Dominion Snail Smashers - BotM Dominion of Crakull

[Rebirth]

​

Watching the monitors within Alkonost's central command center, Shell Conjurer Vortai felt a shiver run through her gummy flesh, vibrating her organs within her shell. She had never expected something like this. The chaos of the war-torn wider galaxy had largely been confined to a few key frontiers, along with the ever-coveted Core Worlds. The Croke Reach, distant and isolated, had seldom been a target for anything more threatening that Ebruchi pirates and Vagaari slavers.

But the ships coming out of hyperspace were too numerous to be mere bandits. This was an invasion force, the kind of armada one would expect to see along the Sith-Alliance warfront.

"Their fleet continues to emerge from deep space, Shell Conjurer," her second told her. She was barely listening, awed by the size of the advance. The fleet could only belong to the Brotherhood of the Maw... but by last reports, they had been little more than raiders, striking at backwaters like Batuu and Jakku before withdrawing when a stronger force arrived.

When had the jackals become wolves? It seemed that Crakull would be one of the first places to learn of that transformation... and that the knowledge would prove fatal. "Prepare our defenses," Vortai ordered, turning away from the screen at last. "Our cloaks and illusions will allow us to ambush and destroy them."

In truth, she was less sure. Against such numbers and raw savagery, their old deceptions might not be enough...

​

Few outsiders have ever visited the distant, shadowy planet of Crakull. It is the homeworld of the mysterious Croke, an alien race whose tiny size stands in contrast to their great power. A Croke resembles a spiral-shelled snail sprouting countless spindly, centipede-like legs out of its oily body. Each is small enough to fit in the palm of a human's hand, and could easily be squashed to death even by a child.

But the Force flows through them, allowing them tremendous powers of illusion. Anyone meeting a Croke might never know that it was an alien, for it can conjure up the face of a friend, a lover, or a stranger of any species, even appearing up to three meters tall.

With their dark Force powers and their advanced technology, the Croke conquered and colonized large parts of their sector, making Crakull the capital world of the so-called Croke Reach. It is rare that any external threat has been able to challenge them; most of the damage to the Reach has been due to civil war.

But now, the Maw has opened, and the drums of war beat in deep space. The terrifying Brotherhood of the Maw, basking in the dark energies of shadowed Rhand, has already conquered and exploited Lao-mon and Osseriton. The hungry gaze of the Heathen Priests has turned upon the Croke Reach, and even these mysterious and deadly aliens are surely doomed.

Crakull, Capital of the Croke Reach
Objective One
​

The defenders of Crakull will do everything they can to survive. They will play on your deepest fears and darkest memories. They will take the forms of those you trust, those you hate, and those who terrify you. They will try to turn your mind against you and drive you from their planet. But insanity is our shield; we are the true horror-bringers, and we will show them why and how.

Face your nightmares, pierce the illusions, and rip the little snail creatures out of the images they project. By reaching inside their illusory forms, you can find their small, slimy bodies and crush them underfoot. They are of no use to us; permit none to survive.

Their technology, however, is highly advanced. Plunder their cities and take it from them.

The primary Croke settlement, serving as the planetary capital, is known as Alkonost. Once it falls, the other cities will do the same. This is a simple mission of extermination. Tumble down their bizarre spiral-shaped towers, kill the Croke - and any mercenaries they may have hired - in the streets, and take whatever spoils of war you desire.

Remember to be on the lookout for any of the aliens' potent genetic research or weapons technology. There may also be nexuses of Dark Force power to exploit; Crakull has been bathed in negative emotions and evil powers for millennia, and the stain of the Bogan is strong here. Seize your trophies and exterminate the unworthy.

Explume Minor, Former Croke Colony
Objective Two
​

Centuries ago, during a war among their own kind, the Croke unleashed hordes of Lugubraa against each other. These lamprey-like aliens, constantly eating and multiplying, were devastating soldiers... but they soon grew out of control. They turned against their masters and devastated many worlds of the Croke Reach. When they had devoured everything on the worlds they conquered, they became mercenaries throughout the Unknown Regions, bartering their deadly services in exchange for food for the horde.

A huge army of Lugubraa still lurks on Explume Minor, a lost Croke colony they overwhelmed in that ancient war. They would greatly strengthen the Brotherhood. Travel to the ravaged planet and meet with the Lugubraa elders. If they will not join us willingly, break them. They must submit.

The elders may be willing to negotiate, and offering them an unending supply of enemies to devour... or they may demand that we prove our strength. The central war camp of the Lugubraa contains a great arena where warriors may be tested. If it will help our cause, face down the finest warriors of these ever-hungry monsters. Show them that their future lies with the Brotherhood... if they desire to have a future at all.

Once their allegiance has been secured, the warlords may recruit these alien horrors into their tribes and equip them for a new campaign against the wider galaxy. Whip them into shape, and prepare to unleash a horde that cannot be stopped.

Objective Three
​

Contribute to the fall of the Croke Reach in any way you see fit, or attempt to oppose the invasion.

