Junction A Rising Threat | GA and BOTM Junction of Reecee and O’reen

[Spirit of Faith]

A RISING THREAT​

To the Galactic North of The Alliance, reports have been troublesome. Intel initially reported a fanactical group, spawned from the depths of the Unknown Region. The Alliance brushed it to the side, expecting the uprising to die, as most in recent history have. Ignored while the Alliance continued their fight with the Sith Empire, the Brotherhood of the Maw only grew stronger. With strength came boldness. Frequent raids, including one that took place on Jakku and other planets among the Starbird Trade Spine, have attracted attention. The Galactic Alliance and The Brotherhood of the Maw engage in a dangerous dance as tensions spike.

Objective I - Interception
With raids from the Brotherhood a growing concern, and the induction of Carratos into the fold, Alliance Command has ordered patrols along the Namadaii corridor and its vicinity as a precautionary measure. Frustrations have heightened in recent days. Reports of unidentified threats eluding our forces have been a common occurrence. Despite our ships making their way through the sector at least once a day, several vessels have come under fire, their goods stolen and their crew left for dead. A segment of the Alliance fleet has been dispatched to track down the Brotherhood’s heathen raiders and deliver justice unto them.

Objective II - One of Us
In an attempt to get ahead, the Galactic Alliance dispatches SIA agents to deploy undercover and infiltrate the Brotherhood forces. Sent to the Goshen War camp, they will pose as new recruits in order to gain information about Brotherhood tactics, behavior, and future plans. It is critical to the mission to blend in and make connections to ensure success. Agents are expected to befriend the marauders conducting their training and indoctrination- only to use them to further the mission.

Objective III - Cat and Mouse
Jedi Knights Dagon Kaze and Ilian Kastle have returned from the Holy City, reporting their findings to the circle. While the leaders of the New Jedi were torn in the call for action, as much of our order is worn down from the battle with the Sith, the leaders of the Brotherhood have begun flaunting. Holofeeds with the torture of prisoners and false information fed to our shadows have spurred action. Striketeam Skywalker has assembled and deployed to the Holy City, hoping to free those captured. While the Jedi weave through the mazes of the citadel, the Brotherhood prepares to bring their trap to fruition. The two will meet in a bloody clash on the bridges above the bowels of the Citadel, fighting for their lives, and their ideology.

As some seek justice, others seek hidden treasures. Their commandeering habits have given the station a plethora of wealth, both ancient and new. Seek out what you may, but be mindful of the zealots who fill the city. Their heresy is known to be infectious.​

 

[Alars Keto]

Objective 2: One of Us
Location: Goshen War Camp, Lao-Mon
Tags: Open

The ruined capital of Lao-Mon laid before his eyes stretching on for miles. Ramshackle buildings and hobbled together structures littered the horizon as far as they eye could see. A monumental symbol of the Brotherhood's grip over the Shi'ido and a symbol to inspire fear in all those who entered here.

His eyes scanned along the battlements of the marauder camp, one of six within the confines of Goshen. He sat among the proud Chosen of Maestus , who had soared lately in power and prestige. Her ranks now swelled and rivaled even that of the mighty Zachariel Steelblood 's Bloodsworn. Kryll took a long drag off the lit cigarra, savoring the sweetened herb as his eyes fell upon the massive wooden gates.

The lieutenant had been assigned here for a simple purpose, to bring in the new ranks of slaves and oversee progress on the Goshen front far from the war effort encroaching on Chiss Space. The work of despoiling Lao-Mon seemed to have been moving quickly as each passing moon brought in more workforce, fueling the Brotherhood's military machine with raw resources as they tore apart the forests and devoured the planet for what they could salvage.

The marauder sighed as he took another puff, it had not been too long ago since he wasn't here as a member of Prax Elvros 's Warriors. How things change..

The sounds of whipped slaves marching off sounded throughout the air, music to his ears..

