Dominion Who Will Save The World | Dominion of Nyriaan | NIO

[Jaeger Harrsk]

E M P I R E _ R I S I N G
New Imperial Order​

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N Y R I A A N: T H E _ N I O _ E X P E R I E N C E
WHO WILL SAVE THE WORLD

I am too young to die.​

In 864 ABY, amidst the devastating Third Imperial Civil War, the NEW IMPERIAL ORDER has deployed a small peacekeeping and counter-insurgency task force ROTA 9 on the tropical world. The move had come after the ignition of a civil war on the planet two years prior which has destabilized the NIO frontier.

The two belligerents engaged in the NYRIAAN CIVIL WAR are the pro-New Imperial NYRIAN CONCORD government and the POLITORO (Popular Front for the Liberation of Tor'Ont). The insurgency has come after series of strikes and revolts among miners on Tor'Ont who were not satisfied with the working conditions, nor with the heavy bureaucracy essentially redtaping any form of competition to a certain circle of companies, all direct and indirect subsidiaries to the TRADE FEDERATION.

Questions have arisen among the ROTA 9 task force stormtroopers over why the Stormtrooper Corps has so far rejected deploying a larger force to sweep the insurgency. The latter citing the on-going Third Imperial Civil War as a reason. Suspicion arises further when rumors are spread of COMPNOR activity with local crime lords dealing with the production and export of the famed Nyriaan spice.

OBJECTIVE I //: HILL 3234

You find yourself as part of task force ROTA 9, all green soldiers, holding Hill 3234 as a hill strong point overlooking and essentially cutting off POLITORO supply lines. Outgunned and heavily outnumbered by a sudden horde of POLITORO insurgents storming the hill, and with ammunitions and troopers running low fast, you have to survive the tempest until reinforcements arrive.

If they do at all.

OBJECTIVE II //: MADILON GAMBIT

As our brethren quell the insurgent threat elsewhere on the planet, the ORDER OF THE IMPERIAL KNIGHTS has been called into service by their Sovereign-Imperator. Given NYRIAAN'S strange atmospheric interference on the force, we have approached an unmarked mine from the ground said to hold a wealth of the alloy, madilon. If used in the construction of a hyperdrive, it decreases its size, and in turn, the material costs in its construction. It is crucial the IMPERIAL KNIGHTS size the planet's stores of madilon and captures the mine used to harvest the alloy. It is believed a rebel cell currently controls the mine, so expect a fight.

OBJECTIVE III //: LOOSE LIPS, LOOSE HEADS

KAP PATARI, a high-ranked insurgent leader in the hierarchy of the POLITORO has been investigating COMPNOR'S activities with the NYRIAAN SPICE trade and, specifically, their involvement in the ignition of the civil war on the planet. His clique and his clout over the movement has safeguarded him so far from attempts on his life by fellow comrades.

This ends now. As a COMPNOR operative, you are tasked with assassinating KAP PATARI whose last location has been a small settlement east of TOR'ORONT. Expect unarmed civilians and well-prepared combatants. While there are no rules of engagement, keeping the operation discrete is paramount.

OBJECTIVE IV //: BYOO

Whatever gets you to write, chief.

// SETPIECES //:
> NYRIAAN

 

[Errant]

"I was always a solitary man."​

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Tags: Open​

Errant stood away from his white-armored brethren. The black plate strapped into place over his alabaster skin only further deepened the divide. His sins were common knowledge to the Order. They knew his greatest failure, his shame, steeped in the blood of their brethren, all in the name of lust. Passion warped his mind. It made him a slave to the call of the greatest evil, the dark side—a Sith no less. Bogan took the form of a beautiful woman. She came to him and made him feel what no others had before. Her touch was gentle, loving, even. There was no shame in their nights spent together. Death and battle numbed them to the pain of the galaxy, but in one another's arms, they found comfort.

Those feelings died on Bastion. Slain by the Albino just after he took the lives of his fellow Imperial, and of course, Vella herself. He should've known better. All of Errant's training was supposed to prepare him for the war, yet he fell short of those vows sworn in deference. Now he paid the price. The once Knight-Errant marched ahead of an Order that spurned him. If death found the Order today, it would first take the traitor, as decreed by the Empire.

He ripped the mighty Sith blade out of its scabbard. Metal scraped against metal, echoing around him as he strode through the entrance to the mine. His weapon reflected the iridescent white lights affixed to the rocky walls. He stared silently at the row of rebels with weapons trained on him. Perhaps they expected fear. No sane man would look death in the face without so much as a twitch. His stoic mask remained unchanged. The Albino hefted his weapon in one hand and raised the other in time to greet a swarm of red-hot plasma that flashed through the tunnels.

A barrier took form between Errant and his assailants. The blaster fire thumped harmlessly against the translucent surface, the ongoing noise a clear-cut signal that battle had begun. When other Knights trailed in behind him, taking up a position on either side to engage the Rebel, he dropped the barrier and threw himself into the fight with a mighty roar.

His weapon flashed, a stream of crimson followed suit. The first of the Rebel fell, their head thudding to the ground a second after their body.

 

[Tulan Kor]

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NEW IMPERIAL ORDER STORMTROOPER CORPS
://: SPECIAL OPERATIONS ://:
://: COMMANDER KOR, TULAN://:
"DEMON COMPANY"

WHO ELSE, BUT ME


Who else in the galaxy would be at Hill 3234?

