Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Ison Corridor Ablaze [A Golden Company Tale.]

"We go where we wilt. We slay who we wilt. Let the Sun judge the righteousness of our deeds."
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The First Order was once a monolithic bastion of Imperialist ideals. They stretched across the stars and brought their Imperial truth and enlightenment to all that stood in their path; be it peaceably or by force. They were the supposed heirs of an ancient emperor and his promise to the known universe, fanatically intent on bringing every star system beneath their crimson banner. However, as they exponentially grew beyond their humble origins and cast down their most hated rivals -- they grew complacent. They rested atop their laurels and grew soft as time soldiered on. It seemed they were unable, and perhaps unwilling to see the cancers that ate them from within and from without until it was too late. It was their hubris that brought about their inevitable downfall; speeded forth by the reborn Ssi-Ruuvi Imperium.

It seemed those reptilian curs had caught the First Order unawares and managed to tear their manifested destiny asunder. At first, when the news began to spread, it was unbelievable. That authoritarian technocracy often proclaimed their technology was bleeding edge; that the rest of the galaxy found itself lagging behind their advances. If those declarations were true, then they should’ve seen this coming. They should’ve been able to repulse those creatures before they punched so deep into their territory, lest the mistakes of the past repeated themselves. Yet, as the data scrolled across a crystalline dataslate, Khonsu found himself laughing. The man held little love for the Imperial regime after they mistakenly decided to terminate their retainer contract with the Golden Company without prior notification.

Thus, when news of their demise spread across the HoloNet like wildfire? The Thyrsian knew it was time to collect on their outstanding debt. Sure, they could’ve done it any time before, and in following through with this daring venture -- they’d be labelled as opportunists. Since they were Mercenary Scum, such an appellation mattered little. There was also the chance of them being marked out as weak by their competition, but that too was of little consequence. The Golden Company was, and were the best Sellswords that credits could buy; their reputation could handle an inconsequential smear. With all that they’ve done, and were fated to do in the future -- such concerns were beneath them.

What mattered, and the only thing that mattered, in the end, was that the opportunity for collection presented itself. Much like the thunderous drums of war, it wasn’t something those mercenaries could easily throw by the wayside. Therefore, the Thychani Commander gave the order to muster in the Javin Oversector, in former Galactic Alliance space. It was unlikely that they’d encounter a First-Imperial presence in that area, but it was best to keep the element of surprise on their side. Especially if the Imperials were scattered to the winds by the Ssi-Ruuvi Vanguard. The Thyrsian’s knowledge on those reptilian curs was a few hundred years out-of-date, and thus they desired to adopt a cautious approach.

Well, that was until their detachment had reached the borders of what used to be First-Imperial space. It was there that they encountered the Ssi-Ruuvi Vanguard - and left nothing but molecular ash in their wake. They were weak, just as they were when they left their cluster twice before. How did this come to be; that the once mighty, and feared First Order come to be nothing more than craven wretches, beaten by a vast horde of space-bound reptiles? Khonsu was… disappointed. He was expecting more. He was expecting these once voracious conqueror's to put up a fight, to not go quietly into the night. Sure, they stood alone, but they were once all the stronger for it. That didn’t matter now. They withdrew from every front and found themselves assailed once again.

If fate was kind, their weakness would be expunged beneath the consecrating fire of Ssi-Ruuvi weapons. If they fought against the tidal press of destiny, then perhaps there might be something worthwhile that could be salvaged from the ashes if given time.

Their progress towards the Ison Corridor mirrored their initial successes against the advance force of reptilian curs, which left a sour taste on the Thychani Commander’s tongue. Were they simply charging into the fray, clearing a path for the First-Imperials to return, or where they simply pitted against the dregs of the Ssi-Ruuvi? He couldn’t tell, nor did he truly wish to weigh the odds. They’d take everything that they could get their hands on, and withdraw before a retaliatory First-Imperial force arrived, or run afoul of the true reptilian might.

Surely, this paltry rabble wasn’t their best. As it turned out, they were the best that the Ssi-Ruuvi had to offer. The advancements in technology that the Thyrsian’s employed swatted aside any opposition that those curs could muster; leaving their hold on this sector of space weakening by the day. They were systematically purged from the Coreward mouth of the Ison Trade Corridor and were forced to flee deeper into the ancillary hyperlane in order to survive the Sun Guard’s onslaught.

Weak.

They were weak.

Weakness was the gravest sin under the judging eyes of the Sun. They’d be mercilessly wiped from the stars, and the Golden Company would take what was owed from the First-Imperial survivors - by force if required. In the end? It was nothing more than a win-win scenario for the gilded warriors of the Sun Guard, as they’d be leaving the sector all the wealthier regardless of the outcome.

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VARONAT // OUTER SYSTEM EDGES.
OPERATION COMMENCEMENT.
COMMAND DECK // ABOARD GCV "CASTIGATOR."

From the depths of the swirling azure dimension of hyperspace, Taskforce Myrmidon erupted back onto the planes of real space with a flicker of pseudo-motion. Nearly fifty warships of varying designs, each bearing the twinned mark of Thyrsus’ binary stars, began maneuvering into a staggered formation as they approached the distant world of Varonat. Their collective prize(s) were anchored in high orbit and doubtlessly clutched at the First-Imperial naval base below. However, it seemed they were still operated by the stranded authoritarian regime and assailed by the remnants of the Ssi-Ruuvi vanguard that fled from Indellian.