 

[Ssloak-Goa]

Objective 3: Cat and Mouse
Location: The Holy City's Depths
Tags: Open​

"You.. deny?" the witch hisses as he circles one of his newer associates. The human, dressed in thick red robes which cast a shadow across his features stands stock still, whether from fear or respect is unknown.. but it is most likely a mixture of the two. "You deny this mistake? Cast it away from you as if it does not belong to your wretched fingers?" Ssloak-Goa would hiss further, his circling coming to a stop nearby a stone table in the dimly lit room. The stone walls, cast in shadow like the human's face, were covered in small dimly glowing runes which brightened slightly as the witch spoke. From the table's surface Ssloak-Goa's boney claws would remove the cracked hilt of a Dread Blade the inscriptions dead and lifeless, the sith magicks having since been put out by this initiates mistake.

Attempting to turn it on, the pitiful but fleeting glow given off by the handle served only to illuminate the light fog pooling around their feet. "Your blunder cost your fellows days of sweat.. Of nicks and scars.." The blade falls from Ssloak-Goa's loosened fingers, the echo of steel against stone echoing hollowly across Ssloak-Goa's personal section of the holy city. It was here his cult would manufacture the Dread Blades and other minor artifacts to be distributed to the Brotherhood. Once again Ssloak-Goa would circle his apprentice "Your lie is.. smart. But I am smarter. I see through the mist you cast in my eyes.. I.. See.. You."

Turning on the man, Ssloak-Goa's fingers would suddenly enlighten in blazing green fire, the fire soon shooting forward and enveloping the now screaming man as over the next few seconds he would burn, leaving on charred robes pooled on the floor. Tilting his head up to glare at the remains down his snout the witch thing would snarl.

Walking out of the small room and into only a slightly larger central plaza where three other initiates sit waiting the creature's tongue would poke from his lips, licking the right side of his face, mucus mixing with slime as the tongue slips back between his lips and his eyes settle upon one of the unlucky three. "You are nex-"

He would pause, tilting his head to the right slightly as if listening to the whispers of some phantasm not seen by any other. "You are all free.. Pray I find you not. I will give you a head start.. I sense bigger prey is afoot."

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Objective:3 Cat and Mouse
Allies: TK-818 Inferious / Maw Forces
Enemies: Strike Team Skywalker/ Jedi Knights

It had come to it at last, with the Alliance, even most of the galaxy too preoccupied with the Sith Empire and the Bryn to slowly recognize a new threat coming from beyond the borders of known space. The Brotherhood of the Maw was quickly gaining traction. With new forces being added to the collective as well as rumors of a massive warship worthy of the Maw themselves. Now had arrived a time when the Maw were getting more bold. Like the Nihil forebears before them. They would not let any foreign power continue to edge closer to wild space, and even with such expansions were rife for raiding and conquest.

The half dead man known as Kyrel Ren was growing impatient, he had observed but had longed to test his blade against fresh opponents. It did not help that the same voice. That dark lullaby had spoken to him once again. A voice he had heard from the Unknown Regions when the First Order he knew fell. For years he tried to search for its source but found nothing. Now that same voice stoked the fires of ambition within him. Sowing the seeds for the Master of the Knights of Ren to take control of this barbaric horde to unleash upon the galaxy. No longer serving another master as he had done since he was a young man.

But as all things were big things had small beginnings. For now he played his part, still continuing to serve the Heathen Priests and the shadowy figure known as Solipsis. If not begrudgingly of course, now he stood clad in his dark armor reminiscent of his obsession with the long dead Sith Darth Vader. The red cracks of his helm glowed among the lighting of the Holy City. He stood on one of the levels. Biding his time now.

