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Post by Whill Shaman Xixo on Apr 2, 2013 17:29:27 GMT -8
*The capital of Khomm, like all of its cities, is a mathematically perfect grid with square houses and square gardens. The daily activities are coolly controlled and standardized.*
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Xeonon Solomon
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Post by Xeonon Solomon on Jun 5, 2013 8:27:16 GMT -8
Set within the confines of the city sat numerous cloning facilities this being just one of hundreds of thousands that dot the landscape. This cloning facility is enormous. Entering put you in the main reception hall where orders can be placed. Behind this through two large doubled doors is the main cloning facility where ten large chambers hold artificial wombs where 12000 clones can be grown at one time. Behind a door to the right is Darth Exequitor's Main Office where consumer comments and complaints maybe posted. On the left side of the Main reception is the clone research compound. Customers may request certain clones here or special order ones at the main reception desk. This room has 100 artificial wombs set for special clones.
This of course is data that is slightly out of date, as the office is now run by a mixture of Khommites and Imperials who had been sent here to hide them away from the rest of the galaxy. Having been forwarded a message from the planetary advisory the badasses within sent back up a message.
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Nemo
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Post by Nemo on Jun 5, 2013 8:51:21 GMT -8
Tza's shuttle descended from space, she had made it despite her initial quiverings about the atmosphere. The Falleen was not in the cockpit as the ship landed, not much of a pilot, he was more of a statesman than anything else. He was making sure that his plain black attire was perfectly pressed and creased in all the right places. The ship touched down and soon after the ramp began to hiss open, adding a strange kinda of smoke to the arrival. Tza ducked as he left the shuttle, a necessity for one as tall as he. At just over seven feet in height he had to duck to enter many places, except on Kasyyyk, they had appropriately sized doors.
The tall green man looked around, expecting a welcome. If this place was as good as he thought then he expected that someone would have heard of him from his time in charge of the Techno Union. Even when he presided over the mammoth mega-corporation, he had preferred organic soldiers to the droids his company produced. Except one, he had designed a fairly large battle droid that was a very dangerous mix of the B2 and a droideka. He had tested it extensively with organic forces, none of the organics survived.
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Xeonon Solomon
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Post by Xeonon Solomon on Jun 5, 2013 10:31:56 GMT -8
Walking up to the green Fallen Lysa-21 the 2001st clone of the original had an air of arrogance and superiority about her. For you see the Khommites often felt that they were the peak of galactic evolution, and that everyone else was beneath them especially force users. Thankfully this was someone that she recognized from the wider galaxy and would hold off on the insults. Nodding her ridged head she smiled at the man The higher ups in the food chain say you are interested in clones, why dont you follow me into my private office formally the Dark Lords where we can talk about this in private? She motioned for a room to the left of the building Inside one would see a plant and a desk that has a holo projector on it.
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Nemo
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Post by Nemo on Jun 10, 2013 5:16:09 GMT -8
Tza nodded back at the Khommite, a species who he had not had dealings with before, not personally. He followed his host into the building and into her office. It had a minimalist feel to it, Tza respected that. His own office had been aboard his flagship and had looked fairly similar, he would soon have a new office. He walked over to the holo-table before speaking in a serious tone, not that his deep voice ever allowed him to speak in a joking tone.
"My employers would like to purchase ten thousand and ninety two clones based on a DNA profile that I have with me. They would like them grown quickly and if possible, battle trained on the planet. I happen to know you can easily handle this number but I'm unsure if you could train the clones to meet the standard required. Would it be possible to tour your facilities?"
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Xeonon Solomon
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Post by Xeonon Solomon on Jul 1, 2013 11:37:23 GMT -8
Huh? Oh oops seems like someone forgot that he was RPing here. Letting out a slow whistle the Khommite walked over to a wall and tapped. As the wall fell down it showed some food and drinks of assorted kinds. Ranging from water to spirits, crackers to a single pizza he brought out two glasses and poured a glass each of iced champagne. Ten thousand and ninety two? That is a lot of clones, if you could show me the template I can send it off right away for the specialists to pick apart. Offering a glass to Nemo, Lysa took a drink of her own before placing it back down. Aye I can give you the ten credit tour. Shall we begin right away?
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Nemo
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Post by Nemo on Jul 7, 2013 17:23:48 GMT -8
Tza turned down the offer of a drink, too tempting for him at this point. He moved to follow the Khommite, he looked forward to the tour.
"I'd very much like the tour, my business depends on it."