Their weakness would be expunged by the personified fury of the Sun, and whatever remained among the stars was free for the Sun Guard’s to claim.

Their weapons and shields were fully charged, as they sailed across the bespeckled canvas of infinite night. It wouldn’t be long now until both flotillas came within maximum effective weapon’s range. When that prophesied moment arrived, the skies above that ruined system would ignite with hundreds of ochre lances of solarized plasma; tearing through projected barriers and armour alike. In addition, dozens - if not hundreds - of magnetically accelerated projectiles and disgorged warheads would soon follow after.

While this would normally be a consideration in conventional void-warfare, the Golden Company didn’t care if their shots missed. The planet below was in danger either way and was already burning in some fashion or another. There would be many that would scream for justice, and for the Sun Guard themselves to stand trial for their crimes. But, the truth of the matter was, there was no singular governing body to enforce their laws upon those that populated the galaxy. The accusations of war crimes were nothing more than wasted breath.

Let those who caught themselves out in the open perish beneath the coming maelstrom.

Khonsu’s dark eyes narrowed behind the false-firelight of his visor, as he watched the opening salvos were unleashed. It wouldn’t be long now, the man mused. The Thyrsians would slaughter all that stood afore them in the heavens above Varonat and leave nothing but ashes in their wake. This would be a message, to both the Ssi-Ruuvi Imperium and their victims - the First Order - that the Sun Guard were not to be trifled with. As well, this would serve as undeniable proof to the stellar nations that populated the stars…

Always pay your Mercenaries.
 
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VARONAT // OUTER SYSTEM EDGES.

HALLWAY // ABOARD GCV "CASTIGATOR."


Status - Feigned Confidence | Curious
Interacting With - ???
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"I'm nobody anymore. The Mandalorians took that from me, my identity, my belonging. I need to find my place, a new place to call home. Among all...all of this karking crap. Then, at least...I will know if I deserved to live."
Illyria Syresh
There hadn't been much of a briefing, or, at least, there hadn't been much of a briefing by the time Illyria had finally made her way to it. All she knew was that the Golden Company was going to go up against carnivorous lizards of some sort that wouldn't hesitate to kill and devour them without warning or chance in retaliation. The thought of being eaten alive by an animal made the young woman shudder whenever she thought about such things, the notion of such a thing happening to anyone was revolting and absolutely horrendous. Though truth be told, Illyria found most violence repulsive. Not because she was a pacifist per se, but because she had just recently been introduced to the barbarity and savagery of violence within the last few weeks. Being such a newcomer to violence and violent acts and fighting made the woman squeamish around everything. Her apprehension become lessened after she had gone on a mission with Vatari Syndal, though the thought's still lingered.

At least they are not people, they're just animals. I don't think I could live with the guilt of killing somebody. I don't think I could ever bring myself to kill anyone, I know papa...wherever it is that he is...would be disappointed and angry at me for doing such a thing. I don't want to disappoint him -- even, even if he isn't here...

Always protect yourself, Illy. But never hurt anybody badly. I don't want you to, you don't need to do that. Ok?

The thought of her father still made tears well up at the edges of her golden eyes. It had only been a few weeks since it happened, since...Illyria assumed they had been killed. Even with time given to recover from such an event, the blue Zabrak couldn't bring herself to think about it, to acknowledge it. She believed they were alive out there, somewhere, in the clutches of, of Mandalorians. Every time she thought of them she just wanted to sit down and cry...though she knew better now with the advice Vatari gave to her.

Illyria made her way down a smooth metal corridor, men and women of all species who were clad in gold ran up and down the hallway, making there way to battle stations to prepare for...something. The woman's soft golden eyes glanced around her environment, trying to find something to distract herself from thoughts of loneliness and fear of what was to come. Warm pupils brushed across an open expanse of glasteel, looking out through it into the great black expanse beyond. Illyria's eyebrows knitted together and her lips quipped to the right, a curiosity taking over her mind temporarily to distract herself and to appease her own naivety about everything. She shifted her body to her right, her palms reached outwards tentatively, pressing against the cool glasteel viewport, her golden eyes looking outwards. She saw a chaotic scene of turbolaser fire going across and large ships going down, though...Illyria didn't see it as such. What she saw amazed her. The laser fire seemed to dance across the blank expanse of space in an eternal battle almost like brush strokes to a painting...
 

Surya Almasi

Guest
S
Surya Almasi, Flamedancer
Equipment: Hoplon Combat Powersuit, Xiphos Vibrosword, Aspis Combat Shield, Apollo Solar Ionization Pistol, Scramble Key, Data Breaker

Location: Hangar Bay, GCV Castigator, Edge of Varonat Space
Interacting: [member="Arash Garshasp"] & others in the same area

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When it came down to it, life was simple.

Gold or Blood.

If you were poor, you were prey to the rich and influential. With their credits and silvered words, many of them danced between the lines of justice and corruption, and made what was once illicit into something that was quietly accepted behind closed doors.

If you were weak, you were prey to the strong. They would seek to oppress you, bind you in chains and fetters, keep you desperate and take away all hope so that you remained a willing captive. And it was only when you slowly remember, and painstakingly claw and fight for every little shreds of dignity you have left that you may catch a glimpse the light at the horizon.

