Dominion Cold and Ugly | Dominion of Carlac | NIO

[Gideon Saigo]

OBJ I // THE COLD
A

WHITE DEATH
​

There was a certain romance to the mute silence of winter. It snowed lightly, flakes carelessly flowed downwards from the skies slowly but certainly covering the tracks Jair had left behind him; the vantage point he'd taken was upon a ridge three quarters of a mile away from his targets. It was an endless white desert spanning miles upon miles of flatlands and minor canyons and ridges dotting the picture.

A deal between a smuggler cartel and Death Watch elements was about to go down. Far from anyone's attention, here in the middle of nowhere, they were to receive a heavy shipment of top notch Imperial weaponry.

Jair was the expert hired to make sure no one survived the encounter and the shipment was recovered.

He continued lying on the ground with the heavy sniper rifle in front of him waiting for his targets to arrive.

Two hours.

The wait continued.

 

[Trajan Fett]

// MANCATCHER //
// OBJECTIVE //: The Cold
// FOCUS //: Vallaro Kindall | Gideon Saigo
Armor x | Rifle | Pistol | Melee | Grenades

Filth. To even imagine one of his creed would so willingly bend their knee to the Sith, it was despicable. But everything these Sith did was despicable. He couldn't be all too suprised that they'd do this, another affront to his identity. When the New Imperial intel report of the planet leaked that there was Death Watch here, it drew Trajan from the front to embark on this excursion.

Clutching his macrobinocs he tuned them to the distance of the Death Watch encampment before he took in the view of a Death Watch warlord flanked by 'Children of The New Order' treading forward to meet with the smuggler. Flanked by two henchmen of his own they pulled along a speeder bike carrying a large supply crate, Imperial armaments no doubt. Either shipped over the crimson line or stolen from the New Imps, it was certainly a hell of a drop for these terrorists.

In the snow with his left hand Trajan diagrammed the meeting with simple imprints of his finger showing three and three with the other. But he doubted the Children of the New Order didn't have a retinue laying in wait, regardless he slowly took up his own sniper, waiting and ready to pull the trigger.

<"Shot is set, Hood behind, to center's left."> Trajan remarked to Jair. He was ready to take the shot.

 

[Gideon Saigo]

OBJ I // THE COLD
A

The Sons of Mandalore, to Jair, were no different than the Death Watch. Same cretis, different boot they were licking. After the "rise" of Yasha Mantis, the pretender Mand'alor, the Mandalorian sniper had taken definitive action much like most, if not all, of his clan to abandon and go for the stars as freelancers.

He didn't voice his opinion. Kept the jokes at a minimum, these trigger happy karkers would chop him to pieces and no one would bat an eye.

He was here just to do a job, get paid and leave far, far from here.

<"Shot is set, Hood behind, to center's left.">

<"Fire.">

He pulled the trigger.

Trajan Fett Vallaro Kindall

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

// IMPERATOR //
// OBJECTIVE //: BYOO | Meet with Valdus 'The Beef' Bral
// FOCUS //: Valdus Bral | Ru Comet

​

I R V E R I C _ T A V L A R

Too many within the Galaxy relied on history passed rather than the present. There were plenty of heroes and warriors who'd roamed the Galaxy in the wake of waging great wars against evil and almost none of them had gone to the cause of the New Imperial Order. The upstarts, the hard nosed Imperials who'd risen up against their masters. They had not the dogma of the blinding light nor the shadow of the darkness to guide their hand. They were moved by will alone. When Valdus hailed himself as a vaunted hero against the Sith, Irveric only nodded once before speaking up in reply to Valdus.

"So you were there to defend Mandalore? When the Sith first sought about taking it into its 'Empire'? At Hammerfall, yes?" Irveric inquired before continuing on.

"To all due respect, Alor. What you've done pales in value to what you can do for me now. I require fighting men and women in the war we wage at this very moment. While the Sith Empire may be in internal disarray as we see it, their warfighting capacity dwarfs that of the New Imperial Order. I will allow a semi-autonomous rule of Clan Bral over Nellogant under the condition that fighting men and women are added to the Imperial hosts now. All the same, the strategic resources accessible on Nellogant are set up to be harvested by the Order for our war effort." Irveric offers in return to the Mandalorian warlord.

