Lucius Vasili
The First Order
"Would you like a lesson in the rules of war?"
Posts: 123
Affiliation: The First Order
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Lucius Vasili on Nov 6, 2020 17:08:02 GMT -8
—Days passed as Lucius awaited the completion of his fleet. Requests came in from time seeking details about each craft and the compliments that resided within them. So many decisions, so little time in which to process them so that everything was ready. Some of the biggest choices revolved around names. Names of ships, names of squadrons, too many designations to be set, each menial yet important.
But he had plenty of free time in which to concoct such things. There was little else for him to do except study the ships and the growing list of officers that was being assigned to them. There were a few that stood out to him, such as Night Hammer, Shade Slayer, and of course, King Sword for his flagship. Each one when spoken by the enemy would bring fear and regret as they faced him, or so that was the intention.
Finally, the call came that his fleet was ready. Having had his personal items packed and ready for transport, he departed the guest rooms for the hangar. It was there a new shuttle awaited him, one he had personally requested. Used in the waning days of the Galactic Republic by the Emperor, Lucius opted for the Theta-class shuttle over a few of the others, included the newly crafted Áurea-class command shuttle. He preferred a transport that could hold its own should it be attacked but still carried more than enough speed and agility to vacate a sticky situation rather easily. Boarding the craft, he dropped his things by the loading ramp as he entered the cockpit. His eyes took a moment to glance over all those present before ordering them to get underway.
With little hesitation, the ship came to life as the pilot navigated the vessel from the shipyard hangar. Following the designated approach vector and rendezvous coordinates, the shuttle separated itself from the structure as it made a beeline for the group of ships not far off.
At the center stood the pride of it all. The King Sword was an impressive ship, leading its name to the task force in which they fleet would be known by. However, none of the other craft were weaklings, each proving their immense power in some form or another. As the Cazador-class Star Destroyer grew, its shadow falling over them, the Rear-Admiral smirked as they slowed to near crawl as they entered the hangar, the shuttle landing in a area cleared out for him.
As the boarding ramp lowered, Lucius was already departing, ensuring his foot fall upon the hangar floor fell in time with the boarding ramp. There, a man was awaiting him. The moment Lucius stood before him, the man saluted—
"Welcome aboard the King Sword, sir. The crew is awaiting your orders. I’ll lead you to the bridge now.
—Lucius nodded and followed the man through the vast halls of the ship, soldiers and crewmen moving about as they ensured it was ready for its maiden voyage. Before long, they arrived at the bridge, each of the crew snapping to attention. Moving to the front of the ship, he looked to the comm officer, ordering him to open a channel to Admiral Saren. When it was, the Rear-Admiral spoke.—
Admiral Saren, Task Force King Sword is gathered and awaiting your orders. |
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Atash S. Torkan
The Solenbaran Diarchy
Posts: 104 
Affiliation: Solenbaran Diarchy
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Post by Atash S. Torkan on Feb 25, 2021 6:00:22 GMT -8
The Star Destroyer left hyperspace. The wedge-like ship approached a colossal shipyard. It had assembled the years prior. The design had been planned throughfully in Bonadan, the pieces were prefabricated, with worker droids assembling the production lines in a few months. Ore had being brought from the mineral-rich planets in the Diarchy and a myriad pieces from the wreckages and captured ships byproduct of the faction's expansion and conquest: tones of cables and circuits, repurposed batteries and generators, extensive hull plating, inner scafolding and even living quarter modules from older Imperial-manufactured ships. The ship being constructed by the automated workforce dwarfed the Star Destroyer that the Diarch had used to travel to the system. The location of the shipyard was kept secret to almost everyone, the funds being provided by the diligent Hutt, Yrabbo.
Torkan walked through the hangar bay, followed by the crimson-clad Sovereign Protectors, silent and faceless in their helmets. The Moff wore a purely white uniform with a blood-like cape, falling to the ground in graceful waves, perched in place by a silvery pair of pins, united by a chain. He entered the shuttle, the door to his private chambers sliding open. It soon raised flight, leaving the hanger bay, followed by a squadron of red TIE Dominadores, those flewn by his guardsmen. The spacecraft crossed silently the open space between the flagship and the ship in construction, entering the later and docking smoothly. A Phindar, Ortalisk -alongside a score of grey-clad humans and humanoids-, awaited on the large ship's hangar, wearing the uniform and badge of a Diarchy's director, Torkan, the cloak wavering behing his heels, left the shuttle. Two hundred stormtroopers stood in place, their weapons presented to the Diarch.