It was harsh. But it was also a reality she had lived in.

Never again.

The ebb and flow of anticipation and bloodlust was writ in the air.

Surya was calm, her heartbeat steady as she stood by her sibling’s side. Clad in a combat powersuit and carrying weaponry of various makes, she felt invincible. While this may not be her first operation by any means, it was of a scale that was rarely seen. Her battle brothers and sisters wandered about the vast area, their muted words soothing as they prepared themselves for the slaughter to come.

There was a faint shudder that hummed throughout the hull as the armada of the Golden Company began its assault. Soon, the young flamedancer thought, her eyes gazing out of the hangar bay and into the darkness of space.

The insult towards her brethren would be paid in both Blood and Gold.
 
Arash Garshasp, Stellar Legionnaire
Location: Hangar Bay, GCV Castigator, Edge of Varonat Space



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Arash disliked silence, it was always silent whenever he had to finally head back to his room and whenever he was sent on missions assigned to only himself. Even among others here within the hanger, moments before their battle, the silence flustered him and fostered anxiety that he had long since thought far removed since Surya had returned them on that day.

He turned his head to look over at his sister, her calm demeanor and resolute stance stilled his hands as he clutched the hilt of his sword. Arash breathed in slowly, his mind cleared as he reassured himself that all would be accomplished and Arash would find himself with a grin from ear to ear once this was all over.

Sun Guard auxiliary, legionaries and the rest of their brethren all gathered and readied for their assault upon the collapsing First Order. The name meant little to the young Thyrsian, he had never spent much time learning galactic politics or significant governments outside what was deemed necessary. As for this battle that would soon come to them, all Arash needed to know were who to point his lance towards and which enemy he needed to dispatch first.

"Surya," Arash spoke, his shoulders relaxed as he found his voice, "-Ready to dance?" He asked, beneath his helmet his smile grew and whatever remained of his anxiety vanished from his mind. They were going to fight alongside one another against true enemies, not hunts or simulations, but against enemies who would dare to stand up to them. I guess my question should be asking our soon to be targets, are they ready to dance?

[member="Surya Almasi"]
 
En Route to Varonat




HCV Cassandra Sunrise
Forward Bridge - Deck 2

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"Ladies and gentlemen of the this fine vessel, this is your host. Enforcer Sweets at your service, I hope you've enjoyed our charter flight to Varonat. We'll soon be landing at our destination, please be advised of the conflagoration that will soon consume the planet. Be sure to take anything that isn't nailed down, and hack to your hearts content. Current temperatures on Varonat are about two degrees past getting karked. Thank you so much for flying Hutt Cartel Starlines, please book with us again!" Umedara set the radio down and looked over at the Nitko. "What?"

She dusted off her arms and then tugged down on her jacket. Hair flipped out over the collar, "Gatonk c'mon." She tapped the Cyborg's shoulder and then walked toward the Devaronian and slid her hands down either side of Tixi's shoulders. "Tixi, Tixi baby time to wake up." The two had fallen asleep near the last leg of their journey as the Cassandra Sunrise followed behind the mercenary group with their own hodge podge group of ships. While the Golden Company burned through the Ison Corridor, the Hutt Cartel was here to salvage and steal what they could. Sotta was looking to increase his influence here and that meant the take over of Bavva a planet along the aforementioned Corridor.

"Leddan, relay the following coordinates to our folks. Every one meets up at Bavva, we'll divy out the goods to Sotta and payout the others." Members of the Cartel working for Sotta would be able to take a few things from the raid. The rest? Went to Sotta, and the Cartel members would be paid out handsomely. At this point they just needed to hit the ground and then make their way to the databanks before it all went belly up.
 
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Varonat burned. While the naval forces of the First Order fought a desperate battle against the encroaching armada of the Ssi-Ruuvi Imperium, they couldn’t halt those reptoids from reaching the planet.

Several smaller craft breached the First-Imperial’s defensive blockade and rushed towards the surface, eager to consecrate this world in the name of their nascent empire. They would purge all that stood before them and turn those that survived into sources of power for their ever-hungry Warmachine. It was a grim fate, and more often than not, the survivors sought to fight and die; rather than forcibly succumb to the alternative. However, there was little resistance they could offer when those light starships targeted the various military facilities within the heart of the populated sectors. The citizen militia was denied their cache of arms and armour, forcing them to fight with whatever they could get their hands on. It was admirable, in the grand scheme of things, but it was far from enough to turn the tides. They would die, as their celestial kingdom crumbled around them; to be mocked by the ashes of history forevermore.

The Ssi-Ruuk were ruthlessly efficient as they carved their way across the planet’s surface; ensuring that the civilian populace went unharmed as they began preparing the world for a righteous harvest. Any soul that survived the coming fire would be shackled in irons and paraded about as nothing more than a slave. Those who were unfit to break themselves as manual labourers would be turned into sources of energy; mysteriously drained of their life and made into batteries -- of a sort. They would serve the Empire in a different manner; rather than as indentured servants. Their very essence would act as the power source for their technology and inevitably fuel the relentless war machine. Many would consider this horrifying science to be unnatural but to the Ssi-Ruuk? It was simply their way.

