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When Eris emerged, she found Haphaestus sitting on the ground in meditation. The Queen had grossly underestimated Eris. If she hadn't, she would have employed her sophistry toward avoiding conflict rather than commencing it.

 

Now it didn't matter. When she had perished Haphaestus had immediately set to work attempting to establish himself as the new head of the collective. It was a tumultuous start, as bonding them to himself exposed them directly to his mind, which existed in duality as a fusion of organic and mechanical elements. First they attempted to reject him as an immune system would mobilize against an antigen, but he brought his considerable faculties to bear and began to assuage their qualms not by imposing himself upon them as would a Sith, but by demonstrating his fitness to lead them. He was startlingly intelligent, his organized mind capable of multithreading tasks at levels far exceeding biological capabilities, more than adequately replacing the Queen's instinctual methods of mass central influence. But even more, as he brought them into the fold, he created a sort of neural network in the Force, ensorcelling them not only to obey his commands, but to be in closer contact with each other.

 

As the Dark Tongues began to acquaint themselves with this new form of leadership, their thrashing and infighting was quickly extinguished. He had prepared for this operation over many days waiting within RIvan's fortress, learning all he could about the great saurians and how their minds operated. He quickly began to craft for them a new order, delegating tasks to the strongest and cleverest of them as befitting their strengths. Any resistance was met at first with a sharp telepathic reprimand, but as his vision unfolded they began to comprehend the perfection of his design. There would of course still be dissenters, and they would need to be educated or excised, but Haphaestus would do so with the same acumen as a master gardener pruning the plants in his care in order to help them ultimately thrive.

 

The former Dark Lord was quite entranced in this endeavor when Eris emerged from the warrens. He did not rise, he merely acknowledged her with a nod and let her past. The Queen was dead; he would have concerned himself with the specifics of how the encounter had been initiated if he was to name her a Sith Master, but this was not the case. Wherever Eris went next, she would be whoever it was that she had become, and to Haphaestus her destiny was but a trifle, just another mortal who would live and die far away from him.

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She was glad Haphaestus hadn't tried to stop her. He had no reason to; she had passed his test. But she never trusted a Sith. They were often quite changeable.

 

As she blasted off the planet, she was not sad to leave. The Force had brought her here for a reason, even if that was a completely different reason than she had expected.

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"Days in the sun...what I'd give to relive just one. Undo what's done, and bring back the light."

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  • 5 months later...

Haphaestus was largely ambivalent to the passage of time. He had passed millennia before his awakening in the Force at the hands of Nurgle, and millennia more could he wait still. He did not know how long was wait enough, but in his repose years could pass like minutes, as he willed them.

 

...Or normally they would. Boredom, like other emotions, was a curse of his flesh. Nurgle had utterly ruined him at the same time that he had elevated him. Since Eris had dealt the death blow to the Dark Tongue Queen, he had been able to amuse himself by organizing and reorganizing those that had previously been under her command. By perfecting their structure, he had brought the efficiency of their hunts up by 73% in the first few days alone. He then began to optimize their breeding so that the next generation would be even more potent than the current pack. In a few centuries he imagined he could have a new species of apex predator that would make Eris' Tu'kata, against which too many had fallen, seem a flea.

 

And yet his biological mind hungered for more. For novelty. For all his power and all his years, he had done no extensive traveling, and the information logged in his databanks, though extensive, was curated by other beings of lesser minds than his.

 

Even if his goal was to let centuries slip away before making another bid for power in the Sith Order, he did not see why he could not test and expand himself in those centuries. There was no limit to what he could become, the lives he could live. The idea was tantalizing to his weak flesh, and soon he had conceded to it, so tortured by it he was.

 

He touched the Force as though casting a line, reaching out across the galaxy. In his meditations he had begun to observe the phenomena that were often called "shatterpoints" in the vernacular of Jedi and Sith alike. They were people, places, or objects that, for a brief time, were a nexus of chance, and depending on who acted upon them, a great number of possibilities could be achieved that would have far-reaching consequences. Now Haphaestus tested the energy of the universe, scanning the heavens for one such focal point, to insert himself once again into the great machine of time and fate.

 

It did not take long. Hapahestus rose and boarded his ship, a nondescript light freighter, and headed for Ryloth, bringing with him only his cloak, his darkmetal staff, and a single crimson lightsaber.

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  • 1 year later...

Walking off his ship Camik looked around. The temple was impressive but that was to be expected of any Sith temple. The rebreather was strapped around his face which meant that his helmet was not. His helmet was hooked to his belt on his right side, opposite his lightsaber.

 

As he looked around he wondered why would posses Sith to build a temple on such a inhospitable world. Were the builders from such a world? Or was this just built as a bolt hole built to discourage anyone from showing up here.

 

No matter the reason he was sure that Master would soon revel why there were here. He just hoped they would soon be on a planet he didn’t need a rebreather.

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The Oni-bot stepped from within the shadows beside Camik before walking on ahead as he signalled Camik to follow. It was a few miles ahead to trek, and though the Oni-bot did not require a rebreather, he made sure to give Camik a once over to insure he had indeed made use of it. It wouldnt be long before they stood before an ancient fortress, the tower dome that sat atop it as black as the mask Oni had wore, made from the same material. Opening the large doors, Bots similar to the Oni-bot remained active and going about their daily chores. In the Oni-bots hand was held a orb of black crystal similar to the one Oni had fashioned for Camik.

 

"It wont be long now. Now all we do is wait." The Oni-bot spoke, placing the Orb upon the pedestal in the center of the main chamber above a hole where the hilts of weapons were once used to open a hidden passage beneath the towering dome above. Within moments, the orb began to emit a dark red hue that swirled about its form, and the floor began to shake as the passage opened and the orb fell into its opening and down its stairs into the magma below.