Who else but Tulan Kor?

Foxholes, trenches, barbed wire and sandbags. Sometimes Tulan was doing clandestine operations, deep-insert reconnaissance missions or risky assaults on mountaintop fortresses. But now- along with many other Stormtroopers, he was fighting for his life. He did it like he always did- no helmet. Olive-drab fatigues helped him blend in the jungle, but they offered little protection against the onslaught of insurgents coming towards them.

The green, fresh-faced recruits were under the tutelage of Tulan, who was trying his best himself not to be terrified of the prospect of dying in a hailstorm of blaster fire from a bunch of under-trained and under-equipped locals. But for now, Tulan was the last of three, who had once been twenty. They had to make their way roughly 200 meters through friendly lines, but for now, the three were face-down in the mud, letting the insurgents think them dead. Local language was a dialect he did not speak, but he knew the conversation.

Gather the enemy equipment, and push ahead. Stormtroopers carried a lot of gear they didn't have. Gear that if pointed back at the stormtroopers, they'd be in for a bad day. Tulan had to make a move fast. One came over to him, grabbing him by the shoulder and rolling over.

Hold your breath.

Don't blow out the nose. Just stop breathing.

Has to be a single motion.

The Elomin grabbed his olive-drab webbing, trying to remove the few grenades and blaster charge packs he had left. Tulan opened his eye as soon as the Elomin's focus was away, and reached up. It was a struggle from that point on. He shoved his face in the mud, trying to prevent screaming. They were both concealed by the fauna, so the struggle would go visually unnoticed for the time being, but sound would give away the struggle right away. Pushing his knee down and digging it into the side of the Elomin's horned face, Tulan dug it in, pushing the rifle up and away, out of the Elomin's hands.

Most of the time, in the movies, books, and games, they'd go straight for the neck when attacking an enemy sentry. In reality, sentry removal wasn't about killing the guy first and outmost, it was mainly also about making sure he couldn't make a noise. Someone with a slit throat could still have the possibility to scream.

Someone who got a punch-knife shoved in their lungs couldn't. The Elomin reached around, panicking.

Tulan covered the whimpering underground-dwelling alien's mouth with his hand, then stabbed him three more times, before turning his head and stabbing him in the back of the head, severing his spine. The process was ardous, and the man was fighting the whole time. Size was not on Tulan's size, and most of the enemy was taller than he was. Panting, he whispered at the two other junior stormtroopers to get up.

In order to save the men at Hill 3234, the three men would have to stage a hasty ambush, and cut off the enemy assault for the time being. And time, equipment, the weather, the environment, ammunition, and numbers were not on their side. But the willpower and capacity for violence was all that someone needed to be successful in combat. And time and time again, Tulan had proven himself a man to beat the odds, and today was going to be no different.

Just another day at the office.

Covered in mud, blood, and sweat, the jungle-fatigue clad Tulan crept towards the bottom of the hill, determined to make it back to friendly lines.

​

 

[Willan Tal]

OBJECTIVE II //: BYOO
Brigadier General Willan Tal
1st Galidraani armoured infantry volunteer brigade
Tags: Tulan Kor Errant Jaeger Harrsk

"What's the situation on hill 3234?"


"Troops surrounded by insurgent forces on all sides estimates hard to say but likely in the low hundreds sir."

He had scoffed initially. How did they enable themselves to get surrounded? What was the Imperial army training centers pushing out these days? It hardly seemed credible that they'd allow themselves to get surrounded like that by a gang of desert dwellers. Boys as green grass trapped on a hill in dire need of aid. Though his lads were unlikely to get there and change the outcome, he could still grant aid in the form of artillery support.

But then Tal had smiled grimly and remembered Gladius companies encirclement at Helgard. His boys had to mount a rescue offensive to break the blockade around them and further push the Helgardi into the city. He couldn't let these green boys die for the mistakes of Imperial command. Not when Willan still had tools at his disposal. ​

"Patch me through to whoever is in charge; I want coordinates if we're gonna blast these karks to hell and back."​

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[Kainan]

Obj 2

"You must fight with your unit, if you intend to keep on living, Kainan."

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Errant
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Alone he stood, Kainan observed, silver hilt hilt in hand whilst his other clasped his wrist.

The Crestfallen, Kainan thought. The first of their Order.

Where once he would've only felt frost, now he felt a warmth. The responsibility of duty, of brotherhood. To be apart of something that he had bled for, killed for. Seeing the Crestfallen, one of their Order who had done the same and had strode off the path... There was no sense of betrayal there. Kainan knew, or rather, believed there was resentment for his actions. To be considered one of their brotherhood again... Kainan saw it.

And he strode forwards first, to join the Echani, the sounds of the battle beginning mere moments later.

Bolts of energy lanced out at their vanguard, and a shimmering field absorbed them. Behind him, other Knights trudged in to realize the same. Kainan extended a hand out to Errant, onto his shoulder. A voice so quiet, Kainan was uncertain if he had even spoken, or if it were solely a thought.

"Together."

And when the Force Barrier collapsed, Kainan lurched forwards, silver beam of plasmatic energy plunging bursting to life at his side. The Force carrying him into the midst of the tunnel dwelling rebels in a second. And without hesitation, he attacked with a honed brutality that was fitting for him as a Sith turned to the cause of the Imperial.

