Dominion Dawn Of A New Day: BotM Dominion of Najra-Va

[The Messenger]

The Dark Father nodded in approval at the brimming faith of The Mongrel . Where once he had been lost now he was found, the Dark Avatars casting their favor upon the exceptional warrior refined from a scattering slave-soldier into a battlefield marauder with the voice of many behind his call. The Dark Voice had chosen well..

His wicked eyes looked favorably upon the Mongrel, his command on the battlefield of Csilla had brought him to the personal attention of the Heathen Priests where once he was overlooked.

It had been so long ago since the gathering on that lowly world, since the Dark Voice had chosen his champions among the meek and ill gotten. He pondered if it had been farsight or simply blind luck, it did not matter in the end. The Maw had crafted itself a new champion, a fitting warrior for the coming tidal wave of blood and war.

“Ah, yes. Normally such matters are reserved for the Heathen Priests but... let us set an example for the others to aspire to. A test of faith in the blood of the innocent as the Dark Avatars preach. The Hidden Maw is what the wider galaxy calls the Darkness in the Force, Bogan, father of all avatars who are but mere aspects of his divine touch, our divine father shows visions of the future to all who partake in such ceremony. Even those who cannot touch upon it’s mysteries feel his weight.

Come.

Let us see what he has to show you.

 

[Darth Solipsis]

INTO THE UNKNOWN

THE DARK VOICE | BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW
NAJRA-VA | HOLY CITY OF GEHINNOM
Irratar Hemstagon

​

The Dark Prince’s trek into the bastion of the Maw Brotherhood was relatively uneventful as defenses disengaged and beacons lit in preparation of their guests. A massive tunnel opened up with guiding lights illuminating the way with red hued vigil. On each side of the illuminated chamber sat hangar bays spaced out across the expanse, each varying in occupancy and type of vessel housed.

A slow crawl forward would lead the shuttle into the belly of the beast as the massive doors opened, another set closing behind them. Pressurized zones of gigantic proportions gave way to the inside of the mighty worldcraft. As far as the eye could see a vast cityscape laid before the eyes of the Athysian envoy and his charge. At the very center of it all a massive spire shaped into the visage of perhaps a dark temple or something else rather and behind it the main reactor, a massive construct glowing in a self contained field. Barely protecting the resident from harmful radiation.

Upon touching down the mighty entourage of Irratar Hemstagon was led into the bowels of the Holy City where the Dark Voice lurked on his obsidian throne. A dark shaft connecting the temple center took them down, down, down into the very heart of darkness. The Dark Side was strong here and its presence could be felt with a pulsing beat like a black heart pumping poison through it’s veins.

The turbo lift stopped and it’s doors screamed open upon reaching their destination. Immediately greeted by the red Palatine Guard standing vigilantly over the entryway to the Audience Chamber, they were guided forward as the massive doors creaked open into an arena chamber with thrones raised above on elevated platforms looking down with one central obsidian seat occupied by a lone robed figure.

“You’ve come.”

 

[Aldo Garrick]

Objective 2: The World Is Yours
Resurrection Class Battlecruiser ‘Magnus’
——————————————————————————
Operation: FINAL DAWN
Tags: Derix Tirall | Marlon Sularen​

“Speak of the Devil!”

Admiral Garrick shifted his gaze upon the display lighting up near him as a member of the crew informed the High Regent of @Marlon Sularen’s imminent arrival.

“Ah, I did not expect the Lord-Imperator of Byss. Yes I do believe he’s become a great asset, a fine example of Imperial stature indeed. His rise in the Brotherhood has been nothing but stellar as of late with the accumulation of his own irregular fleet. He would make a fine Grand Moff.”

The Sith Cultist looked to his superior with straight stature and military vigor, “If I may ask? What worlds are we to cultivate next now that O’Reen has fallen? We have begun harvesting the youth of the planet into indoctrination programs for efficient next-generation stormtroopers and Final Dawn loyalists. I imagine there is another target in mind to begin moving towards now that we have a firm hand in the Unknown Regions?”

As he finished speaking the doors opened to the bridge as Marlon Sularen and his Crimson Guard entered.

