Nicholas Braeden
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Post by Nicholas Braeden on Aug 19, 2021 20:27:31 GMT -8
Hearing the acknowledgement from the Malleus brought a slight smile to the Jedi's lips as she stood upright and placed her hands on her hips. Finally, they would be able to go home to their estate and begin what could be a fruitful boon to the Jedi. If a reborn Lord Braeden could be turned back to the Light, that is. She turned her attention to her brother, her mouth fixed to reinsure him that everything was soon to be alright. But her eyes suddenly focused as she noticed how tired he now looked. There were heavy black bags underneath his eyes and beads of sweat began to river down his face. His Sith eyes were pale and glassy now. Alarm flooded into her mind as she snapped her eyes to the blade her brother had gripped tightly in his left hand. She had to act, and act now. When she moved, everything around her seemed to slow. Ashla flowed through her as she turned her body to face him and used the Force to knocked the weapon from his grasp. The instant it left his fingers, the color began to return to her brother's face. He dropped down to one knee, his breathing suddenly labored. As a few bridge staff attended to him, The Jedi turned her eyes back to the Helm and nodded.
"Understood, Malleus. Following the path to the designed landing zone now."
The Illusive began to move to the docking area, staying clear of any other traffic coming and going from Taris' orbit. While it moved, The Jedi moved to aid her brother. The Sith Sword sat on the ground, unmoving, but still pulsing that dreadful aura. Something would have to be done about that, and soon. But first, her brother would need rest. The Jedi knelt beside him and spoke to him in a way she hadn't done in years.
"How are you feeling, O'brother of mine?
Sweat still snaked down his face as he looked up toward his sister. There was hatred in his eyes but he was far too tired to fight with her. Despite being a Jedi, a sworn enemy of his, she was still his younger sister. He shook his head and waved his hands to shoo away the medical staff.
"I'll be fine. That weapon....it's the real thing. Get that thing to the medical bay. We don't have to wait until we get to the surface. We'll do it here and now!"
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Nicholas Braeden
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Post by Nicholas Braeden on Aug 21, 2021 0:38:13 GMT -8
Hours after The Sith was taken to the Medical bay aboard the Illusive, his Jedi sister was standing inside the cloning bay installed with the last of House Braeden credits. She stood in front of a massive tank, one capable of producing an adult size clone. The Sith Sword recovered from Mustafar was secured in a shatterproof container and seemed the dull the aura surrounding it. Her crystal blue eyes watched it closely, as she knew the danger those type of weapons could create. Should they really go with this? Was House Braeden worth saving if it meant bringing back one of its founding members? She flicked her eyes toward the empty tank and sighed. Thoughts of her mother now filled her mind, and some of them were not pleasant. When the House began to collapse due to financial failures and pressures from rivaling houses, the Jedi watched the mental decline of her mother first hand. Once a beautiful and influential woman, she became reclusive and a drunk. When it came time to flee from Taris, she was admitted to one of the local medical centers for treatment after she tried to take her own life.
Some years had passed but the Jedi kept tabs on their mother. She was doing well but her mental state was in a constant state of decline. If they were going to do this and bring Lord Braeden back, their house would come back from the very brink of destruction. A sigh escaped from the Jedi as she walked to the command console next to the large cloning tank and entered a few commands. The tank rumbled to life and began to fill with bacta. As she watched the tank fill to the top, the automatic doors leading into the cloning bay opened, allowing her older brother to enter. She turned to him and noticed that he looked much better than before they took him to the medical bay. He approached with narrowed eyes, showing he still had a bit of distaste for her being here.
"How long is this suppose to take? The longer we wait, the further and further our house falls to ruin!
The Jedi folded her arms against her chest, turned her attention to the bacta tank and stood there in silence for a few moments. Despite her brother's hostile and impatient behavior, he was in the right. If they continued to delay, the House would be consumed and they would no longer have claim to their last names nor any property on Taris. She sighed again and give him her attention.