 

[Velok Brokentusk]

OBJECTIVE 2
Errant Kainan

Now, Velok 'Brokentusk' the Youngest had near-zero interest in madilon, Nyriaan, or the local rebellion. And he nurtured no particular grudge against the New Order, having thrown in his lot with the Lords of the Sith over the dying Empire. He did, however, find barbecuing an Imperial Knight extremely interesting. Well, testing himself against one of these Sith-killers primarily - but the barbecue would be sweet.

Savory, too: his utility belt loadout included steak spice.

To business.

Velok lurched out of a side passage, dropping a Rebel-slash-snack with a juicy thud. His weapon this fine day was appropriate to the cave system's confines and the prospect of facing a potential lightsaber-user: a sharp-edged cortosis shield along each forearm, extending past elbow and fist.

In a main chamber of the caves, he straightened to his full height. His eyes brightened at the sight of two Imperial Knights. He took a deep breath and roared fire past his rune-carved, silver-capped, broken tusks. An expanding fireball rushed toward them.

 

[Hans Rennagen]

Objective II: Madilon Gambit
Allies: Errant | Kainan
Enemies: Velok Brokentusk | Ghoul of Moridinae
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Every breath of Nyriaan's air sent a strange, unsettling feeling through Hans' body. All the knights had been informed of the planet's force-warping atmosphere, but what exactly that meant he didn't know. He wasn't eager to find out either. It looked like they'd be going in with just their weapons to cleanse the mine of insurgents.

Hans marched in the vanguard as was becoming the norm, only behind the newest Knight Kainan... and Errant Varanin. Both names that were known widely. No one questioned Kainan's right to be at the forefront of this operation. Every knight had heard of his valiance on Bastion.

It was Errant, leading far in the front, that Hans was more worried about. A pariah returned to the fold. Hans never thought he would serve next to the first Crestfallen, let alone follow him into battle.

The rebels were waiting for them at the entrance of the mine as expected. Before Hans could even motion to propose a plan, Errant was inside. After his failure at Dantooine... after what happened to Jin... Hans had been taking great care to stop the recklessness of his brothers. But Errant was not one of them. He still couldn't figure out if the brooding Echani was at the front so he could prove himself, or if he was hoping for the quickest death. Hans welcomed either outcome.

The rebels went down quickly under Kainan and Errant's blade. As Hans closed the gap and caught up with them, a beast burst from the side-passage without a warning. It dwarfed all of them, and reeked of death.

"Get Back!
​

He yelled to his fellows as the fireball welled up in the beast's mouth. He swung his shield high up from his side to connect with the fireball. As it impacted his shield, the fireball broke and licked flames off every side of the shield. The heat was overwhelming, and the force of it knocked Hans from his feet, throwing him backwards into the rest of the knights. His shield fell atop him, almost entirely scorched, the heraldry of his house turned to black.

He groaned as two other knights helped him to his feet. The fall was nothing that his armour wouldn't protect against. He could perhaps expect a bruised back, but things like that were becoming more common by the day.

As he stood to stare the beast in the eyes, he realized the strange feeling in the force may not have been just the atmosphere...

 

[Areyon]

A R E Y O N
OBJECTIVE 2
Gear: Lightsaber Pike, Armor

The Omega Guard, his brothers, were not with him on this day.

Yet, he was still surrounded by family.

The quarry that lay before the knights had been the assignment they were given. The madilon inside of the mine was to be secured with great haste before the Sith could get their dirty, blood-ridden hands on it. Areyon personally did not have a care for the hyperdrive material, yet his loyalty to NIO still beckoned him to be here. It was his duty to serve, and so he would complete the objectives set without hesitation.

The Crestfallen stood before all of them and it was frankly a strangle feeling to Areyon to witness such a sight. He knew little of the story behind his betrayal, yet he knew of his great resolve to serve the Imperial Knights as he himself had. From that single aspect alone, they shared a bond. They have not spoken to each other at all, yet they still had respect for one another. It was a very interesting ordeal.

The rebel cell that lay inside stood their grind behind small fortifications and traps that would leave regular foes trouble to deal with. The Imperial Knights, however, were different. Petty reinforcements to the mine would be nothing but a minor inconvenience for them. Following behind the rest of the group, Areyon held his pike steady. Although taking care of a small rebellion would be quick, it still posed a slight threat.

The Echani who led from the front and another Knight right beside him cleared out the rebel threat with ease. They stood no chance, it was almost too brutal to see such quick defeat. But another danger made its presence well known. A tall creature who bore the stink of the Dark Side stood near a side-passage and released a fireball of great intensity towards the group. Areyon had no cover of his own, but his fellow Knight Rennagen held steady against the mass of flame. He took his opportunity to shield behind him and as he was pushed back Areyon fell with him. He got back up on his feet quickly and held his lightsaber pike in a more firm manner.

On such short notice, the challenge would grow in scale.