 

[Irratar Hemstagon]

Into the Unknown​

Irratar's eyes wandered into the distance. A labyrinth. A nest. A heart, pumping the mighty hosts of the Brotherhood across the stars in a chorus of doom. Irratar's eyes wandered. Studying. As his shuttle lands and he, alone, walked across the platform. His crimson armor-clad warrior escort waited at the shuttle's belly, all stressed by the wisdom of his choice. Irratar walked alone. The armor that covered the body under the long, blood-red cloth clacked by the several golden marks and jewelry, delicately fixed onto his armored tunic. The heavy fabric danced, along the rhythm of his pace, as he walked across the grim halls and through the mighty doors to the eye of endless night. His palms heavy, by the large rings passed through the fingers. Several of these rings gave the impression of loot, rather than any symbolic meaning. Each of those carried an exotic shape, crafted by the several different worlds the corsair warlord had been at. The more he walked across, the more his eyes tainted by the Dark Side. Fiery, to the look, wandering around himself as if he was visiting a site, rather than attending a meeting of such importance as this one may have. A slight smirk across the pale face, indicating his approval of the grim atmosphere. The sense of darkness emitting from his posture blends with the suffocating air his lungs drew from the carcass of the worldcraft he stood on. Black tattoos decorated his bald skull over his ears and behind his head, clearly marked a ritualistic nature in their form. they carried words, within the complex symbols they consisted of. Small words, a blend of aurbesh and ancient Sith letters, altered both in a mixture of antiquity and isolation. The circular emblem of the Crimson Star hanged under his throat, tightly bound against the connection of the several layers of gold-framed fabric that flowed to his chest plate.

TAK TAK TAK TAK

The sound of the long, spiked saberstaff hilt, with countless forms of ribcages, crested bones and small skullheads of ivory adn gold carved onto it echoed as Irratar walked with the same calm attitude, towards the Obsidian throne. Darth Solipsis 's voice brought Irratar's eyes finally to focus, before he himself stopped his steps, several meters before the Obsidian Throne. Standing bit off from the center of the vast chamber, Irratar nodded his head, as he brought forth the hilt, vertically tapping it on the ground like a walking stick, before resting gently both his palms one atop the other, over it. His head rises tall, tilted, to face the figure of the Dark Lord.

"Ilum"

Irratar's harsh, loud voice echoed soullessly in the vast hall.

"Coruscant. Kaas. The Far Void"

"It is all out there" The prince intoned, extending his arm to the side "Ripe for the taking"

"The Brotherhood's deeds hasn't gone unnoticed, beyond the clusters. The Eyereas have seen the Darkness it shall bring. The Darkness that we.... can bring. My warriors grow restless and my fleet's engines cold. I came here seeking for plunder worthy of my cannons and a challenge worthy of my blades"

 

[TK-818]

Bendak Crail | Kyrel Ren

​

They say silence is golden.

A metaphor for those who’ve never stalked the abandoned parts unknown, delved into the muck head first ready to fight any and all horrors that emerged. The Knights of Ren were ready for anything, marauders of the Shadow, wielders of the Ren philosophy. These dark warriors were the predators that stood against the rest of time, they fought their way to the top of the food chain time and time again. Nothing would put them back at the bottom, not if they had anything to say about it.

The halls were abnormally silent, even the whine and groans of rusted metal hushed in their passing. The air was thick and heavy, it felt as if eyes unseen were upon them in the inky blackness that rested within the corners and shadows of the abandoned structure. The Master of Ren led the way, the bastion of darkness always seething, always ready to bring death to their enemies.

They came upon the research labs and we’re immediately set upon. Bulky black battle droids reminiscent of Dark Troopers of old came forth from the shadow. They came in droves within a savage pack of their own. The Master of Ren wasted little time in dispatching the first with strength pitted against strength as his saber flung away down the hall. The others immediately fired upon the Knights who scattered and moved as one in accordance to their individual strengths.

Emerging victorious over the lead droid with his powerful command of the Force and undead strength, Kyrel Ren ordered his knights to engage as his saber returned to him and sprung to life with a sharp hiss. Sinh immediately smiled under his damaged helm, the Knight of Ren wasting no opportunity charge with a savage swing of his poled weapon at the legs of the first droid as he tumbled under to the other side.

Rising to his feet immediately the Knight of Ren threw his weapon with strength augmented by the mighty Shadow and plunged his beaker blade into the front of another. Drawing his newfound weapon a sharp hiss crackled as he activated his newly constructed lightsaber with an unstable red beam fluttering in the backdrop. A nod to his master and the mighty Kylo Ren before them.

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Moon of Najra-Va, Abandoned Temple
Tags: Open

The Mongrel felt his corrupted heart swell at the Dark Father's words. Many honors had been bestowed upon him as he rose in glory after each of his many battles, from the first pick of the plunder to a position of command. His name, the new name bestowed upon him when he had been reborn into the Maw's service, had become known and glorified among the Bloodsworn and beyond. He had risen to such heights that he was nearly as well-known as the mighty Ren or the glorious Warlords, even though he had only his own strength to rely upon... rather than even a fraction of the great and terrible magics they wielded. But he had never been honored like this.

