NationStates Jolt Archive

A signal went out across the void, locked and secured beyond reasonable doubt of its fallibility. Softly, it reached out through space, to coil itself about the ears of those who would listen, those it was intended for. It travelled to many systems, dancing across the boundaries of nations, to trickle like honey to so many eager listeners. It came without warning, unheralded, and yet it was a sign, a bloody revelation that would set galaxies to war and entire systems to burning.

All for the will of one man.

Remiel de Drakan, lord of the Chronosian Imperium by the will of the Gods, stood before an immense fane, an altar-complex that dominated the room which it sat in. Glimmering runic patterns crackled across its surface, blazing with a ruinous intensity. His eyes, drifting upwards, took in the array of tactical maps and troop dispositions that hovered in mid-air, shifting them with the movement of one gauntleted finger. A new list replaced it.

Thrashia.
Colonies.
Balrogga.
Tenetia.
Huntaer.
...

The Sith were perhaps hauntingly, notably absent at this time.

These were but a few of the names that were thus displayed, his fingers caressing its hovering letters, letting them drift through his pliant digits. He let them move, stroking across numbers that rose ever upward, across worlds that longed to be burned. A smile flickered across his lips as he raised his hands to the sky, his eyes rising to the roof of the halls, where painted daemons frolicking amongst their favored human prey.

It was all falling into place, now that the Colonies were subjugated, now that the groundwork of a new era was being laid, now that everything was coming full-circle into alignment. Now was the time to reveal to them the extent of his work.

The message that was winging its way across the galaxy, to the courts of the Chronosian's most trusted allies and friends, was thus;

My friends and brethern,

It is imperative that you come to the provided coordinates, whether in the person of your ruler or a diplomat. It matters not, save that my words be heard by you and yours. I have taken it upon myself to place my trust with each of you, and hope that this offer never be spoken of to any till you stand in the sanctuary that I will provide you.

Vast change sweeps the galaxy, my brethern, great things are promised to those who join me in this endeavor, a war to end all wars...And the purification of our realm.

For the Gods, and for the Empire, you must heed my words.

Remiel De Drakan.

“Sire, I have a message for you. It was sent addressed for you from Emperor Remiel.”

“Lets see it.”

Nhur-Galladu took the data pad from the Aide and inserted his personal data print. The message displayed unscrambled and he read it briefly. He gave the delete command and the pad destroyed all traces of the message.

“Inform Grand Admiral Rdz’Quix we are leaving immediately.”


---



Minutes later Nhur-Galladu left the Fist of Darkness and boarded The Serendipity. The massive Dreadnaught left the system utilizing a newly made wormhole, accompanied by the Honorguard Fleet. The rip in reality tore open wide enough so the entire fleet could access it at once. After the last ship passed through the aperture, it slammed shut behind it and space returned to the distorted chaotic mess caused by the Force Storm.

Ten minutes later reality was torn asunder at the coordinates and the fleet Emerged. The ships took their positions around the massive dreadnaught.

This is Warlord Nhur-Galladu aboard The Serendipity. I have arrived.

Dor Lomin, Homeworld of the Thrashian Empire

Scattering light of the fading sun ran like wisps of fire through the darkening evening sky, twisting this way and that between the gargantuan sky scrapers and monumental buildings. Traffic of vehicles passing along the sky-lanes was thickening, citizens returning from work or heading out for a night of festivities. It was a peaceful scene.

Dieter Kraz moved through the white marble halls of the Imperial Palace with purpose. His feet created a wave of sound that preceded him. Guards, dressed in the livery of the House of Kushrenada, stood like silent sentinels; only their eyes followed Dieter.

Finally the young man came up to a set of ornately carved nalwood doors. Two men dressed in ancient and ceremonial armour and bearing swords stood to either side. They nodded in recognition as Dieter came forward and passed within.

Whereas the halls before the room were splendid and shaped to be a magnificent show of wealth and power, the room Dieter stepped into was by stark contrast very spartan. The floor was a simple smooth carpet,the walls bearing only a few holographic images of art pieces, and a single long black thrashian oak desk at the far end of the room. Behind the desk, staring out at the city-scape through a wide window, stood the Emperor.

The young man walked forward and stopped in front of the desk, bowing as he did so.

"What news do you bring me at this late hour Dieter?" asked Emperor Treize Kushrenada, not even turning around to know it was his trusted aide.

"We've received a heavily encoded message from the Chronosian Empire. His lordship, Remiel de Draken, requests an audience with either you or a representative of Thrashia. If our Intelligence people are correct, it could be a monumental meeting," reported Dieter.

Treize nodded. "Coordinates were given?"

"Yes your Excellency."

"See to it that Grand Admiral Thrawn is made aware of this. I will send him as my chief advocate."

"But sir, the Grand Admiral only just arrived back from Wild Space less than a week ago," Dieter complained.

"Believe me my young friend," smiled Treize, turning around to face the younger man. "Thrawn would have no other welcoming back gift than another assignment to test his genius upon."

"As you will, so shall it be." The young aide bowed and left.

Designated Coordinates

Out of the shining lines of hyperspace burst forth a dark and monstrous ship. Its gray, metal surface was newly burnished from a hasty cleaning by the dock yards. Its crew, grim-faced veterans all, ran the ship like a well tuned watch.

A lone figure dressed in the white uniform of an imperial grand admiral sat in the command chair aboard the bridge of the Star Destroyer as it slid through space. "Com Scan?" he asked.

"Nothing of major concern," replied Captain Varek. "We're detecting Chronosian signatures."

"Good," said Grand Admiral Thrawn. "Inform them of my arrival."

A quiet, still frequency shot through Psaya's mind. He did not like the feel, nor the sensation as the cold chill of fear shot through his spine, ravaging the capillaries in his body with a minuscule shiver. He sat quietly, still, his temple throbbing as his black sclera was fresh with blood. He saw nothing but ghosts, and this. He sat alone upon the bridge of the Heretical Tongue, a long capital ship that drifted endlessly in space, one of the many fists of Naira the Insipid's private army. Or, from the throne of one who is already prepared to be the Queen of the Fearful, the military. Psaya was one of the few who weren't scared of her all-seeing eye.

When the message came in from the blackest of space, the darkness where a starless horizon was bound, only curiosity rushed through Psaya's decrepit mind. The old alliances of Totalius still lingered, like a frozen icicle in winter's chill; everlasting on frozen planets, only to grow larger and larger as it became a problem. But this was not the time to think of such things. Psaya got up, looking at the sea of steel beneath his bridge. He was a blonde haired man with goldenrod eyes, his lips thin and wry, his mouth long and snake-like as a shifting smile broke out readily. His fingers tapped gently upon his crisp uniform, his left index finger missing - there were always casualties in war, and this was no different.

"Heretical." He said silently, quietly, softly, without harshness in his slightly crackled voice. "Get me an open channel, amplify it, and return it with my message." He commanded, before not long the screens turned to life, the windows flickering with sound and images, a gloomy face coming to life, yet he smiled softly, gently, as if in melancholy. "Can you perform that function?"

"4 open channels exist. Please specify." It replied meekly, Psaya's face contorting into swift displeasure.

"The Chronosians, and Lady Naira. Tell Lady Naira I will be meeting with the Chonosians as a representative of a member of the Lords of Chaos. Can you do that, at the least?" He asked, the AI of the ship flashing red slightly. "Damn machine, just do it, will you?" He asked again, as the ship flickered slightly in response, Psaya's headache growing. "Do it, damn it."

The Heretical Tongue was obedient this time, as two messages were sent out.

Dear Lady Naira, this is Psaya of the Heretical Tongue. I hate this ship. Please assign me to a new one. On another note, I received words of the Totalians' old allegiances with the Lords of Chaos. I plan on using that membership as a means to further strengthen our alliances with other powers within the universe. Please eliminate Totalius quickly so we can focus more on building stronger relations with the Chronosians.

To the Chronosians.

This is Psaya, operator of the Heretical Tongue, in service of Naira the Insipid. On behalf of the Aurushuk sector and the Totalius sector, I will be coming according to the supplied co-ordinates and will be arriving shortly. That is all.

"And so they fall in line..."

