Junction Stratagem - Consortium/Maw Junction [Maw Fhost] [HSC Mulatan]

[Iermin the Hutt]

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A SECOND GREAT HYPERSPACE WAR STORY

STRATAGEM




It is a time for opportunity for the major powers of the galaxy. While the SECOND GREAT HYPERSPACE WAR takes the center stage and increasing tensions between them grow ever larger. The Hutt Space Consortium has been expanding its underworld talons deep into former BRYN'ADUL TERRITORY with operation after operation to reclaim HUTT SPACE as it's rightful domain. However the MANDALORIAN ENCLAVE poses a considerable threat to the SYNDICATE'S POWERBASE through the region and the need for allies to combat them militarily has come to the forefront.

While the Silver Jedi Concord and the Empire continues to decline as a potential ally against the Mandalorians, the Consortium's shifts perspectives to the Brotherhood of the Maw who recently engaged in a deadly gamble over Metellos with the Galactic Alliance. The decline of the Brotherhood could spell disaster for the CRIMINAL EMPIRE in the west as Law Enforcement and Intelligence Agencies among the various galactic powers have started to tighten their grip over their prospective underworlds now that they are not distracted by warfare.

The Consortium sends a considerable delegation to the Maw World of GH-531 to hash out an agreement with the Mawite Warlords. Looking to increase the threat of the Brotherhood so that the Galactic Alliance and other galactic powers are distracted once more and the Consortium is granted free reign over the underworld.

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OBJECTIVE I - CONGREGATION
Things are on the backfoot for the Mawite Tribes in their ever present mission to wipe clean the galaxy and bring about rebirth. A desperate gamble over Metellos against the Galactic Alliance has started to shake confidence in the war effort for the Brotherhood. Even as the Hutt Space Consortium's Delegation arrives on GH-531, the warlords will have to put aside their differences and present a united front against the ever skilled manipulators and schemers that make up the CRIMINAL WEST.

OBJECTIVE II - UPRISING

With much of the Mawite Leadership distracted with the upcoming submit with the Consortium. A Bloodsworn Warrior calling himself Taskmaster Kl'lugarth has lost confidence in the Brotherhood of the Maw after Metellos and has taken up arms against it with a slave army. The Taskmaster has transformed a vital communication's station on the world into a formidable fortress. Both Consortium and Mawite Forces have arrived in full force to tear down the walls of the fortress and slay the traitor Bloodsworn before the fire of rebellion spreads across Maw Territory.


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[Warmaster Nyâsh]

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He stood and waited. It was not His theatre, not yet at least and He was just one of many aspiring warlords who was trying to carve out a piece of the cake the brotherhood offered. He would devour it whole at every given opportunity and anyone trying to take it from Him, but today they were here to present ... union. An abominable idea of the leadership, underworld, overworld, whateverworld - it deserved to be freed of cancerous order and politics.

Nyâsh frowned below His helmet, observing. He would figure out who was who and who could be a potential step towards the final goal. These criminal red light slugs for sure not, they best fed His Tectâri.

Standing in heavy armor, clad in dark plate from head to toe, it was anyones guess what kind of species or face He had. His concession to diplomacy was not to bring His maul, but just be content with the sword on His back. From a distance one would have assumed that He was a marvellously scultured statue, but one who would touch back when you wanted to make sure if it is alive or not.

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[Xârdrael the First]

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The eyes burned like molten steel, his breath was going so slow that one would barely recognise he was alive at all. He had come with his Warmaster on The Traveller, but where the master would suffer through streams of meaningless words and empty promises, Xârdrael would have the pleasure of real pain, real blood and meaningful death. Traitors were such a good sport, always.

Along with a small warband of Marskha warriors, he had landed on GH-531 to assist in the bringing down of the 'taskmaster'. His tasks wouldn´t be uttered for much longer, that much was clear. Pathetic meatbag. A slave army? Come on. It was still sport but more one of the necessary kind than of the exciting kind.

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The first notions of resistance were barely recogniseable as such. They had a beautiful advantage over his warband from a distance and they decided to engage in melee. Maybe making enough of an example and these slaves would understand that they could serve the Fell and the Maw better when being properly enslaved again and achieving a purpose than just throwing themselves into the Hands blade.

He had lost three warriors to their overwhelming numbers so far, but that was to be expected, they would be feasted on later to honor their deaths. Now it was time to give the slaves an impression of that they should fear more what is ahead than what is behind . . . .

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[Iermin the Hutt]

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Warmaster Nyâsh​

It was not often that one was allow free reign to cross into the Brotherhood of the Maw's territory at least not while the previous Dark Voice of the Maw was still alive. From what intelligence could be gathered from second hand sources and information brokers working within the Consortium and the Coruscanti Underworld the Maw was starting to lose ground and that didn't benefit the Consortium in the least. The Galactic Alliance had been refocusing its efforts within the Underworld with Law Enforcement cracking down on criminal activity across the board.

Ozzmo of Clan Gorensla had come here as part of the Consortium Delegation to figure out a plan with the Maw's Leadership although it would appear to be ripe with infighting only really united when on campaigns and raids across the galaxy mostly recently against the Mandalorian Enclave which posed a considerable threat with their "NO CRIME" agenda and kidnapping of Lord Gorba of Bareesh, the Public Figurehead of the Consortium and theoretically the most powerful hutt in existence at the moment.