On the day of his vile baptism, when he had been reforged in blood amid the ruins of his adopted him, The Mongrel had been singled out by the Dark Voice. He had been marked for great things... but it had not eased his path. He had still struggled and suffered, forced to claw his way up from the bottom of the heap. The fact that he had done so, despite the incredible odds against him, showed that the Dark Voice had chosen well. Now, at this celebration, he had the opportunity to be one the at the head of the ritual; it was a long journey from being its recipient. "As you will, Dark Father," he replied, awe evident in his voice. "It is my greatest honor."

He stepped up beside the Heathen Priest, eager to serve the heralds of the Three Avatars in any way they asked of him.

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Objective: 3

TK-818 Bendak Crail


The Knights moved with sheer aggression worthy of the Master they had served, facing against the old obsolete droids with brutality. Like they would with any organic foe that they would dare face. After crushing one, he had witnessed one of his flock. Sinh who had in true Ren fashion all but charged with ferociousness and determination. Striking the droid's legs, after all these experimental droids were not immune to either a Lightsaber, or the Shadow itself.

Nothing would stop the Master of Ren from what he sought within such an archaic place. Certainty not some pack of droids, while the other Knights fought viciously. Kyrel leapt into the fray with a battle cry of his own. The droids now firing bolt after bolt. The bolts directing off and hitting the walls, with one slash he bisected one, the other sought to retaliate in kind with a punch to his face. Kyrel catching the droid fist, and with his own strength started to crush before the mechanical hand burst into pieces. The Master Ren finishing it off with an impale to the chest. Kicking it into the very wall.

Watching Sinh brandish his own crackled red blade, caused a sort of ugly smirk to form within Kyrel's own lips. Watching him, and the other Ren alike prove themselves once more that they were worthy of carrying the Shadow. Minutes passed, but the combat felt like an eternity. When it had finally ended. The droids lied on the floor a smoking pile of rubble, and scrap metal. Nothing that wasn't a challenge to the dreaded Knights.

He scoffed at what had dared to attack them. "Pitiful, it seemed there is nothing here but ruins, and obsolete trash... I know there is something here.... The shadow has decreed it..." His tone of voice was filled with frustration and irritability. He better not have come across this way just to face droids. He was seeking power, knowledge in order to jumpstart his plans for revenge, and for conquest. He would not dare to withstand being a slave to another Master. He would not allow that again, not when he had been granted by a holy vision. A vision of his future and what he had been searching all his life.

In a fit of rage he knocked over a few tables carrying dusty old tools. Before his head turned to a terminal of sorts. Walking towards it. The machine was old, looking as if it hadn't been used in years. By instinct he cleared the dust away, and pressed a button. The console activated and what emerged was an insignia of the First Order. It went further to ask for an Identification number as access.

It had seemed that such an old console had worked perfectly. Perhaps because it hadn't been touched in years. At first Kyrel thought of smashing the machine, but a memory came flooding back. Of his early years within the First Order. When he was just a man, a Special Forces TIE Pilot. That is when it hit him. Entering the identification. "TN-2499" The machine took a moment to process it, before finally giving him an answer. "Welcome, Pilot." It seemed as if by fate, or by luck it had worked. When given access the group were met with several Holoscreens around the room, showing databases, and more specifically, special R&D projects, showing schematics and blueprints for old tech and projects never seen in the First Imperial army. A subtle smirk came to his lips. He finally found a clue to his path of power. But what he did not know.

 

[Talon Kyber]

THE AKKADESE
NIHIL BASESHIP
NAJRA-VA
​

Captain Kyber held a glowing fragment of his namesake in one monstrous hand. Such a marvelous thing. It could be traded for wealth or harnessed to destroy. His cargo holds were bursting with enough of it to buy entire star systems. While the Maw's heathen priests preached anarchy their dark masters needed someone to build a massive war machine. Countless slaves toiled on worlds like the dead husk below and they could not possibly be managed without the lash he provided. In return the pirate king pressed conscripts from their ranks whenever he required more able flesh for the tempest.

"Pharos!" he wheezed through the respirator mask Talon now required to breathe, "I trust the delving citadels have been deployed?"

"Aye. She'll give the Maw all she has left to give. We're scouring her surface for raw material."

"Begone then," Kyber snarled at his tof quartermaster, "I must consult the oracles before we plan our next raid."

Fear flashed across the alien savage's eyes when he mentioned their heathen priests. He kept a cabal on retainer for mystic guidance. Many of his crew did not understand this obsession with the occult but Kyber knew what amazing things a good ghost story could accomplish. Especially if that ghost story was true. There were many strains of chaos worship and what he prayed to beyond the Kathol Rift sometimes whispered back. Only the heathen priests could interpret his visions. So he and the Maw were like a snake eating its own tail.

"Your doom is at hand!"

He fixed the chaos touched with a weary gaze, "If only that were so."

"Do not court oblivion!" the oracles warned him, "Those who dwell beyond the veil test your spirit. Survive and you shall be rewarded."