 

Placing a hand out, Oni-bot signaled for Camik to remain beside him.

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The fortress was impressive, that was for sure. Camik took it all in as they walked through it. He did not believe that Oni would give him all the secrets of the Sith. He would have to take it of his own initiative and discover it on his own. Buildings like this would be the key.

 

Then there was the question of how Master was going to be coming back from the dead. Immortality was the dream of many, coming back dead was as good as the same thing. Assuming something wasn’t lost when his Master returned. All questions that he hoped he would have answers to soon enough.

 

As they walked past all of the robots, robots that looked to be made the same materials as Oni Bot. Master had told him that the secret had been lost to create Oni bot, but was the same true for these bots? Was the secrets to dark metal lost or simply hidden away. It was something that when he was on his own he would find out. Metal that could withstand a lightsaber was amazing and that was worth learning about. If it could withstand a lightsaber then he was sure it could withstand a bullet.

 

As the floor fell out he did not believe that the next phase of his life would take long to start.

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In the twilight of the the darkened magma below, a bright red hue began to pulsate and glow, its light reaching the top turn of the stairs above where Camik and the Oni-bot stood in anticipation. The Force around them began to swirl around their forms as it began to be sucked in below, the active Nurgle bots that stood around taking a singularly brief moment to stop their chores and witness the ongoings before returning to their work, the crystal below being tossed about among the magma's waves and beginning to crack under the heat and pressure as a familiar yet different presence began to slowly reveal its self.

 

"Neo Krell." A ghostly voice could be heard shouting below, the walls below shaking along with the floor beneath their feet almost in unison as it shouted an unfamiliar name that only the Oni-bot, along with the Nurgle-bots, seemed to register. "Last of the Alcazarins and of the most faithful, arise and be reborn. Hear my voice and come forth from the deepest depths of the abyss, untarnished by your past, and again whole."

 

Suddenly a bright red hue that was nearly blinding shot forth from the floors opening as the crystal disappeared beneath the darkened lava and the presence emerged from within, the presence that was once of Oni, yet different, stronger, yet calmer. The Oni-bot lowered his arm and motioned for Camik to venture forth below, following him as he went where their Master's spirit awaited. As the two would venture down the spiral staircase, the Force would continue its pull inward, some collected by the blackened ore that protruded from its earthly walls while the rest continued its path toward a vortex that would reveal the spirit of Neo Krell, the man that was Darth Oni before plagued by its blight.

 

A now silver haired being stood within the vortex, his long locks flowing across his translucent naked shoulders, revealing the tattoos that he hid beneath the armor that Camik now wore, the markings of a slave, the markings of Umaga as dust and ash began to be drifted upward from the floor below. His gaze, the ever present brown eyes piercing the veil between their worlds, stared contently st the two before him, a smirk across his face despite the sorrow that filled his eyes. Silently to himself, Neo still wondered what it was he was meant to see, what it was that the spirit of Rivan called him forth from the abyss to witness.

 

And slowly, the process began.

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Aidan's mind expanded far beyond what he'd ever experienced before. Time and space opened their doors wide, teasing secrets across the darkest recesses of his thoughts. But there was a destination, a light at the end of the tunnel as the holocron worked, establishing a firm hold on the last strongest presence to possess the device, and using it to connect Aidan and restore itself.

 

Aidan's eyes opened, but what he saw was not in front of him. He felt a familiar presence, that of the Sith. The one who had slain his master...though the Sith had changed. As he took in more and more details, Aidan began to make sense of it. Before him stood a man with silver hair, much like his father's. The man was marked with tattoos, markings Aidan could almost feel upon his own skin. The memories, the experiences, the man's mind was almost an open door, though the young Knight knew better than to venture in.

 

He had so many questions, but was unsure of where to even begin. At the periphery of his perception, he felt two others nearby, one full of life yet on the path of darkness, another devoid of life but bound to servitude in contentment. And for a brief moment, Aidan knew the Sith could see everything he could, the experience almost mirrored in kind. This was one of many binaries of the Force, a concept he'd read about hours before. In a knee jerk reaction, Aidan forcibly broke the connection, retreating inside himself until there was nothing to connect to.

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Camik was amazed at what he saw before him. This was something that even the whispers in the academy dared not speak of. He briefly wondered who the that called out was but that was a question at the end of a long list of questions.

 

Neo Krell, that must have been who Master was before he became Darth Oni. He thought to himself. Though the name mattered little, he still filed it away for future reference. He may need to do research on his master and it would be important to know. But for now, the ritual must be completed.

 

As he and Oni-bot went down the stairs he wondered if his Master had been in his place before, awaiting his master from coming back from the dead.

 

Seeing the figure of his Master, tattoos and scars for all to see Camik started to get a better understanding of his Master. But for now he simply whispered, not wanting to disrupt the mood ”Welcome back Master”

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The swirling vortex began to intensify as the red glow emanating pulsed faster and faster, waves of dust and ash being suck inward upon the spiritual form of Neo. Pain could be felt and saw in his gaze just before his head arched backwards and his voice pierced the veil in a scream of horror that not only lasted a singular moment, but seemed to continue as the pain only worsened and the vortex only hastened. And the presence that was Neo only grew stronger as his voice echoed through-out the cavern and into the halls above.

 

Within the vortex, however, was a sight to behold. The dust and ash that swirled intensely around him began to fold into his spiritual form, his translucent form beginning to be covered by the small particles as they attached, ash and dust becoming flesh in a biblical sense. First his face began to appear, then his hair, shoulders, chest, abdomen, groin, legs, and finally feet as Neo began to reform after Kyrie's cleansing. And in a moment of stand still, Neo's pain stopped just as the vortex did, leaving a crusted form before Camik and the Oni-bot. Taking a step from behind the darkened veil, the crust messed into flesh, and Neo fell to his knees as sweat poured from his pores. Taking a deep breath, Neo coughed, his throat dry and scratchy from what sand and dust remained upon his naked form.

