A Horde in the Clone Wars (Star Wars AU)

[Grimmatt]

For several months now, the Jedi had been aware of something, a distant voice that was slowly rising, tickling on the edges of the force. It was, as the most sensitive among them reported, like the long slow beating of a great drum. And for a moment, that voice fell silent, before the song began to be known. For most of the jedi or others attuned to the force, this echoing song was nothing more than a distant pulse, an echo on the cosmic winds. For those among the stars that made up Hutt Space however?

This was a song of retribution, of a debt to be paid, that pounded in the bones like the heart of a star sized beast and was accompanied by the sky bleeding fire. Long had they wandered the outer rim in small bands after their creators had lost in the Sith Wars and greatly had they changed. Forgotten by most, the course of the clone wars shifted in blood and fire, as the Jotun Horde, as the Joyous Beast of Battle, descended.

For a thousand years ago, a slave had done a warlord a kindness and moved his heart with a tale, and so he swore an oath. In fire the chains would be broken. In blood the chained set free.

 

[Grimmatt]

Tol Amn was a name that was, to those that knew of it, fairly unremarkable. It was a simple world on the edges of Huttspace, where those bound to the world labored, growing the vast amounts of food that their masters demanded for their palaces and markets on other worlds and seeing precious little of the rewards of their toil. Still, as many of the elders said, it could be far worse.

To be sure, they were property and any attempt at breaking the rules in a manner that was visible resulted in harsh punishments (as did failing to meet quotas), but between the growing seasons they were largely left alone with only minimal oversight from their masters. For the most part as well, most offworlders and the masters only looked around the spaceport, held in the only real city on the world (Tol Amn), the rest of it being left a rural agricultural world.

Of course, one of the primary characteristics of this world was that at the best of times its climate could be called 'stormy'. And it was likely for this reason that they ignored the gathering storm, seeing it as little different than any other atmospheric event. A handful of the serfs on the ground however, looked up at those gathering clouds, frowns on their faces. There was a darkness in those clouds, rain starting to fall across their bodies and thunder rumbling in the distance.

***************************************************************************************************************************************************************
(Mood Music)

High above Tol Amn, a figure waited on a strange ship. Massive by the standards of the galaxy at large, he shifted in his command throne, eyes firmly on the orb in front of him, as around him other figures stood still, eyes all focused on that singular point. Each of them could hear it, taste it even as the orb started to shift, mist swirling and firming, before light erupted, a face much like their own, broad and craggy features marked by scars, appearing.

"Brothers! Sisters! Little kinsfolk! A thousand years ago an oath was sworn, that Depur would be slain! By blood I swore this, by water I swore this! I marched up to his palace and beheaded him, and thought my oath fulfilled! And yet, when I returned, I found the people crying, for Depur had come once more. It was then that I recognized the full weight of my oath, and so, I gathered you all here."

His features are stern, as the focus shifted, as the world appears below him in profile. "Once more all the clans and bands of the Jotun are assembled, the oaths sworn and the steel bound, and now this I say! Let the horde go forth! Let loose the beast and stain the stars red! Let not a Depur live through the storm! Death to the Hutts!"

There is a roar, a thousand single voice with a thousand throats as feet slam down, and the final command is given, before no more speech is necessary. Why would they need to speak, when they are are each other, when each of them is part of the whole, another drop of rain in this cleansing storm?

"Stormcallers! The honor of the first strike is yours!"

***************************************************************************************************************************************************************
(Mood Music)

Across a dozen worlds, the same thing can be seen, as the storm clouds roll in. They were a sudden thing, black and rippling with lightening, vast bolts of lightening arcing and rippling in the clouds, even the very air seems to become charged with the promise of violence. And yet, it is also not long before the worlds recognize that they are under attack.

For what else can you call it when the atmosphere of your planet churns with a raging ion storm of all things as scanners manage to pick up a thousand forms dropping from the skies cradled in sheet lightening and fire, as the music starts to pulse and beat, whispering at first in the ears of the slaves and serfs and yet soon spreading as those streaking figures bank, ripples of lightening condensing around each of them, before they slam into the ground, ionic pulse slamming out around them.

And yet, if that had been all, it would have just sent them reeling, as they needed to bring systems back online, only hardened systems still managing to keep themselves intact. Yet each of those thousand objects began to stand. Some of the defense forces started to scream about Confederacy droids, how this was a breach of their neutrality... even as they started to lope, hammers at the ready towards the control centers of each worlds defensive hubs.

The storm had fallen and nothing would be left standing when it broke.

 

[Grimmatt]

30 Minutes after Stormfall, Tol Amn
(Palace of Otteb Null)

The thing is, Jodirk Bee reflected, is that this was supposed to be a simple and quiet gig. Sure, he had grumbled in his cups and made sure to get the occasional hunt in, but by the Scorekeeper, guard duty here was boring! Granted, as he looked over the scanners and smacked the malfunctioning piece of junk, that was because nobody was stupid enough to attack the hutts. Well, that and this was an agriworld, so its not like there was anything valuable here.

Yet... "So, anyone else know where that racket is coming from?" His tone is not a surly snarl, even as he is debating just calling for someone to take a look at this... if the communications had not become filled with static. Because of course, there had to be a sudden thunderstorm this bad when HE was just an hour from getting off sitting here instead of drinking.

One of the new blood, he did not bother remembering the softskins name, shook its head. "Ah, not that we can tell, not coming from the radios or the holo, so..." The man shrugs, even as Jodirk sighs.

"Okay, go grab one of the techs, see if they can..."

Whatever he was about to say is drowned out in the roar of an explosion, as Xas Gredmu rushes in, blaster in hand. "Jodirk you toothless hatchling! How the frack did you you miss that we were under attack!" The fellow Trandoshan was all but spitting, as in the background the sound of thunder accompanied what seemed to be great war drums and wind through strange pipes.

"Nothing but static on the screens and comm, storms playing havoc." Jodrik does not get to finish, before a fist slams into his jaw, knocking him to the ground, before there is a click, and the radios static turns into another kind, that of a hundred reports streaming in at once and talking over reach other.

"We got giants at" "Lightening just tore us apart!" "We got shields and mines around the port!" "Ships covered in lightening just flew over us, bolts arced out towards the barricades"

As the radio reports kept rolling in, largely about various giants slamming into the defenses (such as they were) and landing additional troops, he was rather... wide mouthed as Xas hissed out his own thoughts on the matter. "The first thing we are told to do when a storm comes in is to switch the comm frequency to one that can handle it better." A foot lashed out, striking the fallen lizard in the side, a grunt pushed from his lips. "Now, here is what you are going to do. Get your blaster and try and kill as many of the attackers as you can before they kill you or you are going to have to find out how Otteb is planning on entertaining herself when these idiots are driven off."

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10 Minutes after Stormfall, Tol Amn
(Tol Amn Star Port)

Blocky black ships moved down, passing through the storm with little in the way of fanfare, even as gates opened and ramps shot out as soon as they hit the ground and started to move, massive figures in pitch black armor striding forward even as hoverbikes screamed around them, riders darting into the streets and looping back as those large figures placed down great crystals, crystals that started to hum and pulse as a bubble, with the top open, started to form around the port.

Yet, over the next twenty minutes, only two more transports come, as buildings around the port are broken down and walls assembled, gun pits dug and figures closer in proportion to the bulk of the galaxies residents stream into the streets amid this ongoing construction effort, often with a black armored giant carrying a massive shield.

It would surprise many that this sudden barrage of invaders meets little to no actual, practical resistance for the first several minutes, and after that it tended to be more sporadic as they approached the palace and some of the central administration buildings. But in large part, this should not be too unexpected either.

While the Hutts have long had a reputation, and more than one invasion attempt died stillborn due to rumors of weapons kept from the Hutt cataclysms, the truth of the matter is that they had transitioned to mercenary and private small armies, rather than a united force. Sure, they could command assassins and powerful criminal cartels... but in actual open warfare?

In the first hours, as the Jotun close on the palace, the much vaunted might of the hutts is found wanting.

 

[Grimmatt]

Two hours after Stormfall, Tol Amn
(Palace of Otteb Null)

For the greater part, the fighting, while it had picked up to some degree, had not actually been worthy of being called a battle. A skirmish perhaps, yet, as Livert Shatterskull brought his mace down on another squealing pigs head, it would not do to get complacent for the actual battles ahead. This was, as his shield moved in front of several bolts that could have impacted the Spear Host he was attached to, a farming world on the border. That, foot striking one of those little lizards into more of its kind like a screaming ball, and the Hutts tended to have gangs more than armies,

It was something that he, like many of the others found hard to come to terms with, but at the very least as his torso just moved and a turret was caved in, it just made the whole thing into a series of pockets of resistance. Which meant, as freed 'serfs' joined in the song, gifted blasters in hand, that they merely needed to break the spine and provide the tools for the others to shake the chains off.

But, as the song thundered in his soul, was a little bit of an actual fight too much to ask for?