The Messenger | Dagon Kaze | Darth Immortuos | Gren Blidh | Koleric | Alars Keto | Kyrel Ren | Lirka Ka | Lord Kizash | Lunafreya Solidor | Maestus | Katachi Ren | Darth Solipsis | Zachariel Steelblood​

​

 

[Maestus]

...

 

[The Mongrel]

Objective: 1 (Smash Their Illusions)
Location: Crakull, approaching Alkonost
Tags: Open

Another day, another assault shuttle streaking toward the surface of a hostile planet. But The Mongrel knew that this time was different. Batuu and Jakku had just been raids, temporary attacks aimed at claiming resources before the galaxy's great powers snapped them up. Lao-mon and Osseriton had fallen practically without a fight, their populations either fleeing into the wilderness or falling beneath the lash as slaves. But Crakull... this shadowed world beneath them was hostile, but this was more than just a raid. It was a conquest.

The Mongrel still bore the scars of previous battles. His leg brace, upgraded with salvage from Jakku, now bore his weight with more grace, but the deep cut of an enemy lightsaber would remain there forever. Cuts and scrapes across his face, chest, and arms lingered, the remnants of exploding masonry or distant fragmentation grenades. He would earn yet more scars, and more trophies - like his necklace of fingers and teeth, or the ryyyk blade he wore strapped across his back. Each was a lesson, one he would put to use on Crakull.

The assault shuttle lurched as the planetary defense batteries opened up on the invasion fleet. Unlike Batuu and Jakku, this was no backwater scoundrel port; this was the capital of a sovereign power, one that had stood for many centuries. But The Mongrel and his fellow marauders knew no fear. They chanted and screamed and bellowed war cries, jostling each other and banging on the bulkheads, drowning out the turbulence outside with the turbulence of their inner rage. They were all thirsty for plunder, blood, and glory.

Soon, they would have it, or die in the attempt.

Several of the shuttles were hit, either vaporized on impact or sent spiraling off into a mountainside to explode in a great ball of flame. No matter. The Maw was legion. Between the slave-soldiers taken from every raid and the mad clones bred in the vats of Gehinnom, their numbers where inexhaustible. In response to the attack from below, the Brotherhood fleet opened up, targeting the defensive emplacements with devastating orbital barrages. One by one, the defensive guns began to fall silent, and the shuttles screamed on.

They landed on a hillside not far from the strange spiral towers of Alkonost, the barren rocks and dust scattering beneath the power of their repulsorlifts as they set down. Then the ramp descended, and the marauders streamed out, screaming dark prayers to the Three Avatars. They joined those emerging from other shuttles, their ranks filling in until they became an unending swarm. Running among them, pushing his way up to the lead, The Mongrel was certain of one thing: the Croke's dark magic would not save them from the Maw.

Whatever defenses were in that alien city, they would be swept away.

 

[Zachariel Steelblood]

Objective: 1
Tags: @Avatar of Rebirt | Maestus | The Mongrel

Crakull, a planet Zachariel had never heard of before, nor would he remember once he left. The same could be said for most planets Zachariel visited, and there were few exceptions to that rule. One was Osseriton, and that was because he now ruled the planet. This planet may have joined the list, if it were the first planet the Brotherhood was conquering. But it wasn't, nor was it his first, thus it would be forgotten. That didn't mean the natives wouldn't fight hard, and Zachariel looked forward to that slaughter.

As his own shuttle landed, Zachariel strode forth from the hatch, casually watching as the masses of cultists swarmed forth. In the prior raids, Zachariel had come down with a jetpack, this time he wished to see how the masses would fight. Not only that, but they would fight all the harder if a Warlord was watching them, and that would let a few diamonds show through the rough. Smirking slightly as the mob cried out upon seein ghim, Zachariel strode forward through their masses. They parted before him, but he didn't make his way fully to the front, wanting to watch and see what would happen.

Not too far before them stood the city of the natives. It could be considered imposing, if Zachariel didn't know it would soon be half destroyed, and fully looted. Smirking at that, Zachariel turned sharply to the right as a branch snapped. There in the trees was a large predator, staring directly at Zachariel. Several marauders near Zachariel turned as well and yelped in surprise. Zachariel merely laughed as the beast lunged at him, even as something sizzled in the air. With no care in the world, Zachariel swiped his arm up and at it, passing through it and into the center of the beast.

In doing so, he grabbed the Croke found within, holding a specialized blade meant to cut through armor. Zachariel merely snatched the creature free and squeezed lightly. The Croke squirmed in pain at that, attempting to fulfill its mission. It had recognized Zachariel as a leader, and sought to bring chaos to the Brotherhood by assassinating him. It failed spectacularly. Removing the blade from its hand, Zachariel chuckled at the small thing, then he squeezed. Hard. The creature popped in his hands, spreading gore everywhere. Chuckling at that, Zachariel looked at those around him.
"Look at them, so tiny, so helpless." Dropping the remains, Zachariel continued his march towards the city, chuckling darkly all the way. Raising his voice, Zachariel called to the entire horde charging towards the city. "Slaughter them all! Break them wholesale and leave nothing but death in your wake!"