Waiting for when the Jedi would come to him. The last time the Jedi infiltrated the holy city. He watched, observed as one brute attacked them. Watching out of amusement and curious it’s. This time was a different situation. He was notified of the Alliance wishing to stop the Maw, but to rescue those they had kept within the city. When word reached his ears of a Jedi strike team on the way. Kyrel let out the laugh of a madman and now had stood here among the shadows. Waiting for the arrival of the Jedi and for the chance of the dead man to reveal himself at last. But he was not alone. Who stood beside him was his two loyal Knights of Ren waiting like two hungry dogs to be unleashed upon their prey. Even as the anticipation was killing him, he waited for the firsts signs of Jedi Knights to appear before him. Killer instinct and bloodlust at the ready. A dark aura reaching out through the force as if as he stood was only shadow.

 

[Aaran Tafo]

Objective III
Tags: Open​

He always figured he'd end up back here in one way or another. The Brotherhood of the Maw's 'Holy' city. Up there with Ziost in terms of the least hospitable and friendly places in the galaxy. An entire culture born of murder, torture and pillaging. A barbarous cult founded on pain and death. It was pretty clear that the Warden of Peace was not a fan of this place. It was during times like this that the lack of eyes became an even greater handicap than before. He could not distract himself with sight, and instead could hear and feel the pain and suffering that permeated every inch of this vessel.

Redemption was always the goal of the Jedi. But sometimes death was a release, a mercy. Those who returned to the Force were free of pain, of suffering, of want. Becoming one with all things and finding the peace they deserved. He wondered during times like this if he should grant the many people suffering here mercy? Or if he should leave them as they pain was ultimately a temporary and transient thing. It was an ethical debate he would have to ruminate over.

Shaking his head, he pulled his hood closer over his face. Minimizing his profile as he moved from shadow to shadow. Allowing the Force to guide his steps as he stayed out of sight of the various patrols that wandered about.

He could feel something gnawing at him. A thread of the Force that he needed to follow. His intent coming here was to inflict sabotage. Free slaves and gather intel. If he could do so without getting into a fight, then all the better. But otherwise, he'd prefer to stay unnoticed. He doubted he would, he could feel conflict somewhere ahead of him. This thread in the Force leading him onwards towards some clash. Fingers gripping on the hilt of Arete, he stopped hiding, stepping clearly out of the shadows as his boots rang on the metal of the bridge below him. His stride calm and casual, as if he were on a simple stroll and not walking headlong into a den of vipers.

 

[The Mongrel]

Objective: 1 (Interception)
Location: Namadii Corridor, Ambush Spot
Tags: Open

With a last boom of his scattergun, the boarding action was over. The Mongrel coldly stepped over the body of the vessel's captain, the Rodian merchant's face frozen in a final scream of terror, and reached the controls. He deactivated the Dream of Enak's sublight engines, ending the ship's futile struggle against the Brotherhood tractor beams that had held it transfixed for the last half hour. In that time, marauders had stormed the heavy freighter's narrow corridors, killing or enslaving everyone they found. All too easy.

Soon, travelers would only brave the Namadii Corridor heavily escorted.

With a savage, broken-toothed grin, The Mongrel ripped away the hyperdrive control lever, pulling it straight off the control panel in a shower of sparks. He unscrewed the small, round head from the top of the lever, intended to make it easier to grip, and threw the rest of it aside. He strung this latest trophy onto his belt, alongside six others. The fruits of piracy had been good in the past weeks: a cruise liner's passengers made slaves, a mining vessel redirected to Gehinnom's forges, a hospital ship looted for drugs, and many more.

Now they had the Dream of Enak, and it provided a much different opportunity. The ship was a gas hauler loaded up with weapons-grade spin-sealed tibanna. That cargo was worth a small fortune, but that wasn't why the Brotherhood had targeted it; money wasn't the goal, after all. No, this tibanna would go to producing weapons to fuel the Maw's war machine. More importantly, however, it would disrupt the military-industrial complex of the Galactic Alliance, and draw their attention. They could not ignore this aggression.

