Faction Guts, Sulfur, and Stygium [Tales From The Front | Aeten II]

[Imperial Warlord Zovesa]

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Guts, Sulfur, and Stygium
[Tales From The Front | Aeten II]​

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SET AFTER DOM OF THE KRIEG HEX​

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High Knight Marshal Zovesa buried the flickering white beam of her lightsaber into the armored insectoid cranium of the Kubaza Beetle that had rammed her. She had caught the onrushing beast’s visage late and had been pummeled into the acid rain sodden red rubble of Aeten II’s surface. Prodded, stabbed, and mauled by the beetle’s horns and barbed limbs, Zovesa had barely time to reach for her lightsaber. In the mayhem, the beetle had bitten Zovesa’s cybernetic right arm and clamped its jaws shut. The deathblow the Chiss delivered to it’s skull brought about immediate rigor mortis. The beetle had died with its fangs still entrenched in her arm. Zovesa grimaced and groaned in pain.

The crushed circuitry of her cybernetics sent out spasming currents of wild electric fury towards the flesh that connected to it. The unregulated communication between metal and flesh caused both to suffer. The arm was twitching violently as the ornate and complex miniature gears that controlled the mechanical fingers overloaded on excess electric feedback. Zovesa gritted her teeth, deactivated her saber, only to pull it out of the skull and activate it once more to sever her cybernetic arm at the upper bicep. Sparks and molten shrapnel spat out, releasing one giant surge of electric pain into Zovesa’s shoulder and chest. She threw her head back, reeling from the pain, smashing the back of her head into the red murky mud.

Freed somewhat she tried to shuffle her way from under the beetle’s carcass, but, was impeded by its mass. Her saber once more snapped and roared alive. Zovesa thrusted and whipped the blade in silver smearing slashes that dismembered the beetle. Its guts spewed out and splattered onto pf Zovesa, coating her cerulean skin in black emerald slurry and painting her white Imperial Force Knight’s armor into a pale sickly green. Bug chunks clung to her cheeks like gory tears and her face was obscured by mud and muck. Shoving what was left of the carcass off of her she reached for another felled insectoid to prop herself up. Scanning the carnage she tried to surmise where the rest of her Taskforce had gone off to.

She cursed herself for becoming separated from her unit, it was careless. But, the circumstances demanded some sort of diversion to alleviate the pressure of the stampede flooding their position. Although tactically sound, it felt like a poor excuse to Zovesa, who was protective of her men. Stumbling around the insectoid guts flooded carnal promenade that used to be the steel avenue of the mining complex she looked for her men.

“Zev!” barked a voice that gave Zovesa some relief.

“Dreggs?” Zovesa howled back.

A thick fog had rolled into the complex, usually dealt with by the mining facility’s atmospheric augmenting drones. The fog was a noxious mix of fumes from volcanic eruptions, small particles of red dust from the deserts, and the pale mists of a oncoming twilight. Zovesa had lost her helmet when the beetle nearly crushed her. She covered her lips and nose partially with her only arm and suffered her way through the fog. A shadow ahead drew closer and closer, and thankfully confirmed Zovesa’s hope. Scratched up, and beat up but, still the stalwart visage Zovesa relied on – it really was Squad Sergeant Riktor Dreggs. Dreggs rushed over Zovesa, just as her legs began to give a little. Dreggs caught Zovesa and pulled her arm over his shoulder to act has her crutch.

“A Thousand Hells Zovesa,” Dreggs chastised, “You gotta stop with this gallant shizz, or you are going to die way too early in this campaign.”

Zovesa coughed an excruciating chuckle, “Feth off Dreggs, it had to be done.”

“Then coordinate it with us, for fething’s sakes, we are at your command,” Dreggs protested.

“No. You had to keep the line. That’s what infantry do. We shield and vanguard,” Zovesa replied.

“It is what Knights do.”

“Again, with the gallant shizz,” Dreggs said.

Zovesa shook her hanging head, “Forget it. Report, now.”

“Guts, Sulfur and Stygium,” Dreggs jokingly said.

“Report. Riktor,” Zovesa pressed.

“Well we are going to have to kiss some serious ass here, because thanks to the Advanced Team and Darkstar the big monster that popped up got airstriked and naded’ to hell,” Dreggs said.

“Our Taskforce swept the rest of the bugs off the complex.”

Zovesa smiled, “Stinkfist is never going to let me hear the end of this.” ( Hadrian Javik )

“Yup, they are going to rub our noses in this for some time,” Dreggs laughed.