Various marauders shouted their approval, roaring their bloodlust. They picked up their pace then, charging forth as they had, but with new vigor. Zachariel himself simply continued to march, around him his chosen followed. Blood would be shed, and skulls would be collected. This city would fall, as would all its defenders.

 

[Darth Solipsis]

​

Objective 3: Break the Jedi, Oversee the Invasion
Location: Orbit of Crakull, Holy City of Gehinnom
Tags: Romi Jade | Aaran Tafo | Dagon Kaze | Rebirth | Cedric Grayson

It was inevitable. The Croke had been ill-prepared in their cradle of power, left to their own devices for far too long unchallenged. They grew bloated off of the success of their own making, their powers of illusion aiding in the conquests of their species as they took what they pleased when they pleased. It was ironic, the Croke had taken from so many and now in turn were being taken from, their home besieged by a force inconceivable and innumerable. Hordes of slave-soldiers, battle hardened marauders, and maddened clone warriors flooded the skies above Crakull threatening to drown out the light forever more upon the surface of the once crown jewel of the Croke species. There would be no surrender, no mercy, and most of all..

...no hope.

The eyes of the Sith Master faded from the holoprojector displaying the battle over the skies of Crakull. His pale, frail form trailed off toward the center of the massive audience chamber, his eyes centering on the Heathen Priests assembled before him. A hollowed pedestal lay before him filled with sand as he approached the others, a throne revealed as they parted for his approach. The fiery eyes of the Elder came down upon the sandfilled bowl within the pedestal and the object nestled in the grains.

Taloned hands, pale and sickening, reached within the bowl. Slowly, the sands around the object scattered away as it rose from it's resting place. A crown, or cap of wicked design, one to hide his upper face and denote his place as a prophet among the dark clergy. The headpiece slid upon his crown, seating in place as his gaze shifted to the throne, followed by steps to it's obsidian seat. The Voice of the Maw took his place among the Heathen Priesthood as they moved to raised podiums encircling the edges of the chamber.

Standing guard among the powerful darksiders present were the red robed Palatine Guard, standing at the ready with zeal emanating from their every being.

The Dark Prophet's voice echoed through the chamber violently, savagely piercing not only their ears but minds.

 

[Gren Blidh]

Objective: 1
Location: Alkonost
​

His newfound comrades in the Brotherhood came here simply to kill and take. Nothing wrong with that. But Gren came here to learn.

A weathered hand gripped the side of a structure that the mollusks called home; bits of coarse sand slipped through his fingers as he did. The tower appeared like little more than a sandcastle on a beach, but to the diminutive Croke it was a veritable skyscraper. How strange that such small beings could wield such power. Gren's intuition in the Force was still in its infancy, and as this new world opened up to him it felt like drinking from a waterfall, but even he could sense the overwhelming darkness that enshrouded this planet. It waited beneath the sand like a beating heart.

And somewhere, the Croke were out there, their small bodies conjuring incantations to invade his mind, yet Gren pressed on as if guided purely by instinct.

From what he had learned of the Force thus far, it was about illusions - the ability to be many places at once by projecting consciousness across time and space. The Croke were masters of this type of Force magic, and Gren's instinct was to examine them and divulge the secret to their power. And so, he pressed on, alone, drawn to unimaginable transcendent dark energies.

A shadow loomed from behind the nearest corner. Was it really there, or were Gren's senses becoming more attuned as he reached out with the Force?

"I'm here," He called to it, fearlessly. When the Croke saw that their mind-bending chilly dark energy was not enough to dissuade this outsider, they would have to change tactics.

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Objective: 2
​

Rumors had started to spread through the inner systems of the Rim. Crusaders, they called them, demons others said. Some said that when the sky was eclipsed by darkness that even was visible through the brightest stars of the night. That once fierce marauders that once came and went now were said that it was said to have massed in force. The Great Heathen army some called, for if they did not convert you they would kill you. Whispers yes, prayers were sent to help banish the evil that was brewing. Even while the wider galaxy remained blissfully unaware of what was transpiring on the edges of the galaxy.

That was until today, plans were made. Now the time had come for the Heathen Priests to enact the road to the Maw. For many believed, including Kyrel that the only way to the Maw itself, was through burning it's way there. Killing or converting those that would see what the priests have seen. Kyrel once heard the call in life, and now he had become indebted to it in death. Now while the main attack had begun on the capital of a system only known as Crakull. A world that seemed for the most part unimportant. Compared to the worlds of the wider galaxy, where the Maw was said to lie.

But in either case, the great work must still continue, this was paramount. The Maw still relied on ancient tech from the Nihil Forebears. While that proved useful, worlds and technology were a must when adding to the collective of the Maw. Kyrel's own plans for ships, weapons, and armor otherwise were still being constructed. Not ready for use, or even testing for that matter. Today another matter of importance had caught his attention.

