Dominion In the Shadow of Doom | NIO Dominion of Diab

[Whispers of Annihilation]

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Operation: Shatterpoint Overview

Following the Battle of Coreesh Gulch, the remaining forces of the Council of Enlightened Elders have fled the Veroleem System and escaped deeper into wild space. Leaving a small force behind to protect the planet, a fleet led by the Sovereign-Imperator, Irveric Tavlar himself, pursues the Cultist Insurgency Cells. Joined by his closest allies, Kor Vexen and Vaulkhar Zambrano, the Epitaph II exits hyperspace only to be immediately engaged by the opposing forces. Surrounded, the Order’s fleet begins a dogged defense over Diab as they try and hold out until reinforcements arrive. ​

Objective I // Operation: Shatterpoint // Diab

The Epitaph II is besieged and in danger of destruction. Strap on your helmets, ready your ion cannons and ride out to overcome the enemies of the empire. With nowhere left to run, the cultists in service to the Council of Enlightened Elders have unwittingly marched unto death’s door. Finish the job for them and put the pathetic force-worshipping cultists out of their misery once and for all. ​

Objective II // Operation: ‘God Slayer’ // Diab 6

Unbeknownst to the public, a Jedi Prison known as the Prism was recently discovered in the shadow of one of Diab’s moons. Further investigation revealed the presence of a mad Jedi Master lording over the forgotten prison. A reconnaissance team assigned to observe the station disappeared forty-eight hours before the attack on Veroleem. Before the Sovereign-Imperator mounted an assault force, his Executor reassigned a number of specialists to a recently created Task Force dubbed, ‘God Slayer’, and sent them to conquer the Prism and clear out the rabble held up within.​

 

[Logan]

T H E _ H O R D E
| Objective | 1 - Board the Epitaph II
| Location | In space

"I am hungry," Vlekir moaned.

Logan nearly spat out the freshly grinded Pta fruit that he'd been consuming. Dribbles of the squashed and churned fruit escaped the gear-teeth of his maw and the Lugubraa elder turned to his bemoaning counterpart. His thermal signature slouched, pointing at either signs of depression or being sucked deep into his thoughts to plot on how to gain more things to consume.

"You had better be hungering for the Word of the Gods," Logan spat back, fruit flying. "When they call, we answer. When we answer, they provide for us."

So far, it had been true.

Diab had appeared to be an ample placement for his horde. Teeming dozens of them had made their appearance in small towns and starports. The native Iriaz had satiated the meaty desires of many of their younger brethren and the grains and harvest were a close second in taste. This fruit, which Logan had procured from a formerly living vendor, didn't taste half bad either. But it paled in comparison to the sweet and filling succulence that only fresh meat could bring.

They'd stumbled across this Sith Cult as if it had been fate.

Some prophets and monks offered food and even more so offered to regale the Lugubraa horde with tales of the The One True Gods.

Many had been convinced. Even Logan.

Vlekir's head drooped. Logan was two seconds away from reaching out with a prehensile limb and smacking the thing into next week.

This was their chance. To finally discover an inexhaustible source of consumables in exchange for their service.

With that in mind, Logan rose from his seat on the mat. He groaned once, straining to stand. A hand brushed over his belly, the form of one of their new brethren forming. The elder gave it a loving rub, the infantile splitling wriggling in response. Clicking curiously, Logan floated freely in space. For all intents and purposes, his kind did not need air or any sort of gravity to survive. Their Overlords of the One True Cult had been dumping his horde out into the open void of space for hours now.

All around him heat signatures wriggled and floated absently. Many of them were wearing very primitive equipment. Basic durasteel armor, Viscera scatterguns, and whatever snacks and rations they had greedily clutched to. It did not take long for the large durasteel object to lurch out of hyperspace. As if on cue, thousands of his horde had immediately began "swimming" towards it. His kind were not smart but they were not stupid either.

They had turned their scatterguns into jetpacks. Thousands of them fired their extra shells into the void, propelling themselves towards the hulking shape of a star destroyer. Many friendly fire casualties occurred - and their bleeding corpses were promptly cannibalized without remorse. In fact, many of the Lugubraa targeted their own for a quick snack. But where one fell and perished, dozens more were ready to take their place.

Kill. Crush. Consume.​

 

[Avernus]

Objective II - OPERATION GOD SLAYER
Location - Avernus' Personal Upsilon-class Shuttle - Vessel Designation: DEICIDE 1 - En Route to the Prism
Apprentice(s) In Attendance - Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Zhani Amadine (possibly)
Tags - Tarrik Kestis | Vaulkhar | Lucien Dooku

OFFICIAL DARTH AVERNUS DOMINION DRIP ​

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Avernus' shuttle flew out from behind the dark side of Diab 6 and began to make a crest along the curvature of the planet. The Prism slowly began to come into view from around the planet's curvature as they made their approach. Rather than use an underling or faceless soldier as a pilot, Avernus took the control himself alongside his apprentice. There was something much more satisfying about flying to and from yourself rather than being chauffeured around.

The Viceroy of Christophsis handed over full control of the vessel to his apprentice as he stood from his seat and walked into the area behind the cockpit. He pressed a button on the wall of the shuttle and a minibar haphazardly shot out from a slot that revealed itself. He leisurely mixed and poured himself a cocktail as Lyra continued to pilot the ship. He began to return to the pilot seat when he remembered that there were other passengers on the shuttle. He stopped and looked at them for a moment before hitting the button again to retract the minibar and returning to his seat.