They evolved with the belief that they were superior to all sentient life, and that they were the true masters of the galaxy. Through this fanatical ideology, they sought to spread themselves across the stars -- choosing to lay waste the First Order; simply because they were the closest to their distant borders. It was no calculated act or luck of the draw. The reasons were simple. Those that ascribed to the will of the Supreme Leader were simply in the way of the Ssi-Ruuvi, and their manifesting aspirations of destiny. Thus, everything that transpired led to this moment; this religious cleansing and an ailing dream of Imperialism raging against the dying of their indoctrinated light.

Mirroring the events on the surface of Varonat, the orbital theatre was rife with chaos. Warships, bearing the sigils of the Crimson Maw and the Ssi-Ruuk duelled with a volley, after volley of energetic cannonade. Bolts of coruscating emerald and sapphire lightning danced alongside discharged salvos of torpedoes; bringing the impossibility of sound to the void which every blossoming detonation. With every migraine-inducing flare that spilled across the canvas of infinite night, hundreds - if not thousands of lives were snuffed out in an instant. It was a beautiful sight to bear witness too, in a morbid sense. Had that transpired on a surface-bound battlefield, where so many souls were turned to ash in a blink of an eye, it would’ve been heart-wrenching. To see such devastation… it’d either savagely delight or horrify even the strongest of wills.

Yet, in space? Such things were met with impassive glances at terminals, and mechanical approximations of cheer; given voice by senseless metal and electronics. There was a lack of intimacy in how such a harvest of lives was put to the sword. One could say that the task was almost joyless. However, there were some that garnered some measure of satisfaction from the deed. In fact, as the Thyrsian Warships broke into the system and began cycling through active targets, there was a sense of unfettered excitement that rippled throughout the entire Golden Armada. Varonat was to be a target-rich environment, where there wouldn’t be any reservations about collateral damage. All that didn’t bear the sigil of the twinned crimson suns was an enemy and were to be righteously slain.

Those gilded vessels, with weapons charged and shields raised, soared through the bespeckled darkness with predatory ease. Their aureate raptorian forms took a staggered formation as they approached the planet, acting out of a twinned desire to keep their warships protected from the inevitable incoming munitions, as well as providing ample space in which to maneuver through the void. As firing solutions were generated and double-checked for authenticity, the Golden Armada began purging the skies above Varonat of the swarming hostiles; adding their solarized lancets and discharged torpedoes into the chaotic kaleidoscope of migraine-inducing hues and fiery detonations. While the torpedoes took their sweet time soaring across the intergalactic gulf, their solarized lances flashed through the darkness and gutted several starships in the blink of an eye. Though their shields should’ve flared with activation, which what would’ve happened if assailed by conventional weapons, but remained unphased.

It was the arcane workings and enigmatic engineering that went into the weaponry; making it far stronger and more powerful than conventional solar ionization weapons. The solarized plasma batteries operated on another level, as it was a hybridization of two utterly differing technologies that came harmoniously came together with the mutual desire of destruction. Those brilliant ochre beams tore through First-Imperial and Ssi-Ruuk warships alike, rendering their metallic plating and the personnel stationed on those afflicted decks into dissolving mist. Whatever remained spilled out towards the shield and impacted that projected barrier, causing it to spark with particulate activation. When the torpedoes arrived, they found themselves welcomed with open arms. Point defence weapons chattered in the attempt to deny several warheads of their prize, but dozens swept in unopposed; as one side or the other neglected to save their prey’s metallic hide from the coming and inevitable doom.

In the heavens above Varonat; death reigned. When the warships of the Golden Company sailed into the planet’s orbital circuit, their mass-driven weaponry chattered into the darkness; despoiling the surface with every shot that went wide, or tearing holes in metallic flesh. It wouldn’t be long now until both sides were devastated by the arrival of a third - rife with advanced, esoteric technologies. This world would fall beneath the Golden Company’s boot, or should the impossible happen? They’d take out their anger out on the Ssi-Ruuk and ensure that none remained standing, as they stamped out the remnants of the First Order across the entirety of the Ison Corridor.

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VARONAT // HIGH ORBIT
ORBITAL CONTROL ESTABLISHED
COMMAND DECK // ABOARD GCV "CASTIGATOR."


Khonsu felt a measure of amusement as his eyes bore witness to Varonat filling the forward display screen; followed soon after by the broken husks of First-Imperial and Ssi-Ruuk warships peppering the despoiled atmosphere. The orbital battle was mercifully swift once their starships came within effective weapons range, as the power of their solarized lances made quick work of what remained. Seared flakes of armour plating soared about in the bespeckled darkness, adding a grim ambiance to the shimmering hologram. A weaker man, who didn’t spend his entire life on the battlefield, would’ve felt a glimmer of remorse flutter through their system at the sight of so much destruction. Yet, the Thyrsian was far from weak. Instead, the man drank in the transmitted details with a smirk.

While it was a shame that the Golden Company hadn’t been capable of acting sooner, there was a sense of satisfaction in slaughtering those First-Imperial’s abandoned behind splintering lines. They were tied up with countless contracts on the other side of the galaxy, as the rot slowly began to eat away at the fringes of the First Order. But, that didn’t matter now. The Thyrsians were here now, making a terrible mess of things with every passing moment as their gilded warships took anchor far above the planet’s surface. With the silent orders given to arrest their momentum, and let the lingering tendrils of gravity take hold, the Thychani Commander turned away from the viewscreen; no longer interested in the tedium of mopping up what remained in orbit.