Slithering inside the meeting hall on GH-531 accompanied by the elite mercenary order known as Order of the Silver Church which would provide him protection if the negotiations went south. They were equal to any one single maw unit and would provide quite a challenge. His obese frame made him slow but also had an air of authority around him as he spotted the large warrior Warmaster Nyâsh hanging around and presumed him to be an important warlord.

He would wait for the rest of the maw delegation before starting.

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[Glædwine Jendri]

STRATAGEM​

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Spoiler: Equipment

Heavy Mandalorian Armor​	Implant Armor​
Beskad​	Foldable Munit'kad Halberd​
Talon Vibrodagger​	Brass Knuckles​
MV-18 "Force" Class Vambraces​	Personal Combat Shield​
Mandalorian Assault Rifle​	Twin DE-10 Blaster Pistol​
Heavy Repeating Blaster Cannon​	Jetpack​

While the Consortium's Delegation was busy speaking it out with the Mawite Leadership, The Mandalorian Traitor's Blood known as Glædwine Jendri was preoccupied at the moment with a slave uprising occuring on the world. From the briefing on the shuttle, a Bloodsworn Warrior had taken up arms against the Brotherhood and that was not going to be allowed if the Consortium had anything to say about it. Scanning the battlefield down below as a rather large unit underneath Xârdrael the First was currently engaging in a melee fight with the First Vanguard of the Taskmaster's Slave Army. Although it was far from going poorly as the slaves were barely trained in combat and were simply etched on by their handlers.

Activating his jetpack as the flames boosted him into the air, he gave the signal to the Warriors of Abonshee as they charged down the cliff side into the awaiting reserve force of the Slave Army. A great clash occurred as the slaves and anointed people engaged in harsh malee. It would appear they were far more organized than he first gave them credit for as they worked together to bring down the superior fighters of the anointed people.

Moving himself down as his heavy repeating cannon blasted down at the slaves below.

 

[Marlon Sularen]

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S T R A T A G E M

FINAL DAWN
GH-531, UNKNOWN REGIONS

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The Hutt Space Consortium, the galaxy's largest and most powerful association of criminal organizations which had established a strong presence within the Criminal Underworld across the galaxy. Marlon Sularen, High Regent of the Final Dawn and the Mawite Warlord of O'reen had taken a great interest of the Hutt Space Consortium since it's formation having since begun establishing ties within the Criminal Underworlds as early as shortly after the Confederacy first collapsed, having recently struck a vital partnership with Ozzmo the Hutt which would allow Sularen to gain key allies that could help him expand his influence across the former territories of the Confederacy and keep the Imperial Federation and Rimward Trade League in check in spite of Kyrel Ren's opposition.

As such, the High Regent had decided to partake in the summit between the various Warlords of the Maw which included himself, and the leaders of the Hutt Space Consortium, despite the uprising occurring elsewhere. Normally the High Regent would dive in head first into the combat, but then again he had bigger priorities then putting down some slave uprisings, plus it wasn't like doing so would be new to him, the Final Dawn had experienced such types of unrest before on their Mining world of lol and even on O'reen itself shortly after establishing themselves there due to the local populations tendencies to revolt against their rulers.

Thus, Marlon Sularen would soon find himself arriving within the meeting hall where members from both delegations were set to met, wearing his usual Crimson Neo-Imperial Uniform and escorted by a contingent of Elite Raptor Commandos, cybernetically-enhanced Supersoldiers of the Final Dawn. Upon arriving within the meeting hall, Sularen noticed Ozzmo the Hutt nearby with his own contingent of mercenaries serving as his protection detail along with another individual, a certain Warmaster Nyâsh, a newcomer within the Maw who supposedly used to be apart of the Bryn'adûl. Other then both Ozzmo and Nyâsh, no other prominent individuals were present and as such, Sularen would move forth to wait for the rest of the Mawite Warlords, and HSC Leaders to arrive.

The High Regent was looking forward to this meeting already thinking of the many opportunities this meeting could generate, and how it could advance his plans way faster then he could have ever imagined, and unlike the rest of the Warlords he heled an advantage over them in terms of Underworld connections which only made this better. Hopefully individuals like Kyrel Ren would not screw things over due to their personal opinions just like at Eriadu, as this meeting was key to further getting closer to his ultimate objective of emerging as a dominant force within the Maw itself.

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Tags | Warmaster Nyâsh | Ozzmo the Hutt | OPEN​

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[Kyrel Ren]

The Hutts. Kyrel couldn't say that he was particularly fond of the money grubbing slugs, and had only recently heard that they started to reassert themselves as a force to be reckoned with. Following the gains and losses at the Battle of Metellos Kyrel was faced with yet more challenges. Every day the Maw starts to tear itself from within, and here the Wrath was desperately trying to hold it all intact. If not only did he have to worry about the Alliance he was increasingly worried what the Eternal Empire would do following his capture of Ingrid L'lerim and had to keep a stern eye on the shady dealings of Marlon Sularen in his work in the Outer Rim for the Warmaster had feared the War could escalate into multiple fronts that would spell the end of the Brotherhood. Matters were made worse when word reached his ears that the very slaves he conscripted to serve were now in revolt against the Maw.