As the shuttled made its approach to the Prism, there was surprisingly no resistance, or, at least not yet. Avernus flipped a few switches as they entered through an atmospheric shield and into the receiving hangar of the prism. The wings of the Upsilon-class shuttle began to raise as the landing gear retracted from the inside of the craft. With a small thud, they touched down in the hangar, still yet to face opposition. The disturbance felt in the force was palpable to all those capable of feeling it.

Something was coming.

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

​

// SOVEREIGN //
// OBJECTIVE // Operation: Shatterpoint
// FOCUS // Logan
// THEME // Absolute Classic Banger ngl

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The pulsing alarm of the Epitaph II's security system blared throughout the battlecruiser as soon as it was besieged upon by the dark cultists. Even still as they crawled in the shadow of the Sith Empire, the adherents to the Dark side were never far behind the New Imperial Order as if willed

"Fitting..." Irveric let out, grinding his teeth against one another as he stood at the helm of the star destroyer emblazoned with the symbol of his personal Legion, the "Punished" on either flank of the vessel. He was never comfortable in space. Even with several thick layers of shielding and hull metal making an all but impervious casing around him. Even still it felt so perilous

"Should we recall Operation God Slayer, Sir? Sensors are picking up multiple boarding parties coming board." A helmswoman sounded out in the direction of Tavlar who shook his head curtly in response.

"No...dispense every remaining element aboard to assail them." The scorned Lord General said before he was interrupted by another bridge personnel.

"Apologies sir but...we're reading another signal...some sort've...space hulk headed toward the ship, cloud of lifeforms on the scanner." The helmsmand says.

"Understood...scramble the fighters to intercept it , target the damned thing with the broadside but everything else target down these cultists." Tavlar orders out before he furrows his gaze out from the bridge view port. Outside of pure maneuvering and firepower, Tavlar maligned the pure helplessness of naval combat. War on the ground felt far more real.

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

Objective II : Operation: ‘God Slayer’ // Diab 6
Location : Upsilon-class Shuttle - Vessel Designation: DEICIDE 1 - En Route to the Prism
Tags : Avernus Tarrik Kestis Vaulkhar Lucien Dooku

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Lyra had to wonder if she would crack the controls with how tightly she gripped them. Piloting the shuttle had not been a concern but a flash of orange caught her eye, the Sith Lords's garb smacking her shoulder when he stood. The woman had never been more robbed of her pride. The cabin slowly became too small for her taste, flipping the switches along the ship's control panel, the flight drawn out into an insufferable affair. Genesis had been cycled back to Niraun and the request from the Sith had been met with tentative agreement. Regret tasted disgusting on her tongue, no troopers at her back and stripped of her armor; she was a fish out of water.

A soldier's habits died hard.

Diab 6, just another habitable moon as far as she could tell from the briefing and plagued with another brand of cultist madness. They just knew how to pick ‘em?. The last deployment fresh on her mind from the brush with the Sith acolytes. Narrowing her eyes, she reached up to drag the hood of her robes back; the layers nonessential and tiring.

Studying adrift prison, it was too quiet as they began the approach and she silently awaited some form of bombardment; tension rolled off her in waves. Entering the shadow of the hangar, she thrumbed through the landing procedures before noticing the cocktail in the hand of the ‘Viceroy’. The sight of him setting her rage off as a noise bubbled in her throat.

"Day drinking is appropriate yet you had a problem with my rifle?" she hissed to him.

 

[Davis Garrick]

// BUCKETHEAD - 3 //
// OBJECTIVE // OPERATION: SHATTERPOINT // REPEL THE BOARDING PARTIES //
// FOCUS // Irveric Tavlar | Belisarius | Logan | Hadrian Javik | Sam 'Tempest' Deckard | Cheapshot

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Corporal Davis "Wraith" Garrick raced down the long corridors of the Epitaph II, his favored sniper left behind in place of something more fitting for the ship's defense. He held the rifle close to his chest with his left hand and raised his right hand, motioning to the squadron of troopers behind him to take a right at the next intersection. Taken by surprise yet again, the Stormtrooper Corps had one helluva day, and it wasn't a good one. Fortunately, a few more twists and turns through the interior of the ship would place them at an estimated entry point for a craft carrying a group of Sith cultists. Nothing better than gunning down spineless cowards in service to an ancient, rather than something more tangible and realistic.​

​

"Wraith reporting in, we've reached hangar 2B and are holding position to meet our uninvited guests," Garrick slid behind the wing of a TIE-fighter left in the wake of the emergency and lifted his weapon. Minutes went by before a dropship containing the cloaked boarding party passed into the hangar and began to land. "We've got cloaks in sight people! Weapons free the moment that ramp drops, we've got hundreds of these bastards to kill!" he shouted out to the men taking up positions throughout the hangar. ​

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As if on queue, the ramp descended, and a band of darkly garbed misfits pushed down the slope, while others dropped from the side and moved to find cover. Unfortunately for their guests, there wasn't anything but the open hangar floor for dozens of feet between them and the defending party. Garrick didn't have to repeat himself. The sight of a single beam of energy discharged from his rifle signaled the defensive had truly begun. One after another, the Sith-cultists hit the floor, small plumes of smoke rising from their limp bodies. In no time at all, the two dozen offenders littered the ground.​

