Dominion Sacrilege on Cophrigin (Bryn'adul Dominion of Cophrigin V)

[Primeval Architect]

Cophrigin V stood as a testament to the despicable weakness that the Draelvasier sought to annihilate in their great Crusade. Even as the pair of mighty Phedrak Carriers drew closer to the indefensible humanoid habitation, members of its spiritualist cabal gathered to pray to whichever deities to which they'd been devoted, and to assess what options remained for them in order to avoid the coming slaughter. Each of them was familiar with the nature of the Bryn'adul, having observed as they'd carved a gruesome path throughout both Silver Concord and Sith Empire territories in the recent past. A few of those with a connection to the Force had even begun to shudder and shake at the carnage when it had first occurred, reduced to sobbing by the obliteration.

Thousands upon thousands of souls called Cophrigin V their home, utilizing it as a respite against the terror that'd come to the galaxy over and over again. Many were pacifists, unwilling to become fuel in the galaxy's wars. Their peacefulness would not save them from the threat encroaching upon them, nor slow the voracious hunger for battle that the Draelvasier felt for even a nanosecond.

In times of despair and hopelessness, even the most reasonable can cling to the words of those with a fiery disposition and unwavering resolve. When death awaited their course of inaction, there would always be those to renounce their old ways and bind themselves to the brutal thesis of a raving fanatic. Hate and anger began to soar among the population as the unforeseen instigator drove them to cruelty with every spittle-filled sentence.

There were few blasters upon the peaceful colony of Sanctuary, but by the time the Draelvasier strike-teams arrived the streets would already flow with blood and viscera, the prognostications of a wild-eyed madman having been brought to fruition in mere hours.

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Objective A - Pacifist Purge
A large band of pacifists and weaklings have sealed themselves away behind a series of bulkheads and blastdoors. It's assumed that many of these could be opened if one were able to understand their creed... though sufficient brute force may also get results.

Objective B - Sycophants and Scourgers
Thousands of souls have found themselves under the thrall and message of a fanatic imitator. They seek to wipe out their neighbors in an attempt at sating the bloodthirst of the Bryn'adul. Many have renounced particularly advanced technologies, and now roam about in lynch mobs and murderous gangs. Deal with them.

Objective C - Boat Breaker
Launch signatures have been detected both upon Cophrigin V and outside it. Evacuation craft are soaring to the area in an attempt at saving whatever few they can, and personal craft are launching from Cophrigin V in an attempt to do the same. Allow no evacuations and no survivors.

 

[Krarolk T'manu]

POST: I
OBJECTIVE: B
LOCATION: Regional urban center, southeastern Cophrigin
EQUIPMENT: In Signature | Five grenade-sized Refined Dramedius Prime Ore Shells | Driller Submachine Gun | Equipment on other Zealots varies
UNITS: Zealot Elite Squad (Krarolk, Abvor, the Zealot Commander)
IN PROXIMITY: TBD | Open to interaction

It seemed as if the people of this world were so weak that they would rip themselves asunder at the mere possibility of Bryn'adul invasion.
​

The Zealot Elite trio had piloted their Shard downwards into the small city ten minutes earlier without being intercepted by any ships or anti-aircraft weaponry, and landed on its outskirts without facing any army. Instead, without a single shot fired by the Bryn invasion force, the city was on fire. The squad had debated whether or not to simply leave the city to its inevitable fate, but then decided that it would be best to ensure that no survivors escaped. Still, the situation already seemed to be dire for the city's residents, and the trio's only friendly company were a few dozen Brutes dropped off from a nearby Gunboat and potential reinforcement once other urban centers were cleared. Still, the city could very easily be cleared with just their small force.

Now, the Zealots were nearly a kilometer into the city. There seemed to be no armed resistance, and they were surrounded by buildings deliberately burned and looted with windows shattered. Charred corpses lay scattered through the streets, some of the few remaining mostly intact features of the urban area.