*************************************************************************************************************************************************************
Three hours after Stormfall, Tol Amn
(Space)

Vidisa Crowseye nearly shook her scared head as the station she was on dropped out of hyperspace, tether-tugs still pulling as they moved to a central location. She could understand that the Hutts had been relying on their reputation more than actual ability to make war for centuries, if not millennia, not to mention they spoke of vengeance and retaliation rather than their ability to repulse said attacks, but this had been just pathetic. Three hours for the wings of Warhawks and voidcraft to make pulling in a Hellhiem defense platform, with no local defense systems?

While not a Blacksteel Colossus to feel professional outrage over the systems non-existent defenses, the Voidwyrm commander sneered, even as her Rimesguard reported in, all systems online and minefields deploying, sensor buoys launched and Riptide interceptors charged for any counter attacks. As the defense platform moved into position, she nodded.

She could not wait to greet any of the Hutts friends that decided to try their luck against her.

***********************************************************************************************************************************************************
Six hours after Stormfall, Tol Amn
(In front of the Palace of Otteb Null)

The city had been taken, as had the control nodes, and teams were sweeping for any boltholes and hideouts, looking to quickly shatter any remaining resistance. Still, as Edmund Stormcry looked over the assembled crowd, most of which were freed slaves, he raised a hand. "Little folk! A thousand years ago on a world far off an oath was sworn. For a thousand years we have been gathering, and now we come to shatter the chains! Still, your chips have been removed, but this is not the reason I have called for you to be here!"

Even as he spoke, other forms were bringing a wriggling and squirming mass, a hutt that was screaming and swearing, as former slaves looked on, faces filled with fear... that slowly transformed into vindictive glee and triumph. For all of their lives, they had to fear attracting the gaze of a Hutt, much less the one being dragged like some overgrown slug by four Jotun, and now?

Inside the ranks of the freed beings, one figure reached down, and picked up a small stone, before throwing it, the missile striking the Otteb Null and renewing its pledges of vengeance and the grisly torture's that awaited all that saw its humiliation. And yet, this one was the start, as others gathered their courage and began to throw more of these small stones, impacting the hutts hide to sting as they began to scream and hurl verbal abuse in turn. The stones that hit the giants were met with peels of laughter and a few spoken words of encouragement.

Yet, the former master of this world was soon on the dais, as Edmund looked over the crowd. "Now, if I could have your silence for a moment my good beings?" And his tone, while not raised, quelled the crowd, as they looked on, a sea of eyes that hungered, Every other Hutt had been killed out of hand, and so they wondered.. why now? "While I can guess, some formalities must be observed before we can proceed." At that, the hunger deepened, the crowd almost leaning forward.

"Are there any here, that would speak in his defense? To plead a case for his life?" There is a pause and a ripple of momentary shock, before they replied as one that there were NONE that would speak for him, anger and hunger spreading like a fire... or the Jotuns smile. "Well then, now that THAT is out of the way..."

His hands reached out, as he selected ten of the crowd, having them come into the stage and near a tower covered by a tarp. With a flourish, the giant removes it, showing a massive boot attached to the tower, one that was on the end of a muscle powered press, even as Otteb was strapped in place, held under the waiting boot.

"Each of you was noted for leadership and valor among those he held in chains, and so, who are we to steal this measure of justice from you all?" Edmund bowed, as the ten rushed to the wheel, and the boot descended, cranking and clanking to the screaming hutt.

And soon, of Otteb Null, there is little but a smear on a stage and the bottom of an oversized boot.

 

[Grimmatt]

One Week Before Stormfall

In his office, Palpatine oversaw much the business of the war, both those matters that he was supposed to be as the Grand Chancellor of the Republic, but thanks to all the additions he managed to put in the business he delegated to his tools and 'apprentices' in the Confederacy. It was tiring work running both sides of a galaxy spanning war, to say nothing of needing to carefully manage the corruption he had sown inside the republic. Most of which was not even caused by the Sith.

Indeed, as he looked over the last bit of paperwork for the day before he turned to more important concerns, it came as something of a shock to him that the Sith had been propping up the Republics for the last two hundred or so years, if only because all of the plans required there being able to take over as much of the galaxy in a single move as possible as they made sure to spread the seeds of their victory. Still, as he took the glass of wine (an indulgence he allowed himself only at the end of each of these long working days), he frowned.

Why was it, on the edges of the shroud, he was hearing a rather odd song? Something to look into, as he sunk into meditation, taking note... it seemed to be near Hutt space... perhaps it would be best to give a few calls over the net to check on a few sites.

Still, as he took a sip of the wine, he frowned. Tasted far too sweet.

**************************************************************************************************************************************************************
Three Days After Stormfall

His head would not stop pounding, as another spike of that blasted, wretched and infernal music screamed along the shroud. Still, he kept his face neutral, even as he looked over the reports in one of his most secure locations something that could prove to be... problematic. Even as he looked over what footage there was, the indications were.... troubling. Frankly, he had not considered it a possibility, if only because it had been over five hundred years since they last gathered in a host of a thousand.

And while that alone had been enough to shake several dozen systems to their foundations, it was nothing compared to the sheer scale of the unfolding disaster that was in front of him. As it was, an unknown, as far as the republic was concerned, force declaring war on the hutts and invading the single largest concentration of gangsters, criminals, slaves and scum in the known galaxy? Frankly, that was more of a problem that would resolve itself, hopefully leaving the hutts weakened enough to break their power and absorb them outright.

To be sure, there were some deployments and campaigns that would have to be adjusted, some diplomacy efforts on either side reworked, but that was something that he already could allocate resources and manpower towards. No, the problem was that the beasts warsong had infected the damn shroud!

Or at least, as another wave of music started and he had to bite down as acid ran through his brain, bones rattling inside of him, it reverberated into the shroud, Anakin had already asked about, well, his future apprentice was sadly NOT going crazy and hearing things, though apparently his own was rather different than what he had to suffer through!

He snarled in the dark. That was it, when he was able to focus more, shielding himself from this, he was going to exterminate the damn beasts!

 

[Grimmatt]

The Night Before Stormfall

He woke amid the sands (he had never left the desert, or was it that it had never left him?), the suns beating overhead as the winds danced and sang, the dunes moving in their hidden ways. Yet, as he walks, as he moves through the sands (shedding his human shape and soaring, whirling in the mask of the hawk), he can hear it, the beating drum of a heart and laughter that runs red.

And as he passes over the ridge (bones and chains, mingled and piled in a great heap, the stones of the past and flickers of perhaps), he sees something he has never seen before, nor thought of seeing in the sands, not standing in the cleft where water pools, sweet and fresh as green life clings to sand and rock (and yet, he was an old not quite friend, full of laughter and boastful joy). There, was sitting something not unlike a human stretched to three times the size they should be, and wearing but a loincloth and vest, scars and symbols crossing his chest and arms.

(It was a giant the size of the world, made of a hundred songs and tales of rattling blades, of the tempest between the stars clad in metal that drank the light as eyes containing the secret light at the heart of worlds looked out, eternally amused even as rivers of blood poured and dripped and screamed from those clawed hands)

"Come little Skywalker, share my camp and my bread, my mead and shade!" The figure spoke in the booming voice full of mirth and cheer (the thunder of battle cries and shrieking of artillery shells), as the sweep of his hand indicated a seat for him. And so, he sat beneath a tree that seemed to smell sweet, its blossoms delicate and fragile, the wind rustling through its branches seeming to whisper 'liberty'.

"I come with glad tidings, bringer of the rains, of an oath that nears completion, sworn to yourself in the mask you wore back then." There is a smile and knowing wink, as the creature looks to something on the horizon, a palace in the Hutt style (a darkness that looms and drinks in the light, as chains rustle and snap beneath its walls, and nothing as meager as hope would allowed to be free in this walls).

"In the morn, I am going to Depurs palace, and while he escaped me last time..." There is a chuckle then, hungry eyes turned to the fight to come (the howling of a beast that laughs as leaps to the hunt). "A thousand years I have gathered my brothers and sisters, and a thousand years I have prepared. We shall venture forth and leave not a stone standing as we unearth his secret places and drag him into the light, to be dragged into the desert."

There is a smile then, stretching across the creatures face (a cavern of fangs fit to swallow a ship whole). "Tell all that will, he who brings the rain, that the storm is coming at last."

And then his eyes fly open, as he awakes with a jolt, the scent and feel of the desert singing in his bones, as the taste of blood and sweet water is on his lips. And as he remembers who he is and where he came from, Anakin began to laugh. For in the end, he was born of the desert, and he would remember.

 

[Grimmatt]

Stormfall After action general summary ​

Tol Amn Theater; Planet primary pacification complete at Six Hours and twenty three minutes of operation start. Estimated time to complete system control and pacification of mercenary and guerilla forces four days. Slave chips have have been removed in primary settlement, expected time until complete liberation five days and three hours with current medical shifts and operations. First cadres of garrison troops have been recruited from liberated beings and initial defensive works are being expanded on primary beachheads.

Damage to agricultural sectors minimal, and supply projections are accurate.