 

[FN-999]

OBJECTIVE: II
IN VICINITY: Dione | Lucien Dooku | Rurik Fel | Tsavong Kraal | Vella Forte
FORCES: 19th Assault Company
TROOP STATUS: (200/200) (50 troopers burning Vong organic creations, 150 guarding them)

"Reinforcements inbound!" called out one of FN-999's lieutenants.
​

FN-999 turned around as two troop transports landed behind the company, unloading about a platoon's worth of troopers from his estimate. The captain kept in mind their position, and kept a mental note to contact the platoon's commanders once the Vong attacked to secure an effective combat plan. Encountering minimal opposition, FN-999 lead his company ahead of the seperate platoon and into the village outskirts.

"Flamethrowers out, burn anything that seems parasitic!" called out FN-999.

About fifty of the two hundred men of the 19th pulled out their flamethrowers and approached the organic lumps in the ground around the village, intending to scorch them until they were nothing more than ashes. The smaller lumps took seconds to burn, but the larger ones proved difficult even for multiple troopers working in tandem. FN-999 soon realized that by leaving so many members of his company occupied, they could be vulnerable to Vong counterattack.

"Everyone else, guard the flamers!" yelled FN-999. "If they fall, take their throwers and finish their job!"

In response, the remaining 150 troopers began to create makeshift machine gun nests and fortifications on the hillside adjacent to the village, waiting for the arrival of the Vong. Currently, it seemed as if there was very little organic presence in the village aside from the parasitic lumps and the husks of former villagers. However, FN-999 knew that the environment could change at any moment. If the Vong were to launch a surprise attack, the captain would need to throw everything he had at their opponents to bring down both them and their unnatural creations.

 

[Valdus Bral]

Objective: BYOO | Meet with Iveric "Pending Title" Tavlar
Tags: Irveric Tavlar | Ru Comet Ru

"At Hammerfall, yes." He responded to the question. He didn't call it that, no one within his clan did, that was a term used by others around the galaxy so naturally he knew of the title of that fateful day by now.

As the Imperator gave his counter proposal Valdus remained silent for several seconds as he considered the offer. As far as Valdus and his clan were concerned, Nellogant was incapable of successfully defending itself from the New Imperial Order should he refuse to come to an agreement and they shared a common enemy in the Sith Empire. While having to share the minerals and resources on Nellogant would not allow an economic monopoly on the exclusive materials by the clan, it wasn't as if there weren't new economic opportunities now that trade relations would be created indirectly should he accept. As for the requirement of adding Bral clan warriors, Valdus had no strong objections. They were a warrior people after all and many within his care were eager to avenge the betrayal and desecration of their homeworld.

"These terms are acceptable for the interim." He began slowly in his deep tone, "Such an agreement needs to be written into the records and fine tuned. However, that is not my expertise. As a sign of good faith in our agreement, I will send the heavy cruisers Beroya and Beskad, in addition to the escort corvettes Bev, Ve'vut Carud, Burk'yc Burun, and Aikiyc Aka in several hours. They will be fully battle ready upon their arrival for both space and planet side warfare. Two heavy cruisers and four corvettes is all that I can spare on short notice. Though, with time, the flagship of my fleet, the battle-cruiser A'den be Ka'ra, will be made ready for depature from Nellogant as will I."

His number of available starships and warriors was dwarfed by the numbers that the New Imperial Order and the Sith Empire held at their command, but if he had a comparable military he would not seek to become, in effect, a vassal lord under the New Imperial Order.

 

[Vallaro Kindall]

Navi [Version 10.0.18363.752]
(c) Locke and Key Mechanics. All rights reserved.

C:\\Allies\\> Zivos Argos Xalen
C:\\Potential Targets\\> Gideon Saigo Trajan Fett
C:\\Objective\\> Bunt Hounties

---

“Shut your mouth. Ain’t really got a choice out here now do I?” Vallaro retorted with clear irritation in his voice.

“This is what I get for bringing a guest. No respect I tell ya, no respect”

The duo trudged through the snow and the wind towards the heat signatures in the distance. With each step, Vallaro cursed the existence of this planet and the snow. Why couldn’t the NIO show up somewhere nice like a city planet or desert? Snow planets were the worst of the worst in all circumstances, low comfort, low cover, low visibility.

