First Reply No Honour Among Thieves

[Zelannia Arcrin]

[Source]​

Pirate Outpost, Unimportant Junk World
Western Reaches, OPA Space

How long had it been? Longer than he had hoped, certainly, but he was almost ready to get off this Bogan-cursed rock. His newest creation was spaceworthy (probably) and fast enough to evade the pirates that plagued the region if they decided to use him as target practice.

All he needed was a hyperdrive motivator - a good one, too, didn't want that part blowing out in deep space.

With time, he could probably jury-rig a suitable alternative, but he was done with this chithole.

Frowning up at the gaudy sign (it felt gaudy, though he obviously couldn't see the colours), the Miraluka steeled his nerves. Was he really about to attempt to rob a fence working for the largest pirate outfit on the planet? Yes, yes he fething was.

 

[Lord Commander Relian Dorn]

The plague of piracy shall no longer be forced upon the men and women of Cathay. Death to each pirate, each thief, and every single man, woman, and child that affiliates with them. They are the bringers of Chaos, bringers of Anarchy and the corrupted state of nature that has plagued the Galaxy ever since the end of the Final Order. To bring these barbarians to heel will not be an easy task. Your enemy is entrenched, and willing to defend his horrid life. Your Mission, purge the Fences in flame! And let the banner of Cathay fly triumph over Chaos again.

This was the creed that Dorn had been given. His mission, was to destroy every pirate and send their souls screaming to the force. Stage a rebellion on planet with the civilians against their oppressive overlords and claim dominion through the extension of the Bulwark against Chaos, and the creation of rule by a just government in-place of a tyrannical system such as this Junk Planet. His Mother had willed that this world will forever be changed. And Dorn shall follow.

A progenitor son of Xzaien, a superhuman of near ascendant abilities directly borne of the potent gene seed of Xzaien herself was placed at the head of this operation. Dorn, the Praetorian of Cathay, and the Defender of Liberty and Order. Was put in command of a single of Conventional Catharian Army Infantry (40 Soldiers). With their skill in weapons training, and Dorn's skill in purging the unclean. They would make for quite a deadly combination of forces. Dorn's Space Marines were left meanwhile on Thearterra to rebuild it after the latest Catharian Attack. Leaving Dorn only with these Army Troops to command. More than enough to incite a rebellion.

Above the clouds of the Junk World. A single Harrower Class Dreadnought, draped in the heraldry of the Sons of Xzeench Space Marine Legion exited hyper-space into low orbit into one of the lesser controlled corners of the OPA. Its gold trimmings, and black and red pain-job showed the craftsmanship of the Catharian Institute of the Sciences and Occult. A Sith design by nature, with two massive prongs and a huge hangar bay to swarm its enemies with fighters. Nevertheless, only Forty-one men would be disembarking. A single small drop-pod was shot from the belly of this ship. Before the ship-itself vanished back into hyperspace to avoid retaliation from over-eager Federal Forces.

In the sky, a single Red-and-Black Escape Pod looking device was seen hilting through the atmosphere at a speed, it could easily be mistaken as a meteorite. Seemingly, the drop point was quite a large opening in the main City's Plaza. A Ecumenopolis by design, marred by trash and crime. The drop-pod seemingly deployed a large parachute, before landing in the center of the Plaza. Cracking the ground, and knocking over benches. Perhaps a person or three. Meanwhile, the doors upon it swung open and a single well-dressed Officer looking individual stepped forth.

The man who stepped forth, wore conventional Army Fatigues seen everywhere throughout the Galaxy. It bore resemblance to older-forms of Uniform make judging by the Field-Gray coloration and Khaki two-tone design. On his head sat a Patrol Cap, with a Dragon Clutching a World with its wings spread. Over his body, he was adorned with Combat Armor of a unidentified Make. He looked quite old, and frail compared to soldiers seen elsewhere. Unfortunately, he attracted the attention of a few thugs looking to extort someone. Who promptly walked over, and demanded his money. Which only illicted a rather unphased smile from the Officer in Question. Almost in a moments notice, the Officer was picked up by his shirt Jacket and lifted into the air by the much larger Thug. Who demanded a bit more curtly this time. His money and clothes.