Suddenly, there was motion to their left. The squad was instantly alert, turning to find the shadows of several figures vanish into an alleyway which the fires had not yet reached. The trio sprinted after the shadows, weapons raised and pointed. After about twenty seconds, the Zealots were able to identify the forms behind the shadows. Three adult Trandoshans lunged on top of a near-humanoid woman with a small child in her arms, causing them all to topple to the ground. Yet instead of turning to flee from the incoming Zealots, the Trandoshans pulled out clubs and knives and began to beat the woman into submission. Momentarily stunned, the Zealot trio came to a halt and observed the scene in front of them. Finally, as the Trandoshans managed to sieze the child and eased their assault of the mother, Abvor fired an uncharged Kraker bolt into the air above, announcing their presence.

The Trandoshans instantly turned around, realizing the presence of the Draelvasier approaching. Yet while the woman who now realized her increasingly dire situation began to cry out in terror, both the Trandoshians and Draelvasier ignored her, each trio scanning the other. Yet before the Elites could strike, the Trandoshans pulled out a small lump in their hands and presented it in front of the trio as if it were a sacrificial offering, much to the confusion of the Elites.

"Take thisss child, an' let usss join you on your glo'ious quest." stated the individual holding the child in heavily accented Basic.

​

 

[Sethrak]

Post: 1
Objective: A
Equipment: Culler Knife, Khukri

The young Warlock walked with speed toward the first of many obstacles blocking him from reaching his target. This one was perhaps the largest one, designed to give the foe as much time as possible. It didn't matter much as they would die regardless, the main difference would be how they die. Impatient Drael may rip them apart violently, draining the screams in rivers of blood. If the Bryn were there without delay, perhaps the weak opponent would be given a swift death.

This would be a personal challenge not a true one. Sethrak would race with himself as he tried to reach the pathetic enemy as quickly as he could. From his understanding the foe wouldn't fight. They were pacifists. The weakest kind of lifeform in the galaxy, pacifists were too afraid to even defend themselves, instead hiding behind walls.

From the sky above the reports claimed there were two thick stone walls with some kind of metal gate about 20ft high, leading to a bunker where hundreds of pacifists hid. With Sethrak there was a variety of Bryn numbering around 20 troops. They had explosives, ranged weapons, and melee weapons all available if needed. The Warlock didn't know if grenades and explosives would be enough to break through the gates and walls, but it was a reasonable place to start.

"Grenadiers. The wall."

 

[Osam]

Post 1
Objective C

Among the largest of the craft attempting evacuation from the surface of Cophrigin was a luxury cruiser. It's hull gleamed with aureate stripes interspersed between silver varnish, and the presence of what appeared to be a deck which was kept from the crushing weight and radiation of space by a mere ray-shield was indication enough that the vessel was lightly armed and highly sought after prize for any number of pirates or tyrannical rulers. Yet, the Bryn'adul were far more ascetic in their compulsions, and the comfort offered by such a worthy starship did nothing to stir the hearts of the dozens of Draelvasier warriors.

Instead of an impressive array of opulence, Osam saw only a gilded cage. Refugees from among the wealthier residents of the planet and their immediate servants and supplicants had managed to board the luxury cruiser and begin their ascent mere moments before the assault had begun upon their homeworld - how they'd managed to avoid the fanatics and sycophantic berserkers was a question that would ultimately never be answered.

The Debaucher writhed with noise and movement as the boarding parties prepared themselves for the slaughter ahead. Not for the first time, the Risen-Sraelvun took a glance at the fleshy walls that occasionally made themselves known between portions of metal and machinery. Were they not merely parasites held within the belly of such a great monster? Did it feel the tension within its core when the Baedurin began their war-chants, or when the Sraelvun drones shrieked in voracious hunger?

The warship grew closer to its prey - their velocities matching, their vectors paralleled, their confrontation inevitable.

