All Shall Burn

[Progflaw99]

​

​

​

“I am the punishment of God...If you had not committed great sins, ​

God would not have sent a punishment like me upon you.”​

~ Genghis Khan​

​

Ansion had come a long way over the last 800 years, but even still the planet was like taking a step back in time. Much labor was done manually or by utilizing the most rudimentary of machines. A military port of call it was not, the development on the surface geared towards trade and commerce. In fact the unofficial Capital, Cuipernam, was the central trade hub. While it only sported one spaceport, a sprawling track of landing pads and wheeled vehicles aided in transporting goods back and forth from ship to market. Even during the days of the Empire of old, Ansion had been referred to as a backwater and backwards world. In some ways that still held true. Bartering was the predominant method of acquisition, a solid price rarely existed except on the most common of items, even then, most traders and merchants found the barter system much more beneficial.

And so it was, the markets had opened just like the day previous - the general clamor filling the air. Ansionian's filled the marketplace as the predominant race, however in a trade town such as Cuipernam a person could be just as likely to see an entire diorama of various races. The smell of various foods filled the air, some more fragrant than others. Towards one end of the market, seated at a table positioned just outside one of food stalls, a small shrewish looking man watched the crowds with beady eyes. These people were going about there business as they no doubt had hundreds even thousands of times - all clueless as to what was near to happen. A smirk tugged at the corner of his thin lips, a quivering tongue wetting his lips as he glanced at his wrist. Eyes briefly making contact with the chrono, he reached into his pocket and depressed a small button. With his mission complete, he rose quickly and stepped off into the crowd. He didn't want to be here when it happened.

​

​

​

There was nothing uniform about the group of ships headed towards Ansion, except for their purpose. An amalgamation of 'Uglies' and refitted cargo haulers, it was far from a battle fleet, but this far out towards the Unknown Regions it wasn't going to matter. Venturing out from Hadante, the Dread King had set his sights on the poorly defended world. Practically next door in the galactic sense, it had taken a short time to travel, but even so they had sent scouts ahead. Presently, the small flotilla awaited the signal, carefully positioned behind a large moon. Here their vessels would remain undetected, at least until the moment had come.

A shrill chirp sounded on the bridge of The Harvester. A modified KR-TB "Doomtreader", it was the Dread King's personal vessel. Armor plates had been reinforced, cargo bays replaced with larger power generators and weapons systems. Even so, it carried a cabal of the warlord's personal guard. Painted blood red, the vessel stood out amongst the others, not only its design but the giant symbols painted upon its hull. Seated at the controls, Moloch's eyes darted to the screen. A signal had been received, not just any signal, but the signal. Now was the time to strike. There was no objective, there was no goal to be completed except to bring the taste of chaos to an otherwise quiet world. It was the natural state of existence, why should it not return? It was the right of the strong to rule over the weak, it was the right of strong to be served by those too weak to keep themselves from being subjugated. They didn't deserve to be free - no, they would serve the Dread King and his Lords of Chaos.

With a short input of data on the console ahead of him, he relayed the commands on an open channel to the rest of their fleet and the unsuspecting planet below. As the message was transmitted, the Lords of Chaos would descend their vessels upon the planet and destroy all who stood in their path.

:: Ansion. Hear this. Your shrines will burn, your streets run with blood, your false idols shattered, your people slaughtered by the thousands, your very planet torn apart… and the barest fraction of my hatred will be satisfied. I am the Dread King, and you shall know my name by the horrors I inflict upon you. I am Chaos. ::​

OOC:

Spoiler

Hello! Welcome to the first ever thread of the minor faction "The Lords of Chaos"! This is a PvE thread, where we each write up our own opposition, however if anyone is interested in PvP, you are invited to PM the writers here and ask if they are open to it. If you don't belong to the Faction, you may PM me to request permission to join, I would recommend having a few ideas of how you can be woven into the story. If you'd like to join the faction or are curious, feel free to PM me as well or stop by our Faction Discord which can be found on our Faction Forums. Have fun, and remember that the goal is chaos. Keep it appropriate and within the rules of the board as far as graphic content, otherwise - have fun!

 

[Darth Athora]

Chaos is a ladder..