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"Darrow, Marv, you're with me. We're clearing the ship," Wraith called out to the two nearest troopers before moving towards the boarding ship. Each of them fell in behind him, all three training their weapons before them as they slowly pushed up the ramp. Garrick dropped to a knee and waited. A second later, Darrow tossed a grenade into the open threshold with the customary 'flash out.' Once it popped, the trio swept into the ship. Turning a corner, Garrick popped one of the cultists who stayed behind and turned to look elsewhere. A second cloak hiding aboard the vessel shoulder tackled the trooper and slammed him into a wall. Wraith grunted on impact and lifted his rifle as if to slam it against his unseen assailant, only for Marv to beat the point-man to the punch and blast a burning hole into the side of the cultist's head.​

​

"Good shit, boys. Regroup with the others and await further orders. I'm going to report to command," Garrick commanded the duo before following them out and down the ramp. He activated his commlink and patched through to the Epitaph II's command deck. "Corporal Garrick reporting. We've cleared 2B and are holding position. Where are we needed?"​

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"You're in 2B?" a distraught voice came back over the line. "You need to get the hell out of there, now corporal! We've got unidentified bogeys barreling down on your position. There are hundreds, if not thousands of these things bearing down on you right now!"​

​

Wraith cursed and pointed towards sprinted towards the blast door.​

​

"Let's go, boys! Unidentified threats en route, we need to get the hell out of here!" Davis shouted out as the group dashed after him. The door slid open, and he raced through. The squad of stormtroopers cleared the hall, only to come face to face with a slithering mass of Lugubraa. "Ah shit," he pivoted and turned back to the hangar blast door as the last of his men raced through. Catching sight of the strange aliens breaching through the durasteel plating around the shield, he raised his rifle and blasted the blast door's controls. "Fan out, men. We're turtling up and holding out until someone can reach us."​

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The corporal dropped to a knee on the corner of the hall, popping off a stream of shots to finish off as many as he could. He once more activated his commlink, patching into the frequency used most frequently by Buckethead-Squadron.​

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"This is Wraith. My boys and I are pinned outside of hangar 2B and being swarmed by a mass of Lugubraa. We're trapped an in need of evac ASAP."​

 

[Marlon Sularen]

Location | Torment , In orbit of Diab
Objective | Operation Shatterpoint
Forces | Relentless | Cataclysm | Vanquisher | x10 Tie Drone Squadrons [240 Total] | x12 Tie Outlander Squadrons [192 Total] | x6 Tie Mauler Squadrons [48 Total] | 6x Tie Bruiser Squadrons [48 Total]
Direct Tags | Irveric Tavlar

After the NIO's Victory at Veroleem , the Council of Enlightened Elders were on the run. Having been decisively defeated by the New Imperial Order they fled to the near by system of Diab , home to an ancient secret Jedi Prison known as the Prism. However as the New Imperial Armada chased them into Diab , the New Imperial Fleet of Irveric Tavlar found itself suddenly under attack by the remnants of the Cult of Veroleem now making their last stand against the New Imperial Order.

Wraith Squadron , consisting of the Torment , the Relentless , the Cataclysm and the Vanquisher quickly jumped out of hyperspace arriving a few thousand meters from the current Battle. Wraith Squadron wasn't designed for direct combat and was more of a support fleet but they were the first ones to come to the aid of the Soveriegn Imperator.

Standing on the Bridge of the Torment was Captain Marlon Sularen of Wraith Squadron having led his Fleet in repelling a Sith-Imperial Vessl on Veroleem with aid of Captain Merlon Assail. Now on Diab Marlon was ready to show the Soverign Imperator what he was made off.

"Contact the Soverign Imperator and alert him that Captain Sularen and Wraith Squadron have arrived to aid his forces. " Captain Sularen ordered. "In addition I want all available Fighter Squadrons to rienforce the Epitaph II and to destroy any non-NIO vessel present in the system."

With the Fleet staying behind , the First Fighter Squadrons exited the hangar as they headed towards the Epitaph II and the forces beseiging them to ensure that the Soverign Imperator was safe from any sort of threat. And so the Battle over Diab had begun.

 

[Silver Shield Group]

// OBJECTIVE: Operation Shatterpoint
// ENTRY NUMBER: 1

// LOCATION: Epitaph II - Repurposed Medical Bay
// CURRENT CONCERN: Unseal the Hushed Casket

// ATTN: Irveric Tavlar | Davis Garrick | Logan

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Darth Tumelos arrived like a blast of cold wind: quickly, and jolting the technicians to attention.​

​

He was a red-skinned Neimoidian, cybernetically outfitted with data-goggles and a Vocabulator. He was difficult to look at, for reasons of both intimidation and squeamishness.​

​

The technicians, a pair of Chiss twins, abandoned their work. Likely just making adjustments to the pod based on the occupant’s vitals. Adek and Evesh were not his primary concern. They were mere apprentices, and he had yet to meet a Chiss he found tolerable.​

​

The Verpine they were being supervised by, Knight-Artificer Suskar. That was who he wanted.​

​

“Welcome home, Master-Artificer,” Suskar said, failing to move from the wall he leaned against.​

