear. "Establish a beachhead," the Taskmaster ordered, and the Legion of the Leech scrambled to obey. Lamprey-like lugubraa swarmed out of the transport, laying down covering fire with their heavy repeaters as they advanced. The Ebruchi followed behind, once the immediate area was safe; he was no warrior, and relied on others to take and give out each blow in his battles. He did not even carry a weapon, for he would be no use in wielding it. His gifts, and his danger, were invisible, blades of memory and dark influence that he wielded with his mind - and directed inside the minds of others. The Legion would handle the rest.

As the lugubraa mercenaries cleared the courtyard, leaving Chiss bodies strewn in elegant reflecting pools and beneath the landing pads, Tu'teggacha heard alarms blaring throughout the academy. With an agitated twist of his facial tendrils, he started his internal clock. Like all raids, this was a race against time. Rentor was isolated, especially so given the hyperspace disruption, but as soon as its distress call was heard, the CEDF would scramble whatever reinforcements it could - almost certainly enough reinforcements to scatter this little raiding party. The race was on to overcome whatever defenses the Chiss master tacticians could throw up in front of them before those reinforcements arrived. Inwardly, the Taskmaster smiled.

He was going to relish the challenge almost as much as the spoils.

 

[CETCOM]

COPERO , CHISS SPACE
OBJECTIVE | BYOO - CRIPPLE THE COPERO SHIPYARDS
TAGS | OPEN

Copero , home to the largest Shipyards in Chiss Space and the very heart of the Chiss War Machine. In the wake of the destruction of Csilla , the Chiss Ascendancy had been left broken but it's Military-Industrial Complex had been left mostly intact. And while Chiss Space was in disarray , the CEDF still posed a major threat to the Brotherhood of the Maw's Plans to further expand in Chiss Space in order to prepare for the conquest of the Core Worlds.

Thus , the Brotherhood launched a new offensive targeting various planets to further weaken the Chiss and consolidate their position in the Unknown Regions and while Rentor , Jamiron and Cioral were the main targets , the Final Dawn had different ideas. In order to support the Mawite attacks on Rentor , Jaimron and Ciroral , Marlon Sularen had directed his Forces of the Hand of Purification to Copero in order to launch a Strike at the Copero Shipyards and limit the CEDF's ability to wage war on the Brotherhood of the Maw. If the Maw Irregular Fleet could cripple or even destroy the Shipyards then it would deny the Chiss , New Imperials or even the Galactic Alliance from a potentially useful asset.

As a result a Flottila of Warships comprising of the Nemisis , 5 Avenger-Class SDs and 2 Veles and Crucifix-Is each had been sent to Copero in order to carry out the raid under the command of none other then High Overseer Traaval Pryce , Marlon Sularen's Subordinate within the Final Dawn. Their objective was clear , cripple the Copero Shipyards and divert the attention of the CEDF to Copero. And thus , this Flottila jumped out of hyperspace arriving at Copero ready to launch their devastating raid on the Copero Shipyards...

 

[Irratar Hemstagon]

Allies: -
Enemies: -

Her thin black fabric cloak flows down her skeletal, deeply scarified palms like a lover's touch. The long curved nails reach out to the small skull, resting over the onyx altar. A child's skull. Judging by the very shape and still gored blood it carried, it would be anyone's guess how recently the skin and flesh was removed from the bone... She lets her fingers touch, exploring its shape, as her face tilts, revealing before the dim light of the torchfire her emptied eye sockets, and the tattooed scars of the resemblance of the tears of blood. Wicked, in her beauty; Unnerving, be her breathing...

"Cioral shall burn... and all the Chiss shall Weep..."

THEME

Irratar Hemstagon 's palms slowly are brought one atop the other, as he rests them over the spiked hilt. The weight of the many rings decorating his fingers pushes the pale arms down against the dark deck of the Blood Spear... His eyes fiery, casting a shadow over the sadistic smirk forming onto his unexistent lips... A flash of light blazes the transparresteel of the bridge's viewport, as the Chiss warship is split in two by the ramming of the Blood Spear, breaking through the atmosphere as it engulfs the wreckage in fire.