"I don't think I want their gifts."

But the priests just laughed at him. Of course he did. Despite the terror eroding Talon's soul whenever he thought of the looming spider from his dreams. Of course he did.

 

[Marlon Sularen]

NAJRA-VA , UNKNOWN REGIONS
On Board the Magnus...

The Doors to the Bridge opened as Sularen flanked by his Crimson Guards entered the Bridge of the Magnus. "Ah , High Regent Tirall , Admiral Garrick , i hope i'm not interrupting. How are the preparations for our future expansion going? I hope i haven't missed any new developments other then our recent engagement at Csilla." the Lord-Imperator asked. Already Sularen had well established himself within the BotM despite his dealings within the Galactic Alliance with the rapid formation of the Hand of Purification and the Maw Irregular Fleet.

However despite his quick rise , Sularen's Assets were still stretched thin and the Lord-Imperator's Expansion had stagnated alot with continuous delays regarding his plans to expand his Clandestine Network as shown with the recent Blockade on Byss and how it delayed Sularen's Plans to convene with his Allies within the Shadow Association. In addition Sularen's Corporate Assets were now under threat from the Galactic Alliance with various Facilities such as his Orbital Shipyards at Xa Fel facing nationalization from the Alliance.

Unfortunately , the BotM was still too weak to face the Alliance head-on although Sularen had a plan to quickly deal with that and reinforce the strength of the BotM through the Final Dawn and with the Acquisition of O'reen there was now the opportunity for these plans to be carried out swiftly and effectively. Should this plan succeed , it would further expand Sularen's Strength and Influence and allow him to expand his power in the Core and Deep Core.

Soon enough , the Core would be his and this would be nothing more but one step forward towards reaching this ultimate goal. One Day , the Galactic Alliance and all who dared to defy Sularen would be purified and Sularen would reign supreme.

Tags | Derix Tirall | Aldo Garrick ​

 

[Derix Tirall]

Objective 2: The World Is Yours
Resurrection Class Battlecruiser ‘Magnus’
——————————————————————————
Operation: FINAL DAWN
Tags: Aldo Garrick | Marlon Sularen
​

"Oaken Dawn would be an ideal target and test" The planet was, if he recalled correctly, was still in the midst of a Civil War between hidden Imperial loyalist and the slaves they once ruled over. The whereabouts of thier Empress, was also lost during this war. An Empress Grand Moff Sularen knew as a descendant of a clone of Emperor Palpatine. A genetic specimen who would be of great value to FINAL DAWN's burgeoning genetic stockpile.

The High Regent met Sularen's arrival with a warm smile."Recent engagements? Beyond the campaign at O'Reen, none that I am aware of." He chuckled slightly.

"Admiral, the kyber crystals harvested here will be used for the construction of a new Superweapon yes?" He was stating something he was already aware of. "I want our engineers to create a design for the next superweapon. Learn from the mistakes of the past. Myself, and Grand Moff Sularen will present the schematics to the Supreme Ruler"

​

 

[Maestus]

Better late than never, the Sith Knight and Warlord of Crakull strode through the doors to the celebration. Dressed all in black with red stitching, she wore her trademark robes. Thus far, she had never been seen in armor, and wasn't about to start now.

She took a moment to take in the scene before her. From the Heathen Priests to the simpering sacrifice to The Mongrel being honored with the kill. She arrived just in time to hear his praise to the 3 Avatars. A nod of approval was her only reaction.

A moment passed as Maestus watched things unfold. She was curious to see things as they unfolded, and her position in the doorway at the center of the room provided her the perfect perspective. Slowly, her arms folded cross her chest, projecting an air of confidence and power. As if daring anyone to say a cross word to her. ​

​

 

[Aldo Garrick]

Objective 2: The World Is Yours
Resurrection Class Battlecruiser ‘Magnus’
——————————————————————————
Operation: FINAL DAWN
Tags: Derix Tirall | Marlon Sularen
​

Admiral Garrick rose his hand to his chin and cupped it gently, rubbing the scruff as he thought on the suggestion made by his superior. "I apologize Your Excellency, but I am not familiar with this system. I will do the utmost to ratify the situation immediately." His eyes immediately branched off as the doors onto the bridge opened wide, turning his body to face his gaze in strict military formation in the direction of Grand Moff Marlon Sularen and his Crimson Guards as they approached. The Sith Cultist straightened his posture and stood at attention, showing a sign of respect to the newly minted Grand Moff, a title of great prestige even as the rest of the Moff titles were slowly phased out in favor of Overseers.

"Ah, High Regent Tirall, Admiral Garrick, I hope I'm not interrupting. How are the preparations for our future expansion going? I hope I haven't missed any new developments other then our recent engagement at Csilla."