 

The Oni-bot stepped forward, handing Neo a set of robes and clothing to cover himself with and a small canteen to drink from, tipping the Sith Master that he had been robbed upon death. But still the questioned plagued Neo's mind as to what he was brought back from the abyss for. Camik stood before him, adorning his former armor, his saber attached to his hip, his training not far from completion. So why was he required? Standing up to dress himself, the robes only covering his chest and abdomen with soft cloth strolling down from his elbow to his wrist along his forearms. And the pants and boots the bot had given him were but standard militant issued. Taking a drink from the canteen, his gaze shifted as the Oni-bot stepped forth once more, handing him the kyber crystals that once resided within his twin rapier sabers.

 

It was when he reached out and grabbed them, that he saw a flicker of what he could only describe as the Force's will.

 

 

It was the boy from before, the one that drove the proto-saber through his heart at Kuat. He stood before Neo as his form was emitted from the holocron, his face flickering between his own and the face that Neo knew as Aryian Darkfire, as if it begged for him to recognize something. And it was then that Neo began to see the resemblance as the flicker faces hastened into near duality. His jaw dropped and his chest ached as the realization enveloped his mind and the holocron disappeared from sight and time stood still.

 

Neo shifted his gaze, feeling a presence lingering upon the horizon of the Force despite not being able to see it. Yet, he knew it as the boy, the heir of Darkfire, and he could feel the darkness growing within. He could feel it as if it was his own, a blight upon his soul just as Oni had been for Neo. But where the boy was, he could not decipher. He could only allowed the boy to clinch his thirst of curiosity as Neo probed a little of his own. Truly, he was more of his father than he realized, yet, stood apart within his own darkness. Yet, before Neo could gain anymore information, the presence retreated and time returned. Neo turned to face Camik and the Oni-bot once more just as the event ended, the two likely unaware of what had just took place, a tear streaming down his cheek, realizing where the holocron had vanished to.

 

 

"Thank you my friend." Neo spoke as he grasped the bled crystals from the bots hands and placed a hand upon Camik's shoulder, rejoicing that his pupil had survived Kuat, though his scars still echoed their pain. It was a good thing though. Pain meant he had lived, and trial by fire was one of the greatest teachings he could have learnt. "Come. We have much to do.

 

Though Oni had perished at Kuat and Neo had been given a second chance at life, the effects of it all still lingered. And now there was the addition of the Darkfire heir, though perplexing as his part was, Neo knew he had to ready himself. It would take time to reacquaint himself now that the Force flowed wholly through him again, and deep down he knew that next time he presented himself before the Dark King, the Sith'ari, there would many questions to answer for. And given the cleansing of the Necrocorrhosis, they may wish to test his resolve. Luckily Camik was still at his side, and Neo could use a good sparring partner.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Hearing the screams of pain that Oni emitted made Camik think that coming back from the dead was not something that one would strive to do. Life was pain that was sure, it was a lesson that he had been taught all his life, but this was something that far surpassed anything he had felt before. He could feel the pain radiating off of his Master, so powerful that it felt like it was coming from himself. Though he felt the pain himself he did not feel the need to scream out in pain, most likely because no matter how much he was feeling he knew it was muted.

 

Eventually the screams stopped and he was attended by Oni-Bot. Once again Camik could not help but wonder what it was like beyond the veil. Was it was so bad that it was worth risking the pain and agony that he had witnessed to come back?

 

That was a question that he dared not ask, at least for now.

 

”Where do we begin Master?” putting thoughts of death and life away from his mind for now. There was time for contemplation during his meditations, now was a time for dealing with the present and dealing with the plans his Master had.

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Neo stretched his mind outward, letting his thoughts flow upon the Force's current as far as it would go, regaining a complete touch upon the galaxy around him and testing his limits. It was similar to stretching one's body after being released from one's confines, sore and tense, but free. Only Neo had finally freed himself from the confines of the disease known as Oni. Returning to his form, his mind settled, causing the Sith Master to grasp his head as it ached and swayed. It was truly good to be whole again, even if it would take time to regain his footing. And speaking of time....

 

"Camik." Neo spoke, his tone quite different than before. It was youthful despite his age, deep yet echoing of a calm wisdom. And his gaze, his gaze was the most different of all, compassionate yet stern. "There isnt much more that I can teach you outside the basics, and traveling with me will only hinder your growth as a warrior. Go to Tatooine. About five clicks west of the Dune Sea is a small cantina. Search for a Mandalorian known as Canderous Bralor. He will help you grow."

 

Neo smiled at the thought of Canderous Bralor, his old friend and teacher, their time as Hunters, and the many tight spots they had been through. He couldn't understand why after all these years as a Sith, that he would be taking a stroll down memory lane, Camik along for the ride. Perhaps now that he was Neo? He could not divine. Only that the Force seemed to push him in this direction. Turning his gaze once more to Camik as he put on his own rebreather, his voice muffled by the apparatus, but still heard clearly. "You will know when it's time to return to me.... And tell him that Reaper Grimm says hello."

 

With that said, Neo began his long trek ahead of him as both the Oni-bot and Camik exited the Fortress before him and all could hear it crumble into oblivion behind him, a voice entering Neo's mind as he stared ahead at the two before him. "The Alcazarins are no more, only you remain, my Lord of Battle." And with that said, he ushered the two toward the awaiting ships, leaving behind both the Alcazarin lineage and the darkmetal tha forged them even as that which covered the Oni-bot crumbled to bits and was left upon the ground in their wake.

