Faction 55 Days in Mantell City | Dark Empire

[Sinestra]

The Road to the Core passes through Ord Mantell.

The cunning IMPERIAL WARLORD SION has pledged his allegiance to EMPEROR SOLIPSIS, welcoming a delegation of the DARK EMPIRE to his planet, ORD MANTELL. Underneath this facade of loyalty, however, a sinister betrayal lurks.

Upon the delegation's arrival, SION unveils his treachery, transforming ORD MANTELL CITY into a deadly trap. Explosions and blaster fire shatter the peace, as the delegation and its small escort force are entrapped within by SION's merciless troops.

For 55 DAYS, the delegation has fought to survive, barricaded within the city's crumbling ruins. The COMMUNICATION BLACKOUT imposed by SION prevents any calls for aid from escaping the planet, leaving the besieged forces isolated and outnumbered.

As supplies dwindle and morale falters, the battle for ORD MANTELL rages on.

**

OOC/ The intent is for less of a combat/sabers and blasters go bzzt story but something else like, but not limited to:

a) A social thread to see the effects of a high-stress, no-win scenario on you for an extended period of time.
b) Escape from New York Vibes- The goal is not to conquer, but escape with the VIPs.
c) PVE opportunity to make contact and convince local forces who would aid in a future counter assault

 

[Sinestra]

Tags: OPEN for interactions

Sinestra shuffled through the makeshift trench, her breath coming in short, harsh gasps. The walls of the ditch were jagged, dirt and debris trickling down with each distant explosion. Sweat rolled down her face, stinging her eyes as she blinked to clear her vision. Her arms ached from wielding her crimson blade for hours, and her muscles trembled with exhaustion after 55 days of relentless battle.

The wounds on her arms and legs bled through her bandages, each movement sending sharp jolts of pain through her body. Her heart pounded, an urgent rhythm that drowned out the distant voices of stormtroopers, calling for orders.

The seer glanced both left and right to see no one was around and took the opportunity to catch her breath. To allow herself to show weakness.

She slumped back against the jagged walls for a short reprieve.

 

[Aridius 'TK-1575']

ARIDIUS TK-1575 'CRIMSON'
HEAVY TROOPER
TAGS: Open for Interaction

"Those who ask for mercy are too weak to deserve it."
― DARTH BANE

​

Some say that before battle, one can sense the incoming death. As if the gates of hell are opening, and so it prepares like floodgates before a storm. The pit of unease that befalls one's stomach, like a rat clawing at the cage wanting to get out. That was the feeling when the Stormtrooper arrived to Ord Mantell. It was no surprise to him when the blaster bolts began to fly. When their last hopes of escape from this dreaded ambush were cut off in furious explosions of heavy blaster fire. Watching the chain of command collapse not by incompetence but the sheer volume of death. The only communication between units not the concentrated discipline of Imperial Infantry tactics but instead the drowning screams of officers and veterans alike trying to maintain cohesion.

Yet to Crimson- it was nothing. This was his element, his 'zone'. While the inexperienced around him hid within their fighting holes or fought from building to building, Crimson was able to shut his brain off. Let the adrenaline through his body flow, allow the rage and the hatred to be hyperfocused through the heavy blaster cannon which he so proudly toated around. It was music, like a choir within a church. The roaring sounds of war and battle was the ambiance, and the main instrument was his cannon.

-THWA-THWA-THWA-THWA-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK.. "Damnit!" Crimson's hand slammed against the Blaster Cannon, the sizzling heat from the consistent laser fire rising into the air as the familiar ammo counter blinked red. His other hand, like clockwork, checked his backpack to find the energy storage to be empty. Out of ammunition in a time like this. Quickly, he retreated back from the fighting. He didn't bother telling an Officer or someone else in charge, they wouldn't be alive much longer anyway. Crawling from the fighting, Crimson found himself alone- somewhat. Only him and the dead.

So the scavenging began; rolling over the bodies of his fellow troopers to take whatever ammo they had left. One in particular caught his interest, and he silently stalked over. A fallen Heavy Trooper from another platoon, which his ammunition half-intact. Perfect. { "Behind you." } A voice spoke, literally, in Crimson's head.

His hand pulled out a blaster pistol and aimed it straight for Sinestra , the hum of the safety coming off echoing through the somewhat silent streets. Upon seeing that the Seer was wounded, he lowered it. "YOU'RE HURT." Crimson's voice was heavily robotic through the voice modulator of the Stormtrooper Helmet, with emotion purposefully removed.

To Sinestra's eyes, Crimson was a standard Stormtrooper. Red markings are painted across the white exterior, and lines are etched throughout his armor to showcase a kill count. If the etchings were correct, Crimson had been fighting a long time—thousands of lines etched by a knife. The heavy blaster cannon slung over his shoulder took thousands of souls, and yet here he was.

