M E A T B A G
Location: Eshan's Capital City - Palace Bridgehead Ruins.
Allies: The Golden Company, Thyrsians, The Confederacy of Independent Systems.
Nearby: [member="Eyros"], [member="Scherezade deWinter"], [member="Allya Vi'Dreya"], [member="Cay-Yo"], [member="Jerek Zenduu"], [member="Cardinal Vi'dreya"], [member="Micah"], [member="Voph"], [member="Derek Dib"], [member="Veronika Fleischer"]
Enemies: The "Mandalorians."
Directly Engaging: [member="Tathra Khaeus"]
Nearby: [member="Fedrig"], [member="Valdus Bral"]
Gear: See Link in Signature.
~ Apologies to anyone I missed via tagging. As my forces have been entirely kept in the background, narratively speaking, I don't expect anyone to worry about the sudden influx of soldiers coming over the ridge. However, if you're wanting to engage them, or involve them in your character's posts, please feel free to do so. Tag me and I shall have them respond accordingly! Please review this Gdoc to see my Force Disposition, as well as NPC names.
The bout of laughter that bubbled within Khonsu’s breast, as he bore witness to the burning heavens, petered out when the orbital debris struck the planet and the resulting tectonic quakes abated. Their projected barrier held, despite all of the horrors that assailed the surface of Eshan. It was a majestic sight to see the flaming wreckage broken down into its atomic elements as one flaming comet, after another, stuck the crackling carnelian barrier. The device screamed in agony; not in any figurative sense of the word. It was an unholy fusion of arcane technology that drew power from a physical manifestation of the force. This particular generator, the one that defended Khonsu from harm, encapsulated a kyber crystal pilfered from the lightsabre of a fallen Jedi; who died at the hands of the Sun Guard during the Sith’s conquest of the Outer Rim Territories. Through a mechanically performed ritual, extracted at a heavy material cost to the Golden Company, the vampiric capacitors forcibly extracted the energy they needed to reinforce the plasmatic barrier. The soul of the dead, linked into the mortal realms by their pilfered crystal, was metaphysically woven into the barrier; greatly enhancing the mundane projection to defy all known laws of reality. Thus, the twinned locations where these shields were hastily erected were saved from the coming firestorm. Even the dust that claimed the city’s streets found no purchase within the Barbican’s collective embrace.
When the debris’ descent was arrested, and the aftermath became nothing more than a fresh memory, Khonsu ordered the barrier’s to collapse. He could see his men starting to suffer from the side effects of the technological terror; made worse by the myriad generators that populated their immediate vicinity. While it’s protection was absolute, such a boon came with a price; one that was starting to exact its toll. His comrades were starting to pace in agitation and gripped their weapons tightly. They wanted to throw themselves at the enemy and were fighting their newfound violent urges on an instinctual level. He’d seen this before; during the prototypical phase of the generator. Those who remained within the active barrier’s protective graces would find themselves stricken with maddening voices; driving them towards the edge of insanity and filling them with an insatiable bloodlust. However, Khonsu himself remained blissfully unaffected by the madness that slowly wormed into their hearts and minds.
With the shield forcibly collapsed, and sanity restored amongst the Cohorts of the Thyrsian’s vanguard, they began returning the generators to their ordained cargo haulers. It was doubtful they’d be needed again for the coming battle. Well, unless the skies themselves once again filled with slain metallic gods cast out from heaven’s bespeckled realm. As that was an unlikely eventuality, there was little need for such devices. They’d be better suited to reinforcing the proverbial fortress that was erected in the ruined city centre.
It wasn’t long after the haulers departed, that Khonsu ordered his detachment towards the palace. While it was unlikely that their allies of convenience would require their services in battle, the Sun Guard wished to pursue their own objective of scouring the Mandalorian presence from Eshan’s surface. Not for any benefit of the people that called this insignificant rock home, but because of a matter of racial pride. The Thyrsians should be the only ones to lay claim to Eshan after all that’s been done in its name, not those hypocrites from ash-stained surface Mandalore. Their glory was stolen and to a warrior; that was the gravest of sins that demanded retribution. Not to mention that it was coupled with the justice demanded by those that were unjustly slain in the botched compliance action prior to this vengeful strike. There would be no pity from the Sun Guard, nor mercy should the Mandalorians be found.