Several Athysian warships slide through the void, as a cataclysm of dropships and transport shuttles blaze like a meteor swarm amidst the descending debris over the cities of Cioral, shined by the beams of the orbital cannons of their capital ships, which lay a savage strike upon the Chiss remnant defenses... softening the foe, for the hell that shall follow...

Swarm after swarm, the Athysian corsairs send forth their vanguard. The concrete quakes by the harsh landing of the dropships. From above, the Starbanes open their blastdoors for the Edikar to jump out in their hundreds, flying down the planetside with their missile backpacks, covered by the constant fire of the shuttles' gunners and fighters that launch deadly dives against the Chiss defense turrets and artillery emplacements...

The city lies aflame; Debri, pushed by the Athysian fire towards the outskirts, deny any exit from the siege, while the aerial strikes ravage the ground defences, all the while occasional orbital strikes vaporize whole blocks, silencing thousands under their momentay blaze.

Blades shine; Blood splatters; Screams deafen; The Hemstagon Raider Fleet attacks, as the jammers of the Ignisirs throw the communications of the planet in a dread silence...

"Cioral shall Burn" she muttered, as she knelt before the altar.
"And all the Chiss shall weep of the Coming of the Ancient Ones' fury"

 

[Eldervine]

"No."

The voice echoed through the bridge as a different being slipped from the vents. Crawling, reforming. Standing. Eyelessly the humanoid form of the Eldervine watched the destruction below. The terrible maw of the Drengir curled in a toothy grin. The Drengir already made their way towards the city, using the chaos to slip into the city. Through the ground, behind enemy lines. Devouring the innocent.

The Eldervine stood tall, feeling the harvest through the others.

"Cioral and all who inhabit it shall be harvested. It will be bountiful. Let none escape this planet."

 

[Eliz Krayt]

Tags: The Mongrel

Not again.

Csilla was dead. His father's homeworld, shattered. And now the very remains were hitting another Chiss World. Worse, the Brotherhood came with it. Their plan to siege the world. Kill more of the Chiss. More of his people. Eliz sat among a family of farmers, a Charric Sniper in his lap. The Chiss were a strong people, built on war. Decades fighting the Vong had every man, woman, and child prepared to fight. But the loss of Csilla was a death blow. The Maw was here.

And Eliz could already see the defeat on the faces of those with him. They couldn't escape. And what was the point of fighting? The CDF was all but destroyed and scattered. There was no rescue. Eliz was the only one here who could help. So, he was. "Get your kids on the ship. When they come, I'll draw their attention. When it's clear, hit the stealth and get out of here."

His voice echoed from his helmet. He was in full Beskar'gam, Mandalorian through and through. The mother simply nodded as she ushered the kids along. The father remained, however, picking up his own Charric rifle. Eliz reached up, lowering the gun. "Go with your family. You don't need to die for them today."

No child should be without their parents. And Eliz would make sure of it. He lifted the rifle, his helm connecting to the scope as he leveled a shot. And fired. The streak of blue ripped through the air, the impact blowing one of the first of the Maw off their feet. Sans a head. Then another, and another. He took advantage of the range, of the underground. One Mandalorian against an army of savages.

Time to see if he could hold his own.

 

[Kadann]

The Chiss were not trusting at the best of times. After Csilla they had barely been willing to let him land. Kadann sat quietly close to the hydroponics labs. The Force had guided him here. Kadann had always possessed a strong prescience.

It manifested in different ways, from avoiding blaster bolts to being on the right world at the right time. If the farms were razed then the entire civilisation would be close to collapse. Perhaps he couldn't prevent that, but maybe he could deal with a few more champions of the dark side.

He could feel it now: the pull of the darkness. He didn't know whether it was some aspect of the Force or simply a part of his own psyche he had never heard before. That was a question for philosophers and he had no time for that any more. Kadann had come out of retirement when he felt Csilla burn. Since then he had put several sith in the ground, a few murdered in cold blood. He couldn't possibly have avoided the pull of the darkness after that.

This journey would consume him, one way or another. The light had been too slow to act, too forgiving. That was the thought that had brought him out of retirement. If the darkness could be held at bay, it wasn't enough to hold the line. They had to shine a light on every dark corner of the galaxy until not a single sith remained.

He sensed the moment coming. The dark side encroached on this world. Kadann remained quite still, quite serene. He had accepted his purpose, knowing that walking in shadow would be the end of him.

