Log:Sith Empire: Black Fleet I
A mission to end a terrible threat
OOC Date: June 12, 2023
Location: Deep Space
Participants: Sith Empire, Tamsin Cas, Bors Thul, Ban Iskender, Zoka Kanas, Aryn Cortess
A shuttle being hastily flown by Aryn Cortess makes its way ahead of a vanguard fleet. Warfare has broken loose between the two entities; on one 'side', the strengthened might of the Sith Empire fires relentlessly, and the other side is a dark fleet, lacking power at first and lingering in the void of space. The only reason the Sith knew to attack was thanks to their sensors telling them 'something' was there.
Torpedoes and laser grid defenses fire off from a pair of Star Destroyers, the light show giving away the shadowy shapes of the ships that constitute the 'Black Fleet'. A sing-songy voice pervades the comms, overriding every frequency, <<"Your tools of war are meaningless. You wage war against a storm, and nature cannot be stopped.">>
The shuttle that has made it within vicinity of the black fleet angles for their flag ship, the Inevitable. It is an ancient vessel, but by every standard of war, it should not be flight capable. Its hull is littered with pock marks from battles long past, and old ship collisions stick up like warts against its hull. Boarded countless times, the Inevitable lives up to its name because inevitably, it always wins. (Like Sebulba!)
"There are no shields to speak of, so landing in the bay will prove to be the least challenging feat of this venture. Prepare yourselves to board, we make for the bridge and its admiral."
Aryn, in her early days, was a proven ace pilot. Their approach and successful landing seem to indicate she 'still has it', but there were no hints of pride about accomplishing this challenge. The worst was yet to come, it seemed.
The ship settles in the open hangar, skids emerging beneath the vessel before settling down heavily. The ramp comes down, sallying out from the white foggy steam expressed from the cooling jets underneath the Sith shuttle. Silence awaits them in this large cruiser hangar bay. No lights are on, but somehow, life support is. How the vaccuum of space is held at bay remains to be seen.
They were indeed, going into the unknown. And, as they had already announced themselves, Achlys saw no reason to hide her light beneath a bushel, as it were. So, as the shuttle landed, and a moment was taken to ensure that all necessary items were indeed on their person, Achlys allows the hilt of their lightsaber to settle into the palm of their hand, keeping the angle such that should the blade be ignited, they were unlikely (!) to injure anyone who did not deserve to be so. "I am ready."
Kit check completed, and finishing twitching over being a passenger, Lord Thul's helmet was on and the old Katarn suits visor was glowing icy cerulean as he made it to his feet. Patting his ammo pouches and the slung rifle hanging from one shoulder while drawing the Bilari blade from the place it hung like a belt around his waist.
<"Thul, ready. I'm reading on comms as well, how me?">
Checking his system charges, including the atmosphere supply on his suit - ready to engage seals when the situation is most likely to call for it.
Darth Durandus had donned the mask in expectation of a difficult battle to come. His voice is level and deliberate as the gentleman voices, <"Atmospheric seals are advisable. Be wary of all contacts."> Lightsaber already in gauntleted hand, he will wait to ignite the weapon until disembarking, but no longer.
It's not like the Sith would go in without Stormtroopers. The red armored forces were lined up and ready to move, and among the group was ET-6260. She was quickly checking over her T-21 again, ensuring that the settings were all correct.
When the shuttle finally sets down, she tenses up, waiting for the ramp to drop, only for it to be met by silence and emptiness. It's eerie. She expected to be met by blaster fire.
The hatch opened, and the group came out. It was not warfare the moment they stepped out; silence reigned and they came face to face with no less than 100 husks. Husks were formally people, their skin, features, memories, and insides have all been consumed by a sentient oil-like ooze that now fills their form completely. Eyes which were once white now stare with darkened gazes, and voices that were disembodied echoed the last words of their dying host as the entity Mnggal Mnggal consumed them from the inside out.
"HELP ME!" One screams, while others moan in agonizing pain. They are not zombies, though one could argue they shared similarities. Not well known to many, the MM was a hive mind that stretched across the galaxy. To speak with one was to speak with all, and from time to time individuals presented themselves, the true architect or the true enemy, guided all with a sing-songy, riddling voice.
The one hundred husks that await the travelers part, creating a path toward the bridge. "Thiiiiis way," beckons the sing-songy voice, those husks on each side of the path speaking in unison. They gesture.
Aryn, who has activated her lightsaber, raises the growling weapon to provide light. Beckoned, yet unwilling to cooperate, she bides her time to strike and follows the path. "The only way is forward," she says to the others with her, and the entity answers, "Yessss."