The two walked and limped for a while before they reached Forward Operation’s Base set up by Taskforce Aurek right in the middle of the mining complex’s central plaza. In the open space, the APC’s had been parked side by side, and canopy tents where pitched from the sides of the vehicles. They provided makeshift military camps. Dreggs waved his hands to the Asklepion Force Medics and the other members of the Taskforce administering to the wounded, ( Zaine Balfur, Asmus Omaand ).

“Look what I found,” Dreggs shouted.

Dreggs escorted Zovesa under an APC’s tent and set her down on a makeshift bench made from Gonk droid charging crates and a blanket. Imperial Force Corps Asklepion Force Medic approached Zovesa and attended her wounds. Zovesa, not waiting, used her single arm to unstrap the combat vest from her body and setting aside. Plate by plate she removed her armor, revealing the black armored bodysleeve below. Pulling a combat knife from her vest she cut into her bodysleeve tearing it open. She exposed the mangled cybernetic stub of her arm, now just a small section of her shoulder and the combatweave form fitting under garment that covered her chest. A medic droid accompanied the Force Medic in administering local anesthetics and bacta spray in order to begin the process of removing the cybernetics and applying a temporary cybernetic prosthetic plug to cover the stump. Meanwhile, Zovesa eyed Dreggs, Zaine and Asmus.

“What else you got for me?” Zovesa said.

“Imperator is on his way, said he finished the work on Krieg,” Dreggs replied.

Zovesa sighed, “Perfect timing. I look like death and the entire mining facility a grotesque slaughterhouse for bugs.”

Dreggs smiled and crossed his arms, “I don’t know, maybe he’ll appreciate the carnage.”

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Irveric Tavlar Vaulkhar Davis Garrick Grrwunhoooll Agaburry Cyr Vaust Jackson Vernault Belisarius Ravraa Vyshraal Kardev Byrric Apollo Kurze Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt

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[Asmus Omaand]

Guts, Sulfur, and Stygium
[Tales From The Front | Aeten II]

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SET AFTER DOM OF THE KRIEG HEX

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Asmus had not been idle when the pilots had sent a set of chitten torpedoes down the corridor. Having barely registered the comm chatter as the order had come in to dispense ordinance danger close. He had heard the whistling sound of the incoming weapons. Had just enough time to call over the general comm to the whole unit to get in cover. Those that had managed to get into cover were coated in a dusting of bug-earth and enough of a shockwave from proximity to the explosion that even Asmus's sound dampers had some trouble filtering the sound.

His head had rung for a minute after the tactical drop on the large beast, still making himself move as the lanes weren't clear of hostiles just because everyone was a touch dazed. Firing shots at the beetles, only to miss the first few times and earn the full attention of the bug that he had been aiming at. Choking a curse out, the carbine was jammed into the side of the beetle as it charged, blasting holes in it's side before the Specialist stumbled back.

This wasn't the best situation to be dazed he thought silently pulling out a vibroblade and putting his palm against the edge.

The sting of air contacting the hairline cut cleared the fog of a stunned mind. Blinking, and taking a deep breath, he swept his eyes around while reaching for a pouch in his hip. The bugs had taken the opportunity the blast had created to push out further, the sound of fighting around the fire position reaching him finally. Retrieving a sealing agent from the pouch, he set the carbine down while scanning and pulling a piece of gauze from another pouch. He couldn't patch a bullet hole, but he had enough to make sure he could try stopping a cut like from filling his gloves with blood.

The gauze was placed atop the cut, and the sealing agent over top that to close the whole in the underweave as he spied mandibles coming over the top of the window in front of him. He had dropped the sealer in time to reach for the carbine as the bug entered his position, right hand squeezing the trigger before it could cross the threshold and cover it's exposed underbelly. It fell backwards, and his relieved sigh of a breath came out before standing and moving into the other positions to assist with clearing the fighting compartment.

He had found a myriad of things. Some troopers having been well capable of fending for themselves, making him step over bug corpses riddled with holes and other means of defense. In other spaces, he found one or two dead troopers, namely recruits that had not yet seen frontline action and failed to break free from the freeze of adrenaline fueled fear and shock at staring death in the face.

Asmus moved through the spaces, finding towards the tail end a heavy infestation of the beetles and troopers struggling to reload and fend off the stabbing motions. The sling for the carbine went over his shoulder as the knife came out in the right hand, his movements swift and calculated. The trooper had the beetle pushed back by their weapons covering the mandibles as Asmus slipped through the swinging arms and stabbed it in the sides. The squealing wales of the bug made him backpedal as a claw whipped around in anger.