KNIGHT GANG: Hans Rennagen | Kainan | Errant
ENEMIES: Velok Brokentusk

 

[Darth Perfidiae]

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D a r t h _ P e r f i d i a e

| Location | The Madilon Mines, Nyriaan​

| Objective | Steal Madilon​

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Perfidiae glanced down at the mining operation from the observation deck built above the mine shaft, her hands clasped in front of her as she glanced over at the rebel leader who had taken control and occupied the mine. Under her guise as Loraya Nox, Perfidiae had planned to take possession of the Madilon stores on Nyriaan, though such plans were made exceedingly more difficult to perform with the arrival of the New Imperial Order who came in force. The Echani woman would turn around to face the leader of the rebel cell and their accompanying security detachment as she spoke.​

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Haze. That's all the rebel leader could feel as his mind seemed to shift, having fallen under the influence of Perfidiae's mind control. He stared at the Echani woman, caught completely off guard by the fact that she was a Force Sensitive, and a Sith at that. He was helpless to resist the alluring words that came from her lips like spidersilk, caught in her web as he subconsciously agreed to her every demand. A once proud rebel now made the slave of a Sith - it was poetic were it not so tragically easy.​

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Her voice and words rang through his head clearly, cutting through the haze that his mind had been flooded with, to which he was drawn to like a moth to a flame, " You will arrange as many transports as you can with Madilon." He was unable to say no, his mind and body instinctively agreeing with her, " I will arrange transports for Madilon... " Her voice continued on, giving him orders as he remained enthralled, " You will fight the New Imperial Order because they came to exploit you, your people, and your resources. " - " I will fight the New Imperial Order... Because they came to exploit us... " - " You will die for your Mistress. " - " I will die for you Mistress... "​

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With that her orders had been done as she gestured for the rebel leader to depart from the room. As soon as the rebel leader left the room, he snapped from his haze, yet everything he had agreed to stuck to his subconscious as he began distributing orders to carry them out, believing them to be his own. Perfidiae turned back to the viewport as she reached under her black robes grabbing her mask as she raised it up to her face, now donning her personality as Darth Perfidiae. For the time being she kept her presence hidden, preferring to try and vacate the Nyriaan system without much hassle along with whatever Madilon she could gather, the presence of other Sith and the rebels likely drawing much of the attention.​

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But one could never be too careful, lest she gives away her identity.​

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[Darth Immortuos]

Location: Caves
Objective 2: Replenish the dead
Enemies: Errant Hans Rennagen Kainan
Warlord Squad: Velok Brokentusk Ghoul of Moridinae Darth Perfidiae
Muse

The was nothing of interest on Nyriaan for some amount of time. It was only the sudden occupation and move to conquer the world by New Imperial hands that interested Immortuos so much. Combined the Nyriaan populace with New Imperials was enough to replenish the Dark lords own army of the dead. A move the solidified his power and held the possibility of cementing a stronghold on the world.

But first, a conversion must occur...

With a violent pluck, a Nyriaan merc was heaved from his position and forced to levitate infront of his host. The visage of death itself loomed in front of the merc with a maw gaped wide. Two sulfuric eyes bright as suns glared back from the void of the Sith lords hood and into the mans very soul. The stench of years of decay came apon him in seconds. The Nyriaans nostrels expanded as the putrid air wafted into his respiratory system. Coughs and gags were produced. A volley of blaster fire erupted over the screaming Nyriaan merc. A living shield. His scream could be heard from within the cave for miles. A mixture of pain and raw terror.

Immortuos tilted his head an launched his mouth forward. Sharp teeth with ribbons of rotten flesh poised to drive into the side of the mans skull. That was exactly what occurred too. The scream intensified briefly before the lush liquids covered flesh. The fangs of Immortuos clamping into something hard. With a retching pop it suddenly broke and the contour of the Nyriaans head gave. The Nyriaans skull shattered. A crimson-black liquid covered the front of Immortuos's robes and now the floor.

Blood from an artery was bright red. This fact was not to be contested. On a molecular level the blood spilt was starting to change and physically to the naked eye to showed. The mottled mess that remained of the Nyriaan snack was sent forward carried on telekinetic strings by his puppeteer.. Three men were hit and the other two dodged to the side. The strange infected blood splashed apon them like a cold slap. " Ugghhh what the feth!" A merc uttered. With a blurr of speed the Sith Lord rushed down the tunnel followed by two skulls of hardened stone. Both of the objects levitated near him and could match his speed. Coming to a halting stop Immortuos took in the scene of Imperial knights combating Nyriaan mercenaries and now the likes of Velok the Youngest. A wave or hot and bright light engulfed the cave tunnel as it was spouted from the fellow sith.

Joining in on the carnage Immortuos let loose a scream, opening his mouth a red-ish hues of color began to emit. Up from his throat and sudden pushed into reality itself. The darkside of the force raw and pure in a focused beam of energy. Force blast. The power of such a force completely obliterating a single Imperial knight caught off guard. All that was left of the knight was a charred skeleton.

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Darth Immortuos was gone, but his intent was not. Back further down the tunnel where the corpse thrown, mutilated as much as it was, began to twitch. Shake and contort its body in ways that shouldn't be possible. With a oscillating shriek it was birthed into a new world and now had uttered the first of its words. The bite to the skull was a direct method of transmission for blackwing to spread and the infection had just begun. With reckless abandon the creature, who was once their friend, turned on the remaining Nyriaans and introduced them to a fate similar to its own. Wounds festering with The Sickness.

