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Nozho
Apr 5, 2013 15:20:15 GMT -8
Post by Whill Shaman Xixo on Apr 5, 2013 15:20:15 GMT -8
*Nozho was a domed city on Clak'dor VII. It was destroyed around 300 BBY in a biological attack during a civil war on the planet.*
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Viox Savage
Blackguard Imperium
"You want the same as me. My redemption, eternal ascension. Setting me free."
Posts: 2,938 
Affiliation: Sith Order
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Nozho
Mar 28, 2019 9:00:12 GMT -8
Post by Viox Savage on Mar 28, 2019 9:00:12 GMT -8
Nozho, a domed city. Rebuilt centuries ago, Blackguard Forces now began to occupy it, mirroring their take over in both Weogar and Buerhoz. For too long, Clak'dor VII had remained idle. No longer. The Blackguard would ensure the planet contributed, especially for what was to come.
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Nozho
Sept 2, 2020 19:26:12 GMT -8
Post by Captain Azkul Travillius on Sept 2, 2020 19:26:12 GMT -8
123rd Regiment - Maroon Battalion Led by Lieutenant Colonel Devlin Orgammar, Maroon Battalion provided security and protection for the domed city of Nozho. Rebuilt centuries ago, after a biological attack around 300BBY, Nozho became a prosperous Bith city in its own right. Safe and secure, the Bith populace was happy and content with the Blackguard's occupation of the city. |
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Nozho
Oct 19, 2020 11:31:16 GMT -8
Post by Captain Azkul Travillius on Oct 19, 2020 11:31:16 GMT -8
123rd Regiment - Maroon Battalion Nozho, the rebuilt domed city on Clak'dor VII, continued to operate normally, despite the rumors trickling in and the tightening of security in Buerhoz. Nozho had been compliant from the very beginning, after the Sith'ari's visit to Clak'dor VII, so there was no need to tighten security or bolster the local garrison with more troops for the time being. Though some of the rumors were leaning towards Clak'dor VII becoming one of the Imperium's core worlds, pending some changes to the outlying borders. What would come of that, remained to be seen, however. |
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Nozho
Dec 17, 2020 11:34:00 GMT -8
Post by Captain Azkul Travillius on Dec 17, 2020 11:34:00 GMT -8
123rd Regiment - Maroon Battalion. The changes that had been rumored to happen, came to pass. The borders were reorganized and shifted around, and security was tightened in response. Eriadu, Sullust and Clak'dor VII had become the "Triumvirate" of the Blackguard Imperium's core territories. Due to the industrial, economical and technological might those three worlds possessed, and their influence on the rest of the Imperium's economy, the need for tightened security and stricter rules was made apparent. And Maroon Battalion fell in line and followed orders. |
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Nozho
Dec 29, 2021 14:48:39 GMT -8
Post by Captain Azkul Travillius on Dec 29, 2021 14:48:39 GMT -8
123rd Regiment - Maroon Battalion With the execution of Order 212, Nozho saw an influx of soldiers and supplies that had been reallocated from previously held territories within the Blackguard Imperium. Despite this, Maroon Battalion continued to maintain the Imperium's presence in Nozho, ensuring everything was keep up to standard. |
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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
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Nozho
May 19, 2024 13:57:22 GMT -8
Post by Dragus on May 19, 2024 13:57:22 GMT -8
Dark spheres engulfed in orange fire that trailed long flaming tails behind them tore through the atmosphere at super speed, rocking hard as reverse thrusters fired and began to slow their descent, dispelling their fiery cloaks as the black of space gave way to the purple skies of Clak'dor VII. The escape pods of the battlecruiser Sidious in high orbit over the planet screamed as they ripped through the radioactive clouds like a steel rain of armoured bullets. Calamity was once again visited upon the city of Nozho. This place was cursed. Thunderous booms sounded across the city as each pod landed in an explosive thrust that shed the last of its armoured skin and left a simple cylinder in its place that hissed clouds of steam as the super cooled ostrine reacted to the violent heat immediately surrounding the freshly landed pods. As armour-panel doors retracted and the pods interiors were exposed to the toxic environment, demonically inspired mutated rodents emerged, their long scabrous skinned snouts sniffing the poison air as though it were the sweetest floral scent. Ratghouls, a vile byproduct of the Dark Apothecary's alchemical pursuits, these rodent freaks were actually the result of what happened when the rakghoul plague managed to infect the highly disease resistant ranat species. They had a little help in this, as the Dread Wyrm had been studying the effects of a tweaked rakghoul plague at the time, one he had been hoping would be the key to creating his own plague. Thousands of these diseased creatures spilled into the city from the escape pods serving as plague ships. A diseased wave rose and washed into shore...The Vermintide had come. Fueled by a ravenous need to consume and breed, the ratghoul swarmed across the city of Nozho, attacking citizens caught in the streets like packs of feral rat-dogs. Despite possessing half a dozen glowing red eyes they trusted more to their powerful sense of smell, seeking Bith out in their homes and anywhere else they might hide, then preyed upon them as they sought to sate their terrible urge to devour everything and all. Infected ratghoul-ogres with an extra set of brawny muscular arms surgically sutured to their long V shaped abdomens lumbered into buildings and tore apart obstacles standing in the Vermintide's path. Wretched wraith-like ratghoul trailing tattered rags draped over their phantom frames followed in the wake of a poison curtain of toxic vapour released from the escape pods, that now swept across the city and expanded as it mixed with the air. The Y'Bith, mutants themselves, bore some resistance