Thomas Zahn
The First Order
Posts: 196
Affiliation: The First Order
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Post by Thomas Zahn on Mar 23, 2023 14:40:48 GMT -8
One of the technicians on the bridge started pulling up the Yuuzhan Vong files that the First Order maintained and displayed a report concerning Nem Yin and what was his last reported post. Perhaps battle might be avoided, if indeed Esthh spoke true of seeking others of his people and their location
Our information indicates that the Yuuzhan Vong amongst the Empire were last upon Anobis. However they do seem to have territories beyond our borders as well. A starting point, at the very least...
Raymer had one roper warship and a pair of what amounted to warship sized troop transports. Not a particularly ideal defence fleet, especially if the Yuuzhan Vong had more of their fleet sitting nearby ready to jump in. At least directing their attention elsewhere would buy some time
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Post by Esthh Krazhmir on Mar 23, 2023 16:31:28 GMT -8
Anobis…
Esthh could tell in the way the admiral spoke that he wasnt keen on him being here, the trailing off of the last sentence rather than the hard end of a command, not that he blamed him. Perhaps there was an unpleasant encounter somewhere in the past. Perhaps there was genuine fear of the Vong’s capabilities, or the most likely that the admiral did not like being caught unprepared. In any case Esthh had no reason to make him less comfortable, at least not this day. A mental request was instantly answered by the mataloks part of the brain that was responsible for navigation.
...in the mid rim section of the galaxy. I thank you Fleet Admiral. Perhaps we will speak again and I may return the courtesy.
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Thomas Zahn
The First Order
Posts: 196
Affiliation: The First Order
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Post by Thomas Zahn on Mar 23, 2023 19:03:38 GMT -8
Good luck on your search Supreme Commander.
He closed the comm line, and waited, sensor techs keeping an eye on the vessel. Had these been their Vong allies, he would have been far more at ease. But unknown quantities more often than not led to unknown outcomes. Perhaps once Esthh and Nem met, these new Yuuzhan Vong might join into that group of trusted allies. Upon which day he would apologise to the Supreme Commander, or what ever title he would assume thereafter
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Post by Esthh Krazhmir on Mar 23, 2023 20:35:42 GMT -8
Esthh ordered a course laid in, and the matalok turned and flickered out of sight. Far above the other matalok also turned, and leapt to hyperspace.
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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: 1,409
Affiliation: Sith Eternal
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Dragus on Feb 9, 2024 10:27:25 GMT -8
A Sith iron riveted dragonfly of a starship streaked out of hyperspace, rapidly decelerating from lightspeed travel to sublight speeds as it entered realspace. As the sunlight of the Dathomir system's star Domir reflected off the burnished gunmetal hued hull of the Dragenburg, the vessel was revealed as an SE C-9979 modular frigate, absent the usual red paint job. Inside the tiny bridge located near the front of the transport's 'boot', the NJX commander rose from his seat, trailing his black armour-weave long coat as he stepped closer to the main viewscreen, chilly blue eyes locked on the display. "Dathomir." He stated in a cold emotionless tone, heard only by the Nu-Jake officers manning the controls, seated opposite one another in matching charcoal black uniforms with a crimson trim. These NJ1s shared the same handsome face as the commander, minus the beard he was sporting, the rest of their differences more than skin deep. Jake Grizzwald crossed his muscular arms over his plastoid chest-plate, raising a gloved hand beneath his chin as he ran his fingers through his well coiffed beard. "Take us in."With the command given, the pilot behind the astrogation console manipulated the controls, angling the Dragenburg's approach towards the planet's upper atmosphere. Commander Grizzwald stepped over to the communications station and leaned over the NJ1 seated there, pressing a finger to the intercom button. Static crackled from the speaker. Gripping the mic as though he were choking a serpeant, Jake spoke into the comm-device, addressing his team down in the troop compartment. Ten minutes until we hit dirt-side. Upon reaching the landing zone, we secure drill site alpha, then deploy the mobile command centre. Helmets on until the walls are up. We won't know how much of the fauna we'll need to burn away until we get a closer look. Be ready. Grizzwald out. Taking his finger off the comm, Jake returned to his chair and picked up the old but reliable Imperial heavy repeater leaning against it, slinging the rifle over his shoulder before entering the lift at the rear of the bridge.Their orders were clear. Establish a temporary outpost, assemble the refinery, then begin pumping spirit ichor straight out of the ground. They'd also been ordered to collect a number of organic specimens, but that was a secondary objective, less important than the liquid green gold they were to extract from the planet. It sounded like an easy job, in theory.The automatic doors closed with a hiss as Jake was descended to the troop bay. Reaching into his long coat, he removed a data-pad with out of date data on the planet and its inhabitants. Despite having committed those details to his eidetic memory, the NJX reviewed the information on the handheld screen, hyper-focused eyes rapidly absorbing the information. The notes had been transcribed by a hannite monk from Pzob who relied heavily on Dark Lady Trace's personal logs for reference. Years out of date, but how much could have changed, hmmm? This talk of Witches, however, made him uneasy. An NJX, Commander Grizzwald had been gene-forged to hunt Force sensitives, instilling in him a distaste for their kind which he viewed as little more than prey. When the lift doors opened, he worked his way across the deck to where his squad was preparing. They were NJ2s, second generation Nu-Jakes with a higher degree of training than the standard variety. Each was garbed in a set of gammaplast Sith Scout Trooper armour, red as the bloody tinge of the planet's atmosphere. They were packing a mix of weapons, but most carried the standard ST-W48 blaster with the attached rifle stock. They saluted as Jake approached, meeting his killer's gaze with their own merciless, almost robotic expressions.Beneath their booted feet, the deck rumbled as the Dragenburg rode the chop of the upper-atmosphere.