 

[Hiram Voss]

Location: Nyriaan Sector // NIV Exile
Objective: Operation Wellerman
Taskforce Exile
Subordinate Officer: Naier Rambeigh
W E L L E R M A N

Hiram strode cautiously across the deck of the Reprisal-Class destroyer. They were now closing on their target coordinates. The edge of Nyriaan space. It had been slow going as the fleet of New Imperial vessels lurched there at sublight speed. They were hunting now an enemy that was coming closer and closer to them. At least that's what the poachers the Grand Admiral had hired told them. The mission however was a little more unconventional than that. The poachers had gone silent, but their transponders had kept running. Leading Prefsbelt Command to believe the quarry they chased had been tagged. But had yet to be subdued. Typical.

"We're coming up on them now sir," Commander Hadrian Boars informed his superior, "Giving the pings we are getting, I dare say we're close to a tenth of a parsec away." Hiram gave a nod. They were making quite good time. Even if it was a grizzly business they were about to embark upon. "Vice Admiral, permission to speak frankly sir?" Hiram could sense it on the Commander's features, and gave him the silent nod to elaborate. "It feels a little beneath us, sir. If I may." The officer mused, "I mean, I remember my father, he told me that these creatures were... good luck. And now we're to..."

"We are to perform what is necessary to the Grand Admiral's plans." Hiram intruded, looking at him, "He is head of the navy. And he is able to dictate policy as he so wishes. Plus, this mission may be a boon. Free up our borderlands from these.... Creatures." The Vice Admiral paused, and then looked around for prying ears. "But I concur with you." He growled, "It only seems to bring a reckoning, doing what we're about to do." Boars nodded in response, and Hiram sighed, pressing forward through the command bridge. He starred down at the crew pits with enlisted men scurrying to their posts. Minding their own machinations and work.

"Vice Admiral!" A voice called from the starboard crewpit, "We have them now on scopes!" What a relief. Hiram craned his neck down to the console of the sensor team and gazed down onto it. The signal was drawing closer, and now identifiable. Fifteen. Fifteen of the bloody things. Eight juveniles, six adult. One 'king'. Perfect.

"Prioritise targetting on the King Purrgill." Voss snapped to his crew, "Aim for immobilisation." He then looked down, "Have Commodore Rambeigh launch his fighters, and a flanking manoeuvre to starboard. See if we can corral them." The Vice Admiral then turned to stare down the gunnery teams, "The Grand Admiral wants these things in as best shape as possible." He pointed a warning finger at the junior officers.

"Do not fail him."

 

[Dagon Kaze]

OBJECTIVE IV //: DYING SUN

It felt good to be back on his feet again. It felt good to be alive. Even if in the depths of his heart, a miniature scar faintly pulsated - it would have been better to have died on Ziost. The mark never fully grasped his heart but it was there, a gentle but distinct gash clawing. Enveloped around it was a newly found flame of conviction; it reflected only as a vague shade of zeal across his usually pacific blue eyes.

Nyriaan's humidity dropped as the temperature rose, the closer he shuffled through the jungle towards the sea. The salty breeze carried a whiff of tibanna and lilac indicating he was on the right track to the rendezvous point. Kaska Arden , Knight of the New Jedi Order and a native of this world. Dagon had only come to barely know her during the pilgrimage to Manaan, noting her ingenuity before their shared responsibility as Jedi had hurled them at the heart of the Bryn'adul, and then...Ziost.

His nearly lethal reunion with his brother had stowed him on a hoverchair and a self-imposed exile. Behind closed doors, no contact with the rest - taking Auteme's roles in the Senate briefly first, before fully submerging himself into the studies of the Force and history locked behind piles of holocrons. Had his recuperation taken any longer, Dagon believed he would've gone insane. Yet, the forced break felt necessary.

The Jedi emerged loudly from the thicket, scrubbing something from his rolled-sleeves jacket.

"Kept you waiting?" he threw an honest smile at her. Been a while, huh.

Their vantage point overlooked a large gulf below with numerous remains of an ancient starship dug within the ground. He didn't need to be a landscaping expert to notice it not as overgrown as it should've been given its age.

 

[Djorn Bline]

P U N I S H E D _ S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
NYRIAAN
ARUMED

There was no rest for a man like Djorn. Tireless and relentless for what he pursued for. That indomitable warrior within him was something that could never be suppressed, demanding for more. His disintegrated arm, now bionic, didn’t stop him from nor the defeat on Dantooine. So what could stop him?

Nothing.

Except the inevitable curtain of death that all faced, even to those that sought for immortality only to find a temporary method that couldn’t cheat death.

So back to doing wetwork. He had no plans of staying behind a desk job despite his position in COMPNOR. A man of his skills behind a desk? Relaxing, but he abhorred the idea. Work was done efficiently whenever he was deployed, and the results impressed the brass. COMPNOR had many interests at stake here in Nyriaan. While some operatives were tasked with only assassinating a political belligerent responsible for the insurgencies against the New Imperial Order, other agents had other matters to intend to. Intelligence was always a complex thing; a beast of its own with little to describe its operations. People were kept in the dark, and secrets hidden with lies.

Hell, not even Bline knew all the hidden truths when it came to clandestine operations.

But what he did know were the objectives and parameters of his mission.

Nyriaan was a diverse world with many organizations having a stake on the world due to its rich natural resources, even arguing what should belong to who and how much. The presence of the Imperials here already did enough to spark conflict, even though it was a small task force.

“You good on the assignment? Or do I have to waste time in explaining it again?”