 

[Andromach Hemstagon]

​

Theme

The Chiss woman bursts in cries of despair as she struggles to crawl towards the fallen blaster against the concrete. The dense smoke of the fires shroud the narrow bunker room, while fallen corpses and blood-splattered equipment decorate the floors... The Chiss pulls herself with her bleeding arms, while her shattered legs leave a trail of blood against the concrete ground. Following the trail, is the crimson-armored figure of the Polemarch, approaching with slow pacing as her body is revealed behind the smoke. Her kill-craving witch-blade held, still wet by the blood of the last soul it claimed.... As the Chiss' palm reaches the fallen blaster, the sudden pierce of the curved sword, splitting the spinal bones shall end the suffering of the fallen... Andromach Hemstagon 's eyes burn fiery, with her face drained of all emotion. She walks towards the broken down door, only to gaze down to the corsairs and the warriors of the Hemstagons that had gathered around the baily of the fortress by the hundreds. Blood; Limbs; Debri and death scattered all across the field of what once was the guardian of the city below... The hide-covered Black Valkyrie warrior-queen walks up the wide stairway, facing Andromach. "It is over, Polemarch"

Several dozens of the Chiss troops were forced on their knees, with the Hemstagon gunpoint against their necks. Andromach Hemstagon looks around, her gaze turning to the large city below, already engulfed in flames by the bombardment and the sky-borne debri. She smiles, for a short moment's triumph.

"What are you waiting for, then!? TAKE WHATS THEIRS! BURN ALL WHATS LEFT!"

The numberless hosts of the Hemstagons unleashed. Rushing across the streets, dragging women, children and men alike across the city in bounds, while every building is torn apart. Shuttles and large cargo ships are flying down the atmosphere, while the pillage continues. By the hundreds, the peoples of Cioral are whipped into endless lines, chained and loaded onboard the slaver ships...

Alas... the Warrior-Queen of the Valkyries approaches the large square made by the hundreds of the Chiss captive troops in the fortress... Several Edikar warriors are deployed all around them and atop the walls, while the Valkyrie warrioresses stand at the back, mounted on their nightmarish Naktidis Beasts... Waiting...

"For thy name, the All-Mother, this world, we offer"

Irratar Hemstagon intones, as he turns around, facing the beastial abomination that suddenly emerged on the bridge of the Blood Spear. The operators take heart, bracing themselves as the witness the scene. Once again, however, Irratar stood with his head tall before Eldervine . His eyes fiery, while his ring-weighted fingers spread, as if they welcomed the creature on deck. As if he himself, expected it to emerge...

"The Ancient Ones have granted our warriors the strength to claim the victories we had in this campaign. Now, we shall venerate their names through the sacrifices we deliver. Everlasting One; Gold and kyber, iron and feast. Spoils be ours; Prize of our struggles. Life, be yours. Seed to your hunger."

The Athysians move back, while the Chiss captives scream. The Polemarch only observed, from the distance, while the cold iron hooks were passed through the Chiss' wrists, bleeding them as they were hanged by them atop the tubes and pipelines of the city's infrastructure... A grotesque memory for one to carry.. Blood flowing like river down the ash-piled drains, while the Chiss cried in a chorus of martyrdom, as their bodies were flogged, scarified by patterns of holy symbols and summoning prayers, carved against the bleeding skin before applied with salt, to cause only further suffering to the victim by the Athysians. They were then left hanging, hooked by wrists and ribs, under the pipelines... And so,.... the roaring sounds of the approaching abominations start echoing in the streets... The brave Edikar and Valkyrie warriors of the polemarch stood across the walls and the building tops, skirmishers... A perfect trap, one could think.... And yet... It was so... so much worse than that...


As the monsterous hordes approach, Andromach Hemstagon sheathes her blade and nods her head in respect, as she observes... The Sacrifice.... To the Athysian Dark Gods....

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Jamiron, Landing Zone
Allies: Open
Foes: Eliz Krayt | Kadann

At first, it seemed that the Jamiron colony would offer no challenge whatsoever. It was not a military outpost, and it sat smack dab in the middle of Ascendancy space, a single hyperjump from Csilla; no one had ever thought it would need much of a garrison. Its inhabitants were mostly the farmers and technicians who operated the hydroponics, simple men and women living quiet lives as cogs in the great Chiss machine. Many of them didn't even have weapons, or know how to use them. What possible resistance could they offer against the veteran raiders of the Brotherhood?