“Alright, I think we’re in luck. That’s looking like their encampment ahead. Once we get there let me do the talking. Don’t think for a second they won’t blow our heads off if they get the wrong idea.”

There was a chip as guild com channels sprung to life. While it wasn’t unusual, it was rare that guild frequencies be used during a hunt though it was growing more common by the day. Typically, they were reserved for secured communications with guild representatives to officiate a contract or its conclusion but with the increasing overlap between the guild and Darkwire the channel's encryption had been bolstered significantly and many were starting to use it as their default comm channel.

“Oi Argos, you’re not interrupting anything. Zivos n’ me have found the Death Watch camp. I’ll send ye the coordinates."

As they grew closer the encampment began to take shape before them. There was more movement than what the hunter had expected. They weren’t the only guest’s deathwatch was having tonight. Vallaro engaged his ocular implants. A large supply crate was being dragged along.

“Ya see that Zivos? Looks like someone getting a present. I wonder what it is? Guess we’ll be finding out once we get over th-“ Vallaro’s words were cut short as a bolt plasma entered the encampment from the side, taking out one of the men and sending superheated fragments of skull and grey matter all over the men that surrounded him. “Sniper! Somewhere up to the left.” Vallaro engaged his coms “Argos, we’ve got a sniper in our area. Take care on approach.”

Thermal vision engaged once more. For now, the hunter assumed he was safe. If their target was deathwatch that it was a safe assumption it was an NIO troop taking the shot.

“Alright Zivos, It’s showtime”

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

// IMPERATOR //
// OBJECTIVE //: BYOO | Meet with Valdus 'The Beef' Bral
// FOCUS //: Valdus Bral | Ru Comet

​

I R V E R I C _ T A V L A R

Only fitting that the Sith-Imperial rebel warlord would refer to the Sith-Imperial invasion of the Clans held Mandalore by its Sith-Imperial designation. Whatever slight it might've levied toward the man or any other creed following Mandalorian, he didn't know or thought it negligible to refrain from using the term to Valdus Bral's face openly. Regardless, he continued to listen intently.

And so then Valdus Bral offered up ships by name to add to the New Imperial Armada, Irveric's brow raised a touch. And so he was willing to risk his own assets for the fight. Thus making the warriors of Clan Bral soldiers in service alongside the Stormtrooper Corps and Imperial Knights all the same. A reassurance to say the least. Tavlar would entertain him for now.

"A significant offer. I'll forward this to the Admiral Var Koon to make handling of and see where best to use the assets you present to us. But very well, the reign of yourself and Clan Bral shall remain over Nellogant within a special semi-autonomous zone so long as you abide by the Imperial laws and cooperate with the central authority of the Order." Irveric elaborated before he eventually nodded once.

"I look forward to meeting you in person, Alor. Until then however should any concerns arise myself or the Grand Vizier Tyrell Paxxus shall be able to handle them." With a nod of farewell, the holoprojector shut down and the Sovereign Imperator flicked his gaze to Ru Comet .

"I suppose that is your cue to complete your side of the deal is it not? The Alor shall know where to contact me again, feel free to return that to him." Irveric stated.

 

[Ru Comet]

Objective: Mission Complete
Music: +
Flight Map: +
Location: Space
Tags: Irveric Tavlar | Valdus Bral
Ship: G-class Shuttle

---

It had dawned on Ru throughout the discussion of just how significant this remote meeting was. He was in the presence of one of the most powerful men in the known galaxy and he was talking to someone who at least commanded enough force of arms and material to have the Imperator be interested. When Irveric Tavlar spoke to him after the holoprojector ceased its transmission the courier looked from him to the device then back to Tavlar "Oh, right!" he briskly walked over to the package and began fiddling around trying to close it. A few times he almost got it completely shut but the locking mechanisms were jostled around "Haha, happens all the time." he put a hand up reassuringly "Almost got it." click , the box was now sealed again.

"Thank you for your this nova me- I mean this really interesting uh." he closed his mouth and gave Tavlar a silent, and extremely stiff, thumbs up with his left hand as the right held onto the parcel. He turned on his heels and mumbled his way off the bridge "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" he awkwardly pushed past crew members on his trek back to the hangar where his starship was.