Still when the Hutts delegation made first contact with the Maw, Kyrel was reluctant at first but relented to the request. After all the Hutts knew what happened in the wider galaxy, and were worried that with the Maw losing the Alliance would focus and crack down on the Underworld without an existential crisis to worry about. Within the ancient citadel constructed by the First Order as a part of frontier outposts it resembled a mix of Imperial cleanliness and design versus the ugly trappings by the Maw. For Kyrel he mixed the two designs to create an intimidating aesthetic to pay homage to it's Imperial roots and it's faith in the three Avatars of the Maw.

Kyrel would take a brisk stride through the hall, and soon the door opened into the large meeting room. There was a table, and many seats for all those in attendance, and still there was an air of tension as Kyrel entered the room. The Maw's Wrath didn't have a guard, for how could any hope to stop the devourer of Panatha. His gaze traveled around the room, from the Hutt, to the chrome dome of Sularen which whom he gave a slight bloody smirk upon being reminded that the man's arm was digested for his sheer insolence and disrespect he showed to the Wrath of the Maw. His fingers started to clench, and some sadistic part of him hoped that during the meeting the man would say something stupid to warrant Kyrel to send him flying into the ceiling. For now he restrained himself as he approached the head chair. Taking a seat he would give a nod to the armored figure that had waves of darkness coming from him.

He waited for other delegates such as the Dark Voice herself Darth Mori to arrive, as well as the other Tribal leaders. His gaze met the Hutt's and he gave a nod of respect and words of welcome. "The mighty Ozzmo the Hutt... Welcome to GH-531... I take it you are adjusting comfortably to the Maw way of life?" He asked with a bloody smirk.

Warmaster Nyâsh Ozzmo the Hutt

 

[Khione]

Location: GH-531
Tags: Marlon Sularen Ozzmo the Hutt Kyrel Ren Warmaster Nyâsh

Equipment:
Piloting - Torr'Chir
Eyes of Khoine
Pulsiva flight suit
2x Cartridge Revolvers
Retractable Neural Stinger

Accompanied by 1 squadron of eight Chir'Shada Starfighters
Single Path Engine equipped light cruiser of the Emerald Nebula

Squadron quipped with a mixture of proton torpedoes, disruptor torpedoes and Witchfire Missiles

Khione had never met a Hutt before, she had heard of them, criminal masterminds from the far east whose entire being was dedicated to corruption and scheming, or so she had been told. Today Khione had been sent by her father to represent the Nebula in this gathering of warlords, so she would finally get to meet one, she had her mind set on meeting someone else though.

She had scrubbed some of the grime off of her pulvisa suit before coming but Khione was who she was, she waant going to polish herself up for anyone. The Palliduvan walked down the corridor in her heavy flight boots flanked by two of her wingmen, so used to being born in the saddle they even instinctively walked in formation.

"Dink hy is hier?" she asked, speaking the language of her people.

"Absoluut, die man gryp na mag soos 'n Jawa na skroot gryp" her wingman replied with a grin.

They arrived into the meeting chamber and Khione looked around, many faces, all in a room, ones that would be tearing each other's throats out if it weren't for the Avatars. Across the room sat the gigantic slug like hulk of Ozzmo the Hutt , they were even bigger than she had pictured, funny looking creature. Her lips curled when she saw the emblems of the man she wanted to meet. She gave her wigman a glance to follow and walked over, barely taking heed of the heavily armed men guarding their delicate package. She extended her hand to the man wearing all the right garb, she hoped Marlon Sularen would shake it back.

"I'm Khione" she began in her broken basic accent "Sularen? I am Emerald Nebula. You dont look how I picture lafhartige imperiale!" from the way the tribes discussed him, she had pictured a scrawny little man in a badly fitting paper hat, but, the man was handsome? And tall? "Your slagskepe are impressive, your vegvlieëniers.... ehh" she waved here hand in a 'so so, to not so good' gesture then grinned with a wicked smile.

 

[Rhaegeth Qezrori]

The meeting between the Brotherhood and the Consortium on GH-531 was born out of necessity more than anything. From recent intelligence reports obtained from Information Brokers. The Second Great Hyperspace War was taking a turn for the worst for the Brotherhood which directly caused the remaining galactic powers to start clamping down on their perspective underworlds. This was proving quite unprofitable to the individual syndicates that made up the Hutt Space Consortium. Not to mention the ever-present threat that the Mandalorian Enclave poses as they rally behind the "NO CRIME" agenda. The Brotherhood engaged with them recently and would be able to provide an accurate report of their weaknesses so that the Former Imperial Commodore could exploit them should conflict come to pass.

Raimond brushed his uniform as his medals jingled upon his black military coat as he moved into the meeting room between the Consortium and Maw Representatives.

"I must apologize for my late arrival, I was held up at the Alliance/Maw Border."

He said with a bow of his head before taking his seat next to Ozzmo the Hutt while looking across the aisle with weary eyes. While he was not a member of the Consortium's Council, As the Commander of the Largest Mercenary Fleet within the Organization it was only natural for him to attend when it came to matters of security and warfare.

Warmaster Nyâsh
Marlon Sularen
Khione
Kyrel Ren

 

[Vesta]

"The traitor will be dealt with, your presence will not be necessary to put him down."