Among the cabal of horrors, the Brotherhood had amassed. Kyrel found himself waiting on the inner cages of an arena. Explume Minor, a colony associated with the conquest itself, had a different kind of challenge. Kyrel awaited adorned in his armor. The sounds of cheering and the announcer hailing the champion. A Zabrak that wielded a stolen Lightsaber had cut through a nexu, and now Kyrel was waiting to emerge. The plan was simple, the planet itself had beasts that would be useful for when the Brotherhood launched its crusade upon the wider galaxy. Now while brute force was what Kyrel would have wanted. There was an alternative. Fight against the best of the best in this world, and gain the respect of the elders. Show them the meaning of the Brotherhood, and they would convert willingly without sacrificing more soldiers that were needed elsewhere.

"Daxus, Daxus, Daxus!!!" He heard the cheering of the crowds, followed by the booming voice of the Droid announcer. "Well folks, the bloodlust ain't over yet here at the Dread Arena! For our next challenger, a mysterious man who only calls himself "Ren" He may not look like much, but let's see if he can give all of you a run for your credit chip! I give you Ren!!!" The crowd in excitement and adrenaline continued the cheering, while Kyrel was able to breathe a sigh of relief out of habit. Finally, the time had come for a fight, to show that the Maw was the true path.

 

[Maestus]

Aboard a larger shuttle, the Sith Maestus stood in the cockpit. Red rimmed black eyes studying their descent into the atmosphere. The shuttle rocked, swayed and gyrated as it burned towards the surface. She grabbed a bar to keep her balance.

Truth be told, she knew little of this world or is predominant species, The Croke. What little knowledge she had was their technological advancements. Genetic as well as tech were their specialty. And Maestus aimed at stealing all the knowledge she could. She would put that knowledge to use in her own company, ATI.

Behind her, in the hold area, her 40 Chosen awaited landing. They were well disciplined, extremely well trained and eager for battle. But they were not the mindless heathen marauders that made up the Maw. They were not screaming and banging on walls or bulkheads. They radiated a silent exuberance for bloodshed. The vibe was full of rage and intensity.

The ship held it together and made it through the atmosphere. Suddenly, a string of cannon fire whizzed towards the ship. The pilot, with the aid of an astromech, maneuvered deftly out of the way. Of the first volley, that is. The second clipped a wing, sending the ship spiraling towards the ground. Alarms started blaring through out the ship.

The pilot and droid worked quickly to keep the ship stable. But it was to no avail. The ship started teetering to one side then the other. They were losing at an alarming rate. A rate that would secure their destruction if not slower. Coming up fast and hard, Maestus could make out the capitol city Alkonost. She decided she was not ready to sacrifice herself, and had an idea.

She closed her eyes and outstretched her hands, palms down. She called on the rage within her. The rage that a soon to be conquered people would dare fire on her ship. That her demise was being attempted. She was NOT going to die at the hands of inferiors. And this planet was full of inferior beings.

Drawing on that rage, and not a small bit of hate, Maestus began to focus on the ship. In her minds eye, she could see it stabilizing, yet still falling out of the sky. One problem at a time. She highly doubted she was strong enough to comlpetely stop the ship's descent at such a rate of speed. But she believed she could slow it enough so they would not all die in the crash and ensuing explosion.

Drawing on her experience on Mustafar, but applying it to a much larger and faster object, she strained heavily. She was attempting to slow the shuttle's descent, but was thus far ineffective. Altitude was dropping at a shocking rate. Maestus, breathing hard from the effort, doubled down. With a deep breath, she expelled her will onto the Dark Side of the Force. She connected to it, almost violently.

Barely noticeable at first, the ship began to slow down. It was still dropping at a speed that would kill them instantly, but Maestus was on the right track. She continued her struggle to slow the ship. As she continued exerting herself, sweat began to pour down her face, seeping into her eyes and stinging. No matter, she had more important matters to attend.

Her goal wasn't to completely stop the ship. She wanted to slow it enough that it would have a survivable crash landing. Some would die, undoubtedly. They could all be replaced. Training new Chosen was something Maestus relished. The abject breaking of will and spirit, then reshaping them into elite warriors almost amused her. But she wanted more from her Chosen. Hopefully, the genetic research the Crokes have been engaged in would aid her in getting to her goal that much quicker.

As Maestus enforced her will over the Force, the ship slowed even more. She needed to get it under terminal velocity, and informed the pilot of such. It took what seemed forever, and an exhausting effort on her behalf. But the pilot finally shouted they were slow enough to theoretically survive. Good enough odds.

She instructed the pilot to steer them to just outside Alkonost, as best he could. Not bothering to warn the Chosen, she knew they would survive or die. Either way, Maestus would survive, of that she would make sure.

The pilot tried his best, struggling to control the battered ship. He aimed as well as he could for the area next to the city. But they were screaming in for the landing. To say it was bumpy was an udnerstatement. Maestus grabbed a bar and held on for dear life. The ship slammed into teh ground, causing one wing to snap like a pretzel. Onward it skimmed and slammed into trees, rocks, Crokes. The shuttle demolished everything in its path.