The fire blade ignited, as Achlys made their way down from the shuttle. Speaking to the stormtrooper, and any of the party who had not before encountered, moving to the group's ahred comms, "There is no saving these, no matter what they cry or how much they plead. Nothing destroys them save fire, truly. Be careful. Even a drop of their sustance will infect you. There is no salvation should that happen." They kept their pace in time with Aryn, moving warily, attention in all directions.
<"Some years since the last we ran into this thing..."> Bors comments, moving to a flank position at Aryn and Ban's sides. The older man's movements a little more ginger from the caution required when in proximity to these things. Suit sealed and on canned air, the Lord Thul's chain blade snaps up to ready shape - power couplings humming to life.
<"Can't flank them. Can't fake them out. As long as there's more than one that can see you, they can all see you."> head on a swivel, quietly wishing he'd been given a mission with fighters, but there's reasons for all of this and he wouldn't say no.
Durandus lights his saber promptly upon emerging from the shuttle, the radiant scarlet blade held out to one side away from the others even before his boots have landed on the ancient deck. Any expression is lost behind his faceplate, but disgust is thick in his few words: <"It shall fail this day as ever it had failed, ere now.">
Well that's not disturbing at all. The red armored trooper raises her rifle when she sees the forms, but there's no attack yet. Instead they're summoning them forward. She's following the lead of the Sith, after all, but she keeps her weapon trained on various husks as she moves with the group. She probably has enough ammo. Assuming they can get killed. She's not entirely sure, looking at them.
One foot in front of the other Zoka, she tells herself, as she continues to step forward. That's the only way to get through this at this point.
The path to the bridge is a long, twisting one. There were husks stationed all along it though, and when the party arrived within proximity, the husk reacted by raising their arm and pointing. Some twitched with the movement, the animalistic nature likely the result of each husk being filled with ooze and needing to move the substance to make an appendage work. It did not operate like muscle and skeleton, making it odd and difficult for sensors like LIDAR to track.
The bridge of the flagship was large. It was likely from this design of ship that Imperials learned to put their ship stations in the floor below the command aisle. Normally, the ship would be alive with activity, the sound of electronics and alarms; here? It is just silence.
At the closest spot near the viewport, a single figure is seated in a foreboding command chair, and they rise with jerky like motions and point.
"The Sith Lords send their ambassadors? Good." Speaks the voice, bootfalls following as it closed the distance. "Stay back, Entity. We will not suffer your filth for longer than necessary." Aryn holds the lightsaber up, the red tip growling and casting the red hue ahead of the group.
"It matters little," Says the Admiral before it walks itself onto the blonde's blade, making itself disintegrate and shower the air with ashen matter. The voice is picked up by one of the guarding husks, "Our matter cannot be destroyed wholly. You were invited to our fallow corridors to discuss an arrangement." It says in sing songy tone, before deepening into a more menacing voice. The twenty or so Husks occupying the bridge remain at their stations, but their mouths move, creating incoherent whispers that either echo key words made by their 'leader', or other indiscernible details.
"We have no arrangement save one," Aryn confides aloud. "Your destruction. I need not an Empress to convince me to return you to the void, but it was her command. We are here to oblige. Your mission is at its end, entity. You will not take this world."
The new entity, moving in its jerky motions, begins to chuckle. The chuckle takes on a new form of a laugh shared by all. "We.. already.. have. You are too late. Negotiation was intended to make this more sporting, but your deaths will be sport enough. Long and agonizing will they be; we shall savor each morsel until the last, and listen to your dying cries for mercy for all eternity. It shall be your legacy.. your last moments."
"Enough.. SEAL the doors," Aryn says, pointing toward the way they came in. "Slay the husks and commandeer this ship."
Twenty (20) husks move to prevent these actions, but stormtroopers open fire, flame units igniting their flame packs to keep the initial rush at bay. The roar of the flames is drowned out by the cackling laughter of husks as they move.
Hearing the order proved more likely to gain Achlys' movement than any threat from the Entity, and they turned, blade rising to attack stance as they selected a path that would take them between the storm troopers and towards the door to the bridge. Best to close that and soon. The less husks invading the command room the better. One of the husks fell to their blade, but striking was not wholly successful. Adjustments would be needed to account for the inhuman movements of the bodies. One would hope such adjustments would come quickly.