"Always a pleasure, Lord-Imperator. Or should I say, Grand Moff Sularen?" Aldo's eyes fell to the High Regent with a nod before returning to Sularen with a warm smile.

"Recent engagements? Beyond the campaign at O'Reen, none that I am aware of."

The High Regent of the Final Dawn chuckled slightly before turning his attention back to the Sith Loyalist before him,

"Admiral, the Kyber crystals harvested here will be used for the construction of a new superweapon yes?"

Admiral Garrick nodded in response to his query, "Yes, Your Grace."

"I want our engineers to create a design for the next superweapon. Learn from the mistakes of the past. Myself and Grand Moff Sularen will present the schematics to the Supreme Ruler."

"Very good milord." Aldo separated his hands from their hold behind his back and brought it up front in an open palm of invitation. Motioning to one of the fleet technicians nearby. "Najra-Va's current design schematics were drawn up by the brightest minds of the Epoch Engineering Corporation, while far from finished, the general outline and algorithms for the weapon's design are scientifically sound. Using an imprint of Starkiller Base as a design template, we can replicate the same destructive power with none of the weaknesses that plagued PK-1 'Mercy'."

A single crimson fleet technician stepped forward, extending his hand with a small datachip in hand to the Sith Loyalist. Admiral Garrick took the blueprint and dismissed the technician with a curt nod before moving his attention back to the High Regent, "The design is unfinished but shows great promise, with this weapon we shall correct the error of Designation: Planet-Killer I 'Mercy'." With that said the admiral handed over the datachip into the hands of the Final Dawn's chief executive.

​

 

[Darth Solipsis]

INTO THE UNKNOWN

THE DARK VOICE | BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW
NAJRA-VA | HOLY CITY OF GEHINNOM
Irratar Hemstagon
​

"Ilum"

Irratar's harsh, loud voice echoed soullessly in the vast chamber reserved for the Dark Voice and his Heathen Priests. The Dark Voice looked upon him with dark grimace, an icy gale washing through the empyrean winds carrying his vile presence throughout the chamber. The newcomer did not stutter, he did not falter.

"Coruscant. Kaas. The Far Void"

"It is all out there" The prince intoned, extending his arm to the side "Ripe for the taking"

The Dark Voice let a grin escape his stone face, the Dark Prince continued,

"The Brotherhood's deeds hasn't gone unnoticed, beyond the clusters. The Eyereas have seen the Darkness it shall bring. The Darkness that we.... can bring. My warriors grow restless and my fleet's engines cold. I came here seeking for plunder worthy of my cannons and a challenge worthy of my blades"

The Voice of the Maw rose, pushing off his throne onto his feet his decrepit form came into full view as it began to approach the Dark Prince. Stepping down from the Obsidian Throne's elevated platform, he descended down the flight of stairs separating him from his guest slowly as his hands clasped together. The poisonous aura spreading from all ends of it's dark origin, a void in it's own.

"Your people and the Brotherhood are alike, adherents to the Dark Side, believers in seizing your own freedom and power from the cold grasp of your enemies. Power is not a means to an end but the means itself, what you look upon is the sacred foundation of that power."

His hands extended to each side slightly as he neared the bottom, with open palms facing the ceiling he smiled with a sinister grin that spread from ear to ear like a serpent's maw.

"There is a flood coming, a deluge of blood and violence that will shake this galaxy to the core. Your people must be ready when it happens... you must be ready."

He came within a mere few feet from the Dark Prince, the Dark Lord's terrible glare directly place upon him at such close range.

"You may take what spoils you like from the worlds ravaged, it matters not. Do not betray the Brotherhood, the Heathen Priests will induct your people as our own at the cost.."

The Sith Master stepped aside for a brief moment, snickering in the darkness before letting his eyes capture the form of Irratar Hemstagon once more.

".. of sacrifice. Bring me a token of your trust and when I see their blood spill across this floor I will call you brother.. I will call you friend."

 

[The Messenger]

"As you will, Dark Father," he replied, awe evident in his voice. "It is my greatest honor."

The Mongrel stepped up beside him, together the two stepped forward in unison toward the sacred altar where the unwilling sacrifice struggled and was forcibly subdued. The Dark Father let out a wicked smiled, the Avatars be praised this day as Chiss blood would be set upon their unholy altar in a place defiled and made clean for their divine presence. Here in front of all these champions and warlords, and now the recently arrived Maestus of Crakull, the dark ceremony would begin to play out.

Chanting. Burning incense. Sacred darkness coddled by dim candlelight throughout the chamber, the air was thick and heavy. The Heathen Priests came forth with what appeared to be a goblet of blood, a dark token from the Avatars themselves. Dipping it's wicked fingers within, one of their number began drawing vile sigils and runic markings along the subdued sacrifice's face. The sudden sound of drums beating in the backdrop thundered overhead like the beating of a dark heart. Those who could touch upon the Force would feel sick with the sudden emergence of an unholy darkness, a miasma that polluted the area in utter filth.