Nima Appw'rii​

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

BLUE-HEART BATTALION

OBJECTIVE I: - Hill 3234

ALLIES: Jaeger Harrsk Willan Tal Tulan Kor Errant Hans Rennagen Kainan Areyon Hiram Voss

Being the closest battalion of Tal's brigade to the encirclement, Barran's Blue-Hearts were in the best position to test the strength of at least some of the buildings the Elohim were using for cover, but they needed to wait for the exact coordinates to push on without bringing accidental friendly-fire on the troops defending Hill 3234. Fortunately for the 2nd Battalion, patience was certainly one of Lord Erskine's virtues, especially in the many high-stakes moments in the storied life he'd lived by then. The Blue-Hearts had (for years) drawn strength from this steely, often cold-hearted patience of his, knowing their Lord-Major would yield them victories aplenty if they stayed the course with him.

'Just another waiting game, lads. When the final word rolls through fi the Lord-Commander, we'll be havin' a rare ol' time before y'know it.'

'Milord, permission to speak?', a young Leftenant asked, one that Barran recognised from the usual gaggle of subordinates who served under Captain Shugg, one such whom had twice been mentioned in the Blue-Heart radio-logs for valour-in-battle. 2nd-Leftenant Cowie was a quiet lad before, quite the antithesis to the deceased 1st-Leftenant Jorie, though every part as brave as the number he carried on his helm from Bastion. Heeding the request of one who'd obeyed his order to torture Kaleesh warriors for information, Lord Erskine nodded his assent and folded his arms in silence, as the lad stood to attention and muttered,'Ah know it's a bit off-topic, but is there any chance y'know where the next big deployment's gawnty be? Some o' the non-coms are talkin' mad bampot-theories aw'ready.'

'Sadly nout ah can dae about that, lad. At least no at the moment anyways.... Eerrr- Whit's your fethin' name, by the way?'

With a smirking snort of friendly derision, such that Erskine normally detested seeing in others, the lad then replied,'2nd-Leftenant Aron Gowrie, Milord. A-Company 2IC.', to find a mass of snarls and sneers bared all around him, with the whites of the Lord-Major's eyes showing wide-bared warning, knowing Gowrie had been serving under him long enough to be present for Leftenant Gloagg's blaster-pistol execution. The one thing that kept him from being shot was the fact his surname rang out as recognisable to Barran's recollection, and it seemed the smirk itself had endeared the 2nd-Leftenant to the Lord-Major, somehow reminding Erskine of his younger self as a Lord-Leftenant in Galidraan's land-army; back when the planetary cluster was still free of the intrigue that forced Barran into exile, back before the hairs started greying on his beard.

'So you're the Gowrie ah've been hearing occasional snippets about!', Erskine started, pausing to look at the additions to the lad's uniform-jacket for reference of what sort remained after the previous hostilities. Even in the night's gloom, the golden decorations of this officer's merit were easy to see in the dark, leaving hardly any dead-air between the outbursts as Barran continued,'Lord-Leftenant's thistle-pin, unit citations aplenty, an' ye were mentioned twice in RL's for valour if ah'm no mistaken; once on Bastion, an' once oan Helgard, the latter being an instance where ye saved my adjutant's life from a Helgardi rifleman. Shugg's second-in-command, doesn't shy from harsher duties, an' somehow we still haven't made acquaintances with each other yet. Don't know about anybody else here, but ah think you're either tryin' ti slip under the radar, or you've been playing the patience game better than anyone here.... Ah guess we'll just have t'see which rings truer in the following months, eh? Hope for your sake it's the latter, an' that's nae joke!'
​

​

 

[Konrad Bolter]

T Y R A N T
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
66th ARMORED COMPANY 'HELL'S HAMMERS'
XT-62 | MBTb 'Cataphracht'
Jaeger Harrsk | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Willan Tal

SWALLOWING DUST
​

Strike to kill. Words to live by in this line of work. In the New Imperial Order there was no more tenacious wielder of heavy mechanized metal than Konrad 'The Bastard' Bolter. Abrasive, unyielding. All the best traits for Imperial armor. Nyriaan was a familiar flavor as to what he'd been used to. The Hell's Hammers had been put through the gauntlet of anti-insurgency operations all through the New Imperial 'outlands' as it'd come to be known. In spite the grandiose projection of iron will that the New Order exuded there were still those pits of filth that needed the routine smack of the baton to retain order. Er'kit, Anobis, the work was never done.

"Didn't recall asking command for some meat for brains spike-head as my new driver." A Zabrak, replaced after his XT-60b which he'd been in command of since the onset of the Braxant campaign was knocked out in the defense of Bastion. A new vehicle came a new crew. The gunner, a human from Ord Mantell, he didn't seem to mind at all. He'd always gotten along with Mantellians, they were always as abrasive and cockish as he was. Zabraks were typically viewed pretty highly in the New Imperial strata. Konrad viewed barely anyone equal to himself was the only issue.

<"Apologies sir, I can ask for a new assign-"> The Zabrak piped up, bad tone to set under his new superior.

"Slag it, you'll do fine enough so long as you don't poke any fucking holes in my tank. Now get moving, Hill 3234. Our boys are stuck in a bind we have a hammer to drop. Double time it." Konrad commanded, pulling the view screen near his face before glancing to the gunner.