She absent-mindedly shook her head as she stepped off of her transport, irritated in ways that were considerably more complicated than was capable of being explained. "Make sure it stays that way, otherwise when I'm done speaking with the Consortium I will be putting him and you down." Mori said as her right hand snaked up to pluck the earpiece from the side of her head, crushing it in the palm of her hand while she walked up the temple steps. It wasn't just the singular warlord stepping out of line, in fact she didn't give a mynock whether or not every planet in the galaxy sided with the turncoat - what frustrated her most was this incessant prattling on about territory lost or gained. The kingpins of the underworld and their black market tycoons were understandably concerned, they were actively betting on a war that lasted in order to profit, but the men and women that lined the Brotherhood's own ranks knew the finale that their Dark Voice spoke of - did they not believe that she did so in earnest?

While the Alliance and the Mandalorians believed they were fighting a war for the fate of the galaxy, the truth could not have been any further from it -- there was no war that would prevent the inevitable, and there was no territory she needed to make certain it happened. All that kept a wedge between the end of time and its new beginning was time itself, and that was something which was quickly running out for the galaxy and its defenders unless they managed to kill her first.

"Kyrel, Sularen." She said as she entered the room, addressing the two that vied constantly for power, before turning her attention to the rest of the various men and women that had shown up as representative of the Maw and the Consortium both. "..I suppose this is everyone, then?" She asked, taking her time to find a place somewhere between Marlon Sularen and Kyrel Ren . She wasn't personally familiar with anyone else in the room, not that she was entirely a sociable person, but she at least understood that Ozzmo the Hutt - being a hutt - must have been at least somewhat more important than the rest of the people from the Consortium. Warmaster Nyâsh was entirely an unknown to her, and she only vaguely recalled Khione , and she had no idea who Raimond Parron was.

 

[Warmaster Nyâsh]

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Nyâsh looked at the entering worm from within his helmet, burning eyes calculating how long one of His beasts could feed on this criminal scum. For good or worse, His view was interupted as more people entered the meeting room, coming in one after the other. Only hearing about some of them, He actually never met all but one.

The one adorned in formal military uniform, crimson of color, reeked of ambition and grandeur with his pretty escort. Probably one of the leaders of the so called Final Dawn, imperials by claim. He was followed by Kyrel Ren who gave a minor nod which Nyâsh returned, a little gesture for the large indivudal which was accompanied by the sound of clanking plates. The rest He wouldn't know. Two women and an old goat of a man. One of them seemed interesting though, she was radiating a certain power, maybe even authority.

She was it who seemed to wanting to start the meeting, so maybe His feeling wasn´t all that bad. The Claimant remained standing, doubting that any of the chairs would hold His weight plus armor and also not being too comfortable about the present people, rather remaining able to react. He crossed His arms and waited, staring at the very small confrontation of words which were yet to come.

Darth Mori | Marlon Sularen | Raimond Parron | Khione | Ozzmo the Hutt ​

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[Iermin the Hutt]

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It would seem that most of the Mawite Leadership had arrived as the Dark Voice Darth Mori and Wrath Kyrel Ren made their dominating presences known. There were others within the room which were more worthy of his attention in the form of Marlon Sularen who he had recently established quite the partnership with and was engaged in conversation with Khione ; another warlord of the maw but not quite a powerful figure within the Brotherhood based on appearances alone. Tapping his fingers on the table to await the arrival of more representatives of the Consortium. He got his answer in the form of Admiral Raimond Parron who sat next to him.

"As comfortable as I'll ever be, Lord Ren."

Ozzmo replied with a similar smirk before his attention shifted towards the Dark Voice of the Maw.

"Everyone for now, Dark Voice Mori. The Consortium Council will be joining us a bit later due to an incident on Rodia preoccupying their attention. Although we do have an Admiral from one of the many fleets operating in Hutt Space present in the form of Raimond Parron. The rather elderly looking goat next to me."

He further added with a rather dismissive gesture towards the Admiral of the 99th Rancor Fleet. The old goat was simply here to trade information on the Mandalorian Enclave in case the Consortium ever clashed with them on the battlefield. Ozzmo would begin the discussion on a rather positive note before addressing the concerns that the Consortium had regarding the Brotherhood being on the backfoot recently.

"I will open the discussion by congratulating the Dark Voice for casting down the Leader of the Enclave. Although I hear it wasn't much of a fight to begin with." He said with a slight laugh as the Enclave's Leader was a pathetic warrior. "The Consortium is rather concerned with the decline of the Brotherhood as more factions have started to ignore the threat that you pose and focus on present threats within the Underworld such as Syndicates. As you know, this would be quite unprofitable for us. So I would like to propose that resources be sent from Hutt Space to the Maw in order for your warmachine to re-energize itself for a lack of a better term." Ozzmo said with a rather inquisitive tone. He was certain that the Brotherhood would accept any resources at this point in time. But nothing is free in the galaxy and the Consortium would make certain demands in exchange.

"Of course nothing is for free, but we can work out the exact arrangement should the mawite leadership accept our generous proposal."

He left it open for them to refuse his offer should they not want to take the risk.

Warmaster Nyâsh

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[Gorba the Hutt]

Gorba, also present at the meeting with his own entourage although he entered somewhat late, let out a snort at the words of his fellow Hutt.