​

 

[Thomas Barran]

1st Post

-TERROR PREVAILS-

THE_BLOODHOUND
GREAT KHAN OF THE SCAR HOUNDS
WARLORD OF RHIGAR & MAR'ZAMBUL
DIVINE CHAMPION OF MOTHER REBIRTH

Tags
Friend: Sinestra Aridius 'TK-1575'

Foe: [OPEN TO OPPS but PVE vibes do be fun rn]

A NEW CENTURY, A NEW TERROR III: A BRAWL THROUGH MANTELLSKA - PART 1

MERISKA, TITAN VALLEY MONORAIL HQ,
RASKEN COUNTY, ORD MANTELL (901 ABY)

<"Ghoul to Bloodhound! Rest easy, the prisoner talked under enticement to defect. It didn't take long.">
​

Like most of their battles, Mawite battle-doctrine would likely play a grand role in the fight to relieve Mantell City's legation quarter, setting off from the region's port in a flash, shock advance to break the siege, sparing no time to consolidate in the endeavour of lunging for the very throat of the issue. However, there would be a three-pronged strategy to the northward advance, adding elements of complexity for psychological effect, with added momentum that would further-throw the local militias into backfoot-recovery - likely as a direct consequence to the abandonment of conventional doctrine.

<"Kill him then.">
<"By your order, Great Khan. [Thwack] Sending transcript now.">​

'Ha! Not bad.'

Time was of the essence here, as every potential setback would cost lives in defence of the legations, and in understanding of the urgent tones spoken in the Imperial delegation's SOS transmissions, it was made clear from the offset that abandoning usual doctrines would make all the difference under the circumstances. This time the Khan would need to think differently, though such leanings were already apparent in the planning process, wishing more than ever to act less like a general and more like a marauder, veering from the mind of a soldier to take on that of a nomad instead. Caring little for logistical issues, and especially not with every mode of advance bore it's supply-carrying advantages, all that remained was the long and arduous route to the source of the Warlord's signal, though it had been fairly obvious to see that the local populations wouldn't make it easy for them.

<"Good.... Hold the fort with the cavalry for now, air-assault squadrons are refuelling as we speak.">

<"Good news! How about you, though? You making progress down below?">
<"About halfway to Berestina, could be worse. Bloodhound - out!">​

Fortunate then that certain villages and townships would declare support for the Khanate elements marching into Berestina in particular, learning quickly through mutual contacts that this contingent were allied with the new, Carlaci Empire, and though it didn't seem to stop other communities from yielding militias enough to hamper their progress, Barran was confident enough to push on with renewed belief that more yet would announce support on approach - and much like the Berestinan people had just days before.

It was the last town in the province before they crossed over into the wide belt of the capital's surrounding counties, pushing northward to a well-defended fortress town, appearing not-too-dissimilar to that which Thomas was still trying to reach at the time; though the similarities would unfortunately end with those on the geolocations they had for Berestina, as in the next central-town awaited an arrayed defensive contingent of Mantellska's many militias, poised to strike above, on and below the ground at all who dared approach. Thinking themselves (as others in the region had-) as Separatists to a broken state, and arming themselves for what appeared to be a full-scale rebellion, all which intrigued the Khan greatly, especially the matter of where their weapons and ordnance were being sent from.

All contributing to the general line of questioning for all the POWs they caught;

1. Who are your leaders?
2. To whom do they claim allegiance?
3. Where are your leaders now?
4. Who funds your leaders?
5. Where are these weapons coming from?
6. Who dares to supply your cause with these weapons?
7. Are your suppliers here, on Ord Mantell?

​

 

[Ellayina L'lerim]

Torture and Interrogation Officer and Agent

Information

Objective: Escape from the Planet
Location: Mantell City, Ord Mantell
Equipment: 2x Sunfury Pistol | Light Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger || Cloaking Device | 5x ASBF Probe Droid || Empyrean gland || OPBC-01m
Tag: Kazian Blackwood [direct tag] | Sinestra | Aridius 'TK-1575' | Thomas Barran | Open

"Galactic Common" | <"High Nelvaanian"> | ["Essonian"] | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

To be honest, I didn't expect to be stuck in the same place with Kaz for so long. This situation was new even for me, I was not used to someone being able to block the HPI communication channel and access to MANIAC. So for the last almost two months I have been forced to make do with a general MANIAC backup of my biochip. Fifty-five days ago, the AI had no connection to the main AI and my data was thus quite out of date. For a spy, it was hugely annoying. There was no way to call for help or anything. Our supplies were dwindling, in all regards. Not just ammunition, but food. With our troops scattered, we couldn't stay in one place for long, or SION's men would find us..

For this very reason, there was little time to rest, as one had to flee from enemy scouts at any time. And then I haven't even mentioned that we didn't necessarily know where the others were. If there was shooting in the streets, or explosions, you could tell when our people were nearby. I was sitting on the ground in a ruined house, my back against the wall, trying to catch my breath and rest before the enemy came again. I was thirsty and hungry and, of course, tired.