"Swap to high explosive, doubt there'll be much enemy armor we're tangling with but we get a couple good rounds off on target and these insurgent pricks will be turning tail, you'll see it, they always do. I don't give a damn what command says about 'political fanaticism', if they want to die for this piss stain planet, we'll make them." Konrad remarks.

<"Copy, swapping to HE."> The gunner replies. They still had some ground to cover.

 

[Arjant Clevenger]

H I E R O P H A N T
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
NYRIAAN
NIV ‘TREGESSAR’

Different age, but still the same fight. A fight he’s known for since his enrollment in the military. And here he was, seeing the same results from decades ago with a slight twist to the game. This time it was men of the Imperial dream conquering the Sith, a sect that had always been synonymous with men like him. Intriguing, but the fight wouldn’t end there. He would make sure the end was accomplished by any means necessary.

Any means.

Rules of engagement and ethics of war were foreign to him, long discarded from him years ago. All for absolute victory under the name of Imperialism, and he wasn’t alone in that pursuit. It’s why he appreciated and admired men such as the New Imperial’s (in)famous Grand Admiral, loved or abhorred depending on what side of the fence one was on. Insufferable and obnoxious to some, but he was steadfast and true like an iron blade piercing one’s heart.

“I believe the Grand Admiral is waiting for me. I’d rather not waste his time for whatever reason it is. Of course, not for my sake.”

A man’s reputation such as the Grand Admiral’s was something extremely hard to not take notice of. As legendary his talent was to commandeer vessels under his command, so was his short temper and insults he spared for anyone with the slightest bit of incompetence.

Caarlyle Rausgeber​

 

[Errant]

"I was always a solitary man."
​

Order of the Imperial Knights: Kainan | Hans Rennagen | Areyon
Warlords of the Sith: Kascalion Giedfield | Darth Immortuos | Velok Brokentusk | Darth Perfidiae

​

---

---

"Together."

Errant considered the word. Another of the Order hadn't spoken to him since Bastion, let alone acknowledge him on the battlefield. A sense of pride swelled within his chest. He stood straighter, head held higher, his gaze locked on the rebel soldiers ahead of him. If another chose to place their trust in him, he could not fail.

A flurry of bolts loosed in Errant's direction saw the Crestfallen Knight pre-occupied as Velok's hulking form pounced forth and released a ball of flame upon the Imperials. Errant cursed, his arms thrown up in a lame attempt to defend himself, ill-prepared for the sudden appearance of a foe he hadn't foreseen. An intense heat filled the room. He screwed his eyes shut and silently prepared for death.

"Get Back!"

The Albino looked up as Hans pushed forth, his shield raised to meet the burning inferno head-on. Errant dashed in the way of Hans after the thunderous explosion. His soaring body crashed into the black-armored Knight. The impact shook Errant to the core, his entire body forced back by the larger Knight's flight. The echani managed to keep his footing, the force guiding his wild dance. He offered his scorched companion a hand up beside another of their brothers before he looked to the dark blade fallen to the dirt just a few feet away. With a thrust of his hand and a mental command, the black weapon flew towards him, finding its way to his waiting palm.

A second Sith appeared in the tunnel, this one the very visage of death. A putrid, rotten scent rolled in behind the horror. Errant hefted his blade in preparation for the battle. He looked to the others. One of their own crumpled to the ground, their charred skeleton shattering on impact. Others turned to face the craven killer, their brief hesitation enough to steal any chance at overwhelming the monstrosity.

"To arms!" Errant roared, his blade raised high, the dark weapon pointed at the dread-beast. "Honor and glory for our Lord, the Sovereign-Imperator!"

He leaped through the air and slammed down with the blade, its keen-edge arching down to split the Sith Lord's rotted skull in twain.

 

[Caarlyle Rausgeber]

Location: Nyriaan Orbit//NIV Tregessar//Hangar
Objective: Take Colonel Arjant Holesco to his appointment
POV: Lieutenant Gravid Paxxe

The lieutenant offered the traditional First Imperial salute as the colonel stepped off his shuttle craft. "Hail Tavlar!" The lieutenant offered, before clasping his rifle close. He was a stossjaeger of the First Stossjaeger Brigade. Bright pauldrons and shiny uniforms came with the job and office of being part of the Grand Admiral's personal brigade aboard a post as reputable as the Tregessar. The lieutenant, behind his shiny First Imperial style helm nodded as the colonel denoted the Grand Admiral's waiting upon him. "As we've been informed sir. If you'll follow me, I'll escort you there."

The rest of the hangar was a sort of controlled chaos, as TIE fighters refuelled from escort missions, technicians ran repairs and both stormtroopers and stossjaegers began to prepare themselves for deployment. A second wave to reinforce those currently scouring Nyriaan for threats. Lieutenant Paxxe and two other stossjaeger's escorted him through the hangar and then to the maze of corridors. Corridors which seemed more to take on the aesthetic of the First Order, rather than that of a typical New Imperial vessel. A theme to come, as what became truly realised was simply how many First Imperial or Pa'Deshi veterans, now Prefsbelt Command personnel who served aboard. All attired in the uniforms of their former masters. Carrying on the aesthetic even in these new and troubled times and new management.