Once he reached his ship he shot a finger gun at the technician that was fueling it "Thanks." with the cockpit open he put the package in the backseat then stepped inside of the diminutive vessel. The golden visor reflected the expressionless imperial technician's face. Ru did a double take at the person and the two stared at one another for around twenty seconds "Are we having a moment? 'Cause this feels right. You know?" the technician made no visible acknowledgement of the courier's words "Uhhh." he waved a little "Right so I have a back-seat. Just hop in and we'll run away together, see the stars. From the Outer Rim to Tingle Arm." Ru leaned closer to the side of the cockpit's edge with an arm resting on the rail "Or my Tingle A-" the technician pulled the lever on the fuel device they were holding and Ru's visor was covered in starship fuels.

After a moment of silence Ru gave a few shallow nods as the cockpit closed, the starship took off, and he was once again a lone soul in the void of space. Just him, his collection of idols, and a dream.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Objective: III

He managed to get back to his knees, but his sight still wavered. The world around him was submerged, and beyond the voice in his head, other sounds drowned in that void. Even the Droid flickered in and out, like something from a fever dream. I deny nothing, he did not speak aloud, sure he might bite down on his tongue. This day has been long coming. I've waited for it.

His bones and muscles ached. For months before they bound him in chains, it was hatred and malcontent that drowned him instead of drugs. Before that, Alkor lived in conflict with himself. Memories swam around him and he looked between them like the opened pages of a book.

When he strangled the former Lord Commander of the Knights Obsidian, he was certain they would put him to trial. Instead, they swept him away from the public eye, wiped the slate clean, made convenient half-truths, and ultimately promoted him further. The more he transgressed, the more they forgave. The more they saw promise, it seemed.

What was I to believe?

"Then there need be no decision, as you admit your guilt. We will proceed with sentencing."

Alkor felt the strange needle in his veins suddenly as the contents of the IV changed. Instead of drowsiness from the point of contact in his arm, he started to feel flame. The heat surged, and he felt it swell through his arm. "You have taken life, and you have done so both under the direction of others and by your own volition. Do you deny this?"

As the fire began to consume his senses, Alkor felt something he had not experienced since childhood. There existed in front of him someone with the power to bring him to heel. He was finally going to pay for his crimes.

The day he dreaded and the day he longed for was finally upon him. Fear.

"It is natural to be afraid, Alkor Centaris," the voice told him. "And you are right to feel fear. You are right to understand that your actions have consequences."

Consequences. He had forgotten that word. Another memory, one of strength returned to him. The power to put down his enemies. The ability. They called me Demon.

"You are no demon," it reprimanded. "You are a man. Men are flesh, and can die."

In tandem with this response, he felt the flood of flame travel across his chest. When it struck his heart, the searing pain leveled him. Alkor dropped to the floor again, spasming. "Do not make me ask questions twice. This will be the final warning. Do you deny that you have been wayward?'

Alkor shivered, his limbs barely responsive. He managed to move his left arm, and propped himself upright. The numbness had left his jaw, so he finally spoke with his own voice. "I have never denied anything," he said. "I am a murderer."

"So you are," the voice agreed. "But, you were also a soldier. And so, the line blurs."

"...what?"

"What do you stand for, Alkor Centaris? What drives you? Why do you continue to kill, what is your reason for living?"

He fell silent as the grave. The single question for which he had no answer loomed over him. "Answer."

 

[Zivos]

There was a sincere smile behind the face mask of the Ubese, eyes sliding behind the visor to look at the man. So easy to get him riled up it seemed. They trudged on, eventually getting close enough as Vallaro informed him of the plan. Wasn't a terrible one really, saved him from having to try and be civil. "I'll keep my mouth shut." He was still blunt about his words, which were equally harsh even about himself. The Ubese remained quiet for Vallaro to relay information over the comm, visor scanning the horizon before they moved closer.

It seemed there was a party going on, his vision zooming in on the crate before the other hunter began chatting. Eyes behind the visor slid to him, and had it not been for the mask, the incredulous look would have been plainly visible. For telling him to be quiet, the man liked to prattle. It was short lived though as a plas-bolt snapped through the air, the ubese rocking on his heels before taking a knee.

He checked the settings on his suit once more, the automatic system still working to blend him in as he switched vision to thermal to attempt to spot whoever had taken the shot.