 

Truly, Neo's past had been finally shed, and the only thing that remained was the future that laid ahead. There was no need to advert his gaze nor look behind him. Climbing aboard his ship, he waited in silence, letting the events taking place wrap not only around his own mind, but that of his Apprentice. If Camik had any questions, now would be the time. If not, the Sith Master would leave Almas behind forever.

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With his Master returned he could renew his training, or at least that was what he thought. He was being sent away to some far flung planet. Was he being banished for doing something wrong? Was it because he lost to those troopers?

 

Realizing his emotions were spiraling out of control he quickly locked them down. ”What is this place? It looked like it was filled with Oni-Bots.” He had been told that the ability had been lost but this was a treasure trove of bots, built with the very metal that peaked Camik’s curiosity the most.

 

He would love to spend hours finding out about this place though he doubted there would be the time for it.

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Neo smiled from within the helm of his ship as he felt the emotion of his Apprentice flow upon the current of the Force, Camik's dedication admirable. But in truth, Neo's road ahead was long and likely a dangerous one to walk, even for him. Though the taint known as Oni had cut him off from the darkside and made him weak, it cleansing had only opened its possibility. If Neo was to retain the rank given, he would first need to Master himself, lest he fall to its allure completely and lose himself completely. To be a Master of the Darkside, one had to master his or her own darkness. This was the truth he had long learnt as a Sith.

 

"You're emotions betray you Camik. You are not being banished. If anything, I view myself as unworthy to train you. My loss at Kuat rid me of the taint that corrupted my soul and opened me back to Force completely, but as I stand now, I have a bit of training myself. If you wish to follow me, I will not turn you away. But it will only hinder your growth until I am able to regain myself completely and finish your training." Neo's soft yet stern voice echoed across the comms.

 

"As for this crumbling Fortress..." Neo chuckled, his gaze never shifting back upon the place he once called home. "It was the birthplace and now resting place of the Alcazarins. I am the last, and I have forsaken its purpose. This is why it crumbled to ruins as we exited, my path now laying elsewhere, its Master deeming it's time passed."

 

The Alcazarins were dead, the Darkmetal voided, and Neo would now walk the path of Rivan's Lord of Battle. This was the decision, a befitting one, of the fate the Force's will had given him. The past was the past, Darth Oni dead and gone, as Neo Krell stepped in to take his rightful place. For now the Force called him elsewhere, to Mechis III. Firing up his ship, Neo spoke one last time to Camik. "So what do you say my Apprentice? Shall you seek out the Mandalorian on Tatooine? Or do you follow your Master to Mechis III?"

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Camik listened to his Master and looked at his surroundings. The fortress which they came, once standing for a long dead order. One that his Master would not talk about other than it was part of his past. He wanted to pry but that was a conversation for another time. Now he had a choice to make.

 

As he stood at the foot of the gang plank he pondered his choice. ”From what I was taught at the academy, to better understand your weaknesses so that I might exploit them later.” It was the harsh truth but his path was not that one

 

”Master if our last battle has taught me anything, it is that I am woefully unprepared for harsh combat. From what I understand of the Mandalorians they could help change that. I doubt I will be learning much in the way of lightsaber combat, something I also need to work on, but there is more to combat than just the weapons we wield.

 

The Force is directing you to Mechis III, I can feel the force pulling me towards another direction. I will go to Tatooine, learn from the Mandalorians and come back to you all the stronger for it.”

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"Then go my Apprentice... Neo spoke, an understanding and proudfilled smirk upon his face as he revved his engines up and began preparations to take off, his gaze shifting toward Camik from where he sat within the TIE/D. "Grow and return to me as the warrior you determine yourself to be."

 

And with that, the TIE/D lept into the air and circled about, leaving behind the polluted atmosphere of Almas for the last time, no longer an Alcazarin, the Order dead and gone. What laid ahead was a brighter and more powerful future, one he did not take out of choice, but of necessity. It was the hand that fate had dealt, and the Force had chosen, and it was its will that he followed.

 

Only time would tell whom Neo would truly become.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Camik watched as the Tie/D lifted off into the air. His head cocked slightly to the side. It almost sounded like his Master did not want him to be a warrior. Had death been that much of a changing influence on him? Wasn’t a Sith at its heart a warrior. Even the scientist fought battles though theirs did not have with a lightsaber.

 

He shook his head and turned to walk towards his own ship. His destiny had not been laid out before him yet. The Force had not revealed that to him but one thing he was sure of he did not want to end up in that bacta tank again and he was going to work hard to ensure that did not happen again.

 

Walking onto his own ship, Camik realized this was the first time he was alone since he had first landed on Korriban. As the ship powered up he pondered this fact. He doubted it would really affect him, after all he had spent quite a bit of time alone before Korriban.

 

With the ship taking off he started to plot a course for Tatooine. This was not a vacation for him, being away from his Master but path for growth.

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  • 2 years later...

Lurching forward into the Almas system was about as satisfying as a mynock hissing as it was cooked- at least to the veteran Mandalorian soldier. Vulios smiled as he looked over the planet from the cockpit of The Trident. Amidst the darkness of the system, the Tyrant Adventure along with the imperial cruiser that accompanied them for this little playground assault looked far less menacing than he would have hoped for. Another chance for a later time. He leaned in and tapped Buya Strarr on the shoulder. “Open a comm to Major General Dul and Kami.” After he said it, he stood upright and looked out the viewport. 

 

“Alright, we’re going to go in quickly. I want the TIE’s and bombers to make a single run on the main city. Have them panicked as we land. Upon landing, deploy the AT-ST’s on the outskirts of the city of Forard. Kami, land mid city in a good deployment area. Make a show of force and meet up with us at the capitol building. Bann, Upon the walkers entering the city, flood the city perimeter with troops. I want this to be quick.” 