For the past two weeks, the Brotherhood had hit targets all along the northern Namadii Corridor, striking quickly and vanishing with the spoils. They left only drifting, looted hulks in their wake. But this time, apparently by accident, they would linger just a little too long. The Galactic Alliance, already patrolling the corridor, would have their chance to intercept the marauders; the Dream of Enak had been allowed to send a distress signal, so it was only a matter of time now. And when the Alliance did strike, well, things would get interesting.

The Brotherhood could use some captured military vessels in its fleet.

The Mongrel sat in the captain's chair, putting his feet up on the sparking control console, and calmly reloaded his scattergun. Behind him, other marauders of the Bloodsworn Tribe dragged forward the few prisoners they had spared. The five sobbing crewmen, shackled at the wrists, ankles, and neck, were forced to their knees all along the bridge. "Shut them up," The Mongrel ordered, already tired of the loud weeping. The rough smack-crunch of a gun butt breaking a jaw convinced all of them to keep their tears at least a little quieter.

Now, to wait. Surely it wouldn't be long before the heroes arrived.

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Objective: 2 (One of Us)
Location: Lao-mon, Goshen War Camp
Tags: Alars Keto , Open

Goshen War Camp was chaos, but it was organized chaos. The fortress sat like an ugly, bloodsucking parasite on the ruined flesh of Goshen, once the Shi'ido capital city, now little more than a half-demolished ghost town. The war camp had been built by the marauders who conquered the planet, and they had built it for function over form. There was nothing of beauty in its jagged scrap metal walls, nor in the choking clouds of pollution that its heavy industrial processors belched into Lao-mon's skies, but both served their purpose.

Tu'teggacha, taskmaster of the Brotherhood, stood atop the fortress battlements and surveyed the ravaged lands beyond. Lao-mon's dense jungles were being ripped down, the trees turned to carbon pulp and nutrient extract for the war factories and cloning vats. The planet's surface was being strip mined, every molecule of useful mineral extracted to build weapons and starships. The local species, sentient and otherwise, were being tracked down and broken to the Brotherhood's purpose. Tu'teggacha looked down at all this, and he saw that it was good.

Turning from this vista of horrific despoliation, the Ebruchi walked further along the battlements, seeking out Alars Keto . The marauder was an officer among the ranks of Maestus 's Chosen, one of the largest and most powerful tribes in the Maw's confederation. Of course, that status meant little to Tu'teggacha; the taskmaster was largely outside the hierarchy of tribes and warlords, respected for his vile but effective skills rather than any high position. He was here to take charge of the new slaves that Kryll was bringing in, the spoils of war.

"Our greetings to the Chosen," Tu'teggacha said as he approached, his facial tendrils drifting in disturbing patterns around his puckered, ugly mouth. "It would seem that the western conquests have been fruitful. So many new slaves... We will be able to increase production significantly." The Ebruchi rubbed his knobby, long-fingered hands together in anticipation, eager to turn them to the dark work of... motivating this new crop of forced laborers. Their contributions would be needed to prepare for the coming battles.

And there would be many coming battles. The blood of the galaxy itself would run.

Reaching down, the taskmaster fingered the neuronic whip coiled at his belt. His tendrils drifted into the Ebruchi equivalent of a smile, which was enough to make any human without a strong stomach vomit up breakfast. He smelled of blood and mangled flesh... partly because those things were his favorite diet, preferably cut from a still living slave. He liked his meat to wriggle on the way down, and screams of pain and terror were excellent seasoning. "Tell me of the raids. Where were these slaves captured? It may help me in the process of breaking them."

 

[TK-818]

Objective 3: Cat and Mouse
Location: Tu'teggacha 's Dungeon Domain, Holy City of Gehinnom
Tags: Open

​

Onyx armor clattered in the dusk ridden halls, the faint crimson illumination of light gleaming from the outlined floor-meeting-wall cast a ominous glow over his armor and that of his comrades as they marched. The bowels of the Holy City were the domain of Tu'teggacha , Taskmaster and Breaker of Minds. Rows upon rows of laser gate cells, layers upon layers of bridges overlooking a great chasm, and a center keep sprawling from the Abyss as crimson illuminated steam rose as if from the pits of Hell itself.

