OOC: Heres the LINK
to the comp
3 post minimum for placings...this comp is to see what the new Night hawks can do...I know all of you are awsome fic writers, Shuang's first place in the GJW Run-on, Shikyo's a Kei so that states for itself, Trev's an old geezer
I know he's good just not how good, Ylith...well ive written with him before so i know what he's capable of...the shineys are here just to gift you for your work...now make me proud NH
The comp officially starts 23rd so feel free to post on Sunday.
Star Destroyer "Final way"
Somewhere in space....
"Sir!" a voice came over the com in Tyren's room.
"Yes? What is it?" Tyren replied with a grumble in his voice.
"Prime order message from the Quaestor, sir. Urgent!"
"I'll take it here..."
Situated on the middle of the table was the holo-projector and it above it an image of the Quaestor of Marka Ragnos.
"Lord Quejo...you wanted to see me, sir?"
"Yes! There is an urgent matter that came to our knowledge. You have undoubtedly heard of the possible invasion of Orian?!"
"Yes, sir...rumors and a like."
"They're not rumors, it's a real threat. A sect that calls themselves teh true Brotherhood have taken over our rightful home."
"What would you have me do, sir?"
"I need your Night Hawks to go to Tarthos and..."look around" a bit. See what they have that interests us. Avoid conflict as much as possible on this one, Tyren. It is paramount that they do not capture you. Do you understand?"
"Yes, my lord. I shall get to it this instant."
"Good! Gather your team and inform me when you leave. The rest is in your hands!"
"Yes, sir!" Tyren bowed his head and the holo image disappeared.
He wasted no time and immediately informed his team to meet him in the main hangar in two hours, fully equipped.
"Better get to it, there is short time and a lot of work to do..."
Ylith sat in his room , still restless after the long medical procedure Macron
had him in only a few days ago. After Draken was torn out of his body at the end
of the war against the Vong, his body deteriorated and became weakened beyond
any medical treatment except one, genetic manipulation.
The process was hell, first he had to be contained into a Spaarti Container, where
pure Valheru blood was transmitted slowly into his body together with mutagenic
chemicals. The Sith was being battered from the inside, his body mutating again
to the being he once was when Draken took hold over his body, and now he was
ready for anything.
Ylith rose and walked slowly to his workbench, where his robotic arm laid spread open
with wires hanging out. He sat down and grabbed a tool with his right arm and startted
fixing it, it only took an hour or so, but this would also be a major improvement in
combat. While he was working on it he eyed the Night Hawk armor on a stand in the
corner of his quarters and sighed.
The Sith simply smirked and shook his head. "No way..."
Only barely after the Battlemaster re-attached his arm, the comm startted to beep.
"Brother, the Night Hawks have a mission, I need you on this one."
"Sure, but dont think I will wear your armor."
"Stubborn as always...I'll meet you in the hangar in half an hour. Tyren Out"
Ylith rose from his seat and equipped his own personal armor, Medusa sword and
lightsaber. Before he walked out of the door he held out his robotic arm in front
of him and activated a device within the arm, a small triange rose and startted emitting
energywaves, creating a small shield.
"This will do.." Was all the Sith said as he walked out of the room, on his way to meet
up with his twin brother.
If you need more info on me or my weapons, see my Wiki
"I saw Quejo's orders posted to the Network... you're actually going with them?" Lord Vexatus steepled long fingers under his chin and stared into the blazing fire.
"Yes. For one reason or another... my presence might be necessary." Trevarus replied, finishing his glass of some darkly red wine. The Master stood, and pulled his cloak off a hook.
"We will finish this discussion when you return, then?"
"Of course, my Apprentice."
A door opened, spilling no light into the darkly red-lighted study. Trevarus stepped into a corridor of Sadow Palace, strangley quiet in the early hours of the Seprosian morning. His walk to the Palace hangar was undisturbed by any intrusion into his thoughts.
"Deck officer?" Trevarus said to a man standing at a command station, his uniform of the Dlarit Navy.
"I require a shuttle to the Final Way, I believe it is still in orbit."
"Very good sir." He dispatched orders into the computer. A few score meters away, an ancient, and almost decrepit Lambda-class shuttle lowered its ramp. Trevarus climbed aboard, and took his seat in the passenger cabin.