 

****Twenty minutes later in the City of Forard ****

 

Without much notice, the TIE’s came roaring through the skyline towards Forard with aggressive motivations. The only true warning of their intentions came through the very first blast from the TIE’s making their primary shots at whatever looked like a potential target. It took about two minutes from their first sighting for them to pass through the city, taking a few shots here and there. The TIE Bombers that came after them dropped a single blast, enough to cause a commotion in the streets. Vulios watched clear panic in the streets as The Trident landed right before the capitol building. As he walked down the ramp, screaming and panic took over the general sounds, almost drowning out the TIE’s roaring overhead as they made a few passes through the city. Stepping into the main light, the burning smell took over his nostrils even with his buy’ce. A few shots from blasters could be heard from Kami and her team, who improvised a bit and she dropped them off over a few buildings to help spread the fire arc range. 

 

“Kami, damp down your power core. We’re not here to kill everyone. Some of these people could become a part of our culture.” As he finished, he walked towards the main entrance of the capitol building, Buya Strarr and two others whom he didn’t know their exact name finally made their way down the landing ramp and joined him, weapons up and at the ready. As they got to the doors, four men armed came out along with a single woman who stood behind them. "What are your intentions here Mandalorian? To show up on our doorstep with a show of force and Sith Empire tools and weapons of war." Vulios let out a sigh and lowered his own weapon. "We are here to take possession of this planet. The show of force is to make sure that you hand it over. Otherwise things will get messy. I'd rather not start building everything up from scratch." The woman gave a clear scorn and placed her hands upon her hips in defiance. "You seem to be mistaken. You can't have something that isn't yours. And I doubt that-" "You may open fire Clan Larkin." Without another word spoken, loud fire erupted and the four armed men fell to the ground with at least two or three burn holes in their chests. Vulios pu this weapon away and stepped forward, grabbing the woman by her hair and began to pull her inside the building. "And now we will begin to discuss the terms of your complete surrender to us."

 

((House Solus Invasion Post))

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Mishuk gotal'u meshuroke, pako kyore.

 

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  • 2 weeks later...

Vulios now sat in a chair, a few of the key personnel of the city were standing awkwardly within the room looking back and forth to each other as talleys were being made of stock of what the city of Forard actually held. Conversations were being made by Kami towards a few of the officials over building redesign while the others were on their knees whimpering slightly as they were the ones who were still in refusal of accepting new control over the planet. Vulios watched the unwilling ones from his chair behind a desk with his own buy'ce on the table. He was currently the only Mandalorian who had his face exposed. After a few seconds passed by, he stood up and pulled out his beskad

 

"The terms of surrender have been made very clear. Kami, take these few with you into the war room and initiate gai bal manda. Then begin the process of rebuilding the city up to our needs. For the rest of the population... it is time for them to understand what is before them." Vulios walked up and took a woman by the hair, the same one who resisted him upon arrival. "And you are the tool that is to be used to show the way." With one hand on his beskad, the other on her hair, he dragged her along as the two 'walked' up to the roof of the main capitol building which would soon be the palace known as Dralaloriya. Once the two reached the top, Vulios moved her into a position near the edge and made sure she was on her knees. Before them was the rest of the population, enclosed by the Mandalorians and Sith Empire troopers who accompanied them to Almas. Vulios stepped forward without his buy'ce and began to shout loudly so that all would hear. The team had already setup a few droids to amplify his voice to reach the entire group gathered. 

 

"People of Almas, in the great city of Forard. You have a great opportunity that lays before you. Here is the beginning of a new power rising. You get to not only witness the rebirth and rising of a new era of Mandalorians, but you are given the chance to join in this rising power. Your choice is given is this; Join us and become vod within our aliit- or to use your simple words. Brothers and sisters within our family. For this great city will be remade into the perfect city for our rising power, turning this building into Dralaloriya. Simple words for you, Strong Capital. For those who don't wish to be apart of this great rising power, your example is right here!" Vulios put his beskad on the woman's chest. "She has chosen to never become one of us, nor to ally herself with us. She is your example of what your fate is."

 

Vulios spun himself around and had the blade cut the head clean off. The body and part of her hair fell backwards onto the building almost instantly. Her head rolled off and fell down the building and into the street before the people. Vulios then lifted his beskad into the air. "You have an hour to decide. Join the rising power and pledge yourself to the Mandalorian way and to your new Alor, Trosolus Ardell and the House of Solus... Or take your fate." Vulios lowered his beskad and put it away. Giving a look out towards his fellow vod, he gave a nod to them and then turned to walk back into the building. They would soon have their final numbers and complete control over the planet.

 

((Invasion Posts Complete))

Edited by saberforce
Color consistency

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Mishuk gotal'u meshuroke, pako kyore.

 

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Vulios oversaw a majority of the rebuilding of Forard. The spaceport was redesigned to host a Keldabe-class Battleship if it was ever needed, along with the ability to host ten light freighters. Gronn Lerr, a local man who pledged himself to the House was quick to repurpose some useless buildings into comm arrays and training facilities. He was standing in the main audience hall of Dralaoriya, the capitol building discussing things with Kami Larkin and himself when Major General Bann Dul walked in along with a few other stormtroopers. The man respected the building process of the city from afar, only putting in small and slight inputs here and there, but otherwise let the Mandaloirians build the city how they wanted. He stood for a moment on the outskirts of the conversation until Vulios signaled him to come closer. 

