[The Rise of Iron] Battle In The Stars

[Isamu Baelor]

Aboard the Relentless, in its canteen, Reaper Squadron sat huddled around a long table. Some were shooting the breeze, while others played pazaak. Idle chit-chat dominated the table, as some gambled away their credits. “You hear?” Ensign Burne asked. “A couple of Gladiator Squadron got shot down over Coruscant.”

“Gladiator Squadron?” Rezin rolled her eyes. “They’re garbage.” She said, her words tinged with disdain. “Not even fit to tie our boots.”

Ensign Sauper nodded along with his captain’s comments. He seemed lost, engulfed in the card game in-front of him. With some credits on the line, he placed his final card face-up on the table, and a smirk formed on his face. “Nineteen.”

Suddenly, the monotony shattered, as alarms blared throughout the ship. “The fleet is under attack. I repeat, the fleet is under attack. All fighters, report to your stations.”

“Some action? Finally!” The pilots of Reaper Squadron jumped from their seats, anxious to enter the fray. That is, all but one.

“Hold on.” Rezin said, a cheeky grin plastered across her face. She placed her last card on the table, and crossed her arms with a smug sense of satisfaction. “Twenty.”

Ensign Sauper’s mouth was left agape. Victory, and some credits, had suddenly been snatched from his grasp. “Oh, come on!” He blurted out; frustration boiling over.

Rezin rose from her chair, the smug grin still shining on her face, and placed her hand on the Ensign’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about the credits...” She said.

A welcome reprieve. A sigh of relief left the lips of the Ensign. “Thanks Captain, I…”

“I’ll get them when we come back.” She said, her words followed by a brazen chuckle. She raised his right hand, and gave the Ensign a few gentle taps on the cheek. “I’m not letting you off that easily.” She then turned to the rest of her squadron, and gestured for them to move. “Come on. Let’s rock and roll!”

The pilots raced through the corridors of the Relentless, pushing through swathes of frightened civilians. It was a mess. The former-One Sith ships were overflowing with refugees, who had little idea on what to do in these situations. They reached the hangar, and split up, with each headed to their fighter.

Rezin descended into the cockpit of her star-fighter. It was a small enclosure, barely able to fit one person. However, it was home to her. A place where she felt most comfortable, a place where she belonged. She flipped the ignition, and her fighter hummed to life. The sound was pleasant to her ears, it was comforting.

She rushed through the pre-launch check, verifying that the fighters systems were operational. “Reaper-one, you are clear for launch. Good luck!”

“Oh gee, thanks a lot.” Rezin said, her words drenched in sarcasm. She gazed out into the black abyss beyond the hangar, and licked her lips. Excitement welled up in her stomach; it had been too long since she had soared through the stars. “Let’s party! Reaper-one, launching!” She said, as she gunned the throttle. Her fighter screeched through the hangar of the Relentless, and joined the battle outside.

She was home.

 

[Zeradias Mant]

The ship rumbled as it catapulted towards the false king's ship at high speeds. Blasts of green and blue shot past the transport as it weaved in and out through both friendly and enemy fire. The ship rocked as it was grazed by a turbolaser battery, but it didn't seem to matter. Either the shot or pilot was off, and so long as they were still flying, Zeradias cared not.

The Crossbones Triumvir would soon meet his fate. He could feel the ship come to a slow and a gradual halt. The boarding sequence would be beginning soon. With some compression and unlatching of airlocks, the boarding could now begin. 8 iron clad men armed to the teeth entered the halls of the much larger vessel. No enemies...yet. That didn't mean their presence was unknown though. In fact, it was highly unlikely their presence went under the radar at all. Which meant one of two things: Zera and his men were no threat, or there were much bigger issues to deal with. He had been the aggressor and the battle was still ripe, so it must have been the former. But why would the Mallister discount those who had just boarded his ship?

His men started to fan out, when Zera raised his hand. "Wait." But it was too late. With a scream, a large spike protruded from the floor, impaling Zera's soldier. Then the fireworks came. Pirates of the triumvirate emerged from every corner of the hallway, weapons raised. Though confident his troops could remedy the situation, he had a better idea.