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Xeonon Solomon
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Post by Xeonon Solomon on Jul 8, 2013 12:37:53 GMT -8
Drinking that one as well they carried on. Going through a white set of steel doors they began the tour. They were in a glass walkway with the ground being white. Outside the hallways was were the goods happened. They could see many Khommite scientists with test tubes, beakers and a plethora of computer consoles. This is where the cloning process begins. Those computers there pointing to the big two ones in the middle store the genetic information of every being that has ever been cloned on the planet. It is part of a system so that if one is destroyed the others are still there to protect the data. However as we did not have your code those people are synthesizing it, getting rid of any genetic anomalies that may come up during the cloning process and so on. From there they go into the computers who then do much of the work.
Pretty much they would simulate a birth in a test tube creating the Zygote from scratch much like a 3D printer works. This is really the most boring part of the whole thing I must admit. Over in the corner there that is going to be where the first sample is grown. It will be a test subject to make sure things are done correct with no problems before being terminated. Killed. The voice was unwavering and cold. Like this was a common occurrence which it was. Its not like its killing a person though because they will have no memories. No thoughts. Effectively an empty shell. It would be far easier to dispose of the body than keeping it alive.
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Nemo
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Post by Nemo on Jul 11, 2013 3:03:33 GMT -8
Tza had seen cloning facilities before and this was much the same. It did seem a bit larger and more efficient than his previous visits to such factories. However, the cloning process itself was not what would affect his business, it was what happened afterwards.
"This is all very well but what sort of post-cloning training do you have to offer?"
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Xeonon Solomon
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Post by Xeonon Solomon on Jul 11, 2013 4:57:09 GMT -8
Right to it eh? Well cant say I do not blame you, this shit is really boring even to me. Follow me and you will see.
After that they took off, going through the cooridors. Through the room where the pods were growing ranging from a few days to where they were nearly adult form. It was truly disgusting, if you thought a baby looked gross imagine being able to see it through every stage of its development. This was the second largest part of the building with people going to both the Imperial Remnant and some of the native Khommites.
Finally they ended the tour in the last part of the building this was were the people got their training. Thousands of people sat in front of training modules. This is the best part of it. During the cloning process the clones are flash trained in the easy stuff. Everything a normal adult of their species can do, walking running and the basics of killing if they are for an army. It is here where they learn to become the ruthless killers. These are virtual reality training pods, each person in a different reality where they are learning through repitition how to do everything you need while a solider.
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Post by Marcos, LE-9615 on Oct 22, 2013 9:49:36 GMT -8
'This is boring' flickers through my mind as I sit at yet another of the Blowhard's speeches about linage & tradition. Sure, he had made me his 'Minster of Warfare', but the Blowhard was too focused on appearances & public opinion. The people will think what they will, but they can't change anything so it doesn't matter.
I had been stuck as a Major in the Novatroops for a bit. My advance had stalled because the fools above me considered me too reckless & violent for additional leadership tasks. Then the Blowhard had just been a minor general with the uninspiring name of Haris Grut. Now he was calling himself 'Leonel Palpatine, Heir to the Empire' or whatever fancy title he was using today.
He had somehow managed to shift the riots & unrest of the economic collapse in the Deep Core into a personal victory. He managed to claim Khomm & a fair chunk of the nearby systems as his own, all the while claiming to be the proper heir to the empire. When people had asked why he didn't show up before, they had 'mysteriously' vanished. Shortly after, the story grew to include being held captive by the pretenders that had been in power.
I sigh again. My dress uniform is not nearly as comfortable as my armour, but apparently I'm not allowed to wear the armour to 'official' functions after the last little misunderstanding. Today's speech was about how the glorious clone armies being grown here would help retake the Empire. I really didn't care who ruled as long as the Blowhard would shut up & let me do some fighting soon.
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Post by Marcos, LE-9615 on Oct 29, 2013 9:46:44 GMT -8
I was sitting in yet another of these seemingly endless meetings. The windbag was sitting in the probably very comfortable chair behind his overly ornate desk. Several of the other ministers where present & all of them looked as bored as I felt. Finally, I had had enough. If the windbag wasn't going to give me action like he said he would, I would take matters into my own hands. Calmly pulling out the massive pistol that served as a sidearm, I casually put three bolts in his chest. Standing from my chair, I stepped around the desk & dumped the still steaming body onto the floor.
-Marcos
I'm in charge now, any objections?