Sinh marched in stride with his brother-in-arms Inferious and in the shadow of their master, the infamous Kyrel Ren . The luminescent blood-red welds of Sarrassian Iron glowed amidst the Cortosis Helm of the mighty Master of the Knights of Ren as he led them further into the sprawling dungeons onto the bridgework overlooking the chasm.

Thud.

The vibro-halberd slammed down against the durasteel flooring as the Knight of Ren scanned his surroundings. He could sense them nearby, the trap was set for the Jedi and their precious Alliance. The Dark Voice had foreseen this coming, drawing in the New Jedi Order by dangling the feeble scavengers of Jakku before their eyes, unaware most were already deep into indoctrination. The follies of Hope blinded them.

Sinh silently surveyed the area, the air was heavy and thick with the miasma of the Dark Side of the Force, the screams and howls of prisoners reverberated from the very walls as he turned to his master, Kyrel Ren . His voice muffled and distorted as he spoke, a rare occurrence in itself. "I feel their presence against the Shadow, they can't be far."

 

[CETCOM]

Location | Somewhere along the Naamadi Corridor
Objective | Interception [Engage the GADF]
Tags [Allies] | The Mongrel
Tags [Enemies] | Open to Opposition​

A Single GR-75 Medium Transport escorted by A Singular Nebulon L2 Escort Frigate and 5 A-Wing Squadrons [2 Deployed , 3 within the Escort Frigate] slowly moved along the Naamadi Corridor with the GR-75 Medium Transport transporting a considerable amount of Foodstuffs headed towards the Core Worlds. Within the past 2 Weeks , the Brotherhood of the Maw had launched constant raids along the Naamadi Corridor with Marlon Sularen having in-directly partaken in the Raids via the newly assembled Maw Irregular Fleet , which was the Naval Arm of the Hand of Purification , a Paramilitary Group Fanatically Loyal to Marlon Sularen whom it's members simply referred as the Hidden Leader [Not knowing Sularen's True Identity].

Overseeing the movements of the Maw Irregular Fleet from the Bilbringi Shipyards where he awaited the arrial of the Alliance whom he assumed would integrate the Planet within the next few months , Sularen had quickly gotten word of the Mobilization of GADF Assets to combat the Brotherhood of the Maw and had positioned the Maw Fleet in orbit of the near-by world of Noquivzor in preparation for the Ambush against the unsuspecting GADF Reinforcements. Today , Sularen would reveal the Hand of Purification and begin fighting his own Campaign against those who wised to see him erased from the pages of History.

Thus as the GR-75 and it's Escort slowly advanced throughout the Depths of Space a Single Crucifix-I Class Star Destroyer suddenly emerged from Hyperspace along with 2 Squadrons of Modified TIE/VX Vanguards , collectively known as the Crimson Linings, who were a Rogue Fighter Squadron that once served the Old Galactic Alliance only to be betrayed by them during the fight against the One Sith. As 2 additional Starfighter Squadrons [Comprised of TIE/EN Enforcers] were released from the Crucifix Star Destroyer just as the enemy force released it's own Fighters.

While low in Numbers , both TIE/VX and TIE/EN's had heavier Armament then the GR-75's Starfighter Escort of A-Wings whom were more Agile with lower Weapons. Thus as the A-Wings and TIES Clashed , the A-Wings began to suffer from heavy loses having only a minor advantage in Maneuverability. With the numbers of A-Wings slowly dwindling , the GR-75 turned around in an attempt to escape while the Escort Frigate moved forth to cover it's retreat. However as the GR-75 prepared to jump into hyperspace , Crimson Leader and her wingmen , Crimson 2 and 3 fired a volley of Mag-Pulse Torpedos that disabled the Medium Transport at the last second preventing it from jumping into Hyperspace.

