Jenrak
02-09-2005, 21:56
The Catastrophe, the Moving Throne
He sat there, his arms crossed over his chest, his skull white mask barely hiding the black, empty, soulless eyes that trickled in his body, the hands still delicately dripping with blood on his shining steel gauntlets, fingers flickering amongst the everlasting candles of light, red rays of flaming fire still perched on his walls. He stood there, his eyes in a grimace, his fingers in a fist, and his form standing tall and strong. No one ever saw beneath the bloody red robes that hung from his shoulders, or the dark jet black cape the perched itself around him, consuming the very stone foundations of his precious bridge, the lights still flickering a red ray of doom towards his foes. For he was an enemy, to life, and all of it’s great trappings, and he lives yet still so that he may release his foes’ souls into the cavernous emptiness of nihilism. Many people uttered his name throughout his ship, and throughout his fleet, but they say it with a frightening glimpse, for he heard the echoing words, the wandering minds still etched deeply into his thoughts. The man he was, was dead. He was no longer the valorous soul he stood as. He stood as a new force, a new threat, no longer an asset to the vaunted universe. His name was Darth Totalius, the leader of the fleets of the Mobile Empire.
For many, many years he sat on his abode, watching and waiting, always looking past the stars in the brim beyond, to look for flesh and bone to feed his everlasting bloodlust, to feed the bloodlusts of his victims, and always find a way to keep them sustained. Always finding a way to keep them under his grasping fist, his closed hands of power. Now, his powers usually waded, but always it came back, in full wane, in full strength. Now, he was at a time of wading control, and his legions became restless, waiting for a victim to plunge their sucking fangs into, and burst only with the necessities of life, so that they may take it from others. A council was held, in the chambers of torment, as corpses, still rotting, blood feeding afresh the running creeks of red that trickled down into the usually empty gauntlet. As always, the Commanders had things to disagree on. Totalius, like always, would wrestle control on the decisions.
“We must keep our strength nigh and vigilant.” He said, in his cruel voice, his voice holding a swift paining action of torment, like a thousand people screaming out his words, as they became tormented and tortured, always in the bearing darkness of his pain. “If we are to survive, as true fighters do, a united power we must be, under my rule.” He notion, his hands flaring up a large twist of electricity, as they crackled around the room, illuminating the area.
“Yes, I agree, Lord Totalius.” One of them spoke, a tall and hooded masked man, red lightsabers hung at his helm, mouth still slow and deliberate, his voice a deep strong voice. “Our power must increase by taking the planets more.
“But what planets are there to take? We have leeched the unwanted to the degree where there is a pattern to our moves. Everyone is mocking us, for we have nothing left to take.” Another one chimed up, a powerfully built monstrous being, in a thick silver armour, a long writhing blade standing precariously at his side, as a large blaster rifle hung on his back. “Perhaps if we kept searching - ”
“No.” Totalius interrupted. “We will no longer become a soft group of fighters that take the leftovers. We must take something that is someone else’s’.” He said, and the others agreed in tandem, nodding precariously and also shaking hands, electricity still bolted from the tips of his fingers. “But we must co-ordinate a strategy that will divulge no pattern, for we must put together a plan cannot be read.” He said, as they agreed still on his decision.
“Perhaps the raid will be more than a raid, but an invasion? Perhaps our forces will leach off the ends of an entire system?” One of the Lords asked. “After all, they have much to lose, but we have nothing.” He said, nodding to the others, as they nodded in return.
“That is a good idea, Lord Triask. We all await death with open hands, and we have enough fuel to last us a fully fledged war. Should we raid and take planets lightly guarded, we shall be powerful enough to take the battle to the core. Is everybody with me?” He asked once more, his voice a torturously loud yelp of pain.
