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[{IRS}Athos]

Unbearably bright laser bursts shot across the deep darkness of space as a modified Astrum Vortex-class ship closed with a ship of space pirates. Starfighters cobbled together with parts from Confederate, Fonoss, and Rakbi ships closed with the few fighter pilots brave enough to venture out of the marauders' hangars, sending them tumbling through space in a wheel of flames. From far away, the battle seemed merely a fireworks display.

From high on the observation deck of the Vortex, Marshal Sythe watched in approval as one of her pilots did a wingover, narrowly avoiding a laser burst only to dive back in and blast the turret off of the face of the ship.

"I think they've had enough, Captain," she said carelessly to the Rakbi on her right. "Cease fire, and prepare the tractor beams for boarding."

"Awww, miss," he complained. "We signed on with you to destroy these scum, not make peace with them."

"Are you questioning my order?" Sythe asked coldly. The Rakbi flinched.

"Of course not. Only, tractor beams take up so much energy. What do you plan to do when--"

"You will be compensated for your efforts by remaining in control of this ship," Sythe said in a warning tone of voice. The Rakbi didn't seem to get the point.

"But miss--" He got no further. His fellow command crew gasped in horror as Sythe's sword sprouted from his chest. She beckoned to the first mate.

"Congratulations: you are now in control of this ship. See that you learn to follow orders better than your predecessor." The Rakbi nodded nervously, tripping over the body of the former captain as he lunged for the ship intercom.

"All turrets, cease fire. Prepare the tractor beams," his voice crackled over the speakers. Sythe nodded approvingly and made for the elevator. Perhaps he could make a future in the Order; the other one was just mercenary scum. She arrived in the hangar several seconds later, joining the other nine "war monks" who had remained aboard the ship; the other twenty were piloting their fighters. She reached for her comlink.

"All Order pilots are required to return to the main hangar for boarding," Sythe enunciated clearly. A chorus of "yes, miss" rose back to her. The enemy ship loomed closer, and finally she heard the grating noise of metal scraping against metal. "Prepare to board!" she shouted. "Rifles up!"

The other war monks reached for their laser rifles, forming three ranks. Sythe took up position on one side, waiting for the blast doors to unseal. As she heard their pneumatic hiss, she made a downward chopping motion with her sword. "FIRE!"

The pirates in the other ship, numerous as they were, stood no chance against the military experience and fervour of the Order. With five dead and thirteen wounded, they surrendered. Sythe forced the remaining score to kneel, pacing up and down their line as the other members of the Order stood watchfully by with their rifles primed.

"You have a choice of your own fate," said Sythe. "Either you convert to the Faith and are spared, or you refuse and die."

An Astrum at the end of the line rose defiantly. "Would you ask me to betray the Path of Stars? You yourself have gone astray!" As he continued his rant, Sythe waved derisively. Before the Astrum could turn around, one of the monks had thrust her sword through his chest.

"Does anyone else have any objections?" asked Sythe mildly. There was dead silence.

"Good," she said after a long pause. She turned on her heel and returned to the bridge. The newly-made captain was still standing numbly by the controls.

"If you wish to retain command of this ship, I suggest you join us," said Sythe silkily.

Edited by ithilienranger732, 01 May 2009 - 04:14 AM.

[Drakconus]

((OCC: few things wrong here; 1 I will over look how a Vortex came in to their possesion and 2 this isn't a star destroyer so the bridge isn't up high, its is located deep within the ship to protect it from attacks.

p.s. following the Path of Stars wouldn't prevent that Astrum from joining the Order, the Path is more like Bushido than Christanity in that you can have Buddhist Samurai and Christan Samurai.))

Edited by Drakconus, 30 April 2009 - 11:59 PM.

[{IRS}Athos]

((Hmmm... I'll change "bridge" to "observation deck". As for the Vortex, they obviously stole it. Also, I think it's reasonable to say that a couple Astrum would be totally uninformed about the Faith and refuse to convert, thinking that it would cancel out their own. After all, the Order is a recently emerging power, and the Faith hasn't been around long enough for its theology to be widely known.))

[{IRS}Athos]

"Forward, men! Charge!" Hyarill shouted through a choking lungful of smoke. The drought had not been good for the crops of the remote planet the Order was invading, and laser fire had set the already-dry grasslands afire. The natives, who had depended on the tall grass for cover, were fleeing wildly from the flames, leaving the Order to burn in the inferno they had created.

"Come on, men!" Hyarill urged the war monks on towards the bed of a river. Although it had run down to a mere trickle, the absence of reeds and other inflammable objects made it an ideal bunker for them. He reached the edge of the river and waved for them to follow. "Come on!" he yelled over the roaring of the flames.

Coughing, a quartet of the soldiers staggered out of the smoke, dragging a cannon between them. Another trio followed them, swords drawn, as a pair with rifles filled out the squad. More troops straggled in, bearing all the equipment they could salvage.

"Luckily, we still have our communications equipment, and the ships are still in orbit," remarked Hyarill. Now that the danger was past he was cheerful, shading his eyes against the firelight. "Looks like we've literally adopted the scorched land strategy." He chuckled.

"What about the natives, sir?" said one of his sergeants, switching off his sword and sheathing it across his back.

"They've been baptized by fire," said Hyarill. "We'd have killed them all nonetheless: the One will recognize his own."

[{IRS}Athos]

The doors of the Grand Palace opened with a hiss, and a nervous-looking Chalsidii war monk stepped inside. He flashed a pass to the monks on duty and was granted permission to pass. Moving ever higher through the twisting spiral passages of the Palace, he shivered spasmodically. Athatan was not known as eternally good-humoured, and the news that he bore was grave.

Flashing the pass again, the war monk entered an elevator. As he rode up to the top-floor observation deck where Athatan spent most of his time meditating, the monk grew even more nervous. The doors finally opened, and the monk stepped out of the elevator. Before him, framed against the dying light of the sun, stood Athatan, gazing across the planet's surface.

The monk cleared his throat, and Athatan turned. The younger Chalsidii, overawed, swallowed back a nervous squeak.

"What is it, Sir Xander? You may speak," said Athatan in a deep voice that was soft yet powerful.

"Grand Master... we recently received a transmission from the Spirit of Liberty." Athatan's face brightened.

"Ah, the pilgrims! Are they nearing the Grand Palace?" The other Chalsidii gulped.

"Actually, sir, they were..." A lump formed in his throat, and his voice trailed off.

"Yes?" said Athatan in a dangerously calm voice.

"They were... attacked by the Cythelu fleet." Athatan's eyes narrowed.

"And...?" Athatan's voice was icy, though his eyes were sad and resigned.

"None survived," babbled the Chalsidii monk in a rush. Athatan closed his eyes tightly, and though his iron control was maintained, the monk thought he'd seen a fleeting glimpse of a tear running down the Grand Master's cheek.

"This is an act of war," said Athatan finally. "Summon my council. We must determine our battle plans." The junior monk bowed and ran out as fast as he could, glad to be out of the range of Athatan's frighteningly stifled anger.