High Inquisitor Hector Von Ricmore, Reaper

Equite 4, Clan Vizsla, Force Disciple, Dark Jedi
197
Total Fiction Activities
80
Regular Fiction
34446 words in 44 activities
Run-Ons
4819 words in 9 posts and 5 activities
Roleplaying
33631 words in 27 activities
Displaying fiction activity reports 51 - 60 of 80 in total
Competition
The Great Hunt Begins
Textual submission

Clan Vizsla
Zsoldos System, Space Outside Daemunn
Acclamator Class Assault Ship
Von Ricmore

The bridge of Clan Vizsla’s Acclamator Class Assault Ship was wrought with activity. Final preparations were made as the ship began to descend into the atmosphere of Daemunn.
Von was confident in the clan’s ability to establish a presence on the moon. The 16,000 troops aboard the Acclamator alongside the token fleet blockade consisting of the Concordia, Rim Runner, Shadow Fox, Shriek Hawk and Viper Flight should prove ample enough to conquer the moon while preventing outside interruption. If reinforcements were needed the clan could call upon its entire fleet within an hour given their presence within their home system.

Preparation completed, the Acclamator descended into the atmosphere. Artillery and anti air fire buffeted the ship which remained intact as it completed its landing. The Kyber Shield upgrade gave the vessel shields comparable to a stock star destroyer; their enemy would require stronger munitions to bring the ship down before it could make a landing.

“The anti air must be destroyed before we can deploy troop transports.” Von thought to himself.

“Contact the Concordia. Have them deploy 2 squadrons of X Wings and the B wing squadron. That should be ample force to destroy their artillery.” The Sith ordered the Acclamator crew.

“Right away sir.” The captain replied.

“Concordia, Commander Ricmore orders the deployment of 2 X wing squadrons and the B wing squadron.” The Captain messaged.

“They’ve agreed to your request.” The Captain informed.

“Excellent. Let us hope they are successful.”

The starfighter squadrons exited the Concordia descending in formation towards Daemunn. Anti-air fire slammed into the formation, taking down 3 X-wings and causing the formation to scatter. Once apart the anti air had difficulty taking down the fighters, it was designed to take down transports and capital ships. Only an additional 2 X-wings and a single B Wing were destroyed before the ships completed their strafing run, completely destroying the anti air emplacements.

“With the anti air destroyed we can begin deploying ground troops. Deploy the J-1 artillery but replace the usual munitions with fear gas explosives. While they soften the enemy, prepare an advance force with the Gamma transports and have a platoon of AT-AT and AT-ST ready to support them.”

The Captain gave his acknowledgement and repeated the order to the men.

Vizsla forces began to dismount the Acclamator, setting up the Artillery cannons. Mechanics prepared the vehicles as troops double checked their blasters and boarded.

The artillery began their bombardment, a sick orange cloud emerging from the shelled locations. The gas blew towards the makeshift cantina where a series of shouts and screams could be heard from within.

As the bombardment continued the Vizsla forces saw a ship take off from behind the cantina. The ship seemed to blur before fading from view completely.

“Hmm.” Von muttered. “It is safe to assume that our target is onboard that vessel. We won’t find a stealth corvette unless it wants to be found. Have the artillery switch to proton rounds and prep the AT-M6. Obliterate the cantina.”

The bombardment escalated until the cantina was rubble. But Von couldn’t help but feel that the stealth corvette would be the cause of many headaches in the days to come.

Competition
Consul's Savior Or Assasin?
Textual submission

Sundari Station
Zsoldos space
Clan Vizsla

Von Ricmore gazed out the transparisteel window of Sundari station, his gaze drawn towards the surface of the planet Zsoldos below him. The Anzat had a lot on his mind, having received a series of troubling dreams; dreams he believed to be premonitions from the Force.

He had woken many a night to the terrifying visage of a dathomirian nightbrother wielding an ominous white blade. But the Force whispered that it was a threat to be wary of in the future. He had a much more immediate problem to deal with.

The Zabrak was far from the only face to haunt his nightmares. He often saw the face of the contemptible Seer; more recent visions included her cackling over the body of Korvis. Clan Vizsla could not afford to lose its Consul, and Von refused to lose a man that he was proud to call a friend.