It didn't surprise me in the least that none of the others objected. None of them had liked the windbag, but none of them were willing to take the risk of bumping him off either. Sitting down in my new chair, I smiled. It was indeed very comfortable.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 7, 2014 16:42:28 GMT -8
Days after the Remnant's Assimilation...When the Galactic Empire had fractured after the death of the Great Emperor Palpatine, many had sought to take control of his legacy. Scrabbling over one another like rats, in the attempt to take up what could never be theirs. Thrawn had been executed by someone he held close, and the others that followed after faced the same strand of fate. Though the circumstances of their untimely deaths had varied from Warlord to Warlord, everyone that held Palpatine’s Imperial dream had fallen to the undeniable power of destiny. That was the state of the Galaxy for many a year, forced to bear witness to yet another supposed Imperial Inheritor seeking to claim what wasn’t theirs. Empires of every stripe rose across the surface of the galactic plane, serving their terms until the weight of destiny had brought their promise of a glorious future crumbling down among those that remained. The cycle of fate would always repeat itself, which was made clear throughout history itself; all that ever changed was the time in which this Empire ruled. Such thoughts were directed towards the rumours and subsequent declaration of a new shining Imperium, under the banner of a renowned Sith - and temperamental woman. From its inception, many had doubted that this Empire would last throughout the coming days, that time and the hope for a brighter tomorrow would leave this woman and her followers as nothing more than a footnote in the dust bound pages of history. Yet those that would decry her dream soon began to praise the undertaking she had perpetrated. They found solace and peace within her tyrannical grasp, taking her dream of forging a pan-galactic empire under a single ruler. How foolish they were to believe her honey coated lies. This newly proclaimed Emperor wanted nothing more than to prove her worth to the galaxy, to show those that doubted her that they were wrong to give voice to their initial thoughts. That mindset, taking power for the sake of power, would only progress the cycle of destruction ever further – leading this grand dream of the Imperium into a grim and dark future, where there is only war.With such a dark events upon the horizon, it left little choice for those that sought to distance themselves from this Grand Dream.The autocab brought itself to a halt outside the perimeter gate of the towering governor’s palace, disembarking five figures in heavy cloaks before speeding off to its next destination. Those men that were left behind by the mechanical ferry, gathered beside one another; passing along coded mantras and conspiratorial whispers. “This... is our moment.” One had said, standing slightly taller than the rest. “Once we begin, there will be no going back.” To his left and shrouded in a matching cloak of burnt umber, his comrade spoke. “Let’s go through the plan once more; I wouldn’t want us to fail due to my own ineptitude.” The remaining men nodded in unison, either silently agreeing that this masked member of their brotherhood was a useless twit or, that he was right to ask their beloved leader to repeat the details of the operation before it had begun – for clarifications sake. Letting a heavy sigh slip through the shrouded veneer of his hood, the gatherings presider began reciting every important facet of his master plan. Ensuring to rid his choice of wording of any traces of confusion, the cloak clad man became the renowned orator his father had never been. He swayed the minds of his comrades with his masterful dictation, like the newly crowned Emperor before him; this man planted the seeds of his ideas within their pliant minds. Finishing his dictation by planting his palms upon the inept brother’s shoulders, the man felt his comrade’s tension ease. Through that lack of tightly corded muscles changing his stance, the Rebel in disguise knew that his fellow was confident enough to carry out his designs with alacrity. Speed was of the essence in this vocation, as the Remnant having joined their fractured hands with that of this resurgent Empire, it was only a matter of time before the fires of their Rebellion were stamped out underneath their Emperor’s Iron shod boots.Tearing his gaze from his comrades, the man moved forward and drew several items from beneath the cover of his cloak. Depressing the activation switch underneath the nozzle of his recently procured canister, the masterful orator began spraying the Palace Wall with an ooze like substance. His fingers guided the gel’s path, creating an improvised doorway that would permit the group to enter the restricted area. Pushing back from the duracrete wall with a grunt of satisfaction, he ignited the chemical reaction within the compliant substance – causing the gel to eat away at the various layers of stone and steel comprising the Palace’s outermost defenses. Within minutes, the doorway had been made. Liquefied metal and rock dripped from the outermost ring of the improvised entrance, coagulating into a vitreous substance bereft of any individuality. Moving through the manmade porthole, the