"Director Ortalisk"
"High Moff"
Said the alien, submissive, leaning his back with reverence.
"The workss are well underway, we should be finished in a few monthsss, my Lord"
"Good to hear"
They walked through the bay, followed by the cadre of Sovereign Protectors. Both entered the well-lit turbolift, heading to the superior levels of the large spacecraft.
"I have devoted many resources to this project"
"It ssshall be worth it, my liege. We have followed the templatessss of Lira Wessex to the note. But we had to make adjustmentssss, technology hasss progressssed much ssssince itssss inception, sire"
"As it should be"
The doors slid open, revealing a command center, with a wide viewport over the ship's surface, covered with a massive cityscape. Torkan walked to the front, inspecting the ship. Droids hovered and flew around, still working on the destroyer.
"Good... leave me"
"My lord"
Said the alien, bending his back again and retreating towards the turbolift's door. The guardsmen remained like statues, lining the room, while the Diarch looked outside.
"This shall be my ship... I'll have to think of a name"
Said the moff to himself. The system's sun looked small and bright, beyond the horizon provided by the ship's surface. The distant light bathed the viewport and the Diarch's face.
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Atash S. Torkan
The Solenbaran Diarchy
Posts: 104
Affiliation: Solenbaran Diarchy
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Post by Atash S. Torkan on Jan 26, 2022 4:48:08 GMT -8
Somewhere in in the far reaches of Bonadan's star system, within a secluded asteroid field... The Majestic landed on a wide and pristine hangar bay. The red hull shining under the strong white lights. Four and twenty Sovereign Protectors in full armor left the ship, taking places in two lines, making an aisle for the Grand Moff to cross, their weapons held in ceremonial way. Torkan walked down the lowered ramp, the red cloak fluttering behind his back. Trailing behind him, personel surviving from the fall of the government, not many, just a mere handful. Rows upon rows of red-armored stormtroopers stood silently, like statues, their blasters in hands, emotionless and masked. An impresive array of the Diarchy's prime and most powerful soldiery. The Grand Moff had been diverting funds and men for years, sending handpicked batallions to the secret shipyard. Many of them served the Diarch while he was yet a director. Others were former slaves, willingly conscripted into armed forces after their liberation by Torkan himself. Faithful and well trained troopers. The first row was comprised by the elite, carrying twin blasters and vibro blades, wearing composite red armor and visored helmets. An alien in grey and red uniform, wearing the badge of a director, came to welcome his liege, bending his knee as a salute; the rest of the high command on board did as much. "Moff Ortalisk""My liege, the Assssshen Nesssst welcomesss her lord"A hand in a white glove gestured for the Phindar to get back on his clawed feet. The company started to walk towards the elevator, the Sovereign Protectors walking at good pace, their red menacing armor and cloaks a sight to behold.
"Report""We have already welcomed a thoussssand twenty two individualssss, my liege. Only one hundred and seventeen are still misssssing from the Contingency plans. We already received confirmation that two hundred and thirty six are dead or irrevocably missing"Select personel had been evacuated with haste, all of them shipped to pre-arranged coordinates where Áurea-class command shuttles picked them up and transported them to the secret base within the asteroid field. Most of them were scientists, researchers and promising officers. Torkan had explicitly non included any noblemen or noblewomen, neither bussinessmen or members of the executive boards. He only took a young cadre of educated and remarkable individuals, most of them recipients of government scholarships. They would comprise an elite of officers and researchers in a few years hence, a think tank where the Grand Moff could draw key staff to either command troops and ships or to develop new projects for the military. "Good. Enough. I trust they are settled already within the ship and given tasks""Yes, ssssire"They reached the turbolift. Only a couple guardsmen and the Phindar boarded it alongside the Grand Moff. "What about the naval forces?""37.8% were lost in mere days. We lost the Fortitude and the Phantom of Etti in an ambush in Craci. Commander Argon and Director Trinvellis are dead"
"Bearable losses. They shall be mourned in due time. What else?""The remaining destroyerssss have flown to the arranged coordinatesss. They will act under given guidelinesss and wait further inssstruction, ssssire"
Torkan started to review the numbers on a holographic display when the lift reached destination. His personal quarters on board, almost palatine in nature, but still following the stern clean lines of Imperial ship design. Aides, servants and guards bowed as he crossed the hallway into his office. The consoles lighted up, welcoming their master. "Rago Ap-Tunfass survided?"