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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: 1,409
Affiliation: Sith Eternal
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Dragus on Aug 31, 2024 7:46:49 GMT -8
A lethal black wedge plunged through the swirling blue depths of hyperspace, tearing open a hyperspace wormhole just short of Dathomir's naturally formed gravity well, slicing its way into the star system. A cursory glance revealed the triangular shape to be an old Acclamator from the days of the Clone Wars, recently resurrected from the bottom of the Kaminoan ocean just outside Tipoca City. Since then the warship had gotten a bit of a facelift, which included a fresh coating of black paint. Shrieking starweirds screamed into the empty vacuum of space as they were forcefully dragged through the void by Sith iron shackles chained around their ankles, welded to the hull amongst a sea of similarly adhered rusted durasteel spikes adorned with the spitted bodies of murdered crew, trailing an icy mist as frozen skin particles shimmered against the black backdrop as they shook loose from the rumbling of the large overworked engine cones. The Captain of the Void Wyrm stalked the assault ship's singular bridge, the tattered coattails of his oiled great-cloak swished back and forth down by his thick heeled leather boots. Jake Crenshaw was a master of his domain. One of the Pater Mutatis' famed Nu-Jakes, third generation, he was the evolutionary successor to the modern human race. Faster, stronger, smarter, even better looking. His creator, his...father, had been generous with his gifts. His psycho-indoctrination and bioengineering was to such an extent that he would never betray him, or his empire, and yet...he had ambition.
"Tell Fort Dragmire to prepare for our arrival." He ordered the helmsmen, an eyeless mutant wretch from the lower decks, whose Force sensitivity is what truly set them apart. Originally a Y'bith from the once populated and thriving city of Nozho on Clak'dor VII, the big brained alien was taken by the Plague Rats of Clan Pestilence and experimented upon in the great undercity of Dragglevania, beneath the city ruins after its population was decimated by the vehement new Verminlord, Skrolk Dungclaw. The end result was a creature that could serve as an organic navicomputer. Jake slapped the filthy degenerate creature on the back as its misgrown tentacle like appendages were plugged deep into the circuitry of its station, an effort that was slowly binding him to the ship. One day perhaps the wretch would not be able to detach himself, becoming permanently fused to his station. That thought brought a cruel smirk to the chiseled features of the Captain's proud face. Ropes of trailing slime clung to his hand as he extracted his palm from the mutant navigators back. Scowling distastefully, the Nu-Jake wiped his soiled hand on the uniformed shoulder of the next crewman over, then gave instruction. "Take us in hard. I want to test the suspension of our new landing gear."
The Void Wyrm passed into the blood red atmosphere of the planet, descending fast on curtains of flame, streaking like a comet on a collision course for the recently deforested stretch of jungle next to Fort Dragmire. The discovered star temple and Witch Gate contained within had as of late become a great interest to the members of the Famine Lord's sinister cabal, as had the planet's wealth of spirit ichor which was now being exploited to its full extent. It was for that reason that currently down in the hold, the Acclamator-class Assault Ship was carrying an army, to send through the gate...once they opened it.
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Darth Sirona
The Sith Eternal
Posts: 338 
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Darth Sirona on Oct 9, 2024 13:12:25 GMT -8
As the XoXaan streaked back into realspace, Sirona held her breath. This was her first time looking upon the planet of Witches since coming to understand her own true heritage. But she was worried that she would still be rejected. At best she was a half-Dathomirian. At worst she was an outsider, who knew little of their culture or magick. Maywyn and the other Nightsisters Sirona had rescued months ago had been teaching them what they could, but they themselves were not strong practitioners and so were not the best teachers, as hard as they try. Sirona's own natural talent and strength in the Force had been enough to bridge some of the gap, but she was still a novice compared to the true Witches below.