"Seems so. Upper left? They've got a good spot then." The ubese sputtered, eyes scanning around them, wondering at a few of the spots that he might use. "Shot like that...what do you bet it'sa team? Imps, military, by the book. Risk our neck for the Deathwatch or wait them out?."

Vallaro Kindall Argos Xalen Gideon Saigo Trajan Fett

 

[Grrwunhoooll Agaburry]

Objective: N/A

The vastness was silence within the great beyond.
Yet one vessel stirred, A warrior and metal worker for his own kind.
Mandalorian. His hammer was a quake. His strength ten-fold.
Against the metals, they stood no chance.
Morphed into misshapen beasts of cosmic nature only to then dance in the flames below and become nothing once again.

High into the air the Mandalorians hammer soared and then fell into the depths with a hard clank.
a rhythm began to peruse after constant strikes. " Jaru asas gar haa'taylir kayatr cetar. Bid at hwa cuun aru'ela trattok'or." The mandalorian smith spoke aloud. His voice distorted by a mechanical or robotic nature.
Those around nodded their head in agreement. Armored hands fiddled with armor of their own design. Preparation.

" Bal meg cuyir gar vod." One of the other warriors asked.
His T shaped visor looking down apon the one forging and salvaging beskar.
" Meg cuyir gar ha'yr?" He added with haste still awaiting a response.

The Mandalorian metal worker paused briefly. Inhaled sharply and spoke in basic.
" I am Xbalanque. My clan.. is food for wurms."

" A clan I have not. I am Xbalanque."

He continued to work.

 

[Trajan Fett]

// MANCATCHER //
// OBJECTIVE //: The Cold
// FOCUS //: Vallaro Kindall | Zivos | Gideon Saigo
Armor x | Rifle | Pistol | Melee | Grenades

​

That sweet squeeze of the trigger sent out a sound dampened particle beam levied toward one of the Sith insurgents with a crack of the blaster. He peered down the scope long enough to see the round make purchase into the side of the man's neck before he collapsed to the snow below.

<"Target down."> Trajan muttered before his T-Visor shifted from outside of the scope to catch a wider view of the venue, eventually grounding his teeth against one another before he looked down the scope of the rifle again. The sights following another one of the Children of The New Order operatives before he buried the rifle deeper into his shoulder, squeezing the trigger again to send another shot down range, this one hitting the man in the side of his hip, sending him to the snow with a pained crunch and loud scream.

He shot him again.

This one snuffed all that out, jostling his body one last time before he shifted the scope in the direction of the Death Watch operative. A Judas among the creed, he was quick to abandon the sniper, tossing it aside to grasp ahold of his disruptor rifle. At perhaps the maximum acceptable range for the gun, he fired out a burst of golden bolts in the direction of the Crimson Beskar donning man. Then another pulse, and another. That one went down as well but the position of Kurze and Ordo was far too open now.

 

[Rurik Fel]

// PARABOL ACTUAL //: Imperial Knight Commander
// OBJECTIVE //: The Ugly
// FOCUS //: Dione | Tsavong Kraal | FN-999 | Lucien Dooku
Armor | Lightsaber | The Vane | Pistol

P A R A B O L
F I R E

Fire. Glorious...glorious fire. The light of the flames reflected against the metallic plate of Rurik's armor was they sent the Vong structures awash in the blaze. This was precisely the support the Knights required in this excursion. Ever the reliable Captain Nines. In spite of his far outranking of the Stormtrooper, he would abide in line with his command and relay it through his own retinue.

"So it has been deemed. Protect the flamers as they purge this malfeasance." Rurik barked out in the booming voice of command to his Auxilia as they continued their advance into the ruined and corrupted village. So he must find it. The leader, the manipulator. To sever the head from the snake and this violence rightly. He sought him out and in the hopes of drawing him into single combat he continued the butcher. Alongside the Stormtroopers of the 19th Assault Company, Rurik continued his cold rampage further into the village. Into the maw of the hell the Vong had created here.

 

[Tsavong Kraal]

Carlac ~~ Ming-Po Village ~~
~~Kill Imperials~~
Rurik Fel ~~ Lucien Dooku ~~ FN-999 ~~ Dione

>-INTERACTING: Rurik Fel

Bristled in tattooes, the Yuuzhan Vong stood atop a burning mass of flesh of polyps as cinders exploded under the weight of his giant heel.