The Dark Father came to the forefront with The Mongrel , raising the honored blade bearer's arm as the bloodthirsty crowd went wild.

"May the Avatars bless us with this great sacrifice, may her home be an inspiration of the deluge to come. The Hidden Maw is fed this day!"

His eyes fell down upon the chosen blade bearer, "Go on Child of the Maw. Seize the blade and look upon her, the impotent whelp that represents a dying galaxy that will be made clean by our hands. We are the instrument of the gods, the instrument of the Hidden Maw itself and what lies beyond.. paradise."

Upon a nearby altar, an unwrapped blade lay upon gilded pillows as a bright flash shined over it for a brief moment.

The Dark Father let go of the Mongrel's arm and reached out into the air, "The Avatar of Rebirth awaits this one! We send her to be reborn from the filth she was born to! Fear not death for this physical body is only our prisons! The Avatar of Death releases you, the Avatar of War shows us the way, and the Avatar of Rebirth will welcome us into the age of unification. The Final Dawn will come!"

 

[TK-818]

Bendak Crail | Kyrel Ren

​

The Knights of Ren engaged their prey.

The Master of Ren first taking lead into the fray took down with his mighty strength and ferocious swordsmanship many droids in the first bouts of the conflict as Sinh and the others stayed in close proximity with savage blows of their own. When the Master of the Knights of Ren, Kyrel Ren , dispatched the nearest droid with a finalizing impaling blow to the centerfold, Sinh nodded in approval. This was why he was the master, the strongest among them, the example for the others to follow.

Striking true, the Knight of Ren spun his crimson blade in a savage flurry, picking apart the closest droid in his wake with his crackling saber that roared from the stress inflicted upon it's Kyber crystal. The fighting was swift and intense, after minutes of heavy combat the Knights stood victorious over their droid foes. Smoldering metal and broken mechanics littered the hall as they moved on, hardly worth the Knights of Ren and their time.

He scoffed at what had dared to attack them. "Pitiful, it seemed there is nothing here but ruins, and obsolete trash... I know there is something here.... The shadow has decreed it..."

His tone of voice was filled with frustration and irritability, Sinh could feel it radiate off of him. In a sudden fit of rage the Master of Ren knocked over a few tables, their contents unknown as they scattered onto the floor near a terminal. The Knight of Ren tilted his head, pondering of it's origin as the Master of Ren approached almost as if caught up in the same train of thought. The machine appeared old, of First Order origin, abandoned for over years or decades depending on when this station was up and running. Touching upon the machine, their master activated it and beheld it's contents.

"Master?"

One of the other Knights of Ren questioned, Sinh rose his hand as if to stop them as he beheld Kyrel Ren taking in the contents of this decrepit terminal. They would get answers in due time.

As if answered by some dark prayer, holoscreens appeared around the room giving them access to databases, R&D projects, and blueprints of all natures. The Knight of Ren nodded his head approvingly, the Shadow had given them a great bounty. He stepped away from the others and made his way toward a separate holoscreen, his vocabulator echoed forth as he pointed to the map layout of the facility.

"Here."

 

[Maestus]

She watched Dark Father and The Mongrel with keen interest. This was a great honor bestowed upon the marauder turned commander. She had followed The Mongrel's progress with interest. He was creative, resourceful, determined and, seemingly, indestructible. Maestus would speak with him soon.

As the drumbeats pounded harder and louder, she found her own black heart beating in a synchronized rhythm. Her pulse began to race and she licked her lips in anticipation.

Then it hit her, like a rancor to the body. The unholy brewing of Dark Side energies was at once overwhelming and unnerving. Maestus was no stranger to the Dark Side. She had command of it and wielded it like a whip in the hands of a master.

But this was something she'd not felt before. While she had been determined to stand and watch the proceedings, she doubled over and moved to sit. She slipped down to the floor, coming to a rest with one knee propped before her and her head resting on her knee.

What was the cause, she mused silently. Her head was thumping with the pulsating dark energies. It felt like it was being absorbed through her skin, permeating every bit of her essence.

She looked back towards The Mongrel and the Heathen Priests to see if they, too, felt the same as Maestus. Or was this something reserved for her alone?

Pushing herself up, she found her feet once more. She took a few small steps to test her balance. Inwardly she cursed herself for being caught unawares. How could she have not felt this before? Or had the ritual being performed triggered the release of the energies?

She walked slowly towards the front of the room. She made no move to interject herself in the goings on. Instead, she observed the Heathen Priests and the runes they drew. She studied them, serving for some correlation between the runes, ritual and dark energies.