shrouded preacher moved into the Palace proper. Marbled floors and crenelated ceilings greeted his unexpected arrival, along with several soldiers clad in the characteristic alabaster plate of the Stormtrooper Corps. Their weapons were raised and their power cores began their expedient process of cycling to a full charge. Letting his lips curl into a menacing sneer, partially covered by the shroud of his hood, the man’s arms rose in response. To the armed soldiers, it seemed as if he had offered himself up – to willingly accept judgment for the egregious crime he had committed against the local Imperial Garrison. That was proven a lie as they stepped close to apprehend the cloth bound figure, for his glove covered hands suddenly tightened into fists – buckling their plastoid armour and rupturing the delicate organs beneath in a gore soaked show of power. Crimson vitae flowed freely from the now deceased soldiers, their bodies broken beyond all repair. Policing the weapons from their corpses, the flanking cabal armed themselves with whatever remained from their master’s devastating display of mastery over the force.“We move to the seat of this monument to Decadence,” The warrior stated, lacking the secrecy his tone had taken upon itself just moments before. “For while no army can ever be large enough to conquer the Galaxy; our faith in my Father’s words alone - will overturn the Universe.”~ * ~ * ~ The unexpected entrance of his newest guests had sent a tremor of fear down his cowardly spine. The Imperial Governor had not foreseen any form of conflict spreading to his door step, believing in the safety unassailable walls provided. The portly fellow never thought that his enemy would waltz through the duracrete walls of his Citadel, bypassing all of the defences he had established since the former Moff had been disposed of. All of the traps had been disarmed and several platoons of his most loyal stormtroopers had been crushed beyond the point of gathering their genetic material for later use in breeding their replacements. Should he survive this encounter, Moff Kalast would have to find other suitable templates for his Khommite friends to use. That endeavour would take weeks to splice together, leaving their world – nay this garrison – weak and defenseless in the face of any that would come knocking. Calling back any available squads to his location, the Governor began making his estate room into a fortified bunker manned by some of his best troops. Tables were upended to create makeshift barricades, while dressers and other such objects were shifted into the various entrances leading into the suite. It would provide the defenders with some extra time to make their last stand against this seemingly unyielding hierophant that was unleashed within the Palace’s halls. Yet much to the portly gentleman’s chagrin, the main entrance to his suite had flung open – casting aside the embellished wooden dressers – revealing the infiltrators in all their gore covered glory. His impenetrable fortress was laid low by a simple fire team of cloaked men? How could this have happened? He thought to himself as he struggled for his sidearm. The portly Officer’s own body fought against him, gripped by the cowardly shiver trolling across his spine as the five men advanced into the suite. Their leader, significantly taller than the rest, stepped forth from their relentless charge into the formerly well-defended room. Each side had their guns drawn upon one another, waiting for the chance to unleash their thunderous fury should the words be spoken.“Governor Kalast,” the Giant began, “It is good to see that you have brought the remnants of your garrison to me, saving me the effort of tracking each and every one of your surviving Stormtrooper’s down and converting them to my cause.” Confused by this madman’s choice of wording, Kalast spoke; his tone trembling under the oppressive weight of fear gripping his heart tight. “C-c-converting them to your c-cause?” Were all the words he could force out. His rational mind wanted to know more of why this man believed that killing his subordinates would turn them to his cause. However; as soon as his terror addled mind formulated such a question, the answer became apparent within moments. Kalast had summoned the best of his soldiers to this suite leaving the rest, those clones he had considered unfit to wear the armour of the Corps, to die by this man’s hands. In an act of self-preservation, he had signed his own death warrant. Feeling the tingling wash of shame flow through his flesh, Kalast dropped the nozzle of his pistol and pointed it towards the floor. He dared not holster the weapon, for such an act would prove that he was an imbecile as well as a coward. “Yes,” the Giant carried on, as if there was no interruption, “As you have no doubt figured out for yourself, you have gathered your best soldiers to guard your wretched life. Leaving my Separatist brethren with enough genetic material to produce untold thousands of men; willing to fight the coming war.” The giant scoffed before converting what air remained within his lungs into a hoarse laugh. “So in a moment of your own stupidity, you could easily say that I,” the Titan said whilst removing the shroud of his hood, “Tharkad Blake, the son of your predecessor have finally accomplished the first steps of my Father’s dreams.” Stepping forward once his pale and patrician features were revealed, the Giant reached out to the Imperial Moff with an open hand.“Accept the Word of Blake as your own, and you will live in a world greater than this. Under my command and my Father’s vision, we shall liberate the Galaxy from the shadow of tyranny – breaking the unending cycle of failed Dictators.” He stalled his slightly religious rhetoric to take another step closer, seemingly shaking the floor with his titanic approach. “Take my hand, Moff Kalast, and the grand dream of peace within the Heart of the Galaxy, can finally begin…”