 

[Sylok'Vanari]

​

Post: # 1
Objective: Decipher the Creed & Break Them.
Location: Cophrigin V, "Bulkhead" Central Bunker.
Allies Nearby: Sethrak

Expansion...

it remained to be true of the Draelvasier. Their reign of terror and vicious tactics swept through the star systems like a wildfire. They were an uncontrollable threat according to the misguided civilizations of greed. While that may have been the truth all along, the Drael ignored the digital influences that dishonored their kind. Instead, the fought for survival, pride, and preservation of true strength. They were, in their own right; worthy kings among peasants that barked false words of fear and putrid disgust for their massive appearances. Of course, none of this mattered. At least, not anymore.

The Drael pushed further and further, deeper and far beyond to a point of recognition. Signals of terrified weaklings were drowned out, suffocated by the efforts of The Bryn'adûl. Even when the Sith thought the backs of these criminally existent creatures were placed into their rightful corner, a resounding swathe of pure strength drove them back into their infected worlds of fictitious comforts of success and glamor. In truth, the Bryn made them pay dearly after it all. Now, the roots of their true purpose sprung an age of warlords, each of them stabilizing the vast expansion from getting out of control. They were becoming more and more advanced and tactfully efficient. Amazing things were on the horizon, but before the Bryn could be ushered fully into a new golden age of their own rightful thrones...

they needed more.

Sylok slid his lengthy finger nail across the edge of the steel wall, the efforts of the warlock and his own unit went to work. If they were going to reach the painfully naive survivors inside the bunker, it seemed Sethrak would do it by force. It was a staggering structure, one that reminded Sylok of the Regalia Temple. It had been a long time since he had been tested with an obstacle of wits and ultimate defense. Still, the Ashaka Weaver would find a way in. He lifted his nail from the edge of the tall wall, each section fragmented and welded together by the engineers of Cophrigin V.

Impressive.

Sylok's thought came swiftly, this wasn't an ordinary defense. He leaned over to inspect the wall, tiny markings chiseled deeper into the frame, carefully hidden at it's lowest point. Tiny spurts of soft vibrant threads seeped out from them. A sign of the force sliced through his very being, it slipped through for only a moment before a loud shout came and snapped him out of the sensation.

"Nades Live!!!!" One of the Grenadiers yelled, before screaming the final words. "And..Firing!"

Sylok shifted his gaze at the other end, the loud thunk of the grenades sifted through the air like arrows. Each of them careening downward toward the other half of the wall-like structure. A few dozen metal chimes hit the base side of the Bulkhead and a enormous blast awakened on impact. Smoke filled the area and before Sylok could see the results, he met eyes with the warlock. Sylok approached and the words just escaped him.

"I don't believe that's going to work."

Tathra Khaeus | Adrian L'lerim-Vandiir | Argaloth | Gordrak | Galak | Targant Howlain | Tolfik Aenon | Thogfer Kórdak | Osam | Krarolk T'manu | ​

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Post: One
Objective: B
Tags: Krarolk T'manu


After the battle of Nar Kreeta, the Titan had retreated into a solitary state. His age beginning to become apparent more and more, one hundred and thirteen years old. He had began this journey nearly sixty years ago. But now was the true age of the Drael, the next years would be the most critical. And no matter how worn his body became, he would be there.

-
Planetside;

The bone staff wielding trandoshan crashed into the ground, knocked down as the Axe whipped back and forth between his comrades with a vicious speed that rendered them more slabs of meat than honourable warriors. Tathra and his band of Juggernauts tore at them, setting aside their Carbines as the brutish Baedurin squeezed the life from them with their bare hands. The ignorant were pitiful, almost worthy of sympathy. But these pretenders were an insult. The massive crimson paw shot down toward the fallen trandoshan's throat, shattering the staff as it was brought up to protect the tribal warriors face. The massive gilded fingers snapped hard around the reptiles neck, eyes bulging nearly ready to pop out of their sockets.

With a thought the stone embedded in his gauntlet began a broadcast. No doubt his brethren would struggle with the fight, the slaughter. But this was a necessary lesson for all.