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“The Epitaph has taken on hostile boarders,” Tumelos droned, either incapable of or disinterested in pleasantries. “The field test will be conducted now.”​

​

Verpine were not, altogether, very expressive. But Tumelos sensed rising anxiety. Distrust.​

​

“I’m not sure that’s–”​

​

“This concern has been noted and will be reflected in the reports,” Tumelos continued, now looking to the technicians. “Open it.”​

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Adek and Evesh shared a discomforted look before moving to their stations.​

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- - -​

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Gas vented from the stasis pod in thick streams, clouding the vision of those assembled. A heavy clunk signaled the disengagement of the locking mechanism, and the door slowly peeled open.​

​

The pod’s single occupant clutched the sides of his containment unit and heaved himself out. He hit the floor with a metal clank. This was the flagship specimen of a new generation of Dark Trooper. ​

​

Dull, grey power armor accented with red, modeled in the style of the classical Stormtroopers at specific request. And also a jetpack the size of a small child.​

​

He stood a head taller than Tumelos, even without accounting for the Darth’s bad posture. And despite the Dark Trooper’s obvious physical presence and the energy that coursed through its armor, Tumelos sensed not a shred of the person inside.​

​

The thing. This Dark Trooper was dead to the Force – completely and artificially severed from the Galaxy’s binding animus. An abomination to some, a scientific marvel to others.​

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“D-T-F forty-two oh six dash nine, reporting.” The Dark Trooper spoke in a synthetic baritone, doubtlessly filtered by helmet systems. ​

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A string of text flitted across Tumelos’ field of vision. His brow rumpled. “Who assigned that serial number?”​

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Suskar clicked his mandibles. “He did. Just now.”​

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While DTF was technically under his direct command, Tumelos was not altogether keen on arguing with it. “Diagnostics?”​

​

Edek and Avesh knew better than to call it out. They transmitted directly to Tumelos’ data-goggles, flooding the Neimoidian’s vision with information on DTF’s armor systems and vitals. It practically blotted out the Dark Trooper.​

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All optimal.​

​

Then there was no reason to wait. “Friendly forces have been pinned down in Hangar 2B. You are to relieve them. All relevant data has been transmitted to your HUD.”​

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DTF’s initial response was to roll his shoulders; crack his knuckles. It sounded like buckling steel. ​

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“I need a weapon.”​

​

“Apprentice Adek. Give him your sidearm.”​

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Adek did his best to appear puzzled. “Master Tumelos, I'm not authorized to carry a-”​

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“You are not,” Tumelos intoned. “But you carry one anyway. Because you are prideful. And scared. And stupid. Like all aristocra brats. Give him your sidearm.”​

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Adek glowered, then wavered. He produced a charric pistol that had been hidden on his person, and surrendered it to the Dark Trooper with a miserable grimace. Evesh cupped a hand around her mouth and pretended not to have giggled ruthlessly.​

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Tumelos watched with growing impatience as DTF examined the pistol, acclimatizing himself to the sights and feel. “Are you satisfied?”​

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DTF holstered the pistol. “Yes.”​

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“Then proceed.”​

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DTF turned on his heel. With heavy, ominous footsteps, proceeded from the medical bay. The doors slammed shut and magnetized behind him, leaving the room in an eerie silence.​

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“He seems nice,” Suskar chittered.​

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“Remain at your stations, monitor his progress,” Tumelos said, skulking back the way he came. “I want usable metrics from this.”​

 

[Kaleo Malistern]

Objective II - OPERATION GOD SLAYER
Sub-scene Capitalism
Directly in scene: Smeg
Allies elsewhere: Avernus Tarrik Kestis Vaulkhar Lucien Dooku Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt

Kaleo Malistern didn't really consider himself a 'God Slayer' per se.

A 'God Kicker' at best.

But when Command gave the order that was that. A detachment of elite troopers were supposed to breach the Prism. Establish a beachhead and make sure that the strike force had a clean entry. It had been madness from the get-go. They breached the hangars, but the nutcase Jedi Lord had rows of turrets already primed and loaded at them.

Not really a 'peace loving' Jedi that one.

They fought for every inch. Bled, suffered, hurt. Until they managed to secure the hangar bays. This would be the prime spot for Avernus and his people to land, while a smaller group of Stormtroopers were tasked to scout the corridors ahead.

No unnecessary risks. Just making sure there would be no more additional surprises.

Well, you didn't have to tell Malistern twice not to take any risks. The word 'unnecessary' was lost in translation. Somehow Kaleo lost track of his group. There had been a firefight, his radio got busted, you know... the usual. These corridors were all the fething same too, so that didn't help. For some reason the Corporal ended up at a storage room.

One of the places the crazed Jedi kept supplies, because the Lord might be insane, but even mad men had to eat.

"Oh, well, this is looking better already..." Kaleo murmured, visor casting around the rows and rows of supplies. "Dang sure I can fetch a good price for some of this..."

Yes.

While his compatriots were trying to secure a beachhead, this malcontent stumbled upon an entrepreneurial opportunity. A hiss accompanied the detachment of his helmet. That thing was sweaty as all hell anyway. Time to see just what they got here. Maybe find a hover-cart, tuck away the good stuff behind a loose tile or something.

There were always ways to make a profit, while not risking your hide.