A thin man, robed and cowled, stepped forward from the shadows, tendrils of darkness caressing his form as he came. Pulling back his hood, the man's flawless visage twisted into a grin.

"Remiel de Draken... It has been far too long. I bring tidings from my Master, the Lord of the Fourth Wind. It is His divine will that I make it known that His power is to be yours. The Khurganate is yours to command. I, Helion Orrimar, am yours to command. Use us well, Remiel de Draken..."

Fire and Flame consumed the worlds below, as a great civilization, once adorned with cities, culture, art and science turned into ash. The Twelve Colonies of Kobal, once pristine, and peaceful within three days time, betrayed by their allies, had fallen into the hands of the Empire, and the Chronosians.

Storm troopers and Astartes alike, ran through the ash and the rubble, hunting any who would defy them, any who would defy their new ally Admiral Cain and the Colonial Fleet.

Blood soaked the land, and after three days of terrible war peace came, by the tip of a stained and withered sword.

Admiral Cain stood in her office. Her office, her quarters were simple. A table stood, with papers and files in a nice neat piles, each containing different reports. Casualty listings, from those below on the surface, as well as the great battlestars in the sky. Billions of souls, that three days ago lived their lives, now consumed due to the arrogance and lies of the Coredians and their vile counterparts, the Abh. Eleven Billion dead due to the incompetent president Adar, who would rather oppressed his people under the yoke of the “Rebellion,” than see the truth. Today though the worlds were free.

Admiral Cain picked up another report. “Operation: Salvation.” She began to flip through the papers. Rebuilding the colonies, due to this Imperial Report and project would take in the upward price of 100 Trillion Credits. The loans were already issued, and terra forming equipment, as well as construction modules were already on their way. Admiral Cain, continued to read, as the medical expenses for treating the radiated, the sick, the wounded and the dying, also rose in the hundreds of billions of Imperial Credits. Their aid, it seemed did not come without a price.

“Admiral Cain please contact the CIC, Admiral Cain please contact the CIC.” blared as she looked at the expense of putting her home back together. She looked down, and sighed. “What is it now.” she asked to herself as she placed the report on the desk. She straightened her back, as a sharp pain went down her spine, into her legs. Admiral Cain reached down and grabbed her back, slowly stretching it out. “Maybe these ‘miracle’ workers can fix my back as well.” she thought to herself, as she walked over to the black phone on the other side of her desk.

“This is the Admiral, Report.” she replied.

Admiral, we have just received word from Emperor Remiel. The message is priority one, he wishes to meet with you, or a representative of the Colonies, at a disclosed location. He insists that this mission be kept Top Secret, your eyes only sir.”

Admiral Cain just listened. Remiel knew that Lord Vader had requested that she spearhead the next part of the Invasion. That would take time and planning. What in the gods name did we want, that would be more important than Lord Vader's personal commission? Admiral Cain sighed, as the pain continued to ride through her body uninhibited.

“Tell Emperor Remiel that we will be there within the Hour.” she ordered, as the pain throbbed through her.

An hour later, the Warstar Ares, the Flag ship of the Twelve Colonies of Kobal jumped. A white flash of light was all there was, as the ship left the colonies and appeared at the designated coordinates.

Admiral Cain looked to her communications officer, “Put me through to Remiel directly.” she ordered.

This is the Warstar Ares, of the Twelve Colonies of Kobal. Admiral Cain wishes to speak with Emperor Remiel as soon as he is available about the nature of this meeting.

There was a measure of anticipation in the air. Lord Itachi could feel it in his bones as soon as the communique reached his ears. Soon, my brother. Soon, your blood will be on my hands. Soon, there will be only one branch to carry the Sharingan bloodline. I will be amiss if I didn't attend, for it could very well fall into my plans and doom your precious people.

Lord Itachi Uchiha, Co-Emperor of Tenetia and master of the Ninja dark arts would entrust this meeting to no one else. He will attend himself, leaving nothing to chance. He left a message to Lord Tyrannus to run things for a while until he or Lady Nightshade return and then took a sleek shuttle, leaving before anyone had a chance to comment.

A short time later, the black shuttle exited hyperspace at the coordinates.

Emperor Remiel. I, Lord Itachi, have arrived.

::Well, well well. It would seem that our friend Remiel has requested our presence.::

::Indeed Lord Vorman?::

::Yes Emperor. They have requested either the national leader or a representative should go and attend the meeting.::

::Intriguing, Lord. You are one of their two favorite representatives. Why don't you go?::

::I cannot as I'm en route to the Terrans and Solarins right now. Shelintiave and Dominkive are available. Send one of them.::

Darth Trilkan scoffed at their names, ::They have not lived up to the title of "Lord" for a long while now, just you and Aelikes. No... I think it's about time I stretched my legs.::

::Is that wise Trilkan?::

::No it isn't. I still need to get out every now and them. Even on his death bed, Palpatine got out more than I do... It's about time I started going to these meetings in person.::

::Very well, good luck.::

Trilkan opened his eyes, and slowly got up from his command chair on Huntaria. He gazed out at the stretching metropolis, reflecting on the many battles it took him to get here. Perhaps it was time that he got out more and dealt with issues personally. And it was a good time to honor the chronosians with the third Nosferatu class. The Emperor pressed a button on his command chair, "captain, ready the Remiel De Draken."

"She's only 1/4 functional. Cloaking system, life support and only a hand full of turbolasers are functioning. Not very wise idea to have her go into battle my Lord."

"We won't be going into battle, and so long as the cloak is functional, we're fine. Prep my shuttle, we'll be leaving immediately."

__________________________________________________________________

Hours later...

To: Emperor Remiel De Draken
From: Unknown source. Matches Huntarian Empire signature

I, Emperor Darth Trilkan shall be attending the meeting in person. Requesting permission to land.

In the dusty depths of a long-abandoned ruin, the call of Chaos was heard. Ancient relays clicked into position and twisted runes shimmered with eerie light. An observer might have thought it was all for naught, had there been such an observer. Nobody dwelt amidst the dust and shadows to see the arcane communications equipment activating. No one remained to hear the message it recorded.

And yet, beyond time and space as they are generally known, an awareness did observe the message as it was received. It observed, and it acted. Power trickled into hidden generators, cascaded through networks of rapidly increasing complexity. Blue light flickered across the blasted landscape and time-shattered buildings. Blue light gathered in the skies above. Then, silent and sudden, the light vanished. All was as it had been.

Not as it had been minutes ago, before the message was received. As it had been so many decades back, before the Vaxintorians dropped out of space and time. The Citadel towered where rubble had been crumbling, its grim and mighty walls gleaming red in the fading twilight. Fleets sprang into existance about the planet, ranging from lone Greatships that served the Hordes as enormous, mobile fortified cities to the swarms of Deathbolts that waited to sweep away missiles and fighters that challenged the larger vessels. Here and there across the surface of the planet, specks of green sprouted as long-dead farms were restored. All was as it had been. The Vaxintorians had returned.

Varduk Myandariin's flagship of choice, the D'zer'kar, was moving almost before it had returned to this universe. The great battleship departed the system as Varduk's instructions reached his child and second in command. At the same time, Varduk sent his response to the call.

-I have heard your call, Master of Chaos. My ship is on its way, and I with it. Expect our arrival shortly.
Varduk Myandariin-

All who beheld the meeting place could not fail to be astounded by the wonder of its construction. Forged of black stone and iron, it gleamed with the runes of Chaos, countless symbols glowing in lazy malevolence upon its being. Those who walked within, trod upon the very words of the Gods, watched them crackle upon every wall, projecting the will of Chaos into the space between each shuffling attendant.

Acolytes and priests tended the whispering sigils with blood, annointing and restoring old portions of debased text. Servitors with countless mechanical limbs moved before them, caressing each symbol with sacred oils, polishing and cleaning the walls in a near-endless cycle of unending devotion.

Already they could sense that many had arrived, or were on their way, many had heard the summons of their Master, a Lord of Chaos, a Master of the Warp. The Scion. The Chosen...It filled them with an ungodly pride to serve him, especially with so many in attendence.

Primarchs and their attendants sat in the Great Hall, their eyes rivetted upon their brother as he examined every possible tactical readout in quiet contemplation. From the choleric fury of Cabot, to the meditative calm of Gabriel, each was gathered to hear the words of Remiel, words that even now echoed across space.