The Yuuzhan Vong, in all of his might, stood before Rurik Wymar, and the creature howled into the wind. A five-headed amphistaff, once know as the Hydrastaff, slithered up the creature's arm and screeched it's reply. The serpent stared at Rurik, and the Yuuzhan Vong's emerald gaze soon joined.

A legion of Yuuzhan Vong erupted from beyond the smoky remains to challenge the freshened Stomtroopers of the New Imperial Order, and the shadowy figure of Tsavong jumped down to join in the fray.

INFIDELS....

Tentacles sprung from the ground where they walked.

WE BESEECH YOU.

 

[Gideon Saigo]

OBJ I // THE COLD

They downed a near a dozen from their vantage and distant position. Even with the element of surprise disappearing after their first shot, the enemy hardly had much cover to hide from the long range sniper rifles. The barrel sizzled in steam and melted the snow around it; it was a heavy make. Heavy armor puncher, exactly what one needed when his enemies wore Mandalorian armor.

Jair found no regret in hunting his own; this was simply a job with a good paycheck. The Mandalorians were so a broken people presently that anyone preaching code and religion was simply laughed off.

The Ordo recalled a prophecy he once read years ago:

"Perhaps your people fought their last battle at Malachor V, and you have been dying ever since, a quiet death that will last centuries...until all that remains is their code, their history, and in the end, the shell of their armor upon the shell of a man, too easily slain"

He chuckled silently, there was an eerie but certain truth in that.

Kurze shuffled. Mind came back to reality.

Jair said, <"Unknown movement from over there.">

Trajan Fett Vallaro Kindall Zivos

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Objective: III

"...I have no answer."

All the pride Alkor ever wore, the lies he told himself about being the strongest, that drive to stand over all his enemies spun downward. He felt the warmth of the turgid emotions that held him fast draining away, the comfortable weight dwindling as it neared non-existence. Imagine, a man who made himself powerful reduced to realizing his only skill was service.

"But you do, do you not?" the curious response caught him like a blow. Alkor turned his gaze toward the machine and he felt the needle drive deeper. It was unnecessary, but the pain of the subtle movement coupled with the fiery sensation in his veins was enough discomfort to remind him not to respond physically. "You know exactly why you kill, and what it is that spurs you to continue living. And yet, you reject it and find yourself devoid of anything. And it drives you mad."

He stared at the floor, hollow. Unable to move, unable to fight, unable to destroy, the man felt reality closing its jaws around him. "Tell the truth, Alkor Centaris. Tell me what motivates you to continue living."

The words raced through his mind unbidden. He knew them, but for so long, he stifled them. Now, without the mask of contempt or the pride of a powerful man, they ran rampant. Alkor fought his way upright and the bright light burnt his eyes. Streaks of blood that stained his face and the formerly sterile floor offered the only outward signs of defiance now.

He remembered all of the words, and how he came to know them. Alkor intimately remembered learning discipline from Cicero, and from his former Master, and how he held the delusion of freedom because he was the one who took life. The lie fell away as he remembered who gave the orders.

Alkor recalled law, and the way he had been made to enforce it. He recalled the regulations that governed civilians, and the military, and how he strictly oversaw how each person under his command followed them. But he also remembered how none of those rules applied to him. Whether for strength, or because of who he knew, Alkor had been made immune to the repercussions of his actions. And so, the law became meaningless.

"What is your answer?"

Alkor slowly found his eyes matched by the burning gaze of a woman in the uniform of an Imperial officer. Her voice was clearer now, and other things started to awaken behind it. Echoes, mostly, of footsteps, subtle movements, and the room beyond them that eagerly waited for resolution.

"I live," he choked on the words, because they had been the untied noose around his throat for so long, "to serve."

"Move him to the holding block," she rounded on a heel as Alkor slumped forward, defeated. "It seems there is much work to be done, but he understands what he is. There is yet hope for this man. Rehabilitation," she waved a hand dismissively. "That is my verdict."