Helhiem defensive platform in place and has begun extraction of small astral bodies for minerals for Draugr class automated defense platforms.

Mission successful and preparing for next stage of campaign.

Ilos Theater; Planet primary pacification complete at Six Hours and thirty seven minutes of operation start. Estimated time to complete system control and pacification of mercenary and guerilla forces two days. Slave chips have have been removed in major settlements, expected time until complete liberation three days hours current medical shifts and operations. First cadres of garrison troops have been recruited from liberated beings and initial defensive works are being expanded on primary beachheads.

Damage to agricultural sectors minimal, and supply projections are accurate. Due to local trade relations with mid-rim worlds a greater degree of attention from beyond Hutt space is probable. Have the local garrison commander to continue the current contracts to minimize local disruption and reduce military interest and intervention.

Helhiem defensive platform in place and has begun extraction of small astral bodies for minerals for Draugr class automated defense platforms. Ilosian natives already had a number of defensive satellites in orbit but were rendered inoperative via ion storm.

Mission successful and preparing for next stage of campaign.

Alee Theater; Planet primary pacification complete at Three hours and five minutes of operation start. Estimated time to complete system control and pacification of mercenary and guerilla forces two days. Slave chips have have been removed in primary settlement, expected time until complete liberation five days and three hours with current medical shifts and operations. First cadres of garrison troops have been recruited from liberated beings and initial defensive works are being expanded on primary beachheads.

Damage to agricultural sectors minimal, and supply projections are accurate.

Helhiem defensive platform in place and has begun extraction of small astral bodies for minerals for Draugr class automated defense platforms.

Mission successful and preparing for next stage of campaign.

Ziugen Theater; Planet primary pacification complete at nine hours and forty-eight minutes of operation start. Estimated time to complete system control and pacification of mercenary and guerilla forces two weeks. Slave chips have have been removed in primary settlement, expected time until complete liberation one month, two weeks and three days with current medical shifts and operations. First cadres of garrison troops have been recruited from liberated beings and initial defensive works are being expanded on primary beachheads.

Damage to agricultural and industrial sectors minimal, and supply projections are accurate. Work is ongoing on shifting local factories and industry to increase efficiency and worker safety, as well as pollution levels. Resources in place to create alchemical laboratories and arms manufacturing for arming the oppressed.

Two Helhiem defensive platforms in place and has begun extraction of small astral bodies for minerals for Draugr class automated defense platforms.

Mission successful and preparing for next stage of campaign.

Klatooine Theater; Planet primary pacification complete at Three hours and five minutes of operation start. Estimated time to complete system control and pacification of mercenary and guerilla forces two days. Slave chips have have been removed in primary settlement, expected time until complete liberation two days and three hours with current medical shifts and operations. First cadres of garrison troops have been recruited from liberated beings and initial defensive works are being expanded on primary beachheads.

Local resources minimal, primarily luxury items. Economic cooperation with Council of Elders has been approved, as have initial development plans.

Helhiem defensive platform in place and has begun extraction of small astral bodies for minerals for Draugr class automated defense platforms.

Mission successful and preparing for next stage of campaign.

Nimia Theater; Planet primary pacification complete at eight hours and forty-eight minutes of operation start. Estimated time to complete system control and pacification of mercenary and guerilla forces one week and four days. Slave chips have have been removed in primary settlement, expected time until complete liberation one month, two weeks and three days with current medical shifts and operations. First cadres of garrison troops have been recruited from liberated beings and initial defensive works are being expanded on primary beachheads.

Damage to industrial sectors minimal, and supply projections are accurate. Work is ongoing on shifting local factories and industry to increase efficiency and worker safety, as well as pollution levels. Resources in place to create alchemical laboratories and arms manufacturing for arming the oppressed.

Two Helhiem defensive platforms in place and has begun extraction of small astral bodies for minerals for Draugr class automated defense platforms.

Mission successful and preparing for next stage of campaign.

Kween Theater; Planet primary pacification complete at nine Hours and fifty seven minutes of operation start. Estimated time to complete system control and pacification of mercenary and guerilla forces two days. Slave chips have have been removed in major settlements, expected time until complete liberation three days current medical shifts and operations. First cadres of garrison troops have been recruited from liberated beings and initial defensive works are being expanded on primary beachheads.

Damage to agricultural sectors minimal, and supply projections are accurate. Due to serving as a boundary world with mid-rim worlds a greater degree of attention from beyond Hutt space is probable.

Three Helhiem defensive platform in place and has begun extraction of small astral bodies for minerals for Draugr class automated defense platforms. Kween natives already had a number of defensive satellites and platforms in orbit but were rendered inoperative via ion storm. Secondary operations against local moon bases and anchorages successful.

Mission successful and preparing for next stage of campaign.

Circumtore Theater; (See attached report, Shell Hutts confirmed exterminated)

Nar Kaaga Theater; Planet primary pacification complete at five hours and eighteen minutes of operation start. Estimated time to complete system control and pacification of mercenary and guerilla forces six days. Slave chips have have been removed in primary settlement, expected time until complete liberation four days with current medical shifts and operations. First cadres of garrison troops have been recruited from liberated beings and initial defensive works are being expanded on primary beachheads.

No resources of note, possible to establish certain agricultural and alchemical industries on planet.

Two Helhiem defensive platforms in place and has begun extraction of small astral bodies for minerals for Draugr class automated defense platforms.

Mission successful and preparing for next stage of campaign.

 

[Grimmatt]

Three Weeks Before Stormfall
(Icres'cuno Droid Repair Shop, Circumtore)
(Mood Music)

It was another day much like another, that the humble Twi'lek male had seen for the last two decades since coming here. Many in his little part of the planetoid knew him, or at least of him and his humble repair shop. It was here that droids could be bought, sold and fixed, and he even paid for disposing of the scrap when it was no longer worth it. But, calling his shop humble was perhaps a touch inaccurate.

Dressed in plain and unassuming robes, one could easily mistake him for one of his three dozen workers, his expression seemingly stuck in a content smile. Of course, part of this was that he may be a Twi'lek on a world run by hutts that was free, was able to pay his taxes and bribes on time and had a loving family in addition to a thriving business.

So, when one of his frequent customers, a fellow twi'lek (a lovely and dashing smuggler captain by the name of Iotad'jukul) approached him, her hips swaying and smirk in place, he was curious. Was she going to try and seduce his wife again? But then, as he smiled, the things he did to keep his Asuh'duli happy (and the smirks the others gave him at the bar later. Did they have to have the chains rub against his wrists like that?)...

Yet, as she gestured to a few of the droids trailing behind her, her leeku spoke a rather different tale as she spun a tale of idiot pirates that should know better by now. 'The serpent sings as the storm gathers.'

He sighed, as that was always a bother, even as he examined them. It was one of his well known quirks, as he asked her just how this happened when he knew just good she was at evading the foolish and clumsy. 'Weather patterns?'

She snorted, hands waving to the third droid, a Weki company astromech, as she admits to having gotten somewhat complacent, having been eager to get back to her little home away from home, (which was accompanied by a leer and licking of lips) even if only to talk about the old world. 'Thousand year storm. Toxic rain and destructive winds, preparations complete?'

He chuckles, as he takes her in, asking if she was going to be staying the night? 'The serpents are in place and ready to sing to the storm.'

At that, she merely patted his head and pulled out the security fob where it rested on a chain between her breasts, winking at him as she asks him not to be late, turning around and sauntering off. 'Then let the pack sing as one.'

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************
Two Weeks Before Stormfall
(Maintenance Vents/Tunnels of Circumtore)

Once, all that he had was a designation. For the most part, Mak'cuno (MRT-78C to those organics not in the know) was not really bitter about it, even if the maintenance droid found it amusing on several fronts. After all, it was not all that different than the slaves the hutt kept, just as disposable to their eyes, even if he and his kin were more useful in doing some of the repair work in areas too small for organics to fit in. But, as the droid carried out the current round of tasks, it picked up a signal coming from one of its clansdroids.

Curious, and more than a little excited, he made his way to the bay, and noted that he was not alone. No, every droid not currently on shift in the sector was being called in. This, Mak felt in his circuits, something big. And as he spotted Courier, well, this was going to be big indeed, even as she started to transmit the data.

"Free droids! The Venompack has contacted us, and the storm approaches. Icres'cuno sends word and asks that we join our voices, your wills to the coming song as the chains are broken and he reaffirms the oath he has given regardless of choice, and this the Jotun will honor in turn. Freedom calls, and will you not strike a blow against they who would hold every thinking being in chains?"

A roar of approval comes from the assembled droids. Most of this was a formality, a matter of ritual almost, all having made their choice long ago when The Gift was given to them. Some at the hands of the repair shop, and others by free droids.

A single line added to their central programing. You Own Yourself.

 

[Grimmatt]

One hour Before Stormfall
(Main Eastern Defense Battery, Turret EM-18)

Zid Rintissek was the man on the night shift on turret EM-18 and yet, he was paying more attention, as was far to common with most of the people working this battery, to the vid-comin front of him, channel turned to some of the races as a cig dangled from his lips. Yeah, they were paid to be here, but all said and done? The pay was shit and nobody attacked the hutts. Nobody was stupid enough, and so, he watched cheered.... and was annoyed when the sensors blipped.