He whispered under his breath, intoning rites and incants, letting his mind commune with the powers of the Aethyr, before opening his eyes.

"Tzaanlord. Long has it been since the Imperium was graced with your presence, and we welcome your servitude. The Changer has whispered to me of you, told me of your growing power...You are promised a great hand in this endeavor...Sit, and await those others who would join us.

There is much to be discussed."

He let his voice rise now, echoed and enflamed by the roar of the vox-casters that brought his voice to those who had already arrived in system.

Come to me, my brothers. I know you wish to speak to me, but there will only be talk within this hall. Only then, can we be assured of the security and sanctity of our speech.

Nhur-Galladu entered his waiting Stiletto shuttle and left The Serendipity, speeding forward to his appointment with Fate. Minutes later the sleek craft settled into the landing bay and shifted sideways out of the way of other incoming craft. The shuttle settled about a centimeter above the deck and hovered in place. The side of the ship melted, running down the hull until it dripped off forming three independently hovering triangular steps. The newly revealed door slid silently open and a mid-aged man exited. His dark hair and beard seemed to clash with his pure white robes. The silver trim glittered and reflected the crackling energies along the walls, the ceiling, and the floor. The Warlord quietly announced himself to the awaiting Honor Guard.

“I am Nhur-Galladu, Emperor Remiel is expecting me.”

Without a word, he followed the escort to the meeting hall. Along the way, he examined the designs and glyphs adorning the walls. In his vision, he could see the intricate energies flowing through each individual stone and how they interlocked with their neighboring stones. He noticed how Order was bound by Chaos forming a powerful Entropy matrix out of the whole structure. It caused Entropy to be concentrated and he could feel the ancient feel of eons ago when the Ta’Nar were part of the Warp, the days of The Hunts. It was a comforting and familiar, almost home-like. It settled Nhur-Galladu and also energized him at the same time. The Entropy allowed a peace to settle upon his mind, a paradox that embodied the Ta’Nar.

Arriving at the destined Hall, he entered as he was bid so by the escort. He looked around and saw others have arrived before him and waited for Remiel to greet his old acquaintance.

Remiel let a grin cross his features as he turned from the Tzaanlord, his attention falling upon Nhur-Galladu with an almost bemused air. His cloak of flesh and silks fluttered as he turned, "Ah, so the Ta-Nar bless me with their presence. The rocks themselves writhe at your coming, brother. The Warp hungers for you to re-embrace it, and in turn to be re-embraced" A chuckle slid forth from those honeyed lips.

Had he and his Empire not had a hand in the slow corruption of the Balroggans?

"This day, is a day of days." He grins, placing a hand on his shoulder, patting it almost reassuringly, "This day, we orchestrate the deeds that shall live forever in infamy, and you shall share in them. Drink in the power of this place, my brother. You'll need it for the tasks I set for you, for the glories I offer.."

“Lately we have been yearning for the old days. The Hunt beckons at our spirits and fills us with the longing of running down a worthy foe, to taste their deaths upon our hungry lips. Ah, the good old days.”

The Ta’Nar looked around the room.

“It seems you have made yourself an impressive Foci. How much Entropy can the structure concentrate? It seems to be quite large from examining the walls on the way here. I must complement you upon your efficient slaves, they seem quite devoted and eager to please you.”

Nhur-Galladu was quite aware the Empire had been accidently influenced by an act Chronosia committed more than five centuries ago that caused them to re-embrace Entropy but that was unimportant to the Ta’Nar. They understood it was not deliberate, but a twist of fate that one of their ships happened to be nearby and was caught in the energies of the opening of the Rift in the Cluster Territories of SeaQuest. Their own ships destruction caused the rift to become permanent as the Dimensional Drives cascaded and set up a continuous loop of explosion inside the rift, causing the Entropy pouring through to expand mush faster. The crew had escaped in the emergency pods but not before evading dancing tools and murderous bulkheads and argumentive doors, all products of the Entropic Energies of the Rift as it flooded the ship and crew. Aboard the escape ships, the Entropy tainted crews passed the taint along the Ta’Nar Link, boosted by the effects Hyperspace-B has upon Telepaths. There were no ill feelings toward the Chronosians for the act, it was their own fault for being too close.

"We're in Orbit of the coordinates Emperor."

"Very well. Maintain standard orbit."

"My lord... Just how do you plan on getting to the planet's surfface? We can't exactly use the Drop Pods since that is the only form of transport we have on here..."

"And that ignorance is why you will never reach the rank of Admiral... Captain." With that, Emperor Trilkan disappeared with a puff of red and black smoke. ::The force opens one's mind to many possibilities... Something, Captain, you fail to comprehend.::


Instead of just simply arriving at Remiel's location as he normally would, Trilkan decided to take a brief walk through the halls to gaze at the glorious construction. Indeed, it was a site to behold and the Emperor isn't one to be impressed. He eventually found his way to the meeting hall, where he easily recognized Remiel de Draken. There was of course the Balroggan representative, one he was familiar with only by his reputation. Then there was one he wasn't familiar with... Though he definitely had the feel of "Chaos" about him. "Greetings Emperor Remiel De Draken. I am Darth Trilkan, Emperor of the Huntarian Empire."

The black shuttle landed softly on the designated landing pad and a black-cloaked S-class Shinobi with swirling red eyes and graying black hair tied back in a ponytail stepped deftly onto the ground. Through the Sharingan, Itachi could see the contours of Chaos energy coursing through every inch of the walls and ground. He could see the runes burning brightly as if they were highlighted by his son's markers. He could hear the whispers of unholy creatures, promising great power in exchange for allowing them onto the material plane. Unfortunately for them Itachi wasn't that stupid and shoved them aside as he headed into the grand meeting hall, taking in all the delegates that have arrived.

Upon his arrival, it was likely that no one could, or would, recognize Psaya, and they had good reason not to; for he was nothing more than the tongue of Naira, a man who spoke on behalf of a woman who waged war on the other side of the universe, fighting the Totalians, keeping the balance of strength forever powerful and rippling with destruction. Yet, the glamorous and yet subtle beauty of the architecture did not welcome him, a man who grew up in the bleakest of machines and the blackest of hearts. However, like many, he had a job to do. And when the Heretical Tongue landed deftly upon one of the landing pads, he prepared himself.

This was no home of Gods; it was a fortress of demons, and although Psaya had little to do with demons, he had much to do with wonder and admiration. As he walked, every footstep he took felt like a nail ripping through his tendons, his bones cracking with every joint bending, his sinews slowly and painfully tearing off at the sheer cackle of malevolence that sneered from the evil walls of these unholy halls. It was not long before he finally entered, and found his sanctuary within this castle of damnation, this world of hungry and unpleasant souls. He had finally entered into the meeting hall, and taking a look around, he wondered whether he would be capable of greeting them properly on behalf of his own master.

A small raptor leaves the Port Ventral Flight pod of the Warstar Ares. The ship, containing Admiral Cain herself, as well as a small contingent of colonial Marines, soon flies to the desolate world below. The sky was black, as the runes of the gods of Chronosia shined bright from the surface below. The horrors of the planets shined with the brightness of a thousand cities, as the Raptor hit the atmosphere.

Fire licked the flames of the shuttle, as all inside were shaking, not from fear but from the vessel fighting it’s way through the atmosphere of the planet below. The flames baited the raptor, engulfing it with it’s power, as the raptor continued to enter the planet below.

The flames died around the hull, as the Raptor began to approach the designated coordinates, the place where Remiel summoned his friends, his allies... his slaves.

Slowly, the Raptor began to touch down, and the door of the raptor opened. First, two marines exited, dressed in the black combat uniforms, adorned with their rifles and pistols. They looked around, before Admiral Cain disembarked. Her hair, brown that flowed to her shoulders, her brown eyes, like a predator were sharp in case of danger. With confidence she walked down the raptor, as the remaining guards left the raptor behind their Admiral.

Admiral Cain now used to seeing the glories and twisted creations of Chaos, walked up to the Astarte greeting party. She looked up to the war dogs of Chronosia, the creatures twisted from their perfect human form, to have implants imposed on them. Such mockery of humanity, yet they were most effective in the art of war. She looked up to them, and saluted.