The Seer was wise and cunning, possessing a talent for plotting and maneuvering elements behind the scenes. She wouldn’t be foolish enough to believe that she could best a Mandalorian on the field of battle. She would use battle as a tool to weaken her foes and strike while they are weak, perhaps with one of her crystallized monstrosities.

Yet Von could not shake the feeling that The Seer had something else planned. How would she sow fear and terror in the heart of Clan Vizsla? If he had to achieve such a goal, Von would resort to assassination, to show his foe that nowhere is safe. Slaying your enemy while they are resting among their forces and defenses was the kind of paradoxically bold and subtle maneuver that The Seer seemed to prefer. She had allowed others to further her goals in the past, avoiding placing herself in direct danger.

Von was filled with a sense of satisfaction from the Force around him. Whether congratulating his inference or merely excited for the coming conflict, Von could not say. But he now knew what he had to do. He had to bait out the assassin and slay them before Korvis could come to harm.

Taking advantage of his status as Quaestor of House Deathwatch, Von scheduled a meeting with Korvis and allowed the information to leak throughout the Clan. The meeting would occur within a slum on Nar Shadda, away from the prying eyes or security of Clan Vizsla. Knowledge of such a meeting would surely lure out the assassin.

Von flew his Tie Defender to Nar Shadda, paying the docking fee to avoid any trouble or suspicion being brought upon him. He left the spaceport and ventured towards the meeting location.

Having sent a body double to represent him, Von cloaked himself in the Force, hiding himself from the eye.

Arriving at the meeting place, Von remained shrouded as he looked around for any possible threats.

Korvis and the Body Double arrived and began to converse. Von’s brow knit in concentration as he called upon the Force, allowing it to flow through his ears, heightening his hearing.

His amplified hearing soon picked up a pair of extraordinarily quiet footsteps. Turning towards the sound, Von saw a figure unholster a blaster sniper rifle. Taking no chances, the Anzat dropped his Cloak and stepped forward with his right hand curled into a fist. The figure began to choke as it dropped its weapon and was lifted into the air. Von kept his grip tight until the figure ran out of air, slumping over unconscious.
He pulled the figure towards him before setting them on the ground.

“Now, let’s find out what you know.” Von declared as he dragged the figure away for interrogation.

Notes
Role Play Demo - Operation Salty Saunter
Competition
[Pro Bowl V: Week Two] Poetry
Textual submission

Kneeling on the ground
The Force flows all around me
I have found my peace

Competition
Operation: RAPTORSTRIKE
Textual submission

Von Ricore let out a long drawn out sigh as he leaned back in his chair. While the majority of the Clan Embassies were rather spartan in nature it was not too arduous for the massive humanoid to convince the Dark Ascent guards of the necessity for a piece of furniture that could hold his larger frame. Serving as a one time guard to Marick during his tenure as voice and his credentials with the Shadow Academy helped to prove his loyalty, at least enough to get him a damn chair.
“But it wasn’t enough to speed this process up.” Von mumbled to himself. With the conflict between the Severian Principate and Tenexir Revenants simmering to a halt many wondered what future lay in store for The Unknown regions comprising Brotherhood Space. The Clan Vizsla information network, a series of criminals, bounty hunters and ne’er do wells, had been abuzz with rumor. It appeared the Dark Council were planning something known as Operation RAPTORSTRIKE. Some other fool may have made a massive mistake, attempting to torture the info out of guards, or break into the Dark Ascent. Von had no intention of making himself a martyr on this day. Instead he requested an audience with the Dark Council which led him to his current situation, lounging in a chair with mind numbing boredom as he waited to be summoned to the council chamber.
After what felt like an eternity Von was jolted out of his daydreaming by a knock at the door. Answering it, he found himself face to face with a Royal Guard in black armor armed with a force pike.
“The council will see you now.” The guard announced, their voice muffled by a voice modulator to protect their identity.
Von nodded and followed the guard out of the room. Despite no longer having the ability to use the Force he couldn’t help the ominous feeling growing within him. Perhaps it was merely a phantom sensation but the hybrid couldn’t help but feel nervous about the meeting. He was going to be in a room with some of the strongest Force users the galaxy had ever known. And that was more than a little unnerving.
The pair entered the lower level turbolifts. Neither dared to speak out of a mixture of duty, respect, and a little bit of fear. The lifts arrived at the upper level. The pair exited and trekked down a series of hallways filled with black robed royal guards. The duo then arrived at the opulent Antechamber of the Dark Council. Beskar ornaments acted as a showcase to the wealth of the Brotherhood, proof that the Council could afford to waste the expensive and valuable metal on pointless trinkets. 8 Royal Guards in Black Praetorian Guard Armor, the Elite of the Elite, guarded this chamber.
The guard escorting Von tapped their force pike on the ground 8 times. In response; one of the Praetorian guards inserted a code cylinder into a terminal, opening the way forward. The duo continued down that hallway entering a vast empty cavern. The room was empty except for a set of spiraling stairs which lead upward.