"Yesss, my lord. He and the Dread Omen both""He shall be of use. You may now leave, moff"The Phindar bows and leaves. The doors slide behind his back. The Ashen Nest. In old Alderaanian legends the phoenix, when sensing death, would go back to his nest, and there would combust, consumed by its own flames, until nothing remained but ashes. From those cinder-covered remains, a new flaming bird would arise, again young and strong. Thus, Torkan had thought it was conveniento to chose such a name for the ship whose cityscape he glanced through the viewport. A colossal ship, built in secrecy, a symbol of dread and power, an Executor-class Star Dreadnought. "Into hyperspace in one parsec, sire"Said a female voice on the comm. Torkan keyed the approval. The thirteen powerful engines moved the ship to a chosen location, heading towards the unknown through well-guarded and little travelled hyperspace lanes. The Grand Moff might have lost his office and domain, but he would be back, at a key moment in time, and in force, and thus, the Galaxy would again know his name.
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Dragus
The Sith Eternal
In front of the Empire, to all you Vader haters out there. We'll blow your planet up.
Posts: 1,406
Affiliation: Sith Eternal
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Dragus on Jan 19, 2024 18:51:05 GMT -8
For the last several days, an impending sense of dread plagued the dreams and waking hours of the people of Bonadan, the cause of which was a complete mystery to its people who had been living the last year in relative peace. The fears seemed laughable, despite being shared by the collective psyche of the population, for there was no cause. That was of course, until a large shadow tore open a great rent in the dimensional barrier, forcing its passage through a hyperspace wormhole as it rapidly decelerated from lightspeed. A black obelisk ground its way into the star system, massive in scale and pyramid in shape, projecting an aura of utter despair and misery from its light swallowing surface. A Freedon-class Star Pyramid, the Maw slowly drifted through the void towards the parched yellow planet, ignoring hails from the system security forces as it merged into a high orbit over the planet. Against their better judgment, starfighter patrols came within range of the sinister dreadnought, immediately detecting target locks as concussion missiles tubes launched a volley of baradium packed warheads into the curious defense force snubs. They scattered of course, only to be obliterated moments later as a hundreds of emerald bolts of high intensity laser were spat from turrets across its angular surface. The message was clear. Smashing through the smoldering debris, the Maw resumed its approach, entering the upper atmosphere as it descended towards the surface of the planet. Civilian craft struggling to clear from its path found their vessels caught in tractor beams and summarily dragged before its guns, raining flaming debris down on the terrain below to mark the wicked warships passage towards the capital.
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Dragus
The Sith Eternal
In front of the Empire, to all you Vader haters out there. We'll blow your planet up.
Posts: 1,406
Affiliation: Sith Eternal
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Dragus on Jan 28, 2024 6:18:59 GMT -8
A swirling vortex of darkside energy enshrouded the Maw as the massive star pyramid lumbered into space, tearing free of the atmosphere and gravitational pull of the planet, once more embracing the cold bleakness of space. In a private meditation chamber within the evil mobile city and alchemy lab, the Dark Apothecary studied the Amulet of Shagrat, attuning his mind to the vortices of power contained inside of the arcane talisman. In the warship's underbelly, albino furred storm-vermin strapped recently acquired slaves into the medieval Dark Choir, a torture device designed to produce a psychically resonating scream to destabilize hyperspace. As electrical shocks coursed through slave flesh and filled the belly of the dreadnought with shrieks of utter agony, a hole was ripped in the fabric of reality as a hyperspace wormhole was rent wide open, bleeding a eerie crimson light instead of the usual swirling blue. The forces of Famine departed the system in a brilliant crackle of sorcerous green lightning.
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