The Master barely noticed the movement of the shuttle, even though the trip took only a few moments, it seemed to span a mere second or two. He watched the massive form of the Star Destroyer growing larger in the viewport, until its bulk engulfed his view completely. No emotion was betrayed on his face as the shuttle was swallowed into the warship's ventral hangar.
The other Night Hawks were already assembled. It amused Trevarus, that this was the first mission with the Phyle, since he commanded it nearly two decades earlier.
"You're late, Master Trevarus."
"I am never late, Tetrarch Atema." Trevarus smiled, cheerfully.
Shikyo looked over the small gathering of dark jedi that made up the Night Hawks. Legendary by their own actions and history, the Sith thought it funny that the Krath Battleteam housed a couple of Sith. Sasuke examined the set of armor he was provided, deciding to test out the suit instead of wearing his original garb. The Keibatsu spun the hilt of his saber around in his hand, taking note of those who would be accompanying the Tetrarch for this mission.
It was a small enough group for reconnaissance and SpecOp missions, which led Shikyo to the conclusion that this would not be some training operation or a simple task. With everyone together, Tyren cleared his throat and looked upon the group.
"Alright everyone, listen up. Quaestor Quejo Rak'ul Drakai has received rumors of a takeover in our home system..."
The thought alone brought about an uneasiness amongst the dark jedi. After a moment of silence, the Tetrarch continued.
"These are merely rumors however we are not sure of their quality. The rumors state that a group known as the True Brotherhood has made its way through the system, taking planet after planet. Our objective is to land on Tarthos and investigate these rumors. Simple enough. I have armor set for each of you to help with the climate and other issues we may have. Are there any questions?"
Everyone stood in silence. No gesture was needed. They knew what had to be done and were ready to carry out their task. Tyren smirked and nodded his head.
"Alright. We have 10 minutes until we depart. Double check your equipment and let's go."
"Let's go!" he said as he sat in the pilots seat of the Delta class transport. Shikyo sat in the navigator seat while the rest sat in the hold.
"Delta transport you are go for launch!" a voice came through the com. The ship flew out of the hangar and blasted into the vacuum of space.
"Any info on their fleet?" Shikyo asked.
"Some! Possibility of a "large" ship."
"Large? Could mean anything."
"I know, that's why I prepared for the worst. I got us a ticket into Tarthos."
Shikyo cocked an eyebrow but did not ask further.
"Gentlemen, prepare for jump. This will be a short one."
As the computer triangulated the coordinates Tyren pullet the leaver and the stars changed.
The harsh, rigid planet took up a better part of the view screen on the Carrack Cruiser's bridge as it jumped out of hyperspace. Not far ahead, a Loronar Strike Cruiser was positioned in high orbit.
"We're here, sir!"
"Good, commence the attack."
"Aye, aye captain!"
"All crews to your battle stations!" the 1st officer commanded over the ship's intercom.
A rush of hysteria ran through the crew of the well armed ship. Men and women alike ran to their posts, gunners manned their turrets, pilots their fighters and the battle above Tarthos was about to begin. As the two massive cruisers moved closer, for all the men and women aboard judgment day had come.
"We are here." Shikyo said as the meter came to 0 and he pulled the leaver. A view of Tarthos, beautiful in its own right, appeared in front of them. A good part of the planet was shrouded in darkness as they approached.
"I have something on the scanners." Shikyo announced.
Tyren didn't even look at the image of the two ships in combat.
"Say hello to our ticket, my friend." Tyren said with a sly grin.
"You orchestrated this?" the Sith asked
"Yes! I thought there would be trouble, seeing how they expect our short return...I just gave them a little something for distraction. The pirates were an obvious choice, really, all it took was a little "persuasion" and the captain quite literally fell to his knees." he smiled.
Shikyo gave out a sly grin and a short chuckle.
"Scan the surface and find us a suitable place to land!" Tyren said as he navigated the ship into the atmosphere.
It didnt take long...
"Found it. 23 miles due west of the nearest outposts we know, 67 due South-west of the main facility."
"Good! We'll land there."
He took the intercom.