There was little glory in such an easy slaughter... and so The Mongrel was almost relieved when sniper fire began picking off the warriors charging at his side.

The charge was the most dangerous and uncertain phase of any battle. Marauders excelled in close combat, where their brutal scatterguns and melee weapons could carve through their foes in seconds, but while they ran to close the distance, they were vulnerable. Few carried weapons with effective ranges longer than five or ten meters, and for all the allies and auxiliaries they had added to their ranks over the course of their conquests, none were gifted snipers. As a result, a significant portion of the marauder casualties in any Brotherhood raid came in the opening sixty seconds.

By the time he set foot on Jamiron, The Mongrel had survived many charges. In part it was due to clever tactical positioning, and in part due to his equipment and armor... but some of it could only be the result of the blessing of the Avatars, for there was no explicable reason he had survived so often on the front lines. Once again, the Dark Three showed him their favor. A warrior went down on his left, head vaporized in a burst of blue energy. Another fell on his right, and another... but the advance continued. A lone sniper could not even begin to halt the momentum of the Bloodsworn.

The raiders crashed into the tunnels like the tide rushing into a coastal cave, filling the space with their howling and chanting - their dark prayers echoed through the endless halls and chambers that honeycombed the planet's porous crust. Their initial goal was simple: to kill as many Chiss as they could before they reached the hangars. It would be simple to loot the facility of its produce once all the occupants were dead. Perhaps a few shuttles would be permitted to escape, allowing a handful of terrified survivors to carry word of the latest Maw atrocity to the rest of the reeling Ascendancy.

Fear was a powerful weapon in their arsenal.

For his part, The Mongrel cast around for the sniper. Someone had been brave enough to stand against them, and that was far more interesting than hunting down defenseless farmers through this subterranean labyrinth. Perhaps the mysterious foe would even put up enough of a fight that it would be worth glory to take his head. The veteran marauder had promptly lost his near-new dread blade during his brush with death on Thule, but he had plenty else in his arsenal. Letting his scattergun hang from its shoulder strap, he drew a long vibroknife in one hand and a heavy blaster pistol in the other.

"Come out and face me, little sniper," he howled, his voice mocking as he hunted through the tunnels. "You're going to die sooner or later. You might as well do it standing. Earn a worthy death; it's better than being dragged out of your hiding hole and shot as a sniveling coward." The scanners in his new mask's visor went to work, scanning for life forms and heat signatures, helping him to narrow down where the foe who'd killed his men might be firing from. Not only would he have some fun fighting this worthy foe, he would also prevent the enemy from slaying any more marauders.

Had he known a Jedi was also present, he would have been both more cautious and more eager for the test of martial skill...

 

[Maestus]

Maestus strode behind Tu'teggacha as he disembarked from the assault shuttle. Again, the damnable ice and cold. The glare from her eyes shot to their surroundings informed any and all to her feelings on this weather. She wore a heavy cloak, and had the hood pulled low over her eyes for as much warmth as could be found.

Once off the ramp, she paused to survey the area. As Tu'teggacha gave orders, she simply nodded. She had no interest in countermanding anything right now. He had proven himself a competent leader on a ship, commanding the Fatalis during the destruction of Csilla. After such a cataclysmic event, it was a wonder the ship was in one piece at all.

After we have finished, I'm spending a year on Mustafar just to defrost.

Did she....Maestus....Did the Sith Lord really just.....make a joke?

The apocalypse is truly upon them.

Back to business. She turned to face Tu'teggacha squarely.

What are your plans, Taskmaster? ​

​

 

[Alars Keto]

"No."

The voice slithered into his skull with no recourse, “Get out of my head!”

It had been sometime since Crakull had fell, since then he had discovered the pain that came with power, raw tangible power. The Force was still an enigma to him but now he could feel it’s unearthly flow coursing through him. The Dark Side of the Force has touched him, he could feel it always. His thoughts were influenced around it, guided by an unknown will.

The call had come and he had answered.

The Drengir already made their way towards the city, using the chaos to slip into it’s expanse and gather that which they . Through the ground, behind enemy lines. Devouring the innocent.

