The Necromonger Armada
01-12-2005, 23:59
(OOC Note: The Necromongers I am using diverge from the normal continuity of those in Chronicles of Riddick at the end of the reign of Lord-Marshall Kyril, who was the fifth such leader. In this continuity, Zhylaw, the one from the movie, died along with a substantial amount of Necromonger warriors when he lead them on an assault on the planet Furya. The new Lord-Marshall was got to his place through marketing of his very pious nature, as well as eliminating dangerous rivals through various subtle means. His current main goal is to two-fold, revive the morale of the Armada by beginning a string of victories, and two, building up their numbers that where lost on Furya by achieving large-scale conversions. Those who wish to RP with this scenario, feel free to do so. The more the merrier I always say.)
The lone Sarcophagus transport floated eerily into the large Necropolis docking bay, born aloft by a visible trail of black, dark blue, and purple energies that emanated from its engine ports, hinting at the dark power that ran the vessel. As it slowly touched down on the bay floor, a multitude of assembled Necromonger warriors, in full armor, stood at attention in the bay. At the front of the assembled men stood three individuals. One was dressed very similar to the other warriors, wearing a seat of dark grey-metallic armor with a helmet that covered the whole of their head, save for the fact that he bore a black cape that went down to just below his backside. Aside from the cape, if one looked closely, they would see some special markings made on the helmet he wore, indicating that he was a commander of some significance among the Necromonger Armada. The two other individuals standing next to him, both male, wore black pilgrim robes and bore unique silver ornaments on their heads that where in the shape of human spines.
A hiss came as the doors opened to the transport, and the ramp extended down to the floor. All eyes became transfixed upon the darkness inside the vessel, waiting with tense anticipation at what was going to emerge from it. What seemed like an eternity passed before finally a tall visage stepped forward, wearing a long flowing black cape that dragged along the ground, and pauldrons on his armor that each bore an ominous looking face. This visage didn’t walk like a normal human would, but seemed to fly glide forward at an incredible speed, ethereal and wraithlike in its appearance. There was depth to it, three dimensions and one could swear it looked solid, yet one could see right through it and it was completely gray in color. Moments later the visage was followed by another, more lively looking form of itself, gliding just as quickly right behind it until it merged with the ethereal form of itself and the two became one.
Finally it stood there before the assembled masses, and the two dark-garbed pilgrims that stood next to the Commander stepped forward. One carried with them a helmet that had on it four faces, one on each side of it, the same kind of faces that where on the visages pauldrons. Kneeling before the visage, the pilgrim carrying the helmet offered it up to the imposing figure, to which the figure reached out and gladly accepted, placing the helmet on his head. At this the pilgrim that was still standing turned to the assembled warriors and shouted in a loud voice. “Behold your new Lord-Marshall, Kharvin the Pious!” A booming reply came warriors. “Take us to the Threshold!”
Reaching forward with his right hand, Kharvin toke off the front faceplate of his helmet and looked out over the warriors, smiling. “Our cleansing fire still rages, and I have seen where next it should strike. Know that the mistakes of old will no longer plague our holy cause. In the past we have been overconfident in our abilities and have forgotten that it is to the Underverse that we owe our power. Due respect must be paid to it. Through piety and strength, shall our crusade be won.” A cacophonous cheer came in reply to the Lord-Marshall’s short address to his troops, before he departed, followed by the two pilgrim figures and the Commander.
Later that same day, in the War-Room of the Necropolis.
Lord-Marshall Kharvin poured over the holographic display of the system with the intense eyes of fire that had made him so well known as a good strategist in the Necromonger ranks. The system was small, carrying only three planets in all, only two of which where capable of supporting life without any technological aide. Those two where inhabited by around 1 billion to 1.5 billion human lives each. The information he received from their scout ship had stated their armed forces where not much more than a defense militia used to keep out the pirates and other undesirables that tended to plague colonies this far out into space. If they could strike fast, before reinforcements could be summoned, it would be a relatively quick and easy victory. Not his ideal of the perfect battle, thought Kharvin, but something nice to start out on. “What’s the name of this system again?” he said as he looked up from the hologram to his assembled advisors. One of them, the Commander that had been standing at the front when Kharvin had returned to Necropolis from his pilgrimage to the Underverse, spoke up. “Asaria my Lord. It’s about three days travel from our current position.” Kharvin nodded in reply. “Thank you Nergus. Inform the rest of the fleet that we will be departing for Asaria immediately. It is time that we resumed our holy charge.” Nergus nodded, slapped his fist to his chest, and departed to dispatch the Lord-Marshall’s orders to the rest of the Necromonger fleet.