I was gasping for air and my side hurt like hell, a shot had wounded my side a few hours ago. I could still smell the burned flesh, and every moment I made a wrong move, pain shot through my side. Not to mention the pain in the hips, when the sweat seeped to the wounds thanks to the strained running. Although I had excellent training, I was not prepared for such a long continuous combat situation. I was an agent and not an actual soldier.

Then I heard shots from outside, I scrambled up from the ground and went to the window of the building, careful not to be seen by the enemy, but I can look out into the street. There I saw something I had not seen for days. Members of the Dark Empire. I waved my hand at Kaz, signalling to what I saw outside that we were not alone. That didn't make it any easier, if we reveal ourselves, we might die, but if we didn't, they might. And then there was the plan, which might allow all survivors to escape the planet and get reinforcements and supplies.

"We have two choices, one is to join the other team that are near us and hope that together we can get out and survive... or we can continue to try to get into the place where they are blocking communications and destroy it so we can call for reinforcements." I said tiredly.

I don't think I've slept for two and a half days, and my rest has been a few minutes of sitting, maybe lying down, but nothing serious. At the moment both seemed like suicide missions, but there was one thing we couldn't do. We couldn't separate, because we would have surely died alone. So we had to decide which one we wanted to do together. Unfortunately, we couldn't have one of us going to the right and the other to the left...

 

[Onrai]

Tags: Sinestra Aridius 'TK-1575' Thomas Barran Ellayina L'lerim

A hopeless and endless campaign.

It was something that Onrai's forces were, to say the least, familiar with. By now most all of the military forces she possessed were comprised of an ever-dwindling supply of Darktrooper veterans, augmented by generations of new recruits whose combat service was primarily measured against the Charon and who otherwise were unfamiliar with the threats of the galaxy. The influx of Panathan refugees had aided her, but while they were fanatical, they were the least trained of what she had.

It was for those reasons that the latter had primarily been used on this campaign, along with some of the surviving Oppressor-15 droid Darktroopers that had yet to be upgraded or decommissioned. Onrai herself had chosen to join the delegation in an attempt to press on the new warlord to play nice, and all had gone wrong within their arrival. A company of 100 darktroopers had comprised most of the military escort for the delegation, and of them, less than half remained, the number dwindling with each passing day. As Onrai traveled over to Sinestra and the stormtrooper engaged in conversation with her, her identity as Vanessa Vantai and her apparent fleshy form still intact, she examined a datapad she had kept with the information as to all casualties they had experienced, something to be returned to the Otherworld once they were out of this hellhole. Of the survivors, there were the following:

• A squad of 9 radtroopers, who had lost 3 of their number and most recently their squad leader after he had suicidally taken his ADM to one of Sion's outposts and blown himself (and hundreds of enemies) up.
• 2 snipers, 1 of whom was only such because he had inherited the gear of a dead sniper.
• 3 Oppressor-15s, 1 missing an arm and 1 with a broken energy shield.
• A squad of 7 powered darktroopers, including their commander, 5 of whom were fighting wearing scavenged standard armor as their suits had been irreparably damaged in the battle.
• A mix of two and a half dozen various darktroopers, with little command structure, most of whom were missing their grenades, some of whom only had their sidearms for protection.

She sighed, only to immediately notice the injuries that had been inflicted on the seer she had invested much time and effort into providing gnosis. Panicked, and frankly shocked at the extent of her wounds, Vanessa immediately rushed over to her side, drawing on the energy she had been given through imbibing the souls of her fallen soldiers to help heal the woman's grievous and tremendously injurious wounds. Like the Kindred, taking the power of one life snuffed out and using it to help reinforce another was hardly an effort, though she did find it unfortunate that their souls had come to her through most unnatural means.

"Close your eyes and let your mind wander free." She said to the Mirialan, apprehension in her otherwise calm voice as a thin crystalline casing started forming over the bandaged injuries. "And for the love of Solipsis, don't move. that makes this a lot harder, for you and for me."

 

[Sinestra]

"YOU'RE HURT."

The near-robotic voice startled her, bringing her lightsaber up in guard before noticing it was a friendly stormtrooper; Sion's soldiers would've just fired.

She snapped her crimson blade shut.

"You do not say." Sinestra muttered, the sarcasm dripping from her voice was another sign she could barely maintain her usual composed and commanding facade. She pushed herself from the ditch's wall and straightened her pose to the best of her abilities. Yet, no amount of willpower and deception could veil the fifty-five days of fighting bearing down on her form.

The Dark Jedi sized the man; the usual sharpness of her gaze was worn out like a dull blade, blurred by exhaustion. Red paint flecked the man's breastplate and numerous lines were etched upon the man's whole armor, but beyond the tangible there was something else. Here eyes widened for a moment -- an ethereal presence... she shook her head; fatigue was playing tricks on her, toying with her connection to the Force.