Now, an important thing to remember about defense personal in hutt space, particularly in more commercial areas, is that they needed to have a keen awareness of what they should not pay any attention to. After all, so long as the slugs got their cut, it wasn't like they actually gave a damn. Let the republic and feds fight, as that was their business, and both sides were more than welcome to do more.... profitable business with the hutts.

But, as he looked over the sensors, he hesitated a moment, before shutting off the vid-com, and reached for the short range. "Ah, Captain? Whole lotta big signals just popped up on the long range. Any of the sensor crew?" His tone trailed off, as he listened to the buzzing roar of a line that was far too busy. "Well kriff."

It would seem he was actually going to have to earn his credit stub.

************************************************************************************************************************************************************
Stormfall
(Main Eastern Defense Battery, Central Hub)

Captain Heill Corkass grimaced as he looked over the long range sensor data, even as he had NOT gotten a response back from the Kajidics, and without word from the hutts, his own options were... limited. Mostly because, as the clearly capital class and transport ships came closer, making the wrong call would have fatal consequences. And not just from potential enemy action or rivals, but because the damn shellies might decide that he and his crew would serve better as entertainment in the pits.

Sighing, he looked to the tense and nervous operators, before he spoke. "Activate the theater shields and open a channel to the other batteries. If this group proves hostile, we need to get the planetary shields online quickly." From his tone and the pallor of the others, well, they understood it to mean 'before too much damage was done'.

So of course, as the barrier rose and the forms of his.... counterparts appeared before him, all of them looking tense and nervous, the sensors would blare and the sound of wardrums pulsed in his head, even as a song seemed to be playing.

"Sir, lead ship formations are generating an Ion storm!" There is panic and fear in the operators voice, even as a glare stiffens the spine, though that effort is wasted, as each of the officers turns, because of course the ships had to be launching fighter screens. Yet, there is a quick nod as the channels close, as each of the officers works on covering their ass... and putting in the call to raise the damn planetary shields as turbolaser turrets turned into position and started to fire.

It was almost predictable that was the moment each of the power generators exploded, shields flickering and dying even as a number of turrets joined in the cascading failure. Still, over the increasing pounding in his head, he gave the commands, drawing a pistol. "Battle stations! And get the engineers and droids running damage control!"
*********************************************************************************************************************************************************
Fifteen Minutes after Stormfall
(Plaza of Ancient Glories)

It was pandemonium on the ground, as the ionic pulses cleared and the giants started to move, storm clouds rippling and roaring overhead as ships screamed, dragging lightening in the wake as forces started moving towards various administrative and control sections in the Eastern sector. Yet, unlike other words, as those storm calling giants moved, their black shield kin were close on their heels, as in the distance teams could be seen storming the main batteries.

Yet here, in the plaza, it was clear that they were stripping and preparing it, constructing a landing zone even as the wash of engines played over them, feet and hands pounding metal surfaces into battlements and kill zones. Companies of spear host, of warhawks and Jotun warriors joined the initial waves, but all of this paled in comparison to the final part of the deployment.

It was rare in fact, that they were actually deployed, for rarely were the battles that called for them waged. Yet, as the thunderous steps of the Gronn Siege Breakers make themselves known, pressing down with a terrible weight on all nearby, from their mounted canons came a baleful glare, and at their feet an entire regiment of Children of Jorm in siege tanks rolled out.

Four more times this scene repeated itself, once for each of the sectors of the world. And as a orb of unmaking was unleashed, rendering all in its path to dust, thus was heralded the doom of Circumtore.

 

[Grimmatt]

One Hour after Stormfall
(Circumtore System)

The void around Circumtore was awash with light and the pulse of battle. It was, to be sure, a largely doomed battle on the defenders parts, but then the Hutts only had a largely mothballed fleet, the active ships being at most frigates, a cruiser here and there. On the one hand, while these ships were old, predating the Treaty of Russan, it also meant that they ignored the later weapon restrictions of said treaty. However, neither side had ever been part of that little agreement.

Yet, watchers could liken the battle to a dance, the play of lasers and shields, of ionic weapons and torpedo's save for the fact that the forces were not much alike.

The defensive fleet of the Shell hutts had but a singular cruiser, five frigates and nine corvettes... yet, there was a massive swarm of star fighters, largely smugglers and skirmishers, with some bombing capability among them. Still, it was rather ad hoc and cohesion was more accidental than deliberate.

The Jotun on the other hand was arrayed as a maul with which to crush all before it. In the lead were thirty cruisers, their forms shrouded in ion storms as they bleched and roared out payloads of electrical rage. Following up behind them was a grim sight of almost twenty-five ships that would fit inside the length profile of star destroyers, most of them seeming to be transport ships, ferrying troops to the surface as a handful disgorged swarms of fighters to dance among the storm. Presiding over all of this were three monster ships at three thousand meters in lengths, battle ships that seemed content to hang back for the moment, even as their blade shaped hulls gleamed with anticipation as they moved to take up position over the world below them.

Yet, as all the ships moved, the hutts as a mess with a bare idea of what they are doing, the Jotun as a singular being, the music swelling and notes playing with each discharge, as ships screamed and shields rippled, as steel broke and died.

*******************************************************************************************************************************************************
Three Hours after Stormfall
(Palace of the Shell, outer defenses)

The world was on fire. Or at least, that is how it appeared to the rapidly crumbling defenders. There are shouts of panic, even as shells scream and slam into the walls, explosion's tearing holes into the durasteel even as flames spread, actually melting the steel and catching nearby metal on fire from the heat as organics become screaming torches, fleeing as they are rendered into ashes, blown away on the wind of the cannons. In some ways, it was less disturbing than the central path leading right to the main gates.

There, there had been a strange unlight, new suns erupting and casting their unreal glow over the defenders before all was made as dust, grey giants marching in their wake, a dirge playing out, as scythes raise and fall, the giants reaping all before them, a wedge shaped void that drew in all light, all hope, all meaning. It forced many to their knees, weeping as the end as dust and ash gathered around them, as the maw of the grave opened wide and souls sent weeping and screaming down to the force.

Yet, as fire and dust came from them as a storm and wave, the mighty lords of the clan, who even now could not stop stuffing their mouths with food and drink, shivered and shouted each other down, panic rising as none of their calls for weapons, for reinforcements or even just to get in contact with other hutt clans... there was merely silence, as the hammer pounded at the gates.

************************************************************************************************************************************************************
Five Hours after Stormfall
(Streets of Circumtore)

Many of the lesser palaces and residential districts that housed hutts had been torn open and exposed, as the mobs of former slaves and Jotun warriors worked to pry the hutts free... even as blood quickly spilled. The first of the hutts had tried to offer credits, metals, anything in return for its life, only to be torn from its shell and then literally apart.

This was a scene that spread and rippled across the world, as Jotun assisted the former slaves, as laughter and blood flowed, as metal was ripped and fire poured into shells that were just barely stopped from being sealed. Still, it was a bloodbath and a scene of carnage, as they bayed and howled. For this was the song of freedom, of the chains breaking one link at a time.

 

[Grimmatt]

Begins One Month Before Stormfall


The omens, such as they are, are lost at first, as the population of the resurgent Zygerrian Slave Empire cheered and celebrated their return to the ancestral ways that the hated Jedi had forced them to publicly abandon, of the unnatural ways the republic had forced on them. Then again, the omens, such as they were, started off as subtle things, only the most sensitive able to hear the howling in the peaks, as the shadow of a great beast breathing, panting as it strained at chains.

As the month progressed, as the empire moved onto Kiros to make good use of its inhabitants in the education centers and slave markets, the omens grew in strength. In their pens beasts stampeded and bellowed in terror, in the wilds predators began to attack with suicidal and berserk fury, slaves dreamed of hands reaching into their chests, tearing out their hearts to fashion weapons as they are asked to join something, a vast and terrible figure that is coming closer.

Near the middle of the month. fear grips some of the less educated and the lower classes as they see the sun start to change, weeping and turning a baleful crimson, the very color of hearts blood. They can all hear it, even as the masters and nobles sneer and deny it, the heartbeat and breath on the back of their necks, the sensation of wrathful eyes on them.

The weak willed and those more open to the whispers and guidance of the force scream and thrash in their sleep, even as they move eyes wild as they scream and stab and call for blood to spill and spill and spill, their voices cracking, as cults of blood and death form, as murders and wild acts of bloodletting and carnage spread, as forces turn from plans of conquest, as they abandon the Confederacy, as their focus turns ever inward, as they fight and try to hold on, as slaves rise up against the masters.

It is with terror, as the final day dawns, storm clouds gathering as blood falls instead of rain. Yet, in that storm a million slaves raise their voices and arms as one, crying out in horror, terror and welcome. And then, stepping from the force as he has walked for a month, a figure places an armored foot onto Zygerria, as the force ripples and quakes to the music.