"Normally, it would take a day or two to grow a fully able clone. But with that blade? I'm not sure, O'brother of mine. But for the first time...I have confidence that this will work. Now, you just need to keep the authorities from getting on this ship. Can you manage or do you need help from your sister?"
The Jedi smirked as the Sith scoffed and began to storm out of the cloning bay. He would soon make his way to the command deck and ensure that the Sith Destroyer was kept in regulation and not appearing suspicious to the Tarisian Naval Forces in orbit. While he took care of that, the Jedi pulled up a chair and sat down. As the bacta filled the clone tank, the Jedi entered more commands into the console. A small tissue sample taken from both the brother and sister entered the tank and would be used as the catalyst to create the new body that would house the reborn Lord Braeden. It would take time for the body to grow so the Jedi crossed her legs at the knees, folded her arms, and slowly nodded off.
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Nicholas Braeden
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Post by Nicholas Braeden on Aug 22, 2021 7:30:51 GMT -8
The Jedi had been sleeping for a few hours now while the flesh within the clone tank grew and began to take form. While she slept, he dreamt of the training she underwent to become a Jedi Knight. It was hard and sometimes she didn't think she could keep going, but being blessed by the power of Ashla and being a champion of the Light was worth it to her. She dreamt she returned to Taris and revealed to her mother that she had finally achieved her dream of becoming 'one of the good guys'. The smile that would be on her mother's aged yet beautiful face would be all worth it in the end. However, the dream suddenly changed and the Jedi found herself standing in the middle of the long, dark starship corridor. She looked around her but could see nothing but cold, grey walls. A light erupted at the very end of the hallway and there stood a humanoid being. In its hand was the Sith Sword her brother retrieved from the Braeden Slayer back within the Mustafar system. The Jedi felt her heart ache as fear began to seize control of her. In one heartbeat, the being was upon her, its right hand up high with the blade, aiming to bring it slashing down upon her head. The Jedi couldn't move fast enough and right before the blade pierced her flesh, she awoke.
The Jedi let out a startled gasp as her blue eyes opened. Her heart was beating hard within her chest as she felt where the blade would have sliced her. Of course, there was only smooth skin on her forehead. It was just a dream, she thought to herself as she stood and looked at clone tank. The combined DNA had taken form and grew into the form of an adult male, one in his early 40s. Wavy grey hair adorned his head as he floated in the bacta tank, a peaceful expression upon his face. Of course, the clone was empty and lacked the essence of Lord Braeden. The same essence now trapped with the Sith Sword. The Jedi turned her attention to the blade and nodded her head in confidence. 'This was it' she thought to herself as she punched a few commands into the console in front of the bacta tank. A tube connecting both the clone tank and the shatterproof container holding the Sith Blade allowed the the atmosphere of both to be shared. Hopefully, the essence within the blade would find the body familiar and travel to its new home. Her stomach rumbled slightly. How long had she been down here? She checked the time on the main console and was surprised to see it had been almost ten hours since they dropped in Tarisian orbit. Maybe she would find some food in the bag she packed for herself. As she turned away from the tanks, a bright red radiance filled the room. It was blinding, filling the entire bay. The light reflected off everything, causing the Jedi to shield her eyes with her hands. In just moments, the radiance vanished, almost as if it was never there.
What in the blazes was that? The Jedi spun around on the spot and turned her icy blue gaze upon the Sith Sword, still sitting neatly within its chamber. She approached it and once close enough, she laid her right hand upon the clear glass top. Something was different now, she could feel it. The blade no longer had the same overwhelming taint of Boga to it. Sure, it was still a Sith Blade and should be considered inherently evil. However, it felt as if the essence residing within the blade had been taken by force, dulling its aura. As the Jedi was studying the runes upon the blade, she felt a pulse through the Force. Her senses cried out in alarm as she took a step back from the shatterproof container and looked up at the cloning tank.
....His eyes were open now.....