He wasn't quick enough to escape the swipe, the claw crashing through the thigh plate with a sickening crunch as rage flared in Asmus. The trooper he had been helping reloaded finally and scrambled to stand, placing the barrel on the bugs head and squeezing. It slumped forward, pinning the Specialist against the wall before the other trooper could pull it back.

Still fueled by anger, a strange feeling welled up in Omaand, willing the bug off him and arms struggling to do more than keep it from crushing him against the wall. A rush of air and force found the bug flipping over the ledge of the window before tumbling down below. The other trooper fell backwards from the unexpected surge as Asmus awkwardly slumped face first into the dirt, drained of energy and still reeling from the claw wound. He blacked out shortly thereafter.

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He woke to find himself in a strange tent, voices around him as his eyes fluttered open before trying to sit upright. His helmet was off, and so were the plates on his legs. The whole of his leg stung, pain shooting up the nerves as a pair of hands kept him down. "Lay back trooper, claw wound nearly broke the bone. It's set and healing, don't fething mess it up now." Asmus took a long moment to understand the words, mind still playing catch up from the unexpected nap he had taken. Event's sorted, assumptions as to how he got here. Quiet question of where his gear was.

He refrained from sitting upright but instead propped himself on his elbows and looked around. The Major was here, and looking as though she had fist fought the chittin ghast herself. "The bugs are just decorations for the next crew coming in." Asmus didn't smile at his own words, but he did relax as he spied his helmet and plates off the side of his cot. Wait, those were crates.

Chit.

Spoiler

Irveric Tavlar Vaulkhar Davis Garrick Grrwunhoooll Agaburry Cyr Vaust Jackson Vernault Belisarius Ravraa Vyshraal Kardev Byrric Apollo Kurze Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Zaine Balfur Imperial Warlord Zovesa

 

[Galahad Degore]

Guts, Sulfur, and Stygium
[ Tales From the Front | Aeten II ]
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Once porcelain white armor now dirtied and tarnished - sanguine dripped from fresh wounds like a deep red wine spilling out for the unquenched maws of insects hellbent on tearing apart anything else that was not of their disgusting kin. "Come then! Earn your meal!" Sergeant Galahad found himself in the middle of a swarm, swatting back a mass of slashing limbs and mandibles all too eager to sink into his flesh; sliver blade bisecting and tearing through the thick of their shells, blackened sap-like liquid spilling on to the Imperial Knight, an acrid stench emanating from the brutalized corpses of the ferocious bugs. Where Galahad was suitably strong in his demeanor and prowess, the insects held no regard for such concepts. They were naturally engineered to behave as an unrelenting numerical nightmare, only ceasing their advancements when they had claimed their prey.

A cacophony of blasterfire sounded out from the distance - the shouts of men and women fighting tooth and nail as they met with struggle to hold their positions. Galahad's comms crackled with static as he could hear the distinct flat-lining of vitals from infantry he fought alongside of. Malice took hold of his heartstrings, his body tensed firmly as he faced down the swarm with a newfound sense of retribution. He was outnumbered and being assaulted on all fronts - his chestpiece punctured, his arms slashed and lacerated, his visor cracked and chipped at from the sheer number of times one of the beetles chanced upon taking his head from his shoulders.

Grunts of physical strain and undeniable anguish escaped the Sergeant as he refused to bend to his assailants, yet as he insisted on fighting, his senses became a blur. Unending combat had dulled him to the point where he was no longer keeping a close eye on anything besides what was directly in his gaze - a blade-like limb skewered through his left thigh before he roared in immense pain, stumbling and ultimately faltering to the intensity of the wound as it gushed blood. Thoughts of failure invaded Galahad's mind as he recognized the predicament as a potential end to his life, yet he tried to press on. His left gauntlet met with the creature unfortunate enough to be so daring, ripping it away from his leg through sheer will and crushing his hand inward through its skull. Its body convulsed wildly before going completely limp, hanging from the Imperial Knight's body almost like a kind of morbid ornament that complimented his blood-smeared armor.

Just as Galahad was close to collapse due to blood loss and exhaustion, a sudden surge of relief and morale flooded through his body as he witnessed an incoming wave of infantry paired with a heavy weapon division. A weak smile curled his lips, heavy breathing fogging his HUD as he made out the vague red hues of blaster bolts tearing away a large swath of infestation. "Your deaths won't be in vain. I promise." Galahad whispered to himself as he slowly tore out the limb leftover in his thigh. Ignoring his current condition, he marched onward alongside his comrades. Together they would make a difference.