 

[Ravraa Vyshraal]

Location: Prism
Task: Objective Two - Godslayer
Faction: New Imperial Order

Theme
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Ravraa, like all of the other stormtroopers in the RDAGx gunship, knew the score of the mission. It was a silent flight, with only the temperamental hums of the Ion Drives of the vessel to keep the men company inside of their betaplast suits. They had been briefed appropriately on the task at hand, what they could reasonably expect, and a general survival rate. The men and women that would join the voyage would only be volunteers, a young up-star officer had preached to Ravraa and the rest of the men in a poorly lit room before they funneled to the transport. That was true, one could tell from just looking at the amount of soldiers stacked inside of the vessel. Eight, no more, no less, many of them clean. Armor never decorated by stripes or the callsigns of a specific unit, no blazons to indicate rank or reason, instead, save the single commander that had joined them and the officer himself, they were the rank and file norm. White betaplast on white betaplast on black bodygloves. Six privates, a single commander, and a single officer would be the supporting squad in dealing with this Jedi incursion. Occasionally, they would be given stimulus by the gunship shaking or jerking slightly as the pilot tried to make pinpoint decisions on distance, speed, and angle. They were told that the pilot proper would double the gunship back to the Epitaph II. There would be no sense in keeping the vessel grounded in what could be a possibly hostile environment. When they needed evac, they were told, the commanding elements of their squads would signal for it. They were told that there was going to be other command elements located once they landed proper, and that these would be apparent once they saw them, and that the chain of command would be easy to tell by sight. This was told to them not by the youthful officer, but an older man in grey that had stepped into the briefing room near the end of the service.

They also had been told they were far from the first unit that had been sent in to deal with the situation.

The vessel curved and cut through the voidspace, staying clicks within distance of the shuttle that they were told to follow, and follow well they did. The gunship managing to keep the vessel within nearly earshot for the entire trip, Ravraa swearing he could hear the hum of her engines.

Eventually, the entire gunship would be enveloped by the blackness of the Prism hangerbay. Eclipsing into the dark as the engines slowly began to die down, and the symphony of carbines charging their powercells filled the vessel. The doors to the gunship hissed before slowly starting to drag themselves up and away from the main body of the craft, the lighting difference between the bleakness of the gunship and the endless night of the hanger something that could hardly be noticed. None the less, the stormtroopers rushed out of the vessel, forming two lines on either side of the exit, as the commander and officer made their way out. Momentarily after, the entire deployment would create a set of two lines, ending with the pauldroned commander and the black haired officer. Ravraa took notice of the pre-established presence of some more wayword and wandering troopers in the hangerbay, though they didn't seem to snap to the same attention that his squad had at the landing of the shuttle. They waited now, for the higherups to depart.

The gunship's engines roared to life again as it lifted, turned, and left the hanger. The ion engines slowly vanishing into nether.

Nothing but robes, blasters, and durasteel for miles.

---
//tags Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Tarrik Kestis Vaulkhar Lucien Dooku Kaleo Malistern Avernus

 

[Volgin Alto]

// STINKFIST //
// OBJECTIVE // Operation: Shatterpoint
// FOCUS // Davis Garrick

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<"Copy, Wraith."> Javik patched through to his comrade before he let off several curses under his breath. Advancing down the corridor with a small fire team in tow each of them were nearly rocked from their already uneven footing as nother boarding pod slammed into the ship. Javik braced himself against a wall, clutching his particle beam carbine tightly in his hands before levying down range toward the cloud of smoke in the wake of the clawing entry of the pod, the pressurized doors unsealing for three cultists to come barreling out of the ship and into the Epitaph's corridor.

No order needed for the Sergeant and the rest of his men to lay down frantic waves of crimson bolts down range toward the robed Sith neophytes before soon enough all but charred flesh, chipped durasteel and black gaberwool was all that was left in their wake.

<"We good? Alright we're hittin' 2B to back up ol' Bugeye himself."> Javik let out before they continued down the corridor. Given the urgency in the Scout Trooper's tone, what might've been a meticulous and methodical sweep turned into a nigh run before they passed an open hangar bay within which the cracking of blaster fire sounded out in the symphony of death between more of the Sith boarders and Stormtroopers aboard.

<"Which one's this? 2C? Ah ol' Belisarius is in there they'll be fine its gotta be this next one, let's move."> Stinkfist offered before he waved his hand to usher his men to move on again after he took a second to glance toward the aurebesh script inlaid unto the wall above the hangar bay doors.

<"Wraith we're near your locale, what's the rundown? You said something about Lugubraa?"> He patched through to the scout trooper.

 

[Trajan Fett]

​

// MANCATCHER //
// OBJECTIVE // OPERATION GOD SLAYER
// FOCUS // Davis Garrick | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Tarrik Kestis | Avernus | Kaleo Malistern | Lucien Dooku | Smeg

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Never a bad day to tuck in some Jedi. If the Mando could find little else in common with a vast majority of the New Imperial Order, they could match that at least. Even if so, a repaired business relationship with the Sith Pureblood newly 'elected' (purchased) Viceroy of Christophsis (office formerly held by Gat Tambor) and the new found alliance between these Imperials and the Sons Of Mandalore which had been sealed on their enclave hidden away on Krieg meant Trajan didn't have to keep such blurry political affiliations in the wake of the Sith rampaging over his stolen homeland of Concordia. He could now take up arms against them while in the best interests of his people and his finances.