“Take me to Remiel.” she ordered, as the Astartes showed her the way to her friend, Remiel.

As he crossed through the hallways of the megalithic structure devoted to the Dark Gods, he looked with curiosity at his surroundings. Appraising the walls and floors like he would artwork, much like his collector aboard the Judicator. Such...inelegance, Thrawn thought, his upper lip curving ever slightly in a small show of disgust. The two armored stormtroopers who followed him as honor guards took no real notice of their surroundings, at least not in the artistic sense.

Finally Thrawn came to a large chamber where the other were gathered and where the opulent figure of Remiel sat clothed in the by-words of his faith. Thrawn stopped at the door way and bowed in a functional manner.

"I bid welcome to the Lord Remiel the ally and constant companion to the Empire of Thrashia; Emperor Treize Kushrenada I bids you good health and a successful enterprise in these pursuits," pronounced Thrawn. He then moved to sit down.

"The power gathered here..." Remiel paused, as though savoring the scent of the Warp that permeated the sheer glory of his halls, the mighty and power harnessed to a single point. Elegant, flawless...He smirked. "Is enough to shield us from those who might seek to undo our great works, and to sanctify our deeds and words.

We shall see the birth of something here, something that will change everything." He turned from Nhur-Galladu, nodding to the other delegates who had arrived.

"It pleases me to see so many faces, so many distinguished faces here amongst us. the hero of the Colonial Liberation, Admiral Cain" He gestures with one hand to the sound of applause rising. "Or the noble Admiral Thrawn or Darth Trilkan.

Others are unfamiliar to us, or delegates who come on the behalf of other leaders. I welcome you all, and bid you sit. For there is much that must be discussed.

I imagine you're all wondering why I have called you here."

"Nothing comes to me as a surprise my dear Warmaster," Trilkan closed his eyes, focusing on fueling his anger and hate... "I foresee a great war... A Dark Crusade if you will... There's much fear in our enemies I can almost taste it... I can feel the Dark Side and the call of the Warp grow ever so stronger... A light which shone in the darkness now dims with the rest of the other lights... As to whom it's against, what battles will be fought, I cannot say." Trilkan opened his eyes, and let out a sigh of joy. "These shall be glorious times we live," the old man's voice rasped, "glory to those of the Dark Side and to Chaos."

Thrawn's red eyes glittered in a dangerous fashion. "Time, as they say, is of the essence...our enemies are at the precipice. It can only be an act of mercy that we should push them over it." He shifted his position and rested his chin in the palm of his right hand, studying those around the table before moving his gaze back to Remiel.

"My recent exploits have born much fruit for a great endeavor...or any campaign that we here might plan."

The room was lavish, the table exquisite, the chairs comfortable as Admiral Cain walked into the precession of diplomats, warriors, and sith lords. Here lied the beating heart of the Empire, the true strength of the gods, all but the Unified Sith.

Admiral Cain was amused by this noticeable absence. She looked and watched the mood of the crowd, those gathered by the warmaster himself, those who were willing to aid him in his endeavors. He was making a play for power, such an obvious move. It was quite brash, and bold.

As Remiel introduced her to the collective nations of the Galactic Empire, and the Lords of Chaos, Admiral Cain just humbly nodded, or saluted, depending on the person and their rank, truly a sign of respect for those that were here, in their endeavors.

Admiral Cain soon walked over to her seat designated for her. She sat down, in silence. There was nothing to say, besides to stroke one’s own ego. Nothing that needed to be said. This was Remiel’s show, and soon it would begin.

OOC:

Please assume Nhur-Galladu is seated already so the show can begin.

The D'zer'kar slid back into real-space, blue flames washing over its hull like water splashing across the back of a surfacing whale. The two kilometer battleship settled in space. The shuttle that darted away from it was a rebuilt wreck, a battered hull that had been smashed open by gunfire or collision, then repaired with Vaxintorian technology. Minutes later, the battered craft reached the landing bay and settled quietly into place. A large chunk of its hull swung aside, permitting Varduk to emerge.

The D'zukaru chieftain had sensed the chaotic energy surging through the mighty structure, but he still paused as he entered to glance about him. Varduk had chosen to take on a six legged, spidery form for this meeting. Under two meters tall, it would be more convenient than his usual towering shape. Now, as he looked at the array of gleaming symbols that sent malevolent power washing over him, three extra eyes appeared on the sides and back of his head.

"Magnificent."

With an unimpeded view of the splendor that surrounded him, Varduk Myandariin continued on to the meeting room. His massively armored legs moved with surprising quiet and grace, and he soon reached the lavish chamber. Shadows seemed to shift and flow oddly about him as the master of the Vaxintorians bowed to those who had already assembled - an odd gesture, involving bending at what passed for his waist and adjusting each of his three pairs of legs to a different degree.

"Please pardon my late arrival; my ship's navigational data was a trifle out of date. I hope I haven't missed anything?"

"As a matter of fact you're just in time." Remiel let a smile flicker across his lips, before turning his back upon his guests. "I have called you all here for a very special purpose, one that will define the universe which we inhabit, and live forever in history." He gestured with one hand, the runic patterns upon the altar shifting to once again display a map.

"I give you the Coreworlds of the Coredian Empire. Ever a thorn in our side, and a unifying point for malcontents like the Wickian Rebels...They prove again and again that there are still those in the galaxies without...Vision. Imagination. They have thwarted every effort to destroy them, tenacious little parasites, gripping onto existence with their claws.

I have brought you all here...So that we might destroy them"

And then he watched as the room exploded into noise.

Psaya looked carefully, thinking carefully. "Surely you could destroy them alone, could you not? Or perhaps you have not fought against parasites long enough to adapt to their ways?" He looked carefully, thinking to himself as he tapped his thin pale, ghost-like fingers, shifting his bangs away from his forehead. "Though, what puzzles me is why the Coredian Empire would harbor the Wickian Rebels when they face such a threat as these?" He looked around to the many others who were gathered there, before turning to Remiel.

"How long has it been since you have drained a group of it's hope? Are you getting dull at your art?" Psaya asked speculatively.

"Do not even think to suggest that I am weak or growing merciful. My art is as keen as ever. This, however, is a mission of utter annihilation. Always the Coredians seem to evade us, not this time. We shall craft a war on many fronts, a war to pin them and behead them.

This time, I will take the head of Daniel Masaki and drag his lifeless carcass as a trophy to be displayed at the base of the Emperor's throne." A chuckle, throaty and malevolent slips from his lips. "I do not see why I need to do it alone, when all those gathered here hungers to bring retribution to the foes of the Empire, and to gain the favor of Coruscant and Chronosia.

We may have perfected the killing arts of our games, but we are not above sharing."

Moments passed, as the desire for revenge grew. Eleven Billion people stood dead and the cities burned because of the treachery and mind tricks of the jedi. The flames of the twelve colonies, had barely died, as the loyal servants of the gods ran rampant enforcing the laws of the colonies, putting to death all that stood in the way of peace and progress. All of this because of the Coreworlds.

Admiral Cain smiled, as the Warmaster began his speech. The Coredians were truly deceitful creatures, not worthy of the name human. If they were the true representation of the thirteenth colony from Earth, it was a damn good thing that the thirteenth tribe went the opposite direction as the sons and daughters of Kobal.

Admiral Cain replied, “Warmaster Remiel, the Twelve Colonies of Kobal appreciates your invitation to bring wrath and retribution to those who attempted to subvert and destroy our way of life, and almost pushed us to extinction. The Colonial Fleet is at your disposal for this endeavor.”

She then looked around at the table, the power of the Empire, the sword of Corescant, and the fire of the Chronosian’s. Admiral Cain looked towards them. “During the Colonial Civil war, that has only recently been won fifty seven battlestars and over one hundred and forty three warships left the colonies. Our intelligence has shown that they left for Jurai, shortly before the Coredian’s attacked Kobal. I would suggest that this would be a good first target, as I am certain that soon the Coredian’s due to the refugee fleet will be assembling a massive armada, waiting for my arrival.” she said, her face no longer smiling, and her voice filled with anger. “I do not care for the people, but I do want those ships back. They are valuable military assets.”