All who wore the Beskar’gam, and stood in the path of vengeance, would wither under the Sun’s all-mighty gaze.
Once, the Palace was a resplendent structure amidst a crystalline lake of purified water. It was a beacon of architectural beauty and the very soul of the Echani people rendered into metallic marble and stained glass. Now, it was nothing more than a despoiled relic, with the lake itself being drained by the sinkholes tunnelling beneath the planet’s crust. A part of the Thychani Commander wished that he had overseen, and ravaged the Palace himself - rather than being a witness to the destruction. However, this was the hand that fate played and the Thyrsian could do little but accept it. So, the man quashed the notion of a future whose time had long passed. It was pointless to fight against what couldn’t be controlled, as all that would come from such endeavours was time being spent in futility. Therefore, his only path forward was to accept the actions of the present and make do with them the best he could.
One path that would see him triumph in this place, or perish amidst the whirlwind of fury and chance.
Gripping his rifle tighter, in recognition that this battle may very well be his last - like all those that came before - Khonsu proceeded towards the ruined Palace. However, the man didn’t trudge through the ruins alone. He was followed by over a hundred men and women clad in the gilded warplate of the Sun Guard, alongside nearly a dozen towering war machines that bore the matching resplendent hue. Their armour seemed to shimmer in the sparse sunlight that speared through the swirling dust; distracting any that dared to tear their eyes away from the battle spreading across the ruined bridge. The Sun Guard weren’t like the conventional soldiers who bore camouflage into battle; hoping that hiding in the shadows from their enemy would see them to victory. They were proud warriors, who wanted to draw the collective attention of their enemies and allies alike; so all could bear witness to the martial heroism ingrained within their strength of arms. Cowardice was a sin amongst the Scions of Thyrsus, and while many would disagree with their tactical approach to warfare; no one could deny it’s effectiveness on the battlefield.
His power suit's integrated systems began sweeping over the surroundings; detailing several items of note despite the dust that bathed everything within sight. There was little clarity amongst the environment, due to the atmospheric interference, but the man and his subordinates were able to distinguish the outline of friendly forces, as well as highlighting possible hostile targets. Mostly due to their measured connection to the Confederate BattleNet and the various IFF transponders located afore their ever-changing position. However, whilst the false fire-light of his visor filled with the relevant data regarding this pitched battle, Khonsu’s attention was drawn towards the distant Palace. There, just beyond the swirling dust, and wrapped around the once glorious structure was something that reminded him of home. It was a far-flung memory at best, as the Sun Guard was stolen from his home at an early age, but the linger shadow was undeniable. It was a worm, but nothing like the cliffborer’s that populated the dunes of his homeworld. Before he was able to get a good look at it through the dust, the massive coiling beast vanished from sight -- likely tunnelling through the earth beneath.
While he couldn’t be sure of the beast’s true intention, the micro-tremours beneath his armoured feet were a telling sign of the possibilities the future held.
In response, Khonsu pressed two fingers to the side of his helmet and ordered several dropships from the City’s heart to the Palace. They’d act as a rapid extraction force should those micro-tremours increase in intensity, and double as a mobile fire support platform should those beasts ever surface again. Either way, those transports would reinforce the Confederate forces outside the bridge and act accordingly. Not that they needed it, but having an extra card in a stacked hand never hurt. As the order for air support left his lips, the man felt his second skin ripple with unnatural excitement. There were several Force Wielders within the vicinity, and the insidious predatory gene’s that were bonded to his Thyrsian genome started to hunger. He felt a trickle of spittle drip from his lips, as the darkness of his mind filled with the pulsating images of the feast that awaited him. He knew there would be side effects when he was bonded with the Terentatek on a genetic level, but this? This was a sensation that he never expected.
