Dominion Vinum Sabbathi | The Scourging of Dathomir | NIO

[Konrad Harrsk]

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

"If ever there was a time for you to be useful, it's now!" she yelled at Konrad as she soldiered through the stars that had started to dance in front of her vision.

A shady smirk curved his lips. For all the deception he had been taught to utilize as an assassin, Konrad remained true to one thing and one thing only - himself.

"It's not me it's chasing." he shrugged, "I sincerely hope your dress has been tailored for sprints."

She was out of breath, a streak of blood running down her lips from the extensive strain of using the Force. Fodder, perhaps, perhaps not. Auria had some odd way of clawing herself to survival. Almost like a cockroach. Fascinating, really.

For what it's worth, Konrad did act but not visibly. A sick prank only capable to be conjured in his mind. Fiddling with a mine concealed beneath his cloak, he set its pressure to match the rancor's weight rather than Auria's and subtly hurled it in her way. She'd not trigger it - too light, the rancor on the other hand...guts would fly.

"Run, Auria, run!" cackling.

This was almost as fun as one of his favorite pastimes - reading the blandest works of philosophy or chemistry existing in the galaxy.

 

[Rurik Fel]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
SOVEREIGN IMPERATOR
BYOO | MATTERS OF STATE
Iron Skin | Lightsaber
Enlil

​

Such was the crux of it all. To abolish individualism in favor of the state. It was the pinnacle belief of Imperial ideology and ruling principles. The whole was greater than the self and the collective could accomplish a great deal more than any man or woman could alone. It was a singular path that had many variable ways of traveling it, increasing its sentiment in a New Imperial Order that to this point had been all but an authoritarian confederation of worlds binding themselves in agreement to a central power.

"The consolidation of our Imperial fiefs will occur. It is a necessary evolution that need be taken for our state. The question is a means of how, the rising external threats will justify the tightening of command with time." Rurik stated. A vague response, but one befitting of the Man of Iron.

Then came the matter not of the Empire itself, but the Galactic Powers around them. As the threat of the Maw grew, the long standing pillars of order and light did not seem as reliable as they once were. If...they ever were. Recent defeats certainly would call into question the true effectiveness of the Bastion Protocols and how it worked cohesively with one another. It...simply had failed to to this point. Short, tactical successes often saw larger scale strategic failures until Coruscant, when all the light shining together did not seem bright enough to drown out the darkness.

"We stand at our highest when we are alone." Whether that seemed to be a projection of Rurik's self unto the Empire as a whole, or his objective truth as he saw it...a question of interpretation.

"The Jedi...are not the undivided force they were in the past. The Third Imperial Civil War certainly showed the deepening schisms between them all. Pride. Ego. Inflation of worth in ones self endless questioning of virtues have driven them to nigh civil war with one another. They are all but children, in my eyes. To bind the fates of our Empire and its people with these degenerates might very well bring about our fall. As if it will be much longer that their sights are set unto us. When the Darkness Falls, they will forget the noble knights who'd slain the beast in favor of adding more to their cults and covens. The Alliance can not endure a war in their homelands, democracies crumble under such a weight. The Republics of old, the Galactic Alliances all show this. Only Empire can mold steel from the fires, democracies melt. When the Maw emerged in Coruscant, they found a battle half won already and our soldiers died as a result of their division. The Jedi, the Republics they prop up...will not be our allies much longer." Rurik states, eventually moving to stand himself from the seat.

"They can attempt to enforce any bereavement they wish to. The Bastion Accords were drawn by the Imperator's hand and by the Imperator's hand they will be shredded. If they wish to approach any renewed diplomacy, they will come to Ravelin and address me in person or they will wallow on their soapboxes in their smoldering Senate Hall. The choice is theirs." Rurik concluded.

 

[Omari Cardon]

OBJ 1
Aemilio Valaar

ECHO-4
​

"The all clear has not been given, Sergeant. Any other planet, and that helmet in your hands wouldn't fit on your head. Put it on, until I say otherwise."

He stared into the face of the helmet, acknowledging the details of the helmet before giving into the order and placing the helmet firm on his head. It sat a bit uncomfortably and the loss of one of the eyepanels messed with his vision slightly. Although he wanted to just throw his helmet on the ground, he would follow a direct order. He took the sling of his rifle off of his shoulder and used two hands to support his rifle. He was ready to continue.