The Eldervine stood tall, feeling the harvest through the others.

"Cioral and all who inhabit it shall be harvested. It will be bountiful. Let none escape this planet."

“I don’t understand.”

The Drengir aided the MAW, they were brought to feast on dozens of worlds as the horde of cultists spread from system to system so too did the Drengir’s vile reach.

Whatever vile connection he had experienced with the Eldervine still lingered in a loose tether. He felt the tug against his psyche and was reminded of who his true master really was.

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Location: Rentor, Academy Outskirts
Allies: Maestus
Foes: Open

The Taskmaster snorted at Maestus's remark. The Brotherhood did seem to have been particularly active on ice planets in the course of their recent campaign: Csilla, Ilum, and now Rentor. Tu'teggacha wrapped his own robes more tightly around his body, feeling the chill wind that swept across the frozen seas. This Chiss themselves did not seem particularly bothered by the cold; perhaps the near-humans had adapted to such temperatures over the course of their evolution. The Ebruchi resolved to vivisect a few captured subjects to study their flesh, and perhaps to test the limits of their cold tolerance.

"The equipment here is mostly training-caliber, and of little value to us," he replied, turning to face the warlord of the Chosen. "The true prize here is the personnel. I have issued electro-net guns, stun batons, and disabling blasters to many of our marauders. Our goal is simple: to storm each iceberg and to take as many of these Chiss alive as possible." A little gleam came alive in his dark, bulbous eyes as he spoke, a spark of eagerness for the slave-breaking process that would soon follow. Then he shrugged. "Of course, we cannot transport them all anyway. Do what you must if attacked."

One of the greatest assets Tu'teggacha had managed to acquire for his slave-hunters was a shipment of deck sweeper blasters, the infamous "stun shotguns" designed to incapacitate multiple targets at once. In the tight confines of the academy's bridges and corridors, they would wreak havoc among the Chiss defenders, allowing them to be easily scooped up and clapped in irons. The wide array of stun weaponry, however, left the marauders with a key vulnerability... one that these tactically-minded Chiss were already working to take advantage of. Stun weapons would have no effect on inorganic targets.

That was why it was so good to have Maestus along.

As the marauders secured the landing pads, killing or capturing everyone in their way, a loud clanking echoed up from the bridge to the central iceberg. Tu'teggacha's facial tendrils wriggled into a frown, and he scrambled forward, his stumpy little legs propelling him to a viewpoint that overlooked the crossing. It was bad news. A pair of AT-ST walkers were crossing the bridge, accompanied by a small phalanx of combat droids. In an ordinary battle, the Taskmaster would have ordered PLX-armed troopers forward to destroy the enemy armor, but they had not brought such heavy weapons with them this time.

They would have to rely on the brutal power of the warlord.

"I must beg of you, Warlord Maestus," Tu'teggacha called back to the Twi'lek, "hold off these enemy forces! We will finish capturing this outer iceberg and all those within it, but we cannot easily withstand this armored assault without your help." As marauders spilled into the hangars and repair bays below the upper landing pads, capturing technicians and hacking down repair droids, the enemy security force moved swiftly to restore order. This was their best chance to defeat the Brotherhood attack before it could spread throughout the corridors of the academy, and they intended to seize it.

 

[Kadann]

The chanting echoing down the tunnels was inevitable. The chiss in this sector had believed his warning enough to make preparations. When the burst of cronau radiation had signalled the arrival of the raiding fleet they had put those plans in motion.

The plantmatter was vital. The equipment they used was even more important. If they could hide it or get it off-world then production could start again. They needed time.

Kadann drew himself to his feet. His lightsaber remained loose in his right hand. His left hand opened up. The ground trembled and broke apart around his feet. Chips of stone slowly rose to form a rough band around him before starting to rotate. Faster and faster they orbited the Jedi master.

Whooping and hollering, the marauders charged down the corridor. Kadann punched forwards with an empty fist. A dozen stone chips shot out of the shield and downed the first wave.