 

[Lucien Dooku]

H E L L B O Y
KAL'ORITSOR

Spoiler: MILITARY ASSETS

- STRIKE GROUP DOOKU - IN ORBIT
Nebula II-class Star Destroyer - NIV Myrmidon
REC-LC01 "Negotiator"-class Light Cruiser - Four Vessels
REC-LU01 HAAT - Five Squadron of Twelve
V-wing Heavy Interceptor - Six Squadrons of Twelve
- 173RD. STORMTROOPER LEGION - THE MYRMIDONS [ One platoon accompanying Lucien ]

​

---

Rurik Fel Vella Forte​

---

Peering over at the woman, Luc didn't appear to break a sweat, nor move as much of a muscle aside from the beginning of a smile as she targeted a comment at him before leaping forwards to join in the fray. He intended to do much of the same at some point, but his partner-in-crime for the night apparently did not appreciate the rare moment of patience that the young Prince was currently displaying. "Fiesty." The comment left his lips seconds after she vaulted forwards, his arms unhooking from over his chest and casually moving back down to a rested position at his sides. Shifting his eyes towards his waiting Platoon Commander, Luc raised two fingers into the air and nonchalantly pointed them forwards. "Proceed with the rest of the Task Force, Commander." He'd voice out, bending at the knees as his hand unclipped the black hilt of his weapon from his belt.

Before the Stormtrooper could muster a reply, Luc's body jetted forwards, vaulting after Vella Forte with the intent to catch up to the woman and join her side once that was accomplished. It would take him a couple of precise, powerful leaps to do so, at which point he'd emerge to her side and give the woman a playful smile, completely improper perhaps considering the fighting currently underway all around the pair of force users. That's not to say that Luc cared, but he wasn't dense enough to not know when his antics weren't what some expected when fighting alongside him.

Coming to a pause once he'd caught her attention, Luc would toss his lightsaber casually in the air, waiting and biding his time still it seemed. "You've got a name? Or should I just call you feisty from now on." He teased, perhaps to break the ice or simply to find a way to interest him where the fighting did little to do that these days. His eyes darted away from Vella momentarily as he swiveled towards an incoming Warrior, shifting his weight backwards as he slid across the ground and gracefully pivoted out of the trajectory of the Vong's bladed weapon. Keeping his body low to the ground, he reached out and caught the still-falling lightsaber with an underhanded grip, his finger trailing across to the activation switch and pressing down on it without hesitation.

The aqua-blue blade of his weapon energized backwards, piercing through the Vong's abdomen as Luc brought both of his hands onto the black hilt of his weapon. Rising to his feet, the blade followed in unison, carving upwards through the warrior's torso, nearly bisecting him fully by the time Luc was standing tall once more. His lightsaber deactivated, the Vong behind him collapsing in on himself whilst Luc flipped the lightsaber in the air once more, this time catching it with a proper grip. Blue eyes lingered back over towards his companion, and with it returned the half-smile that was sitting on his face from before.

"Looks like there was no rush to get things started, as you so lovely put it before~" He'd finish with his free hand making its way into his pocket. They might've been in the middle of a warzone, but that didn't mean he needed to be as uptight as everyone else. Luc had survived worse, after all, and these Vong would prove themselves no better than the rest of his enemies without the numbers to overwhelm both him and the woman accompanying him.

 

[Dione]

// WARMASTER //
// OBJECTIVE // Evacuate the planet
// ENEMIES // NIO
// FOCUS // Vella Forte | Lucien Dooku | Tsavong Kraal | Rurik Fel

Walking down, deeper and deeper into the abyss Dione found himself lost in thought. How had their plans been found out so quick? How had they been so easily located? It may have taken months for someone to find the Yuuzhan Vong, but all that mattered is they had which meant all the plans had to be changed. There would be no time to truly engage the combatants in space, no they needed to make their escape to one of their fallback worlds.

The dark dank air of the freshly grown vessel smelled of home. Dione didn’t have the pleasure of being born on Zonama Sekot like many others, no he’d been raised on a world ship. Detached, away from what was truly his. All in the name of the Sith, all in the name of false gods. The Sith would pay, the Imperials, the Jedi. For too long had they intervened and steered the Children of Yun-Yuuzhan to ruin.

Warriors and slaves came to life all at once rushing through the vessel making preparations, many not even willing to raise their eyes to the warlord for they knew their place. The only true threat, the only one Dione had to watch for was Tsavong Kraal . The creature was mad, he was cunning, and most importantly he was stronger than Dione. If it came to blows the warlord didn’t truly know which one of them would come out on top. Part of Dione hoped that the other died on the surface of the planet.