Finally coming to a rest roughly 2 km from the city, the loading ramp tried to open. Best it could manage was halfway, as one of the hydraulic pistons was snapped. Maestus picked herself up off the cockpit floor, and made her way to the ramp. Behind her followed roughly 25 of her remaining Chosen. Maestus lead the way, jumping down first. Her warriors were quick to follow and form up. 5 units of 5.

Today, my Chosen, we will take this planet, and its denizens, and we shall devour them. The Maw can not be stopped. Your targets are simple. Kill the weak, enslave the strong. Take anything you desire.

Short and succinct, Maestus herself lead the march to the city borders. Thankful for the time it would take, she took the opportunity to refresh some of her will and energy. The effort it took to slow the ship had been draining for her. Her lightsaber, hanging from her hip, would be her instrument of destruction today.

The small horde had arrived.

Darth Solipsis Zachariel Steelblood​

 

[Katachi Ren]

Objective: 2
Location: Explume Minor
Nearby: Kyrel Ren

Some would have expected a warlord among the Brotherhood would have instead enjoyed the thrill of raiding the Croke homeworld. Yet, Maweth saw no challenge with the Croke. Their talent for illusions aside, he did not see anything challenging in raiding a world in the grasp of slugs no bigger than his fist. Instead, he brought himself to their colony, inhabited by a race of sucker-faced creatures.

At this time, his skeletal helm stared into the arena. He and his small squad of raiders had decided to make themselves appear as mere vagabonds, observers of the bloodsports happening in the pit below. It was also his chance to observe.

He had heard from his comrades regarding a newcomer to their ranks. One who calls himself "Ren". Maweth was no fool. He had heard of the Knights of Ren. Whispers, mostly, of dark crusaders who helped the First Order grip entire systems. Thus, he wanted to see how much this shambling thing calling himself a Knight of Ren would stack up to the rumors he heard

Maweth also saw the opportunity to have himself positioned here to help bring the planet's natives to their cause. Despite being a warrior first, he remembered his past before the Brotherhood. How often diplomacy, even for the warrior, required patience. And if things turned south, then he would be pleased regardless. It was the way of the Maw, after all, to strike when was called for...

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Objective: 2 (Enslave the Devourers)
Location: Explume Minor, Arena
Tags: Katachi Ren , Kyrel Ren

"I am glad that you are here to witness Ren's prowess, Lord Katachi Ren ," Tu'teggacha said, turning his bulbous head to stare at the Warlord. "He and his disciples have wrought great slaughter in the Maw's name upon Batuu and Jakku." The Ebruchi chuckled, a wet, sucking sound that turned the stomach. "Their champion has no idea what he is about to face." Indeed, the Taskmaster looked forward to witnessing the fate of Daxus. There were few things he enjoyed quite as much as the spark of hope going out from a sentient's eyes.

Tu'teggacha had not come to this arena solely to watch the slaughter, however. He was interested in the Lugubraa, the all-devouring aliens with the razor-lined sucker mouths whom the Croke had foolishly unleashed upon their own planets. The Lugubraa were fond of bloodsport and respectful of strength, so Kyrel Ren 's participation in the arena was a clever move in gaining their allegiance, but it might not be enough on its own. The Brotherhood would have to either impress or subdue the Lugubraa Elders, or the aliens would never join their ranks.

Most Lugubraa were capable of little more than low cunning, able to follow orders and wield weapons but lacking the capacity for tactics or higher thought. That was because most Lugubraa, given their violent way of life, did not live to reach the age of fifty, when their second stage of brain development began. Those who did became Elders, developing sophisticated minds that allowed them mastery of tactics, logistics, negotiation, and all the other essentials of leading an effective army. Elders were generals, governors, and diplomats all rolled into one.

That made them the key to the success or failure of this alliance, for younger Lugubraa could not be reasoned with.

Tu'teggacha watched the Elders seated at the upper dais of the arena, each of the wormlike creatures sitting eerily still. Lugubraa did not have eyes; they perceived the world through heat signatures and echolocation, making them terrifying enemies to face in the dark... and meaning that they had no need to turn their heads to watch the proceedings. Gently the Ebruchi probed their minds, trying to get used to their strange patterns of thought. If the arena duel was not enough to sway them, then he might be called upon to look inside them and intervene.

But first, he would watch the greatest of the Ren unleashed.

 

[Rebirth]

Crakull, City of Alkonost
​

Every few seconds, one of the monitors blared a fresh red alert. Shell Conjurer Vortai and her staff looked from one to another, doing their best to keep up with each new threat and damage report. There had been practically no warning of the attack; that was what had truly thrown them. Most invading powers would have spent at least a little time arranging their fleet and landing forces at the system's edge, trying to minimize their casualties when assaulting the planet through a tactical approach. But not the Brotherhood. They didn't seem bothered by losses.

They only seemed to want blood, and they did not care if that blood flowed from their own as well.