They all agreed, not out of brilliance, but out of fear of the strategy. They did not want to die so quickly, so intently, at the feet and the hands of their Lord, who stood there still flashing electricity from his fingers. They stood up, bowed lowly to his presence, and headed off towards their respective ships, as Totalius walked forwards back to his stone bridge. He waited patiently, as the captains arrived, in their dark suits and matching hats, their eyes blank and wondrous, sitting down and obeying his commands without a single word of disagreement. “Find the nearest planet.” Totalius told them, as they nodded, and the fleet entered Warp-Space travel. The blue funnelling lights lit up around them, and the red tinge of blood became a blue swivelling light.
“Where are we headed?” Totalius asked his servants, but they merely shook their heads in unknown thought.
“There is no name for it in our database, lord. It is named something, but not by us, and we will not call it that name.”
“Very well. When the planet is ours, but what about the nearby star?” Totalius had a rare flair of curiosity shown back there.
“It’s called QX2 by the owners of the planet. It’s a gas giant, fairly average for it’s size, we believe.” The servant replied to him, obviously still scared of their Lord’s temperament.
“How far is this planet from the enemy military core?”
“A little far. Not far enough to elude attack, however.”
“Very well. It should be enough to launch a surprise pre-emptive strike. I want all forces ready and on the count. When my ships launches the drones, I want all ships, fighters and boarders to follow, and all capital ships get into invading range.”
“But sir, there’s a station there as well.”
“I see that.” He said tenaciously, as they exited the Warp-travel, and finally saw the lumbering planet, the scolding flames from the volcanoes, the gas giant, and the metal weaving wires, the steel outlying pieces of a fairly pretentious station, a piece of metal that posed to be a threat, or possibly a nuisance. Whatever it could be, it would prove to be critical that the station be destroyed. “What is the name of that platform?” He pointed to the station.
“It’s labelled as Sancho Station. Those things are docking tubes, and they could be utilized to our advantage, lord.” He pointed to the docking tubes, protruding from the ends of the station, but only it’s shadowy silhouette still remained.
“Alright, on my count, I want this attack to succeed. All forces should begin immediate scanning,” He said, as the servant pressed a combination of codes, a long ringing sound echoed through the halls of the ship, “and when the fighters from my fleet have emerged, I want all fighters to begin attack of the station. All boarders prepare to hijack any enemy ships that may come out, and all capital ships to launch fire at the station.” He told his servants, as they nodded in return and pressed another button, as the ringing became louder, and lights flashed red. Totalius waited a little while, looking out at the complacent station, when he heard the servant nearest to him speak.
“All Commanders are ready, and all soldiers prepared, Lord.” He said, as Totalius nodded in retrospect.
“Launch the fleets. Keep pushing forwards, no matter what the cost.” He said, as he stood there, arms crossed.
From the metal doors, opened the hangar bays, as the fighters poured out in hives, like drones, long ended, swift and sleek, with wings on either end, and another layer on the bottom, if the top one was shot apart. Fast sensors scanned the area, the gleaming lasers getting ready to unleash their firepower, as they flung themselves in highly organized groups and ranks, spinning around in unity as they flashed still through the void of space.
Soon, more and more fighters came from the giant bellies of the other capital ships, and burst forth in a legion of metal and steel, a strong blaster gun at their helm, as they swerved and dodged each other, until forming yet another line of fighters, all positioned around their larger counterparts, patrolling swiftly, spinning around, waiting for their time to jump into the action. Boarders emerged from the helms once more in the berths of the capital ships, large rectangular ships, with thick masses of metal carried all about it’s surface, holes seen placed at it’s bottom, slowly flying out into the cold areas of space. But nothing, whatsoever, could have changed things, when the capital ships, with their cannons, and their turrets, their huge amount of firepower, had their sights locked on the station, in a flurry, they let loose their volley. Following directions, the swift fighters twisted around into their foes’ territory, and let loose their own swift judgement, while the boarders stayed passive, waiting for the ripe time to unleash the massive payload of infantry to clean up the erratic mess that could be left behind.