However, who stepped forth to support his Second. Was someone who had to crouch to get through the nine-foot-tall door to the Drop-pod. A twelve foot tall, monstrosity of a man with bleached white hair, and angular features stepped through in Black and Red Power-Armor, with a seemingly master-crafted gold etching and inlay. This monster of a man was twelve feet tall, and appeared to be able to crush even a battle-tank in his armor's grips. His helmet was off, and held tightly against his side, where its five foot tall crest of a dragon was seen. Where his other hand was used to clutch a massive pole-hammer about the same height as he was. The faces of the thugs quickly turned into one of major surprise, and then fear as he stepped forth. Echoing with authority and power. He was immedietly followed by at least thirteen lightly-armored army troopers who guarded his flanks as they looked to the night-club ahead. The base of operations for the largest fencing guild on-planet... Of course, Zelannia Arcrin could see this display. A suitable distraction judging by the size of the crew this giant man brought with him...​

 

[Zelannia Arcrin]

Just as the scavenger was about to enter the establishment, the horrid screeching of a violent atmospheric entry could be heard, then a mighty thud and the dull splat of Rodian merchant being crushed underneath a harsh-looking... drop pod? Who the fething feth?

Quickly scurrying behind a container, the Miralkua eyed the display - and the almost inhuman obliviousness of the local thugs. If he'd known they were this dumb, he'd robbed the place way back, but such was life... aaaactually.

Looking at the giant's helmet, he paused, then smiled softly under his helmet. "Crimson Dragons!"

Scurrying even further back, he watched the chaos unfold, looking for a good opportunity. There was no honour amongst thieves, and the Crimson Dragons - greatest rivals of the local crew - were a far bigger threat than overzealous Judges and the oh-so-distant Allied Fleet, most days.

The giant's adornments could not have been more convenient, though he still had no clue who the man actually was - definitely not a Sith-Imperial, that would have been precipitated by many more explosions if the stories were to be believed.

Lord Commander Relian Dorn​

 

[Lord Commander Relian Dorn]

The relative quiet was suddenly stopped by the roaring of Boltgun Fire. The Progenitor of Xzaien hefted a man sized pistol, and blew away entire limbs, arms, and torsos away with each shot. An entire firefight of Black and Red armored Soldiers, and the gilded Progenitor cleaved through their current enemy, as if they were butter. The gangbangers and thugs had little weapons to stop the flow of prepared and battle-hardened warriors of peace. The Progenitor moved blindingly fast, too fast for a creature of his size. He'd be hefting his Lightning Hammer, and bringing it down upon the heads of men half his size. Crushing their bodies with the sheer mass of weight being moved around. His Troopers filled the sky and area with beams of light and fire, as the sternums and heads of gangsters were burned through by seemingly solid beams of blaster fire.

A few of the Gangsters were horrible wounded. Missing arms from Bolt-Gun fire, and disfigurements in the face and bodies of those hit by laser and bolter fire. Horrible war injuries perpetrated on gangsters hoping to make a living by whoring and peddling drugs. Squads of Dorn's Troopers took up breaching position on the various doors of nearby of known Gang-Members. Breaching them, and filling whoever was inside with blaster bolts. Men, woman, children. It didn't matter. They were apart of the problem envisioned by the Autocrat of Cathay. A poor fate. The families of these Gang members were purged as calloused as possible. It was a depressing display of the brutality of the armies of Cathay...

Zelannia Arcrin

 

[Zelannia Arcrin]

He had expected a firefight, but he had not expected this - the short battle and worse yet the slaughter that followed chilled him to the bone. Due to his heritage, the Miraluka was gifted with the ability to perceive even through walls - but seeing these monsters butcher the innocent, the children, alongside the guilty was no gift.

Shuddering slightly as he felt their pain - he didn't normally feel the pain of others, what was... later - he pushed his way into the emporium, past cowering customers and people desperately looking for something - anything - by which to fight back.

No one cared about a little thief, anymore.

Finding the piece of technology he had come for, he quickly pocketed it... then, after a moment's hesitation, he grabbed a hefty-looking weapon from the shelves, hitting it in just the right place to get it working again.

As one of the butchers kicked down the door, he let loose a bolt of sticky fusion plasma - hells, if that didn't take him down... - then bolted towards the rear exit. Assuming there was a rear exit. Ashla, Bogan, Ashla, Bogan.