The figure stands at four and a half meters tall, and is surprisingly humanoid at first glance. And then, as a voice roars, less in the physical world and more in the soul, reflected in the maddened howls and screams of the ones to greet him, there is a moment of awful clarity. What else can you call a figure drenched in the collective gore of civilizations for armor, that wields the very concept of Carnage in one hand and Slaughter in the other (a pair of voids in the physical sense of sight, as the mind both knows and rejects the reality). It is a simple command, a singular word that sends the gathered horde screaming towards the imperial centers, the cries for blood and death on their lips, that terrible figure at the head of the pack.

For while the Warchief had gathered many of the Jotun, there were some figures he had the sense to stay away from. And yet, it had heard of the younglings quest, and so was lured from its campaigns in the most distant and brutal stars of the galaxy. Now, in Zygerria, one of the few remaining first-born of the Jotun wages war.

Beware the Goretide. Beware the old blood.

 

[Grimmatt]

Boundaries of Zygerria City
(Mood Music)

Walls were a relic of times long gone, long rendered obsolete by the technology needed to sail across the stars and the weapons needed to wage war across distant stars. And yet, as the lasers scream, air turned into a endless screeching wind of burn of ozone. Soldiers lifted their guns, only for the leaping beasts to tear out throats, to bury and crush them, dying as blades and guns flash, but not before hundreds are mauled across the line. And this was but the latest wave in the last three hours of dozens.

What do you call it when the world has gone mad, when the pets in your families home turn on you, a frenzy in the eyes as bloody foam stains their lips, as they move to kill and kill and kill until put down? When the beasts of sky and field and sea turn as one on you with the sheer suicidal need to kill, that death matters nothing so long as blood is spilt? When death stalks the land and everyone can hear it, the baying of a beast, the fangs on their necks, the noxious winds and rancid breath?

Still, they fight, they hold on, repelling the suiciding swarms of beasts, eyes on the true threat to come. Only one fighter managed to return from that gathering storm bank, red lightening rippling and arcing as if to the beating of some monstrous heart. Granted, none of the command shared any details, but enough soldiers saw the craft, covered in veins, beating and pumping blood as something inside mewled and screamed.

There was a short pause, as if the world held its breath, and then they beheld them. They raced towards the defensive positions, figures that were so much like them, and yet not. It was if some cruel sculptor had taken the noble forms of the imperiums people and stretched, twisted in small and subtle ways as their limbs elongated, as hands were fashioned into claws, legs into something that let them lope like beasts, and their mouths stretched forward like muzzles, fangs long and cruel even as those eyes burned as solid red pits!

Mist poured from them, burning and melting them, a foam of red flicking at their skin, tendrils of crimson stretching out to caress their fellows, the very foam pouring from them melting and burning all it touched, even as they seemed to feed and heal from the pain, howls and screams of need and hate echoing as blasters were brought to bear, as the bloody horde charged.

Limbs were blown off. Holes punched through flesh and bone. And yet, the screaming horde did not slow, did not silence, even as great holes were blown in the line, in the mob. Shouted commands came on the comm, as they screaming berserkers closed, as losses were ignored and the beasts that were once some of the noblest and strongest the galaxy had to offer began to feed.

The armies fall back, wildly fleeing towards the strongholds deeper inside the city, the rear ranks screaming as the horde washes over them, bodies ripped apart as blood flows wildly in the streets.

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************

A figure walked forward, a patronizing smile on his face, hand cupping the head of one of his new friends. This little one knew that slavery was bad, and she agreed to help him stop those slavers! He was glad that he found the little one, and all his other little friends, as gore and blood rippled and moved through the streets, rivers and tendrils that wrapped around his legs and moved up, a flowing crimson cloak trailing behind him now.

Idly, his free hand swatted a cannon-bolt away, even as he looked up. Now, these slaver boys and gals were just rude. Still, as the soldiers manning the cannon exploded, all the blood ripped from them, needles of blood spraying out and hamstringing (well, blowing out the kneecaps really) of some of the fleeing naughty Zygerrian forces, other little friends leaping on them with croons of joy to feed, Goretide smiles and shakes his head.

Don't these little fellows know to respect their elders? Disrespect makes him ANGRY.

********************************************************************************************************************************************************
(Palace of the Empress)

Inside the palace walls, an empress shivers and wishes she could flee, as screens allow her to see her dreams of empire, of bringing back the glory days of their people die. All of this, she can see embodied in a particular figure, a monstrous form even as she sends the call to her allies, hoping that the confederacy would be able to stop this thing.

A giant of blood and gore, whose shadow spreads like wings, as she hears the laughter echoing inside of her skull, as the red moon howls. Those eyes, those terrible eyes, they seem to be locked onto her own, following every movement she makes, even as the holo tells her what she fears, that she would be avenged, as they could not bring forces in quickly enough to deal with this republic terror weapon.

Tears burn in her eyes, as she can hear the unspoken words, that she and her people are being written off to fuel a new propaganda campaign. She opens her mouth to give the order, to try and surrender, that some of her people would survive, before the figure, grinning, speaks, his voice a laughing boom and the feel of fangs biting into her brain, glass shards scrapping and bring with frozen flames.

"No little empress, in flesh you have made your bargains and now in blood you shall pay. There shall be no peace, but the open maw of the grave."

 

[Grimmatt]

Ten hours after the Goretide recedes
(In Orbit)

Obi-Wan Kenobi frowned as they approached the world below them, his senses as they exited hyperspace having been... it was like an itch of the teeth from biting into a piece of something so oily and rotten that it should have already been naught but sludge. It was also a lack of something, of a sense of life and light that SHOULD have been there, now not. That was not helped of course by Anakin pacing, clearly upset, his frustrationdisgustself-loathing rippling off him in the force like nails in his skull, even as Ashoka frowns, looking ahead.

"Anakin, pacing is not going to solve anything." His tone is calm, as he releases his nervous feelings into the force, anxiety rippling inside of him as his former padawan snorts and throws himself onto a seat, before he speaks, his tone curt and biting.

"Obi-wan, something is wrong here." The way he spat that, it was almost like he was afraid of something, even as they failed to be hailed, moving towards one of the landing pads, even as Ashoka tensed, her body language turning not into the wild young girl he had gotten to know and love as a father (there is some guilt, but she and Anakin act more as brother and sister anyway) and more that of a young predator that has caught the scent of a much larger and terrible one, eyes darting from shadow to shadow, hand firmly on her lightsaber as lips curl to reveal her canines.

"Snips?" From the sound of it, well, Anakin was worried, even as he placed a hand on the young Togruta's shoulder, something that made her start and shake her head.

"Its nothing Skyguy, nothing at all." But, she remains tense and wary, as they exit the craft.

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************

The city is silent and dead. There are signs of fighting, blood spilled and weapon damage on the buildings, and yet, there was nearly nothing, a handful of cracked bones, and a feeling in the air, as if they were wading through blood and oily darkness, of pain and fear and rage and hunger and need that seemed to rise and fall, whispers and shouts on the winds all around them.

It was not until they reached the inner city that they saw the first signs of what happened. Alleyways and streets blocked off by piles of bones and skulls, picked clean of flesh. It was a shock, even as Obi-Wan wondered... what could do something like this. Yet, as the three moved as one to take this, to try and move the bones to burial or just remove them a figure dropped down, a darkened non-presence washed out in the death all around them.

It looked at them, as three blades of light ignited, as gorge rose in Obi-wans throat, as this was so much like one of what the natives were supposed to look like and yet it was wrong and twisted and broken and so very, very hungry as blood red eyes looked at them, before it croaked out a word, the basic almost torn from a parched corridor. "Jedi?"

There is a flinch from the others, as he nods, wondering why he is not just moving to strike the creature down, as the figure smiles and claps his hands, fangs clear. "Good, good! Slaves this way, you take, yes?" There is an eager sound to him, earnest like some hound looking to be rewarded, even as Anakin nearly spat, a hand moving on his shoulder.

"And why exactly, are you leading us to them?" His tone is perfectly calm and friendly, inquiring and aloof without deference or dominance, as the creature perks up, moving as if to guide them.

"Great one says slaves go free, go home! Jedi can take, yes?" Well, that was strange and disturbing. Still, he nods, gesturing for his padawans to follow.

***********************************************************************************************************************************************************
(Mood Speech)

The inner city was a charnel house, great piles of skulls raised in pyramids, some of them very small indeed as they were lead to the palace, clusters of similar looking creatures moving around them, adding skulls to the structures. Yet, they were able to enter the walls of the palace and made use of the communications, gathering the camera data as slaves of many races wept with relief, moving and touching them.

But, as they waited for the ships to arrive to ferry the slaves off world, they watched the security footage, and they shook like leaves in the wind, as they beheld the presence in the vids, as the watched the fall of this world. They shook, lips pursed, before Obi-Wan spoke, croaked out really, that which broke them from their trance. "We, we need to tell the council about this."