 

The Sith officer approached the table, which was midway between the door and the throne looking chair. It held a holoprojector that was currently displaying the main city and highlighted a few spots here and there. He stood there for a moment as Gronn finished up his report over a new dish being installed. Only once he finished did Vulios speak. “Yes Dul, what news do you bring?” “Empire news. Reports have started to circle in the smallest of ways, but there are some sources that can confirm that the Dark Lord title has passed to someone new.” The news cut through the air for a moment and every Mandalorian held their breath and looked at Vulios, who was now supposed to speak for Tros. The older Mandalorian did not hesitate for long. 

 

“Thank you Gronn. Finish up what you think is best. Kami, have your clan support Gronn in this. I think that overall, the quick formation of this city has slowly turned it from a backwater world with not much to offer the galaxy into a central hub for us Mandalorians to slowly increase in numbers. We are on the path to greatness. Let our work here be a testament to all. Everyone but Kami and Major General Bann Dul are dismissed.” Vulios walked back towards the main chair of the hall and sat himself in it as he awaited for the main chamber doors to close, leaving only Kami, Dul and himself in the room. As he sat, he pulled out his beskad and looked it over for a second. "What do you know Bann of this new Dark Lord?" The Sith officer paused for a moment. "Reputation only. She is a warrior, if the claims of rumors are true. She will look to have everyone prove themselves. I can't say for sure if she will honor what the prior Dark Lord has offered your people."

 

The words broke a tension that Kami was waiting for. "Vulios, do we really need to stay aligned to them than? We don't have time to continue to prove our salt over and over again to new people. Least of all dar'jetii. I may not have been a Mando for long, but I do know this saying well. Haatyc or'arue jate'shya ori'sol aru'ike nuhaatyc." Vulios held his hand up and looked Kami in the eye. "Kami, I like your spirit, but there are some other things to consider here. Such as the opportunity to become something that all others who claimed to lead us as a people have failed... " Vulios held up his beskad to admire it before putting it in its sheath. "True warriors on a warpath. Let's all have a glass of morning glory to discuss what is the best next move until our Alor returns from the hunt."

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Mishuk gotal'u meshuroke, pako kyore.

 

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Tros piloted the Swift Justice into the Cularin system, slowly making its way towards Almas. He pushed through his own pain for the moment, while Kot’dral sat in the back, treating his own wounds more than what the jetii did back on the jungle planet. As he made his way towards the planet’s atmosphere, he discussed details with Vulios on the comms. 

 

“In short, the rumor mill seems to be stirring a lot amongst the Sith. Bann Dul seems to think that such rumors hold enough weight to be true if they spread as much as they have.” Both men had their buy’ce off as they talked to each other. “We may want to seek out a way to further cement ourselves then with this new leader of the Sith. Maybe our rally can help support them in some way.” Vulios leaned back a bit and opened both arms as if he was presenting something to Tros. “You may be in luck then. Naboo was a targeted planet in a conquest campaign of an up and coming Sith. It’s a short jump for us if we wanted to join in.”

 

Tros face was lit up with flashing lights as he passed through the atmosphere on the way to the surface. He was thoughtful as he thought through the options on the table before him. “Tell Kami she’s in charge as we’re away until Kot’dral can fully cover. Vulios, I want the Swift Justice, The Trident, and Bloodlust fully loaded with whomever is able to go. We will begin our rally point at Naboo. Bring me a few weapons to reload. I lost a good deal of equipment on Felucia.” Tros cut the transmission to let Vulios rally the House into action. 

 

Landing fairly quickly after getting done with his conversation with Vulios, Tros had no time to fully take in the new capital planet of his House. Instead he watched as the three ships were prepared and loaded with crews. Three pilots for the ships and six Mandalorians for each ship outside of Vulios and himself. “23 Mandalorians. Not a lot.” Vulios only shrugged his shoulders as he handed over a few items to Tros. “We’ve begun the training process of a good 140 new recruits. My guess of when they’re ready… two weeks. By then we should be able to gain more numbers through our rally campaign.” 

 

As Vulios talked, Tros looked through the items handed to him. There were 2 WESTAR-35 blaster pistols, a modified MK VI Paladin blaster rifle that had scope option to fire stronger rounds or could be switched to a more rapid fire three round burst. There was also an electro-dart and a poison dart to replace in his dart launcher. As he loaded them, he was also handed a Z-6 jetpack equipped with a rocket. He replaced all of his gear and then he and Vulios boarded their ships and House Solus was off towards Naboo, ready to begin their rally campaign. Tros would spent the time on the trip applying bacta and preparing for a second round of fighting with a few stimpacks to help him get through this campaign. 

 

((Equipment has been updated here and on the character sheet to reflect these changes. ))

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Mishuk gotal'u meshuroke, pako kyore.

 

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  • 6 months later...

Kot'dral stood at the large war planning table in the main hall Dralaloriya. Kami stood next to him observing the holodisplay of the preparations taking place at the spaceport of Forard. Another, Atola stood opposite of them finishing up the report. "The Tyrant Adventure has now been loaded with the requested items from our Alor. Kage and Wuka are both preparing the armor for those less prepared. Without and beskar, the smiths have utilized a mix of duraplast, polyfibe and ciridium. Not the strongest, but I believe that the smiths are saving the Neuranium and Sarrassian for more special projects." Kot'dral lifted his hand to dismiss the audience and simultaneously looked over at Kami. "While you're slightly looped in with them, it's hard to teach these new tal'din the ways of being Mando." Kami did not have her own buy'ce on, so her expression was more obvious and open. With the eyes that widened and brows that lifted up, it gave a lot away. "Grurt has taken more time to learn the ways. Tros has been focused on his war and starting things fresh that my own time has been devoted to training decent warriors up,- Yes, I am aware that there is more to being a Mandalorian then being a warrior."