Together, they would avenge the fallen.

Spoiler

Imperial Warlord Zovesa | Asmus Omaand | Irveric Tavlar | Vaulkhar | Davis Garrick | Grrwunhoooll Agaburry | Cyr Vaust | Jackson Vernault | Belisarius | Ravraa Vyshraal | Kardev Byrric | Apollo Kurze | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Zaine Balfur

 

[Jekadius Lawson]

Aeten II, the planet Jekadius Lawson was supposed to meet members of the Imperial Force Corps, sadly also the place he would meet Kubaza Beetles for the first time. It wasn't long after he touched planet with his newly assigned mentor Imperial Knight Vatn Yenth that they ran into the creatures, the mass of flesh and shell swiftly separating the two Imperials. Law was not new to life threatening situations but his previous experiences were just as much of a burden as a boon. A habit to act on the defensive, keep his blade moving in wide arcs to keep the enemy at bay proved ineffective as the numbers of the bugs were so strongly set against them. Law found his own wounds growing faster than the ones he inflicted killed armored creatures. While he fought Law caught glimpses of his master, the Knight able to weave the force into his strikes, lifting and tossing a beetle before pinning his lightsaber into the husk of another, pulling on the legs of a bug to open its other side to dismemberment, force enhancing a jump to get of a position as the creatures seemed to overwhelm. That was the Knight that was supposed to teach him, to foster growth that had been stagnant for years under an uncaring Sith, to help him grow strong enough to impose order on the galaxy, it was up to Law to be strong enough to let him.

Law apparently tended to leave his right side open while striking out with his left, his ankle throbbed from a Kubaza had collapsed on top of it, his ribs caked in flaking crimson from lacerations that he would later reflect as "easy to have dodged", and his right forearm hung tied to his chest to reduce the bleeding from the deep cut inflicted there. All in all exactly as he wanted to show up to meet his new compatriots. His teacher, however, had few scrapes as if the bugs had seen the flailing of the student and left the trained Knight alone.

While they traversed the rocky landscape master Vatn questioned and probed Law about the Codex, though Law had spent much of their time together already going over the document dozens of times and could answer most questions if not immediately then shortly after but Law supposed his master understood how the simple repetition of rules and procedures settled the Knight Errant. Questions and answers grew in depth, Law not noticing how his limp lessened or how the pain retreated into a shallow waves on the coast of consciousness.

"There." Vatn said, breaking the conversation mid-question.

Up ahead was a settlement, once civilian the area now wore the garb of military use. Law stuttered in pace, the pain from his combat returning and mixing with the anxiety of meeting his new leadership and brothers in arms. His master allowed him the moment to recompose himself before the two of them entered the forward operating base.

 

[Ravraa Vyshraal]

Location: Gunship - Real Space
Task: Reroute To Aeten II

The entire mess that was the operation on Krieg, thankfully, was behind and beyond him. He was certain that it would be plain and simple, arrive at the Mandalorian complex, watch the Sovereign say some high highfalutin nonsense that went way beyond his personal paygrade, and then leave. Why should he had expected the mission to go down as it had? The Chiss, damn that Chiss, caused more problems than he was worth. The mess that the flooding, and then flooring, of Mandalorians he had on retainer was something that the stormtrooper was certain would have caused the entire conversation to break down. Despite what he expected, it hadn't. The Sovereign had managed to maintain control of the situation, he had managed to broker a deal, and now the New Imperial Order had the backing of the Mandalorian clans in the region. It was something he was more than happy to say, with a couple hundred dozen beskar clad madmen, he had better hopes about their odds of winnning this entire conflict.

His entire gathering of stormtroopers were to be rerouted to Aeten II in order to support the efforts that were going on the planet. Apparently the Force Crops were dealing with some native infestation of some insect life, he was fuzzy on the details, he hadn't paid much attention to the debriefing and then sudden rebriefing as they were sent off to yet another room. He had dozed nearly, not to sleep, but he had allowed his mind to daydream over the sheering and bombastic displays of the Officer. The man obviously was trying to get some form of reaction of the troopers, but none was coming, none of any meaning, at least. The entire room was filled with dead eyes and men and women who wished nothing more than to just return home to their bunks and sleep the entire display on Krieg away.