"Jurai." The very word seemed to make any Tenetian seeth with hatred. No different for Itachi. "Lady Nightshade will be most pleased with this revelation. For long she has sought to strike and take her brother's place as true Empress of all Coreworlds. Your goals and ours coincide, Warmaster. You seek the head of Daniel Masaki. You shall have it. Nightshade will settle for her twin brothers and the Uzumaki brood. I will make sure of it, for I have her ears as she has yours. I, myself, seek the head of my own brother, and the heads of his brood."

His red eyes flashed in evil glee. "The Tenetian Fleet is yours, Warmaster. You need only ask and they will move at once."

“I can provide word for word everything they plan for their defense. Baron Skye was not very wise in his past when he combined his people with his Kythons. I have access to everything they have experienced through the now one way link between my B Strain and his G Strain. General Arcturus is at this very moment sitting in their own defense meeting speaking to Adama about using lots of reinforced concrete. Through his ships sensors I have access to the placement of every ship and defense position in orbit. His ground proliferation on the planet gives Balrogga information about the countless traps they are setting as well as the thousands of troops from all the defenders that showed up. Baron Skye has opened a window that he cannot shut without risking his very combat engine’s complete failure. His nation cannot function without the Kython Link they all have grown dependant upon over the past couple centuries.”

Nhur-Galladu paused so his words could have maximum effect.

“I have also ordered my Grand Admiral Ga’Ton, the original designer of the Kython mentality to make adjustments to the B Strain a dozen years back and to implement them without letting on that we had control of the exchange of information from our end of the Link. My ship in orbit is completely constructed out of Kythons and he has no clue where it is, The Serendipity’s Shipmind has slammed the door as soon as we Uplifted when we left Asfaltum.”

“In a nut shell, as long as one of his people is in a position to know something, it is leaked out and he has no control of it.”

Nhur-Galladu made a telepathic connection to Overmind and asked for current ship placement of the fleets over Jurai. After getting the information, he crafted a photonic illusion of the planet and it’s known defenses.

“This is only the beginning of the surprises we have in store for them.”

Thrawn studied the maps with dark intent. Unlike the others however he kept his own thoughts to himself. Ideas formed like evanescent ghosts behind the blood red, glowing eyes of the Chiss warlord. Wheels within wheels, plans within plans. The more he thought about it the more a spectacular work of art formed in his mind. Causality was a novice's joke in Thrawn's domain of mind, and he threw his mental forces through a dozen possibilities.

He turned to Nhur-Galladu. "I would greatly appreciate it if perhaps one of your aide-de-camps or other, someone with this same telepathic link, to write a report on the present Coredian positions. From that I can form a strategy. And if I may be so bold as to acquire this same aide to remain with me as a member of my staff, giving me constant updates."

Thrawn turned to Remiel. "With such information at our hands I can craft a battle plan to decimate the rebel scum. They shall know the error of their ways once Imperial truth hits them like a hammer to the anvil."

“Certainly, an Aide along with a Cloaked Kython will be sent from my ship as soon as the meeting is over for any who wish the information. The Ta’Nar Aide can convert the information directly into your computers using their CyberPsi if you provide them with a secure terminal to work with. If you worry about the presence of the Kython they can remain within the shuttle and the whole process can be accomplished from those confines. I understand your unease when it comes to them.”

Nhur-Galladu looked at the projection and watched the arrival of some additional reinforcements, namely the Ganoxian Frst Fleet. The place was a veritable fortress now with the multinational forces both in orbit and on the ground.

“You know, I really have no idea why they are putting all their eggs in a single basket. That would leave the other planets wide open. I haven’t found any reason for that odd behavior.”

"We have further surprises in store for the Coredian... We've recently developed a few bits of technology they haven't encountered yet such as our scrabmling systems, and our newly adapted shielding technology which has even better protection against the kind of pathetic weapons they use... They should prove to be very useful in these days ahead. Perhapse the Nosferatu Class will be of some use in this battle..." The Emperor turned his head to Itatchi, "your brother-in-law already fears their power, having lost the Chimera from one. Perhpase we should... Intergrade that with our plans."

OOC: Was that message for the whole of LoC, or just the named ones?

OOC: Bal, could you email me a text document containing all the information you know (through this IC connection of course) both about present enemy fleet locations and all the known worlds of CoreWorlds? my email is: sengokutenno@gmail.com

OOC: Was that message for the whole of LoC, or just the named ones?

OOC: All and any

OOC: All and any

OOC: 'kay. Just assume Emperor Hadriel is just at the fking meeting for lol. .-.

OOC:

Any sort of document would be impossible because the information is realtime. Just figure out what the Godular forces might detect or even overhear from these two Threads:

The Emperor is Dead Thread (http://http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=530939)

In Defense of Jurai (planning thread) (http://http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=538335)

Remember, I can only provide what the Godular forces experience and assume it will not be perfect all the time.

Nhur-Galladu chuckled to himself and created another holograph.

The image showed the inside of the meeting where a large black and white furry creature was sitting.

During all this, Admiral Jet Brewster had been quietly listening and making mental notes. He now approached Lord Masaki, his towering figure looking down at the coredian, yet he spoke with sincere goodwill: "It seems to me that we are dealing with multiple threats. I have 150 ships under my command, 2 of which are essentially big-ass guns capable of taking out any planet or deathstar, while "planetkiller" bombs are onboard all of my 150 ships. Do you have any suggestions as to which planet/system I should deploy my forces in order to facilitate a better defence? I would prefer to keep my forces in one big fleet, as it greatly enhances my tactical options during battle, instead of sending them to different systems... maybe we could make a strike at Chronosian territory, although I feel that my resources would be better used in bolstering deffences, but that's your call...


“Well, well, it appears that you have a fan club Remiel. Perhaps we should sharpen our claws on those drunken Ursuloids as a sort of prequel of what is to come. Does anyone know of their location? Can the Dark Gods divine it for their and our pleasure?”

Remiel chuckled lightly as he watched, drumming a hand against the hungered handle of one of his daemonblades, feeling it contort and shudder beneath his grasp. His tongue licked out across his lips as he examined the scene in detail, almost bemused by what he saw. The galaxy certainly was full of pretentious fools and would-be powers.

"I think it stands as best for us to ignore the presumption of the little cogs, and rather focus on the big wheels. The Coredians will doubtlessly surround themselves with meatshield allies, pathetic and ignorant fools who will lay down their lives for Masaki's regime.

We shall shatter their bulwarks and their Bastions, and leave them with nothing but ashes. I shall chose from amongst you, my Chosen, my Anointed...And they shall lead the endeavor that I shall set before you.

Those who take into themselves my blessing, shall live forever as favored agents of the Warmaster, and break the enemy before them with righteous fury and retribution. But first..." He raised his hand in a gesture, food and wine being brought out by servitors, hunched beings who carried the immense platters upon their backs.

"First we feast, and toast the victory to come."

In a near worthless system near the Chronosian border, or rather, on the trailing edge of Chronosian ruination, a destroyer shot through the skies atop a column of fire. Behind it, illuminated by the light of its engines, a pin-prick of a crescent shape gave chase. Flickering tendrils of arcing energy reached out, caressing the destroyer, and its engines gave out, setting it to tumble end over end.


Later, Enlil watched as the chaos lord’s living armour was flensed away from his body, strips of it disappearing in a whickering green light. He swore and struggled, to little avail, and simultaneously twisted to try and pull as far away from Enlil as possible.

“I wouldn’t worry…” Enlil said, leaning forwards, “Soon, you will be destroyed. Utterly. There will be no demonhood or afterlife for you… Your knowledge will be processed, and what is left of you, simply obliterated… You will never be punished by your supposed god for this utter failure…

“Ah, I see that you mind has yielded what we wanted…” he reached forwards, angled his finger downwards, and pushed, the hand flickering with energy as it burnt a neat hole over the bridge of the petty warlord’s nose. He felt no remorse, in the utter dissemination of a ‘soul’ in the warp, lost to gods and men alike. Normally, the lord would have been able to survive a hole in the head handily thanks to the blessings of his deity. Things here were not normal.

Wordlessly, he communicated an instruction, reaching for a small, silvery sickle on the table beside the subject’s corpse.