"Where is the rest of your squad, trooper?" she asked, expecting that after fifty-five days of hell this one might be very be the last of his comrades.

Aridius 'TK-1575'

 

[Aridius 'TK-1575']

ARIDIUS TK-1575 'CRIMSON'
HEAVY TROOPER
TAGS: Sinestra

"Those who ask for mercy are too weak to deserve it."
― DARTH BANE

"DEAD. OR SOON TO BE." The Heavy Trooper ripped off the ammunition from his fallen brethren amidst their conversation. No tears are shed for the dead, especially in a galaxy destroyed by chaos. Finally, his scavenge was complete—and with a swift motion, Crimson clicked his backpack to life and connected the re-energized tube to the cannon. The ammunition counter hummed as it turned green, ready to enter back into the brutal fray.

Turning back to Sinestra, Crimson popped off a canister of bacta from his battle-belt, "HERE." He tossed it to the wielder of the Dark Side, expecting her to catch it. "THERE ARE VIPS THAT NEED EVACUATION. THEY'LL TAKE A SECURITY DETAIL WITH THEM." Crimson spoke with robotic efficacy, yet the hidden message was simple. They are the only way we can get out of this alive.

She's a wielder of the Dark Side. She might see me.
I didn't ask you to speak.​

A second shade danced along Crimson's own as if detaching from Crimson's soul. One may think it was a trick of the eye, yet to the trained they could see something else. The Witch, with her hand snaking along the Stormtrooper's armor, whispered into his ear; hiding behind him from sight to all. Sinestra, catching her presence prior, could see the subtle detail that gave it all away.

Crimson's head tilts over, as if he was looking right at the hidden shade. He replied, but only in his head- yet Sinestra, through the ways of the Force, could sense it all too well. This Stormtrooper had a secret, a dark secret. Perhaps, in the fighting, the power utilized to mask the presence was faltering. For even he, an experienced Darktrooper, was exhausted.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK?" Crimson locked his attention back to Sinestra, hiding his face behind the armor's white and red mask.

 

[Kazian Blackwood]

TAGS: Ellayina L'lerim | Open

Since the war had started, my life had been in transit, a constant race back and forth between the Bureau's temporary facilities in orbit of Carlac and the occupied worlds of the Core. Some of missions had encountered difficulties, but nothing had been as brutal as the siege of Mantell. It was far from the break in the travelling I'd wished for.

We had come as part of the diplomatic security detail, a nice change of pace all things considered. When the trap was sprung the ISB was once again caught with our pants down. I'd had little time to curse the intelligence unit or wallow in the embarrassment the Bureau was going to face. The ammunition for my sidearm had run out in the first three days of evading the warlord Sion's loyalists as we'd put as much distance between us and the city hall where he had surrounded us.

By now the Empire must have known their delegation was missing, but no help had arrived in the nearly two months we'd been running and hiding. The situation was grim and getting grimmer. From the beginning we'd be forced to stay under cover during the day. At night, I'd resorted to robbery for food, defiling the storefronts and warehouses of good Imperial citizens just because their governor refused to submit to his rightful liege. It disgusted me, but after each stretch of a few days where we'd had nothing to eat, the necessity drove me back to it. Each time it had brought us closer to getting caught. I'd never learned how many of us had died in the initial attack, and I'd long lost track of how many people we'd had to put down ourselves. Our enemies were Imperials like us, but they served a different cause, the cause of selfishness and petty warlordism. It was a sickness that gripped the Empire fiercely, and it had a firm hold on us now.

In the shadows of an abandoned house I reapplied bandaging with the last of the gauze I'd been able to acquire. I'd taken shots to the leg and shoulder three weeks ago. Far from the worst wounds I could have taken, or that I'd seen in our time here. My arm too had been out of commission for days after I was hit with the stun blast escaping in our first week. Ellayina's fresh wound was among the bad ones, and it was a portent of what was to come.

At first it had been fairly easy to avoid capture, we'd had lots of energy and adrenaline then, and we were only a couple of faces among many. Now we were only a few of those left, and after several close run ins the warlords forces knew us. They were on our heels and penning us in. Our encounter this morning had been the worst so far. It was only a couple of scouts, but they'd hit Ella before I could do anything, and when I could I'd had to beat one of them to death with metal scrap. It hadn't been clean. We stunk, covered in our own sweat and blood as well as our enemy's.

"Ella you should sit down." I tried to be firm with her but my voice showed the weariness I was trying to hide.

I'd learned a great deal about my new partner while we'd been stuck in this. She was as crafty and brilliant in a fight as she was determined. While her determination had kept her, and I by extent, alive this long, it also meant she didn't know when to quit. I could tell her wound was only getting worse as she pushed herself forward evermore.

I stood to my feet and went to her at the window to see what was going on.

Outside there was indeed a few of our own people, looking worse for wear.

