Beyond - Legends Hostile Forces (Force Heretic AU) [UPDATED!]

I'm actually from the MacDonald clan.

 

O-kay... I'm surrounded by Highlanders who hate the Campbells...

Interesting demographic...

- The Imperial Ewok

 

BWAH-HA!
How do you suppose you managed to pull that off, anyway? There aren't that many Scottsman around, ya know...

Anywho, are ya hard at work on the next update? I've just gotten my best friend hooked on Hostile Forces (it was the Royal Guardsman that did it), and I'm sure he'll inhale the story so far at a prolific rate.

 

Megabump.

 

Aye, I'm still here... slightly nervy about the next update... it includes a hand-to-hand combat scene which may provoke unintended laughter or snorts of contempt...

But as to Scotsmen - there's more o' us than ye realise...

- The Imperial Ewok

 

Ah, I ken what yer sayin'.

Just post that bad boy. Or if you're really edgy, you could email it to me and I'll tell you what I think.

Or you could just post it.

 

Well, interesting bit on them Chosen over there.
The Chosen up against a bunch of cloned Royal Guardsmen. A fight to remember for the millenia...
As for my middle Guardsman, I speculated Mareek Steele, impropable as it might sound.

 

He was a fighter pilot (and a bloody awesome one at that), not an Imperial Royal Guardsman. As I recall, he was made an Emporer's Hand, though...

 

Mega-er-bump.

 

Okay... I'm not entirely happy with this one, but it moves the story along

The two sides in the skirmish had called a tacit, temporary truce, the survivors pulling back warily to watch the Yuuzhan Vong commander duel with the Imperial Royal Guardsman. And in his hiding-place, Nom Anor was smiling.

The two warriors circled each other slowly, feinting and fencing, gauging each other?s strengths and weaknesses. Kang Hun was the more aggressive of the pair, punctuating his drill with taunts and catcalls, his armour rippling with life as he flexed his muscles. The Royal Guard was calm and silent, fighting with a sparse, elegant efficiency that was the polar opposite of the normal Yuuzhan Vong duelling style. But in spite of the contrast, they seemed evenly matched ? Yuuzhan Vong and infidel, Imperial and invader, crimson vonduun-crab and scarlet plasteel.

And Nom Anor already knew exactly what was going to happen.

Kang Hun thrust low and fast for his opponent?s belly, his tsaisi stabbing forwards in his right hand, and the Royal Guard twisted to the side, spinning his swordstaff to catch the tsaisi half way along its length and scything outwards with the blade, forcing Kang Hun?s sword-arm out wide and laying his guard wide open.

But rather than swinging his blade forwards ? a move that would have laid him open to attack himself ? the Guardsman thrust the blunt butt-end of his weapon?s long haft towards his opponent?s face. Kang Hun laughed and took a quick half-step backwards, whip-slashing his tsaisi sideways in a snaking move.

?Infidel fool!? he whooped, and Nom Anor knew what he was thinking about ? the bio-weapon?s fanged jaws clamping round the swordstaff?s haft, the powerful wrist-flick that would wrench the swordstaff out of his opponent?s hand.

Poor fool, he thought, almost in pity.

Almost too quick for the eye to follow, the swordstaff?s second blade snapped out from the weapon?s butt, stabbing neatly through Kang Hun?s open mouth and slicing deep into his throat, turning his contemptuous laugh into a gurgling scream. The blade snapped back into its sheath, spitting blood, and the tsaisi slashed through empty air. Kang Hun stared at the Guardsman, his mouth working soundlessly for several seconds, red blood guttering between his teeth. Then he dropped hard to the deck, his body whiplashing as he landed, and lay still.

And it was all over. The surviving Yuuzhan Vong warriors were retreating, leaving most of their comrades lying sprawled on the rubble scree. And two squads of white-armoured stormtroopers were already moving out to secure a field perimiter and root out any lurking survivors, moving with impressive speed and efficiency. They had outnumbered the Yuuzhan Vong almost three to one, but Nom Anor had seen warrior cadres win against far greater odds, and if the hunting-party?s inexperience could excuse their defeat, it could hardly explain the loss of their veteran commander. By killing him in single combat ? and by making it look easy ? the Guardsman had proved himself the better warrior than Kang Hun or any of his cadre.

Now, he stood in the centre of the battlefield like the conqueror he was, holding a clipped conference with two stormtroopers wearing the black pauldrons of field officers. They were too far away for Nom Anor to catch what they were saying, but as he watched, two troopers appeared out of the shadows behind them, dragging the warrior-girl with them ? dazed, bruised, and angry but otherwise unhurt.

They forced her to the ground beside the officers, and one of them pressed the muzzle of his carbine against the back of her skull. The Guardsman nodded, and turned towards Nom Anor?s hiding-place. Perhaps it was just a coincidence, but he would have sworn the man was looking straight at him.

?Come out,? he said. ?Or we kill your girlfriend here.?