The Jedi froze in place as the cold, almost steel like eyes of clone lazily gazed upon her. He watched her, unblinking, for what seemed to be an eternity. Her heart raced, tiny beads of sweat began to river down her face, and her left hand trembled as it reached downward to the jeweled lightsaber on her right hip. Those old, nearly ancient eyes watched her and when the tips of her fingers brushed against the hilt, the sound of the double doors leading into the cloning bay broken the dreadful silence. Her brother, the Sith, strode into the medical center with his hand cupped behind his back and froze once he realized the man floating within the bacta tank was alive. Carefully, he approached, and when he was within barely a meter, The Sith dropped to one knee and bowed his head. The Jedi flicked her eyes to her brother, noticing he was bowing like he would when presented before his former Sith Lord. He spoke, his voice nearly upon the brink of tears.
"Lord Braeden! It is truly an honor to be in your attendance! Allow me the pleasure of introducing myself to you. I am Zalera Braeden, a descendant of your great house. The one who oversaw your revival is my twin sister, Damillia. We are the last generation of your house and have brought you back from death so you may lead us once more!"
The old Lord's eyes seemed tired, almost if he was confused at what had just been said to him. Damillia's eyes flicked back and forth between her brother and the man in the tank. What if this was a mistake? Did they bring back the right soul? That could have been anyone's sword on the command deck of the 'Braeden Slayer'. As she watched both of them, she heard a response through the Force.
"Wh-...what? Where....where am I? This isn't the Void. What have you done...?"
Damillia took a step back, her hand graphing tightly around the hilt of her saber. As she armed herself, her thumb hovering slightly above the activation switch, her brother looked up and began to speak. She wanted to scream at him to remain silent, but fear and the overwhelming sense of doom kept her quiet. Damillia never took into account if Lord Braeden wanted to return to life. What if he wanted to remain at peace and they just disturbed that? The energy swelling within the batca tank was overwhelming. She had never felt Boga of this magnitude. The Braeden Twins were definitely in danger here.
"My Lord, we went to Mustafar, to your last stand, and retrieved your Sith Blade. We brought you back to lead us forth!
The eyes of Lord Braeden focused sharply, his brows narrowing in anger as he looked upon the Sith. The bacta inside the tank began to bubble as he balled both of his hands into fists and brought them to his chest. Damillia immediately slammed her thumb on the switch, her blue blade erupting from the jeweled hilt with a loud hiss-snap. She felt her body move automatically, her right hand moving down to meet the other, then bringing the humming blade up to her right side. As she stood in the Ready Position, Lord Braeden's voice exploded throughout the Force.
"HOW DARE YOU?!"
In that instant, the Boga swelling within the tank was released. The glass shattered, sending deadly shards flying in all directions. Damillia's arms flowed fluidly, the saber moving gracefully throughout the air and deflecting the pieces that would have harmed her. Zalera erected a force barrier, protecting him from the incoming glass. But nothing could prepare them for what was coming next.
Lord Braeden hovered, his arms crossed against his chest. Bacta dripped from his naked body as his eyes flashed a deep shade of crimson. He roared and brought his arms out to his side. The Force moved so violently, the ground beneath him peeled away like a stone being dropped in a still lake. The Force Repulse tore the clone bay asunder, tossing aside both the Braeden Twins. The lights flicked all across the Illusive as the ship rocked from the sudden release of energy. Damillia slammed into the far wall while her brother was thrown into the double doors leading into the bay. The clone tank and container for the Sith Sword were completely devastated. The young Jedi sat on the ground, her body resting against the wall. Her ears rang and her vision became dark in the corners. What have they done? In their quest to bring back the head of their house, they had release evil once more. Zalera was laying face down and barely moving.