That wasn't and option they were being given, instead, they were to load themselves onto a gunship and have themselves shuttled off to another world, another planet that they would end up forgetting in a weeks time, in order to support the deluxe models that, odds said, were simply mopping up whatever remained of their objectives. This mattered little to Ravraa, it was extra pay, at least he hoped it would be. He had little knowledge on how the pay system properly worked, but he assumed it was a combination of rank, hours, and missions that he completed. At least he had hoped. Banking his checks, maybe he would be able to grab a ship by the time his service was over. He missed planet hopping on his terms.

Now he stood, cramped into a gunship with around ten other troopers, clacking their betaplast together as the vessel rocked and shook as it's subspace engines blared. Off to another world. Another front.

Hopefully, it would be more peaceful.

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

Guts, Sulfur, and Stygium
[Tales From The Front | Aeten II] ​

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When the wounded call broke the static of the comm link, the squadron of men had collectively thrown themselves from their cover in the weathered building. Lyra’s chest heaved as they entered the fray, the thrusters attached to her arment propelling her forward, slamming into the first unlucky insect that crossed paths. The durasteel plates creaked and pain radiated from her shoulder as she muscled up against the beetle, vision doubling in the wake of the impact. She jammed her rifle between the flailing limbs, acting on instinct as she dumped several bursts into the chitin armor until it cracked and spewed.

When the beetle ceased it’s thrashing, Lyra counted it dead hauling herself over the remains. The horde was being weeded out but they were still staring at the stragglers that barreled past them. The demons flared their mandibles, striking their limbs with lethal force in challenge. Lyra and the handful of rangers wedged through the stream of beetles, the avenue had been reduced to a cesspit of gore as the storm kicked up, sand and ash a shade red choking their vision. Men were smited down before they fired off a round.

Lyra struggled, unloading the entirety of her clip before her as they fought to establish a line. The screen flashing and bleeding red as one trooper was run down. Her hands shook as she clipped a fresh power cell in, shouting for cover. The remaining squad pushed up behind them, offering stray shots, trying to reach the second bunker to pull out the survivors.

The old sand swept barracks the Captain had taken up in had been mobbed. There was an errant bolt of fire or two popped off from the broken windows, the comms picking up a stray shout as the men grappled with the beasts half hanging from the hole in the wall. The broken static and screams one of the few signs that there were survivors yet, the majority of the durasteel building was covered in the greenish bloodshed.

Focusing her attention on keeping some berth between them and the insects. A lull in the heavy repeater fire spelled their doom, the thundering noise ceasing-replaced by the hellish screams of the insects. The verpine gun wasn’t a quick reload and the soldier had reached his end on the clip.

<”Fall back!”> Lyra ordered, <”get the wounded out now!>”

The trooper at her side was descended upon in a flash, lost under a flail of insects as they were mobbed. If the crushing blow didn’t kill the man, getting torn apart was still a viable death. Gritting her teeth Lyra, jerked the blaster in to her shoulder unleashing a messing volley into the beetle trying to reach the soldier to drag him back.

<”Heavy squad get that gun back up now! Cover-”>

The beetle reared up before she could reach him, in a flash it ripped it’s fangs from the trooper’s torso. Scarlet blood dripped from it’s maw and she gaped, her feet tangled under her as she tripped as it struck down with it’s limb. Scratching and clawing down the side of her armor. The HUD screamed, warning her as she hit the ground, the blunt force knocking the air out of her lungs.

Numb, she rode out the waves of adrenaline. Lyra pushed herself back blindly, sparks spitting off from the wired components. Her back hit the carcass, hands slick from the flesh and muck, heart hammering as her hand slapped across her chest piece dragging the vibroknife out. Slashing up wildly as she forced herself to her feet. Lyra didn’t think it’d be enough, but she had lost her rifle somehow, and muscle memory urged her forward-throwing her weight behind the knife, Lyra dug it in between the plates of the beetle’s shell with a sickening crunch. What followed was a blur of blaster fire that seared past her helmet; far too close to comfort.

Lyra ducked, flinching away from the shots, a shout garbled by heavy breath escaping her throat. Her eyes roaming in search for a way out; blaster fire filling her ears. They knew how to cut it close and Lyra dropped to her knees as the troopers’ volley ravaged the beasts, punching back. Cross fire covered her head and she scrambled low as the wind swept up the red waste, the fumes burned and she finally regarded her shoulder down, plating cracked and the damage had exposed-cut down to her hip.