"Do you really think you can keep going like this?" I placed one hand on her shoulder and one on the window sill, looking at her trying to gauge how she really felt. I didn't think she would tell me.

Our plan to breach the communications blackout was bold, but when we'd conceived it days ago it seemed like the only thing that could actually save us. I was questioning it now, feeling as shit as we were. But after all we'd been through we didn't want to die, not like this, and part of me felt as though this was my chance to prove myself to the Bureau or die a hero trying.

 

[Arminius Kroeger]

D E M O N
DARK EMPIRE
IRON LEGION | THOSE ONCE LOYAL
Thomas Barran

THE END​

Every hour, on the hour. The duty trooper tapped the comms console, attempting to ping out a distress signal off world. Each and every time, static, nothing. It was a supposedly open and shut job, to shore up a new ally in this budding Empire. Now, here he was, trapped among the ruins. When he'd been tapped for a trip to Ord Mantell, as a mediator between the Dark Empire and an Imperial warlord cut from much of the same cloth as he was, he assumed it to be a trip more in respite than punishment, as abrasive as Ord Mantell was.

Now, it seemed like a slight. Relations among the Dark Imperial upper brass had been shaky since the untimely death of Korvan. Skepticism was certainly brewing in Kroeger's thoughts, but to assume the worst would be to rewrite the sins of the fathers. More had to be done before contempt could be considered.

He walked through the trench of shattered earth. Urban refuse, scrap and debris holding up the walls of this horrid foundation. Ord Mantell, today, was a living glimpse into hell. The hell that was the gotterdamerung of the last Empire. A gaunt, starving army fighting on to the tune of orders sent down by men far from the horrors they created. He walked from the makeshift command hovel, one of his troopers approaching him, lacking the customary salute for the man out of fear of insurgent snipers peering into the Dark Imperial encampment.

<"We caught about twenty of them trying to slip in, make way for our fuel supplies."> The officer said in a brief report. Kroeger nodded and the man turned on his heel, making his way to the sight of the slaughter. The Iron Legion troopers were well underway in looting the men, taking clips of tibanna, cigaras, field rations, anything they could manage from the attempted marauders. Despite the menagerie of Dark Imperial forces sequestered into this muck, Arminius had to make clear who was snatching scalps whenever these raids were attempted. He crouched down by one of the bodies, cigara between his lips before he pulled a deck of sabaac cards from his coat. He pulled it open and flicked a card unto the man's corpse.

He stood up again, continuing down the line, laying a card on each body until the last of the deck was spent, he tossed it aside and flicked the butt of his cigara into the last man. A calling card to signal the Iron Legion had made the kills.

"Any word from ol' Khan, there?" He asked his staff officer who lightly shook his head. Kroeger nodded once.

"Get him on the horn, we need to talk."

 

[Thomas Barran]

2nd Post

-TERROR PREVAILS-

THE_BLOODHOUND
GREAT KHAN OF THE SCAR HOUNDS
WARLORD OF RHIGAR & MAR'ZAMBUL
DIVINE CHAMPION OF MOTHER REBIRTH

Tags
Friend: Sinestra Aridius 'TK-1575' Arminius Kroeger
Kazian Blackwood Ellayina L'lerim Onrai

Foe:

A NEW CENTURY, A NEW TERROR III: A BRAWL THROUGH MANTELLSKA - PART 2

KRAZNAR STATION, OUTSKIRTS OF BERESTINA,
TITAN VALLEY, ORD MANTELL (901 ABY)

<"Ghoul to Bloodhound! Corpses found, tagged our Datapads as Imperial, looks like they were the relief-force we were told about before.... How do we proceed?">

<"Leave it to the Aspirants, but with orders to respect the dead of our allies. They'll know how to handle the matter from there.">
​

Besides the discovery of the possible professional reinforcements, (those they hoped for the most for that matter) the dead were proving to be the least of Barran's worries, but as Berestina's hopes of overthrowing the adjacent border-town were steadily beginning to dwindle, the Khanate forces in the town had an entirely-contrasting view on the matter. It was their confidence that was keeping the doubt at bay, and the confidence of Marauders alone holding the Bloodhound's focus together, and with the briefly-planned attack on Mantellska Province impending, the only thing getting in the way was the revelations in the recorded transcript from Ghoul Darkhan's latest interrogation.

<"Training with Cinnegar as their inspiration? They really doing that now?"

<"Aye, but enough wi' that for now..... I need the scouts to push on, so mount up an' get moving.... The train's a'rolling with ye now - like an earthquake rumbling beneath!">​

Up until that point, the Khanate relief-force was swelling with every disembarking welcome, but after the Kraznar shanties of Berestina, Thomas knew that the local militias would no-longer be so willing to stand with the Bloodhound's ilk. Not that the local friendlies were ever reluctant to remind their new allies of this fact, as they were also vocal in their warnings for the Dark-Imperials who marched through that way before, admitting they had almost minutes after the first introductions were made; but despite that, there was much for the Marauders to admire about allies who were willing to fight the odds again, and especially after the slaughters the Khanate were only just starting to uncover by the time the Khan himself was ready to depart.