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Post by Deleted on Apr 30, 2014 18:47:45 GMT -8
Tharkad watched as the portly Imperial Moff squirmed under the pressure of his mental prowess, feeling flickers of pleasure course through his veins at such a barbaric act of domination. It was always entertaining to see life forms less powerful than himself reel under the might his mind had possessed, though as his master had pointed out several times; such things were nothing more than idle enjoyment for a mind unfit to bear the thorned crown of leadership. Yet, as his master was not here nor did he direct Tharkad’s actions from the darkness, the messiah thought to indulge himself with some of his darkest vices. However, such acts of torture had grown stale within a matter of minutes. Sure, the Governor squealed like a dying Gammorean with a hot poker in its eye, but his screeches were far too loud for any human mouth. The incessant sound sparked a dull, idle throb in the back of his head. Thus with his fingers no longer outstretched and his conscious thoughts focused solely upon his own well-being, Tharkad took his father’s rightful place within the comforting embrace of the Moff’s padded chair. Placing his fingers before the bridge of his nose, together forming a thoughtful pyramid as his thumbs were the final digits to join as one, the Son of Blake parted his lips to beseech the fallen dictator of his past. The messiah was curious as to why this man was chosen to lead an ordinary rabble of simple minded aliens, and why he had failed so hard – in which had resulted in drawing the attentions of Tharkad and his band of merry men.
“Tell, me Kalast, how did you come into power? Were you appointed because of some benign pedigree your family had ascertained?”
His ebony voice was smooth as silk, and each syllable spat forth was heavily laden with the desire for an answer. Not resisting the sweet temptations offered by Tharkad’s voice, the Moff excitedly began retelling his ascension to power – as if he were but a child eager to tell a story to his comrades.
“After two rebellions quelled here on Khomm, I was chosen to lead the planet back into Imperial favour. That was some time ago, when I was a younger man that was both strong in mind and body. I was a soldier back then, proud to serve within the Remnants of Palpatine’s glorious Empire. Sure, the Republic had us beat and the Galaxy had taken a more sinister route in recent days, but we Imperials had soon garnered the security offered by the Heart of the Galaxy – where we could live out the rest of our days in peace, while our sons and daughters plotted to reclaim the galaxy from its usurpers.” An odd flicker of despair coated the man’s words, as if he had longed for the days of historic past. Keeping silent, the messiah listened as Kalast became his own biographer. “When the infighting had begun and was subsequently silenced by use of force thereafter, I was the most senior officer qualified for the mantle of governor. So, I took up the honourific title of Moff and ruled over this sector of space in the name of our former Emperor.” The portly gent paused for a moment, so that he could adopt a more sniveling pose of cowardice in realization of where his path had led. “Because of the peace after the downfall of the Remnant’s communications hub, brought about by the destruction wrought by the New Order of the Eye, I had grown complacent in my duties. The NoE had avoided my section of space, and no faction dared nor bothered to cleanse the depths of the Core Worlds. In doing so, I became the blithering mess you see before you. Burdened by my inactivity and carelessness, and shamed by my dereliction of duty.”
Tharkad nodded silently as the Moff detailed his backstory, thankful that he had not jiggled his fleshly jowls any longer than he had already done.
“I see.” The Son of Blake paused, more for dramatic effect than anything. “Well, then my dear Moff. As you are to be my most loyal of subjects, I shall bequeath unto thee a benediction that will avail your wounded soul.” He was lying of course, but such things wouldn’t matter to the blithering mess of a man pleading upon the floor before the Messiah. “In return for your complete and total devotion to me and mine, I shall restore your body to its former glory. I shall unwind the clock of destiny and bestow the gift of eternal youth onto you.”
A light flickered within the man’s flabby face.
“What’s the catch?” He asked warily. Tharkad smiled at the response, knowing that even though his body had been the first thing to fail the man in times past, his mind was able to snap back to effectiveness once his darkest desires were brought into the light.
“The Catch, my son, is the location of the Separatist cache rumoured to be hidden upon this world.”