Lord Commander Relian Dorn​

 

[Zelannia Arcrin]

Crowe never saw if the plasma bolt hit, for he was far too busy running away - with what could only be described as slightly-above-average grace, he lunged through the rear window, feeling very grateful that he had worn a helmet and leather jacket as glass shards bounced off his lean form.

Landing in something that could, charitably, be described as a roll - but was closer to a stumble with extra steps - he dashed down a back street, still praying under his breath all the while. This wasn't... what was... chit, chit, chit, he needed to get out of here.

Get home. Stay away from the big streets. Get home. Shove the part in his XY-Wing. Get home. Get lost!

Lord Commander Relian Dorn​

 

[Lord Commander Relian Dorn]

It was as if a sudden rain of fire permeated the area as Dorn stepped ahead of his men. Cleaving through gangsters, and rending the very flesh from their bones. In his mind, Dorn no longer cared for the petty criminals around him. All he saw in his eyes, was the taint of evil. Only making itself more prevalent the longer he and his Marines purged. All around, the enhanced yells of both his Marines and Army Troopers sounded the air. They were fanatical in their loyalty to their Queen Mother, the Autocrat of Cathay.

Evens as the bodies piled around them, Hundreds dead maybe. Did Dorn finally recover slightly from his need to kill, his need to purge the enemies of Cathay. He had spotted Zelannia Arcrin blow away one of the less skilled Army Troopers with a Plasma Gun, that he had never seen before, and sought right to attempt to investigate this transgression. On IFF, this young man was not one of the targets the Hegemony has come here for. Unlike the others who weren't on the list, who cowered in their houses, and locked the doors. This one saw it right to take a weapon, and take up arms against a Soldier of the Hegemony. Killing him instantly. Dorn spotted him making a run for the landing platform.

Dorn sprinted after him. The thirteen foot tall super-human was shockingly fast, nothing that large should be able to move that quickly. Mere physics reasoned that as so. But yet, this super-human, this tower of a man made movement look easy compared to everything else. He caught up with this running kid, cutting him off from his escape by moving through an alley. Dorn's heels screeched as he suddenly stopped a few meters in-front of Crowe. If Crowe even bothered to look up, The man that looked down at him, read sympathy.

Dorn had always known of the casualties of war, what the cost was. He knew that kid's actions were driven by fear, by surprise, and likely again by instinct. And Dorn attempted to reason with him. Kneeling down, Dorn watched the weapon which was now pointed at his chest.

"I know why you killed him".​

In the rear, the sounds of battle only echoed as men and women were slaughtered in droves by the roving bands of Marines and Army Troopers. All of them were Criminals, irredeemable dregs of society whose only fate is to be skewered on a Army Trooper's bayonet. Now was the time to reason with this poor kid. To tell him why.

Zelannia Arcrin

 

[Zelannia Arcrin]

Crowe, of course, had no clue that there even was a "list" - for all he knew, the purge was entirely arbitrary, the doing of genocidal madmen picking targets at random from the numerous hives of scum and villainy that dotted the Outer Rim. Certainly, a few hundred criminals to or from would make no difference in the big picture - except perhaps in souring the locals' opinions of... whoever the attackers were.

The Mirialan scavenger was not exactly up to date as far galactic politics were concerned.

Dashing down the narrow alley, clutching his plasma rifle more out of instinct than any real plan to use it, he came to a very sudden stop when a giant of a man appeared before it - where in Bogan's cursed glare had he come from?

Staring at the man through his opaque helmet - a metal plate welded where the visor should be - he saw... something. Whatever he - or it - was, its aura was loud, golden, and utterly overbearing. Its armour, however... it was magnificent. He had long-since found that he could see flaws in nearly any mechanical construct, but that was a tough one. Few obvious points to exploit.

"... trooper guy from the store? I, uh, when someone kicks in a door in these parts, you shoot first. You know. Right?"

This was not good, not good at all. Those big fists looked able to crush his head, helmet and all. Standing there nervously, he flicked his empty eye sockets back and forth inside his helmet, sending a quick beckon call to his slave-rigged Ugly. By Ashla's grace, please let it start this time.

Lord Commander Relian Dorn​