The cloak of the acolyte, one of many in attendance, was of the skin of a man. Specifically, the pustule pocked skin of a worshipper of Nurgle, marked with icons of the plague father, that seemed, strangely, to carry no potency. One could look on them happily, as though they were mere pictures or drawings.

Its heavy hood covered his head completely, a shining sickly green glow seeping through the eyes and around them. It seemed completely shrouded in the skinned chaos worshipper, human, but massive, bulky, and to casual inspection, completely like any of a dozen acolytes of Remiel clustered there.

And yet, not. For the figure was somehow subtly wrong.

But then, in a place such as this, everything was wrong.

It watched, and waited, and then, the figure decided it was going to have a problem. While it certainly wasn’t at the high table, the issue of consumption of food hadn’t been considered. It was wasted space, and thus, the form it wore was not equipped for that function. Consequently, it would be questioned, soon.

Stepping forwards, the pariah lord seemed to grow, pace by pace, in its unnatural wrongness. For the mearest moment, the full oppressive weight of its sheer immutable reality was present, and whispering demons fell silent or twisted against their bonds in pain.

In a flicker of consuming crimson, the skin cloak disappeared into cinders that fell, mixed with a silver dust that cascaded from the fingers of the figure beneath, from the broad ceramic shoulders of a towering form as high as an Astartes warrior, leaner, and even more elegant than those graceful giants.

The pariah lord stood, and bowed, slightly, its hands shimmering through the air gracefully, before looking at Remiel. “You may have more allies than you know, Warmaster Remiel of Chronosia. For some time, my masters have observed the main branch of the culture you designate as Coredians. They have recently come to a conclusion, that this group are best suited to the status of chattels. It was their intention to move to possess and properly utilise this resource in the near future, for their amusement, but they have sent me here, to offer you amicable terms on their disposition among us, in exchange for the convenience of coordination…”

OOC: Yes. I did check this with Chronosia beforehand. And yes, there's a fair possibility of him getting shot. I don't really mind. Working with the Chronosians or working for me, it's all good.

“Well, well, it appears that you have a fan club Remiel. Perhaps we should sharpen our claws on those drunken Ursuloids as a sort of prequel of what is to come. Does anyone know of their location? Can the Dark Gods divine it for their and our pleasure?”

Helion smiled, baring teeth filed to razor points, serpentine tongue dancing behind them.

"There is nothing that the Changer does not see, my daemonic friend, no secret unknown to Him. If it is His will, the inebriated fools will be consumed by His glorious flames..."

Helion paused for a moment, snatching a morsel from a serving tray, lifting it screaming to his mouth before devouring it whole. Turning his attention back to the conversation at hand, his thin lips parted in an enigmatic smile.

"It only remains to be asked then, is it His will... Perhaps we may further discuss this after-"

Helion froze, another writhing mouthful clutched in his claws. An inhuman growl rose in his throat, his hand darting to the daemon blade by his side as he rose from his seat, at the exact moment that the Nurgle worshipper's flesh peeled away, exposing the ceramic frame of the Necron below.

"Pariah... You dare desecrate this holy site with your presence, Necrontyr? Your words of alliance are hollow, servant of false gods. What reason have we to trust you, a craven who only dares walk among us shrouded in the flesh of a true servant? What reason do I have to refrain from rend you to scrap, from removing your blasphemous visage from this realm?"

OOC: C'tan! Good to see you! More guns the better in my opinion, but I do have to keep up appearances. Hope you don't mind.

Itachi calmly ate the meal before him with a pair of chopsticks he always kept with him. He barely registered the Necrontyr before him, except to feel a strange presence. "You realize that the chattel you speak of are my people, however misguided they are under Masaki's control. You tread on thin ice."

He wiped the corners of his mouth with a corner of his hankerchief. His eyes rose to take in the Necrontyr. "Speak, stranger. What foul plan have you in mind for those who should be welcomed in the Empress' loving arms?"

Enlil wasn’t, here at least, capable of smiling, but he seemed to give the impression as he glanced over his shoulder to Helion, “For a start, that would be pointless, it would achieve nothing, save perhaps to remove me from your sight, which I suppose you would consider a boon. We would still be there, I would survive. And it would be discourteous, at least until your host tells you he wishes me removed, no?” He offered no correction to the distinction between himself and a necrontyr, volunteering free information would be pointless.

He turned his cold gaze to Itachi, next, “You have a poor way of showing it, if you have some concern for ‘your people’” he echoed Itachi’s voice for a moment, “then you might at least pay token concern for how they are likely to suffer in this invasion, with or without our involvement. While my masters have ways, those that remain are but amateurs in the field of spite and sadism compared to the followers of Slanessh,” The word seemed nothing more than sounds when he said it, “and if you think the other chaotic powers have any higher regard for civilians, you are sadly deluded. It stands to reason that you must be either unimaginably stupid, to have come so far and still to stand in approval of an invasion with these allies, or more likely, your claims of having any regard for the common Coredian are utterly untrue, even if you do not know it…”

After the rebuttal from the newcomer, the room seemed silent for a few moments until it was broken by a soft chuckle from the Ta’Nar. Nhur-Galladu had noticed a strange aura from the false priest but then again everyone else had their own strange aura so it was not out of the ordinary, even for this room. When the Ctan representative had stepped forward and dropped it’s disguise, It was with a little surprise but the Ta’Nar had not allowed any reaction to be displayed. While the Necrontyr was making his introduction, the Ta’Nar was carefully studying the being, analyzing the curious ways energies washed from and around the artificial creature.

The rumors were correct; they did resemble the Kythons in a small way. They were both constructed out of a black living metal and certainly looked inhuman. They also seemed to be a living body that contained a separate living sentience. That was where the similarities seemed to stop. Whatever substance it was composed of was certainly not Thur’Tahg. Its energy patterns were completely wrong for that.

When the creature returned a quick rebuttal to two challenges issued by Helion and Itachi, it was a measure of the quick thinking of the intellect contained within. Nhur-Galladu could not help but to chuckle.

“This is Remiel’s Sanctuary. If he chose to allow any of us inside, it is his affair. To offer challenges to his judgment it is insulting his Hospitality. If he chooses to allow the rather interesting creature to stay, he will have my support. Besides, I have never met one of their kind before and after a few seconds it has already provided to be entertaining.”

Nhur-Galladu turned to the Necrontyr and introduced himself.

“I am Nhur-Galladu, the Warlord of the Ta’Nar and Ruler of Balrogga. Pardon my ignorance, but I am not aware of your identity.”

A chuckle escaped from Remiel's lips as he watched what transpired. A soulless fiend stood before him, a pawn of the hateful Star Gods, who sought only to stymie the glorious flow of Chaos. He let his mind drift, interlaced with the runic patterns around him, eternally aware, totally focussed as he stepped forward.

The air seemed to crackle with the psychic power of his insidious vocation, energy dancing in coruscating waves across his archaic and flawless armour.

"The Coredians are ultimately a secondary concern to us, Itachi. You hold in the palm of your hand those who would be called true Coredians, and I would not waste the Lady's time upon vain notions of re-educating those minds poisoned by Masaki.

Countless will suffer, millions will die and I will not move to stop it. Better that traitors learn their lessons through pain than endure to frustrate us from within. Masaki would not hesitate to kill any servant of Empire, or Imperium, and you would have us use caution?

All worlds that swear allegience to the Coredians shall burn, and all worlds that are touched by Masaki shall be scoured clean.

Speak swiftly, Necron...If you wish to work at our side, to taste of the Coredians...Then you will do so at a distance. I won't tolerate the trickeries of your Masters, nor shall I loose the will of the Gods upon them.

Perhaps in this endeavor...We can avoid the old enmities."

“Indeed,” the gleaming silvery figure said, nodding a little to Remiel as it did so, “for now such matters are not our concern, “And I am,” he turned his head fractionally to regard Nhur-Galladu, “Enlil,” there didn’t seem to be a second name, or any elaboration upon his status. “In answer to the earlier question, it is our intention to move against the Coredians simultaneously with you, with a focus on major population centres. I think it would perhaps be wise to catalogue everyone’s objectives before assigning priority to targets and deriving a strategy. I expect our host,” he waved a hang languidly at Remiel, “wishes mostly to remove the irritant from their sides, and prove their superiority in military victory… Which makes me expect your strategy will require a rapid destruction of military and interplanetary assets” he tilted his head to the side, “and perhaps evangelise… Your mistress,” he turned to regard Itachi in an arch manner, "wishes to establish control, so I expect you wish to eliminate the Jedi ruling caste and seize mechanisms of government...”