As the Thyrsian moved across the command deck, his attention was drawn towards the silver-haired woman who was ensconced within the bounds of an ornate throne; almost monolithic in design. Astarii Saren sat with one leg draped over another and held a steaming demitasse filled with freshly brewed recaf clutched between her gloved fingers. Her usually impassive expression was soured by disappointment; most likely because of the will to fight amongst her gathered opposition seemingly vanished. Those that weren’t destroyed, but were still in serviceable condition, broke ranks and fled - venturing deeper into the nebula, away from their newfound assailants. She was denied an absolute victory, and it visibly irked her.

“Shipmistress,” Khonsu called out to her, draw her soured gaze towards his armoured visage. “Let them run to whatever safe harbour they believe to have. We shall hunt down the survivors after we put this world to the sword.” His words did little to enhance her mood, and in response, the Hapan woman audibly clicked her tongue. “They will scatter to the solar winds, leaving me with my vengeance denied and nothing more than a sundered world to show for it.”

“The Ssi-Ruuk have broken the First Order. It’s doubtful we’ll run into an organized defence as we scour this sector. They’ve either banded together was Warlords; fighting for whatever scraps of their fledgling empire remain, or, they are fighting to break through the massive armada and escape to friendly ports.” Khonsu paused, looking once more towards the holographic viewscreen. “Our vengeance has been stolen from us. We will be forced to subside on whatever meagre scraps we can tear away from the Ssi-Ruuvi, and those First-Imperials that remained behind.”

With a heavy sigh, more of a disappointment than frustration, the Thychani Commander’s visor craned towards the raised dais, and the command throne thereafter. Although rendered mechanical by the vocabulator integrated into his helmet, the Thyrsian’s words were almost predatory as they passed through the armoured grille; it was if he growled the coming declaration.

“Let our retribution be swift, and let Varonat burn beneath the dragon’s breath.”
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[SIZE=11pt]TROPIS-ON-VARONAT // VARONAT SURFACE[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]SEVERAL HOURS AFTER OPERATION COMMENCEMENT[/SIZE]

Of all the days that preceded the present, this system’s Harvest had been bountiful. When this jungle world was consecrated in the blood of a fallen priest, the hordes of crimson-scaled warriors sallied forth from their transports and spilled out onto the streets below. His kindred wouldn’t avenge the slain, golden-clad saurian, as it wasn’t their way. Instead, they would lay waste to and butcher these false-inheritors, cleansing the stars of their failures; who were unable to manifest their true destiny. Those that survived this culling of sorts, would be enslaved and put to work despoiling the homes they once loved. Those that were taken, but broke under lengthy duress, would find themselves subjected to eternal torment as nothing more than a power source; feeding energy into the Ssi-ruu weapons and technology.

While there were advances in easing the pain of those who had their life essences stolen from their organic shells, the leadership caste deemed them unnecessary when dealing with these First-Imperials. They deserved the agony, it was said. The crimson-scaled warrior couldn't agree more. Not because he was bred for warfare, and everything that accompanied it, but because he believed. He believed that these humans outstretched their mandate and pushed too far into ancient Ssi-ruu worlds. Those systems were not theirs and thus had no claim to hold dominion over them. Thus, if they endured an eternity of suffering? It would be too benevolent a price.

So, the nameless creature adorned in carnelian flesh relished the slaughter; taking distinct pleasure in every kill made. However, that ended when the gilded warships took anchor in the heavens above; replacing the duelling fleets of Ssi-ruuvi and First-Imperial Warships. His snout and the tendrils that slithered from them turned towards his kindred. He sensed danger. Those ships weren’t friendly and their anchorage points placed them far above the city, along several prime bombardment vectors. Their lives were measured in mere moments if they didn’t reach the safety of cover, but with their surroundings partially ruined? It seemed their end would be inevitable.

But, as that realization and attempt to defy their fate was made, it was seemingly too late for anything to be done. The twinkling lights that suddenly appeared over the Capital City were the newfound heralds of impending doom, as missiles - bearing a deadly payload - speared towards the surface. Their dull and lifeless external plating was soon embraced by the licking flames of atmospheric re-entry; becoming incandescent in their rapid descent towards the surface. The path they were set upon was allegedly designed to inflict mass casualties in a saturation bombing; killing both Ssi-Ruu and First-Imperial alike. However, when the discharged munitions impacted the surface, they didn’t detonate in an ever-expanding field of nuclear fire. Instead, as the impact charge detonated within the missiles, the crystalline vials of modified trihexalon gas shattered.

The subsequent explosions of virulent light, transpiring at key points throughout Tropis-On-Varonat, instantaneously spread across the ruined streets in a coruscating emerald bubble. Hundreds of Ssi-Ruuk soldiers, adorned in their crimson panoply of battle, watched in abject horror as their kindred’s scales began sloughing off -- as if they were snakes shedding their skin. While the reptilian similarities were present, it was far from the time most adult Ssi-Ruu began moulting. So, with that momentary realization lancing their minds, they fought against the cruel hand that fate seemingly dealt them. They sprayed themselves with medical salves and sought to stem the relentless tide of infection eating away at their rotten core.