"These, pretenders. They might fool you, maybe make you think they are like us! But they are not, they have not risen from the ashes as we have, have not fought as we have. And now..." The reptile's features began to lose colour, pale and weak as he clawed at the massive fingers nestled round his throat, legs dangling helplessly as the Titan growled like an apex predator would in the face of dying prey. A deep and primal reminder of his superiority echoing from his stomach.

"Only renounce the heresies they have indulged for so long because they know Strength is knocking on their door!" With the shift of his thumb, the snap echoed through the transmission as he threw the body down, crashing with an unnatural thump into the solitary stone-marble platform below.

"No mercy!"

The broadcast ended.

 

[Gordrak]

Post: One


Objective: B


Equipment: Verikast Armor / Assault Carbine / Glaive


Tags: Tathra Khaeus , Krarolk T'manu



Gordrak strode down the street alone, his assault carbine in hand. His unit had spread out in order to better find and eliminate threats. Though they were split up, they made sure to remain close enough to support one another should the need arise. In addition to their positioning, several of his fellow Baedurin were survivors of Nar Kreeta. None of them belonged to the unit Gordrak lead into the grinder however. None of them had survived save for Gordrak himself. Gordrak stopped as, for even the briefest of moments, he thought of them once again. His brothers. He continued onward as the dull embers of hatred began to burn hot within him once more. The Marketplace had changed and altered him. A scream brought Gordrak out of his hate induced introspection however. Rounding his way into an intersection, Gordrak would find several humanoids standing outside of a burning store. They hardly noticed the towering Baedurin and instead focused on the building. Gordrak could instantly see why as the screams of several people emanated from within. A group consisting of several species had trapped others inside the building and set it to the torch.




Wordlessly and without caution, Gordrak assailed the mob. He didn't fire his weapon for he had no reason to do so. He simply used it to bludgeon the hysterical vermin to death. Bodies broke and were dashed apart as screams rang out for mercy. They said they wanted to belong while others claimed to be faithful. Gordrak didn't care in the slightest. He knocked the survivor to the floor and peered down into his wide, fearful eyes. Silence was all Gordrak gave the cretin before bringing his boot down upon him. The stomp itself was sufficient to kill the man instantly but Gordrak continued again and again. He did so until a pulpy red mess was all that was left. Turning toward the burning building, Gordrak could hear the screaming continue. Someone asked him for help though he wasn't entirely sure they realized who it was that had killed the mob. Regardless, Gordrak stood idle. He watched the building burn along with its occupants.




None of them deserved to live. Not a single one.

 

[Osam]

Post 2

Objective C

Somewhere within the confines of the Debaucher, a Shaman sent out a telepathic command, his wordless voice carried through an unseen ether as it whispered commands of awakening and consumption into the minds of dozens of slumbering guardians. The Draelvasier could not observe this exchange of invisible knowledge, this alteration of nature in its totality, but its results quickly became evident. Throughout the vessel the stir of long-dormant Decapi Spiderlings was indication enough of the Shaman's success.

The hybrid briefly shuffled to the side as one of these creatures made its way down his chosen corridor. Its legs were tipped like spears, and they pounded harshly against the floor with every step. The abomination briefly shifted upon its weight, gazing at the Risen-Sraelvun with curious gluttony before returning to its lethargic meandering. It was well-known that the Spiderlings remained quite tired for several minutes after they'd first been brought to bear, and so it made sense that they would reacquaint themselves with their masters in the meantime.

With their boarding parties now supported by the vicious Spiderlings, and with the luxury cruiser growing steadily closer, it became apparent that they'd arrive within the next two minutes.

Then, as always, they would fall like a hammer upon the bones of the weak.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Post: Two
Objective: B
Tags: Gordrak | Krarolk T'manu |

But the fight wasn't over yet. Not for some time, the natives had turned primal but not so much that they were above the use of weaponry. Once they knew the Bryn were not here to adopt their savage kin, they turned to the weak and shrivelled society that had encapsulated them for so long - The Sith. They'd slaughtered them in the palaces, in their archaic keeps. Gunboats flew overhead on his command as another Trandoshan was crushed under the blunt of the Axe, half of the skull caved in - pulling the skin from snout to the edge of his face. Edge of his cheekbone twisted inward as he slumped into a crater left by one of their grenades.

