Naboo

[Delta73]

The Marie arrived in style, leaving a flaming trail of death. The Turbolasers firing away blindly, destroying everything that moved, or peeked its cute head from its tunnel. And so in the manner of the hated, godmodding, chadlike, Chaos Gods the Marie arrived.

 

Yet by the time they neared Theed, the lasers had ceased, and banners of gold streamed from its sides. It now appeared in the garb of the diplomatic vessel of Melida/Daan. Fully recognized by the embassy in Theed. The prior vessel of the Melida/Daan had been shot down earlier in the day. Taking with it the entire Daanish senate. Soon the fateful Marie, was nearing the royal landing bays.

 

There was a celebration there and thousands of citizens and political figures were in attendance, including the aged Jar-Jar Binks, who had come out of his retirement home in the mid east. He was shakily waving to the crowed and the approaching ship. His legs were shaking from the advanced Alzheimer's that he suffered from. Yet he was in attendance, with many many others. Standing in the makeshift tent that covered the remains of the old palace, long since stolen by the exuberant Smash.

 

The Marie approached its docking area, and Jar-Jar made his way to the elevated platform, using a cane forged from the reeds of the swamps. And when he waved to the Marie...the helmsman cut power to the engines, dropping the Marie from the sky and right upon the wizened old Jar-Jar. With the screeching durasteel and voice could be heard.

 

"Oh, Noosahhh!"

 

A spray of blood filled the air, and the gungan was squashed. A collective gasp was heard from the crowd as a stream of pamphlets shot from the cannons. All preaching the gospel of CoreSec and its responsibly for today's actions. The landing ramp dropped like a stone upon a procession of flower and gift bearing children. As the ramp came to a stop, Agents flooded out, dressed in uniforms of pink, silver, and tarter. With CoreSec Emblazoned upon their backs and chests. Blaster fire streamed like lava into the attendees. Sending the crowd into a frenzy. Parents trampled children, children trampled pets...it was a mess.

 

Delta, with a high plumed hat upon his head strode forward to the royal family who stood frozen in fear upon the edge of the platform. "You're coming with us!" He sounded very cheery, yet when one of the men hesitated, Delta blew his brains across the faces of the others.

 

"Boys! Put the city to the sword!"

[Delta73]

With the captives safely aboard, as well as the rest of the agents who had looted, plundered, sacked, pillaged, raped, killed, slaughtered, slandered, molested, teased, murdered again, teabagged, and who had also spray painted racial slurs and epitaphs concerning gungans, came back aboard the ship. The landing struts withdrew, and Delta retrieved the old Jar-Jar's head. He Had the head sent to be bronzed for Smash's Art gallery, as well as the meat sent to a market in Coruscant, to be fed to beggars.

 

The Marie took off from the burning and destroyed city, and hovered far above it. The Turbolasers took careful aim, and fired upon the huge power generation facility. The lasers punctured the great ceiling and wreaked havoc. The power was released in a fury. Great arcs of electricity jumped into the great ocean. Instantly electrocuting fish and gungan alike, and frying many as they slept in their great under water metal castles. The rotting in the sea would ruin the ecosystem for thousands of generations. Not to mention the almost and complete annihilation of an entire race. It was racist to the extreme. But not to fear, power was also dumped into the cities' centre by the exploding power generatior. Sending millions of watts and amps through those who remained alive.

 

The Marie spent a good hour setting forests on fire, and melting the blessed architecture of the old city. It was doomed. And now the planet was a dead world, polluted by huge fires, and a destroyed ocean. The Marie escaped unscathed to its next atrocity.

[Delta73]

This was an incredibly close duel. It was incredibly cinematic on both sides. I must say the ‘lighting yourself on fire’ technique is rarely seen but very effective. It cast the whole duel in its firelight. 

 

Let's start off with the criticism mixed with the positives. 

Mythos, you had a good amount of what I would call specialized weapons in your fireteam. Though they were not used as often as some have used them, they were still very heavily used. Flechettes at least in modern fire teams for the Rebels/Empire are relatively rare. To see them plus a scattergun used is a bit more than one would expect for a non legendary ranked character. However you offset this by taking realistic and heavy losses. I would say you bordered on taking too much damage relative to what your opponent took. 

 

Zendrin, you did a great job embodying the art of the warrior, however I would have liked you to take a bit more effective damage. Mythos lost a lot in each of his posts, you took some shrapnel that didn't really affect your combat effectiveness at all. This to me is not respecting your opponents attacks. If you are struggling on how to address exceptional weaponry like what Mythos had, I would recommend using your full warrior kit. You could have used armour here. Not having armour is like leaving a whole part of your kit behind. 

 

Overall while it was very close, we must always have a winner:

Mythos von Howlster 

 

[Delta73]

The fires were visible from space, a large blot of dark, glowing at the edges as the fire spread throughout the capital. A beautiful capital, its granite columns and flying buttresses now nothing more than a blackened and melting ruin. The forests of trees reduced to ashen timber piles, covering the graveyard of native animals. It was strange that such a scene could affect him, even a dozen years after committing a similar atrocity. But the sight of the fire brought a swift rush of emotion, even as the command shuttle dipped into the upper atmosphere of the planet. 