As their situation occurred, the regular troopers assigned to different Stormtrooper companies had started to follow behind them and cover the rest of the Compound. They carried out defensive maneuvers, arrested the Nightbrothers and Nightsisters who happened to surrender, and killed those who didn't. The Hands slowly filed out of the compound as more and more stormtroopers took over their positions. As Omari came out, he shielded his eyes from the red lighting of the sky aided with the floodlights the NIO had set up to help with the transports. The group had been summoned for a debriefing under a tent lef by a captain who had little words for them but all the words for the LT. Omari and the others sat still as they went over what happened, what could've been done better and what was done right. He had heard all of these words repeated as it the same for the Hands. They rarely met failure. They followed procedure to the letter and margin for error was minimal. A few slip-ups could occur but they were rarely seen. As for the Sergeant, all of the talking gave him a headache.

Once the debrief was over, it was time for them to get the hell off Dathomir. When the transport had arrived to take them back, Omari wasted no time getting on. At that point, all of his bones ached in agony. He had bruises all over his body. His white, clean looking armor had deteriorated into a broken mess of red stained plates held together by a bodysuit and chest rig. Blood painted his face and fists. He didn't even notice until now, the smell of drying blood had started to give off a funky smell. All the more reasons to leave. He set his rifle down in the rack and took his seat. After strapping himself in, he took a look at his helmet once more, staring into it more deeply this time. Through the lenses he saw the reflection of himself. He saw both versions of the same man, one of which who was a respected Sergeant of the New Imperial Order, calm, collected , strategic, and ambitious, and the other being a savage being with animal like instincts, locked up in a cage prevented from leaving. He had always acknowledged one, but not the other. But that's what war does. It brings to life what twisted, dark, crazy, and beautiful thoughts one may have and puts it in front of them for them to see at face value. Sometimes its haunting, sometimes its refreshing. Depends on how hard the battle gets.

"Cardon."

The Staff Sergeant had called his name a couple times before finally getting Omari to break out of the trance with his helmet. Omari gave him a confused look before replacing it with a more serious one.

"As soon as we hit back, you need to see the medical bay. Some of those bruises don't look too good," the Staff Sergeant said.

"Yeah," Cardon replied back. "I'll take shower there too."

"You better. Tired of smelling that stench," Sarge said as he jokingly pinched his nose and waved in front of his face. Omari did nothing but put his head back and threw his helmet to the side. Soon after, all of the Black Hands would be loaded up and the transport would take off.

 

[Waymar Dathrohan]

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

WITCHFINDER
​

The Knight Paladin hoped for battle, yearned for the chivalric glory of crusade. On Dathomir, his desires were paid due. He managed a swift riposte in furious reprisal to the Night Sister who struck him. Argent blade forcing her weapon up and away from her abdomen before thrusting the silver saber into core, following through with his newly minted cybernetic left hand pressing into the pommel of the saber as he drove it through her pale flesh. He looked straight into her dying eyes as he followed through the coup de grace. In those surreal moments of locking gazes with another who saw the waning seconds of their final stretch, another Night Sister was on him, warned only by the audible queue by the Witch whom he was seconds away from judging the fate of moments before. He wrenched the argent blade from his skull and turned to clash the silver blade with crimson once more as he stared into another vitriolic pair of eyes, bright golden in its dark corruption.

He threw his weight into the blade in the hopes of sending her back before he surged forward and slammed his heavy metal cybernetic fist into her abdomen in the hopes of stunning her in place, just in time for his circumstantial ally to come to his aid. He swiped an upward cut geared toward the Night Sister's chest to send her toward Amaya in the hopes of Vollmund being able to execute her. As soon as she was slain, his placid visor locked with those eyes of serpentine emerald before snapping toward the next nearest adversary.

'He owed her' she claimed.

<"Your judgement remains unchanged, Witch."> He iterated before surging toward the next Night Sister, swiping his cybernetic, heavy metal arm toward the crimson saber swinging toward him to bat it away before he cut the blade toward her neck, her head falling to the ground before them in gorey revelry before he turned back to Amaya.

<"You're Imperial now..."> He iterated in follow through with his nigh threat moments before.