The Gunboat bore horns, a darkened shade that warped the sunlight as it cut through the clouds. It was the Honour Guards mark, dark plates of metal forged from Kesh. He recalled their mountains, crimson ore. An angry bull to charge into the enemy gates.

"Chieftain, we need you on board." One of the Honour Guards spoke, his right arm was scorched.

Looked like plasma scorching, misfire maybe. Tathra nodded, wordlessly placing the Axe onto the long of his back - his massive left hand motioning to Juggernauts at his side to rush into the adjacent Gunboats. They knew were they were headed, down to Gallahorn beach. The local military forces, native and primate alike had rounded up what they could. The beach was the last holdout before their major barracks facilities. If they took the beach, the island would be theirs - and the remainder of the Sith forces on Cophrigin would be finished.

"Combat fall out in thirty seconds! Phalanx, form up on my flanks and protect the marksmen! Grenadiers, on the angles of best cover!" The gauntlet fell by his wayside, Tathra grasped the two upper bracers - arms spread as he readied for the drop.

 

[Krarolk T'manu]

POST: II
OBJECTIVE: B
LOCATION: Regional urban center, southeastern Cophrigin
EQUIPMENT: In Signature | Five grenade-sized Refined Dramedius Prime Ore Shells | Driller Submachine Gun | Equipment on other Zealots varies
UNITS: Zealot Elite Squad (Krarolk, Abvor, the Zealot Commander)
IN PROXIMITY: Gordrak | Open to interaction

All at once, the Zealot Elites began to laugh.
​

There would be no salvation for the weak, pathetic Trandoshian trio before them. They were the lowest of vermin, burning their own planet to the ground and preying on mere children in an attempt to emulate a model far more complex and devout than they could ever understand. Their actions were beyond even the gravest of heresies, and they would find their carefully hidden fears start to emerge as the hostility of the Zealots became blatantly obvious.

"Mongrels don't deserve to live."
​

Picking targets with blinding speed honed by battle intuition, the three Zealots launched forwards towards their foes. Krarolk grabbed the head of the rightmost Trandoshian and slammed him to the ground, instantly sweeping him off his feet. Before he could react, he was impaled from below, his head skewered on a spike of concrete that Krarolk had raised from the ground with his spiritual energy. Abvor delivered a charging punch against the leftmost Trandoshian strong enough to slam him against the wall marking the end of the alley three meters back, and a massive armored foot caved his skull in to instantly kill him. The Commander carefully aimed her glaive and then thrust it through the third Trandoshian and baby at the same time, its blade penetrating both bodies and ending both their lives in seconds.

As the corpses fell to the ground, the three Zealots began to eye the paralyzed mother. Such weak and anguished prey would be entertaining to toy around with, but there were still more mongrels to slaughter. Consequently, she was granted a relatively painless death as Krarolk unloaded three Driller bullets into her head. As the trio left the alley, the fires gradually consuming the settlement caught up to the slaughter and cremated the five bodies.

The three Zealots walked casually through the burning settlement, observing the handiwork of their kin and the planet's own insane residents. After about a minute of walking, they came across a Baedurin clubbing a mob of false believers to death with his rifle. Eager to continue their hunt, the trio approached the unchallenged Draelvasier.

"Comrade, have you seen any more of the mongrels?" asked the Zealot Commander, momentarily representing the entire Elite Squad.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Post: Three
Objective: B
Tags: Gordrak | Krarolk T'manu

"No mercy brethren! Today, you fight with me and today you will wipe away the remnants that linger on!" Tathra's words reverberated through the halls of the Gunboats as they cut through the broken maroon skies, shapes of black smoke that were once cities dotted the horizon.