Lord Braeden stood in the middle of the destruction and turned his cold gaze upon his sword, now sitting upon a pile of ruin. He flicked his left hand toward the sword, causing it to twitch then fly into his awaiting palm. His wet grey hair hanged into of his eyes as he lifted his head and looked out upon the ruin he had created. He could feel a burning with is lungs, almost as if he was still being consumed by that green plasma at the moment of his death. Is this the Void? Was he reliving hell once more? He looked out upon the two and made a sucking sound with his teeth. No, this felt too real to be just another Hell Cycle. He lazily turned his gaze to the young sithling that claimed he was his descendant. How long has it been since his death? Nicholas felt his knees trembling as he reached over to brace himself on an overturned table.
"What have you two done to me? This isn't my body..."
Damillia Braeden stood up, her lightsaber in hand once more. Blood ran down her forehead and dripped into her left eye. Even so, she could fight with one eye open. They had made a clear mistake and needed to correct it. Nicholas stood upright and turned to the Jedi Knight. His cold eyes watched her as she approached in a stance he was so familiar with. It felt like centuries since he saw Ataru in practice. Nicholas was tired and didnt want to be bothered fighting. He found an intact chair nearby, flipped it over, then plopped down in it. After crossing his legs, he moved the sword to where it blocked view of his private regions and called out to the Jedi.
"You can go ahead and turn that off now. I'm not fighting either of you. But can you please explain to me....."
For just a moment, the eyes of Nicholas flashed crimson again, revealing the Dark Lord he was before death. That gaze fell upon the Jedi, causing her to stop in her tracks. Damillia pressed her lips together then deswitched the saber. As the blade sank back into its hilt, Nicholas' eyes returned to a cold grey. A smile lifted to his face as he used his right hand to push the wet hair from his face.
"Why did you really bring me back? Oh, and don't worry about brother dear over there." Nicholas jabs his right thumb back at the barely breathing Zalera. He's alive. But I want answers and I want them now."
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Twi'leck Triplet Dubh
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Post by Twi'leck Triplet Dubh on Aug 23, 2021 17:29:04 GMT -8
A Firespray-31-class interceptor dropped into Taris orbit from hyperspace. The ship did a beeline for the
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Twi'leck Triplet Dubh
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Affiliation: Óglaigh na Iarndóideanna – Warriors of the Iron Fists
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Post by Twi'leck Triplet Dubh on Aug 23, 2021 20:17:02 GMT -8
Rising up into Tasks orbit a small ship crossed orbit in a flash. Onboard Alem questioned Shakk and Shakk questioned Alem. While they rattled on Gid navigated the ship through orbit. I'm little time the ship made the jump out of the system
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Post by Twin Togruta Dubh on Oct 1, 2021 3:48:15 GMT -8
Anddropping into Taris orbit from hyperspace a Wayfarer class medium freighter ripped towards the planet
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Mal Drynlann
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Post by Mal Drynlann on Feb 13, 2022 0:14:00 GMT -8
Mal's Pelagia Gunship drops out of hyperspace and comes barreling into the planets orbit and onward towards the planet's surface.
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Post by Octavian Delvardus on Sept 9, 2023 13:26:55 GMT -8
Lucius VasiliNem YinAfter a flurry of meetings and new orders, Taris, once more, became the stage for a major military operation. Not since the waning days of the Third Galactic Civil War had such a build up of military power been witnessed by the planet as Star Destroyers, swarms of smaller warships, and many wings of starfighters converged under the command of the newly risen Grand Admiral and the First Prefect. This was the center of one of two prongs that would strike into the Core and seek to destroy the rebels of the First Order. The Emperor, taking personal command of the Super Star Destroyer, Viligance, had already departed Bastion for Yaga Minor in order to quell unrest and mutiny within that system and the nearby Bilbringi sector, likely caused by agents of their enemy.
The plan called for two Imperial flotillas to head from Bilbringi and Taris, striking from two ways into the rebel forces under his traitorous uncle. They would likely come into systems that were divided and in the midst of fighting, come across rebel strong systems, or even sectors liberated by forces still loyal to Octavian. The Emperor hoped that all would go according to plan, suspecting that there was something more sinister at work here.