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Post by Deleted on May 8, 2014 10:26:40 GMT -8
Tharkad was pleased with the co-ordinates of the separatist cache, as his efforts to recover such prized relics would be minimal. Finally, the Messiah would be able to bring his father’s Grand Dream one step closer towards its realization. With the tools that formulated the Galactic Empire of old, the Word of Blake would utilize whatever was secluded within the cache to bring down the newest faction to bear that dishonourable name. The conflict that would spark upon the blood stained soil of Khomm would spread throughout the sector like a wildfire, before setting the Galaxy ablaze thereafter. Laughing silently behind the serpentine approximation of a smile, the titanic figure roused his cloaked form from the minuscule chair before gliding towards the window. His hands came together behind his back, as he looked out of the governor’s office into the palace courtyard beyond. The Minions that swore fealty to the Messiah were already hard at work, ensuring that the regime change had proceeded smoothly. Thousands of previously corrupted clone Khommites had set to work removing the sigils and pennants of the Imperial Remnant and anything associated with the resurgent Imperium, only to replace them with an emerald three headed hydra roaring atop a field of azure fabric. Those clones that had resisted the change; were forcibly removed from this plane of existence – treated as nothing more than humanoid refuse.
Everything had come together nicely, Tharkad thought to himself as he viewed his peons’ endeavours from up high. Months of planning and preparation had finally paid off, since the end of the Second Mandalorian Crusade. By a single alteration within their genetic code, Tharkad had usurped the control of the Khommites long before his meticulous assault upon the Governor’s palace. Every time a clone would be replaced due to the rise of industrial accidents, another servant to the Word of Blake was born. Within weeks, nearly several numerical denominations of the planet’s primary inhabitants had been rigorously indoctrinated to serve their Messiah’s every command. It was the perfect solution for any rebellious soul to partake, as this planet would breed millions of subservient zealots for him to dispose of whenever he pleased, without the fear of losing such adoration by counter propaganda techniques that would be employed. Covering up such methods was a trivial matter, as dozens of vox towers were placed within the heart of the squared city, broadcasting the message his newly established faction carried. “We are the Word of Blakde, and we have come to set you free. Serve our purpose, and you shall carry the torch of vengeance towards the very heart of the Empire.” Were just some examples of what he had jotted down for the daily cycle of announcements.
Now that he had the location of the separatist cache, he could arm his citizen militia accordingly and bolster their ranks with whatever else he had found within the ancient holdout. Turning away from the window, letting his cloak swing behind his with a regal bearing, Tharkad left the chamber of the portly Governor and descended the blood soaked steps of his newly minted citadel. He hadn’t left the man alone, of course, for doing such a brazen thing would be absurd! No, He had left the despicable waste of flesh guarded by two of his best trained men, each eagerly awaiting the command to spill from his own lips in order to hang this insignificant little wretch from the battlements. However, as he had rolled the thought through his mind, Tharkad knew that such an honour would be for someone else. Twas a shame really, as the Son of Blake would have relished the sight of the man’s life being squeezed from his pitiful form by the ever tightening noose. He had only hoped that when this mysterious figure, who would have the honour of hanging this traitorous bastard from his cloud capped Citadel, that he could watch this person pop the man’s deathly cherry. As most men of such girth tended to relieve themselves in such interesting ways rather than just the traditional bowel movements upon death. Perhaps to ensure such an outcome, Tharkad would implant a device into the man’s neck to be remotely activated when the time was right.
What a showing that would make, eh?
With the serpentine smile slowly vanishing beneath a more stoic façade, Tharkad exited his seat of power and moved towards the designated co-ordinates. He hailed an autocab near where he had first entered the formerly Imperial facility, watching as his menials set about fortifying the city for the inevitable Imperial retaliation. Yanking open the custard coloured door, Tharkad planted his shrouded form within the comfort of the autocab’s bucketed seats. Letting a single digit from his left hand imprint his destination into the repulsorsleds’ navigational computer, the Son of Blake let out a sigh of pleasurable relief. Whatever lay within the heart of this hidden vault, would provide the advantage he and his men required to hold the Empire’s attention for weeks – if not months, giving his master more than enough time to lurk in the shadows unseen. For his own sake, Tharkad had only wished this cache of Separatist goods had come with an army of significant size, so that if the Empire never came; he would be able to bring the fight to their doorstep in such a fashion that his master would be pleased to hear his efforts had started a chain reaction in which brought down the only obstacle standing in his way to dominance. Either way this delicate scale had dropped, Tharkad’s master would be the only one to come out on top.