A door peeled back as a layer of flesh opened for Dione ushering him into the command chamber. In the center of the chamber sitting atop a pedestal was a bulbous creature, yellow flesh swelled like a bloated peach, tentacles writhed in its wake as it turned to see the Warlord. “It is time for us to leave, the Imperials have found us.”

Part of the creature cocked, a notion Dione had come to take as curiosity. The deep booming voice of the Yammosk entered the Warlords mind. “Why flee?”

“We aren’t fleeing, this was never meant to be our base, we only needed it to finish the project.”

“So we are leaving the rest to die?”

“If those savages wish to die in battle who am I to stop them? I on the other hand have greater plans. Those who wish to join us will either flee to one of the yorik corals and board or they will die here.”

Shivering a tentacle of the Yammosk reached out to rest upon Dione. In truth Dione had grown alongside the Yammosk, bonded with it, perhaps it was the closest thing the warlord had to a friend. “We’re not like the rest, we were cut from a different cloth. They still believe in their ideals, in their gods… I simply care for none of it. I want to watch this galaxy burn.”

Turning to the Yammosk, Dione pressed a hand to the center of the creatures eyes, a black vein thrummed with power. As flesh met flesh the being of Dione and the Yammosk intermingled spreading across the planet reaching into the minds of the other Vong still battling. “Pull back and leave the slaves, our deed here is done. From henceforth our presence is known to the Imperials, let them believe they’ve won this time.”

The very planet of Carlac would begin to shake as the fissures in the planets surface began to grow wider and wider. With each passing moment, the shockwaves felt as though they would shatter the planet. Even the city of Ming Po began to collapse in upon itself and those still within it.

 

[Errant]

Fresh snow crunched beneath Errant's boots, a tell-tale sign of his presence alongside the Knight Commander. He hadn't questioned their arrival on Carlac. Their purpose outweighed the trivial task of gathering relics or exploring ruins. This time around, the Imperial Knights, in service to the Sovereign-Imperator, were tasked with culling what Yuuzhan Vong called the snowy planet home. They brought corruption in their planet-warping sciences, something so few in the galaxy could overturn. Weapons of Vong-make not only killed their victims but also warped them, mutating their flesh and shaping their bodies to house all forms of disgusting changes. Errant had seen their work up close during mission preparation. He'd seen corpses cracked open, organs hardened, flesh spiked. None who came across these monstrous weapons of war were spared the horrors of their remaining days. Their Order would put a stop to it, no matter the cost.

Thus far, that payment appeared trivial at most. Structures burned, the snow melted, and memories died away, likely joining those who lived them initially. As their kind showed themselves, the Imperials cut them down with brutal efficiency, the Auxila forces as deadly as the force sensitives they served beside. Errant kept pace beside the Commander, his silvery blade lashing out left and right, cutting down whoever managed to avoid his mentor's immediate attention. Fighting beside Rurik often meant Errant would see the bloodiest, most brutal moments of these skirmishes. However, it proved far too boring, given the Knight-Commander's skill and mastery over body and mind.

"Commander Rurik," Errant stepped closer. "I cannot help but think the Vong leadership have fled from Carlac upon our approach," he struck out to his right, slicing through the chest of a fleshy, barbed creature. It fell away, clutching at the still-burning wound. "What sane being would willingly face down the might of our forces? We've already proved ourselves the better of the Sith-Imperial regime. Surely these monsters do not see themselves capable of doing what a much greater force could not," he shouted over the battle, struggling to be heard. His attention fell on one house as it went up in flames, one of their stormtroopers dragged within by a pair of Vong warriors. "I've heard stories and seen the briefing. They are hellish by design, but in no way immortal, and certainly not stupid," he tore his gaze from the burning lodge, focus returning to those in reach of his blade. The Albino struck out again, the bright-blade passing through a Vong's skull with practiced precision.

Before the Knight-Errant could get another word out, one massive creature appeared before them. Flames burned behind him, the monster's form a silhouette.

Errant perked a brow. "It appears I am mistaken, sir," he dashed forward to meet one of the approaching Vong, unceremoniously driving his lightsaber deep into the being's chest. He kicked out, the body falling to the floor as Errant turned away, already engaged with another of their prey.

Rurik Fel | Tsavong Kraal | Dione | Lucien Dooku | Vella Forte ​