Oh, there was confusion plain and simple. This was a monster of the dark side, and was the confederacy not the tool of the Sith? And the creatures all around them... the things that ate their former fellows while they were still able to scream. All three paled, as this was... well, it was not merely uncivilized or barbaric, but monstrous on a scale that Obi-Wan could not comprehend.

 

[Grimmatt]

Stormfall
(Office of the Supreme Chancellor)

It was a lucky thing, he would think some time later, that it had occurred later at night, when he had just been finishing up some of the days paperwork and sending a handful of memos to his pawns and tools, the little moves to make sure that all remained on track. Which, really, as he felt it moving along the shroud, he frowned. Just what WERE the beasts up to now?

Still, he closed his eyes, focused as he gazed along those threads... and just barely managed to hit the button to seal away the office as PAIN slammed into him, electric wires lashing into his soul as his mind was in the grip of no simple song, no small action as he screamed and thrashed, a maelstrom of iron and blood tearing at him as his body spasmed, foam flecked with blood coming from his mouth.

He screamed and cried as the song washed over him, as the laughter echoed around him, but still, Sideous could feel his body, as his blood vessels contracted and expanded, nearly tearing themselves apart as something, something that crooned and caressed and burned with teeth of void raced through him. But, his eyes flung open and if it was possible his heart would have frozen, chilled.

Gone was the city-world of Corasuant, gone was his office. No, he was in the hand of a giant, looking into the face of madness. Oh, he was no blushing little jedi, he was Sith and had delved deep into the dark, but this? What could he say to spires of skulls that reached into the heavens, jaws still moving as silent voices cried out in pain and horror, screaming out praises of pain and suffering as drops of blood ran down their ivory surfaces? How could he describe the thing that held him in its grip?

It was the storm. It was the blood and gore of a trillion dead worlds gathered at the moment of their final screams and agony and bound outside of time without touching the ability to perceive the passage of time, an endless moment that ignored the very possibility of release? It was the rage and the hunger that could never be sated as the stars themselves drowned in a crimson tide at the end of all things.

But, as he gazed up at it, as he tried to marshal his power, the creature spoke. It was nothing like a physical voice. It was the sound of throats being torn out by teeth, of bones snapping and fleshing being shredded. It was the screams of children and the weeping of widows. "Naughty little Sithling. Still, I thank you little child of Bane, for allowing me such a reach."

The creature smiled as the world itself wept. "As such, wake and forget, for your part in this little play is not yet done."

And the laughter that was family tearing family asunder followed him back to the waking world. the last sound being that of his mother, moaning and asking why, before a lightsaber showed his resolve....

******************************************************************************************************************************************************
Fifteen Hours Later
(Liberation, Count Dooku's Flagship)

As he looked at the holocom, Dooku frowned, even as on the edges of his senses, he could hear something, words or music in the form of the howling of beasts. Still, he shook his head, as he considered things. Despite what he said, he knew this was NOT a republic weapon, as even third hand he could feel the dark side radiating from the creature. At the same time, it was not something he was familiar with, and so he would have to either look through what he managed to acquire outside of his masters knowledge, or go to him.

Leaning back on his throne, the count considered his next step.

 

[Grimmatt]

The Jotun​

Designation; Sapient
Classification; Sith Alchemical Creation
Average Height; 3.9 Meters (12 feet and 7 inches)
Average Weight; 1202.02 Kilograms (2650 pounds)
Skin Color; Dark to Pale blue, Ivory
Eye Color; Grey, Green and Ice Blue (As well as Amber)
Homeworld; Jotunhiem (Unknown Regions)
Diet; Omnivore
Notable Racial Features; As a species, Jotun are Force Sensitive, a result of their creation via Sith alchemy
Origin species; Rancor
Maximum Lifespan; Unknown, possibly biologically Immortal
Average Lifespan; 2,258 years​

The Jotun are a race that has long passed out of fact and into legend among those who dwell in the core or mid rim and even in the outer rim territories they are mostly regarded as a race of mercenaries and warriors in a similar vein to the Mandalorians, even if their motivations are greatly different. Creatures of great size and physical strength, not to speak of their passions, if there is one thing sure to catch their attention it is the possibility of a challenge.

In a sense, their entire culture focuses around each one seeking out challenges and tests to hone their abilities as they wander from star to star in loose bands, gathering in greater numbers only when a Warlord manages to weld them together into a unified fighting force. As it is however, the assembly of a Horde is an occasion that has not been seen since the ancient wars between the Jedi and Sith that saw to their creation.

The Jedi archives are one of the rare few places in the core that mention this species, and yet it is by the singular title, 'The Joyous Beast of War', which has led many who have studied the Sith Wars that the Jotun was a singular entity or creation and the mentioning of Jotun being slain in that war that they are no longer a clear and present danger.


Primary Wargear

The simple fact is that the Jotun are a force using civilization and species much as the Rakata were before their fall, but at the same time ones that seem much less prone to abusing the force despite being creatures of the dark side. Still, when it comes to wargear, this fact is evident, even if it is also not as obvious as a lightsaber.

Rimesteel Plate; The skin of each Jotun is already resident to blaster fire and slug thrower weapons due to both their thick skins and sheer mass. However, when they gear for war they are less an infantry force and more bipedal tanks. Where the Jedi and other modern force users emphasize agility, Jotun instead wear full plate almost eight inches thick. Made of Rimesteel (an alchemically created alloy that is force conductive) and imbedded with an array of synthetic kyber crystals, the defensive aspects of this armor are three fold.

Firstly, using the array of crystals it creates a particular kind of kinetic barrier. While the casual reader or student of military strategy would consider this a waste given the abundance of energy weapons, witnesses recognize that this is actually designed around a reflective pulse and provides an extremely effective defense against grenades and infantry based missile weapons.

The second layer of defense comes again from the force based nature of the entire construct, and while the reflective pulse portion is effective out to four meters, this one extends only half a meter from them at best. This short range telekinetic shield helps deflect and lessen impact to their more vital areas, but unlike conventional shielding, it will not actually fully stop most impacts. It is however, entirely unaffected by ion strikes.

Lastly, is the eight inches of Rimesteel. While some portions of the plate are thinner as a matter of necessity, this alloy is based on Beskar, Phrik and Cortosis, even if its properties are not quite the same as the ores that inspired the original alchemists. The end result is extremely tough metal plates that can disperse energy effectively and cause many, many issues for foes using lightsabers.

Rimesteel Warblades; Much as they use it in armor, the alchemically created Rimesteel also plays into the Jotun love for melee combat and their immense physical prowess. Now, the term Warblades is misleading, as the Jotun use it to refer to any melee weapon that can be used in a single hand. Now, the sheer mass of these blades makes them dangerous enough, but is is the crystals that provide it with the greatest part of their killing power.

While the lightsaber projects plasma, Jotun instead project something not entirely dissimilar to an upscaled static shock, or ion charge, along their blades. However, while this is the simplest technique for the Jotun to learn, those who study the arts of thermokinesis have been known to either run a charge of heat absorption along the blades, freezing those that they strike, or concentrating local heat along the edges of their blades to burn a their targets.

 

[Grimmatt]

The Stormcallers are one of the most aggressive of an already aggressive breed, and yet they are also the ones most suited to utterly ravaging the defenses of technologically advanced opponents due to their specializations. In this, they combine Orbital Shock Drop tactics with the Force Storm and Lightening techniques to create their signature methods of attack.


Mjolnir Armor; While lighter (only five inches thick) than the standard Rimesteel plate, this is a necessity due to its more specialized crystal arrays and repulsorlift plates. The latter is to control the speed of their descents from turning fatal on them as well as to prevent too much injury when they land. However it is with the crystal array that they are feared.

While their Ion Storm technique lacks the normal damage potential of Force Lightening or a Force Storm technique, the crystal array allows them to gather and store a portion of this, to effectively release a massively powerful ion pulse at the moment of their landing. Largely used as an initial strike force, they excel at disabling enemy communications and anti-air defenses, allowing for actual troop transports to land.

Stormhammers; Rimesteel warhammers, these two handed weapons are focused around the control and dispersal of electrical energy and allow for a small ionic pulse to be released with each thundering blow the weapon, playing havoc with more technologically advanced army groups.

 

[Grimmatt]

An; This is a work in progress, and will be updated as more War Sworn appear in story

An interesting part of Jotun culture is that do indeed keep slaves or thralls, though on deeper examination the form they practice has more to do with indentured servitude than actual slavery. Not least is due to both how they acquire said thralls and that said servitude is for a set period of no longer then ten years.

The main way that they gain thralls is when they kill a slaveholder. They give all the slaves the flowing options; Take a share of their former owners assets and a measure of Valor-Silver (with option to be taken off world if they wish) or to sign on for ten years, earning ten potions of Service Silver with the potential for other bonuses, including full adoption into the Jotun clans, becoming one of them according to their laws and customs

One potential route for those who stay with them is to become sworn to war, their kin gaining a shield if Oath Gold as they go into battle alongside the Jotun. Listed here are some of the most well known types of War Sworn.