And as the autocab came ever closer to its destination, the messiah would have the tools he needed to truly begin his Father’s works…
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Post by Deleted on May 22, 2014 18:41:30 GMT -8
Khomm was a world rife with stagnation, as every facet about its daily life had remained the same since the primitive Khommite had developed their own perverted twist upon civilized society. Its people, were exact genetic duplicates of all the ones that had come before; the only deviancy in such mathematical people was the numerical designation each subsequent generation was assigned. The cities, much like the Capital, had been built as perfectly aligned grids dotting the verdant surface of the world. Once the designs had become reality, once the walls had encircled the city personifying the perfection of line and shape, there was to be no further expansion. Creations work had spread her seeds, now she was forced to wither and die as the indomitable force of time marched ever forward. The Coming of the Imperial Remnant had done little to change the surface of the world, though what they did change had taken its toll upon the disgruntled natives. Nearly twelve city blocks were demolished after the first internal struggle, paving the way for a prefabricated fortress to be supplanted atop the ashes of the dead. Over time, as the Imperials reinforced their garrisons upon this time-lost world, such an impressive fortress was created by the idle minds of those forced to safeguard this world in the name of the Empire. Now, after a week of tireless work, improvements had been made upon the gothic fortresses design. Through the inventive capabilities of the immigrated humans, and the super human strength provided by the recently procured battle droids, additional fortifications were added to the seamless city.
In an octagonal pattern surrounding the perfect cube like city, was the last line of defense any invader would encounter. Going out from the very heart of the city, it was the very first line of manned trenches any defender would encounter. Unlike the traditional trenches employed during the bygone era of the Clone Wars, these trenches had taken on a more modern feel. Stretching well over nine feet above the stripped surface, stands a three meter thick wall of reinforced duracrete; given to the defensive perimeter by the natives of neighbouring cities – willingly of course. Tharkad’s previous act of ensuring the entire populace of the planet was bred to serve him, once their previous designations had been replaced with the newly cloned copies, had helped in ensuring his rise to power. Supporting the slabs of proffered duracrete, were durasteel bars that had been supplanted into the solid soil behind the defensive barrier. Such an addition had made sure that even in the heat of battle, these ramshackled fortifications, would not fall upon the defenders whilst they threw the forces of the Imperium into the deadliest meat grinder known to man.
Bolted into the rear facing surfaces of the duracrete barriers, along the entirety of it's length, was a durasteel grated gantry way; supported by various impaled poles to help ease the titanic burden soon to be placed atop its surface. Every one hundred metres; where the pieced together defenses did not fit together correctly, was a stripped down Multi-Troop Transport. All of the armour plated skin coating the rear sections of the repulsion transport had been removed in order to reinforce the vulnerable sections of the prow. The bubble that had once contained the telescopic racking, had been opened up to allow an unusual modification to add to the prowess of this man made fire point. A strip, two yards in height, was torn into the curvature of the transports deployment bubble. It was within this exposed section of the craft, that an automatized repeating blaster cannon; pilfered from the Separatist vaults, had been installed upon a track. This unusual method of defense, would provide a full one-hundred and sixty degree angle of covering fire - culling any heavily armed opposition forced into the gun's line of fire. In addition to the automatic blaster cannon, the original prow mounted turrets of the MTT were kept operational to supplement the firepower of the weapon hovering above their housings.
A mere metre away from the edges of the wall, was a eight foot deep trench filled with a various amalgamation of hideous looking spikes protruding from the base of the trench. This trench encircled the entirety of the defensive wall, acting as the second to last line of defense for the Capital City. It was crude, if not primitive in comparison to the makeshift wall this trench had encircled. Yet such a means of protection would prove to be essential should the enemy follow suite with standard Imperial invasion tactics. Marching over land would prove to be nothing more than a hassle for the enemy commanders, as they would be forced to either build a bridge of bodies should they prove to be overzealous tacticians, or stay their heavy handed response in order to bring in gunships to ferry their troops into the front lines. Outwards from the lip of the spear filled trenches, was the first line of defense - no man's land. It was here that thousands of mines were scattered amongst towering tank traps and dragons teeth, alongside sections of laser traps; which were meant to maim and cripple foes much like the razorwire of old.