No matter what they tried, it wasn’t fast enough to counter the effects of the virus or did it soothe their pain. The Ssi-Ruu Vanguard, at least their forces within the Tropis, had the entirety of their biomass converted into a biochemical sludge; leaving the beleaguered First-Imperial defenders, as well as their charges bewildered and unaffected. They believed that reinforcements arrived. That the violent blockade around their world was finally broken. That they were free from the chaos and could spend the rest of their lives rebuilding what was lost. What they believed, was proven to be a lie as the first Thyrsian starship punched through the atmosphere and took a position directly overhead.

Their cries of joy, soon turned into wailing shrieks of despair, as the warship turned its cannons on the newly revealed populace below.

As the ashes, or what remained of the city began to crumble, the gilded dropships of the Golden Company swept into the decimated sectors; disgorging troops from their deployment decks as soon as they touched down. Aurate warforms, both mechanical and organically mechanized, jumped from the once shrouded compartments and began scouring what remained, for opponents and trinkets of worth. Khonsu Amon was amongst the first that made planetfall. With his spear and shield in hand, the Mercenary Lord strode out onto the battlefield and revelled in the destruction the Sun Guard caused with an insidious smile.

With both gilded feet striding across the biomass sludge, the Thychani Commander swept his bladed pike across the horizon and swore to the distant Sun that Varonat’s spoils would be theirs.

“Take everything of worth, leave nothing behind!”
| [member="Illyria Syresh"] | [member="Surya Almasi"] | [member="Arash Garshasp"] |​
 

Surya Almasi

Guest
S
Surya Almasi, Flamedancer
Equipment: Hoplon Combat Powersuit, Xiphos Vibrosword, Aspis Combat Shield, Apollo Solar Ionization Pistol, Scramble Key, Data Breaker

Location: Edge of the city, Tropis-On-Varonat, Varonat Surface
Interacting with: [member="Arash Garshasp"] | [member="Khonsu Amon"] | [member="Illyria Syresh"]

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Perhaps she had become selfish in her captivity, but Surya did not feel much of anything when spears of goldenrod began to pierce through the cold darkness of space. Her senses were alight with the mélange of fearconfusionfurypain as swathes after swathes of tiny flames were diminished with each beam that lit up the expanse with their brilliance. While a part of her knew that hundreds and upon thousands of lives were razed beneath the solar fury of the Golden Armada, the same part of her revelled and embraced the wicked pleasure that it wrought.

It was with a grin of predatory anticipation that the flamedancer turned to regard her brother, the glow and fade each burst of fire lighting up the gilded armour she was encased in. “My dearest little brother, I’m always ready.” The young woman leaned in, inclining her head so that their helmeted foreheads met in an affectionate gesture. Around them, their battle brothers and sisters were beginning to board the dropships that will take them down to the devastated surface of Varonat. “And as are you, from how your aura is bubbling over with elation,” she teased, her gauntleted hand closing around his wrist, tugging him gently along with her.

Come now, and let us have fun~

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She hummed a jaunty little tune as she stepped out of the gilded vessel and on to the liquified remains that covered the ground. Wrinkling her nose within the anonymity of her helmet, Surya endeavoured to ignore the mess beneath her feet and instead turned her focus to take in the sight of the skyline of Tropis-On-Varonat. What was once a vaunted city of cutting edge technology and urban marvel was reduced to crumbling ruins. Prominent skyscrapers were reduced to mere shadows of itself, mere stubs of grey and steel skeletons that overlooked the desolate landscape.

Though they hardly needed any further encouragement between the muted zeal and barely contained bloodlust, the Thychani Commander’s soaring words were the impetus that unleashed their avarice, be it for spoils or a dance. “You heard the Commander~” Surya pivoted on her heels to grace her brother with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Shall we? I think we could both do with some new trinkets.” With her piece said, the young Thrysian reached out and poked Arash’s forehead with a finger, before skipping out and away from his reach, her laugh joyous as she loped off in the direction of the east end.
 

Eyros

The Clanless
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[SIZE=11pt]TROPIS-ON-VARONAT // VARONAT SURFACE[/SIZE]​
[SIZE=11pt]T[/SIZE]he Golden Company was as it’s whole a mercenary company, a group of well-drilled sell-swords that hired themselves out as individuals as much as an army for the highest bidder. The lure of riches offered to those who fought hard and well had brought a plethora of mixed types to the banner of the golden sun, from core-born humans searching for a quick rich fix, to far-flung aliens from distant ever more alien worlds exploring the galaxy at the end of a blaster. Each brought their own thing to the Golden Company and it’s marketable image.
[SIZE=11pt]It was when you looked deeper that it became much more than a business of credits. At it’s core, it’s very central belief the Golden Company were a tradition over a band of mercenary warriors. They bathed deep in Thyrsian mythos and culture, the inner-circles of their ranks all hailed the burning sun and steeped their traditions upon the everyday company in ways both discrete and plain. Ritual and honour were based high on a list of exampleries that were expected from those who wore the sun, belief in the ideology would get you higher in the grade then those non-believers here for the credit, even if it was never truly marketed as such. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]The ideals of the Thyrsian were what had made the Golden Company transfer their ships out of the warzone’s of the paying clients and towards the Ison Corridor. News of the invasion of the First Order had travelled fast through the dedicated channels and it had stirred quite a rousing thirst among those longer serving within the Company. It was of course questioned, querries of why the mercenaries were being drafted into a war that neither side was willing to pay them for their services. All had been given the same response, [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]“For this debt only blood will do.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Eyros hadn’t thought much on the situation during his descent into the madness below, he’d been told already what to expect and that was all there was to it. The Thyrsian’s knew of his worth, hence why he tended to pull in more coin for his efforts then some of the other’s within the company and especially when it came to operations such as this one. Yet there was a fleeting moment of desire towards the past as he felt the landing craft pierce the cloud layer thump into the reality of war-torn airspace. He had heard of the First Order’s early support of the Golden Company, of their employment terms and hefty promises. He had also heard of their betrayal and refusal of payment agreements, which had all in all brought them here to the now. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]He nearly scoffed under his helmet. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]They were dying and the Company was not. They had a debt to pay for services delivered and with no means to pay it left the Company with little options but to take it from the flesh of those who deemed themselves above such terms. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Today he would bathe the coffers of the Golden Company in the blood of the betrayers, he would bring the light of the sun into their hearts and burn the unworthy, and what of the worthy? Well then they would die a trueful death, embraced in the heat of the magnificence that the Thyrsian Warmachine had began to bring down upon them all. [/SIZE]
 