Behind the gilded helm, the Thyrsian’s lips slowly turned into a gnashing snarl. Jedi and Sith alike populated the ruined viaduct; alongside those that were oath-bound to neither religious cult. While they were only assumptions, they were based on what he could perceive beyond the thinly-stretched veil of reality. It was a kaleidoscope of conflicting, and colourful auras that pulsated around certain shadowy figures; blending in seamlessly with the alternating hues of plasmatic discharge. Every fibre of his being was placed on the predatory razor’s edge, yearning to surge forth into the battle and slay all that stood before him. He’d be well within his right to do so too. The Echani enslaved his people. The Mandalorians callously slew hundreds, if not thousands of his kindred. The Confederacy stood by and allowed all of this to transpire, only seeking vengeance when the Echani Homeworld was threatened. Yet, despite the swirling tides of rage and hatred that boiled within his blood, it wouldn’t serve his people’s best interests to make an enemy out of everyone that fought for control of this world. As much as he wanted to give in to his primal instincts, the man had to be smart about this; One enemy at a time.
Whilst his forces began edging closer to the embattled bridge, Khonsu’s visor exploded with seismic warning runes. That creature, alongside the others who lurked beneath the surface, was on the move again, and they were ascending towards the surface faster than he could’ve expected. Taking a moment to glance at the corner of his visor, he saw that his dropships were still minutes out -- leaving them with little chance to escape the beast’s clutches should they appear beneath their collective feet. While it may have seemed futile in retrospect, the Thychani Commander ordered his subordinates to fan out and disperse themselves amongst the battlefield in the hopes of limiting their casualties. As their gilded forms and armoured vehicles moved with all the alacrity they could muster, there was something brewing in the air that caused Khonsu to turn his eyes toward the skies. There was a subtle shift in the wind, which was soon replaced by an all too sudden - and entirely unwelcome - drizzle that dragged the ever-present haze of dust back down towards the earth. It’d make their footing treacherous, more so than it already was with the water blending in with the ruined and eroded soil; but the clarity it granted was appreciated.
Although he was unsure where the sudden spurt of rain came from, the Thyrsian mouthed a wordless prayer of thanks, before advancing into the fray.
As the man approached the embattled bridge, or what was left of it, Khonsu found his eyes being drawn towards a towering figure who stood above the rest. It was a creature that he’d never seen before. The man was as much disgusted with the vile beast’s appearance as he was intrigued by it. Whatever that thing was, it didn’t care who died by it - or it’s kin’s - hands. They simply revelled in the chaos of battle; seeking to prove themselves against those that believed themselves to be better. The ever-flowing tides of the aether moved darkly around the creature, bringing the Sun Guard towards the assumption that this being was capable of bending the laws of reality and wielding them as a weapon. He grinned. For the first time since the news of his enslaved kindred being slaughtered like cattle reached his ears, Khonsu felt a fleeting measure of joy. Whatever this being was, it’s chitinous carapace would make for a wonderful trophy, and the Sun Guard wanted nothing more than to test his might against the towering beast.
Slamming his rifle against the magnetic plating his armour’s backplate, the Thyrsian withdrew his spear - a gift bequeathed unto him by [member="Vilaz Munin"]; a Mandalorian who felt a measure of remorse at the news of this massacre, and earned Khonsu’s respect time and again on the battlefield. The weapon was called the Ve’vut Kal, in that man’s mongrel tongue, and when translated into the common speech it meant Golden Blade. How fitting it was for the future master of the Sun Guard, and the Golden Company thereafter, to wield such a bladed spire as this. The spear’s haft was retracted, when it was drawn from Khonsu’s armour, but sprang to life as the man thumbed an activation plate. It’s bladed edge thrummed to life and sang with plasmatic energy once the lengthening process was complete. In addition to the spear, and the veritable armoury that adorned his armoured form, the gauntlet-mounted shield activated with the sudden formation of a fist. The device suddenly sprang to life and locked into position, before it too thrummed with plasmatic energy. With integrated plasmatic filaments secured onto the edges of the shield, the gravitically secured bulwark was just as effective as an offensive weapon -- just as it was a potent defensive measure against harm.
This creature, whatever it was, was his and his alone.