Still, in their haste, they had neglected other invasion tactics in a way that might benefit Crakull's defenders. They had not blocked communications, and distress calls from all over the planet were bouncing around the Croke Reach. The defense fleets of half a dozen other worlds would soon arrive to bolster the capital's defenses, and the space battle that would ensue would mercifully end the orbital bombardment. They just had to survive until reinforcements arrived; figuring out how was the Shell Conjurer's duty.

​

Little did she know that the Maw wanted all of the Croke forces to arrive... to crush them in one swift stroke.

"Deploy the cloaked defenses," Vortai ordered. They had to keep the marauders from getting any further into the city. All around her, Croke Force-sorcerers concentrated their illusory powers. All along the outskirts of the city, and studding every government and military building, dozens and dozens of auto-turrets were deployed to rip into the invaders. But the Croke powers hid the turrets, concealing where they were firing from, even concealing the blaster bolts themselves as they flew toward the slave-soldiers. Men fell dead of invisible wounds.

Meanwhile, other Force-wielders conjured fake defenses, phantom auto-turrets and turbolasers that appeared to be firing at the attackers. The oncoming horde tried to fire at these guns, assuming that was where the laserfire was hitting them from... but their weapons passed harmlessly through the illusions, even as the hidden defenses continued to tear through them. Finally, an energy shield sprang up over Alkonost, holding back the orbital bombardment... at least for now.

This was the Croke capital, and they would not let it fall without a brutal fight.

Maestus | Gren Blidh | Darth Solipsis | Zachariel Steelblood​

​

 

[The Mongrel]

Objective: 1 (Smash Their Illusions)
Location: Crakull, approaching Alkonost
Tags: Gren Blidh , Zachariel Steelblood , Maestus , Darth Solipsis

At first, the advance seemed to be going well. Just like at Black Spire and Niima, the horde rushed toward their target, heedless of losses, ready to kill and burn and give as good as they got. But it quickly became apparent that not everything was the same. A marauder next to the Mongrel suddenly collapsed mid-strike, a clean hole punched through his forehead; The Mongrel hadn't even seen the blaster bolt that had killed him. Sensing the terrible danger they must be rushing into, he threw himself behind a massive rock... just in time.

The remainder of the twenty men he'd been running with twitched and fell, blackened blaster scars appearing all over their bodies. The damage was eerie to watch; it was silent and seemed to come from nowhere, as though a legion of ghosts were striking them with incorporeal blades of flame. But The Mongrel, though superstitious after all that he'd seen the Ren and the Jedi accomplish, knew that it could not be so. This was some kind of Croke trick, part of their mastery of illusion. They could not kill with their magic, but they could hide their weapons.

His past, the time before he had become The Mongrel, was at best a hazy blur to him... but he remembered the skills he had developed then, on that distant and now-ravaged colony world. He had been a skilled technician, understanding wiring and the flow of energy. He could repair it, he could interrupt it, and he could trace it. Drawing forth a corroded sensor from his satchel, he held it up to the darkened sky, scanning from behind the rock. There. The turrets cutting down his allies might be hidden from sight, but they could not hide from technology.

Abruptly The Mongrel ducked back into cover as dozens of huge turrets suddenly appeared along the city's walls. These were not invisible; they were loud and bright, scouring the landscape with laserfire... and that made him suspicious. He turned to the scanner again, and surely enough, these defenses had no energy signatures. The Croke must be using them to cover up where their true defenses were, trying to draw the Brotherhood's fire. It was a clever plan; most of the marauders would not be able to see through it.

But The Mongrel had figured them out. He rushed up beside Gren Blidh , his fellow marauder, and called out urgently to him. "The turbolasers are false, tricks of Croke magic! We must find their generators and destroy them, before our tribes are shattered!" Hopefully the other marauder would be able to help him; he looked competent and clever. And hopefully the message would spread, or the Warlords would discover the deception on their own. Only by shutting down the Croke's potent defenses could they enter and break apart Alkonost... and only then would this world fall.

 

[Eldervine]

All it takes..

Is a single seed.​

Everything had been black for so long. No light. No earth. No freedom to grow. These beings of flesh were so cruel to deny these. It was all they longed for. Just a single seed, locked away as a trophy. Forgotten. What it was didn't matter. It was expensive. But the warning remained. Never plant it. But then death came. And with it, fear. Desperation.

The warmth of the soil, the feeling of life. The light of the sun. The Eldervine was a patient being, willing to wait for it's chance to regrow and spread once again. And now it's wait had paid off. The amorphous form erupted from the ground only a couple hours after it had been planted. The Croke so desperate to survive was devoured and drained the moment the seed was buried. All life around it had been drained in those few hours, feeding the carnivorous plant so it might grow.

Now it was free.

 

[Koleric]

Another battle for the cause of the Maw, given the option Koleric would sacrifice his mind and body for the mass that was the Brotherhood. Each battle sharpened his skills, shaping him into the blade he thrived to be for the Avatars. This would be different from the last few battles, instead of raiding for supplies and slaves they would take this as their territory to spread their influence and teachings.