Unlike before, when the late Emperor had gathered some of the greatest minds and commanders of his empire to see the end of the Galactic Alliance, the royalists were certainly starved of seasoned talent. Yet, this was made up by eager and young officers, ready to prove themselves and being well educated. There were a handful of veteran commanders, split between the two prongs of the Royalist offense. Nonetheless, the Emperor knew that, with the capable leadership of the Grand Admiral and the First Prefect, what they lacked for talent would be made up in time.
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Nem Yin
The First Order
The dark expanse of the intergalactic void is not as empty as they would have you believe...
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Post by Nem Yin on Sept 10, 2023 6:54:29 GMT -8
Living lambent crystals embedded in the ceiling cast an orange pall across the ghoulish features of the First Prefect, standing on the bridge of the miid ro'ik warship Carcharodon as it emerged from darkspace at the head of a Yuuzhan Vong fleet. His glowing emerald mqaaq'it ocular implants glared sinisterly at a luminous blaze-bug tactical projection, noting they were joined by a number of Advanced Scout Ships and more Yorik-Vec Assault Cruisers than he could count out of hand. The Praetorite as he knew it might be dead, but Domain Yin had still managed to pull together a considerable force, mustering in orbit around Taris's rogue moon. Given the coral crafts propensity to appear as space rocks, it was unclear where the asteroid field began and the Yuuzhan Vong fleet ended, the enigmatic Intendants clinging to their deceptions even in the depths of the cold void.Steam hissed from the starfish shaped gnullith rebreather Nem wore over the lower half of his face, further obscuring his shadow swathed skeletal visage as he crossed lean muscular arms over his jet black cloaker clad chest. Dark purple eye-sacs puffed beneath his glowing orbs as he stared considerately at the main view-spider, joined by two of his most trusted lieutenants. Alith Yin, stood off to his right, clad as a member of a warrior caste despite being Intendant born. The brash young Yuuzhan Vong had been elevated to the rank of Commander, a rare happenstance for one born outside the warrior caste, even with Domain Yin's martial leanings. In the battle to come, he would lead the Carcharodon. He had earned that right after following the Yu'shaa into the fires of righteous vengeance they had set ablaze on far off Lehon. To his left was the Prefect Ur Skell, not a true member of Domain Yin, but someone the slow-to-trust Executor considered as close as any of his blooded brothers. Ur was garbed in shimmering blaster-resistant glistaweb robes as befitting his station, leaning on a rigid amphistaff like a living walking-stick.The three couldn't be more different, but today, they all shared the same goal: spilling infidel blood. The political dynamics were obviously more complex than that, there was more at play here than the Imperials simply making sport of killing one another, but he'd be happy to oblige them all the same. For better or worse, he had thrown his lot in with Nicademus' pup, the young Emperor Octavian. That choice had been calculated and weighed carefully, but all agreed they stood the most to gain by supporting the son. They weren't here out of some meaningless oath of loyalty sworn. No, they had come to make an accounting of themselves on the field of battle, and then to collect their just rewards. He'd see to that, or Octavian would find himself finishing one war only to enter into another, against a bissop he'd already allowed inside his walls.As the Yuuzhan Vong fleet contacted and coordinated with the loyalist Imperials through the oggzil attachment of their villip choir, the fleets dovin basal arrays began to harvest asteroids from the field around the rogue moon, utilizing the space debris for fuel while collecting a number of mineral dense rocks to later be utilized as gravity hurled meteorites.
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Lucius Vasili
The First Order
"Would you like a lesson in the rules of war?"
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Post by Lucius Vasili on Oct 7, 2023 5:34:27 GMT -8
--Task Force Kingsword rested within the center of the gathering fleets, waiting as all those that were called upon arrived and finished any lingering tasks. All vessels were set in a readiness state, simply awaiting their orders. From the bridge of his flagship, the Grand Admiral watched in silence. He was now raised to the pinnacle of the Navy's command, only outranked by the Emperor and Supreme Commander. He smirked inwardly as he reflected upon the past few years since his departure from the CSA as he attempted to grow and rise only to be constantly held back. If only his old commanders could see where he was now. And on the eve of a great war, no less. It was a shame, however, that such a conflict would be between brothers. Details were still coming in and there were still many unknowns, but a faction had risen with the Emperor's uncle at the lead.