 

[Onasius Gruwel]

Allies: The Mongrel
Enemies: Kadann Eliz Krayt

It had been far too long since Onasius had felt the warm blood of an enemy spill over his body. He had come back out of hiding in the galaxy in the last few weeks and the Brotherhood of the Maw was the first group that was willing to accept him. He had cut his ties to the Sith that trained him before, it was time in his life to look for something more, and the typical structure of the Sith only limited his potential. He had dropped down on Jamiron with one who referred to himself as Mongrel. The smell of bloodlust and death aboard the craft as it landed was intense, burning the Sith’s nostrils. Increasing his own bloodlust, feeding into his need to kill. The troops around him came from all different backgrounds, some of them looked humanoid, some looked all together alien. The Yevetha assassin situated himself toward the middle back end of the troops, attempting to blend in as much as possible.

He joined in on the chants when prompted and checked his equipment before they landed. He had his two basic tonfa lightsabers equipped and ready at his disposal. One of the best parts about his new crew as opposed to the Sith was they were far more excited about close quarter combat which was Onasius’s specialty. As the ship lowered itself and shot a hole into the underground bunker before him, the Sith Knight let out a blood curdling scream before leaping forth and rushing into the underground Chiss holding. He would feel the warm sensation of battle again, and he would die an honorable death if he were to be slain this day. For himself, or for the Brotherhood. He hadn’t been too indoctrinated into the belief systems of the Maw, but he was curious enough to follow if it meant he was able to commit wholesale slaughter on the peoples of the galaxy.

As they punched their way through the doors and into the underground tunnels, Onasius dodged a few blaster bolts flying toward them from a sniper of some kind. He used his attunement with the Force to know when to duck, narrowly missing a few shots aimed at him. There was another powerful presence in the bunker, one that felt like a beacon of light. This anomaly drove Gruwel wild, sending fire through his veins, and pushing hatred through his body. His actions would mimic this darkness as he bathed himself in the Dark Side of the Force to counter the light. Extending his dew claws to their full two and a half feet, he dragged them against the side of the bunker, the beskar dipped claws causing sparks as they cut in. Another bloodthirsty roar boomed from his talon laced jaw and he was ready to kill.

 

[Maestus]

She walked with Tu'teggacha to the cliff, and followed his gaze. Two walkers. Hmmm. She should be able to buy the boys enough time. It would not be easy, and walkers don't bleed. Much to her chagrin.

But their drivers do.

Get moving, Taskmaster. I will buy you and your men time.

Once Tu'teggacha and his men moved off, only then would Maestus rise and begin walking down the hill. Directly towards the path of the AT-STs. As she moved, she breathed in deep. Drawing the Dark Side of the Force into her body, even deeper than it already was. She willed it to strengthen her body as well as her mind and will. She could feel herself becoming stronger, faster, more durable. All would be needed in this battle. ​

​

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Location: Rentor, Academy Outskirts
Allies: Maestus
Foes: Open

Maestus made her promise, and Tu'teggacha nodded, secure in the knowledge that the mighty warlord would hold the Chiss response at bay. He had seen her fight across many worlds, and he knew her prowess well. Clever and tactical though their enemies might be, he was confident that she would defeat them through sheer dark power and violent will. That left him to complete the primary task: the swift and systematic takeover of the academy, starting with this hangar iceberg. It was where engineering and gunnery officers practiced their trades, learning the specifications of every bit of Ascendancy equipment.

Such deep technical knowledge would be valuable to the Maw.

As Maestus stepped out onto the bridge, twenty combat droids snapped their blasters up in her direction, driven by their military programming to clear away all unauthorized visitors to the military school. In the midst of this detachment walked the pair of AT-STs, clomping over the bridge's durasteel surface with thundering steps. Missile and grenade launchers, standard attachments on many scout walkers, would have caused too much damage to the academy's structures, so these vehicles had been fitted with heavy repeating blaster cannons on the sides of their "heads" rather than the standard heavier weapons.

All at once, all these defenders began to fire at the Twi'lek Sith.

For his part, the Taskmaster descended into the iceberg, following the marauders that formed the tip of his spear. Corridors rendered in perfectly straight lines and sharp angles led to classrooms, repair bays, and vaulted hangars. A few more guard droids had patrolled these halls, but the marauders had swiftly hacked them down with vibroblades, then moved on to take down whatever living beings they encountered with their stun weapons. Already a steady stream of Chiss instructors and students, caught unaware by the attack, were being clapped in magna locked manacles and dragged back to the shuttles.