<"Sounding the attack now.... Wait a minute. You've got inbound comm-traffic from Mantell city, patching through in three - two-">
[Click]
<"This is Bloodhound - no honorifics here, OPSEC only.... How can I help?">

​

 

[Onrai]

Sinestra Aridius 'TK-1575' Arminius Kroeger Thomas Barran Kazian Blackwood Ellayina L'lerim

"We hardly have much else left." Onrai said to the stormtrooper. It was a slow and excruciating process to mend wounds, especially on a battlefield like this where the worry of attack was constant. In this manifestation. the mortal limitations had stressed and strained her - especially as she was the only one in this group with any healing capabilities as the medkits were exhausted by the end of the first month. The Darktroopers were worn out to say the least, and unfortunately she did not have a positive assessment of the situation. Onrai was, after a time, satisfied the wounds were no longer critical, as the crystal casts surrounding them cracked, fragments dissipating and turning into detritus on the surface of the world. They would hurt, they would likely scar, but they were not going to sap Sinestra of her sinew and leave her gasping for life on the planetary surface.

"If we wait until nightfall, perhaps one of the surviving jumptroopers can surveil the area. Find us the best route to the VIPs, and off this damned planet. I have plans to treat this one with what he deserves once all of us are safely off-world." How she hated the fragmentata of warlordism. That these solitary cretins so readily abandoned the bigger picture out of a desire for personal gain and glory disgusted her more than she cared to admit. Lives, good lives of loyal soldiers, were wasted on a fool's campaign courtesy of one who believed they could get away with treachery whose long-term benefits were nonexistent. Sion, whoever this warlord was, would gain nothing even if the lot of them were slaughtered here. That the so-called Empire of the Lost and the Sith who paid homage to Empyrean as their liege would neither unite nor meld their forces together into a single empire infuriated her. For any misgivings she may have had about Solipsis, she trusted his intent and did indeed believe he viewed all parties within the Dark Empire as mutually beneficial. The Sith otherwise would view themselves as superior to the Imperials, and vice versa. Equilibrium was important if they sought to defeat the Alliance.

And though she noticed the spiritual oddity of the stormtrooper, she said nothing of it before chuckling. "Maybe next time we should look more seriously into gateways."

 

[Sinestra]

And yet, you live, Sinestra thought but did not voice as she caught the bacta canister, applying its contents on wounds Onrai's crystallized techniques had missed. The pain subsided, but the Dark Jedi knew that would only be temporary. There was also the near-catatonic exhaustion to struggle against.

Again, her mindeye caught glimpses of something strange -- a shadow wrapping itself around the ethereal form of the Darktrooper.

Once was a coincidence, twice was not.

"We cannot wait for nightfall, Onrai ." Sinestra said, her eyes still fixated on the mysterious Darktrooper, "I want Sion's head." she stated through gritted teeth, then after a moment of silence conceded, "...but I understand his reckoning may have to wait." she would not admit she was too weak presently to seek and destroy the warlord holed up in his impenetrable fortress; the helplessness enraged her.

"As an escort detail, you would've been briefed on the City extensively." she stepped closer to the trooper as if the proximity would allow her to further discern what exactly the Force was trying to tell her, then gestured, "Lead the way, ..." her words trailed off, expecting the Darktrooper to introduce his name.

Was it the Force guiding her or was it her unsated curiosity?

Aridius 'TK-1575'

 

[Amun]

ENEMIES: DARK EMPIRE | OPEN INTERACTION
ALLIES: SCION IMPERIALS

There was a mutual relationship of sorts between the Imperials and the Underworld on Ord Mantell. Crime would always find a way to flourish, so instead of destroying it the Imperial Warlord Scion learned to control it. Crime lords prospered in making deals with his government, thus allowing opportunities for other scoundrels and rogues. Men like Amun and other bounty hunters found endless employment by both the Imperials and the mafias.

Now their service was called upon once again as Scion betrayed the good faith of the Dark Empire’s delegation, entrapping political and military personnel on the planet. Fifty-five days of hunting loose ends, squeezing out the Dark Imperials from their nests; pressuring them until they collapsed. By anytime they’d break, or Scion’s forces would blunder and allow a window of opportunity for the enemy.

The Kyuzo caught a couple of stragglers, exhausted Stormtroopers with fractured armor and only their sidearms available to their person. He was quick to neutralizing them killing both with his bowcaster. Free from the tormented fifty-five days of battle.

Nothing personal.

Just good business.