For Lucius, however, he would offer no quarter. In his time, he had departed the CSA, joining the enemy when an offer he couldn't refuse was given to him. But his reason, he felt, were more justified. Being held back and looked down upon, yet expected to jump and be the vicious animal he was when they said, only to once again have his actions condoned had left a bad taste in his mouth and resentment in his heart. He had to leave and made that fact obvious. No treachery, no stabbing in the back. A clear turn that all saw coming with time given before he was seen facing them. He held no respect for those who actually performed a coup, simply because they didn't like the person in charge and either wanted to lead or had someone else they felt would better serve their desires. First with the Diarchy, and once again here. For such acts, he would bring all his fury to bear against those that disturbed the order of the Empire.
Getting the final confirmation that all called on fleets had arrived and were ready, he knew the time had come. Stepping up to a holo projector, he looked to the communications officer who gave him the green light that he had the floor. Those that could receive his projections would while all others would here his voice, the message being broadcast to all ships and sections of the gathered fleets.--
Attention all loyal men and women of the First Order. This is Grand Admiral Lucius Vasili. Many know of the reason we have gathered, just as I imagine that that some may still not grasp the truth of what has transpired. We now reside within a dark hour of our Empire as flames of treason have risen up within our ranks. The Emperor's very uncle has chosen to stand against him in order to claim the throne for himself. Such an act of betrayal is not something so easily forgiven. Many of the worlds that rest within our borders have been claimed by these traitors. Now, it is time to take them back and bring the swift hammer of justice to fall upon those that would disrupt our peace. --He took a breath before continuing.-- I know that many of you feel as I feel, those who are ready to make them pay. But also do I understand the hesitation that some are faced with. These are our brothers, after all. Some in a literal sense. We may not all agree upon the decisions of our leaders, but not all can be satisfied. As such, there is no disgrace in departing on those terms. But to blindside people close to you just to take control or bring about a new ruler or change of policy is not deserving of respect or mercy.
--He then crossed his arm across his chest.-- So I ask you now, my brothers, to stand with me as we work to cut free the tumor that seeks to corrupt and rot away our unity and peace. For the First Order! For the Emperor!
--Ending the transmission, Lucius let his body relax. He was never one for speeches, only action. But if he was to lead this group, the be worthy of his station, the ability to build the moral of those that fought with him would be required. Stepping towards the viewport once more, he gave his orders for his men to pass on.--
"I want all men at their battle stations. Give the order to prime hyperdrives and set coordinates for Ralltir." --As instructed, the orders were relayed to Nem Yin and the others. The seconds were counting down until hell broke loose for them |
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Nem Yin
The First Order
The dark expanse of the intergalactic void is not as empty as they would have you believe...
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Post by Nem Yin on Oct 17, 2023 5:23:01 GMT -8
"That was some speech." Said the youngest member of Domain Yin, Commander Alith, crossing his arms over his chest after he finished listening to the Grand Admiral's broadcast. He turned back towards the other two Intendants aboard the bridge of the miid ro'ik warship 'Carcharodon', his intergalactic alien features possessing just a hint of mockery. "Do we care? Ha. Like we need an excuse to spill infidel blood. This will be fine sport."