The journey was silent and professional. The sight of a stossjaeger patrol parted corridors of technicians, officers and assorted other personnel seeking to blow off steam with the asssorted gyms and recreational facilities located through the decks of the dreadnaught. After an age of navigating corridors and elevators, they reached a secluded part of the vessel and a sealed door. Lieutenant Paxxe reached for his code cylinder, and injected it into the door. He retracted it and it hissed open, revealing a conference room. And at the far end, the Grand Admiral, now acting Admiral Regent. In all his splendour and newfound youth. "Grand Admiral Rausgeber!" Paxxe barked, slamming a clenched fist against his breastplate, and then extending his arm out, "I present, Warlord and Colonel, Arjant Holesco sir!"

The Grand Admiral rose, and approached. He was a towering figure as he strode forward. "Thank you very much lieutenant. You are dismissed for now." He warmly mused, approaching the colonel. Paxxe gave a nod, and exited. Leaving the two warriors alone in the vast conference space. Rausgeber's approach ended, when he extended a hand toward the man, "Colonel Holesco, I welcome you aboard my flag." The Grand Admiral purred, "I trust your commute was pleasant?" He offered, before then cutting to business, "However, It seems you've been very eager to meet me, to organise such an appointment as this."

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

 

[Kaska Arden]

D Y I N GㅤS U N
O B J E C T I V EㅤI V

Dagon Kaze

The macrobinoculars gave a faint whirr as they flicked and flittered between magnification settings. The tattered, overgrown skeleton of an ancient spacefaring vessel shifting before the woman's eyes, her mind too preoccupied to really register the details beyond a cursory inspection. Nothing had really changed in the last hour or so, save for the dwindling of the light and the lengthening of the shadows cast by the rusty wreck. The gentle sounds of the jungle her only source of company as she watched, waited and tried not to be consumed by her own thoughts.

Nyriaan; the planet of her birth. By all rights, the jungle world should have felt like home. Her blood, what little of her familial clan still remained alive, resided a scant few hundred kilometers south of her current position. A brother and sister she hadn't seen in well over a decade, their tear streaked faces the last parting memory she had of them, leaving them behind to follow Sardun. An angry girl setting out on the path of the Jedi for all the wrong reasons. No, coming back to Nyriaan didn't feel like a homecoming.

If anything, it felt...

A snap of a branch, a rustle of leaves and some awkward footfalls of someone not yet used to the jungle pulled her from her introspection. Any flicker of concern quickly fading as she recognized the interloper's familiar presence within the force. The pain was new, fresh and raw, but there was no mistaking that feeling of rigid spikes of light, tightly controlled and tightly wound for anyone else.

"Rude to keep a girl waiting, Kaze." Kaska replied with a small, lopsided smile of her own. Glad for his company if only for the distraction it provided from the ghosts of her past. She shifted from her crouched overwatch position, pulling away from the edge of the vantage point to meet him half-way as he exited the thicket, tossing him the binocs. "I was starting to think this would be turning into a rescue mission."

The Nyriaanan paused, letting her gaze wash over his features as if seeing them for the very first time, eyes tightening for a second before she turned away again. She had heard Ziost had been a baptism of fire for the padawan, but she was glad to see that physical scars of whatever he had faced on that twisted planet seemed to have healed in the interim. How the rest of his wounds fared, the ones less visible, remained to be seen.

"How do do you want to do this?" She asked, letting him take the lead. She technically held rank, but she doubted that distinction would carry weight for much longer. The Padawan before her was not the same wide eyed, idealistic one she had met on Manaan. "That relic will not retrieve itself."

 

[Rika Hiro]

OBJECTIVE III //: LOOSE LIPS, LOOSE HEADS

Kap Patari, top dog of POLITARIO and a public enemy of COMPNOR since before the order came to this planet to pursue order and stability. He had come to be quite the bloody baron of the movement in the past few years, gaining a reputation for murder and bombings that reached beyond Nyriaans borders. Those that spoke ill of him found themselves dead in alleys and the back of waste heaps, even those from within the organisation itself. COMPNOR had discovered a trio of low ranking POLITARIO officers with their hands bound behind their backs and gunshot wounds to the heads in a ditch outside a spaceport on Troska. Likely the victims of an internal power struggle or the chaotic whims of an unstable rebel leader. Regardless of the facts, Kap Patari had to go.


Informants within the POLITARIO and planet had given her superiors a bearing of where Patari was rumoured to be hiding—seemingly surrounded by dozens of armed bodyguards and lookouts, rendering any chance of a Compforce op out of the question as a whole. So the agency resorted to sending her instead, armed with little more than a briefcase full of tools and a false identity card identifying her as a simple businesswoman. Asa found herself in a small bar in some unremarkable settlement east of Tor'oront, watching the day go by as she kept to herself in the corner of the bar, occasionally ordering drinks to maintain a semblance of normalcy. Sometimes, armed men would come in off the back of speeders for drinks and depart once more. She kept a vigilant watch and track of who and what came in, building profiles on persons of interest in Patari's militia. A woman of similar build and age came in later that afternoon, bearing the telltale signs of belonging to Patari's armed guard and had all the mannerisms of a confident and cocky individual. Asa bided her time before moving once more, pulling herself beside the edge of the bar, making herself look like she was waiting to be served drinks. She waited calmly for the targets gaze to look elsewhere, and she slipped a tablet in the woman's drink and walked back to her place in the bar.


The tablet soon took drastic effect and had the woman clutching her stomach in agony and urgency as she moved for the toilets to puke. Sensing her window of opportunity, Asa followed her in. Only one came out, and it wasn't Patari's girl.

​