The fear of being rejected by the rest of her newfound sisterhood was compounded by the youngling, Tesh, taking to call her Mother. She was young and simply saw it as what you call the leader of the clan. But the older Dathomirians didn't seem in a rush to correct her. True they owed their lives to Sirona's intervention and rescue of them, but she was not sure if the other remaining Sisters would be quite so welcoming.
A deep breath as Sirona made to way to bring her ship down a short walk from the Nightsister fortress. She had been sure to leave everyone who did not have ties to Dathomir behind, this was something she and her sisters (including the Lady of the Bog who was occupying much of the hanger bay) had to do themselves. Sirona wasn't coming to conquer Dathomir, but bring it into the Sith Eternal fold her way, to show that Darksiders need not to strive against each other and that common cause would be enough to unite them all.
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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: 1,409
Affiliation: Sith Eternal
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Dragus on Oct 14, 2024 14:10:40 GMT -8
A purple hulled C-9979 landing craft translated from hyperspace just shy of Dathomir's naturally formed gravity well, blowing past the XoXaan as its pilot made little effort to avoid the research vessel, raising its starboard wings just enough to veer past the other transport on its way towards the surface. It quickly split off, heading towards the southern hemisphere of the planet, where in the distance just at the edge of visibility the transports twin could be seen flying the opposite direction. It might not have been immediately clear what those transports were doing, but one thing was for certain. Transport ships were coming and going from the somewhere on the surface at regular intervals. The likely source was revealed by a locator beacon broadcast from the site of Dathomir's ancient kwa star temple, where the maniacal minions of the depraved Dark Apothecary were hard at work exploiting the planet's abundance of natural resources. Green clouds of smoke smothered the blood red sky of Dathomir in the direction the recently arrived C-9979 was headed.
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Post by Elarinya on Oct 26, 2024 0:22:11 GMT -8
Not long after the XoXaan had appeared out of hyperspace above Dathomir and headed ground side, the Amarth-class War Galleon and quartet of Gladiator III-class Star Destroyers appeared above the home of the Witches. Starfighters were quickly launched from the five vessels and formed into orbital patrols, corralling the C-9979's into tighter traffic lanes. Elarinya hadn't completely agreed with Sirona's approach, but she understood her friends reasoning and had complied with her wishes. Everyone that had been apart of the XoXaan's crew that were not needed had been provided temporary lodging aboard the Amarth for the time being. It also provided the Sith Warrior a chance to reconnect with her ship and fleet which she had not seen in quite some time. For now, the fleet stayed in orbit, letting vessels bearing Sith Eternal markings come and go as they pleased whilst Elarinya waited for word from Sirona
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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: 1,409
Affiliation: Sith Eternal
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Dragus on Oct 30, 2024 10:47:13 GMT -8
A ripple in reality proceeded the arrival of a Lucrehulk-class battleship, splitting open time and space in large flashes of crackling ionic lightning, clawing its way out of the lightspeed tides of hyperspace and into the star system. It was a sinister thing, the hull of its ring carrier fired blackened and pitted with long impervium spikes through which bodies had been thrust, performing a macabre jig upon those lengths as the warship slowed to sublight speeds. A sparkling crystal mist rose off that sea of corpses as the vibrations across the surface of its hull from the rumbling engines to its rear caused those bodies to shed bits of frozen tissue. Between them flailed and thrashed captured starweirds, shackled at the ankle with rune etched Sith iron chains that bound them to the ship, where they shrieked hatefully into the vacuum of space, causing the cold cadavers around them to shatter into a million frozen fragments. A baleful red light pulsated from the ruby red Core Ship housed at the centre of the warship, which was coated in a layer of meltmassif ore which possessed an unique electrochemical property that could act as a transmitter, thereby allowing the Great Devourer to communicate with his various minions across the galaxy through the use of alchemically crafted palantír. Make no mistake, this was indeed the flagship of the much feared and despised Famine Lord, his famed monster maker and mobile alchemy lab: the Haemonculus Occulori. The large lucrehulk came accompanied by an aura of suffering and decay, exuded from its very hull plates like a wasting miasma, a dark stain on reality that stood out even against the cursed backdrop of blood soaked Dathomir. Barbaric in its bearing, the brutish battleship bullied its way into orbit.