<”Fall back fall back! Wounded on the line! Cover me!”>

She didn’t have to search much further, coming upon the fallen trooper awashed with the carnage. Lyra hooked a hand under the soldier's arm, limping trying to haul him back. She tried not to focus upon the line of blood left in the dirt, or the gore that hung from the trooper’s chest. Straining to pull him and armor out, the augmented strength of the suit failing. Something greater told her the soldier wasn’t quite dead yet and her frustration propelled her forward. Two figures emerging from the hellish storm, hailed by blaster fire. She didn’t recognise them, they weren’t any of her men. Lyra wasn’t going to argue over a few reinforcements, they weren’t safe yet and in a moment of clarity her hand retrieved her pistol, leveling it up behind her; firing blindly.

<”Squad one, who’s near? Corporals down, get him out! He needs a medic now!”> Lyra shouted.

There was heavy thud, and an explosion rocked the ground. A few grenades were being tossed in, tearing up the remnants of the avenue; fire bleeding in with the storm. The handful of rangers had struggled to clean up the remnants of the hive, minutes passing until the streets finally emptied and they were the only ones left amongst the culling. Confusion washed over her when her helmet listed off a series of new warnings, her knees hitting the sand. Several more men appeared through the haze and she recognised the patches, a strong hand caught her shoulder and dragged her to her feet. The downed soldier forgot for only a second before she was pushing the hand away.

<”Ma’am are you hit?”> the trooper asked, reaching for the drowned man. Corporal Thoa if she remembered right, his helmet had a permanent scorch mark right of the visor.

<”I’ll live, where's squad two?”>

<”We’ve got them out, Captain’s taken a bad hit!”>

The woman had been lucky enough to get off lightly in her last decade of service, it was only a matter of time.

<”Ma’ams roads clearing out! Reinforcements are moving in,>” Thoa urged when she didn’t speak up.

Dropping a fresh celll on the pistol, Lyra nodded, throwing a weak hand up. The remnants of the first squad pulled out as fresh faced troopers moved up in their stead. Her side burned, begging for some measure of mercy and Lyra was begrudged to take the extra hand of help. Less than an hour and it had all gone to shavit. The contingent of rangers descended upon the field hospital within minutes, worn and agitated they wove through the force corps. Hauling in their fallen comrades before the lot of them clearedg out. There was dead to retrieve.

Taking up a small corner in the shadow of one of the transport vehicles. Lyra worked off the broken vambrace and the plates down her side, finally taking off the pressure on her hip; easing herself on to one of the crates. A few rangers lingered nearby and she followed their line of sight. Casting an anxious glance down the rows of field tents, Lyra studied the influx of support staff and droids. None of it sat right with her, and she caught the idle air chatter reporting in. Narrowing her eyes she finally caught sight of the Captain Appw’rii layed out a few crates down. Part of her helmet had taken a bad hit, a large chunk of the metal rend. Cursing under her breath as Lyra all but ripped off the last damaged plate, throwing it down in the sand.

<”Simmoes get me a count on all of Genesis!”> Lyra said, gritting her teeth behind her helmet.

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Imperial Warlord Zovesa Asmus Omaand Irveric Tavlar Vaulkhar Davis Garrick Grrwunhoooll Agaburry Cyr Vaust Jackson Vernault Belisarius Ravraa Vyshraal Kardev Byrric Apollo Kurze Zaine Balfur

 

[Imperial Warlord Zovesa]

"The bugs are just decorations for the next crew coming in."

The joke by Asmus cut between Zovesa and Dreggs, falling in the sulfur stained air between them. Dreggs turned around big grin on his face and snorted a brief chuckle. Crossing his arms and taking a long step towards Asmus’ cot. He sat down, needlessly taking up space where the injured soldier could possibly rest and leaned in laughing.

“Well, well, well, look who up and survived another brush with death!” Dreggs laughed.

“You must have some luck on you boy!” said Dreggs, separating his crossed arms to smack Asmus Omaand on the shoulder.

Zovesa offered a weak smile, while a medical droid stung her with injections and an Asklepion Force Nurse hovered her hands above the Chiss’ chest, using the powers of he Force to heal the internal wounds. She nodded and joined in, “A talisman.”

Dreggs eyes lit up and his grin got toothy and wide, “Hah! That’s it!”

He stood up abruptly and wagged his finger at Asmus, “I have been fighting for a nickname for you and the Marshal just spat the best one.”

“Talisman!” he declared, “That’s your name now boy!”

“Best thank the Marshal for giving you a decent one, I was about to pick something far worse, hah.”