He raised his hands.

​

[member="Isamu Baelor"] | [member="Garm Berik"] | [member="Kobeon"] | [member="Tobias James"] | [member="Lyle Baelor"] | [member="Arrik Terran "]| [member="Songbird"]​

 

[Kobeon]

Jostling, bostling, gyrating and vibrating, the transport blasted through space. It grinded through the debris of exploded torpedoes and unlucky fighter craft, propelled by a mighty sub-light engine. It was spearheading a group of roughly six or seven transports as they hurtled through the vastness of space towards their prey.

And then, BOOM.

A glancing blow from a turbolaser jarred the spacecraft heavily, threatening to rip Kobeon and the rest of the passengers from their harnesses and out of their seats. The blow also fried the occupants of the cockpit, so the craft was now essentially a fire-and-forget cannon fodder delivery system. Atmosphere was leaking out into the void as the craft barrel rolled its way towards the enemy flagship.

As the pressure dropped and oxygen suddenly became a fond memory, something extraordinary happened. Another ship exploded right next to the transport, which not only rocked it to its very core, but gave it a little sideways momentum.

You're not gonna believe what happened next.

Instead of the transport splatting against the side of the flagship and exploding in an anti-climatic poof, the smoking transport careened into one of the open hangar bays of the flagship and skidded to a halt.

Talk about good luck.

Kobeon and the rest of the soldiers shared a quick glance between themselves, with lots of murmuring and shrugging, before they decided it was time to get out and see what all the fuss was about. They didn't even know about the phenomenally unlikely events that had just transpired to get them to this point...

Spoiler

[member="Isamu Baelor"] [member="Abraxis"] [member="Garm Berik"] [member="Konrad von Grimmelshausen"] [member="Arrik Terran "][member="Zeradias Mant"] [member="Songbird"] [member="Aster Rose Moreau"] [member="Tobias James"] [member="Lyle Baelor"]

(More shameless bumps.)

 

[Ket Van-Derveld]

Cold and Dead. Dying. Death becomes her, this galaxy...

The thoughts of the Lupine Lord played quietly, and with purpose, across his grey cells. This galaxy needed an enema. Something to flush out the pretenders, the heretics who thought themselves holier-than-thou. The universe they all shared was weak indeed, and without true direction. Or purpose, for that matter. Pirates and Commanders, Mercenaries and Captains-of-the-Guard, Jedi and Sith. All were the same now, even if most couldn't understand it. The deep, black expanses of space held such secrets, and even more now than before. Things those of his generation thought common knowledge nothing more than quiet whispers in the back of libraries and bars alike.

Yet here he was once again. Like a shadow that slowly weaves it's way across the ground, he made his way through the Galaxy, taking in all that was available. He'd seen movements lose footing, entire Orders crumble into dust, and those who seek power scatter to the cosmic winds. Yet through it all, the Lupine remained. Such was the nature of the Wolf. Only one upon equal footing with the Wolf could gain it's attention, let alone respect. Yet, in the shadows that he crept through, the whispers of The Iron Empire had reached his keen ears.

And after much thought, the Deceased Star, a heavily modified GAT-12h Skipray Blastboat, found itself parallel to the hull of the Relentless, and sending a simple message to it's commander.

"Send this message directly to your leader, Ironmen. My name is Ket Van Derveld. I offer my...assistance. I await your reply, yet actions have always spoken louder than words. Do as you will."


[member="Isamu Baelor"]

 

[cheshire_kitty]

Dageon watched somewhat amused, the former One Sith Military Executor’s disdain for that flippant ‘king’ evident on his face which had been prematurely aged from all that he had endured. "Those of you who can fight, with me!" the man ordered as he looked upon those who surrounded him.

A soldier at heart with a taste for combat, Daegon followed the aged man through the busy corridors of the Relentless and into the well-stocked armoury. The cyborg watched quietly as the soldiers from the boarding party encased their soft flesh bodies on hard armour with a smirk on his face. What these people wanted to avoid by donning their heavy sets of armour was what brought Daegon joy.

Pain, it was the only way he was able to ensure that he was somehow still human. Each injury reasserted his humanity bringing him a strange sense of delight. Becoming a cyborg was never something he had wanted but fate cruelly disagreed. Instead, he was found within an inch of death and saved by the selfish doctors who didn’t give a kark about his wishes. Like Frankenstein's monster, he was turned into an amalgamation of man and machine. How disgusting.

Resting the weighty war hammer on his shoulder, Daegon followed the esteemed General to the hanger and boarded the shuttle. He was ready to teach that brat king a lesson in respect - something the kid’s useless parents should have taught him when they had the opportunity.

| [member="Isamu Baelor"] | [member="Ket Van-Derveld"] | [member="Kobeon"] | [member="Abraxis"] | [member="Garm Berik"] | [member="Arrik Terran"] | [member="Zeradias Mant"] | [member="Songbird"] | [member="Tobias James"] | [member="Lyle Baelor"] |

 

[Zeradias Mant]

With hands raised and weapons on the floor, Zeradias and his entourage surrendered themselves to the Crossbones Triumvirate. Without saying, one of the enemy soldiers barked out to bring them to the king. Zeradias grinned at the thought of it.

They truly were pirates, and about as bright as their leader. They were so confident they had one, they hadn't even bothered to bind Zera or his men. What did present a challenge though was the sheer number of pirates present. They weren't taking any chances in the on-board security of their ship or their king.

Soon, they entered a large room, which Zera presumed to be the bridge. There were several men and women working at various stations, but there was still an abundance of space for the pirates and now prisoners to move freely. As the group slowed to a halt, the pirate in charge detached himself from the group and disappeared. Shortly after, he returned - with the Mallister king from the transmission.

[member="Isamu Baelor"] | [member="Garm Berik"] | [member="Songbird"] |[member="Lyle Baelor"] | [member="Tobias James"] | [member="Kobeon"] | [member="Ket Van-Derveld"] | @Arrik Terran​

 

[Lok Xiangu]

He was vigilant and ready to strike on any hostile that came across him. Reports came that squads of pirates were now within the corridors of the star destroyed as the defenses within the hangar weren't enough to keep the hostiles at bay. There were still Iron soldiers keeping more of the pirates from going inland in the vessel, but little by little the pirates began to storm through the corridors of the Relentless. Iron soldiers that were not in the vicinity of the hangar but patrolling the corridors of the ship were setting up positions and ready to face the horde of savage pirates.

Lyle and his men, however, would engage when they would encounter a small squad of pirates that didn't expect the unexpected.

And to the Agent's expectations, Here came a squad of eight pirates walking in the same corridor that the Baelor and his men were in.

The Baelor waited and waited until th scums would pass him and his men which would be the perfect time to attack the hostiles in a quick and effective way. Once the squad leader passed Lyle, the Agent went behind the pirate and snapped his neck. The rest of the pirates shared a similar fate as their throats were slit, got a slug or blaster in their head, or whatever assassination method the men of Illusion Squad decided to execute.

[member="Zeradias Mant"] [member="Daegon Vaelaellis"] [member="Ket Van-Derveld"] [member="Kobeon"] [member="Rezin Chareux"]

 

[cheshire_kitty]

On the bridge of the Relentless:
Slicers tapped away diligently at their monitors as they worked to open the hangar doors of the Crossbone King’s flagship. Their fingers flitted around the screens as they steadily cracked one layer of security after another. Although the arrogant king’s ship was menacing in appearance, its security was standard at best - no wonder he desired control of the migrant fleet.

Near/outside the hangar:
The shuttle carefully navigated its way to the hangar of the enemy’s flagship with several squadrons of fighters diverting much of the fire away from it. After a fifteen minute long dance, the shuttle reached the hangar’s opened doors and made its entrance, unopposed.

Upon disembarking from the shuttle, its passengers would see that several smaller ships from the migrant fleet had already landed and awaited the arrival of their leader. The migrants had wrested control of the hanger from the Crossbone Triumvirate soldiers who were now either restrained in stun cuffs or lay crumpled and lifeless on the ground. The hangar had been transformed into the migrant's beachhead from where they would launch an assault upon their leader's eagerly anticipated arrival.

Aboard the shuttle:
Daegon stared at General Baelor who sat opposite as he waited for the stern man to rise before he followed. “It’s not good form to keep them waiting,” he grinned as tightened his grasp on his warhammer.

[member="Isamu Baelor"]​

 

[Isamu Baelor]

The shuttle shook, and rattled, as it weaved through incoming fire. Their plan was reckless, foolish even, though they had little choice. The Migrant Fleet, formerly the Military Executor’s fleet, was not the well-oiled war machine it once was. It had become sluggish, and bloated. Filled to the brim with civilians, and stragglers alike.

The shuttle pierced through the pirate’s lines, and landed in the ships hangar bay. It followed a number of transports, all of which had delivered a compliment of soldiers to the pirate’s doorstep. They had pushed back the pirate menace, and claimed the hangar as their own. It was a common tactic, used by the General’s former-One Sith forces. It would deny the enemy a place to repair, and rearm. While also gaining a position from which to coordinate an attack.

Isamu stepped off the shuttle’s ramp, and was received by one of his captains. “General, the hangar bay is ours.” The Captain reported.
Isamu offered the captain a small nod of approval. “Hold the hangar.” He ordered. “If they retake this position, they’ll have us cornered.” The captain acknowledged his others, and saluted the General.

The former-One Sith soldiers pushed towards the bridge, carving through the pirates. They were trained for war; veterans of numerous battles. While the pirates were no more than armed thugs. Swathes of Crossbone pirates fell to their blades, and blasters, until they were within reach of the bridge, and the King.

[member="Zeradias Mant"] | [member="Garm Berik"] | [member="Songbird"] |[member="Lyle Baelor"] | [member="Tobias James"] | [member="Kobeon"] | [member="Ket Van-Derveld"] | [member="Arrik Terran"]​

 

[cheshire_kitty]

[SIZE=10.5pt]Daegon's face twisted into a wry smile as he followed [member="Isamu Baelor"] out of the hanger and into the foray of battle to teach that brat king a lesson. With the support of former One Sith military personnel, the two made their way out of the hanger, exchanging blaster fire with the enemy forces as they pushed their way forward. Men from both sides fell as firearms sung in harmony with the occasional pause from one side to reload.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]By the time the former One Sith military personnel had arrived at the last door, their numbers had decreased by a third and left a trail of dead bodies behind them, friend and foe alike. There was no time to mourn the loss of the comrades that they had fought with for many years. Mourning the loss of lives was a privilege that was reserved only for the victor after all.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]Adrenalin pumping violently through their veins, the men lead by General Baelor breached the last door and entered the bridge, ready to avenge the lives that had been lost in order to meet this frivolous and selfish king. A lot of good men had died – this was a debt that could not easily be repaid.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt][member="Zeradias Mant"][/SIZE]​

 

[Zeradias Mant]

A door whirred open, and emerging through it was none other than the One Sith defectors [member="Isamu Baelor"] and [member="Daegon Vaelaellis"], followed by what appeared to be at least a squad size element of soldiers. Taking advantage of the confusion, Zera shouted.

"Now!"

With a quick move of his hands, he reached under his cloak and pulled out a blaster pistol, as did several of his entourage. Those unarmed began to engage the foes closest to them in a more hands on manner. The self-proclaimed Crossbones King stood at a higher elevation, dumbfounded as to what was happening before him. Zera imagined the look on his face when he'd realize he lost, something akin to that of a spoiled child getting his favorite toy taken away. The king would lose more than that though. His life would breath life into his ambitions as well as that of Baelor's vision.

At a quick walk, Zeradias shot at foes that stood in his way or appeared to be turning aggressive. He shot at crewmembers abandoning their posts. There was a female officer who appeared to be a leftenant he introduced to his left hook. As he climbed the stairs, the Mallister's senses seemed to be coming back to him. But it was too late.

As his guards beside him shot at General Baelor's boarding party, they neglected to cover behind them. Climbing the stairwell, Zeradias put a well placed blaster shot into the backs of both guards before shooting the false king behind his left knee. Jaron Mallister fell to his knee, appearing to sob as he awaited his imminent fate. Without breaking pace, Zeradias holstered his pistol and stood behind him, grasping the his forehead and chin, lifting his face to face that of Isamu Baelor. Without speaking, Zera looked to him to await confirmation, that this was the fate the former One Sith general desired of the Crossbones King.

With a subtle nod, it was done. Zera's left hand went right and his right hand left. With a loud snap, it was over. With a simple nod of the head and movement of the arms, the Crossbone King became the Brokenbone King, his head dangling from his body before Zera released it. Hubris held Jaron up, and gravity brought him down with a metallic thud.

The fighting ensued for only a few short minutes until the pirates realized it was all for naught. A ragtag flotilla of civilians and defectors defeated the organized efforts of a pirate gang to mark their first true victory. The flotilla had the potential to be more than that.

It had the makings of an empire.

 

[cheshire_kitty]

A sense of excitement filled Daegon as he watched the bridge rupture into an uproar instigated by [member="Zeradias Mant"] and his men. Caressing his heavy turadium warhammer as if it was his beloved woman, he brought it down on the head of one of the boy king's men. Hanging on to life by a thread, blood gushed out of the man's collapsed skull at a rapid pace as he bled out. To end his miserable existence would be to show him mercy and a merciful man Daegon was not. Instead, he simply advanced towards the brat king's glorified bodyguards and swung his warhammer in an arc, hitting several of the men as the One Sith defectors joined the battle, trampling on the men Daegon had left crumpled on the floor.

The disarray of battle continued as one side fought to annihilate the other, dying the room a brilliant scarlet and filling it with the intoxicating aroma of blood and blaster fire. In short, it was a bloody mess. Daegon did not pause in his quest for blood until the pirates realized their efforts were futile. Their king was dead lying on the floor like a ragdoll dropped by a child, his head in an unnatural position. What a pitiful sight. A fitting end to an unbefitting king.

[member="Isamu Baelor"]​

 

[Garza]

"A man waged war upon a castle, and it's valiant men. Fighting for days in the heat of the day, the cold of the night, rain in the morning, and through it all, the King finally claimed triumphant in the battle. He won the spoils of war. Honor, Glory, and Women were his prize. As he walked the streets, slaves held by chains followed him. Bowing to him at every waking moment. Those who refused to bend the knee, were severed with fate, and sent to a rushed end. Standing in the throne room, A slave placed a crown upon his head. With words of caution. 'Kings rise and claim power. Seige castles and spoils of war. You will meet your fate by a blade. A blade in the back from your trusted subjects, or the blade of another rising King."

Many people claimed titles, positions of power, and even bragging rights of special weapons or tools. When their life was nothing in the grand scope. The men and women who died for either side played their role to live, to fight, and to die. However, this kings role would soon come to an end. While I had not been directly with either of the factions that seemed to be Fighting this far out in the system, I shook my head. Slinging the ship round and round. Trying to avoid lancing bolts of energy fired at me.

Even for a rather large Calrissian-class freighter, Myself, and my crew of an apprentice, a pilot, and an astromech droid, we were doing fairly well. Considering all of these ships were flying around us. Faster than we were, but juking them by our false sense of pacifism. Even from within the cockpit, I reached out with the force. Grabbing onto the ships as they flew at us in a dog fight. Crushing a wing, or crushing a engine or two. Evening the odds as my apprentice was on the rotary ion cannon. Droid trying to keep up with the fast pace in draining power from even the lights in the ship to give us more power. Of course, my pilot was doing his job.

In the midst of this, one of the parties seemed to be pirates. The other had... civilian vessels. they were attacking people who were not meant to die. Fighting people just for the purpose of killing. No other motive. That angered me greatly. So much so, I would do anything to be on the ground and use my lightsaber to stab them all. Instead, we were stuck in a ship. Reaching for the holocomunicator, I then tried to find the frequency that would be the non-pirates fleet.

"Unknown fleet, I am on a lone vessel stuck between you guys. Is there anything I can do to help?"

I rarely wanted to help people. However, I was not one to leave innocent people hanging. Sure, if they weren't strong enough to fight then they didn't deserve to continue. The problem with that, was the pirates. I despised them. Ballsy motherfrakers. I likely wasn't going to extend myself out like this to them any time soon. Well, let me correct myself, if they were to offer me a job... then maybe.

[member="Daegon Vaelaellis"], [member="Zeradias Mant"], [member="Isamu Baelor"] [member="Lyle Baelor"] [member="Ket Van-Derveld"], [member="Kobeon"], [member="Rezin Chareux"],

 

[Isamu Baelor]

The bridge erupted into chaos. The intrusion of Isamu, and his cohorts, threw the pirates into disarray. Some fired at Isamu. Their crimson bolts soared across the bridge, and deflected off his shield. The General pushed forward, returning fire with his own blaster. He pressed forward, under fire, closing the distance between him and the pirates. He released his blaster, throwing it to the side, before unsheathing his sword.

With a mighty cleave, Isamu separated one Pirate’s head from his shoulders. He struck another with his shield, sending him to the ground. He descended upon the fallen creature. Devoid of mercy, he drove his shield into the pirate’s helmet. Blow after blow, rained down. Crumpling the pirate’s protective gear. Blood oozed from the gaps in the helmet, pooling around the pirate’s sunken face.

Isamu rose to his feet; a splatter of blood covering his face. A tense quiet had enveloped the bridge. The pirates had surrendered, relenting in the face of the superior soldiers. Isamu abandoned his shield, letting its blood-soaked metal clash against the floor. He approached the defenseless King, who whimpered like a child.

“Jaron Mallister.

For too long, you have been a scourge upon the galaxy.

For too long, you and your ilk have thieved, terrorized and murdered.

But now it ends.

I sentence you to death.”​

Isamu gave Zeradias a small nod, before justice was brought upon the Crossbone King. His lifeless body crumbled to the ground, a pathetic end for a pathetic man. With the bridge's crew subdued, and firmly in control of the Migrant Fleet's soldiers, a message was relayed to all ships in the area.

“Pirate scum.

Your king lies dead. Broken at our feet.a

I will give you this one chance, and once chance alone.

Lay down your weapons, and surrender.

Otherwise, you will be destroyed.”​

 

[Jaster Awaud]

A massive Fleet of ships flashed into the system. In reality it was two fleets joined together to join in the fray, but to whose side should they join?

4 Crusader class Corvettes
2 MC80 Liberty type Star Cruiser
3 Ulur'uur-class Frigate
1 Xo'Xaan -class Heavy Cruiser
4 Xeta-class Troop Carrier
3 Voyeur-Class Corvette

2nd Company Fleet- Escort and Defence
3rd Company Fleet- Attack and Security

A man stood at the bridge of the flagship, towering over the rest of the men and women walking about the bridge. They were no military force, but they were disciplined, the man in charge made sure of it. In a full suit of armor and eyes beating a bright read, he held his hands behind his back as the fleet exited Hyperspace. He would look at the other force assaulting the pirate scum, but he would not speak a word. Without word the crew knew what to do. No alarms or orders, the fighters would exit their hanger bays and transports loaded with Security Forces. They still stayed within the limits of their fleet, only to protect the ships from other fighter and bombers. This was rookie stuff for them, and this was not their first battle. Many of the ships still had scars marking their hulls from the previous battles they encountered in the Wild Space.

The metal man still stood on the bridge silent, only his beady red glowing eyes nearly shattered the glass separating him from the vaccum of space with his glare. Only after the bridge settled down and everyone was at their station and everyone was in their battle positions he spoke into the ships Communications. "This is Viceroy Jaster Awaud, commanding the 3rd and 2nd Company Fleets of the Unite Trade Conglomerate, it seems you have attacked my prey and dealt with him appropriately, I would like to speak with the Commanding officer of this.... Excursion to have my property rightly returned."

Jaster leaned back to his position he was him before, hands placed again behind his back, facing the glass overlooking the battle. He became a statue once again.

[member="Isamu Baelor"]