"Gentlemen, we will be landing shortly, I suggest you take warm clothing because its a bit....shivery outside."
"-20° (Celsius)?! You call that shivery?"
Tyren looked at the armors he and Shikyo wore.
"Yeah, just a bit."
Syrus sat, moody and discontent, in the hold of the Delta class transport. His eyes wandered. He picked his teeth idly with his claws, distraction heaped upon distraction. He barely registered the lurch that told him the ship was now navigating the elegant corridors of hyperspace.
On occasion he would shoot a glance at his master. Sometimes their eyes would meet, unspoken messages passing between them. Then he would resume his staring, vacant, empty, and perhaps confused.
He had been composing a verse before this rude interruption, and he for one was confident in his abilities. He likened his verse to gleaming silver sculpture, wrought with care and talent, every pattern unique, every intonation an invitation to dream.
Then the interruption had come, and his train (magnetically levitated, as it was) of thought was derailed. It would take him some time to replace the damaged tracks and the ruined train. It would take him some time to find adequate replacements for the precious cargo of similes and metaphors that had plunged into the abyss, now forgotten.
Yet the darkness of space always comforted him, made him feel closer to the eldritch realms of the dark side. He found a certain inspiration within the confines of the transport, feeding off the chaotic void outside the protective hull, gleaning lessons and memories from the tangled webs of force energy permeating the space.
He could not see as his master could See, his third eye peering into sacred dimensions and unknown places. He could feel, though, and could taste something of the hidden, coiled universe. Infinity lived within the smallest atom, the faintest sigh.
Alike, our tainted sorrows
Mind upon mind, stone
Upon stone, and more
Divide my dreams
The verse lodged itself in his memory. When he returned from this silly escapade he would bring it home with him and give it new life on paper, his ink giving it life as truly as his own blood did for him.
The intercom came to life. Unpleasant sounds issued from its speakers, preceding Tyren’s announcement. His voice was, in many ways, more irritating to Syrus than the hideous sound of electrical feedback.
He mentioned that it was “shivery” outside. What a plebeian manner of speaking! Nevertheless, he would heed the man’s words and perhaps dress in a light jacket. Cold rarely bothered him, but it was better to be safe in minus twenty degree weather, especially since he had declined the armor of the Night Hawks, opting for the traditional robes of the scholar.
As the ship began to approach its final landing vector, Syrus once again focused on his distaste for his Tetrarch. He did not find him to be a particularly impressive leader, and found his status as Krath to be greatly misleading.
Evidently, the leadership had decided that he was a good candidate, giving him the role of Tetrarch. Tyren’s application had surpassed his. This was intolerable.
When the time was right Syrus would displace him. A few strikes from his coilbolt would make short work of the fool. His hand instinctively went to his holstered weapon, stroking it vaguely as he muttered soothing words. The others doubtless considered him a madman.
“Soon, friend, you will taste blood again. Soon you shall feed, and we shall be glad together.”
The outpost, which was a little more than a small bunker, was well guarded. Five speedbikes, four automatic turrets and a dozen foot soldiers. At least what they saw outside. They hid behind an outcropping of rocks not 50 feet away.
"These foot soldiers aren't an issue, the turrets are the problem!" Tyren said. He smiled and turned to he eldest member of the team.
"Master Trevarus. "
"You have the power to destroy those turrets, correct?"
Trevarus stared at Tyren. Who knows what he was thinking. A Knight ordering him, an Immortal of the Brotherhood. Maybe...who knows. Tyren returned the stare and although knowing full well Trevarus could make short work of him, stood his ground.
"Alright...Tetrarch!" he finally said.
Tyren nodded to the Elder then turned to the others.
"Ylith, you take care of those bikes. We'll need them later so don't let them be damaged. I know its hard for you to work in these conditions, brother, but you must do it."
"Shikyo and Shuang, you follow me, we'll take care of those foot soldiers."
Everyone nodded, following orders. Who know what they thought of their leader and he didnt care much about it, all Tyren thought of was the mission and his home.
He looked at his team one more time.
"Let's go..." he said and ignited his saber.
True Brotherhood Military Outpost
Tarthos, Sepros System
Domain of Clan Naga Sadow
A request for a grand display of Elder might. The simple task might have unnerved the Master, yet he seemed not to care. He had not ventured to Tarthos in the better part of a decade, he rememberer its frozen wastes well.