Dreggs whipped his head back briefly to confirm the selection with Zovesa, who said nothing and waved her hand acknowledging him. Dreggs looked back to Asmus, “And as our Talisman you are charged with bringing us good luck, so don’t let the Marshal down.”

“Dreggs stop anointing the Specialists and get some rest,” Zovesa joked, before wincing as a painful jolt screamed from her innards as the Force did its work within her.

Cradling her wounded chest for a moment, she took in a deep breath and leaned back. Using the breath to calm herself she shook her head and lowered it.

“But, I am glad you are alright Asmus,” Zovesa said without looking towards the Specialist, “Remember to keep that way, it’s only going to get bloodier from here on out.”

The Asklepion Force Nurse interrupted Zovesa’s lesson, “Ma’am, I have healed what I can, the Bacta will have to patch the rest. As for your arm, I will instruct the FX-7 operate the installation of a placeholder prosthetic.”

Zovesa nodded and the Force Nurse returned it before for leaving. Another messenger arrived, a Auxilia Trooper ahead of a host of Force Corps Knights and their battered troopers. The trooper rushed to Zovesa, clicked his heels, and saluted. “Marshal, reporting,” he announced.

“Go on,” Zovesa said.

“Yes,” the trooper complied, “Knights Jekadius Lawson and Galahad Degore have arrived.”

“I’ll see to them, thank you private,” Zovesa said, suddenly trying to stand.

She propped herself against the crate and tried to push herself up. Her stance was shaky, and she almost toppled into the mud. Dreggs and the trooper flinched forward and almost jumped to catch their commander if not for her barking at them to leave her be. Limping severely and with an exposed stump for her left arm, Zovesa looked like a ghoul that had risen from her crypt. Forcing her back to be erect and raising her head, she composed herself as her rank would demand and marched towards the two oncoming Corps Knights.

“Report,” Zovesa cruelly greeted.

Cruel it was but, she wanted some normalcy to take hold. Thanking the heavens they were safe would come later. Dreggs inspected his long time friend and commander from behind, standing next to Asmus.

“See that Talisman?” Dreggs said to Asmus, “I know our Marshal. She comes off as a tough schutta, but deep down she cares too much for her men. So much she’d rather rip herself a part.”

Dreggs sighed, “We got a protect her too Talisman. Or else one day she’ll be ripped up so bad we can’t put her back together again.”

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Asmus Omaand Irveric Tavlar Vaulkhar Davis Garrick Grrwunhoooll Agaburry Cyr Vaust Jackson Vernault Belisarius Ravraa Vyshraal Kardev Byrric Apollo Kurze Zaine Balfur

 

[Jekadius Lawson]

Once inside the compound Knight Vatn broke off to gather supplies and and meet up with the troopers under his command , he instructed the Knight Errant to meet with the commander. Law found that his master often like to teach him how to do something but leave him alone in the moment of action, something he believed that fostered growth and self reliance that were key for the Force Corps. Law approached a group of three troopers cleaning their weapons on a prefabricated table, this armor was marred with gouges and dirt clear indication of the bugs that he had run into upon arrival.

"I am Knight Errant Jekadius Lawson. I am looking for High Knight Imperial Warlord Zovesa do you know where I can find her." Law asked the trio.

The oldest of the men looked him up and down, he had more scars on his head alone than Law had fresh wounds. "She just got in a short while ago and is getting patched up." He paused and turned to one of the others. "Go inform the Marshal that one of her knights have arrived." He turned back to Law. "Walk slow Knight, she was pretty dinged up when she arrived."​

Law thanked the veteran and began to make his way along the route that the trooper had run off had taken. He took the advice though savouring each step and looking around, a number of vehicles were parked in the square tarps spread between them to offer cover from the sun, troopers performed field maintenance on weapons and armor, and wounded and dead were brought in with squads returning from the fighting. It was a novel experience for him but the way everyone moved, with determination and decision, everyone knowing exactly where they needed to be brought him a peace. This was an army.​

The High Knight Marshal stood out like blood on white cloth, she bore several recently tended wounds even missing one of her arms however as she walked she appeared to stand valiant like how painters depicted the victors in great works of art. She was a Chiss, a race widely respected for their ability to command yet something told Law that there were forces other than her birth that gave her that right. Such was her aura that Law only half noticed the arrival of Galahad Degore beside him.​

"Report" The High Knight Marshal said curtly.​

"Ma'am, Knight Errant Jekadius Lawson reporting as ordered. I have just arrived along with my master Knight Vatn Yeneth, we landed north of the complex and ran into a group of Kubaza beetles however it was a smaller group and they didn't seem to have numbers nearby. I was told to get orders ma'am, where do you need us?" Jekadius got the words out without his voice betraying him, even if his insides decided this would be a nice time to see how tight they could twist together.​