The deployment hatches of the Boats opened, the ground below a mixture of hot-torched plasma and screams of abandoned sith infantry. Broken imperial artillery had melted into the ground, alongside a mixture of various native forces. The battlefield was chaotic, but all battlefields were. Tathra leapt from the confines of the Boat, the scorched ground breaking like brittle coal underfoot.

No time was needed before the assault began as dozens of enemy positions, made of rock and slate constructions that cut into the rocky hills above opened fire on the approaching beach forces.

 

[Osam]

Post 3
Objective C

The sudden shudder that spread throughout the ship's floor was enough of an indication that the Debaucher had made contact with its prey. The mighty beast went to work, siphoning away at whatever systems it could, and causing a massive blackout throughout large portions of the vessel. Osam and the other Draelvasier who had been preparing until that moment surged into action, confident in themselves and their equipment and that the will of the Titan would carry them to greatness.

Security crews immediately did their best to meet with the sudden influx of invaders. Luxurious and opulent, the sycophants and their overbearing masters were not combatants by any measure, and seldom possessed anything more than small knives and blades or weapons that were more ceremonial than functional in execution. Nevertheless, their positions of prominence had granted them the services of a number of more ruthless mercenaries, and these formed a much more solid if not insubstantial blocker to the Bryn'adul forces.

Osam watched carefully as one such guardian peeked around a corridor's corner, squeezing off a pair of high-powered slugthrower rounds which distended and pulped one of the Drones. For all of the preparation and execution of such ambushes and guerilla tactics, however, the guardians were more suited to dealing with the arrival of thugs or gangsters, or perhaps even a piratical incursion. They were not prepared for the full-might of a military force, and the Draelvasier were quickly making swift work of their forces.

Blood lined the corridors. In mere minutes, it seeped into every wall.

 

[Gordrak]

Post: Two


Objective: B


Equipment: Verikast Armor / Assault Carbine / Glaive


Tags: Tathra Khaeus , Krarolk T'manu





Gordrak remained quiet for a moment. His attention focused entirely on the building and the people inside of it. Part of Gordrak wanted to attempt putting a bullet in the one who had called for help. Though he was sure he had their location identified, he never took any action. They were going to die without help and firing into the building would ultimately be a waste of ammo. Yes, Ammo that could used against someone else. As Gordrak went to move himself away from the building, he found himself addressed verbally.




" I haven't seen anyone else unless you count them. "




Gordrak said as he pointed toward the burning building. The screams of those trapped inside had dwindled as its occupants either passed out from smoke inhalation or ran afoul of all the fire. Though it could have been the ambient sounds of the people cooking, Gordrak swore he heard a final, whispered plea for help. Gordrak took a long and final look at the building before turning his full attention to his fellow Drael. He promptly brought a fist to his chest whilst inclining his head as a show of respect.




" My unit split up in order to cover more ground. They're close enough to be recalled however should the need arise. "




After speaking, Gordrak began to remove the viscera and gore of those he had beaten from his carbine. As he did so, he awaited word from the Zealots that stood before him. Gordrak figured they'd either join his unit in purging this sector or move on to one of their own. Regardless, Gordrak stood ready to assist them however he could should he be called upon to do so. Loyalty to the Bryn'adul and his fellow Draelvasier was all he had left now anyway.

 

[Krarolk T'manu]

POST: III
OBJECTIVE: B
LOCATION: Outer area, urban center, southeastern Cophrigin
EQUIPMENT: In Signature | Five grenade-sized Refined Dramedius Prime Ore Shells | Driller Submachine Gun | Equipment on other Zealots varies
UNITS: Zealot Elite Squad (Krarolk, Abvor, the Zealot Commander)
IN PROXIMITY: Tathra Khaeus | Gordrak | Open to interaction

“Understood, comrade.” replied the Commander.

“We shall take another route, as to cover more ground.”​

The trio returned the salute of the commander before them and rushed off diagonally to his right. They accelerated into a light but easy jog, scanning their surroundings for any notable landmarks.