Nom Anor smiled, and snaked out of the crevasse, dropping smartly to the ground. Drawing himself up to his full hight, he holstered his blaster with all the ostentatiou

 

Well, *I* liked it. Not too sure that Yuuzhan Vong warriors or Imperial stormtroopers would call an improptu truce, though.

Great Kir Kanos reference, though. Kanos really would have quite the psychotic/fanatical grudge against Nom Anor, wouldn't he?

The more I read Hostile Forces, the more I want to *keep* reading Hostile Forces. So, keep the updates a-comin'!

 

It's a sort of unspoken, unconscious thing... maybe that's not well-expressed. Basically, the logic is that both sides see what's happening, and sense that the duel will decide the skirmish - the Yuuzhan Vong because they're warriors who believe in that sort of thing and it would be rather rude to interrupt Kang Hun, and the Imperials because they know what the Yuuzhan Vong are like...

For cheap technical reasons, it also made it easier to focus on the duel...

But thanks... and go easy... I do have rl to live as well - that's 'real life', btw, for anyone who needs reminding...



- The Imperial Ewok

 

*hangs head in shame*
rl...
*shame face*

I understand, señor. Easy taking commenced and sustained.

 

Dang, I never read Crimson Empire or CE 2. Anyone wanna fill me in on what Nom Anor did?

 

The red-armoured warrior from Domain Choka was the last to fall, fighting bravely. The Chosen had fallen back, and then sent three of their number forwards to finish the job in what Kheyanni recognized as a gesture of honour, a compliment to a fellow-warrior that had nothing to do with caste or prejudice.

The red-armoured warrior seemed to realise this, nodding slowly as the three Chosen advanced towards him. He even got in one good strike, slashing the blade of his amphistaff across the cuirass of one of his enemies ? but to make the move, he had to drop his guard, allowing the Chosen warrior to stab his own tsaisi through the weak-point between the two stomach-plates of his cuirass. A difficult kill-stroke, one that brought honour to the victor, and little shame or suffering to the victim - just a sudden starburst of purifying pain.

The red-armoured warrior?s amphistaff dropped from his hand, and he slid off the tsaisi blade, falling backwards to the ground, spasming suddenly, and lying still.

The War Games were over, and the Chosen stood victorious in the centre of the arena. Apart from a few grazes in their armour, which they brushed at as if in irritation, they were untouched.

The onlookers were still mostly silent, but from the amplifier membranes arrayed around the dais, Kheyanni could hear the whisper of awe, hostility mingled with shock. Many of the warriors in the crowd were snarling in anger, but here and there, the banners were beginning to dip in respect, and suddenly a new chant was rising from some of the sections reserved for the worker-caste.

?Cho-sen! Cho-sen! Cho-sen!?

And still, Na?khai stood impassive in his place at the end of the dais.

Smiling, Nol Kheyanni began to tap one slipper-shod foot against the deck, quietly keeping time with the workers? chant, ignoring the movement in the entranceway which had caught her eye.

As she felt the crowd around her shifting their own attention, she turned slowly, to see two warriors striding onto the pearlescent deck of the dais, two subalterns with the fringed robes of court officers looped over their armour. One moved towards Na?khai, young, aggressive, and evidently highly favoured. But the other turned towards her, and she smiled.

The second messenger?s formal seniority was made clear by a few additonal minor enhancements on his armour, and the scarring which adorned his face and throat was horrific even by Yuuzhan Vong standards, skin and muscle shredded by battle wounds rather than ritual mutilation. But the face masked by his scars was that of a finty-eyed, firm-jawed warrior, a man with more age and experience than was usual for his rank ? a warrior from a domain of no great note, then, risen from the lower ranks. A warrior for whom a posting as a subaltern attached to the court represented an honourable semi-retirement at the end of a long battlefield career, whereas for his comrade it was just the beginning.

So although the messenger who the Supreme Overlord?s had sent to the Commander of the Chosen ranked lower than the aide striding towards Kheyanni, he was evidently high in court favour, and no-one could think that any sort of insult was intended to Na?khai. A clever mainpulation of court protocol, then, which also served as a pointed comment on the warriors? behaviour only minutes earlier.

Just the sort of thing High Prefect Kalahar would think of, Kheyanni decided, laughing to herself. But all the same, she had to be tactful.

?Not yet,? she whispered, gesturing for silence. Everyone else on the dais was already looking at Na?khai ? but he was still standing with his back to them, staring down at the arena where the slave-teams were cleaning up the mess under the watchful gaze of their overseers, throwing the corpses into the maw of the sled-shell dragged in by the ronnoks, raking the blood into the powder of crushed shell and tiny carnivorous insects that made up the arena floor. But, if he was paying as much attention as she now suspected, the Commander of the Chosen w

 

Okay... that's Coruscant out of the way for a while... so back we go to the Battle of Bastion!

And Spike - basically, in CE2, Nom Anor undermined the power of the Empire after the death of the last Palpatine clone in Empire's End, and tried - if memory serves - to pin the blame on Kir Kanos...