 

Kot'dral looked her over, as he almost did jump in to say what she anticipated from him. He paused for about ten seconds before looking down at the holodisplay before them. "Strength is life. It's apart of our creed here in House Solus. You are doing your part. And you've been with us for a while now. You have honor in fulfilling your current task of training the Huntsmen. Honor is life." Taking a moment to fix his kama, as he was now enforcing all of the Zealots to wear, Kami put her buy'ce back on. "Loyalty is life Kot'dral. You are the most loyal person I know, especially when it comes to Alor. You and your zealots will always fulfill your missions." She gave a slight nod and then turned and walked out of the room, leaving Kot'dral to his thoughts. He looked at the holodisplay, taking a mental picture to lock it within his own mind before turning it off. Gron Lerr walked in and stood within the doorframe to the main audience hall. "They're ready for you." Kot'dral let out a long heavy breath before walking towards the door to speak to his zealots. 

 

As he walked in, there before him stood fourteen others, Gron included. All of them with beskar'gam similar to his in design alone. All with kama's and all with the t-shape visors on their buy'ces cut off in some fashion before the base. He looked them over longer than what he was expecting, as he wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't one to normally give words. But somehow, the situation required it. "We're being tasked with a special assignment from Alor, Tros. House Solus stakes are big. When we get to the battlefield, it's expected to have us over Nal Hutta. Our objective is to get to the surface of Nar Shaddaa at all costs. We've been tasked with a prize to bring back. Let me make this clear, as Zealots for House Solus, we do not fail. Death or victory are the only options we have. We are zealots, Jatnese be te jatnese. We will not fail House Solus. The galaxy will know of House Solus after this battle. And while we bring the fear of Mandalorians back to the galaxy, they will also learn something else... Ke nu'jurkadir sha Zealots!" As he finished, all fourteen Zealot's lifted a vibrodager into the air in agreement. It was something else that marked zealots apart. We all know our weapons and how to use them. 

 

Alor : Leader

tal'din : Bloodline

Mando : Mandalorian (noun)

buy'ce : Helmet

beskar'gam ; Mandalorian armor

Jatnese be te jatnese : The best of the best

Ke nu'jurkadir sha : Don't mess with 

 

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Mishuk gotal'u meshuroke, pako kyore.

 

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  • 5 months later...

The pain that shot through his upper shoulder as Grurt sealed the wound shut made Tros turn and look at the man with an annoyed face. The look was ignored for the most part, as Kot’dral, Sarpo and Kami finished up their reports on the battle of Nar Shaddaa. They had arrived back home on Almas around two days ago, and only now that everyone was able to either sit or stand, gave their reports on the whole situation. Even with the pain in his shoulder, which oozed and leaked every few hours, he was able to be present enough to hear what everyone had to say. He stood instead of sitting down within the throne behind him, only because he felt it was needed for everyone else to see him stand. As of right now, he turned his attention back to Kami, who was finishing up her report. The pain he felt could wait. 

 

“...The loss of Fangs were high, but the damage they dealt was sufficient enough. I would say the sooner we finish up the beskad-starfighters the better. Not enough armor or fire power on the Fangs. They have a lot of speed though. Of our forces that went, less than half returned.” She turned and looked at Sarpo, keeping her own buy’ce tucked under her arm as she did. In fact, Sarpo was the only one present still with his own buy'ce on. “I doubt we’ll have anything other than the Fangs ready within the next four months. Priorities have been shifted entirely at Qat. But on that note, we do have two Crusader-class corvettes lined up in production and should be space worthy within the next four weeks. There is also a Keldabe-class Battleship being produced upon your request, Alor. That one may take another four before it’s ready. Given that our numbers dwindled for that emergence at Nar Shaddaa. But speaking of that…” 

 

Tros adjusted slightly under the pain to look at Kot’dral. His jetblack hair kept short, locked eyes with Tros for a flicker of a moment before looking at the rest of the group. “Datafiles on Nar Shaddaa were nowhere near as guarded as we thought they’d be. They were in fact being emptied by the time we got there, but what we needed was still there. Minor, almost insignificant opposition.” He withdrew three datachips and placed them upon a table that all of the clan leaders and heads gathered around. “All three contain some sort of information relevant to what we were seeking on Terra. With the chaos outside, we were fairly unchallenged. A few did try, but were little then training practice for the Zealots. Maybe we should hire them out for future training if we get bored... although, the rumors around what transpired during this is something we need to deal with Alor…” Kot’dral’s eyes locked on his. THe black eyes meet the brown eyes of Tros, who in turned had his mind replaying the events within his own head.

 

“I'm assuming everyone wants to fully know what happened in the duel between me and Terra." He looked around to get a slow confirmation of everyone's head nods to indicate that was indeed what they were wanting to hear. He then let out a sigh and looked at the table as his own memory replayed everything for him. "...Terra.. Withdrew. The battle began quickly, yet when all was said and done, she had beat me. But she choose a different option. She left her circelt within my hands and discarded her beskar’gam before me and left. It was the last thing I saw before I passed out... She has forsaken the ways of the Mandalorian and is now dar’manda.” His own eyes didn’t look up as he told them. It stung deeply for him, to have one he followed once to leave everything behind. Sure he’s had them die before, but never willingly walking away. This was new to him. He wasn't sure if it would ever leave his memory.

 

“Already there are others now wondering where she went. On all of the channels I’m hearing is that you flat out killed her and took her armor as your prize. Many are starting to search for House Solus to pledge themselves to you Tros… Do we make sure that they know?” The words that came from Sarpo had his own mind swirling around. What would he want to do? Surely taking the title under these circumstances was far from ideal. Yet, to openly declare to everyone what had transpired would cause more damage to their entire culture and history. Many who followed Terra had been lifelong Mandalorians. What did former Mand’alors do? Were they ever in such a situation? This was uncharted territory for them. And now all of the pressure of this falls upon me, another thing I did not want to have. Kami spoke up, interrupting his thoughts.