“Ascend the stairs. The council is waiting.”

Von did as he was asked; carefully ascending the winding staircase. At the top he saw a room with thrones arranged in a semicircle. Most were empty, save the center throne, occupied by a short human with amber hair and eyes.

“Darth Nehalem.” Von exclaimed as he prostrated himself before the leader of the Brotherhood.

“Now, now. There’s no need for that. Rise Von Ricmore.”

“But my lord…I.”

The Sith Lord held up a hand to silence him. “I appreciate your attempt to stand on ceremony but there is no need to debase yourself. I have things to do and it will be far better for the both of us if we get this audience over with.”

Von was visibly taken aback. Schooling his expression he refused to allow the Sith to get to him. “Yes my lord. You see I have sought an audience regarding…”

“Operation Raptorstrike.” The Sith interrupted once again. “I am aware. James foresaw your arrival several weeks ago. You have good timing Ricmore. The Brotherhood requires your services. The presence of the Crystal Soldiers used by our enemies is worrisome. But we’ve come up with a ritual of our own. Using it on any ordinary sentient would likely lead to a berserk trooper, a mindless brute like the crystal soldier. But you? A Force user who lost his connections to the Force. It may just be what you need to rekindle it. Will you take the risk, Von?”

“Of course sir. Just tell me what I have to do.”

A sinister smile spread across Evant’s face. “Excellent. Most excellent indeed.”

Unknown Planet

Von knelt in the circle formed from Sith Alchemy; Devoid of all clothes except a loincloth. An acolyte stepped forward, bucket in hand.

“With this liquid you are cleansed of your past. Your mistakes, your triumphs, nothing will shackle you any longer.”
The acolyte doused Von with the unknown liquid. His red skin took on a green tinge as the glowing green liquid flowed across his body.

“But power can not be gained without cost. An anchor is required, a chain to bind you until you have the strength to break it.”
A different acolyte stepped near the circle and handed Von a Sith Alchemy dagger. The hybrid raised the blade and took a deep breath to steady himself. He brought the dagger down, cutting and tearing his left eye from the socket.

“AHHHHH!” He screamed out in agony. Blood oozed from the wound, which ran down his face and dripped onto the alchemical circle. The circle began to glow an insidious, smoky, green.

“With that sacrifice, that anchor, you can now bear host to the strength that you deserve.”
A third acolyte stepped forward gripping a small case. Opening it, Von’s remaining eye saw a purple Kyber crystal covered in Sith Alchemical runes, fashioned into the shape of an eye. The acolyte handed Von the item.

The hybrid brought the eye to his face, slotting it into the socket with a pained grunt. Magic beyond his understanding fused the artificial eye. Von screamed until his voice broke and he could scream no more. All the pain he felt was secondary to a new emotion, happiness. He could feel it. He could feel the Force again.

Darth Nehalem was beside himself with joy. It had worked. “This is only the beginning.”

Competition
[RoS: Escalation Phase I] Fiction - A Venue to Die For
Textual submission

Dandoran: Chemical Processing Plant
Hidden away within one of the forests of Dandoran is a major source of wealth for the Hutt clan, a Chemical Processing Plant. As a source of revenue the building has been invested heavily in by the Hutts. Built with a reinforced durasteel/Beskar alloy and protected by a domed ray shield that can be deployed at any time the building can withstand even a planetary bombardment. The building is also protected by several automated turrets, which a skilled slicer may be able to make use of for their own purposes.
The inside of the building is filled with forced laborers and scientists who work tirelessly to produce military combat stims and illegal spice to appease the endless greed of the Hutts. Various chemicals bubble in test tubes at the science quarter while the spice is manufactured along an assembly line worked by slaves.
While the outside has a temperate forest climate the interior of the building alternates between sweltering heat with air filled with chemical fumes to remarkably chilly when the drugs need to be preserved and packed.