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VARONAT // OUTER SYSTEM EDGES.

HALLWAY // ABOARD GCV "CASTIGATOR."


Armor - Auxila Combat Suit
Weapons - Helius BR | Xiphos Vibroblade
Status - Feigned Confidence | Curious
Interacting With - [member="Arash Garshasp"] | [member="Khonsu Amon"] | [member="Surya Almasi"] | [member="Eyros"]
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"I'm nobody anymore. The Mandalorians took that from me, my identity, my belonging. I need to find my place, a new place to call home. Among all...all of this karking crap. Then, at least...I will know if I deserved to live."
Illyria Syresh

Yellow and blue beams of solarized energy shot out across the expanse of voidless black which made up the battlefield, connecting with large triangular vessels of metal and oddly shaped vessels of metal, making both ignite in a soundless explosion of metal and condensed energy cells in a spherical blue haze which stretched outwards. She had never seen space like this before, it looked so beautiful and peaceful. Illyria wasn't a sadistic, far from it, she tried her best to not kill anyone and to escape violence. However, standing here now, witnessing the battle before her--it allowed the blue-skinned woman to appreciate the beauty of the galaxy despite it's chaotic nature. The lights of turbolaser fire and solarized beams reflected in the clear golden globes of Syresh's eyes, imprinting them into her mind, the beauty of it all. She could sit here for hours and watch all of it.

It was as one of those vibrant opera shows that her papa had taken her to see when she was longer, he was always a fan of the opera and wanted her to feel the same way. She had always found it boring, but what always had stuck with her were the lights, the reds, the greens, the purples, the blues. Standing here now, her mouth agape in stunned amazement and her soft, young eyes open in amazement...the sounds of the opera came to her mind. It was faint, reaching at the edges of her mind and clinging there as a fond yet nigh invisible memory which was hard to grasp onto and keep in one's grip. Despite such things, the soft hum of the instruments of the opera brought comfort to the Scion of house Syresh.

Illyria was naive of most things, and thus was amazed by all things no matter how insignificant and little others viewed such things and thought of such things. Or how strangely others viewed such things.

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TROPIS-ON-VARONAT // VARONAT SURFACE

Golden boots stepped among organic slush, the strange mixture of bone, blood, flesh, and scales sticking to the soles of the golden vessels which encased Illyria's feet. She kept her gaze above the masses of the organic mix which lined all over the ground of bones. The smell alone of the remains of these lizards was noxious enough, and the woman didn't seek to know what such a revolting smell came from in appearance. The blue skinned woman assumed that they would be fighting these lizards, but instead she was stepping through whatever happened to him.

Within the woman's gloved hands was a rifle, a weapon bestowed upon her by the Golden Company. Her right hand was clasped around the back of the rifle, fingers idly playing with the trigger while it's safety was on, her left hand clasped lower on the rifle closer to the barrel. To hold such a weapon felt unnatural to Illyria, it felt wrong. She wasn't a fighter, she wasn't a killer. She was nobody, without her family and her heritage she was nobody but a piece of eye-candy at least that was what she had heard from a few outside of the Golden Company. She had only handled a rifle few times beforehand, once alongside Khonsu Amon and another alongside Vatari, both of whom had helped the blue-skinned zabrak to feel better about her situation.

Though even now, to hold such a weapon felt unnatural and strange. It didn't feel right. However, this was her life now, and she needed to stay with it and go onwards as Khonsu had alluded to.
 
Arash Garshasp, Stellar Legionnaire
Location: Edge of the city, Tropis-On-Varonat, Varonat Surface





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Armored and all, but yet 'little' was the word used to describe him. Arash rolled his eyes, while he was a modicum smaller when compared to the other young men of his age, it wasn't by much in his head. And if such statements were uttered from anyone else not named Surya or his parents, well he challenged many to a duel for far less. With boasting a near flawless track record of duels aside, Arash kept a bemused expression and with a lopsided grin he gave in to his sister's tug on his arm to follow.

"Let's have fun and teach them to dance." Arash agreed, his mind racing through the multiple battle lessons and practiced motions with his weapons. Instincts trained and forged over years of practice and sparring, now the opportunity presented itself to test his learned abilities.

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Arash stood readily, the transport ship buckled and shuddered through the atmosphere before finally landing and when the ramparts lowered he realized the melody hummed. Eyes narrowed at his sister Surya, but behind his helmet it masked his annoyance too well so he felt confident that his true feeling of Surya's song could be felt through the Force.