Stepping from the shuttle the Mandalorian rolled his shoulders before unslinging his 'Drago' pattern disruptor carbine as the group embarked into the Prism.

"Let's not wake up the whole damn place. I say we split off in pairs, I'll have the 'Prince' tag along with me unless you Sith have plans otherwise." The hunter proposed, leaning the gun against his shoulder as he looked between the Sith as they emerged from the vessel. Slamming a fist against Dooku's shoulder in a faint nudge, picking the man from the group if only because he didn't emit the same aura of dark power as the others that even in the Pureblood's flamboyant visage, was well and truly unnerving. Or at least, might've been had Trajan not been the Mandalorian warrior he was.

 

[Smeg]

Objective 2: God Slayer
The Quest for a Peaceful Nap
Tag: Kaleo Malistern

In the dark of the supply room there lurked a slumbering monster.

Well, until the light sensors flickered to life revealing that said slumbering monster was actually just Smeg, the oversized albino Skraal.

In his travels across the galaxy, convenience and coincidence had found him here. Well, technically his nose had led him to the food. Grit and determination for the next feast had allowed him to get by largely undetected and undisturbed, granting the large rodent all the permission he needed to eat himself into a moderately comfortable food coma.

Until now.

He hissed and squinted at the sudden brightness that permeated through closed eyelids and his initial reaction was to roll upon his belly to avoid disturbing his sensitive vision. However, Smeg was so uncomfortably full, that this was no solution to the newfound discomfort and h-

“NYEH!”

Surrounding his gluttonous form was a hurricane of discarded packaging. His powerful teeth having gnawed through a great many cans that had once held a glorious array of long-life goods, from pudding to beans all the way to dubiously pink meat. He'd even come across an industrial-sized bag of dried pasta and had crunched an impressive dent through the staple ingredient.

Less concerned with being found and more concerned about having to share his treasure trove Smeg hissed once more through the rows of shelving at the source of light and once more returned to laying upon his back, his furry belly proudly distended.

“Go awayz!” the son of Smeg demanded (oddly enough, he was speaking to the bright lights) in his half-groggy state, “Smegz iz tryin to SLEEPZ!”

 

[Kaleo Malistern]

Objective II - OPERATION GOD SLAYER
Take out the Competition
Directly in scene: Smeg

His rifle was in his arms, before he could blink twice.

Nervous reaction. You understand. The life of a career soldier was rarely a peaceful one, after all. He had been expecting a number of things. Maybe a crazy Jedi frothing at the mouth about serenity. Some janitor he had to take care of. Service droids... sure. All of the above made sense, but Kaleo had no reason to believe there would be a fething fat RAT in front of him.

A rat that was currently eating his merchandise.

His like Kaleo wasn't about to steal it himself. "Hey, what are you doing here!" Like that wasn't obvious with some of the crates being devoid of food. The wrappers still flying about. It seemed the rat (Smegz?) wasn't good with light.

"You want me to turn off the lights, you better start talking!"

The rifle's optical light suddenly flared on too.

Kaleo by his own nature wasn't inclined towards cruelty. It was far too likely to fire back at you. Someone in a position of power one day, could suddenly find them at the mercy of the universe the next. But this was just unbelievable. Two seconds ago Kaleo thought he hit the jackpot. Now he was seeing his loot had already been cut in half.

The rifle slumped down just a little bit, away from its eyes.

"I giveth and I taketh away!" That... was very ... awkwardly phrased, but at this point Kaleo didn't give a chit anymore.

 

[Tarrik Kestis]

Objective: 2 - Godslayer
Nearby: Ravraa Vyshraal Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Lucien Dooku Trajan Fett Avernus

When he had heard of this particular mission, the one to the so-called "Ghost Prison" The Inquisitor was intrigued. It had been weeks since the battle he was in, and with each passing day, he was convinced with a sort of zealotry fervor, that the days of what once was law and order would come. With the New Order slowly rising to end the reign of the Sith and bring about some peace in the galaxy. That would come through the revelation of the New Order. Imperial flags reigning across the galaxy, that time, however, was not now. Now despite his devotion to the New Order, and even his master he had concentrated his eyes on the mission. Traveling with a group of Imperials all of them with the squad designation of "Godslayer." They had all arrived to Diab 6, the middle of nowhere most would say. A rock that proved of no value, but something had. The Prism, a structure centuries old and in his findings the First Brother had been lucky enough to find a copy of the Ghost Prison Incident. Reading of a close account of the Gentis Coup, and the work of Darth Vader to end traitors that were trying to do to Sidious, that they were trying to do to the Zambrano clan.

It was through the report he had read that he regarded the mission itself that of a holy pilgrimage. To stand where Vader had once stood, to feel what he felt was a great honor. Now Kestis would be on his way to it, perhaps when it was all finished it could be used against the Force using enemies of the New Order, as designed for it's purpose. For now, he couldn't say, snapping away from his thoughts he simply stood on board the landing craft. He could feel the tension thick in the air, he could feel that perhaps he would be found unwelcome, many that did not know him found him unsettling, even disturbing from the apparatus attached to his face. Despite all that he had been brought for perhaps one of his first and exciting tasks to hunt down a Jedi. With his skills and gear that he had, he was ready to take whatever could come for failure meant death.