Hutt Space did not have a defense fleet, the Rancors were merely a rabble band of pirates who roved the region, much like the Kraken Coalition. The Consortium itself wasn’t even a government. It was a shadow organization of crime lords and… entrepreneurs who ruled with bribes and murder from behind the scenes. True, there were worlds that the Hutt Kajidics controlled outright, but those were few in number and governed by the Council of Ancients in truth - a council which did not answer to the lords of the Consortium. Most of the criminal syndicates comprising the consortium were not even Hutt, though many assumed otherwise. To the average galactic citizen, the worlds in controlled by the Consortium appeared to be mostly run by their own planetary governments - unaligned and neutral to greater nations within the galaxy such as the Concord, Alliance, and Empire.

“You dance around the issue like a politician, all pretty words,” rumbled Gorba in Huttese. “These are warriors. Speak plain and speak bold, eh?”

Turning to the delegation from the Final Dawn (and the other rabble who comprised the Maw), Gorba smiled. His one good eye stared at them with acidic yellow greed, the other stared out sightlessly-filmed over and burdened with an ugly scar.

“You have taken millions of slaves. Give us the best. The most beautiful. The ones who would not fit into your war machine. In exchange me and my associates can provide you with weapons,” Gorba owned KrupX Munitions, widely known after garnering intergalactic criticism for their innovative bomb variants which caused the worst sorts of deaths, “mercenaries eh? And money of course. Money always.”

Ozzmo the Hutt Warmaster Nyâsh Khione Kyrel Ren Marlon Sularen

 

[Zachariel Steelblood]

Objective: Kill the Traitor
Equipment: Weapons | Chosen
Tags: Xârdrael the First | Glædwine Jendri | Open

The Hutt Consortium had reached out to the Brotherhood in search of allies in their own battles. Naturally, the Brotherhood had agreed to a meeting, what better way to add more bodies and supplies to the fight against the forces of good. Truthfully, it intrigued Zachariel that they would be willing to ally with the Brotherhood, considering their well earned reputation. And yet, they were also slavers, what many would consider the worst of the worst, so it made sense as well.

Upon arriving over GH-531, the warlord had been interested to see just who wanted to join forces with them. Instead, he was promptly informed that a warrior of his own warband had turned traitor, made himself a fortress, and now stood against the Brotherhood. That a high ranking member of the Brotherhood had turned traitor made the warlords blood boil, that it was one of his warriors, that increased his rage tenfold. And in that fit of rage, Zachariel struck down the messenger who had delivered the news.

As the corpse fell, spilling blood across old ritual runes and joining the dried blood of past victims, turned to glare out the bridge's window. Snarling out orders, Zachariel's lenses flaring crimson with the anger he felt.
"Prepare for planetfall. This Kl'lugarth will pay for his sins." Turning, the warlord stalked from the bridge as his orders were executed. "And inform Darth Mori and Kyrel Ren that I will be dealing with the traitor, personally."

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Planetfall was a quick, brutal event, as all things regarding the Bloodsworn were. Various drop pods and assault ships slammed home on the soil of GH-531, prompting craters to form even as Bloodsworn marauders deployed. Before them marched the Chosen, leading their followers out. At their head, was Zachariel. His followers gave him a wide berth, hesitation evident, even when fear had been beaten out of them. As for him, he ignored his warriors entirely, simply glaring out at the fortress of this traitor, even as Consortium forces attacked the slave army.

Glaring at the walls and the slave army arrayed within, Zachariel snarled helmet lenses blazing with the crimson of his rage. Waiting a moment longer for his warriors to fully deploy, the warlord soon began marching, weapons gripped tight as he opened a comms channel. It was one directed to the traitor Taskmaster but that everyone could hear who was present.
"Hear me and listen, traitor. You will die today, and I will take your head myself. Fight all you want, it won't save you."

With another snarl, Zachariel picked up his pace, launching himself forward. Ahead of him, parts of the slave army were beginning to panic. Elsewhere, the same could be seen as well. From handlers to slaves, many were hesitating, panicking. They recognized the voice, knew who and what it was. For many, he was their former master. Many had been slaves of the Bloodsworn, or loyal followers of the traitorous taskmaster. As such, they had once belonged to the Bloodsworn, and Zachariel was their lord and liege. He was their warlord and not known for his mercy. That knowledge caused many to try and run, even as others set about creating order.

But to Zachariel himself, that hardly mattered. Every last traitor here would suffer and die, and the slaves would either be readded to his army, or killed. With a roar that shook the ground, he flung himself forward, using the Force to launch himself into the lines of the slaves. Behind and around him, his loyal followers joined him. They slammed into the lines of their foe with a fury born of fear, unwilling to garner the rage that Zachariel bore towards Kl'lugarth.

Said warlord cut into the slaves and their handlers with ease, blood flying and limbs breaking as he broke them apart. With a war cry, he dove further into their lines, even as he began to be coated in the life blood of those he slaughtered.
"KILL, MAIM, BURN! FOR THE AVATARS!"

 

[Xârdrael the First]

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Kill. Maim. Burn. That sounds like someone knew what they were doing. Finally.

Xârdraels blade was wet from the slave blood spilled, his armor taken some shots both of blasters and arteries. It was satisfying, but the assault landing of the Maw warband was inspiring. Watching them massacre the slaves, seeing them lose faith but nevertheless being cut down, so satisfying.