Law hoped that the walking fortress next to him would have more to say, it seemed that the Marshal had expected more information not a new recruit almost half way through his life trying not to stutter through introductions.​

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

I've been having these weird thoughts lately...​

...like, is any of this real? Or not?​

​

He was falling. Yet, he was floating at the same time. Suspended, as if drifting through the time between moments, the space between seconds. His vision was obscured. The world around him shrouded, as though he were peering through smoke and trying to catch some pale reflection in a mirror, darkly. ​

​

All around him was fire. Yet, it flowed like water. Trickling down in shimmery sparkles that were like a rain of fine embers. Or fireflies, falling from the sky.​

​

He tried to make sense of what he saw, yet his mind seemed numb. Sluggish. As soon as a thought would start to emerge, it was gone as quickly as it had arrived. Like, some part of him were slipping away. Further, further away. Just out of reach.​

​

He imagined that he looked up and saw two people waiting for him, except their faces were obscured. He could make out the shape or form, but nothing more. Just strangers. Blank faces peering at him through the smoke and haze, as both he and the fire came crashing down.​

He awoke with a start.

A flurry of bubbles erupted with the sudden gasp that escaped his lungs. Panic seized hold, as he realized he was submerged in fluid. Tubes were pressing against his throat, jutting up through his nose as a mask seemed to hold his mouth shut. His hand shot out, reaching for some sign that someone or something was there.

A dull thud reverberated as his hand struck against the glass.

Through the gaps in the bubbles of his panicked breathing, the image of reality began to take shape for him. He could see the infirmary on the other side of the glass. He was in a bacta tank.

For a moment, he felt as though he couldn't move his left arm.

Then he remembered, it wasn't there.

NIV BASILEUS
In orbit of Aeten II

It was surreal, watching -- experiencing -- being fitted with the prosthetic. As they connected the arm to him, it was attached to him. He could move it, manipulate the joints, even wag his fingers. But it didn't feel as though it were his arm.

What an odd thought. What did an arm feel like? Had he ever thought about it before?

"Ow," the youth uttered. His hand outstretched, the medical droid was fine turning the tactile inputs that would feed from touch points in the digits and supply impulses to his nervous system. A panel in the underside of the wrist was open, exposing the tubing and wires that ran like veins through the cybernetic appendage.

As the droid finished up the work of fine tuning the prosthetic, a nurse was applying kolto strips to the left side of his body. The merger of man and machine had left angry, raw skin at the juncture where the cybernetic ports had replaced the shoulder joint and several ribs. The synthskin covering closely matched his normal complexion, which meant that the skin irritation made clear which part of his skin was actually him.

"You received a message from your parents."

The nurse was a Force Sensitive. An Asklepion, whatever that meant. Doctor? Medic? It was another part of the surreal nature of everything. Waking up one day and being told that you were both dead and a wizard. And now aboard a star destroyer in the Imperial Force Corps.

Had he known before that he was Force Sensitive? He couldn't have said. Like the recollection of his parents, it was like trying to see faces in a dark mirror. There, yet not. With the nurse's help, the boy hopped off the exam table and started to dress in his Imperial Cadet uniform. "Oh, okay," the boy remarked halfheartedly, as he pulled the dark shirt on over his head.

The Asklepion handed him the white jacket. "Do you remember your parents?" the woman asked, pointedly.

Could she read his thoughts? Could she see through the lies? "Sure," the boy offered in the same noncommittal tone, swinging the jacket around as he thrust his arms into the sleeves and then shrugged it on.

"What does your mother look like?"

A stranger. Images of two, indistinct form peering down at him through smoke and fire. A voice? Mayhaps, but it was as if it were just out hearing.

When she saw his hesitation, a hand lay on his shoulder. "Come back here when you're ready to view the message," the Asklepion remarked firmly, before adding, "A new page shouldn't keep the High Marshal waiting." At that, she asked, "Do you know how to find your way to the hangar?"

Zipping the jacket up, the boy felt as though he were at last finding something he could recognize. This felt familiar. This uniform. He remembered this. Glancing up, the boy gave an Atrisian bow as he answered, "Yes, ma'am. Thank you."

He may not remember where he came from, but it seemed that the path forward was very clear for him. And that was voyaging to a place called Aeten II, where he would present himself to someone called Imperial Warlord Zovesa