When the shuttle had reached the opening of the prison, the Inquisitor slowly stepping off, looking around as he was with the squad, going about how they approached it. As soon as First Brother had stared into the depths of the prism, a chill ran up his spine. As if he felt cold like no other, a dark shadow of dread hung over them that had reminded him of his master. A dark-clad figure of shadow, a strange sound emitted that found the Inquisitor petrified for the moment as the figure seemed to walk towards him. Then just like that, it vanished, wondering what he had felt and witnessed, as he felt great anger, urgency, and most of all death. This was the shadow of Vader that had left it's mark on this place.

Looking around to the others as he pulled his saber from his back. Activating the crimson blade, looking back to the others he said with his own urgency. "In either case I will go, the Rogue Jedi is waiting if others seek to enter the dark abyss. Please follow me if you dare." He said, with a single blade ignited he could feel the presence of their target. He wandered in the dark ready to strike.

 

[Smeg]

Objective 2: God Slayer
Raise Your Hand If You've Ever Been Personally Victimised By Big People
Tag: Kaleo Malistern

First all this light and now noise? How incredibly rude. If he had half a mind at all Smeg might have vowed to follow this man home, wait until he had a delicious, soporific meal and then interrupt his much-needed nap.

Too much effort, and far too petty for the rodent.

“Smeg mightz askz youz da same fing!” the Skraal responded defensively before his albinism-afflicted eyes were assaulted by the man's death torch, “GAH!”

Funnily enough, while Smeg wasn't the brightest bulb (certainly not in this room) in the galaxy, he was aware that harsh lights could be countered with sophisticated biological technology. Namely, shutting his eyes and then covering his paws with them. What else did he need his hands for in this scenario? He was perfectly nude as nature intended, wasn't going to suddenly pull a slugthrower out of his arse.

“Das not berry nice!” Smeg lamented with a pathetic wail, shuffling awkwardly with his eyes twice-covered, “Smeg iz wat dey call a foodz tourizt!”

Food tourism was not entirely accurate, smuggling yourself around the galaxy with the unknowing aid of underpaid and under-caring warehouse depot workers to raid stock rooms was something, but probably not food tourism.

“Smeg already knowz wat yoo iz!” he fired back with very accusatory tones, “Yoo iz one ov da bigz peepul, an dey all bulliez! So dat iz why yoo here! TO BULLY SMEGZ!”

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

​

// SOVEREIGN //
// OBJECTIVE // Operation: Shatterpoint
// FOCUS // Logan | Marlon Sularen | Davis Garrick | Belisarius

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"Its - Imperator its a hive of...Lugubraa, some are already boarding, sir." The helmswoman relayed with her voice dipped in several shades of deep concern.

"Sith cultists and...Lugubraa are threatening to bring down this ship?" Irveric inquired, not as a slight to anyone aboard but it was a deeply aggravating thought to imagine that a Star Destroyer meant to act as the tip of the spear in the coming war with the Sith Empire would be...well this was not a fitting fate to say the least. It only showed to prove the Imperator's disdain for the naval theatre of war.

"Understood, focus fire unto this hive until its done." Irveric ordered only before grounding his teeth against one another with a shake of his head.

"Seems we've received reflief from Wraith Squadron...they're deploying fighters to assail both of the threats." Another crewman offered in return to the Imperator who nodded in acknowledgement.

"Captain Sularen should know well enough what to do -- patch through to prioritize firepower on these...things before sweeping up the cultists. Our troopers can kill them outright but I'm not risking an infestation." Tavlar iterated.

"Understood, sir."

"Our comms are open, yes?" Tavlar said, levying a cold, artificial finger towards the bridge comms officer.

"Currently...yes, sir." He said in reply to which Tavlar nodded once more.

"Relay to the Shipmaster Kestus Bralor and Captain Merlon Assail to see if they can move their patrol groups to dig us out of this hole if you would." Tavlar all but commanded.

 

[Darth Kalyptos]

​

// BUGMAN //
// OBJECTIVE // Get on solid ground
// FOCUS // Logan | Davis Garrick
// THEME // Alrighty then...

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Mind Spiral was one hell of a drug. Finding himself hanging with the Lugubraa with the promise of producing them the finest spice here he was now neck deep in a legendary dose of the psychedelic when he emerged from the extraplanar net of being to the black starlit endless void of space. Confined into an archaic pressure suit with an attached EVA pack and a blaster rifle slung over his shoulder the Gand's beady eyes opened in awe, hoping against hope that he was still well entrenched into his psychedelic trip.

When he slowly realized he was embarking on a warped crusade against a full fledged New Imperial strike group he jostled himself into full consciousness before he slammed the switch of his jetpack to barrel toward the battlecruiser in terrified yet...even keeled silence. After all in the traditional laws of space, no one could hear him scream. Barreling into 2B (the hangar bay) alongside a group of the lugubraa he fired off a pulse of blaster shots into the air before throwing his helmet unto the durasteel floor and sprinting into the ship with a rather pathetic waddle of his insectoid Gand form. Lest anyone underestimate the fully learned Findsman.