The squad remained in the outer half of the small city, where new fires were still being started and the majority of the subjugation force lay. Deeper in the city lay larger fires fueled by buildings and human interference alike, along with the growing chants of the heretics who remained standing within the inferno. The center of the city was likely also the origin of the fires, as well as the origin of the anarchy spreading throughout.

With that in mind, the trio came to a consensus.

“This anarchy must have a ringleader or mastermind among the city’s populace, perhaps someone within the inner city.” exclaimed Krarolk.

“As degenerated as their ideas may be, there must be a leader who started and continues to enable this rotten growth.” agreed Abvor.

“Well said, Elites.” replied the Commander. “If we find and kill the individual or group behind this wretched cult, then it will in return pacify the population and make our advance far less tedious. Let’s move inwards.”

The other two Elites nodded in reply, turning to face the inner city. Then, they continued their jog unflinchingly into the inferno.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Post: Four
Objective: B
Tags: Gordrak | Krarolk T'manu

The Phalanx rushed to him from the descending Gunboats, his own Shield released from the attachment on his gauntlet. He bent at the knees, lowering his target side as the blaster turrets whipped round to open fire. The kinetic impact made for a tough time, the sand of the beach was a mixture of brittle coal and glass alongside wet sludge deeper in where the Boats hadn't reached. The water still rushed in, filling in the cracks and cooling the molten scarred surface.

All around them the Heavies rushed to take position on the flanks as the gathering Phalanx moved to draw the enemy fire. Mortars came crashing down from hidden position behind the turret walls. Marksmen were destroyed, weapons and armoured scrap attached to blown off limbs filled the beach as dozens of Drones likewise were cut down by the sheer heavy blaster fire from above.

The Titan held his ground, growling in defiance as the pressure waned - the Phalanx joining his side consequently lead to a spreading of the turret fire. Finally, he could move forward steadily.

"Forward advance!" Tathra growled, roaring over the sounds of heavy blaster fire.

 

[Kad]

Post: One
Objective: D - Behind Enemy Lines

A Carbine round dropped a Sith as it attempted to run, another dropped as the Carbine rifle caught the Sith slime in the leg. The Sith fell on the his knee, placing the sith's hand on a tree. Gredak smiled, twitching his rifle from left to right, firing at the hand placed on the tree; pinning it in place.

The Carbine rounds would start doing their work, burning through the flesh of the Sith as it howled in pain. Gredak backed up into the foliage, waiting. His bait had been set and now only time would tell if it would be a success.

Two arrived, the first looked around as the second tried to take the Carbine from the hand, burning it. Gredak couldn't help but snarl, raising his Carbine as the two tried to free their kin in futility.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Post: Five
Objective: B

The advance was slow, many of the phalanx Juggernauts were struggling to keep moving forward. Their feet were slipping on the cracked volcanic-burnt sand, glass and the intermittent sludge of the trampled wet sand. The Risen and Juggernaut marksmen at their back were outclassed by the Zealots at their side, picking off the Sith hiding in the bunkers up the hill.

But even so their numbers were so great it did not matter. Nothing would matter if they didn't get up the hill, a few more steps until they were out of the turrets immediate range. They'd be inside of the limits of the turrets motor-range.

The phalanx formed into a semi-circle around their marksmen as the Sith in the bunker switched to small arms fire, something quickly overwhelmed as their Heavies set up tripod-triad positions.

"Time to return the favour, Warriors." The Titan smiled, thumping the shoulder-pad of the Juggernaut opposite him.

Tathra's compact shield retracted as he took the Axe into a two-handed grip, the ruby-blade of the Axe glowing as its power seethed - screaming to be released as the Bryn at his side cheered him on.

 

[Kad]

Post: Two
Objective: D - Behind Enemy Lines

One turned, looking around them and stopped frozen in place. It was looking right at the barrel of the Carbine, and behind it the yellow eyes of the Zealot. Gredak dropped the first looking in his direction before a word could be spoken.