 

[Aridius 'TK-1575']

ARIDIUS TK-1575 'CRIMSON'
HEAVY TROOPER
TAGS: Sinestra Onrai

"Those who ask for mercy are too weak to deserve it."
― DARTH BANE

"THEY WANT US TO WAIT." Crimson didn't seem to mind Onrai either; he seemed to value their company. Or perhaps the Darktrooper understood that only in numbers could they make it out of this. Crimson's gaze turned down the walkway of the City, remembering the layout that he was briefed on. Within the visor of his helmet, he quickly pulled up a layout of the City. "VIPS WOULD HAVE BEEN ESCORTED TO LZ SPARROW. LIKELY OVERRUN, BUT GOOD START POS."

The LZ was likely overrun, meaning the VIPs in question would have been taken to a secure location. The cogs worked inside the Darktrooper's internal machine until his fateful companion whispered into his ear.

These two wield the Force, their senses are more tuned than yours.. Befriend them..
Something we both agree on.​

"DARKTROOPER TK-1575, CALLSIGN CRIMSON. FOLLOW ME." He lifted his left wrist, a holographic map omitting before the trio that was left amidst the bodies. Utilizing his helmet interface, it showed a detailed layout of the City- and, with designated waypoints, that would be the quickest way to what he could assume to be the remnants of LZ Sparrow.

Take the rubble to the left; the crossroad to the east is covered by a marksman.
Noted.​

A quick adjustment is made to the route, the new waypoint blinking as it auto-adjusted course as they walked. "SAFER." Is all the robotic voice of Crimson communicated to the two. How did he know? Who knows. Then the Darktrooper heaved his Heavy Cannon and began to walk. Not caring if the two followed him or not. Survive. Kill. Survive. Kill. That was the duty of a Darktrooper, and that is all Aridius cared for. He forgot why he enlisted so long ago in the Stormtrooper Corps of NIO. Was it patriotism? Was it because this galaxy is blighted by disorder?

Only the blaster matters now, and the CRIMSON mess it leaves behind.

 

[Onrai]

Sinestra Aridius 'TK-1575'

"Patience is key, my dear seer." Onrai said. "So long as Sion dies in time, we win."

The blonde stood up, listening to the Darktrooper - was he one of hers, or another sort of darktrooper in question? Regardless, the Imperials were there together and would be until the end. She gave an order through the comms to get the remaining survivors of her own unit that had been deployed here together, and soon enough the survivors joined the trio, armed and armored as best as they were.

"We have enough to make a breakthrough to the landing zone, presuming they don't call in an airstrike on us." Onrai pointed out. "Though only one of the droid troopers is in full working order. One's missing an arm and the other has a dead energy shield, but they're the heaviest fire support we really have." The entire circumstances of what had happened here on Ord Mantell had caused the more mortal parts of this manifestation to ponder back to her days as a designer of arms and armor - the Dark Empire needed something better than the older suits of armor, something they could equip everyone with.

And if it could make her some extra money, why not?

 

[Aerarii Tithe]

VIP BUNKER // OLD MANTELL
Open to Interaction

Even deep within the VIP bunker, the sounds of battle were always present. The thick duracrete walls shook as another salvo of enemy rockets rained down on the Dark Empire’s position. Tithe subconsciously placed his hand over his cup of caf to protect it from falling debris. While the caf had long gone cold, it was one of the few luxuries that got him out of his cot each morning.

The Imperial Treasurer tapped a chain of inputs on his terminal, already knowing the result: connection failed. The enemy comms blackout was pervasive. Tithe rubbed his bloodshot eyes. While he’d charged the military cadre with sending out the call for help to rescue their men, his concern was with something more important - the markets. It had almost two solar months since the Aargauun had done a stock swap, and he dreaded to think how the IMP500 was performing without his guiding hand and insider trading.

He needed to get off this forsaken world.

“Has the, ahhh, illustrious Sinestra uncovered an escape route,” he asked bluntly one of the few surviving military aides, scratching at the busy beard that had grown out during the siege. The delegation to Old Mantell had come prepared to receive the world with open arms, not fight a months-long war of survival. “Well then, what are you waiting for, call them again!”

 

[Sinestra]

Callsign Crimson.

She noted, unwanted memories of another life washing over her mind; an Alliance Marines task force Jedi Knight Halsia Myr had once guided through a myriad of Maw traps laid out across the Namadii Corridor. Callsign Crimson. Fifty-five days in this hell hole had embrittled the mental dams fending the turbulent oceans of time.

Mustering enough will, Sinestra shoved the images away.

The Dark Jedi glanced at Onrai's droid troopers converging to join the rag-tag band of survivors. She stepped over scorched bodies, their armors melted into flesh, and wondered how realistic the entity's proposition was. Perhaps her cosmic tribulations gave her a perspective incomprehensible to mortals.

Crimson stood as somewhat of a stark contrast to Onrai. The Darktrooper emitted a dichotomous presence - one part marched on ahead purposeful as an automaton rather than a driven being. And yet, the other part was as primordial as the first stars to dot the universe.

Her vambrace shook, drawing her attention. With the press of a button, a holographic image of a disheveled military aide materialized, flickering intermittently with bursts of static.