 

[Enlil]

The Roles we Play

​

Fel was more forthcoming than Enlil anticipated, but for all that he offered, he withheld more. Trust was a precious resource in the upper Echelons of the New Imperial Order, and what trust he had with the former Imperator did not carry over to the man standing before him. That was plain to see, now. His advice was an afterthought to the Man of Iron, an idle consideration rather than a practical alternative point of view. There was no room for frivolous, extraneous ideas.

He now better understood what shape his role began to take. Dathomir would burn. Other worlds would follow. Rurik Fel had greater concerns. At the prospect of leaving foreign affairs to Fel, he stood silent for a moment. Much and more of their dealings with other Galactic powers fell to him while Tavlar took active measures in the war against the Sith Imperials. It seemed that Fel intended to take a more involved approach. He had a more commanding presence.

In the end, he told Enlil what he intended, and had no intention of asking for perspective. The Vizier took a deep breath. Impetuous, perhaps, but Fel was not wrong. Not all leaders were men of the people.

"You have my support," he said at last. "I will follow as an example of the change to come, then, and submit a formal petition to change my position from Warlord to Moff, ceding control of Ketaris."

Fel was a man who spoke in actions rather than words. Enlil could pontificate for hours and his words would not break through the man's frigid shell. Instead, the burden fell upon him to prove his loyalty.

"I have no interest in anything but the law, and in order." He spoke in no uncertain terms now, his voice unwavering as he met Fel's gaze again. "I will advise when you ask it of me, and if you command me, I will see it done."

No more was Enlil a King. From the chaos of time, of space, of a Galaxy thrust into eternal conflict, Rurik Fel had risen. There was no room for method actors or power players. For Order to exist, Enlil had to become something else.

He bowed.

Rurik Fel

 

[Auria Blackmoore]

TAG: Konrad Harrsk

O~~>LEVIATHAN<~~O​

She should have left that day on the way back from Lao Mon.

She should have known that moment of humanity she had seen, was but a ploy to mould her into a pawn for his elaborate schemes. He didn't consider anyone as more than cannon fodder.

Which meant she was well and truly alone.

The forces she usually tapped into had reached their current limit but the beast was still coming. The instinct for survival had Auria reaching for something she had only reached for once before in her life.

Darkness seeped in through the cracked door of the Force she wielded and ever so slowly, she drew strength from it. The flames she peppered the ever advancing rancor with, intensified slightly. Just then, her eye caught the mine that landed in front of the rancor.

"Run, Auria, run!" cackling.

She had no time. No time to even shoot him a glare, nevermind run. Fire ceased and a barrier was thrown up in its place just as the rancor stepped on the mine. The barrier served it's purpose to shield her from spattering gore, but the force of the blast knocked her straight back on her ass.

When all meaty pieces have stopped raining from the sky, Auria released the barrier and scrambled tiredly to her feet. Stumbling slightly, she then straightened up and squared her shoulders, regarding Konrad for a moment.
"Thank you for your assistance." she said coldly and not exceptionally grateful, the Darkness still lingering. "I'll leave you to your solo conquest, then, Master Harrsk. I'll be at the landing zone." she continued just as coolly before she started to walk back the way they had come. She would not be used as a mere tool to get what he wants.

She was too proud to be considered cannon fodder to an entitled caveman.

 

[Marcad]

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

He did not expect Aenarion's next trick with the wire wrapping around his left leg and a sudden surge of electricity shocking his whole body. He screamed in pain from the voltage, steam rising from his leg as the electricity continued to course through him and was on all fours. Enough voltage to stun, not kill anyone; therefore, weaker compared to Force Lightning that only those that practiced the dark arts of the Force could perform such display of power.

He was angry, and every moment that passed fed to that pestilence. Pain and anger were drawn upon to manifest power within him. It was a mistake for him to come here, there was nothing within his power to control himself from falling this low.

"GAAAAARGH!"
​

With sudden instincts to escape this hold, his arms stretched out with open palms and sent out a powerful repulse to knock back the White Cloak. Hopefully enough to escape from the wire and do what he must, before anymore interruptions; that being to massacre the village and all within...indiscriminately.

 

[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

The eolectroshock cable did its job. The Mirialan was writhing in pain and the White Cloak cut the cable, jettisoning it from the launcher as he straightened up to his feet. The Inquisitor's were versed in internal protection and investigation, Aenarion knew. How could Knight Ara truly think that he posed a chance against him? Even if he was only a Knight Errant. His experience boasted that he may as well have been Knighted already.