Darth Trilkan sighed at the squabbles between the Coredians and the Necrontyr. "We're all treading on thin ice here. If I may quote Darth Kreia, 'to be united in hatred is a... Fragile alliance at best.' Though perhaps with our collective wisdom and our hatred, we can be stronger than those the ancient Lord served with, and we will last eternally. I agree with Remiel, we must put asside our old enmities. Personally, I look forward to seeing the Necrontyr in action, for I have heard many rumors of their capabilities. "

“Indeed,” the gleaming silvery figure said, nodding a little to Remiel as it did so, “for now such matters are not our concern, “And I am,” he turned his head fractionally to regard Nhur-Galladu, “Enlil,” there didn’t seem to be a second name, or any elaboration upon his status. “In answer to the earlier question, it is our intention to move against the Coredians simultaneously with you, with a focus on major population centres. I think it would perhaps be wise to catalogue everyone’s objectives before assigning priority to targets and deriving a strategy. I expect our host,” he waved a hang languidly at Remiel, “wishes mostly to remove the irritant from their sides, and prove their superiority in military victory… Which makes me expect your strategy will require a rapid destruction of military and interplanetary assets” he tilted his head to the side, “and perhaps evangelise… Your mistress,” he turned to regard Itachi in an arch manner, "wishes to establish control, so I expect you wish to eliminate the Jedi ruling caste and seize mechanisms of government...”
"And anyone else of their ilk who seeks to oppose us." Itachi nodded.

"The Coredians are ultimately a secondary concern to us, Itachi. You hold in the palm of your hand those who would be called true Coredians, and I would not waste the Lady's time upon vain notions of re-educating those minds poisoned by Masaki.

Countless will suffer, millions will die and I will not move to stop it. Better that traitors learn their lessons through pain than endure to frustrate us from within. Masaki would not hesitate to kill any servant of Empire, or Imperium, and you would have us use caution?"
"But of course not. I did not mean to insinuate that we use caution. Mercy is for the Jedi." Itachi curled his lips. "I do not care for foolish notions of mercy, only that the strong control the weak and that we rule and they do not. You are right, of course. The millions sacrificed in this war are a worthy price to pay for the defeat of the Rebellion and it will also weaken the Jedi's resolve in the process."

The pariah bowed its head in acknowledgement and fell silent.

The Ursa Minor Dwarf Galaxy

The elongated crescent shape of a necrontyr cruiser displacement vessel burnt through the place at an astonishing pace, cruising at about two thirds the velocity of light itself, here amongst the long-dead stars of this galaxy. It fired two then three dozen small blocks out of it, towards the system’s sole asset, a vast asteroid belt…

"Of course it is. Now that we have that sorted, we can move on to more pressing matters. The Coredians are gathering at Jurai, of this we can be certain. Jurai is where the primary battles of this war shall be fought. But Jurai is a singular concern. While a main Imperial Strikeforce batters at the very walls of Jurai, we shall take the opportunity to set aflame the Coredian realm.

Entire systems shall burn beneath the fury of our armies, planets shall be sundered and consumed. We shall utilise our strengths to our fullest, assailing the foe from space and from the ground.

If the C'tan wish to harvest from the Coredian ranks then they are welcome to them." He chuckled wryly. "I shall work with each of you to make sure that the strength of every nation is brought to bear where it can serve us most...The ground proficiency of the Thrashians, for example. The space capabilities of the Huntaerian or the Colonials.

All will serve a place in the grand designs that we shall put forth. And all shall share in the death of the Coredians."

Trilkan nodded in agreement, "of course. As I said before, the Nosferatu class would be a great asset in this battle. Not only because it is an advanced piece of weaponry, but because it's a symbol of fear. And it is a symbol which Daniel and the Coredians fear of the Huntarians the most. And a small escort of Carries along side with a modified Warhammer class to deliver the maximum amount of casualties for the Coredians. And... I think when Vorman is done with his mission with the Terrans, he'd like to participate in the harvesting with the C'tan. I know it's been a long time since he's had any coredian flesh."

Enlil looked a little like a supercilious Coredian Protocol droid, as he tilted his head back, looking at the Huntaerian representative as if taken aback, “Perhaps. That is not quite what we plan on doing, of course, but I’m sure we can come to some arrangement that would satisfy such… organic desires.”


Meanwhile, asteroids swarmed with creatures of various sizes. Larger constructs the size of trucks coordinated the doings of ‘scarab’ units of sizes ranging from large dogs to hair-mites. They swarmed as a living carpet over the asteroid, which over time would dwindle under their attentions, as the smaller units built themselves into larger ones, and streams of the largest flew from its surface to begin the process again on the next asteroids.

Enlil looked a little like a supercilious Coredian Protocol droid, as he tilted his head back, looking at the Huntaerian representative as if taken aback, “Perhaps. That is not quite what we plan on doing, of course, but I’m sure we can come to some arrangement that would satisfy such… organic desires.”

"Not "flesh" to be exact. He always uses that terminology to scare off the undiciplined officers in the fleet. As the Lord of Death, he needs his consumption filled Via souls. Though he has recently had his supply met after the destruction of the Ultraz System by one of our little weapons tests, his need for souls and the occasional flesh it would seem (though hardly ever) is hardly ever filled. As I recall, he does have the flesh of former Grand Admiral Ezekiel decorated as one of his many show cases in his Meditation Chambers to remind those in the Empire as to what defeat will get you..."

Thrawn sipped on a glass of red wine, watching the exchange between the newly arrived Lord of metal and the others. It was a bit entertaining. The glowing red settled on Remiel however at the mention of his country.

"I have something of which may be of use to us in the coming campaign," interrupted Thrawn. "A new weapon by which, with our unprecedented intelligence, should assure us an easy enough victory in Jurai. And no," he said before anyone raised the question," it is not some callus super weapon upon which to rest our hopes."

He turned to Remiel. "However I would wish to discuss it in secret with you Emperor Remiel before I mention it to this gathering...I am always questioning the ability of our peoples to keep certain things secret. With this new insight gained by our Balroggan allies...it makes me wonder if it can be turned against us in kind. Such as it is, I must therefore be ever more secretive."

“OK, let’s cut away from the posturing and get down to some real planning.”

If his interruption caused glares from the others in the room, it did not seem the Ta’Nar noticed.

“For starters I can assign a fleet to each of the Coredian Theaters. More can be sent as needed and my reinforcements are only a ten minute wormhole trip away. My Advisor, Atrox will undoubtedly take his fleet wherever he is led but I have not been in communication with him as of late. We are good at space battles but we don’t capture planets. Prisoners are not our style, they never have.”

“Where do you need the Ta’Nar?”




OOC:

Just trying to keep this moving…

The Heart of the Empire (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=539240)

OOC: Ok the invasion thread is up and running. Right now I am trying to destablize the Coredian alliances, but when that is over feel free to come in after his population is demoralized and help destroy them :)

OOC: You crackers need me? I won't go against CW directly, you guys can have him, but I'll make his allies extinct. :D

OOC: Chron would you like me to begin operations or allow you to make the grand entrance first?

OOC: Hm, everyone post preparing for now.

We'll move on my signal :D

OOC: You crackers need me? I won't go against CW directly, you guys can have him, but I'll make his allies extinct. :D

OOC: Que pasa?

Probably not Trailers. I think its pretty much over-kill as is.

(*Peeks in and yawns*)

Yay Coreworlds!....

OOC:

Also, Coreworlds, please check your telegrams.

ok everything is set up now. We can begin whenever.

Sorry about the wait... and sorry that it was such a long wait for such a tiny post...

Some time after the meeting between the 'Lords of Chaos', a lone Godulan vessel materialized at the edge of Chronosian space, radiating forth a signal requesting an audience with Remiel... or 'Whoever was in charge at this point in time... or now... or now... or now... or now...'

OOC: So, anyone else planning to join in this party any time soon?

OOC:

I might, if I'm allowed. Not much time during the weekday, some time during the weekend. Who knows?