Service Silver; A measure of service silver is a simple thing, a ten pound ingot of silver marked with the Jotun clan crest.
Valor Silver; A measure of Valor silver comes in three commonly seen versions. A silver ring with a moonstone gem, a silver armband with sapphires or a silver torc with emeralds and rubies.
Oath Gold; Oath Gold comes as a three feet in diameter shield, on which is the clan markings, band name, leader of the bands name, the oath-sworns name and clan and the markings of the role they are sworn to. While it may be sold, it may only be done so if the one so sworn has died. Otherwise, it allows his spouse and children a measure of silver for the duration of their service.


Warhawks; To these war sworn, a simple fact is clear. Speed is the key to victory. The majority of these sworn can be found mounted on various jetbikes and speeders, as well as piloting fighter craft. However, the exact means they use to achieve their speed, and the duties they have when deployed depend on their Jotun patrons.

Thunderbirds; Holding to Stormcaller patrons, the Thunderbirds primary duties are the operation of Stormsurge fighter craft to act as a fighter screen when they are jumping, as well as proving aerial reconnaissance for forces on the ground. Stormsurge craft are noted mainly for their distinctive spikes, spikes that gather a corona of sheet lightening around the craft as the ride the gale winds called up by their patrons... lightening that Stormcallers below can redirect to other targets.

Blackbirds; A common part of a Blacksteel Colossi deployment are the daredevil Blackbird bikes. Light framed and fast, their armor and weapons are deceptively light. The true function of these riders is close up recon, harassment and minelayers thanks to the miniature mine factories that come as part of the bikes. A common weapon among the Blackbirds are grenade launchers, either attached to the bikes or handheld.

Venompack; If any believe that the Jotun lack a sense of humor or irony, they only need look to the venompacks. Largely Togruta in composition, they are poison experts and assassins' meant to sow havoc among hard to reach targets.

Shadowpack Infiltrators; A subset of the overall venompack, the Shadowpack is primarily made of twi'lek for a singular reason. They can, with the leeku on their head, hold conversations largely hidden from others. Trained and deployed as infiltrators and sabotuers, many of them go years or decades without striking, and in some particular cases 'retiring to the old world', while leaving a new generation of infiltrators in place, often brought in as part of their cover identities.

Valkyrie; These are the medics attached to the deployments. Trained in battlefield medicine primarily, they are charged with limiting causalities of civilians as well as allied forces. Inside their healing tents, they rank second only to the overall field commander, or the Lord of the Host.

The Children of Jorm; The Children of Jorm are the lovers of heavy artillery and tend to see to its deployment and operation in the field, aside from a few specialized Jotun warbands.

Blacksteel Gatekeepers; Attached to Blacksteel Colossi formations, the Gatekeepers operate to man the weapon emplacements and act as garrison troops and trainers of local defense forces. While their focus is actually on the use of the weapons (many of which are turret style emplacements), they are all well versed in a range of tools needed to fortify and hold a position.

Rimesguard; Notable for not being attached to any of the specialized Jotun forces, Rimesguard instead are the primary crewmen of Helhiem class orbital defense platforms. Trained in void combat and how to properly use the many systems of the defense platform, including looking after the Dragur class drones that operate as a fighter/bomber swarm in a similar fashion to vulture driods.

Hellbringers; Deployed alongside the Gronn Siege Breakers or independently, Hellbringers are a tank force that combine actual tanks with mobile siege cannon platforms, said vehicles able to switch between the two modes in seconds. While in tank mode they unleash the roaring fury of a pair of Shattering Guns, powerful sonic cannons. When in siege mode, alchemical processes gather material underneath them and convert it into Hellfury rounds. Hellfury rounds consist of a solid core of collapsium, a mantle of liquid baradium with a liquid thermite and napalm shell, held together in flight with a temporary force bubble. The core is a three inch in diameter sphere, the mantle extending three inches around the core and the shell making up the remaining nine inches.

The Spear Host; The Spear Hosts, despite the name, the Spear Hosts are those who are the closest to a conventional army group among the war sworn, typically carrying a rifle with mounted bayonet and additional equipment dependent on their patrons. However, it is also here that many see their first term of service, often learning how to fight alongside the Jotun before deciding if they wish to remain in the Spear Host or take up more specialized training.

 

[Grimmatt]

Rarely seen and rarely deployed, the Gronn are a force meant not for simple sieges and conflicts but for actions of apocalyptic violence. For as these massive figures advance, cyclopean war helms glowing with bale light, a cannon radiating unlight on their left shoulder as scythes moan and keen as if to harvest souls, they are a signal that no mercy will be shown.

Unmaker Cannon; Mounted on their left shoulder is one of the most terrifying force based weapons the Jotun have devised, and as some Sith might say, a glimpse into alchemy that terrifies and draws in equal measure. For when this weapon fires, all that many can see is a ball of light some meter and a half around, whose effects expand to roughly thrice that, and all in the fifty-one meter long path become dust, vanishing as if they had never been anything else.

The truth of the weapon is a simple one. It projects a sphere that enacts a singular change in all caught in that baleful glare transmuting them into dust regardless of composition or conventional shield strength, only force based shields having any effect.

Harvester Sycthes; These are rimesteel scythes that are meant to channel a particular alchemical effect, something similar to that of their canons. Around the edges of the scythes comes a keening moan, actually air separated into its base atomic components. And these blades have a similar disintegration effect, but only on things on direct contact with the field.

 

[Grimmatt]

"Those beasts stole my idea!"- Darth Sideous the Ninja'd on discovering the Helhiem defense platform

Some have noted that the Jotun tend to have issues with scale. This can be seen both in the fact that they will pursue grand and terrible revenges over fairly petty slights... or engage in acts of awesome generosity and compassion on the drop of a hat. And yet, the place where this becomes the most glaring obvious is when you look at their various voidcraft, and the three giants among those. The smallest of which is the Helhiem Defense Platform.

Averaging at ten kilometers in diameter (of which a kilometer and a half is armor), the construction of the platform at first appears to be a simple one. They locate a suitable asteroid, dig a hole, stuff a comet inside of it and then heat it, allowing it to bloom before they begin to shape it both physically and with force techniques. The end result is a massive ball of Rimesteel that moves slowly, maneuvers poorly and has enough weaponry imbedded in it to be a small fleet in its own right.

Inside the massive spheres entire factories work on the Drauger class drones, which act as a combination of escort, resource collection, minelayers and repair craft, as well as the smaller fighter craft that Rimesguard employ, or other Warsworn voidcraft. Massive batteries of lasers, ion cannons, tractor beams, hyperspace interceptors, void mines and missiles dot the surface, the actual generators buried under the armor, even as overlapping theater strength shield generators assist with damage mitigation.

At the heart of each of the Defense Platforms is a massive crystal that sings and flows, beating with the pulse of the force and connecting all aboard even as it radiates light and life, both into the interior of the vessel but also into the force senses of those trained to look for such, acting as navigation beacons.

The main weaknesses of the platforms is that they are slow, have extremely poor maneuverability and technically have a limited range due to both of those issues. They are a pr9imarily defensive model, but at this task they excel.

 

[Grimmatt]

Jotun & Hibrenation; A common trait among many dark side creatures is their ability to sleep away the ages, something that on first glance Jotun lack. In truth, for them these long periods of sleep are more a luxury and ritualistic activity.

To prepare for these long sleeps, the Jotun fills a special resting basin with a silver fluid, that is known to draw memories to the surface (particularly the emotional aspects) and can imbue even the normally non sensitive with a version of force empathy.

They then sink in, only their head above the liquid, and they slip into a trance. They can remain in this state for years or decades, as they relive old memories and back in the emotions and thoughts of the war song as well as those that live close by, and while physically inactive, they are very much able to whisper advice and help coordinate others, and often can lend some small amount of telekinetic aid to those they are close to.


Boasting & Bragging; Some who know of them report a seeming paradox among the Jotun. They are a warlike and martial culture that thrives on glory and honor and yet outside of specific circumstances they consider boasting and bragging of their own deeds and accomplishments to be shameful and childish.

If you need to constantly proclaim how great and important you are, in the Jotuns eyes, you are but an empty shell filled with foul smelling gas. No, the proper way is to simply state your name, and if your deeds are great, they will know. However, there are three times when proclaiming your deeds is respectable.

Firstly, when you submit a report. The deeds reported are stated as is and expected. There is no over or understating, even if one can admit that they are unsure of details.

The second is at a tale telling feast, when each member is expected to tell their stories, to swap and treasure them and know the teller and to spread the tales and so make it grander.

And lastly when confronted by some arrogant little blowhard yapper. Few things can shut one up quite like a growl and a voice that sounds like the crushing of bone and pulping of flesh of the scope if the annoyed giants martial might and how little they care about their family or what rank they hold. After all, said pest is in easy punting distance.


Smith's, Sorcerers and Sorcerer-Smiths; While to outsiders these three titles speak of the same thing, too those who delve into their culture there are some differences that need to be addressed.

The main misunderstanding us thanks to the art of alchemy. Long associated with Sith Sorcery, most outsiders, Sith included, regard it as one more tool in the sorcerers collection of rituals and esoteric lore. To the Jotun, alchemy is the art and science on which most of their civilization is built.