Competition
[RoS: Escalation Event Long] Fiction - Small Group Run On - Blockade
Textual submission

Manually added by Master Dacien Victae

Competition
[GJW XIV Event Long] Fiction - Clan-Wide Run On Defense of Arx
Textual submission

Manually added by Master Dacien Victae

Competition
[GJW XIV Phase I] Fiction - The Old Tongue
Textual submission

One of the Collective agents who infiltrated the Shadow Academy has been neutralized and the artifact he was carrying has been recovered. This artifact is a small blade. I use a blade to refer to the item as it is longer than a dagger but not quite long enough to qualify as a sword, perhaps it should then be considered a short sword. The blade is a functional weapon, as many Sith artifacts have a tendency to be. It appears to have served some sort of ritualistic purpose, as even now the blade has a supernatural tang of blood around it. Personally, being near the blade is unnerving enough due to the bizarre smell, but the many incantations engraved into the blade which seem to glow when looking at it from the corner of one’s eye is enough to set myself and other researchers on end. The writing was translated by one of our staff who understood the written word of the Ancient Sith. This haiku below is a translation of the writing found upon the blade.

We are the chosen
Of blackened hearts and pure blood
We stand tall and proud

Dominating all
No one can stand in our way
Conquer, loot, destroy

A jedi fallen
Brought us knowledge of the force
Enabled our rise

We can never stop
Needs never satiated
They drive us onward

Competition
[GJW XIV Event Long] Fiction - The Tragedy of Darth Panda the Pantsless
Textual submission

5 ABY
Prophet Howlader “Howie” Taldrya
Imperial Star Destroyer Indomitable

“This is getting out of hand.” Howlader muttered to himself as he exited the cockpit of his Tie Interceptor. Removing his helmet with a sigh of frustration, the human began to briskly walk towards his quarters. The ace pilot had a lot on his mind; the destruction of the second Death Star and death of The Emperor had the remnants of the Imperial Military scrambling to restore order. The Rebel Alliance was putting up an even greater resistance than usual, something which bothered Howlader greatly. Those accursed rebels, they brought the war to Endor and death to his tribe, his beloved pandas. It was long past time for Howlader to show them where they belonged; groveling on the ground with the Empire’s boot resting on their neck.

Arriving at his quarters the human locked the door behind him. Taking off his Tie flight suit, the human stepped into the fresher for a quick cleaning. Leave it to his commanders to schedule a strategy meeting almost immediately after his deployment. Howlader barely had enough time to freshen up for the meeting much less grab a bite to eat or get some much needed shut-eye. “Perhaps I should not be so surprised. Command can not seem to implement proper tactics to allow us a victory against the New Republic so why should I expect them to be able to competently create a schedule?”

Finished with his cleansing the human quickly put on his military dress uniform before racing out the door. He moved swiftly through the hallways of the Star Destroyer, intent on making it to the meeting in time. So focused on moving swiftly he missed a crewman carrying a pot of stew. Crashing into him, Howlader fell to the floor. The crewman lost his balance and dumped the pot of stew all over Howlader’s pants. The human gave an exclamation of pain and surprise, having not seen the crewman and undoubtedly not expecting to have hot stew poured onto him.

Howlader hissed in pain and got to his feet. He then grabbed the crewman by his collar and pulled him upwards. “You absolute fool! Do you have any idea what you have just done?! The strategy meeting called by command starts any minute. And now I do not have the time to change.”

The crewman muttered a string of apologies as Howlader released his grasp with a sigh of disgust. With another sigh of frustration Howlader entered the meeting.

As he entered the meeting all of the officers who had been speaking immediately stopped talking. The admiral in charge of this remnant of the Empire looked directly at Howlader and raised an eyebrow. “Normally I would ask for the reason for your tardiness but the answer is plainly evident to any who gaze upon your pants.”

An officer failed to contain his chuckles and began outright laughing. The laughter spread amongst all the officers gathered.
Howlader’s cheeks burned with embarrassment and a single thought dominated within his head. “I. Hate. Pants.”