<"Would be greatly sustaining were there knowledge of the beast's weakening, but time marches on and so to does it. Endless."> A bitterness in the words, expression lost behind the visor of his helmet. The black hued suit, painted matte to reduce chance of reflection, seeming to absorb light that strikes it.
Silencing once they're on the bridge, listening to the back and forth, head shaking slightly at the inevitable assault by mnggal-mnggal, utilizing the flame troopers work at fending off the initial rush to start his way for the bridge doors - the weapon in hand more to keep his immediate vicinity clear - as their swinging, jerking, movements keep the husks from being struck by him.
<"Lords, if thee give cover at the door I can seal them."> in theory.
<"Good, I detest wasted time,"> Darth Durandus sniffs sharply as the 'negotiations' end before truly beginning. Lord Thul's comment as to clearing the door is acknowledged with a smart turn on his booted heel and stalking advance toward the cluster of husks obstructing the bridge blast doors. Two are smote unto embers, a third escapes.
As soon as things all go to hell, the ET-6260, who had been continuing to train her weapon on the husks as they went, immediately opens fire at the one she had finally settled on when everything started.
The trio of shots from the large T-21 lances out, two going wide and the third hitting the husk in the shoulder, only to have that ooze warp back around and re-fill the hole, save for the part of the uniform that had been burned clean through, <"Dank ferrik."> She curses, waiting for the weapon to cycle the gas into the chamber to fire the next burst.
Aryn's second (technically) victim of the encounter is transformed to ash the moment her lightsaber cut through the ancient flesh. The laughter of the entity seemed to give the floating ash life as it billowed out from her passing through it. She closes the distance to the command chair, spinning gracefully and slashing down a second foe. When she straightens, she is faced off with a front of entities, their dark eyes staring through the glowing red hue back at her.
The doorway is cleared when a gutsy trooper tackles the evading entity that had danced away from both Ser Bors' and Lord Durandus' blades. The two hit the deck, sliding out of the way. Had the trooper any notion of a follow up attack, it's squandered the moment the entity takes hold of their neck and rips their helmet off. Ooze is vomited from the eyes, nostrils, ears, and mouth onto the face of the brave stormtrooper, and the evidence of its presence disappears as it enters their pores, causing pain the moment it was inside. He screams in agony, and the husk he got away from the door rises back up, reforming its mass and self to carry on.
The doorway is cleared, and the controls to trigger the lock-down are to the side of the entrance, a manual lever that just needs to be pulled down to initiate the blast doors.
Fifteen entities remain, held at bay still by flames but not falling entirely; not yet.
With the trooper sacrificing themselves, the way was clear to make out the door lock. Achlys, however, was not close enough to grasp the lever with a hand, nor were they likely to take a hand from their blade. But they were not unprepared for such eventualities, and the force of their will flared, as they reached out with an invisible hand, the lever pulled firmly downward, the sound of the blast doors slamming shut likely coming a few seconds after, as they turned their attention to the remaining husks, a quick dance as they adjusted ashing one body and then a second. That there were now injured on the field did not go unnoticed, as they moved to shield the Lord and the trooper.
Attempting to weave his way towards the objective, the path cleared - Lord Bors finds his forward momentum added upon when he is struck in the back hard enough to lift the old fighter pilot half-off his feet. Forced into a skittering, skipping, set of steps with the gaping wide hatchway and the creatures beyond it there to greet him.
<"Bollocks...">
Eyes beginning to squeeze shut when the hatch slams closed and then he bashes into it at a fast jog. At least he's not going through - but the clattering impact. Blade being used to keep his balance and a set of connectors eject from the back of his left gauntlet. Sword leaned on the bulkhead, so he can get the jacks plugged in and starts working.
<"Doors sealing..."> frowning within his helmet and listening for the CLUNK of lock-bolts slamming home and magnetics engaging.
They're moving too damn quick, the trooper watching her fellows go down to the horde as she backs up, soon finding herself the last one standing. A claw comes out of nowhere and catches her on the left side of her head, sending her spinning and crashing into the ground near the door panel.
Despite the blood now filling her eyes and the HUD inside the broken helmet shorting out, she fires another burst at the husk that had just hit her, her aim sending those shots into the ceiling as she struggles to try to push herself back to her feet.
Durandus takes swift survey of the deteriorating situation, sees one trooper afflicted in the leg, and swiftly lops the limb off with a pass of his sword. A thrust wards one of the husks back, however briefly, and he spares the third pass of his sword to decapitate the trooper who had cleared the door, at the cost of an agonizing death. Durandus voices to the man, "Well done, trooper," adding enough of the Force to his words to ensure that the last thing the dying man hears is the commendation, before a lightsaber ends his suffering.