With a manifesting power of the Dark side, he launched forward a spear of midnight black, a pure expression of violence and death, carving a path through the few slave-soldiers who thought to still stand and fight. Burning them with invisible heat of the Dark side, murdering their souls in an attempt to eradicate their entire existence before they even realise what would happen.

The pureblood was pushing forward, his warriors screaming in ecstasy as they followed him, their pink-red skins scarred by blades and shot, tainted in blood they wielded their cruel vibro- and boneblades with lethal efficiency, diving into the deepest of embracements of blood and murder, enjoying, loving every moment.

So did Xârdrael. His push would carve a way into the fortress, he seriously aiming to either be present when Zachariel Steelblood killed the traitor, or claiming that honor for himself.

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The small, elite warband was assaulting one of the fortress gates, the latest attack and unleashed powers of the First destroying the defenses and gate while routing or killing the enemies. While heavily outnumbered, they still managed to push on, through pure ferocity and slaughter. Slave had little to offer, stolen weapons, meagre training if at all, bad physique. They were delusional. They had been tricked.

The fortress was decent, but nothing special, breaching one gate did not mean that the way would be free, the traitor for sure had set up further lines of defense. But against the onslaught which it had to endure, it would - could not hold. Attacked from at least two sides, the warband of the Fell pressed on, more or less forming the flanking offensive for the troops of Steelblood.

Glædwine Jendri

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[Glædwine Jendri]

Stratagem​

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Spoiler: Equipment

Heavy Mandalorian Armor​	Implant Armor​
Beskad​	Foldable Munit'kad Halberd​
Talon Vibrodagger​	Brass Knuckles​
MV-18 "Force" Class Vambraces​	Personal Combat Shield​
Mandalorian Assault Rifle​	Twin DE-10 Blaster Pistol​
Heavy Repeating Blaster Cannon​	Jetpack​

It would seem that the timely arrival of Zachariel Steelblood and his Chosen Cohort pushed the First Vanguard of the Taskmaster's Army into complete and utter disarray as they began to flee. Although there was some who even with the combined might of the Consortium and Mawite Forces currently attacking them held their ground for their allegiance towards the Taskmaster could not be broken so easily. Glædwine would see first hand the immense might of the Bloodsworn and he had to respect them. Enough to challenge even an army of Mandalorians on the battlefield.

Moving through the air with his jetpack roaring behind him, He and his Warriors of Abonshee were slaughtering them right and left. Clearing a pathway towards the first gate which was currently broken by Xârdrael the First and his own legion. Touching down onto the ground to preserve his fuel and unfolding his battle axe. Swinging the long handed weapon into the face of a slave follower who foolishly charged against him. Although a mace did find it's mark upon his back but fortune that his jetpack was undamaged.

He could feel something within the air..gazing towards the fortress.

"What is that..."

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Taskmaster Kl'lugarth

The Brotherhood of the Maw had declined in power since the death of the Dark Voice Solipsis and the utter failure over Metellos was the last straw that Kl'lugarth needed to betray the Bloodsworn and the Brotherhood. In his personal view they were not following the teachings of the Three Avatars and had proven themselves unworthy to lead the crusade of rebirth in their name. His Great Rebellion would spread near and far across Maw Territory until he cast down those heretics and install himself as Supreme Overlord of the Maw by any means necessary.

The World of GH-531 was to serve as his powerbase in said rebellion. But he would first need to break apart the army sent against him from both the Maw and the Consortium. Gazing down at the holoprojections of the battle in his throne room as his slave army was slowly crumbling due to the combined efforts of the Bloodsworn, Xardrael's Cohort and the Consortium's Rabal. His former warlord Zachariel Steelblood was a formidable foe and would tear apart his army in a single blow. Although his challenge would not go unanswered for long.

Activating his throne's projector as he appeared above the fortress in an enlarged hologram.

"Hear me as well, Worm Bloodsteel. You are nothing more than a dog cowering underneath the heels of Mori. I will accept your pathetic challenge in the name of the Three Avatars"

The Taskmaster said as the transmissions faded and his form once again rested upon his throne.

The Second Gate of the Fortress would now open and his more heavy armored Exalted moved forward to combat them and the blood frenzy would begin.

 

[Zachariel Steelblood]

Objective: Fight
Equipment: Weapons | Chosen
Tags: Xârdrael the First | Glædwine Jendri | Open

The Bloodsworn tore into the fools standing before them. There was a certain... reckless abandon to their actions, as if they didn't care if they lived or died. At the same time, they moved with all the skill of a professional army. Squads moved forward, cutting into the enemy with blade and gun, giving priority to slave handlers and enemy leaders. They would cut off the head and then kill the body, leaving nothing but ash behind. Pushing hard as the First Vanguard began retreating, priority was shifted to those pockets that continued to hold their ground. If they sought to fight, then they would fight and die for their traitorous leader.

As they pushed, their foe retreated, even as their lines were destroyed. A vicious cry went up as the gate went down under the might of Xârdrael and his warriors. Swarming forward, the Bloodsworn charged, attacking like a tide of berserkers. With the warband of the Fell on their flank, the Bloodsworn were free to focus all their attention to the fore. And with their warlord and his closest Chosen there, that front was quickly crumbling as well. Zachariel and his best Chosen were an unstoppable force, with nothing being able to stand in their way.