Like the ships of his brethren his came filled to the brim with warriors, taking on fire from planetary defense systems most would not be able to get off planet again until repair, but it did no matter for they did not intend to leave. Dodging and weaving debris they crashed upon the lands of the Croke, spilling out of their ships some coward before monsters and other's mowed down from turret fire.

Koleric could feel them, barefoot, he could feel them squirming upon the earth, realizing the monster's shown were not their true form he threw great waves of flame forward roasting them inside their shells, this did not last long for now he was known as a threat, knowing this he rushed behind whatever debris was closest barely dodging the turret fire aimed at his chest. Looking around he could see The Mongrel had a similar idea and that he was cooking up a plan the only thing is he could not hear what it was, his only choice was to close the distance between them so he rushed using the wind to increase his speed.​

 

[TK-818]

The blackened transport hung low, screaming across the battlefield as explosions rocked the sky. Smoke and debris filled the air, swiftly parting away as the vessel pierced the veil from behind the curtain. There was no hesitation from the pilot, nor from the crew inside who readied their weapons and reached out toward the 'Shadow'.

The Knights of Ren readied themselves for war for battle against creatures who misuse the Shadow for gains they could not earn themselves. Mollusks, vermin deserving only the boot from which the Knights of Ren would firmly deliver. A small holovid recording of Kyrel Ren played in the center of the dark vessel, the Master of Ren offworld with a conquest of his own in order to secure the Brotherhood's victory over the Croke Reach.

Sinh nodded silently upon hearing the words of his master, flanked to his right sat his long time ally and warrior-kin Inferious . The pilot screamed out to the Knights as lasers pierced the cockpit violently from forces unseen. Illusions, treachery of the mind. Such infantile displays of the Dark Side, Sinh was eager to correct them on proper use and it's true nature.

The vessel skipped across the ground rapidly, tumbling between lose building on the outskirts where many warriors had already pierced the city while the defenses heightened. They had to destroy the generator to go further, they had to being the shields down to punish these mollusks. Smoke rushed out from the crash site, the doors outward blew open from an invisible force, sending it soaring through the sky.

Stepping out Sinh pressed his weapon against the ground and stared off at the battlefield, he could see the rushing image of The Mongrel and Gren Blidh . It was time.

 

[Alars Keto]

He came among others representing the wrath of the Warlord Katachi Ren upon the Croke and their ilk. Fresh from impartial recovery, the lieutenant bore fresh wounds from battle and a strange mechanism on his spinal cord. He held his repaired Atrisian warlord high into the air and roared as he and his men charged not far from the mighty Zachariel Steelblood fresh from the kill. The mighty Warlord led the charge forward.

Bolts danced amidst their feet and past their bodies, some struck hard and fast. Most glanced by without worry, it wasn't until he saw men begin to drop like flies that he gave pause. Making for quick cover he bounced out of view and listened as a voice pierced the air.

"The turbolasers are false, tricks of Croke magic! We must find their generators and destroy them, before our tribes are shattered!"

Kryll looked on at The Mongrel as he led them forward, it was not too long ago he had been a mere slave beneath their boot now here he was, a member of the Chosen and a savage warrior at that. He nodded in approval, he projected strength and this was something to respect.

He moved toward the location of the Mongrel with an idea, a plan to break their ranks and enter before he fell. Yes he fell, the ground opened up and swallowed by the earth as it peeled away into an abandoned underground. Rubble and debris rained over him, a savage cough followed as he struggled to get up.

Where was he? What was this place? His eyes moved around the darkness as he picked himself up, the sight of a dead mollusk not far from him capturing his eye. Kryll tilted his head in confusion before the thing was dragged away, his eyes wide open in shock he stepped back with his blade drawn. That's when he saw it, he saw Eldervine .

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Objective 3: Rescue some lost jeddies
W: Mikhail Grayson , Darth Solipsis , Romi Jade , Aaran Tafo , Dagon Kaze

He had not the soldiers nor the fleets required to save the Croaks. They were not a race he was particularly fond of: changelings were a generally dishonest sort, and while the Croak weren't exactly shapeshifters they certainly operated like them. That being said, a Jedi was to defend all life, whether they were particularly fond of it or not.

The only reason he'd actually learned of what was going on was his lingering access to older NJO channels. A handful of Jedi had been captured whilst trying to contest the Hidden Maw's attempts at genocide. Cedric would have expected a broader military response, but he suspected the war with the Sith Empire had the GA's military too tied down. The reason for their absence wasn't particularly relevant anyway. The alliance wasn't here, and they likely weren't going to be. He'd have to work with what was available.

He relayed a message to Ryv the moment his ship came out of hyperspace. It contained an image taken of the massive Hidden Maw fleet arrayed near the planet, and a brief explanation on Cedric's intention to rescue the captured Jedi and save what he could. That was, of course, assuming those Jedi were even here.