 

What was this waste? What was this wanton destruction? 

 

It was that dratted little conscience popping up again. He sneered out the window and looked away from the rampant fires. Concentrating instead on his uniform, the sheer black officer’s outfit was almost unfitting, the blue badge of the Darkwatch stood out beside the insignia of the Sith Empire. A spider. A spider who no longer existed. 

 

There would be hell to pay for that. And as strong as Nyrys. No Ailbasí. That was how he knew her, and despite her new title, rank and power. She was still just a lost college student whose’ father had placed under his protection. And what did Dagon think now? Now that his little girl had tread in his footsteps, and had burned an entire civilization to the ground? 

 

Delta shivered and pulled on his coat, whose crimson lining shone in the reflected light of the great fires. He did not relish that eventual meeting for there would be hell to pay. All of it Delta's. For he had long ago failed that mission. 

 

He gestured to one of the Subalterns that appeared at the end of the landing ramp. "Take me to the Dark Lord. Now." 

 

And his nostrils were filled with the acrid smoke of a dying nation.  

[Delta73]

The smell brought him back. 

 

The crisp ozone of expended fuel and long lasting fires. The sharp scent of burnt bone and slagged permacrete. He stepped over a long line of blackened stone that had turned to a molten puddle under the heat of a turbolaser. It had supported a house once. The rubble and blackened dwarfish bodies told him that. Bodies always shrunk in the heat of these kinds of fires, grown men turned to carbonized skeletons that lay in crumpled twisted heaps. 

 

But that was how war had been for a thousand generations. And before beautiful cities were turned to rubble for some Sith lord to get his revenge for some small slight, they were destroyed over resources, or the love of a woman. He let the smell of death fill his nostrils, and reflected on this long war. Too long of a war, a war seemingly without end. How long had it been? Had it started with Furion? That great escalade with the Mad Hutt in the ruins of the Senate? Or did it go back to a fight that had never truly ended even with the mass pardons of a war lost and won? 

 

Another step, another body. Another thousand lonely corpses getting dumped into a mass grave. Then into the solace of an empty palace. The smells changed, the lighting changed, and doubting Ca’Aran became again the dutiful soldier. 

 

He smiled warmly and grabbed off his cap, offering a stiff and overly formal bow that did not mesh with the grin. 

 

“Well it certainly looks better than this once peaceful planet my Lady. The forge world is up and operating at peak proficiency, It only needs raw ores, and the computer system assures me it can build us an army worthy of any great Empire.” 

 

The grin became a warm smile. 

 

“How are you?” 

 

He wanted to say more, to kiss her and hold her close, to call her Ailbasí instead of the formalities of her newly acquired rank. To ask her if it had been worth it. But that would come later. Or so he hoped.

[Delta73]

Just like the last dark lord before him. For Furion had departed under equally mysterious circumstances and had left the Sith Order of the time in the lurch. A power vacuum that had not been easily filled, which had left a trail of bodies from Tatooine to Carida. The result of which had been the destruction of Coruscant and the overthrow of the Galactic Alliance. The death of trillions and the start of a new calendar. That power vacuum had spawned Faust, and what woe had befallen the Galaxy. 

 

If Delta had looked at his hands, he would have seen that blood on them. Dripping from the ceremonial white leather to run like a river in the halls of Theed. He was no blameless pawn, if it had not been for the old commando the Empire would never have made it to Onderon. Twelve trillion innocent people would still be living happy blissful lives and he would still be sitting in a Black Sun office on Bespin. The same Bespin he had helped sink a decade ago. He was a man defined by the blood he had helped spill, both directly and indirectly. It had started in a tent on Christophsis and now it had brought him here. Perhaps in the reflection it was better to not think about it at all. Lest the blood drown him. 

 

So he kissed her hand and stood at her right side. A prince of the blood. So crowned by her predecessor, he took his place again. Come what may he would face the tide of blood. Washing himself in it, until he became it, for in the blood he could not feel. 

[Delta73]

Delta’s cold blue eyes watched the masses as they declared their allegiance to the Dark Lord. They were members of the royal houses, the force users and abusers, who held rank for their natural talent. Another flaw of the Spider. He had let the Empire expand beyond its capabilities, letting anyone in with a pulse and the ability to choke an innocent life out with the force. These men and women had not been there since the beginning. They did not know what they were signing up for, they had not lived in the shadow of an enemy Republic. Even as incompetant as the Galactic Alliance had been, it had hunted the Sith to nearly extinction. 

 

These were children when compared to those Sith he had once fought alongside. Those Sith that had melted worlds and doomed entire systems to their whims. They were signing up for their destruction. A great culling that they embraced with open arms and open hearts. And many would die whimpering in Alliance prisons, murdered by their guards like the Sith Lords of old. Where was the White Wolf? The Golden Lord? The Dark Spider? They were gone from this galaxy, their souls wandering far beyond reach, while their descendants played in the ashes of their hard forged empire. An Empire trillions had died to achieve, and which none had reaped the benefits. Perhaps, death would be the final victory for the Sith Empire. A place long remembered in a history book. 