Close proximity, Aenarion could sense him drawing in the Force... Not just the Force, the Dark Side to empower him. He hefted his blade, didn't even bother covering his ears as the Inquisitor deafened him.

He shut his eyes though, physically, as if the lack of visual sensory would let him control his pain better.

He used the Force to see instead.

Though his slipping into the Sight was too slow. The Force Repulse struck him, and knocked him back before he could neuter the attack.

Hitting the ground, he rolled over himself before he stuck his hand out.

"Enough, Ara. You have had ample warning."

Out of sorts, Aenarion made a move to deaden his senses, to bring the Inquisitor's nervous system to a complete halt as he cast the Force Stun. Pushing himself up to his feet, he continued to channel it, to ensure that he remained unmoving as he enforced his will on the Knight.

 

[Mav Ryburn]

DATHOMIR
OPERATION: BLACK SABBATH
FORWARD POST THESH: Threat Neutralized
NISA 6th Training Group
Armor Support: Corporal Knight
​

"We're losing him!"
"Shut up, no we're not. He's falling asleep."

"Hey who's got bacta? This guy's hemorrhaging."
"Just give me some kolto, nngh, it's not that bad. Save bacta for someone on death's door-"
"Yeah, that'd be you, moron. Now can it, and hold still..."​

"I need an open cot, people! Now!"
"Here, I'll move, give 'im mine."​

"Give it to me straight; how bad is it?"
"All I'll say is, if you thought you were ugly before..."
"Oh, oh yeah? Think that's funny? Hey, someone hand me my blaster real quick."
"Put your helmet back on, I don't wanna hafta see it."

"It was that damn sniper."
"Shh, it's ok."
"H-he was right next to me, and then he-"
"Trooper..."
"He was just... damn it all."
"It's ok."​

"Oh karabast."
"I know, looks like the wound's magic. Get me the bacta."
"No, not that! I had no idea 823 was a girl."
"How are you scandalized by this after the last 2 hours?!"
"I'm not, it's just... I dunno, should I go get Seera?"
"Great idea. You go find her, while I sit here trying to keep 823 from bleeding out."
"Ok, ok! Feth, just tryna be respectful."
"Tell ya what; if she ever wakes up, I'll apologize for putting my hands on her chest to save her life, and then we can thank her for saving both our asses out there."
"...."
"...."
"...I hope she makes it."
"Yeah. Me too, man."​

---

"<This is NISA 6th Training Group, Forward Post Thesh. We have casualties, multiple wounded, and are scraping by on medical supplies. Requesting reinforcement.>" "Hey Ryburn! Anything?"

Seeing another squad leader approaching, Mav flung the commlink receiver away in disgust. "Every dedicated channel is overrun. Apparently the Singing Mountain interrogation post was attacked out of nowhere during normalization. They can't get ahold of the Knight-Paladin who was in command."

The squad leader shook his head. "Karabast..." "Yeah, Comm Control's losing their minds over it. The surveillance is just as insane; scouts saying they saw two Force Knights hacking away at each other, scouts calling in sounding totally crazy screaming about ghosts and gods, or just checking in to confirm a rancor sighting. Y'know. Normal stuff." He sighed wearily, and turned to glance into the mostly-intact hut that had been made into the medcenter. Overlapping voices gave snippets of insight into the men and women he now found himself leading.

With a little help, of course. He grunted at the other trooper, "Sorry, I already forgot, was it TT-343?"
"Don't sweat it, I'm Kosh. Squad 2. Hey, d'you know what Corporal Knight's up to?"
"Last I knew he was on the edge of the perimeter. Not sure if he's patrolling, chasing down more of those bastards, or if he's got someplace to be. As for me, I'm hoping he sticks around all week."

"Noooo," Kosh groaned, "please don't remind me this assignment is another 9 days. I feel like we landed a year ago."
"Apparently the Black Hands are already off-world. Job well done, hitting the showers-"
"Shut up, I don't wanna hear that. Feth. I could smack a Black Hand right now."
"Ha! Yeah right. Ok wow, I'm exhausted."
"Did you eat?"
"Later. I'm gonna keep tryna hail Comm Control."
"Right, I'll check in with our patrols then."
"Keep your eyes open."
"Back at you."
"<This is NISA 6th Training Group...>"