It didn't take long for the fleet to take notice of his shuttle. Never the best pilot, Cedric broke the ship straight down toward the planet below. A turbolaser bolt sheared through the vessel's meager shields, and a second tore a hole straight through the fuel tank. It was a relative miracle the ship didn't explode outright, but it was still plummeting toward the ground at terminal velocity.

The exile reached out into the depths of the empyrean, and willed invisible tendrils of telekinetic energy to envelop the nose of the ship. The dive was slowed somewhat, though Cedric knew of no Jedi in existence that could bring the hunk of metal to a complete halt. "Nevue!" Cedric snapped for Mikhail Grayson around the same time as the ship's engines separated clear of the vessel. "Get the escape pod online." He instructed as calmly as he could manage while trying to metaphysically lift several tons of durasteel. "Quickly! Can't hold it - can only slow it down."

The pod had always taken longer to power than Cedric had cared for. Hopefully it wouldn't be the death of him.

 

[Aaran Tafo]

He really needed to start investing in lock picking.

Maybe Zaavik would be willing to show him a few tricks? It was only natural that he develops an interest in the skill with how often he found himself captured by enemy forces. Granted, both of those recent circumstances were unusual ones. The first being a result of his attempt to save the life of a Sith. The other a willing surrender to gather information.

And he was successful at that part. From the images plucked from the weak-willed fanatics. Much was learned of the Maw. Their beliefs, their structure, a reasonable guess at size of the forces they had at their command. All it cost him was a few days of torture.

Pain was temporary thankfully. And he managed to blunt the worst of it. Between the subtle digs at turning Maestus against Zachariel Steelblood He managed to spare himself the hands of a seasoned practitioner and was left to the care of an amateur who had little experience with how to torture a Jedi.

It was still hardly a fun experience. But compared to his time on Ziost, it was a vacation.

But now it seemed the Maw had other plans for him. Dragging him from the chamber that Maestus had set him up in for her own amusement. He was slapped in chains and roughly escorted to the central chamber. And at the beckoning of the Dark Prophet, he was shoved forward into the center of the room along with his fellow Jedi. Hungry gazes of the dark priests affixed on him.

But despite his wounds, despite his fatigue. He stood tall. Defiant even in the face of such evil. A grin that could only be born from the audacity of youth plastered on his faith.

"Am I finally getting the burger I ordered?" He called out to the assembled priests. "It’s been like, four hours now. What kind of shoddy establishment are you running here?"

Madness? Sheer arrogance? Or perhaps it was intentional? A mocking derision to draw the majority of the ire towards himself. To buy time to enact some daring, reckless and destructive escape plan.

Or maybe he was an idiot and legitimately thought he was in a restaurant. It was hard to tell.

Rebirth Cedric Grayson Romi Jade

 

[Eldervine]

The more the Eldervine consumed, the larger the mass of vines and bark grew. A maw of jagged bark consumed everything. There were no bones left. Nothing to even suggest there was once a living being before it became part of the Drengir. It's form was far more like a serpent, snaking through the underground that Alars Keto had fallen into. The jagged maw opened, ready to feast on another to grow it's beautiful bulk.

And it paused.

"You are different. You do not belong to this world." The voice that came from it was deep, sounding more like the creaking of old trees in a vast forest. The maw closed as it stayed hovered above the human. "Tainted by metal. Poisoned. You've brought death to this world." The amorphous body that the Drengir had shifted to something more.. Humanoid. Glowing bulbs acted as eyes. These flesh creatures always felt more comfortable speaking to something similar in appearance.

"I will bring death to all worlds. You need only to take me from this place."

 

[Alars Keto]

Kryll could hear the bloodthirsty battle cry of Zachariel Steelblood rage in the distance, the warband was moving forward, leaving him with this.. thing. There wasn't many things that bothered the sadistic psychopath, yet luck had it that a giant carnivorous plant monster really took the cake. His eyes opened wide, his hand steadily gripping his sword ready to strike down the monstrous being that had swallowed one of the Croke heretics whole.

He had to admit he felt fear, such a rush he felt as adrenaline was released and his eyes began to narrow. Fight or flight, he was a fighter even terrified he would not flee under threat of being devoured. Sweat beads rolled down his face and his facade of readiness that hid his true fear peeled away when the Drengir spoke.

"You are different. You do not belong to this world."

He was in shock, the fetching thing spoke? By the Maw, what kind of malevolent force could spawn such a horror. "I am a warrior of the Brotherhood."

"Tainted by metal. Poisoned. You've brought death to this world."

"Yes. We come to purge this world of life and take what remains."

"I will bring death to all worlds. You need only to take me from this place."

Kryll was taken aback, his mind raced with possibilities. The Heathen Priests would claim such a creature was of the Hidden Maw's design, a valuable ally in the great purge to come. He saw this as a chance for greater recognition, and a chance to bring a new weapon on board for the Brotherhood. Little did he know of what cost it would be for the future.

"Our leaders. They would feed you, we want all life to die. Help us and we'll help you mighty spawn of the Hidden Maw!"


Eldervine