Private Son of the Sun

[Irveric Tavlar]

Sargon

War was costly. Even so - fighting men and women were worth far more in credits. As such -- the exchange of IGBC standard in place of the legendary Golden Company of Thrysus was an easy trade. Credits could always be made and debts racked up in as every one of the financial backers to the newly declared New Imperial Order fully expected them to be. After all each passing day of grueling battle meant the manufacturing apparatuses of war would only churn faster and its profiteers grow far more lavish from the result.

The exploits of the Supreme Sun Guardian were a curious blend of myth and verifiable fact among the tale tellers of the Galaxy. Tavlar had but a glancing 'interaction' with the mercenary company in the failed overreaching assault into the Silver Jedi space for the planet of Kintan. There the Major General might've had a chance to fight at the Thrysian's side be they both in the commander's seat of their respective armored formations had Tavlar's own 12th Armored Assault not been bloodied and bashed at the hands of a miraculous Jedi ambush led by the acting Grandmaster Wyatt Morga and Lanik Dawnstar - the very Jedi who left Irveric to his death in the trench with a limb severed and body drawn to its breaking point well in the midst of battle.

Largely unaware and wholly uncaring of the Company's standing with the Sith Empire - the Sovereign Imperator wouldn't stand to waste the opportunity in ripping another asset from his enemy only to add it to his own rebel host. Irveric and Khonsu were men both brewed in the cauldron of war and strife. On these grounds they might see eye to eye in a way dissimilar to he might with the Emperor Carnifex -- a Dark Lord of The Sith whose station made him a being of nonexistent relate-ability to any outside of the Sith Order proper.

Emerging from the blue lit star streaks of hyperspace - a lone Vandal emerged. Though its design principles outwardly reflected an admiration of Mandalorian design - it was a vessel utilized only in the Apostate revolt itself, a clear enough indicator to match the transmission sent prior to this excursion to notify the Supreme Sun Guardian of the New Imperial ambitions to buyout his allegiances with the Sith Empire. Not as if the numbers Tavlar had to spare in such a foolish offensive could've ever maintained an attack against the Citadel the Sun Guard had erected in this system.

Hailing the station to receive the Imperials the Tempest disembarked from the magnetic docking clamp of the corvette to come aboard the hangar bay -- the Sovereign Imperator eventually emerging without any retinue donning the uniform of his station, the betaplast chestplate prominently displaying his station but otherwise mundane in its red trimming and piping coordinating with the Stormtrooper Corps to which Irveric had gone about organizing personally. Inspite of the otherwise off-duty garb his gaze was unable to shrug off the marks of conflict with several prominent blade and shrapnel scars marring the skin alongside the singes and burns of blaster bolts centered around his cybernetic eye concealed beneath an eyepatch.

A faint deception, but one none the less. Though there was little in concealing the less than subtle cybernetic replacement for his left arm. As was the Sith Imperial doctrine for handling such disfiguring wounds -- not to cover up but fully expose the gross mechanics at work as a means of intimidating subordinates and enemies alike.

Following in tow with the Sun Guard escort -- he sought to meet the Supreme Sun Guardian directly.

---

LT-137

 

[LT-137]

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Citadel-Class Battlestation - “Maliakos.”
Angran Belt, The Thyrsian Frontier.​

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He could feel it. The winds of change blew across the unseen veil that swathed the Galaxy, signalling the emergence of a new era. While such gales weren’t visible by any quantifiable manner, there were signs that only the most observant could perceive. It was subtle at first. Such as the Sith Empire’s defeat at Kintan. That event rippled through time and space, giving birth to a spark that would soon engulf the entirety of the cosmos once again in the ever-consuming tides of War.

Likely riding the euphoric high of their Victory, the Silver Jedi and the various Systems that lay beneath their protective shroud began to reorganize, and redouble their efforts to defend their borders against Sith aggression. The Confederacy, on the other hand, drew their attention inwards, believing themselves to be just in their isolation. However, their actions only proved how selfish and corrupt their institution had become. With their foundations rotting beneath their arrogance and ignorance, it was only a matter of time before their Empire crumbled - and was subsequently mocked by the ashes of history.

Some would even dare say a similar fate awaited the seemingly indomitable Empire of the Sith. For, on the surface, they sought to perpetuate the status quo, dipping their toes into the twinned realms of misguided direction and stagnancy. However, as the Thyrsian Warlord’s attention was forced towards the boundaries of his Homeworld’s domain, there was little care given to the truth behind whatever whispers came his way.

The Compact had returned. In suckling upon the teat of the Silver Jedi - the Echani Command found themselves under new leadership and reorganized into the most-hated Compact. Khonsu believed them to be destroyed after the Sun Guard liberated Thyrsus in a brutal Crusade. No quarter was given, and none escaped. At least, that the Warlord or his subordinates knew of. So, with the absence of the truth - assumptions were made to fill in the cognitive gaps. It seemed that the Compact’s influence stretched beyond their newly-liberated world - infecting other Planetary Systems within the Six Sisters. The Reclaimer supposedly lopped off the head of the Viper, but the venomous Snake turned out to be nothing more than a Cosmic Hydra.

“One head was cloven in twain,” Khonsu whispered, as he drew a silvered goblet towards his lips. “But Two more have taken its place.”

His actions in response to such revelations were wholly justified - at least in the eyes of the High Council. They wanted to approach the situation with extreme amounts of caution, as the Clans believed their Freedom and Independence was once again in jeopardy. It was by their design that they turned their back on the Silver Jedi - and rightfully so. Their requests and pleas for intervention were wholly ignored. Who cared about an enslaved, and supposed subspecies of Echani within the Six Sisters - when much greater threats loomed beyond the horizon?