The lone Sarcophagus transport floated eerily into the large Necropolis docking bay, born aloft by a visible trail of black, dark blue, and purple energies that emanated from its engine ports, hinting at the dark power that ran the vessel. As it slowly touched down on the bay floor, a multitude of assembled Necromonger warriors, in full armor, stood at attention in the bay. At the front of the assembled men stood three individuals. One was dressed very similar to the other warriors, wearing a seat of dark grey-metallic armor with a helmet that covered the whole of their head, save for the fact that he bore a black cape that went down to just below his backside. Aside from the cape, if one looked closely, they would see some special markings made on the helmet he wore, indicating that he was a commander of some significance among the Necromonger Armada. The two other individuals standing next to him, both male, wore black pilgrim robes and bore unique silver ornaments on their heads that where in the shape of human spines.
A hiss came as the doors opened to the transport, and the ramp extended down to the floor. All eyes became transfixed upon the darkness inside the vessel, waiting with tense anticipation at what was going to emerge from it. What seemed like an eternity passed before finally a tall visage stepped forward, wearing a long flowing black cape that dragged along the ground, and pauldrons on his armor that each bore an ominous looking face. This visage didn’t walk like a normal human would, but seemed to fly glide forward at an incredible speed, ethereal and wraithlike in its appearance. There was depth to it, three dimensions and one could swear it looked solid, yet one could see right through it and it was completely gray in color. Moments later the visage was followed by another, more lively looking form of itself, gliding just as quickly right behind it until it merged with the ethereal form of itself and the two became one.
Finally it stood there before the assembled masses, and the two dark-garbed pilgrims that stood next to the Commander stepped forward. One carried with them a helmet that had on it four faces, one on each side of it, the same kind of faces that where on the visages pauldrons. Kneeling before the visage, the pilgrim carrying the helmet offered it up to the imposing figure, to which the figure reached out and gladly accepted, placing the helmet on his head. At this the pilgrim that was still standing turned to the assembled warriors and shouted in a loud voice. “Behold your new Lord-Marshall, Kharvin the Pious!” A booming reply came warriors. “Take us to the Threshold!”
Reaching forward with his right hand, Kharvin toke off the front faceplate of his helmet and looked out over the warriors, smiling. “Our cleansing fire still rages, and I have seen where next it should strike. Know that the mistakes of old will no longer plague our holy cause. In the past we have been overconfident in our abilities and have forgotten that it is to the Underverse that we owe our power. Due respect must be paid to it. Through piety and strength, shall our crusade be won.” A cacophonous cheer came in reply to the Lord-Marshall’s short address to his troops, before he departed, followed by the two pilgrim figures and the Commander.
Later that same day, in the War-Room of the Necropolis.
Lord-Marshall Kharvin poured over the holographic display of the system with the intense eyes of fire that had made him so well known as a good strategist in the Necromonger ranks. The system was small, carrying only three planets in all, only two of which where capable of supporting life without any technological aide. Those two where inhabited by around 1 billion to 1.5 billion human lives each. The information he received from their scout ship had stated their armed forces where not much more than a defense militia used to keep out the pirates and other undesirables that tended to plague colonies this far out into space. If they could strike fast, before reinforcements could be summoned, it would be a relatively quick and easy victory. Not his ideal of the perfect battle, thought Kharvin, but something nice to start out on. “What’s the name of this system again?” he said as he looked up from the hologram to his assembled advisors. One of them, the Commander that had been standing at the front when Kharvin had returned to Necropolis from his pilgrimage to the Underverse, spoke up. “Asaria my Lord. It’s about three days travel from our current position.” Kharvin nodded in reply. “Thank you Nergus. Inform the rest of the fleet that we will be departing for Asaria immediately. It is time that we resumed our holy charge.” Nergus nodded, slapped his fist to his chest, and departed to dispatch the Lord-Marshall’s orders to the rest of the Necromonger fleet.