 

Where were these children during the long years under the yoke of the republic? Where were they when Ziost was destroyed, and the temple on Coruscant sacked and plundered? Only Sheog remained of that once great race of Sith Lords. And even he was beginning to stumble into madness, if not embody it heart and soul. Would this new generation be as dedicated to the forever war? 

 

Only time would tell, and despite his reservations, the Dark Lord was right. They had to preserve what they could, escape into the wilderness of wild space and live to fight another day. If they held on for longer then they would be fully routed, and the blood would fill the space between the stars. 

 

With a fluid motion he drew his ceremonial sword from its scabbard and reversed the grips, extending it to the Dark Lady. He knelt with the motion, his crimson cloak spreading about him like a fountain of blood. 

 

“Your army stands ready. Come what will.” 

 

But they would need to kill the momentum of the Imperial Remnant’s Empress, and leave the building of the galaxy to the bureaucrats of a New Republic.

[Delta73]

He could taste the silence that filled the great chamber. Had a thousand foolish dreams in the hearts of young Sith Lords just died? Would the young Darth Mavanger be able to successfully assassinate the Imperial Remnant’s Empress? And the idea of some kind of weapon that could permanently kill a likely cloned and backed up force user made Delta shiver. When had they developed such a thing, and why? To open that type of pandora’s box was foolishness. And if it was something that could kill a soul with relative ease, it would not be five years before Rebel or New Republic assassins stalked the halls of Onderon killing as they went. 

 

He reversed his sword of rank and slid it into its sheath. He would allow any of the younger members of the Sith ranks to speak first, to give them the chance they wanted at power and prestige. Delta would go where the Dark Lord commanded. As always.

[Delta73]

If the infighting in the Black Sun had been horrifying, this was something all too familiar. So when there was a lull, he spoke up.

 

“Reputations be damned.” Delta inclined his head to the Lord Mavanger then to the struggle between master and apprentice that was happening before them all. “Stop playing out your power fantasies and kinks while at court.”  

 

He shrugged. His cape swirling around his shoulders like a waterfall of blood. 

 

“If you all lived up to your reputations that you hold so high we would not be worrying about a New Republic or a revenant Empire. If you all fought the Rebels with as much effort as you put into talking about yourselves, then we would have ended them once and for all over Onderon three kriffing years ago. Enough. We have a long partisan war ahead of us.Let us plan this great final battle and be done with it.” 

 

He looked to the Dark Lord.

[Delta73]

Delta stayed at the periphery, until he heard the Sith master speak in his language. A language he had not earned. Delta was confused by it, he had not seen a Sith Lord that had come from the Mandalorian worlds in a very long time. His ice blue eyes stared at the Sith Lord for a moment before he offered Mandalore a crisp salute. He did not salute the Sith but merely gave him a slight nod. “Delta seven three at your service. Trained in espionage, assassination, and commando tactics. Wherever you need us, say the word.” 

 

 

[Delta73]

 

Delta watched the Sith Lord turn and walk away from the corner of his eye. It was odd to see this much infighting, even in the Sith order where disputes usually left one choking to death in a mess of blood. He had risen through the ranks of three organizations, and this was the worst he had seen. The republic had the simple rule of ‘you cannot advance in rank as you are a clone and thus not a person.’ Black Sun had the rule of ‘you do not have three million credits to bribe your way into the next position.’ And now the Sith seems to just be in a free for all. This dispute was completely avoidable, and Delta had no clue why the sith had decided to continue to defy his commanding officer in front of his subordinates. 

 

It should have been resolved by Jurisdictions and a firing squad, not a knife to the face. This had left both sides dissatisfied, but Delta did not particularly blame the mandalorian. He would have done worse with such an insult. Especially if he was Mandalore. 

 

He took the complement from Akheron with a bow then answered Mandalore’s question.

 

“I Keep my connections to the old criminal world. Most have been scattered to the wind but I can reach out.” 

[Delta73]

Delta nodded his blond head, the lines alongside his eyes creasing with his smile. 

 

“I have not known Sith to show restraint when the innocent lay beneath their boots. The Imperials know this well, and they will no doubt fight to the bitterest of ends. Then we will find honour in the welter of their blood. Godspeed.” 

 

He turned and with a crisp salute to both Tros and the Sith Lord. Strode off towards the waiting shuttles. There was much to do.

[Delta73]

Cold blue eyes looked from behind an iron visor to the eyes of his lover. Was she just one in a long trail of failed romances? Or would she prove to be something else? She was his stability in the constantly shifting sands of the galactic war. Without her, he knew that he would be yet another mindless soldier marching under a flag that did not care about him. Like he had been all of his life. But was such consciousness worth the price of entry? What were these feelings and failings when compared the embrace of honour and duty? There was something to be said about the faceless visor which he had spent the majority of his life hiding behind. It allowed him to bury his consciousness a mile behind durasteel. Without it, his heart hurt from a million wounds. Most self inflicted. 

 

So he bowed low to the Dark Lord, and placing his grey helm upon his blonde head, he walked into the troop transport bound to Onderon. From there it would join the Dark Lord at the Empire’s newest conquest.