In many respects, he couldn’t blame them. They had more than just a single world to steward, and dozens of Systems believed their problems were more deserving of their attention - over others. However, the Warlord openly condemned the Silver Jedi for their lofty ignorance, and unwillingness to see the festering rot that was spreading through their foundations.

As his mind began to follow the errant train of thought, the fibre-active bundles that comprised Khonsu’s bodyglove activated - reflexively crushing the silvered Goblet within his grasp. The Hippocras within the ornate cup sprayed outwards, staining his coverings with the subtle hue of bleeding wine. He hissed, before letting go of the crumbled possession, and began tearing off the coverings that adorned his suit. A miniature droid rolled into the chamber and began collecting the newly discarded refuse, and swiftly departed thereafter - not wanting to disturb it’s Master any further.

However, that Droid wasn’t alone. Another arrived just as the miniature Droid vanished out of sight. This one not only came with a set of freshly laundered and traditional Thyrsian coverings but carried word of a new arrival as well.

“Very well,” Khonsu replied, with a heavy sigh lingering at the edge of his projected voice. “Show the man in.”

When the proffered articles of clothing were removed from its clutches, the Droid departed - flanked by a pair of Sun Guard warriors who fell in behind its gilded plastron. As the small entourage sought out their new Guest, Khonsu busied himself with replacing the liquor-stained coverings. Whilst he dressed, the Warlord’s mind turned towards his new Guest. They had a glancing interaction if one could call it that, upon the surface of Kintan - during the Sith Empire’s ill-fated advance into Silver Jedi-held territory. He stood at the same table, pouring over tactical details, before inevitably parting ways as the ground assault began. From there, the Thyrsian Warlord paid little heed to the man’s exploits and laurels - as the Sun Guard found themselves busy elsewhere. However, it was only when this figure broke away from the dogmatic ideologies of the Sith Regime that Khonsu became interested in that man’s endeavours.

He was the first in living memory to bring the burgeoning and seemingly unstoppable Sith-Imperial Warmachine to a grinding halt. Not only that, but this Warrior took a significant portion of Troops and War Material with him, only to declare war on his former Master soon after establishing their New Imperial Order. It was bold, and as his long-time employer was suddenly besieged by those they called brothers, there was a possibility to earn an incredible sum of credits in service to One Imperial power, or the other. Whatever the future held, and regardless of the Side that emerged Victorious in the end, the Golden Company - and what they would eventually evolve into - stood to become even wealthier than ever.

As he finished fastening the Thyrsian coverings, the Warlord began pouring two measures of Hippocras into Silvered Chalices. When the last Goblet was filled, the door klaxon chimed, and Khonsu bid his Guests enter. He didn’t care if the man arrived with others, nor an entourage of bodyguards to safeguard his person. The more, the merrier, the Warlord thought - allowing a welcoming smile to peel across his lips. He only hoped that they didn’t request refreshments, as it was doubtful that there was enough readily available within the chamber. They did only plan for one, after all.

When his Guest entered, Khonsu’s darkened eyes glittered with interest.​

“Please,” he said with a near-serpentine smile. “Take a seat and help yourself to bread and salt.”​

| Irveric Tavlar |​

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

And thus he obliged. He was well within the clutches of the Thyrsian warlord and would do well by their customs. Of all the painstaking analysis he'd done of his enemies. Be it the Jedi and the Mandalorians all the while feeding from the knowledge that came residually while serving alongside and at the behest of the Sith, the Sunguard and by extension the Thyrsians were an enigma to him. They'd done good in keeping it that way, emerging from their home only to deal death on the field before slinking back into the shadows 'neath the Hierarchy's demesne again. He might've gotten a better appraisal of their ability on the field had he not been intercepted and brought to near death by Lanik Dawnstar in the besieging trench lines.

Even so, his subordinate in Konrad Bolter among the armored columns gave a glowing review of their conduct in combat, one of few remotely positive lines in a report which outlined a disappointing and bitter defeat. But if it bared any fruits, it was lessons learned. Likely, lessons learned between the two men facing one another now. If they walked away with anything from the battered ruined city blocks of New Kalandra it was that the Sith are no longer invincible...that the 'gods' they postured themselves to be bleed red all the same.

"Thank you. I will admit I was not expecting a true and honest receiving when I'd first reached out to you." Irveric said, after all he'd survived his service in the Sith Empire evading any glancing interaction with the highest echelon of the Empire's command and ruling structure save for the Anzati warmaster in Kor Vexen. He wouldn't have been all too surprised if he was slighted all the same by the Supreme Sun Guardian. Never the less, despite the warped and distorted gaze, grin and body Amon sported, he regarded Irveric as his equal. Not as if Irveric had any room to stand on as he occupied a form of synthetic muscle strewn separate from the force around them all the while a gruesome jagged beskar horn protruded from his skull.

"Regardless, I can only assume you know the nature of my arrival here. My people are at war. As it is now...you would likely be recruited as my enemy by Kaine Zambrano, the Sith. You're a mercenary, I can't hold you in any different light for siding with them. Tis the nature of the trade and of war all its own. I want the Golden Company alongside my host in the New Imperial Order in this coming war. Whatever the price you ask, I'll pay it. This is an existential conflict, one I can't afford to leave any options forth for the tyrant Zambrano. There is no result in a defeat where quarter is given in the slightest. Whatever the price is...I'm sure the Sith will match it...but I don't intend on offering cold credits for your services. I can do something by you that the Sith can not, if you'd entertain me." Irveric stated outright, bluntly. His tone and the inflection upon it only spelled hard truths and cold candidness. He wouldn't dare lie to him or anyone else for that matter. The gravity of what he was tangling with was far too great to bear a false visage.

LT-137