The fight becomes much more isolated after the hatch shuts and seals. Troopers still hold their own despite taking casualties. Several of the troopers ignite shields on their gauntlets (more like bucklers), then extend their stun batons, twisting them to generate the arcing electricity. With the fight moving more to close quarters, flamethrowers are cast aside in haste.
Further within the bridge, Aryn fends off a trio, eliminating a foe with one swing but handedly missing the other two as they tumble and dodge.
With the bridge doors successfully sealed, only one matter remains: taking the bridge.
As the entities began to try to close in on the team, and the troopers tried tog et in their way, Achlys tracked the movements of ET-6260, maintaining their steps so that any attacks aimed at the trooper would only encounter the Sith instead. Two attacks aimed in their direction were batted away, the flame troopers putting paid to those, and a third falling to Achlys' own blade, "Stay down, ET-6260. And behind me." Healing would need to wait. For now, "Lord Thul, even if we bar the doors, can they seize control of the ship from elsewhere?" Not a pilot, this one, but canny enough to ask questions.
The trooper struggled to keep herself upright, when she saw Achlys step in in front of her. Vision blurred, she let herself drop back to one knee, and took off her helmet so she could try and put a clotting agent on her bald head. If anything the damaged helmet was making it harder for her to shoot at this point. There'd be time for proper treatment after the threat was finished off.
"Father grant me the will to be as I need be despite my agonies..." Murmuring within his helmet, his chin having toggled his mic off for the moment. Bors rolls against the bulkhead, looking to Lord Durandus and nodding before he pushes off. The chain blade straightening again and blazing to violet life when he swings, grunting when he feels and hears the creak of a cracked rib,
<<"Possible. A second command may yet exist on this aged craft, but once we clear the rabble I can see to override protocols.">> fully in his element, Bors responds, instinctively switching to comms, hoping to maintain some sort of operational secrecy. Hissing out a grunt when the blade impacts wall and then weaves through thin air when the focus of his assault bends impossibly backwards to evade.
<<"Engineering remains yet the worry... But if we swap IFF targeting on the ships guns and set to track and fire, we can start on their fleet while we make for the bridge pods.">>
Darth Durandus aims his first cut opposite the chaotic slashing of Bors' chain whip, so that the husk that moves away from the wounded Alderaanian is promptly rendered to embers and ash by the Sith swordsman. Turning once again on his heel in a movement sharp enough to send his black shoulder-cape flaring to one side, he stalks back toward a pair of the afflicted stormtroopers, striking each once: a left and right arm, both encased in armor, land on the deck with a clatter. He spares no words before turning to assist in the operation of the ancient vessel, as best he may.
The trooper struggled to keep herself upright, when she saw Achlys step in in front of her. Vision blurred, she let herself drop back to one knee, and took off her helmet so she could try and put a clotting agent on her bald head. If anything the damaged helmet was making it harder for her to shoot at this point. There'd be time for proper treatment after the threat was finished off.
Once the blood was clotted, the young Rattataki was able to push herself back up to her feet, using something to wipe the blood out of her eyes as she tries to scan the area. It seems like they may have brought down the last of those threats, at the moment. But there were hundreds more outside of those doors, locked down though they may be now.
Aryn deactivates her weapon when the chaos dies down. Troopers who remain, injured, but alive, have Lord Durandus to thank for stemming the spread of the parasite. The platoon gathers itself, following the commands of Lord Bors, the most experienced pilot among their number. Guns on the Inevitable come to life, orienting toward the black fleet and opening fire. Sith war ships begin to arrive in system, the main body of the fleet joining the advance party to witness the carnage.
Boarding vessels from the black fleet launched and peppered the surface hulls of the two Stardestroyers that had initially arrived. Presumably, MM and Sith Marines were fighting, attempting to stem the spread of the parasite. Unfortunately, the main body fleet turned THEIR guns on the 'infected' ships and began to fire. It was the only way to be sure.
The crew on the Inevitable were bid to leave by the escape pods. They launched, watching from the viewports as Empress Kessa's fleet decimated the remains of her advance party and the black fleet, but debris and other launched pods rain down upon the planet.
When Empress Kessa called the Sith Lords and Trooper Platoon, it was to convey a, <<"...new mission. When you arrive on the surface, get to the Sith outpost and organize its defense. We need to evacuate our cache and stores on the surface...">> It does not look like there would be much a respite for the strike team.