- The Imperial Ewok

 

Superb, T McE.

You manage to make the Yuuzhan Vong into fairly agreeable characters that are worth reading about.

Nom Anor's exact role in the speedy collapse of the Empire post-Palpatine clone is only half understood.

He made some effort to pin Kir Kanos as the fall-guy for El Clono's death, but I don't know exactly how effective said effort was, since Carnor Jax was hunting him down because Kanos could (and would) either kill or implicate Jax as the actual accomplice behind Cloney's death.

Following Jax's death, Nom Anor "helped" one of the conspirators of the Imperial Interim Ruling Council kill off his political opponents and declare himself ersatz emporer. Not many people liked this, and the factionalism that would nearly kill the Empire altogether started to rear it's ugly head.

There was a brief civil war, and the Empire fell apart into various warlord factions. Whether or not Nom Anor had anything to do with the death of Señor Clonenstein, I couldn't tell you. But it's implied that he had been working to weaken the Empire for some time.

 

Which brings us to the question of what happened to Kir Kanos?
My personal guess is he's out in the UR with the Imperials there.
And if Pellaeon has any inkling of what Nom Anor did to the Empire....
Things could get very hairy for our Executor.
I've also heard rumors, that since Carnor Jax was a disciple of Lumiya, she too was involved in Palp's final death. Maybe to consolidate her position as Sith Lord?
But that doesn't explain why she waited and let the Empire crumble apart like it did.

 

Hmm... I wonder if a military man like Pellaeon knows the truth behind El Clono's death, and I wonder if he'd care.

He always struck me as more loyal to the ideals of the New Order than to Palpatine himself. Since he was the one to urge the Council of Moffs to make slavery illegal, I doubt that he was, shall we say, a huge Palpatine fan.

Still, he did hate that the Empire had been mostly reduced to squabbling jack-tards...

 

By Specter of the Past, Pellaeon and Hestiv were wondering why no-one had assasinated Palpatine before Endor... but the exact contributions of Lumiya and Nom Anor to Carnor Jax' attempt to take over the Empire in Dark Empire and the original Crimson Empire are rather unclear... there can be IMHO no real doubt that Lumiya is at least partially behind it, cleaning up the Sith hierarchy by getting rid of Palpatine's clones...

I may be misremembering, but I was thinking more of the way that Nom Anor killed off the Interim Council in CE2 and blamed it on Kir Kanos...

- The Imperial Ewok

 

Yarr.

There's always that...

 

Thanks for filling me in guys.

 

?Break left!?

Jaina jinked her X-wing hard away as Twin Two exploded beside her, a magma missile tearing into the fighter?s engines, flaring instantly into a fireball that engulfed the whole fighter and made her own cockpit canopy flash dark against the glare. She felt her spaceframe shake as shards of superheated metal buffeted her shields, but she was already turning away, looping down into a low curl back towards the pursuing Yuuzhan Vong.

She was on her own now, facing three undamaged skips in the brutal heart of the dogfight.

?Twins,? she snapped, throwing her fighter into another evasive pattern as four more skips slid out of nowhere and onto her tail. ?Untouchable? Where?s my squadron? Twin Suns, Lead. Check in.? But there was no answer. She really was on her own. The last Twin Suns ID signal had disappeared from the screen in front of her, and if the Rattler was still in the fight, she had troubles of her own to take care off.

Alone, outnumbered, and with her shields bleeding dry.

But there was no time to worry about that now. The three-ship formation in front was about to slide into her targeting bracket, and a hard frown formed on her face ? not anger or frustration, but an expression of intense concentration. All she had to do was shake free of her pursuers? target-lock for a few seconds ? long enough to take out the Yuuzhan Vong in front of her.

All? she asked herself, slewing hard to one side and pushing the X-wing?s head down into a rolling turn. The stars streaked sideways as they spun past her cockpit, but the four skips followed her into the manoeuvre as if latched to her tail by magnetic grapples, and her shields burned brilliant white as more fire tore into them.

If she was going to do something, she was going to have to do it fast.

Pulling her stick hard back into her belly, she brought the X-wing?s head up sharply, then nudged the X-wing back towards the three-ship group of skips ? only to twist the stick and throw the fighter over in the other direction a split-second later, standing sideways on the ends of her s-foils as she veered sharply outwards ? away from the skips. The astromech?s warning howl changed to a warbling whistle as her pursuers zoomed away in the wrong direction, and she toggled her shields to double front as she spiralled up and away from them. Evening out into level flight, she saw the three-fighter flight spin into view ahead of her, their plasma spitters blazing.

The double-fronted shields took the incoming fire, but she knew she only had a few seconds until the four-skip flight fought their way back onto her unshielded tail. Only a few seconds to kill the three Yuuzhan Vong fighters in front of her.

Just a little longer?

 

Keep it comin'.

 

*prays for Jaina to die*