to the plague spread by the ratghoul. It delayed the infection, but did not prevent it, nor offer a cure. Slowly even they were transformed into freakish rakghoul, and were treated like hunting dogs by the superior ratghoul.Worst was the leader of these foul vermin, Skrolk Dungclaw, the newly risen Verminlord of recently created Clan Pestilblight of the soon to be born nation of Dragglevania. He towered over the other ratghoul, now swollen with the darkside's foul energy and warped by the alchemical genius of the Dark Apothecary, a wolf among rodents. His leprous diseased flesh was layered in mouldering robes that concealed much of his bloated figure behind a curtain of rotten brown. Large boil covered claws held onto an anvil sized rusted mace that trailed a swarm of flies, the parasites drawn to the acquired filth clotting the grooves between each flange, causing the crusted skull of the mace to weep maggots at times. Skrolk snorted, gargling a record setting large wad of phlegm in his throat, then hacked it towards a retreating Bith as though it were a heat seeking missle. The wad struck the alien's back and immediately ate through their clothes, blistering their flesh before eating into the meat beneath. Dead before they knew it, the villainous vermin kicked aside the corpse, sending it spilling into the rubble that seemed to becoming a trend since the ratghouls arrival.<< Resist the urge to feed, Clan Pestilblight. Burrow! Take root! We are an infection that must spread, not to be burned out brightly with our host. Dig! >> Strong with the Force even before his mutant transformation from Squeakers to Skrolk, the filthlord broadcast his words across the ratghoul hivemind, his voice more powerful than all others by virtue of being the oldest of his kind.With tireless stamina, the plague ridden Vermintide took to the task of digging their new home beneath the debris strewn streets of Nozho.
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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
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Nozho
Jul 18, 2024 13:44:41 GMT -8
Post by Dragus on Jul 18, 2024 13:44:41 GMT -8
Filthy claws with gore clotted nails and pustule weeping flesh tore away at the earth, flinging soil and stone behind the verminous figures to which they belonged, displacing the very ground as they burrowed beneath the ruins of Nozho. An army of rodents was at work, the entire ranat collective from aboard the Nullus Beacon, now mutant ratghoul bound to the will of the newly risen Verminlord. Skrolk was among the last of the vermin-host to retreat beneath the surface, savoring the final few sweeps of his malevolent mace, the Plaguemaker. Whatever he struck exploded in a crackle of snapping bone and a splash of wet meat as the bodies of the Plague Priest's enemies shattered and erupted into a broken mess. A few intrepid Bith wielding the latest vibro-tech thought themselves heroes and charged the pestilent rodent as his back was turned. One buried a hatchet an inch deep into Skrolk's right clavicle, while the other drove a forearm length gladius into the rakghoul leader's back, pushing it deep enough for the tip to punch through his scabrous stomach. The Plague Priest grunted and released a gargled cough, hacking up bits of lung and blood as he bled internally. The Verminlord turned his crooked snout to the left, locking corpse grey eyes crusted with cataracts on the Bith still holding the handle of the hatchet planted in his collar bone.
"That stings in the most exquisite way." Skrolk chittered in indecipherable rat-speech, his words lost on the frightened alien locking eyes with him. "Now you try mine." The Bith appeared frightened as the slow winding sweep of the Plaguemaker passed through the air, spreading malaise as it sickened all it touched, then smashed flange first into the xeno's torso. The heavy headed weapon completely annihilated the Bith from existence, scattering his remains so thinly it was as though the alien had simply evaporated. He continued through, twirling the monstrous mace in a figure-eight as he turned his robe wreathed body around, spinning to face the xeno filth that had stabbed him in the back. His second foe had barely time enough to back away, failing to clear the range of Skrolk's swinging maul. Plaguemaker carried through the Bith's centre at the waist, disintegrated into a gory mist everything from alien's shoulders down and from its knees up. The gooey remains fell to the ground in a sickly wet splash. "Ha. I still got it."
Handing his ruinous badge of office to the nearest ratghoul, Skrolk reached up and grabbed the handle of the vibro-hatchet buzzing away in the meat of his scabrous shoulder. Gripping the worn leather of the handle tightly, he gave it a skin tearing twist, and pried the edge from the bone with a pop. He took a moment to admire the weapon, switching off the ultra-sonic vibration generator before running his bloated black tongue over the face of the axe, slurping his spilt diseased vitae from its surface. When he had finished he tossed the blade over his shoulder, carelessly discarding it much to the misfortune of one plague rats tail. Next he pressed a few of his claws to the gladius tip protruding from his stomach, pushing it back through the kidney it had punctured until the sword fell free on the other side, striking the ground in a clang of ringing steel. Scowling as he leaned down to inspect it, Skrolk gave the blade a hard kick, sending it spinning across the streets where it clove through an underlings wart covered toes. No matter. More flavour for the pot. The Plague Priest's diseased fangs spilled putrid green salivation down either side of his pox scarred snout.
As new warrens were carved out beneath the ground, Skrolk left the surface behind, following a filthy flood of rodent feet deep below the ruins. For now they would would slink back into the shadows, festering in the dark, molding their moldering subterranean fiefdom. In time they would return to the surface to collect their tithe of flesh from what few survived the plagues left to infect the survivors above.
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