<<Lord Sinestra, this is Prefect Talmont on behalf of the, ahhh, estemeed Imperial Treasurer Aerarii Tithe .>> the man man spoke in an unnaturally stilted manner, almost as if he was attempting to emulate someone else. Sinestra waited, but the man said nothing more before shakily turning to someone else in his company and scratching the back of his head in embarrassment, <<Apologies, Sir, but what was, ahhh, your intended message?>>

The seer raised an eyebrow.

Onrai Aridius 'TK-1575'

 

[Ellayina L'lerim]

Torture and Interrogation Officer and Agent

Information

Objective: Escape from the Planet
Location: Mantell City, Ord Mantell
Equipment: 2x Sunfury Pistol | Light Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger || Cloaking Device | 5x ASBF Probe Droid || Empyrean gland || OPBC-01m
Tag: Kazian Blackwood [direct tag] | Sinestra | Aridius 'TK-1575' | Thomas Barran | Amun | Aerarii Tithe | Open

"Galactic Common" | <"High Nelvaanian"> | ["Essonian"] | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

We were both tired, exhausted and injured. I tried not to show any sign of it. Maybe it was mostly my bloodline that had this pride and such in me, and not only because of the teaching and upbringing causes. Or maybe it was both. When Kaz spoke, I glanced at him, only thinking for a moment about what he said. I knew he was right and I should take every moment to relax. If I didn't, I risked being caught with a better chance of being caught the next time they found us and had to run again. On the other hand...

"I don't have that luxury. At least not right now, not in this situation." I snarled a little at the answer.

Not really because I was worried if I sat down, I wouldn't even be able to stand up because of my injury. Or even very slowly, which again increases the risk of being caught, possibly both of us and not just me. I had a feeling that even if I ordered Kaz to leave me, he wouldn't. It was just a hunch I hoped I would never have to find out. I didn't want to stay here and die here or be a prisoner. I still had a lot of plans for what I wanted in the future. And that really didn't include dying here. And I couldn't stop there. I had in my bloodline the stubbornness that could get us killed.

When Kaz finally stepped up to me to see what was out there, he put his hand on my shoulder. I didn't really like people touching me without my permission, so I cringed. It was only because of the tiredness and pain that I didn't hit him instinctively, as a form of attack and defence, as I had been taught to do back then. If all this is over and we get out alive, my report will state that you can now work on your own and no further investigation or supervision is required. Whoever survived this hell deserved to work alone. And Kaz deserved to be trusted by the ISB.

"Yes, because if I don't, it means I give up and I could die. Do you have a better idea?" I wanted to ask angrily, but all I could muster was a cold and tired tone.

I wanted to shake his hand off my shoulder, but I was too tired to reach up and shake it off. I looked up at him defiantly and determinedly, not wanting him to see me as weak. I didn't know at that moment whether I hated him more or myself. Him, because of the way he saw me, or myself, because I wasn't able to completely suppress it. He could only see the flames of pain in my eyes, but the defiance was there too. I was taught in my worldly life to fend for myself, alone. I didn't want to give up that independence, I didn't want to need Kaz's help. I know that pride and pridefulness are not the best virtues at the moment, but I still didn't want to appear weak and vulnerable.

"You didn't stop either when you got hurt. Why should I? As long as I'm on my feet and I haven't passed out, I can fight and..." A little dizzy with pain and hunger, I clenched my teeth and leaned against the wall. "I'm just a little hungry and thirsty." I lied. "How's your injury?"

I changed the subject abruptly, because at least then I didn't have to talk about myself, which I didn't really want to do anyway.

 

[Kazian Blackwood]

TAGS: Ellayina L'lerim | Open

"Mine aren't nearly as bad as yours," I turned and leaned fully on the window sill. I wasn't going to fight her on this. I was too tired, and still even now seeing her as vulnerable as she was I was scared of her. Though I wasn't looking forward to her keeling over mid run in the days to come. The thought of it ran through my head, because then I'd be on my own. It was nice to relax for a moment, even though I knew it wouldn't last. The other survivors outside talked among themselves and eventually began to move.

"but maybe you're right." She was no good to the Empire dead, so living while she could was respectable. Her determination was... striking. The last two months had me wondering why she wasn't a top of the line field agent, and why it had taken being assigned to me to get her there. Whatever she was doing for the Interrogation Unit must have been good, and that only added to my confusion with her.

"We should follow them, huh?" I tossed a pointed finger up in the direction Sinestra and Aridius 'TK-1575' had begun to walk in. "Never thought dying for the Empire would mean dying by the Empire." I grumbled. Execution by Stormtrooper, a death I could have never imagined, seemed most likely in my mind as I walked away from Ellayina and went to grab my sac of meager belongings I'd been lugging around for weeks. Nothing more than a dwindling supply of food and medicine that restocking on was getting more difficult by the day. Feth... starvation might have been catchign up to us faster than Sion's men.