Eternal Father
Breath in.
Breath out.
Slowly, incrementally, his chest rose and fell with each drawn breath. His eyes were closed blinding himself to his surroundings as lustily breathed hymns caressed his ears with their somber incantations. He could smell the acrid smoke which wreathed his body, burning bright from thuribles which swung hither and yon around his kneeling body. The stench stung his throat, but yet he breathed deeply of the odor.
Breath in.
Breath out.
It had become ritual, though he could not recall when he had started. Something he had drawn from the ancient annals of his people, the anointing of one’s corporal body while fortifying their mind for the bloodshed and death that was to come. It was comforting in a way, the routine of it all.
They would come in silently, not even their footsteps making a sound that was audible. In their hands, they held an assortment of jars and instruments by which they would carry out their sacred charge. Surrounding him, they would lower themselves to their knees and place the pots on the floor in front of them while placing their tools to the side. One by one, they would open the lids on one of the pots and pick up their tool, dousing the brush in the viscous fluid before then running the length of the brush against his bare skin.
Once he found the liquid cool, but not he could feel nothing at all anymore. He knew that they were applying the oil to his skin, but he could not feel it. That feeling was utterly anathema to him now, completely detached from his existence through the dark power that kept his spirit anchored to this world.
A worthy price to pay for immortality.
Breath in.
Breath out.
For hours they worked his body this way, coating it thoroughly in oil until it shone even in the gloom of the chamber he occupied. Then they would open the other jar they had brought, and reach in to clutch a handful of fine white dust before dousing his body in suffocating clouds. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of animal and non-animal bone had been ground up into a fine powder for this, much of it stored in massive containers elsewhere on the starship and only a small amount retrieved for each ritual. The powder clung fiercely to his skin because of the oil, masking him in a layer of pulverized bone that lightened his skin considerably.
Only then would he open his eyes, dark halos of molten gold suspended in a lake of cruel blackness. The mere sight sent those who had anointed him fleeing out of the chamber, leaving only the chanting priests and priestesses behind to continue their droning hymns. Still chanting, they disappeared into the darkness at the borders of the chamber and returned with pieces of armor laid upon elaborate silk cushions. Piece by piece they assembled the armor over him as he stood, his powdered skin disappearing under a cold heartless black plate. When the last piece was thrust into place, the chanting subsided to silence as they all fell down to the floor and bowed so low that their heads pressed against the floor.
Finally, he was ready.
Darth Carnifex, Dark Lord and Emperor of the Sith, departed his sanctuary without a word.
Up above on the bridge of the massive dreadnought, the command crew were preparing to drop out of hyperspace right as the Emperor appeared amongst them. The swirling blue turbulence outside the bridge’s viewports unraveled into a streak of light before further degrading into the blackness of space with pinpricks of distant stars illuminating the darkness. Ahead loomed the planet of Wayland, the fortress redoubt of the rogue Warlord Kaine Australis and his followers. Even from this distance, the defenses arrayed on and around the planet were considerable even in the eyes of seasoned Imperial veterans.
Regardless, the Empire came more than well-equipped to dig out Australis and bring him to justice. A second later, dozens upon dozens of smaller battlecruisers and destroyers amidst a sea of hundreds of smaller support ships exited hyperspace in battle formation around the dreadnought. Interdiction cruisers set about cordoning off the branching hyperlanes from Wayland, while the assault fleet moved into position to begin landing operations. Heated exchanges between both fleets intensified as they drifted closer into battle, swarms of starfighters filling the gaps like plagues of biting insects.
A targeting shot from the dreadnought’s axial superlaser scythed the space-spire that rose up from Akitagrad in half, causing the massive superstructure to buckle and collapse into Wayland’s atmosphere. Most of the spire burnt up as it fell, but a lot of debris rained down upon the city with apocalyptic fury. The atmosphere was breached by Imperial dropships, massive Ferrata planetary assault carriers anchoring down to disgorge their extensive cargo of soldiers and combat vehicles.
The Battle for Wayland had begun.
Emperor Carnifex had left his dreadnought for the rough journey down to the planet’s surface, his black-plated visage a specter across the battlefield around Akitagrad as he directed his Blackblade Guard into battle against the Mandalorian menace. The fighting was intense, brutally intimate as both sides clashed on the blood-soaked ground while explosives detonated all around them. The only sound that prevailed was that of war, the discharge of rifles, the thundering roar of artillery, and the cries of the dying.
Battle of Akitagrad | Battle of Mount Tantiss |
|---|---|
| The Empire moves en masse to conquer the city of Akitagrad from the Mandalorians, while those who defend it seek to deny them control. Sith artillery pounds the outer defenses while starfighters dogfight overhead. Imperial battle groups are maneuvering to breach the walls and push into the city, taking the city street by street, block by block. | The mountain fortress of Clan Australis is to be taken or destroyed at all cost, those terrorists who defend the mountain rooted out and destroyed. The approach to the mountain is a battlefield of clashing armies, massive siege engines striding across open plains while sustaining concentrated fire from the mountain defenses. |