The Invasion of the Sancho Station had begun.
He sat there, his arms crossed over his chest, his skull white mask barely hiding the black, empty, soulless eyes that trickled in his body, the hands still delicately dripping with blood on his shining steel gauntlets, fingers flickering amongst the everlasting candles of light, red rays of flaming fire still perched on his walls. He stood there, his eyes in a grimace, his fingers in a fist, and his form standing tall and strong. No one ever saw beneath the bloody red robes that hung from his shoulders, or the dark jet black cape the perched itself around him, consuming the very stone foundations of his precious bridge, the lights still flickering a red ray of doom towards his foes. For he was an enemy, to life, and all of it’s great trappings, and he lives yet still so that he may release his foes’ souls into the cavernous emptiness of nihilism. Many people uttered his name throughout his ship, and throughout his fleet, but they say it with a frightening glimpse, for he heard the echoing words, the wandering minds still etched deeply into his thoughts. The man he was, was dead. He was no longer the valorous soul he stood as. He stood as a new force, a new threat, no longer an asset to the vaunted universe. His name was Darth Totalius, the leader of the fleets of the Mobile Empire.
For many, many years he sat on his abode, watching and waiting, always looking past the stars in the brim beyond, to look for flesh and bone to feed his everlasting bloodlust, to feed the bloodlusts of his victims, and always find a way to keep them sustained. Always finding a way to keep them under his grasping fist, his closed hands of power. Now, his powers usually waded, but always it came back, in full wane, in full strength. Now, he was at a time of wading control, and his legions became restless, waiting for a victim to plunge their sucking fangs into, and burst only with the necessities of life, so that they may take it from others. A council was held, in the chambers of torment, as corpses, still rotting, blood feeding afresh the running creeks of red that trickled down into the usually empty gauntlet. As always, the Commanders had things to disagree on. Totalius, like always, would wrestle control on the decisions.
“We must keep our strength nigh and vigilant.” He said, in his cruel voice, his voice holding a swift paining action of torment, like a thousand people screaming out his words, as they became tormented and tortured, always in the bearing darkness of his pain. “If we are to survive, as true fighters do, a united power we must be, under my rule.” He notion, his hands flaring up a large twist of electricity, as they crackled around the room, illuminating the area.
“Yes, I agree, Lord Totalius.” One of them spoke, a tall and hooded masked man, red lightsabers hung at his helm, mouth still slow and deliberate, his voice a deep strong voice. “Our power must increase by taking the planets more.
“But what planets are there to take? We have leeched the unwanted to the degree where there is a pattern to our moves. Everyone is mocking us, for we have nothing left to take.” Another one chimed up, a powerfully built monstrous being, in a thick silver armour, a long writhing blade standing precariously at his side, as a large blaster rifle hung on his back. “Perhaps if we kept searching - ”
“No.” Totalius interrupted. “We will no longer become a soft group of fighters that take the leftovers. We must take something that is someone else’s’.” He said, and the others agreed in tandem, nodding precariously and also shaking hands, electricity still bolted from the tips of his fingers. “But we must co-ordinate a strategy that will divulge no pattern, for we must put together a plan cannot be read.” He said, as they agreed still on his decision.
“Perhaps the raid will be more than a raid, but an invasion? Perhaps our forces will leach off the ends of an entire system?” One of the Lords asked. “After all, they have much to lose, but we have nothing.” He said, nodding to the others, as they nodded in return.
“That is a good idea, Lord Triask. We all await death with open hands, and we have enough fuel to last us a fully fledged war. Should we raid and take planets lightly guarded, we shall be powerful enough to take the battle to the core. Is everybody with me?” He asked once more, his voice a torturously loud yelp of pain.