Trevarus stood tall in the armor provided by Tyren, sleek and smooth, even more importantly, quite well insulated against the cold of the bitter planet. In his hubris, the Master avoided most discomforts, and he laughed a bit when he considered what Xanos would think. Of course, the Falleen would not have ventured to an icebox, without the proper transportation and shelter.
He was anonymous inside the armor, and that rather amused him. As the other Night Hawks raced forward to silence a few scattered Mundane troopers, Trevarus considered the task at hand.
There were only three turrents, how they had been set up in such short order did not concern him, instead he felt for the flow of energy between each, and their main generator. A thrumming, vibrating pulse of electric force shone as serpents out of the darkness of his insight. Trevarus fed of the Living Darkness, and brought his understanding to bear. He looked through the simple, archaic and hastily established power channels, and overloaded the resistors that kept unused current at bay. A feedback of energy began to flow.
Trevarus directed this forward, willing trillions of billions of millions of electrons to flow forward and scream their fury. They would dance and destroy, consume and devour. So small a particle, yet unseemlingly powerful in their multitude.
He became that multitude.
Three pillars of fire erupted out of the bleak dark of the Tarthos night, and the Master was pleased. Flames washed heat forward, though he could not feel it against his skin... it was there.
In twin cracks of displaced air, his lightsabers appeared at his side, and the Master touched his own fury to join his comrades.
As his fellow Night Hawks charged forward, brazen warriors brandishing their lightsabers, he instead chose to take a step back. There were already enough dark jedi engaged in close range combat. Any more, and the potential for injury would increase greatly. He decided to use his coilbolt, for he had promised it the heat of battle, the taste of blood.
Sabers raged ahead of him, glowing in myriad colors. The hum of the ancient weapon filled the air. It was as if he could feel the air burning around him, ignited by the mad roar of saber and blaster fire.
Calm and collected, he took aim at a trooper, barely visible in the haze and dusty debris from some sort of explosion. He fired twice, the bolts lancing into the haze, and the man fell. He advanced through the distortion.
Vicious combat met his eyes. Shikyo and Tyren were busy holding off perhaps eight of the troopers, the rest now dead. Shuang aimed his coilbolt at the concentrated group of soldiers. A slight grin passed over his face, like a shadow, before he fired a single explosive shell.
The force of the detonation obscured the view, but he could feel through the force that he had slain a number of the troopers. He contemplated firing another shot to make quite sure but suddenly his master raced past him into the fray, sabers spinning wildly.
“Well,” he whispered, smiling faintly, “that’s the end of that.”
The Krath looked at the soldiers. The dead dozen. All of them, massacred, laying in their own blood. Or at least they would have if not for the lightsabers.
Tyren turned to Ylith and saw the Speedbikes were undamaged.
"Good work brother..." then to the others "..lets ride out. The main complex awaits our arrival." he grinned.
The five Dark Jedi rushed on. Time was of the essence.
They lay low on a ridge just overlooking the Ragnos Cathedral and the DNS headquarters. It was heavily guarded.
"I should have known."
"What? Don't tell me you didn't anticipate this?" Ylith said.
"No...I did anticipate it. Ragnos Cathedral is the main communications base for Orian. They would be stupid to leave it defenseless." he observed the enemy and constantly looked at his watch.
"What are we waiting for? Let's go!" Ylith said and rushed to attack. Tyren grabbed his shoulder to stop him.
"Not just yet!"
"What do you mean "not just yet", we can take them down."
"I know that but this operation will take a bit more than brute force, brother."
He waited a few more seconds...
"Now!" he said and looked at the sky. Everyone else followed.
At first Tyren thought that his plan had failed and that nothing would happen and that they would have to resort to brute force in the end, but then, out of the clouds a squadron of fighters flew down and wreak havoc on the base. Bombers destroyed fuel depots, communication arrays and turrets. utter chaos. Just the way he planned. The Krath gave out a sly grin. The pirates did their share.
"Now we enter. Kill everyone who stands in your way, IF you have to. in this chaos we should be able to enter the base relatively unyielded. Lets go!"