Her attention slid next to the sacrifice whimpering on the floor. Maestus gaze devoured her features. What was special about this one? Could her part in the ritual have some connection to the energies?

Maestus was hit by an overpowering wave of nausea. Coupled with the nastiness in her gut, her stomach and sides began to cramp. What was happening to her? As the nausea passed, she gulped down air. Over a moment, her breathing slowed to normal regularity.

She drew herself up to her full height and returned her eyes to watching the Heathen Priests. Whatever was to come, Maestus was determined to face it on her feet, and not doubled over. ​

​

 

[Irratar Hemstagon]

The Prince smirked, clearly enjoying the scene unfolding around him.

"Bring me a token of your trust and when I see their blood spill across this floor I will call you brother.. I will call you friend."

"Broher..." he mutters, upon the uttering of this word by the Dark Lord. Irratar's Eyes lower, as he makes little effort to to hide his smile.

"A token you shall have, Dark Lord" the Prince intoned, pacing with calm, wide steps across the chamber, before Darth Solipsis . His smile wide enough to reveal the teeth, while his eyes ever fiery. "We are not playing games, us Athysians... I have not come here to serve, nor to beg for a piece of the plunder..." his voice slowly twisting, the once smile turns to a cold stare as his eyes fixate once again on the Dark Lord. There was no fear in them. No respect. Hardly any emotion could be traced, the more one ventured into the perversed mind of Irratar. "I offer my fleet. The fleet of the League. Never would I seek for a price, on standing next to the Brotherhood... The worlds speak of your hordes... Names of your champions echo across a dozen systems. Sometimes... Even louder that those of my hosts. Initially, I was troubled... Part of my nature is to seek a greater challenge and overcome it. Tear glory out of it, as I bring back the spoils of the Raid. And yet, this time, they came to me. Voices from the far void, tempting me in their whispers, to reach out to the Maw. To you... Hands across the Void, just like Dhefiron's pact with the Slayer Queen. I answered these whispers, coming here only to see what they wished of me. Now that I came, all I see is just..."

The Black Prince allowed few seconds to pass, as a smirk slowly slides across his fleshless lips. "Just good business..." he then says. "When you call, the Raider Fleet shall answer. The more the plunder, the more the ships. A storm is coming to the East. You are to choose, where the thunder shall strike next"

The prince's chosen words echo as he spares no little energy in hand gestures and expressions. His arms would then rest against the long spiked hilt, palms finally finding their way one atop the other, as his eyes rest on the Dark Lord.

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Moon of Najra-Va, Abandoned Temple
Tags: Maestus | The Messenger

Excitement thrummed through every fiber of The Mongrel's being as he stepped up to the altar, the blessed Dark Father beside him. Every battle he had ever fought in had been dedicated to the glory of the Avatars, but this felt different, somehow more direct. Without the struggle to survive or the necessity of preserving resources that dominated his thoughts on the battlefield, the veteran marauder could devote his mind fully to exalting his dark gods. The Dark Father took his arm, and even without the strange magics of the Jedi and Ren, he could feel the power that thrummed through the room - through him in that moment. This was what it felt like to be close to the divine.

As he watched the sacrifice's brief struggle before she was subdued, The Mongrel felt some long-buried part of him stir uneasily. This was different. Everyone he had ever killed before had been an enemy on the battlefield, someone resisting the Maw's advance - and usually trying to kill him personally. It was easy to be caught up in war, to kill when the alternative was death. The marauder shoved that small, guilty fragment of his old life back down, locking it away in the furthest depths of his mind. This was his path, and it had been chosen for him. He could not live by the morality of the life that had been stolen from him. The man he had been had lacked the strength to survive this.

Paradise. Release. These were the promises that soothed his mind, the promises that his battered, aching body was not all that he was. The cycle was ending, the Final Dawn was coming, and all those who died in the upheaval would be set free from this rotting age. His spirit, like theirs, could return whence it came, and thence be reborn into a better place, a better time. A fanatical smile cut across The Mongrel's face like a too-wide gash, and his eyes lit up with zeal. This wasn't a murder of a helpless woman, it was the breaking of her chains. Turning to the nearby altar, the marauder warleader took up the wickedly-sharp knife, holding it reverently as he crossed to where the sacrifice lay.

As the Dark Father finished his incantation, The Mongrel stepped up to the sacrificial altar. He looked down at the woman bound there, held down by the heathen priests who surrounded the ritual site. Beneath the runic markings on her face, drawn in blood, he saw something familiar: just an ordinary person, caught up in terrifying events far beyond her control. She was like a krill swept up by a whaladon, too small to understand the magnitude of what was devouring her. She was just like he had been on that nameless colony world where he had been reborn, broken to the will of the Maw. They both needed release. Raising the knife, he struck with practiced hands, making sure to pierce her heart for near-instant death.