The ground around them, though Arash was not accustomed to such nauseating sight of what he could only describe as 'lizard goop'. Even then such childish label couldn't soften the appearance of such landscape of more of this 'lizard goop'. Small solace was that his helmet allowed him to not breathe in the stench, or what he assumed would be a stench, Arash was not keen on removing his helmet to discover and make reality of his worry.

"I've gotten a new chest for more trinkets, a gift from my brother, but I'd prefer anything not found on the ground." Arash responded, his eyes slowly tearing away from another 'lizard goop' pile.

Arash turned to pay attention to Surya before slightly taken aback with a step back when she poked his head with a finger. Before he even lash his hand out to catch the offending finger, Surya already pranced away and headed off east to find her enemy and set the said enemy ablaze.

With focus returning, the young and only slightly diminutive Thrysian hefted his force pike and his 'Aspis' shield to bare against any potential attacks. Quick on his feet, he went to chase down his free spirited sister before she could claim a mark before he, or worse before he could even spot a mark to kill.

Arash followed, light and graceful footwork to assure he wouldn't step on any of the biomass goo left behind, unless he were to slip on such mess. A very undignified act for such person as Arash Garshasp and no doubt endless jabs from both Surya and his siblings for years on end.

[member="Khonsu Amon"] | [member="Surya Almasi"] | @Eyros | [member="Illyria Syresh"]
 
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TROPIS-ON-VARONAT // VARONAT SURFACE


Armor: - Auxila Combat Suit
Weapons: - Helius BR | Xiphos Vibroblade
Status: - Feigned Confidence | Scared
Interacting With: [member="Arash Garshasp"] | [member="Eyros"] | [member="Surya Almasi"] | [member="Khonsu Amon"] |[member="Ria Misrani"]
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"I'm nobody anymore. The Mandalorians took that from me, my identity, my belonging. I need to find my place, a new place to call home. Among all...all of this karking crap. Then, at least...I will know if I deserved to live."
- Illyria Syresh

Illyria walked among the organic slush that lined the ground, masses of flesh which had at one point been part of something living and breathing...now all that was once living was nothing but a gross combination of dripping bloody masses and green masses of scales. She found such a scene disgusting, to her it was as a genocide against a species which could not adequately defend itself. She hated the site, keeping her helmeted head down towards the ground, trying to avert her eyes from as many organic piles of organic mass as possible. The blue skinned woman didn't understand such cruelty, all she saw it as was an unjustifiable act of broken morality and an act of untold death and destruction. Despite such feelings, the zabrak knew that they had been attacked first and that the Golden Company was merely defending itself...at least that was the narrative that the young and innocent woman told herself to make herself feel better about the situation and what had happened to everything living down here within the ruined city.

The Scion of house Syresh made her way down an abandoned street, all that stood in her way were the organic piles of the remnants of lizards and burning fires from whatever weapon was launched at the city. She found the city to be daunting when it was like this, abandoned with not a single soul around...the stench of death heavy in the air. It was as of a sight from a scary holo-movie, something which the young woman had watched once within her life and something that she had no intention of watching once more. The silence of the city unnerved the blue-skinned zabrak, making her on edge and worried that something could happen at any moment. Each step she took was cautious and shaky, as if something would jump her and try to kill her any second. And yet, nothing became of her worry. Her golden eyes took in the desolate nature of the city through the blue light of her interior heads up display, trying to find something to do while she was here. She wasn't sure of the objective, though she believed it was something along the lines of kill any stormtroopers and take anything that you can.

She knew that she wouldn't kill any stormtroopers, she couldn't. She wouldn't.

As her eyes took in the environment around her, her gaze fell on the site of something on the ground near an alleyway. Curiously, Illyria walked over to the object, kneeling down and trading off her rifle within the grip of her left hand. Her right hand reached down and took the unknown object within the waxy, gloved grip of her hand. Bringing it up to her face, the young woman found that it was a child's toy of some sort. It was a small doll of a stormtrooper and looked to be unharmed despite all that had happened around it. Illy smiled under her helmet at the site of such a thing, wondering where the child went that had this thing with them. She wanted to bring it back to the child who it belonged to and give it back to them, she had no need for the toy...though she believed that whoever this young child was, he or she needed the toy for comfort.

Just as the blue-skinned zabrak was standing up, something hard and metallic looped around her neck and pulled her backwards away from the sight of the street. Illyria's golden eyes looked around frantically, trying to see and find the source of whatever was pulling her back. In doing so, she panicked and dropped the rifle and the toy. Whatever was happening, she knew that it was of no good. Both of her hands reached up the metallic wire stringed around the padded protection surrounding her neck, trying to wrest herself free. However, all the woman was met with with was being thrown down to the ground. It had left her nearly out of breath with her glazed over eyes looking up towards the darkness of the alleyway, obstructing the cloudy, grey sky overhead.

Then she was met with something hard connecting with her body...it was a rod of some sort. The object smashed against her torso, making the air leave her lungs in an instant from the shock of the attack. Despite the armor that she wore, she felt the hit of the weapon against her form. And then there was another hit by another crudely shaped tool, one with hooked barbs. And then there was another, made of some heavy metal. And then another, and then another...and then another...
 

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