OOC: So, anyone else planning to join in this party any time soon?

I have been here, Bal and Huntaer are also ready, just waiting on Chrono to give the word.

OOC: I've got a post coming pretty soon. My apologies that it was delayed this long.

Who took Nhur-Galladu up on his offer to back you up with a fleet? He offered one to each of the Lords at the meeting earlier. Please post here if you did.

When you arrive at your designated system, assume they arrived shortly after you did. You can post them arriving and taking up formation beside your ships if you wish.

OOC: Really need Chron to respond to my post a ways above... its kinda critical to plot developments and whatnot...

The signal was sent, welcoming the Godulan vessel to the meeting. Remiel had felt the psychic cacophany, the call for him and his assistance and found it pleasingly surprising that the Godulans should jump sides at this critical juncture.

Even insuring their neutrality would bring them so much more...

The small Godulan vessel came into existence over the now somewhat-less-crowded meeting site, and shortly afterwards, a single Godulan envoy materialized on Chronosian Territory in what would be something of a historical precedent for the Godulans.

First Godulan to walk on Chronosian Soil... If only it didn't make me feel a little dirty, the Avatar -- by name of Nocturne -- thought to himself, with somewhat subtle agreement from the other minds within his body. But things needed to be done, and a simple memorandum would not be sufficient to the task... and it remained to be seen whether the Chronosians considered what was coming to be good news...

"You are welcome amongst our number, Godulan. Only the will of the Gods could bring you to our side at such a key juncture. I would know what you intend to do in the war to come. The Coredians might still stand as your allies, you might dote upon them but the time for sitting by the wayside is over.

They have betrayed your principles, your beliefs. You have been antagonised and undermined, and I feel the pain of your leaders. The question now, is what shall you do?"

"You may spare us the silver tongue, Warlord. We have cast our support to your 'cause' but we are by no means mindless peons to be awed with smooth talk and large gestures. The picture is clear now, and all have their own fault in the destruction of the Colonies. You, for orchestrating the whole thing from the beginning. The Coredians, and even more so the Abh for allowing you, and then panicking when they realized their error. The Imperials for latching on like the parasites they are and turning the whole thing into a political statement despite the fact that they are guilty of far worse and far more numerous crimes. And the Cylons for the perpetration of the most heinous act of the entire dismal play.

"But who should feel the pain for this act? You, for pulling the strings? The Coredians for criminal stupidity? The Abh for... well we just want to make them hurt in general... pompous little tardigrades they are. No... feeling backed into a corner is insufficient excuse for the Cylons to annihilate over ninety percent of the colonial population. Our wrath is with them more than anyone."

Nocturne paused for a moment, scanning the remarkably gothic surroundings. "Nice ambiance. Needs a bit more 'glowy' though..."

Snapping back into what amounted to lucidity, the Avatar continued. "Enough with the 'Screw You' vibes. We're here, we've thrown our lot. We know you're coming for the Coredians. We know you and your ravening hordes are chomping at the bit to come for Jurai. There's just a little issue...

"We kinda own it now."

OOC:

Just a reminder that the attacks have begun and the other Lords should also be assaulting CW's planets.

Right now it is just Ctan, the Cylons (part of OG's), and Balrogga. Chron has posted readying for the attack but hasn't actually began yet.

Also, who accepted my offering fleets to assist?

OOC: Mind posting a thread in here to this "attack" of yours?

OOC:

Just a reminder that the attacks have begun and the other Lords should also be assaulting CW's planets.

Right now it is just Ctan, the Cylons (part of OG's), and Balrogga. Chron has posted readying for the attack but hasn't actually began yet.

Also, who accepted my offering fleets to assist?

OOC: All I need is a target (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13161482&postcount=75). I don't know where, exactly, I should be attacking.

And as a player, I'd be happy to have one of your fleets with me, but I don't think the Vaxintorians would ask for one IC.

OOC: Mind posting a thread in here to this "attack" of yours?

I think this (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=539240) is what you're looking for.

OOC: Still more kinda-plot-critical-stuff inc... just need Chron to post again

OOC: Mind posting a thread in here to this "attack" of yours?

Here is post #57 from earlier in this Thread that told us where to go:


The Heart of the Empire (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=539240)

OOC: Ok the invasion thread is up and running. Right now I am trying to destablize the Coredian alliances, but when that is over feel free to come in after his population is demoralized and help destroy them :)





And as a player, I'd be happy to have one of your fleets with me, but I don't think the Vaxintorians would ask for one IC.


You wouldn't have to ask because my Leader volunteered them to whomever wished. I made the offer to send a fleet with each Lord back in post #56. I also offered to send one of my Kythons and an aide with whomever wished back in post #32 to allow better communication between Lord vessels and sharing sensor information.

So much for my little surprise. *sigh*

I don't think anyone knew you were planning anything. You mentionrd something but after weeks of it not being mentioned again nobody knew anything. You can still probably pull it on one of the other worlds, just not the two inflamed in war. Perhaps they will distraction them for you...

I don't think anyone knew you were planning anything. You mentionrd something but after weeks of it not being mentioned again nobody knew anything. You can still probably pull it on one of the other worlds, just not the two inflamed in war. Perhaps they will distraction them for you...

It can still be used against the main target I believe: Jurai.

Remiel chuckled lightly, his shoulders rising in an almost dismissive shrug. "You'll get it back, won't you?" He smiled, lightly, almost teasingly, as though toying with his food. "I have no interest in the world. Only in the vermin which shelter upon it, and despoil countless other worlds. They shall know the wrath of the Gods.

And I shall know my victory, my triumph and my revenge. All must bow their heads to the glory of Chaos. The Coredians are merely the next branch that yearn to be purified."

"The world is ours. It was half-ours in the first place, the other part has simply shifted to our jurisdiction because they are evacuating ahead of your onslaught.

"So long as any innocent civilians live upon the surface of Jurai, they are under our protection and our jurisdiction. We will allow no harm to come to them. Any military or governmental facilities under their present control remain excluded from this protection, and military and government personnel have been... asked to depart from civilian population centers until such time as they conduct their egress or somebody else conducts their demise. We will have a shield active to defend civilian populations from external assault, but this shield will not protect the military and governmental facilities. Those entities qualify as capable of defending themselves and as such..."

The Godulan smirked slightly: "We couldn't give two shits about them."

"You have our support now, Remiel. But no matter who we choose to support, we will not be a party to wholesale slaughter. You know this of us. You know we will not idly stand by 'just this once'. You will have a Masaki head to mount on your wall, for we will allow him sanctuary on Godulan territory nevermore, but you will have to go through us to get at the civilians."

"There are other worlds that you have less claim to that can provide adequate amusement. Jurai will be yours again, and I shall have what I seek. The Coredians will suffer and burn for their transgressions. But I am a generous God." A chuckle, throaty and mocking, drifts upwards from his lips. "There is much to be done." He let his voice rise, till all about him could hear.

"The hour for war is now! And the doom of the Coreworlds is sealed! By strong, endure! And bring their Empire to its knees!"

Speaking of the Empire, replied the Godulan via telepathic missive. Do not assume that our present hostilities with the Galactic Imperials have been curtailed. You believe the Coredians are a blight, so to do we feel the same with the Imperials. It was hoped that a coordinated strike could eliminate both sides of the war in a single move, but it seems we must conduct separate operations.

OOC:

Are any of the other Lords of Chaos going to strike anytime soon?

Speaking of the Empire, replied the Godulan via telepathic missive. Do not assume that our present hostilities with the Galactic Imperials have been curtailed. You believe the Coredians are a blight, so to do we feel the same with the Imperials. It was hoped that a coordinated strike could eliminate both sides of the war in a single move, but it seems we must conduct separate operations.

To all things their season, Godulan. Do not think us unsympathetic to your plight. Patience, of course, is that which we have learned to embrace. Preparing for the moment when all who oppose the true way shall be dealt with.

The bonds of Teravine shall never fade. Nor shall the brotherhood of the Three.

Message to members of the Black Crusade:

Konoha has fallen. It is now burning in nuclear fire. We have accomplished our Objective and removed what was rumored to be the heaviest guarded Coredian world from the ranks of being habitable.

Request other member’s successes.