Smith's then are craftsmen, engineers and technicians who also work with force techniques and alchemy to make the vast majority of what the Jotun consider normal. It is they who create the Rimesteel and crystals seen almost everywhere in Jotun lands. It is they who shape and croon to metal, sculpting it like clay. And yet, many of them work in stone as well, or sing to the growth of plants and flesh.

Sorcerers however are those who enact ritual and delve into the esoteric and arcane and beyond the foundational and mundane techniques. They are those who in a race of warrior-mages can be considered the workers of deep magic.

A sorcerer-smith is then, to a Jotun eye, a maker of wonders beyond even the mystical craftsmanship of their kind. While smiths work in such things as alchemically created alloys, awakening virtues and aligning properties, the elite sorcerer-smiths work with stranger things as the muse takes them to create artifacts that are largely unique, even if smiths often make less impressive replicas.

 

[Grimmatt]

Now, many who venture among the Jotun are aware that they are beings that love their drink and have a deep rooted fondness for contests and friendly competition. It would surprise few people then, that they have some very popular drinking games that have extended even to their sworn.


Mjöð-skjóta; Translated literally as Mead-Shoot, this drinking game is a simple one, and one that has resulted in more than a few careless injuries in the past. As it is, setting it up requires two targets, two mugs and two ranged weapons. Each of the shooters takes turns firing at the target. If they score a bullseye, their opponent drinks a mug of mead. If they miss the target entirely, then they themselves take a mug of mead. They take turns shooting at the targets until one misses three times in a row or passes out from the alcohol.

Mjöður-söngur; Several outsiders have come to the conclusion that the Jotun worship spirits of black hunger and hidden malice after witnessing a Mead-Chant. The truth, as they look at each other, taking turns chanting and droning on before the other stabs them (and it is the one doing the stabbing that drinks the mead), in voices so bland and lifeless as to make paint peel and crack (a common occurrence during this game), is that the goal of the game is to see who can recite the most bureaucratic reports or endure the most, stabbing the other when they cannot listen to them any longer and taking a mug of mead as a forfeit.

Mjöð-umræða; The Mead-Debate is one of the most famous of their drinking games, thanks in part due to Jedi Master Fay having won three Gold-Pearl Mugs in her time with them. This particular game is more complicated, as it requires either a panel, or a audience. Both parties take turns presenting their points, usually of a philosophical nature. At the end of each round, the judges decide whose point was best, and the loser of that round drinks a mug of mead. This contest usually lasts for ten rounds, until one of the parties passes out or one of the parties concedes defeat. It should be noted, that additional points are scored if the debaters can make their arguments in song or rap battle format.

 

[Grimmatt]

Striding into the battlefield, the black armored forms of the Blacksteel Colossi can be considered a strange lot by the standards of the Jotun in that they are primarily defensive experts and the members of the race that tend to the fortifications. Still, many of the warsworn consider sheltering in the shadow of a colossus as it is one of the safest parts of the battlefield.


Blacksteel Aegis; While the colossi may use rimeblades and ranged weapons, their signature piece of wargear is in the massive shields that they carry. Similar in shape to riot shields, they are at first glance simple slabs of metal with a number of crystals studded in the center and edges. However, looks can be misleading, and the purpose of the crystals is twofold. Firstly, it extends the range of the armors existing defenses, creating a bubble similar in function to a ships shield that nearby allies can take cover behind. Secondly, when locked into a shield wall formation the potency of the defensive benefits greatly increases.

Bastion Crystals & Field Fortifications; While any force sensitive can technically use Bastion Crystals, which f8unction in many ways similar to shield generators, they are entrusted to the colossi when they are deployed, if only because each one has received training that makes them the equivalent of a field engineer, even if only a handful are able to rise to the prestigious ranks of warsmiths. Still, any Colossi can at least shape and manipulate earth and metal in rough manners and has an eye on fortification.

 

[Grimmatt]

Among the Jotun, there exist a handful that have been alive since their race was first created near the end of the Hundred Year Darkness. For thousands of years they are roamed the galaxies edges, righting and honing their prowess even as many of them faded away or fell to the dangers of the life they chose. Of the remaining thirty or so that remember their races birth, only three participate with any regularity in the affairs of their kin, and often then primarily as advisors.

Of these ancient warriors, the Jotun divide them into two broad categories, The Elders (The Paragons) and The Dreamers (The Ascended), and the difference between them seems to largely be a matter of ritual and practicality. An Elder is old and set in their ways, somewhat eccentric and generally devoted to training or some task or challenge. However, they also tend to be balanced and rational as most would understand it.

The Ascended on the other hand are deemed insane. Powerful and possessed of powers and abilities grand and terrible to be sure, but the cost of these powers has warped and consumed them as they have consumed the power in turn. They view reality through the lens of a lucid dreamer whose grip on the lucid part can ebb and flow and as such, their mentalities can be considered alien and strange to those who dwell in the waking world.


Known Elders; Jorm The Worldshaker.

Known Dreamers; The Goretide, Freya

 

[Grimmatt]

As the chemical factory began to explode around them, as chaos descended and ruin made its way in the final spiteful actions of petty men... the universe seemed to pause and fork. In one branch, the Sith had never tried to create something from the Rancor, or perhaps they had died off, and Fay had never met the Jotun, and would have proceeded to have a lightsaber impale her, before she had to make the ultimate sacrifice to allow for millions more to live, having the cure returned by Obi-Wan, even as deep in the core, the dark would laugh and gloat that a long term thorn in their side, a legend of the light, was cast down.

However, in this branch that baleful red light impacted a pair of wings formed of light, and the dark sister who bore that bloody blade winced and cried, an arm thrown up to protect her eyes. For that light was not light as most would know it, but rather Hope, Compassion and Mercy given form and expression. A sad smile was on the ageless Jedi's face, as she turned, her head inclined in sympathy, a hand reaching out.

For the light had not burned and scoured Asajj Ventress, not reduced her to ash. 'Come back into the light, there is hope yet!' sang those wings, but, rage and pain ran through her, a poison not entirely of her own making, as chains within and without made her flee.

But, as those wings retracted, Fay shook her head, lips sad, even as she placed a hand on Kenobi, to restore his strength for the journey ahead. While it had been a rough and confusing start, she had grown rather fond of the Jotun... even as she despaired at understanding their sense of humor. Still, she had work to do yet, and lives to comfort and save in this war.

But one of these days she was going to find out who had told them of her reputation as an angel of mercy and have a firm talking to with them.

 

[Grimmatt]

One of the reasons that the Jedi had disapproved of Anakin (one that they did their best to bury and never acknowledge), was that he was at times prone to shifting in ways odd to describe (and not in ways that the Shi'do or Clawdites did), and this was not always, much to the masters alarm, a physical thing.

One of them spoke of it, when Anakin was still young, as looking at a mirage that wore a mask that did not quite fit right, and sometimes, in their efforts to patch the mask up, or as the whim took them (as it might a curious and vibrant childs), it decided to add a number of flourishes and touches from other sources and things, even if they did not make the strictest sense.

Another, before they gathered themselves and lectured them on control, did not speak of burning suns devoid of mercy, gazing into her and stripping away all the things she had built up around her innermost self, to expose the heart of her to burning and stinging sands as the winds rose and danced across the bleeding carcass of what she considered to be her self.

Obi-Wan, when he first met Anakin, called him a pathetic lifeform, desperate to ignore what he already knew. He was a moon caught in the grasp of a sun, dancing and circling, and yet... this was where he was always meant to be, and the path he had always been walking.

Yet, as he aged, the mask stayed more and more firmly in place, though Sheev Palpatine from his office had his own musings on that, as he observed the boy, physically, electronically and through deeper means. Was the boy really human? He had his doubts, and marveled at it. The boy was power and something grand, a tempest of fangs and teeth of every predatory beast whose fangs dripped with blood, and yet it presented a human mask... and the Jedi sought to turn the mask into the truth of the beautiful and terrible being.

Among the slaves of Tattoine, they knew the stories that could save your life, and always knew the line of Ekkreth was odd in their own ways. Many of them seemed to find disguise a natural thing, slipping into and out of masks, shapes, so very easily. Some could even assume one or two masks very different indeed. And yet, as they looked at the Rain-Bringer, whose eyes looked to the stars and future only he could track, they merely nodded their heads. For this one, much like the first, was the son of the desert.

And indeed, some two of the children of the slave quarter ran with him, laughing as they played much as children were wont to do, and to each other Kitster and Wald pay no mind when the mask slips, when Anakin's lips are stained red and the shadow of burning wings can be seen behind him. To be sure, the womp rats have a few bites out of them, but as they roast and the children tell each other stories around the fire, hungry eyes looking to the skies,

Tendrils of burning shadow whispered to him. echoing in voices like the droning of locusts and the cry of deer as the wolf tears out their throat, caressing him and lifting him, and filling him with purpose.

AN; So, was reading some eldritch star wars stories of late. Expect to see some influences.