"You should care." Nem practically barked, his skeletal features far crueler and darker than usual, even while obscured in shadows by the hood of his cloaker and the starfish shaped gnullith breathing device he wore over the lower half of his face. "After Loraine's betrayal of the Praetorite at Shili, I thought you'd be a bit more sympathetic." Steam hissed from the gills of his rebreather as the Executor exhaled a hot breath, his knuckles cracking in a series of sinuous pops as he clenched his fists in a low simmering rage. "Well I care. The human is right. There is only one way to deal with traitors." In barely the blink of their glowing mqaaq'it ocular implants, the egnimatic leader of Domain Yin had his serrated coufee blade out, with its edge pressed into the cold grey meat of Alith's throat. He applied just enough pressure to draw a single bead of oily black blood. Alith's implanted eyes widened and he held in his next breath. He remained unconvinced that Nem would slit his throat, there were far too few of them left these days to expend a capable resource such as himself, but he acknowledged his domain-mate was capable of almost anything after the heretic shaper's actions and the death of his paramour. Even the revenge he reaped at Lehon hadn't seemed to resolve the darkness that had rooted itself in Nem's heart, like a feral amphistaff constricting its prey. After an eternally long moment had passed, the dark ridges of the Executor's brow softened and he withdrew the curved bone knife.
Nem twirled the coufee, Shem-Sho as he affectionately referred to it, around three rotations in his hand before sliding it back into the coral sheath on his hip. The First Prefect offered both Alith and Ur Skell his back as he stared across the bridge at the main view-spider, looking out into the light dotted black picture of space, seeking comfort in the vast emptiness of the cold void. When he continued, his tone was less harsh, as though he had come to terms with the two bissop waging war inside of his sickened soul. "I have spent more time living amongst the infidel races of this galaxy than any other of our kind. I know them well. There are those among them that understand the concept of honour as well as we do, perhaps even better, for our people have failed to uphold their oaths on more than one occasion." He recalled more than a few examples of Yuuzhan Vong betrayal during the invasion, and after... He slowly nodded, as though coming to an agreement within himself. "We will kill these traitors because it is the right thing to do, to return stability to the galaxy, so that we might find peace in the corner of it we have carved out for ourselves." Slowly he spun back around, resting the spindly digits of his corpse pallor hands on his hips. "And in the process reap our just rewards. As these infidels are fond of saying, to the victor go the spoils."
The former Prefect of Shili, Nem's friend and closest confidant Ur Skell, raised a brow of his own as he leaned against the rigid amphistaff in his hands that he wielded like an organic walking stick and badge of office. "Is that something the Imperials taught you?" His shimmering robes seemed to billow around his lanky form as he waited for the Executor's reply.
Dark purple eye sacs beneath the emerald green mqaaq'it situated in the sockets of Nem's skull puffed with whimsy. He shook his head, barely suppressing a mischievous smile beneath his obscuring rebreather. "No. That I learned from an old friend among the Bloodrage Pirates, but it is a platitude that holds true to this day. So lets not fight this battle as the members of the warrior caste would. Lets be pirates."
That statement even had Alith grinning like an infidel with a purse full of credits. "Aye, I can do that." The Commander of the Carcharodon swept out his vonduun skerr kyrric armoured arm and pointed straight ahead, his issuing his command in a hard barked snarl. "Lock dovin basals on Ralltir and take us into darkspace! We've got hunting to do."
All elements of the Yuuzhan Vong fleet began to break from their holdfast near Taris' rogue moon, trailing dense meteorites and asteroids after them as the organic coral craft formed into a spear like wedge and rapidly streaked from the system, disappearing into the extra-dimensional depths of darkspace on course for their first target. Ralltir, they'd make sure their presence was felt keenly there. Woe be to those that drank from the traitors cup. Domain Yin was coming.
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Lucius Vasili
The First Order
"Would you like a lesson in the rules of war?"
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Post by Lucius Vasili on Oct 17, 2023 7:52:27 GMT -8
--It was but a few minutes before all had reported that hyperdrives were primed and all ships ready for departure. He watched as Nem's ship grew closer, leaving the rouge moon and altering its shape. He knew little of the Yuuzhan Vong and their technology, but he understood well enough that it was preparing to make its jump to their destination. Without hesitation, he gave the order, one that was passed through the gathered ships as all present above Taris leapt forward into hyperspace.-- |
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