Slave, soldier, and handlers alike were hacked apart in a bloody frenzy. Zachariel himself was a whirlwind at their head, never stopping in his movements, and moving far faster than someone of his size should have been able to. As the pushed through the rubble of the first wall, Kl'lugarth responded, openly showing himself via hologram. The sight caused Zachariel to pause and watch, scoffing at him, even as his warriors continued their push.

The fool truly thought himself different, blessed. He'd be shown otherwise soon enough. With a dark chuckle, Zachariel responded over the comms.
"I see now that a quick death is too kind for you." Shaking his head, he continued. "No. You'll spend the next century under my blade, begging for death."

Lowering his head to glare at the gate as they opened to release the Exalted, Zachariel laughed. Waving his hand, his warriors halted in their steps, holding where they were. Marching forward as this new foe moved to join the bloodshed, the warlord simply halted at the tip of a wedge opposite them. Lifting his axe, Zachariel pointed it at them and drew deeply from the Dark Side. Then, with a thought, he unleashed a wave of darkness towards the Exalted.

Sneering at the foe beneath his helm, Zachariel lowered his axe before charging once more. Rushing headlong into whatever the Exalted's formation now looked like, the warlord laughed, even as his Chosen followed close behind. As one, they slammed into any warriors that stood before them. Together, they were the spear tip of the Bloodsworn, leading the charge and the slaughter. Laughing as they battled, Zachariel set about taking more blood and skulls for the Avatars.

 

[Xârdrael the First]

Goal: Blood for the Fell
Equipment: This
Tag(s): Zachariel Steelblood , Glædwine Jendri

One of his Marskha-warriors was killed right next to him, some heavy repeating blaster around the second line of defense had opened up on them, but with petty firing discipline and poor accuracy. The despair and shock of the gunner, manifested fear, was a sweet sweet taste for the warriors from Baûrgrim. Xârdrael could not understand why his overlord decided to go and talk. Once he realised the thought, he proceeded with that he also doesn´t want to.

Pushing the blade down into the chest of one of the less meagre looking slaves, probably one of the handlers or officers, the obsidian skinned pureblood looked how his sword sunk through flesh and bones, breaking rips and oblitering the intestants of the man. The shock and pain formed silent words on his lips, the disbelief and terror confusing him. The First moved his head closer to the mans face, the skull-helmet directly staring into the eyes from which any soul and life faded in an instant.

With a wet sound he removed the blade, blood spilling out of the wound, and looked forward. New warriors formed up, together with their pathetic leader. They looked a bit like the maniacs from Zarnâth, but much less ... impressive. The warband so far had lost roughly three out of ten warriors and was right now finishing to clear a redoubt directly on the left behind the first gate which shielded them quite well from the incoming fire for now.

Was some tactical decision needed to move on? Or would they first take a look at the slaughtering profession of the Bloodsworn. They were an impressive sight to behold, definitely worth fighting with. Maybe even against? Who knows what would come. He left that question to the Apostles.

When the troops of Zachariel charged against the new formation of 'elite' enemies, the smile upon Xar's face was hidden by the helmet, imitated by a skull without jaw. For a brief moment he found the leader of the strange foreigners in the mass of melee and tilted his head at Glædwine Jendri before charging alongside the actual Bloodsworn and their Chosen into the line of the Exalted.

​

 

[Glædwine Jendri]

Stratagem​

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Spoiler: Equipment

Heavy Mandalorian Armor​	Implant Armor​
Beskad​	Foldable Munit'kad Halberd​
Talon Vibrodagger​	Brass Knuckles​
MV-18 "Force" Class Vambraces​	Personal Combat Shield​
Mandalorian Assault Rifle​	Twin DE-10 Blaster Pistol​
Heavy Repeating Blaster Cannon​	Jetpack​

It would seem that the Taskmaster would not be defeated quite so easily as his form manifested in a giant hologram. Looking to antagonize the Bloodworn underneath Zachariel Steelblood . Although it only seemed to rally them more with the warlord promising a slow and painful death for the traitor. The Second Gate of the Taskmaster's Fortress had been opened and more heavy infantry force moved forward to engage with the Consortium and Mawite Forces in the form of the Exalted. They were no doubt more professional warriors than the slave army.

Glædwine was just finished defeating a slave when he caught the nod from Xârdrael the First and promptly returned it. The Warriors of Abonshee would soon finish up the Second Vanguard of the Slave Army as they slowly crumbled. The Heavy Infantry Mandalorian moved forward along with his warriors to engage the Exalted alongside Xardrael's Cohort and the Bloodsworn Chosen underneath Mawite Warlord Zachariel Steelblood. Swinging his axe around himself and chopping right into the breastplate of an Exalted Warrior.

The Combined Force was overwhelming in their assault but the Exalted Line held strong even with the waves of darkness crashing into them.

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Taskmaster Kl'lugarth

The Taskmaster slammed his fist down onto the arm of his blood throne. It would seem that he made a grave tactical error in underestimating his former warlord Zachariel Steelblood and the combined might of the Mawite and Consortium Force under Xârdrael the First and Glædwine Jendri. Defeating this combined army would give him quite a reputation as more warriors would flock to his banner should the Great Rebellion actually succeed. However, his fortress reserves had been drained quite considerably by sending the Exalted onto the battlefield to hold the line. They were fearless warriors without fail having been bound to his will. They would not cower and flee like his slave vanguard units even in the face of overwhelming defeat.