Inside the Occulori, what the Core Ship was often referred to independently from the ring carrier, there was a knock on the iron hard Pzobian oaken door of the Dark Apothecary's private study. "It'z unlocked." Hissed an annoyed reptilian voice from inside the study. The door opened with a groaning crack, revealing the rodent form of the black scaled barabel's verminous personal assistant, Squeakers. The scabrous rodent in tattered rags scampered over to the Dread Wyrm's side, who was seated in a high backed chair crafted from Bith bones and sinew. The Bith of Clak'dor VII, while hideous to look upon, were renowned for their intelligence. It was for that reason that the Hungering One had insisted decorating his personal study with their remains. He set aside the Sith encyclopedia he was reading, placing it on the side table next to him which also supported a lamp made from an oversized Bith skull, then cast the end of his saurian snout down towards his hench-vermin. Squeakers squealed and squeaked something indecipherable in rapidly expressed rat-speech, to which the crazed crocodilian appeared to nod his head, somehow understanding the noises the filthy ranat was making. "What'z that? We've arrived? Excellent." A vulturous grin split the voracious velociraptor's snout, causing black lips to peel back over rows of razor sharp fangs, steaming with sulphuric wisps of poison breath as the Pater Mutatis spoke. Old cartilage cracked like camp fire kindling as the decrepit draconian rose to a standing position, taking his signature saber-cane into his right claw, which he utilized more as an ornate walking stick.
Squeakers used its gnarled paws to help support the old gore gluttoned gecko as he stalked across the room towards a mechno-chair parked near the door of the study. The weary warlock eased his tired tail and reptilian rump into the seat, which had been upholstered with silky smooth purple keshiri skin and stuffed with rishii feathers. He handed his cane to his hench-vermin, then rested his right claw on the controls, compelling the mobile assistance device forwards with a flick of his index talon. The mechno-chairs insectile like mandible legs click clacked as they carried the Dark Apothecary out of his study and into the central chamber of the Occulori. A diverse collection of cultists, mutants, and rodents could be seen operating what appeared to be the controls of the Famine Lord's flagship. Upon seeing the Hungering One emerge from his study, a quintet of Night Ewok courtesans swarmed the scaled scourge, fussing over his every comfort. A warm wampa fur blanket was lain across his legs and a cup of piping hot caffeinated spiders blood was poured into a ceramic mug and carefully handed to him by the pleasurable paws of a purring furry maiden in heat. Slithering from between the forest of serrated daggers set in his frightful maw, a long forked tongue emerged and darted into the depths of the steaming mug, sampling the bubbling hot arachnid vitae. Smacking his lips in satisfaction, the serpentine lord set aside his mug and manipulated the controls of his mobile chair to position himself behind several banks of display monitors.
"Be a dear and bring up hangar ssseven." Lisped the wizard lizard to the ooze dripping mutant seated at the console below the monitors. The creature operated the control panel in front of it with a pair of tentacles it possessed in place of arms, tapping the keys until one of the monitors overhead changed and displayed the hangar in question, projected by a security camera in the bays upper right rear corner. Inside the hangar appeared to be a scene of commotion as cybernetically enhanced tinker rats and warlock enginseers in insulated rubber suits stood around a purple painted C-9979. The landing craft's boot doors were open and from the cameras viewpoint it appeared as though a large repulsor sled was being used to load a large brass coloured cylinder into the waiting transport. "Ah." Remarked the reptilian with a rasp as one of charcoal furred courtesans placed a pipe in his left claw with a lit spice cherry already glowing in the bowl on the end. "Lookz like the Doom-Kaboom iz nearly ready for transssfer to the sssurface." Bringing the stem of the pipe to his lips, He-Who-Hungers formed a seal with his lips and inhaled a deep breath of darkside infused narcotic smoke, causing his red right eye to glaze over and become glassy. The substance assaulted the numbed pleasure centers of the spice addicted dinosaurs addled brain, offering him a fleeting glimpse of pleasure that faded seconds after it was first felt.
Temporarily lost to the spice, it took a small tug on the sleeve of the black feathered robe he was wearing by the gnarled paw of Squeakers, to bringing the drug addled Dragus back to the present. "Hmmm?" He hummed inquisitively at the rodent, before he recalled what he had just been doing. "Oh, right. Have a Sheathipede prepared for our departure to the sssurface, Squeakerz. Trussst me when I sssay we don't want to be aboard the sssame transssport az the IDBM. I know what Major Iron-Whiskerz insistz, but I'm not completely confident in hiz calculationz. There iz ssstill a ssslight chance it could explode in transssit and ignite the planet'z atmosssphere." Five percent at most, if he rounded down a generous degree. Leaning back, the lecherous lizard enjoyed another long draw from his pipe, exhaling cloying clouds of purple smoke from his flaring nostril slits. As the Dark Apothecary's rodent assistant hurry-scurried off to carry out his will, the Famine Lord's perception of events eroded behind a purple spice cloud.
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