The overwhelming feeling that plagued Cadyssia since the day she fought, bled, and killed for her freedom from slavery under the Graug Empire was the need and lust to cause others pain and misery. Even more pain and misery than she felt as a slave. Since that day, she has gathered enough strength to cause some strife in the galaxy but not near enough as she had imagined she would have at this point in time. Since her life in chains, she had been searching for her place in the galaxy. Her time in the Confederacy was pointless. Their wish for peace and heavily anti-slavery morals went against her demeanor greatly. It was not long before she left them. She even made off with one of their ships, which is what she was arriving to Ansion aboard currently.

Aboard this vessel were a few toys she had gathered throughout the years. There was a battalion of Graug infantry, about 60 strong, ready to be deployed and serve their mistress' will. Along with the graug were about 100 clankers in the cargo hold, awaiting activation. Cady had come prepared. Cady was prepared to usher in a new era on this world. One where fear is more important than food or water.

One where chaos reigns.

[member="Moloch"]

 

[Progflaw99]

​

"Long shall be your suffering. Joyous be your pain."​

~ Asteroth, Daemon Prince of Slaanesh​

​

For every King, a Queen - and a Queen she was. The story of how she had become the Dread King's Queen was a lengthy one, one that was whispered in the dark around a campfire, by all accounts it was merely myth - and yet she was a living and breathing person. Some might have said the stories were exaggerated but all it took was one look at her marred features to realize the true horror - that the stories hadn't been exaggerated at all, in fact likely played down. Two vertical lines of stitches snaked from Revana's hairline to her neck, the flesh on either side of her face pale and ghastly compared to the tissue in the center. It was a horrifying sight to go along with the unofficial title those under her rule had given her - Revana, Queen of Blades.

The command had been given by their King. Soon enough the Lords of Chaos and their hordes would fall upon the planet of Ansion to wreak havoc, kill, maim, burn. Revana had been waiting from the start, her vessel's nose taking a sharp dip towards the surface before the transmission had even been completed. It was time to have some fun - the Queen of Blades would get her chance to paint the canvas crimson once again. An evil grin stretched her pale features as her small craft arced towards the surface, penetrating the atmosphere with ease as she set her sights on the city below. Where would she go first? The rich were always a soft target.. she giggled at the double entendre. They always did seem to scream the most when introduced to her tools, though there was something particularly challenging about practicing her art on the strong - the amusing struggle to remain steadfast, to remain resolute. And the satisfaction she got from the final moment before they broke, decisions decisions...

[member="Cady"] | [member="Moloch"]​

 

[Yaadri Osi-Yyn]

A reckoning had awoken from the depths of the Unkown Regions.

The pure evil of the galaxy had been rounded up together to form one union. Now it was time for them to release their true potential on their first target; Anison. The rag-tag group of ships began to descend upon the planet with the Dread King leading the charge. The Lord of Chains, Tariik, piloted a EF76 Nebulon B Escort Frigate. With all of the storage of the ship filled with slaves who were told to raid for their freedom by Tariik himself:

And they did as they were told. The slaves were all blood-thirsty, being deprived of food for days you can only imagine what they will do to what they have killed. Though the ships made their descent, and upon landing the doors opened on Tariik's ship releasing his warband of slaves.

They charged forward to the town of Cuipernam. Before they reached the town, Tariik exited his vessel, moving as if he were a wraith. His body slithering across the floor with his elongated limbs barely moving. He appeared weaponless, except from a chain attatched to his side by a strap on his belt. A party of men riding a creature unknown to Tariik approached him.

"Sir- please. There are savages running through the fields, are you okay?" They asked.

With a soft chuckle, the chain was unholstered and he began to swing it around his body building momentum. The men seemed bewildered though before they could dismount their creatures, with great strength and momentum Tariik swung the chain causing it to slice directly through both the men and their creatures in two wild swings. Leaving their corpses split into pieces across the ground.

It wouldn't be long before their remains were to be devoured by a hungry scavenger Tariik had brought to this once peaceful place.