Most of the academy's residents had been able to fall back to the other icebergs, and were no doubt setting up defensive chokepoints and traps to slow the Brotherhood warriors down. But as the servants of the Maw cleared this first iceberg top to bottom, ensuring with life form scanners - and Tu'teggacha's ability to sense the fear of those hiding - to ensure that no one was missed, they were still making progress. They would drive these cadets out of each of their safe places, one at a time, until there was nowhere left to go... and no one would be able to slip through their fingers. The Maw would not be denied.

Soon they would move to the next iceberg, the dormitories...

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Jamiron, Landing Zone
Allies: Onasius Gruwel
Foes: Eliz Krayt | Kadann

Try as he might, The Mongrel could not find the accursed sniper. He snarled in frustration, the sound emerging from his durasteel mask as a strange fusion of animal growl and grinding metal. The Chiss were certainly playing to their strengths, using range and stealth to compensate when faced with the superior numbers and melee strength of the Brotherhood's marauder horde. Perhaps he would encounter the coward later, when the raiding party had pushed deeper into the facility and there were fewer places left to hide. For now, the warleader would simply press the attack, moving down the tunnels.

They had to prevent the goods from escaping.

Although he did not understand the strange magics of Jedi and Sith, The Mongrel was pleased to have Onasius Gruwel along with him. The bestial Yevetha would have been deadly enough with his claws alone, but the laser-swords he carried only increased the damage potential of his raging, bloodthirsty attacks. The Bloodsworn raid leader seriously doubted that there was anything on this backwater planet that could challenge him, let alone Onasius, but he was open to being surprised. With the raid fleet moving into blockade positions, they would soon ensure that everyone here had to face them.

Indeed, the Maw vessels were doing their utmost to cut off all avenues of retreat, and not just through strategic positioning. The Mongrel felt the tunnels shake as orbital fire streamed down, blowing apart hangar bays and tunnel entrances. Thanks to the knowledge recovered from the Expeditionary Library when Khaostra Devoid sacked it, the Brotherhood had the precise schematics to this facility, and was using them to the fullest. When the bombardment was completed, and it would be within the hour, the only remaining entrance would be the one through which the raiders had entered.

As the Bloodsworn pressed deeper, The Mongrel beheld a strange sight indeed. The front rank of his marauders suddenly dropped, twisting and jerking as they fell. Their bodies had been pierced by chips of cavern stone, shot through them at high speed as if from the barrel of a slugthrower. Rounding the corner, the raid leader beheld the source: an old man surrounded by a storm of floating stone, an azure lightsaber clutched in one hand. "Ah," The Mongrel sneered, "a Jedi." There had been a time when encountering one of the mystic warriors had filled him with fear, but that time was past now.

He had held his own in battle against many Jedi.

It was unfortunate that his dread blade had been lost on Enenpa; he would have to earn another soon, so that he could lock blades with one of these mage-knights once again. His vibroknife was cortosis-coated, enough to withstand a saber impact if it came down to it, but he'd seen on Csilla that the sloppy coating would only hold up against a handful of such blows before the laser-sword cut through it. Besides, his knife did not have the reach that a lightsaber had. No, he would not duel this Jedi up close except as a last resort... but he knew someone who would. Looking back up the tunnel, he beckoned.

"Come, Onasius. I have found one worthy of your skill."

 

[Eliz Krayt]

Tags: The Mongrel | Onasius Gruwel | Kadann

Coward, huh?

Eliz kept quite the blank expression even as he reloaded his rifle to take another shot. He was making use of his armor's stealth capabilities to get from point to point. Keeping them guessing on just where he might be. Not that it stopped some from almost finding him. They're numbers were far to great for him to take on alone this way.

So he made use of his other skills. To many, he was only a kid. To his people, he was a warrior. Stripped of the Force and enhanced to a super human level. His blade ripped through flesh with ease. He brought around his pistol in such a way he might as well have seemed to be six people firing. He'd clear out the smaller groups that got too close to him.

Then he was gone again, blending into the shadows to find a new perch to fire down upon the encroaching raiders. He needed to buy that family enough time to get out. What better way than to piss off the one calling him coward?

From a new perch he lined up a shot, blowing off the head of one of the men close to the Mongrel.

Come and get me, savage.