 

[Norbert Wilhelm]

​

​

Wilhelm lay in his bunk, snoozing away as the sounds of his unconscious grumbles kept the silence from closing in. The stormtrooper mumbled something incoherent as he rolled over on his side, seeming to have a pleasant dream that was soon abruptly interrupted by the sound of the alarm klaxons going off. The piercing sound snapped the man out of his sleep as he seemed to jerk into consciousness, the slight movement having tipped the weight of his body over the edge of his bunk as he let out a yelp after falling out of it. He hit the metal floor with a loud thud as he groaned and rolled on his side, grabbing at his head as he pulled himself up. The door leading into his bunks opened up as a fully clad stormtrooper popped his head in, shouting at him, " Get your ass up and dressed Wilhelm. We've got company! " The still dazed Wilhelm scrambled to his feet as he started to gear up, donning his armor as he fumbled and grabbed his helmet.

The now awoken trooper quickly exited his bunks as he armed himself with his service blaster, following the rush of stormtroopers as they began to disperse across the numerous decks of the Epitaph II as it was being ambushed by dickheads in robes that worshipped magic and death; not much different from the Sith Empire for that matter, but dickheads nonetheless. To make things worse, they also had carnivorous space worms accompanying them as well.

There was chatter all over the radio as reports came in of the hostiles, some decks getting swarmed and overwhelmed by the invaders. The detachment of troopers Wilhelm was with was fairly occupied as well. One of the sealed off blast doors had been cut through by the boarding cultists, trying to push into the corridor that he and his squad had set up shop in, blaster fire being exchanged as they were being forced to funnel into their field of fire. The sound of blasterfire seemed to be drowned out by the shouts of Nordbert as he took cover behind some supply crates after a blaster bolt had struck a stacked crate mere inches from his face, " Are ya karkin kiddin' me right now? We've got cloaks and bugs? I thought we left that shab behind on Verorleem! " The sergeant next to him turned to Wilhelm as he shouted back, " Shut your goddamn mouth Wilhelm and start firing that goddamn bla- " The sentence was cut off as a blaster bolt slammed into the sergeant's head and snapped his head back at a sickening angle, the body following with the momentum of the shot as they landed flat on their back. Wilhelm cursed under his breath as he peeked from cover and returned fire.

Chatter on the comms was calling for backup and support, but for the time being, the stormtroopers with him were barely being able to hold their position let alone abandoning it to rescue and reinforce the others.

 

[Lucien Dooku]

THE PRISM, DIAB 6
OPERATION GOD SLAYER
TEAMING UP WITH Trajan Fett
K I L L P O P
-​

Lucien didn't have much to say as he stood off in the corner of the comfortable shuttle with his back lazily braced against the wall. The man known as Arvernus was so much of an eccentric character that it left Lucien even more speechless than the thought of where they were going in the first place. He'd come from the arid landscape of Verloeem victorious, and now he was tasked to accompany the group that were heading into the bowels of an ancient prison complex. Verloeem had consisted of dark-side cultists who collectively were numerous, yet overall were weak. Imperial counterattacks broke the back of their insurgency, and the one chance they had to slay the Order's elite General Vexen failed miserably in the end. He expected much of the same here, until he was present to see those assigned to the mission. A quick glance of the shuttle would easily contradict his assumptions, with the presence of Mandalorians, elite operatives and an Inquisitor spelling out that a more serious tone should be taken.

He almost felt a bit out of place in what looked like a sea of people who fit right in with hunting a group of force users being led by some Jedi Master gone mad. It might've been easier to digest if there wasn't a pure blooded Sith dressed in the worst clothing one could wear on a mission where combat was expected. Being brightly-colored in different shades of red and faintly resembled a giant Apokka with horns, it was almost impossible for Lucien to take the man serious whenever he looked at him directly. He could only assume his skills were equal to his eccentricity, as he couldn't imagine the Sovereign-Imperator would send him if the Sith wasn't worth his salt. Truly he was left dumbfounded as to what to think, and so he remained quiet in his corner of the shuttle until it landed and the group disembarked.

The tension didn't let up after the group exited off the shuttle either. Luckily one of the passengers spoke up to offer the group some sort of direction before the chill he felt down his spine manifested into something tangible to worry about. "Let's not wake up the whole damn place. I say we split off in pairs, I'll have the 'Prince' tag along with me unless you Sith have plans otherwise." The Mandalorian spoke up, finishing with a fist slamming into Lucien's shoulder to grab his attention. He was still getting use to openly being referred to as a Prince, even if he'd mostly heard it thrown at him facetiously. It was to be expected, with his family being installed by the Sith, but it was better than being perceived as weak, useless, or worse- a threat.

He glanced over to his "partner" with a straight face and gave the man a nod of approval towards his suggestion. "Yeah, that sounds fine with me, uh.." Luc responded as he took off his jacket and tied it around his waist. "Mando, work? Since I don't actually know your name." His attention shifted towards the Inquisitor, Tarrik Kestis, after the man implied that he was proceeding forwards even without anyone following his lead. Luc shrugged at the man, then turned back towards his newly acquired partner to continue where he stopped. "Either way-- Feel free to lead the way and i'll watch your back until we run into trouble." Personally he'd rather have avoided traveling with the Inquisitor and the Darth lord if he could, but if Trajan wanted to team up with them, he'd consider it. The Mandalorian was the preferred partner to have over the Darksiders of the group and the run of the mill troopers coming onboard.



Vaulkhar Tarrik Kestis Tarrik Kestis Ravraa Vyshraal Avernus Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt