Dominion Vinum Sabbathi | The Scourging of Dathomir | NIO

[Konrad Harrsk]

BLACK SABBATH
THE GREAT CONSPIRACY vol. I
Issue #3 w/ Auria Blackmoore

Carved in Stone​

It was high time the Iron Sun dawned upon the murky world of Dathomir. A world of witchcraft, magic, and ritual. Home of the infamous Witches of Dathomir and their damned siblings the Nightsisters. Konrad did not shy away from vocally criticizing the approach - spending resources on long and arduous inquisition while sending the Corps to cleanse the Nightsisters, when all could've been solved with a coordinated orbital bombardment was simply inefficient. Dathomir held no resources, no riches, nothing to be gained.

Alas, this was the will of the current Emperor, and the young assassin clung to the silver lining that after all, they were going to liquidate the abhorrent Nightsisters. They had chosen to swear fealty to the now-destroyed Sith Empire and as such, they had chosen death. This union of depraved minds was to be broken, shattered, and torched to ash. What other way was there to deal with mentally deranged creatures?

However, there was more to this righteous genocide of the mentally ill Sith bootlickers as far as Konrad was concerned. Auria Blackmoore. The pyromaniac witch that foolishly believed to be his equal shared certain religious similarities with the denizens of Dathomir, but somehow was not mentally plagued by their debauchery. She believed in Order and most recently had spent a long tirade on the cost-benefit of bringing order to a galaxy embroiled in chaos. This was her test, and a part of him wished to witness her eating her own words. To prove her worth - her commitment to the Empire - she was to lay waste upon these turpitude foundations intimately connected to her. The price was high but it was always worth.

Her initial shock at the revelation had faded into compliance but would this obedience hold against what she was about to witness and do.

"Fine. But no gas bombs. Got it?" she said before getting in the dropship.

A chit-eating smirk was all she received in response as he shoved past her into the dropship.

Unhinged, the wrath of the Empire came down upon the bastions of darkness dotting the sunless surface. There was no sight of orphanages across the horizon - it seemed the sickly, psychotic brush of the Sith Empire had spared this world of that particular side of their lunacy. Relentless blaster fire ripped through the ranks of the Nightsister's lickspittles the 'Nightbrothers'; no sorcery, it seemed, could save the stillborn concept of matriarchy from its own innate faults.

"There's another way in, but it'll take some dancing around some rancors. Think your mediocre skill can handle that?" she asked him over the din of blaster fire. Hell, she wasn't even sure if she could handle it. But they might as well make the best out of a chitty and dark situation.

"You should be worried more not to trip over this dress of yours." he scoffed, his eyes behind the domino mask scanning her distastefully from head to toes. Some of these days he had to return to The Hidden Kasbah and order a light armor akin to his be made of Auria's measures. She could actively partake in her primadonna fantasies outside of her duty to the Empire.

For all the critique he often laid upon her, Konrad could not deny that Blackmoore was a priced asset to the cause. Her powers, despite stemming from the cursed Force, were a force to be reckoned with, and her mind was much, much sharper than the common witch looney.

"I cannot believe I am saying this but... lead the way." he coarsely muttered as he drew his blade from the sheath on his back. A rancor would need more than just a few slashes to down. Gas would've made the task way more simple, but he'd rather not suffer another breathless rant of the witch.

 

[Wresto]

Objective: 1 Black Sabbath​

---

​

Roi on the nearby vantage point witnessed the initial assault. Dropships and infantry, both mechanized and on foot, began to storm the compound. Being greeted with locals. Overhead past the closest mountain range. Floated above was a victory class star destroyer. The ship blasted down a volley of green turbo lasers. Very likely blowing to smithereens their own target location. An area not designated to be taken over for the larger invasion of the dark planet.

While Roi couldn’t ogle on at the might of the imperials on what he saw as a rather inoffensive world. Of course he wasn’t tainted with the knowledge of who the night sisters were, but they were between him and his pay so they had to be dealt with. Reading his targeting blaster, Roi aimed it down at the ensuing battle. Easily seeing a plethora of targets that came to greet the invading imperials. However, out in the open such targets weren’t of greater value. Aiming his sights over to the walls of the garrison he saw what looked to be individuals with energy bows.

POW

And another bites the dust. As sniper support farther away from the greater battle at hand he began to pick off the garrison. His green blaster fire flew down the cliff side he was currently occupying. This was until his audio sensors picked up something concerning. The crunching of leaves and snapping of twigs close by, too close.

Flinching back Roi saw a masked and hood nightsister who had been sneaking up on him, blade in hand. They were close enough to strike and when Roi saw her she made a lunge for him, stabbing at the ground right after he managed to roll to the side just in time. In one seamless motion Roi did a kick up and got onto his feet. Fists ready for close quarters combat with the nightsister scout...

 

[Tor’r Tal’Verda]

Tor’r Tal’Verda | Death’s Hand
ACQUIRE Information

His crushgaunt landed soundly into the jaw of the ex Sith-Imperial Intelligence Officer, a survivor of the rapid fall of the Sith Empire and a man on the run ever since his leaders in the Dark Council fled the wrath of the New Imperial Order and their allies in fear of reprisal, or perhaps even the purging of their ranks from the hidden New Sith Order. He had been abandoned, he and his own left only with those who operated the Shadow Academy above. Their only refuge, soon to be under siege.

Crack!

The sound of shattered bone and crackling of teeth pierced the Dathomiri air, fragments of jaw and mandible rolled out from under the officer’s lips as the Mandalorian before him reeled in from the heavy blow. There was an audible scoff of disdain from the Beskar’gam fitted warrior as he shifted his veiled gaze toward his commander, the infamous Khamul Kryze of the New Sith Order, a Mandalorian Sith Warlord of fearsome renown.

“Dxun. Mandalore. The Dar’Manda under Darth Carnifex moved it to one of the two before they started dying off. We don’t need this one anymore, he has nothing for us Lord Kryze.”

His hand glided effortlessly to his holstered blaster pistol, the Mandalorian drew it quickly and pressed it against the Sith-Imperial’s head. He heard the whimpering sob begin to beg for his life, he was no warrior he understood nothing as such would become nothing.

“Just say the word.”

His helm snapped immediately as the sounds of nearby dropships screeched overhead. He looked upward and saw with his own two eyes the New Imperial Navy in all it’s glory emerge in it’s entirety, hanging over the planet like a hammer ready to fall on Dathomir.

“They’re here.”

 

[Marcad]

G R E E N _ I N Q U I S I T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
DATHOMIR
STARRING | Atticus Draco | Gail Weller

The two Knights walked out into the forest, ever red and more so with the sabbath lighting down upon the planet. Though he could’ve sworn that the colors he was seeing began to vibrate and intensify, feeling angry. As if the further they walked, the more he exposed himself to the decadent energy that surrounded them.

The sudden voices from Imperial Security Forces distracted him from growing mad, yet he scoffed at their mention.

“Hmph, cannon fodder,” were his only words regarding to the soldiers, refusing to hail back to the sergeant. Brave, yet foolish of those not like him or Aenarion to expose themselves to such sorcery and malevolence.

“We are near the fallen witches,” one of the witches they recruited announced to them and their party.

“I can sense them,” he simply responded to the witch.

Murder...

Again that voice whispering to him, tempting him to act out with untamed aggressive.

“Kill the men and anyone that dares to oppose us,” his hand grabbed the hilt of his lightsaber, yet to ignite his blade as he marched to the coven of Zabraks and Dathomirian Witches. They could sense them which explained the sudden shift of noises coming from the settlement and a wave of primitive warriors rushing to meet their invaders.

Purple beamed out of his lightsaber and ready to cut down what was before his eyes.

Murder...

 

[Aridius 'TK-1575']

ARIDIUS, TK-5324 'Crimson'

D A T H O M I R
OPERATION BLACK SABBATH

ALLIES: Kolson Vrask Aemilio Valaar Knight Auria Blackmoore Roi Lutador Mav Ryburn
ENEMY: NIGHTSISTERS, NIGHTBROTHERS, DARKSIDERS, MAW

PART 2

Kolson Vrask
Aridius was still ducked from the burst of Green-Lighting, conjured by some distant foul witch when he saw the Commandos take lead. Many of the green Stormtroopers, including Aridius, were still taking cover when 'Vandal' Squad knew better. He watched as Kolson partook in close-quarters combat, almost amazed at his efficiency as he blew a hole in the opponent's chest. Suddenly, the very Commando he watched roared, "FORM UP! NOT A DAMN INCH!" . The voice translated through into his helmet; cutting out any unnecessary noise to focus on the command, Kolson's camera feed appearing over Aridius' right side of his HUD. Just like the simulations.

"Let them have it!", Another Stormtrooper shouted out, and so the many Greenies that accompanied the Commando Squad started to get out of their hiding holes and open fire. Showers of Red-Blaster bolts from Imperial blasters opening up on the Nightsisters and Garrison Forces that tried to push up. Aridius would quickly move to stand, his hand pressing tightly against the trigger of his Blaster-Cannon; unleashing a fury of bolts that ripped through the Red-Mist. Providing the Imperial Commandos some breathing room as the foul beasts were getting cut down.

He started to move on, picking up out of the whole and moving forward to close the distance; "Attack Pattern 1-Alpha!" He heard over the intercom, his Sergeant opening up. A standard procedure. This was what it meant to be a Stormtrooper- first to fight, enough to see the eyes of your enemy at point-blank range. A storm of white armor that flowed like a tsunami of blasterfire and bodies. They had to secure a landing site for the larger Imperial-Armor to land, a whole section of AT-AT walkers ready to make touch-down.

Aridius reached closer to where Kolson was; and more were coming- hoping to engage in melee. It would've probably worked for Droids or even those of the Galatic Alliance but NIO was a different story; they thrived in close-quarters. He got stationary, before letting out another loud and thunderous burst from the Blaster-Cannon. To the right of Kolson, he could see several bodies being eviscerated before him from the Blaster-Cannon. The Nightbrother Swarm wasn't very much of a Swarm anymore. One was about to attempt and engage Kolson when Aridius adjusted fire, cauterizing the being in half.

Suddenly, a Nightsister would appear right on the side of Aridius; she was stalking him it seems, with an energy-blade withdrawn. Aridius, being a greenie, stands in shock at the sudden appearance. But not before he would quickly step backward; almost tripping as the blade flew right past his helmet. She swung again, but this time absorbed the attack with his Blaster-Cannon; sparks flying everywhere. Before she could draw again, he withdrew his smaller blaster on his hip and fired a shot into her chest. It opened a massive hole, but she kept on coming- dedicated to the cause.

Aridius, in this moment, felt for the Nightsister. Abandoned by her Officers, left behind as a sacrificial garrison- clinging to some false non-Imperial ideal. If only she simply surrendered or evacuated to a NIO planet, she might have even been able to make it past the countless interrogations and into some introductory Imperial Academy. Might have even become an Imperial Knight, he read that the Nightsisters were force-sensitive. All these thoughts went away when Aridius would kick the Nightsister to the ground, and send two more blaster shots to the face.

He quickly moved next to Kolson, tugging the massive Blaster-Cannon along; the backpack hissing as coolant ensured the energy pack didn't overheat. "What are Commandos doing with a green Stormtrooper Company anyway?" Aridius' voice-link connected to Kolson's, an audible static sounding before and after his voice-command completes.

​

 

[Raus Garrat]

DATHOMIR

OBJ. 1 / BYOO

LOCATION: Airborne, Invading Stronghold(s)

OPFOR: Nightsisters, Nightbrothers, Darksiders, Maw.

//SKYWATCHER TO BLUE-3, STATUS REPORT?//
//BLUE-3 TO SKYWATCHER, WE'RE HOVERING OVERHEAD WHAT LOOKS TO BE AN ENCAMPMENT. MULTIPLE SIGNATURES DETECTED.//
//SKYWATCHER CONFIRMS.//
//GUNS, GUNS, GUNS.//
//GUNS, GUNS, GUNS.//

HIS HEART MEANT WELL, BUT...
​

Like hellfire they rained, stoic was the expression on all of their helmets. A indifferent yet cold grimace with blackened eyes stared daggers into the souls of the soon-to-be bodies added to either Raus' list, or those of his comrades. Repeating blaster fire shredded through homes and sacred architecture alike, relentlessly destroying all that was made personal to the denizens that had built their lives there. They didn't expect what was happening, and Raus aimed to keep somewhat of a low profile without alerting too many numbers to handle.

Lifelessly staring upward with a confused, yet sorrowful expression, a lone Nightsister that had been riddled with excessive scorch marks painted a permanent picture for the corsairs, and what their actions would yield when all was said and done. They were killers, hungry people striving for blood and the broken bones of others beneath them. They wanted freedom bad enough, hated harder than anyone, and would die upon such a hill if tested.

Some part of Raus still truly did it for the sake of his people, as did his peers, but yet there was a wickedness to him. He enjoyed what he did, watching them die by his hand and feeling the dominance that walked in tandem with leadership. Sometimes if one cannot inspire love, they will spread fear instead.

After the travesty of Coruscant, Raus swore something. A kind of oath that many would look upon in disgust and shame, yet his care for opinions was stretching thin. He did what he needed to do.

And he would continue this crusade, this selfish act veiled so thinly by moral righteousness.

Novania would become strong. He would make sure of that.

 

[Knight]

Objective 1
Tag List (below)

Spoiler

New Imperial Army

45th Penal Legion​

Captain Nile Hark​

Unidentified Armored Unit​

Corporal Knight​

Special Operations Command​

Novania 1st Company "Imperial Corsairs"​

Captain Raus Garrat​

1st Storm Commandos​

Vandal Squad​

Commander Kolson Vrask​

Stormtroopers Corps​

Unidentified Stormtrooper Unit​

Trooper Aridius 'TK-1575'​

Unidentified Stormtrooper Unit​

Trooper Mav Ryburn​

501st Stormtrooper Legion​

5th Company​

Lieutenant Aemilio Valaar​

---

Knight had heard a reply to his status report of Landing Zone Thesh being cleared for reinforcement. His hands tightened around the various input controls of the Kezia walker's interior. From last he had heard the fighting around Thesh had been intense. In the barrow marshes the 45th Penal Legion under the pragmatic and veteran Captain Niles Hark were skirmishing with hideous monsters of Dathomir though information on that front was limited. Meanwhile Special Operations Command had sent several units into the fray even further from Thesh and the 45th's location. The 1st Storm Commandos with an attached Stormtrooper unit were stuck in with Nightbrother clan warriors in a larger number than the rest of the New Imperial Army had encountered. Knight had been given notice that an additional company of Stormtroopers had been deployed from the 501st Stormtrooper Legion though he could not be certain where they were, the same was true of the SpecOps Imperial Corsairs who had been reported in the AO but not seen by Knight or his electronic surveillance and targeting equipment.

An alert flashed across Knight's eyes as the landing craft containing the reinforcements arrived ( Mav Ryburn ). Confident in his equipment to alert him before he could fall to an ambush from the rear, the walker pilot turned the Kezia walker towards where the landing craft were slowly descending until they reached ground and their doors opened with a gaseous hiss "Welcome to the battlefront." Knight said through the external speakers of his walker. Bright lights cut through the swamp gases giving the area an eerie glow, while the orange of flames flickered from within the village Knight had just recently assaulted "What is your assignment?"

 

[Atticus Draco]

W H I T E C L O A K
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
KNIGHTS OF THE EMPIRE
OBJECTIVE II
Imperial Knight Armour | Lightsaber
Marcad
Proximity: Gail Weller

Aenarion's eyes tightened, practically into slits while i the company of the Mirialan. He was quick to convey to his partner that he was not a tragic hero. In fact, the Errant was certain that he did not care about the mission at all. As long as he had the chance to kill, to sate this bloodlust that possessed him, he'd be happy. Or at the very least, content.

It was a souring of the mood.

"We must focus on the task at hand, and nothing more, Knight Ara."

It was easy to slip into the ways of the past, to fall into the Dark Side's seductive embrace, but the Knight's Codex taught them to be better. To bury their anger beneath servitude and duty to the Empire, lest they fall and join the ranks of the Crestfallen. Though those numbers were limited, even the Knight-Errant could sense the permeating aura.

"We will succeed, but there is no joy in slaughtering the lesser," he said, even as the Nightbrothers charged out at them, their wailing battle-cries heralding their approach from the red smog that surrounded them.

Moments later, they were in the midst of the Nightbrothers, the double-bladed saberstaff spun about him fast enough to trick the average gaze to believe it a cyclone of plasma. Pivoting from side to side as his blade carved through clubs and limbs alike, the knight-Errant made few killing blows, leaving the paltry defenders in bloody heaps in his wake as he deftly maneuvered through him, as if it were a choreographed dance.

"Even as our enemies, they can still serve a purpose."

 

[Enlil]

This was not how it was supposed to be.

You left before your dream was realized. The dream we dreamed together. A unified Imperium, strong as iron, under an undying sun. Neither darkness nor light would make us falter. Unflinching, you stood as a monument to everything that my father labored to idealize within me. Now, like him, you are gone. Like before, I watch chaos descend. Our Imperium has stopped trying to even rationalize the slaughter it engages in. With the death of one madman, a thousand seeds have taken root and bloomed. This is the state of our Union, Irveric. Your death paralyzed me. I find myself seeking answers to questions we never thought to ask.

Or perhaps we never wanted to face them, and that is how we found ourselves here.

- From the personal journal of Enlil, King of Ketaris​

Dathomir fell swift under the scrutiny of the Imperial Knights as a Bastion of perversion and evil. It had ever been their way to cleanse the heretical forces of the Sith, and those who idealized the power granted by the Force with reverence. Their tireless war against this enemy had led time and again to conflict far from home, while their tithes of Stormtroopers ripped men and women away from home and left worlds within the Imperial sphere bereft of precious human resources. The Grand Vizier did not need to see Fel's methods to know that they were tantamount to genocide. He did not try to dissuade the man, however.

The war effort found fast friends in the Tarkinists. Those who wanted expansive Imperial control were more vocal now than ever. Sequestered away from the Galaxy at home on Ketaris, it would have been imprudent of Enlil to speak out against any part of the war effort. Not while he failed to face the people. A leader without presence held no sway over hearts. Today, that changed. For the first time since his compatriot left them, he was poised to take center stage.

They counseled him to fear reprisal from the shadows. They told him that he should lower his voice, that his head should be kept down. In his depressive spiral, Enlil shut the doors and gathered dust. He questioned himself, his ideals, and his value as a leader. Ketaris found no growth, only stood idly on the foundations he had laid while the rest of the Empire fluctuated. Faltered, even.

Fear had never been his way.

Now, in the Capital he collected his thoughts in the moments before his address. Today, his face would look out over all the people of the New Imperial Order. His voice would call out to them. Would it reach them?

​

"For too long, I have made you wait to hear my voice." He did not waste time on pleasantries. They had not waited for greetings. The Empire had continued without him. "But in lieu of words, you found action. Rurik Fel is a leader unlike his predecessor. For that, we have been saved from floundering. I owe him a great debt for shouldering the burden without question." His ruby gaze moved over the gathered crowd, people indigenous to Bastion but also those who had come only to scrutinize what their transient Vizier had to say. Enlil was a man known for passionate speeches and words both honeyed and venomous. Today, he wasted little time on trying to win their approval. "You have all the iron you would ever need. The finest military in the Galaxy, Stormtroopers to protect you, vast fleets to keep your enemies at bay. Your Empire is strong. Against enemies from the outside, it will not crumble. But what of your soul?"

He asked this question with his hands folded on the lecturne before him, only wearing a small smile. "Irveric Tavlar entreated with me for things that military might could not account for. Your economy. Your social well-being, as a community. Unification that went beyond blaster bolts and durasteel. Your Soverign Imperator entrusted to me the spirits of you, his people, and while losing him shook me to my very core, I cannot go on failing to live up to my promise to him. So to you all I must reaffirm that promise. Here and now."

"While Rurik Fel champions you on foreign soil as your sword, I will be not only your shield, but your anvil. I will give you a place to form yourself into iron. And I will protect that place."

He took a deep breath, and Enlil let out a shout.

"The Iron Sun will never set. This I swear to you!"

 

[Auria Blackmoore]

TAG: Konrad Harrsk | Open

O~~>DARKSIDE<~~O​

Auria pulled a face at his criticism of her dress code.

"Pay me more than one cred a month and I might just." she said dryly. He was insufferable. He had his redeeming moments, but she was sure he was dropped on his head as a child. He still acted like one most of the time, so something must have gotten stuck up in the hollow nut he called a brain.

"I cannot believe I am saying this but... lead the way."

Confusion was visible on the rogue's face.
"I think hell just froze over." she mumbled. "Come on, Sunshine." she said a bit louder before taking off into the woods to make for the Stronghold's western wall with a wider berth.

Despite the Peabrain's protestations, Auria's dark outfit blended in seamlessly with the gloomy surroundings as she moved. The first stretch was uneventful, but before long, an itch in the Force made her stop dead in her tracks right in front of the Butthead without a word.

Dark eyes darted back and forth through the gloom beneath the ominous trees, willing the Force to aid her. Auria spied the Nightsister just as Darksider drew the energy bow. The Imperial witch's reaction was instinctive. With a reflex jerk of her hand, the tree that the Nightsister was in, shuddered violently, causing the aggressor to topple backwards off the branch and to the ground where she then scrambled for her bow almost instantly.

Auria lifted a hand in order to shoot off a blast of fire to finish off the unarmed Darksider, but froze, the act getting stuck in her throat. Finishing off someone that had weapons trained on her or her comrades was one thing. But the sheer execution of an unarmed being that was also kin had Auria choking on stage. And that cost her.

The Nightsister had found her bow and was about to draw down on them once more.

 

[Shai Maji]

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
ANNOY THE KRIFF OUT OF THE OLD MAN | DATHOMIR
TAG: Ghalric Rau | Open
GEAR: In bio | Basilisk War Droid | Grenade loadout

DOGS OF WAR
​

Flying in close proximity to the old soldier was Shai in her own Basilisk. The piercing howls of the engines echoed overhead, soon followed by a strafing run over the fortress while a bunch of missiles tore the area up as well. The cannons roared and the rotary cannon buzzed away, hoping to soften up the Nightbrother defenders a little for the ground troops to move in. :: Hell yeah, horn-heads, guess who's here! :: She cackled over the comms. She doubted that anyone other than Blitz would hear it, but that was fine. After Coruscant, she had a score to settle and he gave her the chance to do just that.

Her moment of blissful purging was interrupted by his voice as he sent her some coordinates. :: Be right there! :: She assured before taking her chances for another strafe over the battlefield. With her comms open, anyone patched in could hear her maniacal giggle as she went about her business...

Shai knew what they had to do. They had to get some Dathomir witches on the NIO's side, at least those that didn't support the Sith. She knew very little about them, so having to plug a witch here or burn a body there really didn't bother her.

But did he have to blow her head off?

With her maw agape she stared at the mutilated body on the ground before her head turned to look at him. "Did you have to use a karking disruptor?!" She shouted as she pointed to the headless corpse twitching on the ground. "Like dude! A karking disruptor! Look at that! Just use a blaster like a normal war criminal, jeez!" She complained as she followed after him to the next customer for the day.

She stood back and waited for him to initiate the next recruitment pitch but it seemed that he had something else in mind. "Wait, what? Me? You can't be... fine." She groaned as she walked up to the door. While the previous bit of ruckus might have gone unnoticed by the little settlement, the ensuing noise would most certainly draw some attention...

"HELLO? ANYONE HOME!?" She hollered as she knocked on the sturdy wooden door of the little hut. A woman opened up and Shai grinned behind her T-visor. "Oh, hey! Good..." She glanced up for a moment then back to her. "Day...? Uh... do you have a moment to talk about our lord and savior, Imperator... the imperator?" She asked happily as her grin became more forced. She honestly hit a blank on the guy's name in the moment she likely needed it most. The woman's glare, however, gave her quite the answer along with the door being shut in her face. "Hey, kark you, lady!" She growled.

An incendiary grenade left her belt and flew through the open window with a whine. Shai turned away just as the hut burst into a roaring inferno, barely louder than the scream from within. "Gotta work on my sales pitch." She grumbled as she walked past Blitz. "There's got to be a better way than this. Isn't there a kriffin' matriarch or something around here?" She asked him as she rested her hands on her hips. She wanted to believe that they didn't seem so threatening... but one headless corpse, one burning hut complete with scorched inhabitant, and two enormous Basilisks certainly didn't promote the message of 'we come in peace.'

 

[Michael Barran]

POST #2
OBJECTIVE 3: BYOO
DRUIDIC_LAIRD
TAGS: Khaostra Devoid

MICHAEL'S LOADOUT
PRIMARY WEAPON: FRAGARACH DISRUPTOR-PISTOL
SECONDARY WEAPON: PALE-BLUE LIGHTSABRE
SECONDARY BLADE: VIBROSWORD CAVALRY-SABRE

PROVING GROUND: BACK TO BASICS - MICHAEL'S WALK THROUGH DATHOMIR (PART 2)

*'Tha mi a ’gairm air Donn,
An Dhuosnos Mòr,
Tha mi a ’gairm air Donn,
Sinnsear Woad, Gàidheal, agus Tuath,

Cluinn mo ghuth, oir tha mi nam uaireadair air na Càirn!​

**'I call on Donn,
The Great Dhuosnos,
I call on Donn,
Ancestor of Woad, Highlander, and Tuath,

Hear my voice, for I am a watcher on the Cairns!

Rolling, deep rhythms would thunder from leagues beneath their feet, heralding the upward climb from a dimension mostly unknown to the majority of the Galaxy's most obscure occultists; and yet, with all the dead and dying Dathomiri natives doing their best to take the souls of as many Imperials as possible with them, Lord-Captain Barran and 1st-Leftenant McBain would stand resolute in the face of the abject horror they were summoning to the surface of Dathomir from the depths of the Goidelic Otherworld. Rocks would come loose from the cracks widened by the sustained rhythmic pressure booming from what felt like the deepest depths of the cave-tunnel to their right, and they were correct in their assumption; ravens would fly out, with a burning reddish light following a cloaked, spectral figure who approached with slow, ominous confidence in the open. As the glowing eyes of the ancient death-god became visible, Lord Michael would know to be silent, patiently waiting for the ancient power to speak first as Donn closed the distance between them, knowing that eternal damnation awaited any who dared speak out of turn to celestials.

*'Kyber, ann an seilbh Goidel? Cuir air falbh e, Cairn!'
**'Kyber, in a Goidel's possession? Put it away, Cairn!'

Bowing after making a slow, courteous show of switching off his lightsabre in plain sight, the Wanderer would be quite rueful about slipping up with something like that, especially in he face of a god who knew what his Woad-born ancestors had become in the many centuries Donn and his Goidels had been estranged from each other. By the time Donn's towering form stood upright before them, Lord Michael and Randall were prostrating in complete humility already, trying their utmost to keep from insulting the celestial as he asked,*'Tha mi a ’fàileadh bàs, ach ag aithneachadh nach eil. A bheil na h-anaman sin agamsa airson a thoirt?', with a booming voice that could be felt resonating from what felt like the insides of the mortals' skulls. Soon after, the ancient deity would lift the Woad and the Highlander to their feet, making a show of saying he was quite happy to address them in more informal colloquialisms as a result of this gesture, once such that was appreciated and given subsequent muttered thanks in reply.
**'I smell death, but recognise it not. Are these souls mine to take?'

*'Tha iad a-nis, Donn Sgoinneil. Naimhdean a tha iad, agus nàimhdean fuirichidh iad.'
**'They are now, Great Donn. Enemies they are, and enemies they shall remain.'

Nodding approval, Donn would then walk off towards the cave's entrance in search of souls to consume, but would turn around and address the Wanderer personally, growling,*'Coinnichidh sinn a-rithist, Mìchael.', before dematerializing and disappearing into the stormy dust outside. Whatever Donn had planned for the dead souls of Dathomir, both the celestial and the mortal knew it would mean fighting the local death-god for the right to each and every last one of them, a fight that none would ever see or learn about until the Goidelic god of death had been summoned once more, a fight that would never be discovered by mortal, living eyes. The true ramifications of the Wanderer's actions, though the ritual itself would be calmer, and quieter than any other events transpiring on Dathomir's surface, would play out over the following hours, and without a single trace of the ethereal duel's occurrence spilling over to the planet's corporeal realm.
**'We will meet again, Michael.'

 

[Gail Weller]

Sergeant Gail Weller
Dathomir's Orbit
Objective #2: Inquisition
Tags: Marcad , Atticus Draco

Cones of light touch the dread forest's floor, a pair of coloured tails rise from its surface, lightsabres. Gail's eyes narrow together. At sight, there was no reply to her wide cast transmission. Maybe they aren't Imperial assets; their blades aren't red, so they shouldn't be Sith. Why aren't they replying to our comlink hails? Did the briefing provide the incorrect comm channel? The wordless thoughts don't leave the confines of her mind. Instead, Gail's left-hand reaches over and activates the autopilot. "Reis, make sure the ship continues to maintain a course circling above the suspects."

"Uh, sure, Sarge, but I don't know anything about flying a gunship." Corporal Reis admits with a hint of audible panic, so his attention fixes on the holographic display on his right and the camera-feed display. It shows him a pair of what looked to be laser swords dancing in a circle of shadowy silhouettes. Reis thought they must have been the knights he and the others were sent to support; it was too much of a coincidence. Reis was sure the Sergeant would agree, but he wondered what she was doing.

"Cycling airlock!" Gail yells through the fuselage at the security officers who wait in the four seats on her right. Sergeant Weller pulls a long rifle from a wall rack and walks over to one of the airlock doors. Gail bends at the waist and picks up a hook tethered to a rope and attaches it to her belt; she pulls the airlock handle downwards; those edges of the door hiss loudly, it swings up and opens. Gail shoulders the long-barrelled rifle and leans from the open door; she feels the hook anchor pull tight, tethering Gail to the gunship.

The gunship is steadily circling above the scene, its' own weapons silent, their foe closing within arm's reach of who Gail suspects are Imperial Knights. Gail would not be responsible for friendly fire. Hanging from the perch, Sergeant Weller peers through the rifle's optic and fires precise shots into the charging lines of Dathomiri warriors who howl and shriek for blood. Gail's crimson bolts each find their purchase. Like an opportunist, Gail strikes them from her roost, sending hot plasma into the breasts of tattooed aliens. "Corporal Reis. When we push back this horn-head attack, we'll identify the force wielders. Get the loudspeakers ready."

 

[Kolson Vrask]

G R U N G E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
IMPERIAL MILITARY ASSISTANCE GROUP
SPECIAL OPERATIONS COMMAND | 1st GROUP | 'VANDAL' SQUAD
OPERATION BLACK SABBATH
Aridius 'TK-1575'

ON THE RUN
DATHOMIR
​

Red mist came in the wake of the blaster cannon volleys. The Stormtrooper Corps never deployed to any foreign world without a metric kark ton of firepower in their wake. As soon as the Empire had the means, Superior Firepower doctrine became gospel in High Command. Never tread anywhere without more troopers on the groud, ammunition in all their weapons, heavy metal to support them and the sun blotted out with TIEs and Destroyers. Maybe that's where the 'Iron Sun' term came from, if not for the iconic cog wheel of Imperialism spinning with its ever machine like apathy and efficiency.

Another Night Brother slipped past the kinetic fury of blaster fire to sick on Kolson with rage in his eyes and a jagged morningstar in his clutches. A swing went for the Commando's abdomen which caused him to jolt back, letting the battle rifle fall from his arms and into the crimson, arid and harsh dirt beneath. A vibro knife was pulled from the sheath fixed to the webbing over his armor. A lunge of the mace from the Zabrak warped the distance between them in the hopes of taking him from stabbing range. Not good enough. He extended his opposite arm out, taking aim down the sights of his indomitable pattern vambrace before firing a grappling line toward the Zabrak, the cord wrapping around its neck several times over before he yanked down on his arm and rushed forward in violent reprisal, the knife driving through the Zabrak's frontal cortex as he reared toward the ground, killing him all but instantly.

He wrenched the dagger from its skull before slinking back into cover only for 'Crimson' to join his flank, tapping through to him on closed comms.

"What are Commandos doing with a green Stormtrooper Company anyway?"

In spite of the rampant, bloody chaos, Kolson offered a rare laugh in return. At some point the question always came up in these circumstances.

<"The story command tells is that it's to ensure y'all came out of Adumar with some sense to you after the surge of recruits that suddenly turned into patriots after Carlac."> He said, eventually taking up his battle rifle from the dirt again, checking the ammo counter and turning to put more blaster bolts down range.

<"The story I like is...Dathomir is open season. No collateral, no civvies, no media. Just killing Sith. Doesn't get better than that."> Kolson replied. As much as he was the cold and collected commander, it felt good to be off the leash.

<"Now cmon, get your boys together we got heavy metal dropping and I'm not letting it go to waste, we're moving up."> Kolson said, slapping the trooper's pauldron before standing up and jolting from the crater in defiance of danger. He wanted to pile bodies. After the IMPMAG operations in assistance to Ashla and the Silver Jedi who had a far more restrictive rules of engagement to their missions, feeling free in the slaughter was a superior feeling.

 

[Amaya Vollmond]

OBJECTIVE II: Inquisition
THEME: Dirty Women

Waymar Geyer

Sharp Fangs and Shimmering Scales

The scent of burnt flesh still clung to the stale air of the makeshift 'interrogation' room. Amaya's face twisted in disgust, her nose wrinkling. Her vibrant jade eyes turned to glare down at the man before her. If the witch were nervous, she did not betray it, her face and figure remaining stoical and still. As they came to a halt, she yanked her arm from the grasp of the Trooper that had guided her and held her in place. A heavy clank growled from the large metal door at the entrance as the man stepped out, a menacing thud erupting from the frame as the door was once more settled shut and locked securely into place. Amaya spotted the Death Trooper almost instantly in her peripherals. If she'd had any intention to escape, his presence alone made it resoundingly clear it would not come to pass.

For a moment, she simply stood there, staring down at the Knight. Slowly a half smirk tugged at the corner of her full, red lips. Though this did not last long, as the pain from the still-open gash was too difficult to ignore. With a soft sigh, she slowly took a seat, her arms still bound in front of her, crossing one long leg over the other. His timbre was even, straightforward. There was an air of confidence to the man, as well as a hint of annoyance. It was clear that though he was dedicated to his task, it was not one he was truly enjoying. However, every bit of his demeanor exuded a resolute professionalism that would be difficult, if not impossible to break.

"Amaya Vollmond, Yes, and, well, that's a bit difficult to say. I was an Adept in my training, little more. " Her answers were straight-forward. There would be no blathering or begging from her. Suddenly, an inquisitive gaze over took her features. Even coated in grime as she was from the battle that had occurred, her organic beauty still shone through. Dark lashes brushed against high cheekbones, the kiss of the sun staining her nose a light red.

"You know, judging by your stock you would have made an excellent servant in my home. Good genetics, passable muscle mass, your offspring would have been fearsome." She leaned back, giving an exasperated sigh as she attempted to get more comfortable. It was a welcome change from being on her knees against the hard ground outside with not but her thoughts to keep her company.

"To answer your next questions. No, I am not Sith. I have no interest and in fact hold a disdain for the dark side. Though I do believe all things should remain in balance. If you'd not have arrived at such an inopportune time, I likely could have chased them back myself with aid from my Sisters. Now, I will not have the chance." She then turned her gaze down to her arm, where tally marks had been drawn and scarred against her skin.

"I killed quite a few of them. Well, a few for someone with so little experience. Never managed to get the ones I wanted though. A shame, really. I was so close." Amaya uncrossed her legs, crossing them once more on the opposing side.

"If you've no intention to...what was it...'normalize' any of us, do tell me now before I make a fool of myself. If your words are true, well..." She then leaned forward, a sly smile flickering upon her face once more.

"Perhaps I can be of use? If you've any more questions, ask at your leisure, Knight." With that, she waited, allowing him time to take control of the conversation once more.

After all, the game had only just begun.

​

​

​

 

[Aridius 'TK-1575']

ARIDIUS, TK-5324 'Crimson'

D A T H O M I R
OPERATION BLACK SABBATH

ALLIES: Kolson Vrask Aemilio Valaar Knight Auria Blackmoore Roi Lutador Mav Ryburn
ENEMY: NIGHTSISTERS, NIGHTBROTHERS, DARKSIDERS, MAW

PART 3

Kolson Vrask
Aridius blinked as Kolson patted his pauldron, thinking over what he said. It was strange to be the new soldier to the entire sector. "We're moving up." Kolson ordered, and Aridius was quick to pick up his Blaster-Cannon and move on. As the Troopers, and the Commandos, ferociously made their push once again- the rains of death became to rain. TIE fighters, Destroyers and Orbital Strikes started to target designated targets from Stormtroopers and other Forward Observers on the ground; the familiar screams roaring overhead as their Green Lasers flew into the Red Mist, briefly illuminating the shadows of Nightbrothers and Sisters that were ripped to shreds by the violence. Several Stormtroopers would drop as they carried on, their bodies dropping to the ground as Plasma bolts from Energy-Bows were singing out; opening up holes into their chest. It was surreal to Aridius to see that, it could be him next.

Aridius' targeting software spotted several more targets; rushing to run inside of one of the many bunkers that protected them from the steel rain. The way they ran, him only able to see their outlined shadows, they were female of some kind. Nightsisters. Why were they hiding? He broke away from the main assault, Kolson could follow if he wanted and quickly moved toward the entrance of the bunker. It was, from a distance, a hole on a small hill of some kind- only to reveal itself to be a sniper pit. Concealed from both orbital scanners and even advanced HUD systems, they chose the right spot. He re-charged the Blaster-Cannon, before letting off a burst of death into the doorway.

The red bolts from the Blaster-Cannon briefly illuminated the bunker inside, Aridius' targetting software spotting four or five targets that were huddled inside. They were hiding because they were children, barely considered combatants. His eyes would widen briefly, watching as the Blaster-Cannon did it's work- CRIMSON MIST. The Blaster-Cannon was so hot and the bolts so large that it caused the body's blood to boil and practically explode, mix that with instant cauterization of the entire body and you have an explosion of guts and burning flesh. Aridius bore witness to all of that.

It was over in an instant, and his targeting software from his helmet confirmed four dead targets. Aridius didn't want to look at it anymore, and he quickly turned away- what if he just left them alone, carried on with the attack? { Don't think about that, this is what it means to be a Stormtrooper. } He said to himself. Suddenly, from inside the bunker of burning bodies, movement is heard. Aridius quickly peaked behind him; pulling out his sidearm to peer inside. The movement was a survivor- a young Nightsister, who quickly stumbled outside of the bunker; in shock.

She looked around Aridius' age, 17 or 18; covered in a typical Nightsister's garb with burns that streaked up her right side. She held up both hands, looking at the burned skin in total shock- shaking, shaking. She looked back up to Aridius, and the barrel of the Blaster Pistol that stared back at her. All she saw was the pure white-helmet of the Stormtrooper, but through the force it was different. Aridius didn't pull the trigger, staring at her.

"Hold it! Hands in the air!" { Your orders are to shoot them, and all of them. } "Surrender!" { She looks as old as I am. }. These thoughts ran through his head. The Nightsister, what was going through her head was unknown, as she lifted her hands idly into the air.. The stand-off was present, would Kolson intervene?

​

 

[Mav Ryburn]

DATHOMIR
OPERATION: BLACK SABBATH
LANDING ZONE THESH
NISA 6TH TRAINING GROUP​

After the troopers inside the shuttle felt the landing craft touch down, it was another 8 seconds before the bay door began to open. The longest 8 seconds of Mav's life. Then they were surging forward together, a mass of clean armor and off-the-line rifles. The reports hadn't lied; this place was seriously red. There was the burned out village, and around them the jungle they'd been warned about. Off to his right, Mav was aware of the other two shuttles deploying simultaneously. The verbal confirmations began at once, ringing out in strained and focused voices.

"Area secure!"
"Moving up!"
"Covering. Go ahead."
"Friendly contact, point 5!"
Bright searchlamps lit up the swamp around them. Turning to face the friendly contact, Mav and those around him were, for a moment, paralyzed.

It was so kriffing cool. Stomping towards them with a booming gait, the walker was easily taller than any man by half. An unseen grin spread under his bucket as Mav recognized the model. Kerzia-Class were such epic machines.

<"Welcome to the battlefront."> The pilot's words hissed and popped from the walker's external speakers, and the immobile troopers began cheering again. Friendly armor units would always bolster infantry morale: that was a law of war.

Upon noticing the walker, the squads from the 1st and 2nd shuttles began to gather around to gawk at the might of the imperial war machine. It gave Captain Urod a convenient chance to address his men. "Alright, alright, I hope you're all inspired. Squad 1, secure the village! 2, begin offloading! 3's on perimeter, let's move!"

The troopers snapped awake from their wide-eyed stupor and ran to their stations. Mav was turning to go when the hissing voice spoke again. <"What is your assignment?">

"Ryburn!"

Wincing at his name being called, Mav stopped on the spot and turned to face the captain. "Yessir!"

Captain Urod shook his head, beckoning the trooper to draw closer. "You failed your first test. When you put that helmet on, your name is TK-2100. You answer to that name alone. So for your second test," he drawled, gesturing to the Kerzia's viewport, "how about you answer the Corporal's question?"

"Sir!" He turned to face the walker, trying to ignore the feeling he was about to be stepped on. "The NISA 6th Training Group will establish Forward Post Thesh for all future occupational activity. Heavy weapon placements, a communications relay, and a medical facility will be built and maintained by the 6th Group. Sir!"

For the rest of his life, Mav would wonder whether his answer had been sufficient. What Captain Urod would have said. What expression he'd made behind that helmet.

A shriek. A flash of green. The captain spun to the ground, a hole in his chest.

"Sniper!"
"Contact, contact!"
"In the jungle, points 3 and 9!"
"They're coming back!"

Then the panicked rhythm of 60 brand new rifles being fired for the first time.

 

[Jin Kyrel]

Objective: 4

Oh the irony, once long ago Jin Kyrel left Dathomir, an unsure hero of his people, an idealist seeking to rid the Sith Empire from his world. Leaving it in the hands of a Sith collaborator mother, a Nightsister who served the Sith butchers, in order to walk the path of an Imperial Knight. For years since within the Third Imperial Civil War, the path had seemed so bright. A dark legacy was as if a dark cloud hanging over the boy. In the middle of the Imperials war against the Sith, on a fateful day on Vjun it had all changed. Now the same boy returned as a man reborn in darkness, the darkness that flowed in his veins had finally come home.

Perhaps the most ironic thing he took, he thought the Imperials would liberate Dathomir. Drive out the Sith elements, but it seemed as if no quarter was shown. Not that the young Kyrel wouldn’t have done the same. Now he stood over the corpses of witches loyal to the Sith, that of his own family. His saber once a blade pledged to serve both Rurik Fel, and the sovereign Imperator was now a weapon of evil. The silver blade still present as if only a reminder and mockery to his past. The being cloaked in darkness, sealed away the corruption of a Sith that tried to consume him. Staying out of sight while the Order carried out its mass purges. It was unknown if he would cross paths with the Knights. For Jin, had other ideas. Jin with the infection craving more from him, so to did his desire for power.

He looked no further than the criminal past tied to his home. How a Sith named Maul had once ruled for a time before being brought down by the Empire. It was too soon to reveal himself, and not when he had unfinished business to attend to. Surrounded by those he wanted to kill for years, he expected some catharsis and yet felt nothing. The anger slowly boiling from within. He thought that he would have found peace in doing one of his goals. That after so much war, strife and sacrifice it would have meant something. He only found that it was all hollow in the end. That what he hoped for was not quite the same as being.

His saber still grasped to his fingers. Soon finding himself sitting down on a throne, in a hall from a different time. Faces once known, now dead at his feet. A gloved hand placed above the mask of a tired and watery face. Yet felt something within the force. His eyes widened. Something that felt so similar to him, something unheard of only in dreams. Only what he sensed had called him from beyond known space. Something that he hoped, dreaded and even loathed at times. He spoke aloud a word he thought he never would say in anticipation of the arrival. “Father?”

 

[Waymar Dathrohan]

P A L A D I N
KNIGHTS OF THE EMPIRE
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
ARMOR | LIGHTSABER
Amaya Vollmond

GOT ME WRONG
​

He appeared as a nigh automaton. A man all but constructed of argent steel before her as his true gaze was hidden beneath the helm he donned. He portrayed no emotion, only a placid judgement. She immediately began to speak at Waymar's first flurry of questions and her answers...perplexed him, to say the least. The Witches to this point had come with a fearful, placid or deranged demeanor before him. And then there was Vollmund. A truly snake-like nature about her, able to slide and weave between words so seamlessly, leaving the Knight to hang on each statement before releasing she'd wrapped around his thoughts with another.

Dangerous. But dangerousness bred usefulness.

<"Several of your kin have already been brought in for 'Normalization' ."> Waymar remarks before speaking up once more.

<"You say you believe in 'balance' of the Force and yet you detest the Sith. Elaborate on this belief."> Waymar pressed.

<"Contradictions and deception will not net positive results for you, Miss Vollmund. It is in your best interests to be honest. It is also in your best interest to provide information on all among your Coven who might bare sympathies and alignment to the Sith. Should this information bare fruit, you will be given preferential treatment following your processing."> Waymar stated, nigh machine like in his words as he worked through them methodically. A duty-bound man as he ever was, even if her behavior seemed to break the status quo of the processing he'd faced over the past few hours.

<"Regardless, you need not worry of the means of which you can be useful to the Empire, we will see it through that you are and if you are not...then your worries will end very shortly and you will be one with the Force once more."> The Knight threatens before eventually he reached his gauntleted hands up to pry the helmet from his gaze, setting it on the desk before him to reveal his true gaze. A man in his mid to late twenties, the latter being justified by the few errant tibanna burns and lacerations along his skin along with budding facial hair. Otherwise, he was presented as he was, a nobleman of Galidraan, the accent certainly revealing his origins in spades as a high born Galidraani, the Knight-Lieutenant as pure bred Imperial as one could ever be.

<"So do not relent in revealing all that the Empire would find useful."> He said, his true gaze locked with her emerald, nigh serpentine eyes.

 

[Khaostra Devoid]

Post: 1
Objective: Return to Planet Hell
Location: Dathomir Howling Crags, Near Abandoned Howling Crags Village
Equipment: Red Midnight Duster | Red Sith Armor | Sith Mask | Grav Boots | CrushGaunts | x2 White lightsabers | Forearm Lanvorak | Wrist Laser | Variety of Explosives | RSKF-44 heavy blaster | X-21 shock glove
Tags: Michael Barran | Lord Letifer

​

Dathomir had long been a battle ground it’s wounds never truly healing, the heart of Dathomir bled rivers of blood with every beat. Long before the Allya the Exile came to this world bringing Magick to it’s people, long Before the Paecian breed with Zabrak to create what was more commonly known as the Dathomiri, long before the Paecian Empire came to conquer this world, Even before the Kwa the true indigenous race of this world had come out of their tribal state the Celestials had watched over this world. They had built the infinity gates powerful gateways to new worlds. The energy these gates alone could wipe a world from existence. Though the gates that resembled pyramids had laid dormant for millennia now, they were still a site to behold if you knew where they were buried. They were a sign this old world was bless by the Gods themselves.


This world was full of so much history, and today was no different another would be conqueror came to claim what did not belong to them. Khaos had to wonder who sold them out this time, probably the same old enemy. The ones who sold them to the Jedi and then to the sith, always forcing the witches to bend a knee. The days of the Dark Coven were long gone, the days when Dathomir was truly feared. The time when Dathomir truly stood on its own and it was the one burning and invading words.


Khaos knew very little of Pom Stych Tivé the witch, but she knew the coven she was a part of and the Dark Coven Opposed it. The Dark Coven would never kneel to the Sith and let them lord over them like peasants. If the Dark Coven would have survived there would never have been a surrender to the Sith Empire or any other Empire for that matter. The Dark Coven would have burned and destroyed this world rather then let someone else have it. Yet like with all thing’s empires fall and so did the Dark Coven it scattered to the winds, now its members were so far apart and out of reach of one another. Dathomir had seen it’s day and it was glorious but the true protectors and rulers the Dark Coven were gone.

​

Khaos got off the Horse she was ridding and looked out across the rocky red sand crags as the wind blew through them howling like the wolves. She hoped she could find them, her people and her aunt Ryn Starfall . Though they had chosen to stay on Dathomir and fight the sith and witches that sided with them as best they could they had to become more nomadic stay moving and stay hidden. Her orange eyes scanned the Crags she was near the original village though no one remained there she knew they had to be close by ever since the sith empire had been defeated, it would only make sense for them to start to migrate back home.


It was then the hairs stood up on the back of her head, she was being watched. She canned harder but couldn’t see anyone in her immediate surroundings. “Needle is bantha poo, bloody iron arse will kill everyone before I find my junky aunt.” She muttered to herself still trying to figure out where the feeling of being watched was coming from.