A Horde in the Clone Wars (Star Wars AU)

[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.