[member="Moloch"] | [member="Cady"] | [member="Revana"]​

 

[Qamaria Nasha]

The chaffed, oh how they chaffed. Shackles, albeit not those of physical form, once more were clasped around her wrist, tethers binding her down and preventing her freedom. This time, however, it was not duty that held the chains that restrained her, but, instead, the fists of another living behind. Freedom had been dashed before her, her strength left in tattered ruins after she had chosen to pursue a target she had perceived as being easy prey - the blood and death she had felt upon him being too tempting to pass up. However, it had been she who had been prey, the Zabrak she had pursued having already known of her presence before she had acted. So, she had knelt there, bowed and broken, teeth gritted in hungered defiance and, yet the death she had expected never came. Servitude came instead.

'Still,' she mused to herself, 'this servitude does not come without benefits.'

Indeed, the ancient woman, still looking in the prime of her life, had more freedom than she had first assumed she would be granted. She, who had walked upon ancient, blood soaked land and feasted upon corpse and soldier alike. Armour had never adorned her form, only the crimson of those that fell to her strength. Weapons had never graced her hands beyond whips, nails and improvised weaponry. She had feared that such an era of her life had come to an end, that the moon had finally set upon the night of her life - leaving only the corruption of the sun to consume her. But, it had never come. She had not been forced into modern armour, had not been force to wield a blaster and, most importantly, the moon had yet to wane and set.

Yes, her actions were dictated by another, but only when he chose to intervene. Until that time, until she crossed a line or he saw fit to declare otherwise, she spoke with his voice. She was the Voice of Lies, servant to the Lord of Lies among those that had labelled themselves the Lord of Chaos. She was Qamaria Nasha, The Moon within the Ancient Ocean. Her age had long since passed and her freedom curtailed, but, she was still the Wraith of Blood. And, it was time that the galaxy learned why, before her slumber and before the loss of records from that age, her titles had managed to stir fear within the hearts of others.

​Her thoughts shattered as the ship she was within finally touched down upon the surface of Anisom, outside one of the planet's main cities. Order were to pillage, to burn and raid and, as such, a large smirk pulled across crimson lips while Qamaria swayed out of the ship. As she exited, her hair was immediately caught within the strong winds native to the planet, however, she paid that fact no mind. Dressed only in leather trousers, corset and boots, the Sanguinius Vampirika half-breed tilted her head back to stare at the low hanging moon above. Slowly, her smirk grew and grew until dark laughter was bubbling forth from the woman's throat, insanity gleaming within grey eyes.

'Finally,' she thought as her unhinged laughter abruptly ended and her gaze became fixed upon the city before her, the scents of her prey drifting upon the harsh winds, 'a true feast.'

[member="Moloch"] | [member="Cady"] | [member="Revana"] | [member="Tariik"]​

 

[Ax'no]

Lady Ax’no was no warrior, but as a seer and a sorceress, she’d arrived upon Anison to assist the Lords of Chaos with their endeavor. The isolated and desolate feeling of the planet made her own primitive Caprine settlement on Iktotch seem ultramodern and cutting edge. Modernization was available to her people, and certainly the Priestess took advantage of the latest holounits and security systems in her temple home, but her race eschewed anything having to do with technology, not out of fear but out of tradition.

As Moloch’s missive was transmitted to the unsuspecting inhabitants of Anison, Ax’no reflected upon the Dread Lord’s offer to have her join him in beginning to annex select parts of the galaxy and bring them under Chaos’s rule. What had been enticing about his proposal was the freedom he would afford her under his leadership. Where the Sith demanded blind loyalty to the point of the Caprine Priestess having to physically kneel before her former Master, Moloch required no such genuflections and sycophancy. Or so she hoped.

With a combination of barely restrained glee with a hint of gravitas, she formally addressed her own contingency of Balae warriors, the strongest male and women Caprine with sturdy ram-like horns.

“You have been chosen by our Goddess for your bravery in battle. Our goals here are two-fold. Convert the Anison citizens to our religion in the name of Ax’no and those that we cannot are infidels to be summarily executed. I will provide all of the proof that we need to convince them of the blessings or curses that may be bestowed upon them depending on their path.”

Grunts resounded, shields were thumped and the whoop and howl of a few battle cries filled the vessel’s interior. The Priestess realized early on in her journey to become the Goddess that her race had worshiped since their origin on Iktoch, that all her people needed for motivation was a glimpse of their adored matriarch and her honeyed words of praise for their efforts.

[member="Moloch"] [member="Cady"] [member="Revana"] [member="Tariik"] [member="Qamaria Nasha"]