They all agreed, not out of brilliance, but out of fear of the strategy. They did not want to die so quickly, so intently, at the feet and the hands of their Lord, who stood there still flashing electricity from his fingers. They stood up, bowed lowly to his presence, and headed off towards their respective ships, as Totalius walked forwards back to his stone bridge. He waited patiently, as the captains arrived, in their dark suits and matching hats, their eyes blank and wondrous, sitting down and obeying his commands without a single word of disagreement. “Find the nearest planet.” Totalius told them, as they nodded, and the fleet entered Warp-Space travel. The blue funnelling lights lit up around them, and the red tinge of blood became a blue swivelling light.
“Where are we headed?” Totalius asked his servants, but they merely shook their heads in unknown thought.
“There is no name for it in our database, lord. It is named something, but not by us, and we will not call it that name.”
“Very well. When the planet is ours, but what about the nearby star?” Totalius had a rare flair of curiosity shown back there.
“It’s called QX2 by the owners of the planet. It’s a gas giant, fairly average for it’s size, we believe.” The servant replied to him, obviously still scared of their Lord’s temperament.
“How far is this planet from the enemy military core?”
“A little far. Not far enough to elude attack, however.”
“Very well. It should be enough to launch a surprise pre-emptive strike. I want all forces ready and on the count. When my ships launches the drones, I want all ships, fighters and boarders to follow, and all capital ships get into invading range.”
“But sir, there’s a station there as well.”
“I see that.” He said tenaciously, as they exited the Warp-travel, and finally saw the lumbering planet, the scolding flames from the volcanoes, the gas giant, and the metal weaving wires, the steel outlying pieces of a fairly pretentious station, a piece of metal that posed to be a threat, or possibly a nuisance. Whatever it could be, it would prove to be critical that the station be destroyed. “What is the name of that platform?” He pointed to the station.
“It’s labelled as Sancho Station. Those things are docking tubes, and they could be utilized to our advantage, lord.” He pointed to the docking tubes, protruding from the ends of the station, but only it’s shadowy silhouette still remained.
“Alright, on my count, I want this attack to succeed. All forces should begin immediate scanning,” He said, as the servant pressed a combination of codes, a long ringing sound echoed through the halls of the ship, “and when the fighters from my fleet have emerged, I want all fighters to begin attack of the station. All boarders prepare to hijack any enemy ships that may come out, and all capital ships to launch fire at the station.” He told his servants, as they nodded in return and pressed another button, as the ringing became louder, and lights flashed red. Totalius waited a little while, looking out at the complacent station, when he heard the servant nearest to him speak.
“All Commanders are ready, and all soldiers prepared, Lord.” He said, as Totalius nodded in retrospect.
“Launch the fleets. Keep pushing forwards, no matter what the cost.” He said, as he stood there, arms crossed.
From the metal doors, opened the hangar bays, as the fighters poured out in hives, like drones, long ended, swift and sleek, with wings on either end, and another layer on the bottom, if the top one was shot apart. Fast sensors scanned the area, the gleaming lasers getting ready to unleash their firepower, as they flung themselves in highly organized groups and ranks, spinning around in unity as they flashed still through the void of space.
Soon, more and more fighters came from the giant bellies of the other capital ships, and burst forth in a legion of metal and steel, a strong blaster gun at their helm, as they swerved and dodged each other, until forming yet another line of fighters, all positioned around their larger counterparts, patrolling swiftly, spinning around, waiting for their time to jump into the action. Boarders emerged from the helms once more in the berths of the capital ships, large rectangular ships, with thick masses of metal carried all about it’s surface, holes seen placed at it’s bottom, slowly flying out into the cold areas of space. But nothing, whatsoever, could have changed things, when the capital ships, with their cannons, and their turrets, their huge amount of firepower, had their sights locked on the station, in a flurry, they let loose their volley. Following directions, the swift fighters twisted around into their foes’ territory, and let loose their own swift judgement, while the boarders stayed passive, waiting for the ripe time to unleash the massive payload of infantry to clean up the erratic mess that could be left behind.
The Invasion of the Sancho Station had begun.