The Carbine round crushing the sith's head inward as the sith's body fell opposite the one remaining attached to the wall. The second, he shot twice in the chest as they turned and ran. The last pulled helplessly at the sith's hand stuck to the tree.

Wordlessly panting in his final breaths as Gredak fired another shot through the back of the sith's head. Gredak didn't waste time, moving through the trenches as he heard the hail for assistance. Though the Zealot Shadow had no intention of running out into the hail of fire.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Post: Six
Objective: B

Tathra swung high, from leg to overhead with an massive blast escaping from the blade's arc. The ground between them and the Bunker was burnt, the red kinetic wave crashing into the face of the bunker - crushing it inward as the munitions crate of the turret exploded.

All across the beach, the Bryn warriors roared in excitement at the destruction of the first bunker. The Titan had destroyed it, and more were to come. Tathra rushed forward, Axe in hand up the steep side of the hill. The Juggernauts followed alongside, trudging up the sand as Tathra leapt the distance, leaving a trail behind as Juggernauts rushed up the hill at either flank of the Titan.

Arriving at the top of the hill, alongside the bunkers were trenches full of Sith. Some ran, others stood their ground. Tathra swung the Axe back, spinning on the back-foot as his arms rose overhead and down once more as he came round - the Axe slamming into the top of the trench wall as a shockwave of kinetic energy crashed outward from the weapon.

 

[Krarolk T'manu]

POST: IV
OBJECTIVE: B
LOCATION: Urban center, southeastern Cophrigin
EQUIPMENT: In Signature | Five grenade-sized Refined Dramedius Prime Ore Shells | Driller Submachine Gun | Equipment on other Zealots varies
UNITS: Zealot Elite Squad (Krarolk, Abvor, the Zealot Commander)
IN PROXIMITY: TBD | Open to interaction

The inferno enveloped the Zealots in a fiery cloak.
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Abvor took the lead, his Baedurin heat resistance greatly appreciated by the Aeravalin Krarolk and Zealot Commander. As their surroundings became more charred and ruined, Abvor tossed aside entire mounds of ashes and melting steel with barely a bruise on his hands. Here, the smell of smoke was heavy, threatening to suffocate the unprotected lungs of the Zealots. In response, the trio pulled out cloth rags from their waist belts and tied them over their mouths and nasal cavities, providing a temporary respite. Still, the squad doubted that they would be able to stay so deep in the city for long.

Around the squad was a scene of total anarchy. Buildings and vehicles burned in all directions, top floors of apartments toppling and caving in every floor below. Almost as common were the corpses, hundreds of bodies of individuals of a myriad of species. A kilometer in the distance, a great fire surrounded a hill of flesh dozens of meters high, melted corpses no longer distinguishable from each other. The trio continued to follow the ruined road, carefully trekking directly to the hill.

About two hundred uneventful meters into their march, two individuals approached the trio. They were both adult humanoid males, naked above the hips, their faces covered with ash and blood, their chests sporting numerous third-degree burns. Yet they stood solemnly as if they were part of a honor guard, each of them wielding rudimentary spears made of bloody bones. As disgusting and disfigured as they appeared, all three Zealots of the Elite Squad came to the realization that the gatekeepers could be useful sources of intelligence before their inevitable slaughter.

"Greetings, powerful ones." stated the gatekeeper on the right. "Our prophet has predicted your arrival."

For a brief moment, the trio pondered a response. Then, Abvor and the Commander nodded at Krarolk, the squad's most proficient Basic speaker.

"Where is he?" asked Krarolk in his accented intermediate-advanced Basic.

"At the base of the great sacrificial hill ahead." replied the gatekeeper on the left.

"Please take us there." ordered Krarolk.

"With pleasure, powerful ones. He wishes nothing more than to see you." concluded both gatekeepers at the same time.

They turned around to face the hill and the flames rising around it and then walked forwards, leading the way for the Zealots.

The Elite Squad took advantage of the reverence of the heretical zealots, manipulating their misguided ranks to be brought to their leader without shedding a single drop of Draelvasier blood.





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