Getting up from his throne as his heavy armor clanked and creaked and moved towards the inner sanctum accessible behind the throne. His blood sword hung from its sheath but not for long as it was withdrawn. Its jagged blade would serve him well in fighting his former warlord but it would equally serve him well now.

In a single swing, his left arm was chopped off as the blood gushed from his wound and crept along the room.

"I OFFER MY ARM IN EXCHANGE FOR AN ARMY, ISHKA DUNMARKA GUAHASROA!"

The offering to the Eldritch Entity known as the Great Vortex of the Force would be answered in full as the arm disappeared and the wound was sealed. Ancient magic from beyond the realm of the netherworld would flow into the room as quite a considerable wind was picked up by the attacking force. Powerful light surrounded the fortress before finally settling.

In the skies, a sudden roar of the Ice Screamers of Verin could be heard as they flooded from the top of the fortress where the communication tower once was. Out of the Second Gate poured the Exalted Abominations, Blind Horrors of Arimurkhan, and War Trolls of Garnash as they reinforced the line of the Exalted Warriors. Enemies never before encountered by the Brotherhood of the Maw since they belonged to a Renegade Mawite Tribe called the Techno Magorum.

 

[Zachariel Steelblood]

Objective: Fight
Equipment: Weapons | Chosen
Tags: Xârdrael the First | Glædwine Jendri | Open

A vicious grin on his face as his warriors slaughtered, Zachariel took the head of another handler. All around the warlord, war raged. Slaves fought against hardened warriors, forced to hold the line by new and veteran handlers alike. And in the end, it wouldn't matter. Anyone with a modicum of battlefield knowledge would know a slave army wouldn't be able to hold for long against a proper force. Seeing as the army now attacking was made up of three separate and skilled forces, they easily classified as a proper force.

As Zachariel cut apart another slave, he glanced towards his newfound allies, noting them. A Pureblood leading a small warband of elite warriors, and a Mandalorian leading another group of warriors. The warlord would watch both of them for a moment, gaze settled on them as they battled, noting their fighting styles and what they did. As they battled, they'd feel his gaze on them, and the bloodthirsty grin that overcame his features as he saw them casually kill the curs that opposed them. He approved of their actions and turned his gaze forward into combat, continuing to fight.

Together, the three forces pushed deep into the enemies forces. They had cut apart the First Vanguard easily, routing the foe and rounding up slaves to take themselves. And now the Second Vanguard was crumbling as well, suffering casualties with every second that passed. At the forefront of this bloodshed, Zachariel spun and killed, knowing Kl'lugarth would have to change something if he wished to keep his army about himself. That change was the Exalted, something Zachariel truly hoped would be a challenge.

Charging them alongside his Chosen and their allies, they cut into the Exalted with ferocity. Several of them had died under the wave of darkness, but more held the line. It was clear to them all that only a traditional fight would end them and let them pass. Chuckling at the challenge, Zachariel engaged a pair of them.

"Come then, come and die for your failed rebellion."

Next to him, the Chosen of the Bloodsworn had slammed into the Exalted as well. moving in a loose wedge formation, these were the melee specialists of this elite group. And they tore into the foe with relish, battling their equals with zeal. Behind them, and directing the marauders, were the ranged Chosen. Said warriors directed their soldiers into securing their surroundings, or directing their fire at Exalted that weren't yet engaged. As this battle devolved, more died on both sides, blood drenching the ground even as the sounds of blades clashing echoed above all else.

Zachariel himself battled the Exalted with relish. One of the original pair had been killed quickly, while the other was wounded. But another pair had joined the remaining warrior, ganging up on Zachariel. Blades spinning around himself as he dueled them, the warlord laughed. Alone, they weren't a challenge, but they worked surprisingly well together. But not well enough in the end. After a few more moments of battle, Zachariel's smirk became evident through his helm.

His bloodlust rising further, the warlord spun around a set of attacks, diving in on the wounded Exalted. Knocking aside the counter attack, Zachariel's axe snuck through the warriors guard and took his head from his shoulder. Spinning around the still standing body, Zachariel unleashed a force push on the corpse, flinging it towards one of the other pair. Said Exalted was bowled over by the corpse, giving Zachariel ample opportunity to leap atop the other one, bringing him down under a flurry of blows.

It was then that the roar of the Ice Screamers echoed out, prompting many eyes to shift to them. Zachariel himself directed his gaze there, taking in the new foes quickly joining forces with the Exalted. Laughing louder, the warlord advanced on them, ignoring the rising form of the downed Exalted. The man was pushing away the corpse of his fellow, rising as he did so. Instead of seeing the warlord he'd been battling, he instead saw a Chosen approach him calmly. Snarling, the Exalted flung himself at her, hoping to eliminate her so he could strike at Zachariel's back. Instead, he was cut down as the Chosen known as Maeve never stopped in her march.

Zachariel didn't care about that however, instead he charged the new foe with joy in his step and a war cry on his lips. Followed by Maeve and another Chosen, the warlord launched himself at them.
"BLOOD AND SKULLS FOR THE AVATARS!"