When the ground defenses had been established, the Titan had directed his magically controlled minions to look towards the heavens. While the city generators had enough power to supply the planetary shield with the desired energy, all of the extra additions to the city's defense grid had diverted such critical power away from the protective barrier. Though it was no longer able to encompass the entire planetary system, the Capital's engineering division had managed to localize the fields effects - thus encapsulating the city in a protective dome of energy. Knowing that the Imperium would bring all of their orbital firepower to bear upon the city, various emplacements were created to drive back the invaders should they seek to land directly within the bounds of the city. Scavenged blaster cannons were rigged up to mechanized housings to act as impromptu aerial defense batteries, while downtrodden Hailfire droids were torn up for parts in creating an automated rocket turrets. In addition to the amassed firepower mounting the ramparts and various buildings throughout the city, there were Four LNR Series II Systemary Laser Batteries constructed from prefabricated designs and materiel shipped in from the nearby system of Vulpter - a world that had become secretly supportive of Tharkad's movements against the Empire, though they did not come free. Such devices were given in the hopes that the Empire would be stopped in its tracks, so that the Arakyd Industries could expand its business ventures without fear of reprisal from those formerly of the Remnant - having suffered under their rules for the last few years.
This was where Tharkad would dig his heels into the sand. Where he would break the fighting spirit of the fledgling Imperium, and truly begin completing his father's greatest dream.
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Harnan Ren
Knights of Ren
Posts: 601
Affiliation: Knights of Ren
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Post by Harnan Ren on Aug 19, 2017 7:19:51 GMT -8
Life on Khomm had remained almost as normal as it had always been. Well, at least for the most part. When the old Imperial Remnant worlds had pledged themselves to the First Order, Khomm had been amongst their numbers. For their loyalty to the cause, the Khommites had remained mostly in charge. Allowed to conduct their cloning untouched, so their advances might be used for the good of the First Order. To that end, First Order banners were hung across the world, declaring its allegiance. Meanwhile, the streets were patrolled by the Stormtrooper Legions that had been assigned to Khomm as a garrison. A few other high ranking Imperial Officers were also permanently stationed here, to ensure the First Order interests were maintained, and to act as the envoy of the Deep Core's Moff. Which, in this particular case, were the Knights of Ren
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Harnan Ren
Knights of Ren
Posts: 601
Affiliation: Knights of Ren
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Post by Harnan Ren on Jan 19, 2018 18:54:58 GMT -8
Each world within the Deep Core served a purpose to further the Knights of Ren's goals. While it had taken some time to acquire the necessary capital. Khomm was not forgotten. And at long last, plans were set in motion to begin the first of many plans laid forth by the Knights of Ren. DNA Samples from several members of both the First Legion and Thriesa Company were sent to the cloners of Khomm. Along with the necessary funds to expand and great a grand cloning and training project.
With the war having come to a temporary peace. An opportunity has at long last presented itself. An opportunity to shore up the borders entrusted to the Knights of Ren by the First Order. Using the Khommite Cloning Methods enhanced by shared technology from across the First Order. Along with First Order training methods. A new breed of Clone Stormtrooper would be born. Entire Legions that could be manufactured in a matter of months, even years. And set to the purpose of garrisoning the Deep Core. While also replenishing the ranks of the Stromtroopers that served the Knights of Ren
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Post by Nicademus Delvardus IV on Sept 18, 2018 18:10:48 GMT -8
Despite the acquisition of the more refined cloning facilities on Arkania, the cloning technology of Khomm was still utilized for the necessity of producing a quick and efficient Stormtrooper for garrison duty. The Emperor had changed his army entirely to recruited soldiers, but these clones still were utilized for paramilitary and garrison duties. They were an easy way to ensure that manpower was preserved within the Empire and that resources were not stretched thin, especially on worlds on the frontiers of the Empires borders. Locations like the Deep Core and the Unknown Regions witnessed these clone auxiliaries and they were welcomed. Ever since the death of Xeonon though, the DNA structure of the clones had changed to specimens from the Imperial Army and Navy. The Emperor used DNA from those who proved resourceful, loyal, and courageous.
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Harnan Ren
Knights of Ren
Posts: 601
Affiliation: Knights of Ren
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Post by Harnan Ren on Dec 12, 2019 23:39:23 GMT -8
While the primary output of Khomm's cloning process had been the Garrison and Paramilitary forces of First Order Stormtroopers, it had been upon Khomm that the Purge Troopers had been born. As such, their presence upon Khomm was similar to that of their presence upon Prakith. The black armour clad Stormtroopers could be seen throughout the cloning facilities and across the capital city. Ensuring that the next generation of Purge Troopers were kept safe, and that the clones meant for the Garrisons and Paramilitary forces were still produced at a steady output
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