 

“The numbers from the other clans would strengthen us. We could easily scout out the ruins of Nar Shaddaa where the Blood Prince plunged the Scarab into the planet to see if her armor survived… display it?” “But it would be dishonest. Building upon a lie. Remember the creed of House Solus Kami Larkin- it would ser-” Tros held up a hand to halt Kot’dral’s speech. As he did, a pained face took over. This time not from his shoulder, but rather where he took the slugs from Terra, but lower gut and upper thigh. He took the time to sit back down in a chair that was a little bit further away from the rest of them, if only to rest.

 

“A lie we must protect though. Others have followed Mand’alor the Bloody into long and weary wars, myself included with those. The pain to know she walked away from it all… it hurts. I’m certain that others would question their own path if they knew the truth. Others would begin to doubt this House if they learned the truth. It is something that no one else outside of this room can know.” He fully leaned back within the chair that was now acting as a throne. He purposely looked slowly at each member present before him. “Let the rumors stand. Kami, send a team within a week to scout the ruins and find her beskar’gam and bring it back. Kot’dral, take over public addressing until her beskar’gam is brought here. Sarpo, send word to Avao to continue to build the ships and you are to search for a title for me. Within two weeks, I will address all of House Solus as Mand’alor.”

 

The room slowly gave slight bows and left, all except for Kot’dral, who picked up the datachips and walked closer to Tros on the throne chair. Upon reaching him, he dropped the datachips into the now extended hand of the Alor, soon to be declared Mand’alor. “Whatever happened to Hades?” Tros slowly accepted the datachips and looked at Kot’dral. Neither had their buy’ce on, allowing for both to look eye to eye. “She sent it away upon me opening fire on her. I didn’t mean to cause her any doubt. I was content to lead separately from here. My own House, not all Mandalorians. She took something upon the battle starting that was not there.” The jetblack haired Mandalorian looked at the floor for a moment. “I know you don’t believe in the gods… but perhaps they were instrumental in the outcome and everything that has transpired since you formed this House.” He then looked up and both locked eyes again. 

 

“Many things have transpired indeed. Perhaps soon after the oath of Mand’alor is taken, we should visit our Sith friends to see what is going on with them.” Almost as soon as he finished, he closed his hand that was holding the datachips into a fist and moved to stand very slowly. “But enough of that. Help me get back to our room. We need to look over these files and have some time to just ourselves.” Kot’dral smiled and got on one side of Tros to aid him towards the back quarters. This would be about the only time when the two of them could rest easily together before more things arose that would take them away from each other yet again. 

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Mishuk gotal'u meshuroke, pako kyore.

 

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  • 1 month later...

Hidden behind his buy’ce, Tros winced in pain as he shuffled himself to sit more upright before Clan Larkin’s leaders, as they began to lay out plans for recovery of objects. Meroro Crir and Buya Strarr gave reports of movement still on Nar Shaddaa, along with rumors. “... And while movement is still happening there, I doubt there will be much of any resistance if we showed up with a squad of Fangs to search the area.” Kot’dral turned his head to look at Tros, not being as subtle as he would have thought in his own opinion. Lucky for him, Kami also gave a loud grunting cough to let her speaker, Buya know that she may have overstepped a line. 

 

“Fangs would telegraph us being there, and draw unwanted attention. No one knows all that went down. I trust the Huntsmen of Clan Larkin know this…” Kami stepped forward to take center stage. “We do Mand’alor. We would be using smaller shuttles, from a local world to draw less attention. For this purpose of recovering the beskar’gam would fall to only two teams. I do not have the faith in all of the clan members to handle this yet.” There was some movement from the others within the clan to make it clear they were disappointed with the words used. Kami didn’t acknowledge them, but instead kept her head forward. It was a move that Tros respected from her. 

 

“I have word that one of our Crusader-class corvettes will be ready for movement. You may use it, but keep it out of sight. Do not engage unless you are certain to leave no survivors. Go.” The dismissal was quick and all of Clan Larkin knew what they had to do, leaving the room quickly to get their job done. Upon them fully leaving the room, Kot’dral turned to face Tros. “Forgive me, but I think that maybe there is too much faith in that Clan. What has been proven outside of Kami?” Tros leaned in heavily to one side of the chair and looked up. Kot’dral echoed what many thought. He knew this from the whispers of others around the throne. Letting out a heavy sigh, he kept his eyes locked on Kot’dral from behind his buy’ce

 

“Many clans form House Solus. Many Houses form Mandalorians. One House is not better than another. Battle in combat against them if you wish to prove something. Otherwise I will not have Clans bickering like little children. I place my trust in all of the Clans, as I am only as strong as the weakest Clan that I lead. To be declared Mand’alor, I must be able to trust every Clan, every House. Every vod. And they must trust me.” Tros now took the time to stand up and get directly eye level with Kot’dral. “To grow in numbers, we must be willing to let others have a trial by fire experience…”

 

He then slowly began to talk down the small platform of stairs and towards the main war table in the middle of the room. “Speaking of experience… Have we heard anything from our Sith allies?” Kot’dral delayed himself in moving towards his leader. The words stung slightly, but even he knew the truth behind them. He let out a breath before starting to walk down the stairs to join the Mand’alor. “No word. I know that they felt slightly defeated after Nar Shaddaa, however successful individual missions may have gone. Lord Mavanger did as he was supposed to, our own reported that. Rumor has it the remaining of their forces have gathered on an ancient Sith world… No clue as to what that is though…” A slight head turn was all Kot’dral got from Tros. Mand’alor kept his own head in the position looking slightly back at his second in command for a long moment.

 

“Reach out and make contact. Then gather your best Zealots and a few Pathfinders. I have something brewing within my mind…”

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