After all, he told himself, he wasn't a monster.

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Location: Unknown World, Abandoned Outpost
Tags: Open

Tu'teggacha scanned through the newly-reactivated databanks, his facial tendrils wriggling in agitation. He had looked through every file that the Maw technicians had been able to recover, mostly inventory lists and troop dispositions that were eight centuries out of date. He had hoped for some buried secret, some hint as to the ancient First Order's superweapon experiments in this isolated region of space... but he had been disappointed. If there had been any record of the progress toward Starkiller Base stored in the computers of this far-flung outpost, it had long since succumbed to data corruption. The Ebruchi could only hope that the location chosen by the Ren had borne more fruit.

Still, the incursion into this old base had been far from wasted. All around him, teams of marauders were moving crates out of the hangars and storage rooms, bringing them back to the assault shuttles. The facility must have been abandoned in a hurry after the First Order's defeat, and many useful supplies - from blasters to fuel cells - had been left behind. Scavenging was very much still a part of the Brotherhood's process for feeding its war machine. Although the addition of resource-rich worlds like Tiantang and Mar'Zambul to their core territories helped to fuel their industrial complex, the factories of Osseriton and O'reen couldn't possibly keep up with the powerfully-industrialized Core Worlds.

So it helped when they found pre-made goods to distribute to their armies.

With a wet sigh and a wriggle of his tentacles, Tu'teggacha powered down the databank. He had downloaded the locations of all supplies within the base, and would now direct the full salvaging of every last storeroom. His strike force would not return empty-handed, and that would still mean some progress toward their next great weapon. The ill-fated Mercy had consumed tremendous resources, and it was certain that the battle station's successor would as well. Only unbounded production and a steady stream of fresh materials could ensure that the new weapon could be constructed while the Brotherhood still continued to supply its fleets and armies... and the spoils of this lost base would help to ensure that.

 

[Marlon Sularen]

NAJRA-VA , UNKNOWN REGIONS
On Board the Magnus...

"Always a pleasure, Lord-Imperator. Or should I say, Grand Moff Sularen?"

Recent engagements? Beyond the campaign at O'Reen, none that I am aware of."

Grand Moff. Sularen thought. It was a fitting title for him , lesser then that of Lord-Imperator in name and status but a more powerful position. As a Grand Moff (Grand Overseer in the Final Dawn) Sularen would have an incredible influence over both the Supreme Council , Council of Overseers and Supreme War Command although already the Lord-Imperator of Byss had proven himself as very useful helping the BotM advance it's plans for the infiltration and dismantlement of the Galactic Alliance.

And if Sularen could slowly radicalize his own allies in the Shadow Association to integrate them into the Brotherhood of the Maw it would only further consolidate his position within the Final Dawn , provide the BotM with more influence within the GA and the Final Dawn with new Military Commanders. And hopefully , with this Sularen could advance his plans and finally reclaim his rightful place in the Core Worlds. However as the Lord-Imperator someone zoned out he snaped out of his thoughts as High Regent Tirall mentioned a Superweapon.

"Admiral, the kyber crystals harvested here will be used for the construction of a new Superweapon yes?I want our engineers to create a design for the next superweapon. Learn from the mistakes of the past. Myself, and Grand Moff Sularen will present the schematics to the Supreme Ruler"

"Najra-Va's current design schematics were drawn up by the brightest minds of the Epoch Engineering Corporation, while far from finished, the general outline and algorithms for the weapon's design are scientifically sound. Using an imprint of Starkiller Base as a design template, we can replicate the same destructive power with none of the weaknesses that plagued PK-1 'Mercy'. The design is unfinished but shows great promise, with this weapon we shall correct the error of Designation: Planet-Killer I 'Mercy'."

"Another Superweapon?" Sularen asked with a surprised expression. "With all due respect High Regent , but haven't we wasted enough resources on these Large Weapons of Mass Destruction? Already the resources used here and those used to build the Mercy Superweapon deployed and destroyed at Csilla would have been used to built 2 Star Dreadnoughts or an entire Flottila of Warships. Given the losses we suffered at Csilla and our continued investment in Superweapons this would delay our planned conquest of the Core by a year or two."

"In addition it might delay the plans i had layed out for the expansion of the Final Dawn's Military and give us a limited amount of resources to use for the execution of such plans. Is the use of these colossal superweapons that won't even last more then one battle even worth such time and effort. We can easily spread fear through Base Delta Zeros of Target Worlds and reduce them to barren wasteland through the usage of powerful warships. Not to mention the further development of superweapons will give us unwanted attention from Galactic Powers that might try to stop us from building more weapons further hampering our efforts to build-up our armada."

Tags | Derix Tirall | Aldo Garrick ​