With their only chance at escape halted , the GR-75 quickly sent a distress signal to nearby GADF Forces informing them that they had been attacked and their escort was getting teared to pieces and as their Communications started to get jammed they begged for help , fearing for their lives having heard the stories of the fate that awaited the prisoners that the BotM took. And as their distress signal was blocked from interference from a trio of Donnager-Class Star Destroyers parked in orbit of Noquivzor along with the rest of the Fleet , the Crew of the GR-75 could only watch as their Escort Frigate was annihilated by the Crucifix Star Destroyer and their A-Wing Fighter Escort nothing but a bunch of floating hulks of metal in space.

Meanwhile onboard the Crucifix , a Sentinel Droid watched from the bridge of the 1.8 Kilometer Ship as the Escort Frigate was torn to pieces by the Main Batteries of the Star Destroyer. As the Captain of the Crucifix informed the Droid of the recent developments made by the Crucifix and it's Fighters , the Droid turned around to reveal a live hologram of Lord-Imperator Marlon Sularen , who commanded the Maw Irregular Fleet from distance at Bilbringi , where he had established a temporary headquarters in preparation for the inevitable Galactic Alliance integration to Bilbringi. "Sir what should we do with the Medium Transport" the Captain asked. "Has it sent a distress signal to the GADF?" Sularen asked. The Captain simply nodded to the Sentinel Droid confirming that the GR-75 had initiated the trap.

"Very well then" Sularen said as an evil grin appeared on his face."Destroy the Medium Transport. I have no use for it.In the meantime have the Crimson Lingins regroup with the rest of the Fleet back on Noquivzor and recall all of our Fighters for refuelling. It's about time we spring the trap" And with that , the Batteries of the Crucifix opened fire on the disabled GR-75 which as blown apart in a matter of Seconds. Soon enough a GADF Task Force would arrive , and they too would met their demise although this time , Sularen had something special in mind. Something the Galactic Alliance would never forget.

 

[Teica Giraan]

[Location: Along the Naamadi Corridor- ANV Resolution(Iblis-class Missile Frigate) - C.O's Office]
[Objective 1]
[Commander Giraan standing by]
​

-and after all is said and done. Ladies and Gentlemen, Officers and Crewmen, I present to you...Captain...Teica Giraan!

Applause rang out through the vastness of her thoughts, while she could only sit in silence. Teica's hands were weak, unable to stop the large, gold-lined rectangular plaque as it fell to the table. A deafened Clash of metals, then a gradual silence to both her mind and the minimalistic office. Cold, dead silence.

ANV Peacemaker. Negotiator-class Light Cruiser. Galactic Alliance.

Our Hopes, Our Dreams, Our Need for Peace lives on. Lives On.

The sound made a return, but not as joy-filled cheers, not as clumsiness-induced laughing, but as loud screams and the shattering of metal. Then...Impacts. Muffled tearing of alloys ran in low grandiose booms.

The Admiralty was playing a cruel joke on her, letting the commander once again set her eyes on the Peacemaker's dedication plaque. Just when she finally got over it.

She never got over it.

There was an almost comical sense to the Commander's Office, a moderately sized white room with sharp rectangles for walls, save for a squished semicircle behind. Small tables, plants, and other distractions lined the edges sporadically, comforting her at times, but choosing to mock the Corellian at every opportunity with the reason for their existence alone. Distractions. A randomized assortment of distractions to take her mind off her troubles, but they only served to reinforce problems. Teica kept them anyway.

Peacemaker. A fitting name for a ship of her track record. I think you'll do rather well, Captain.

Good luck.

The commander slid the plaque to the side, setting a clear space on the decorated wooden table. Chirp. The intercom sounded.

"All hands to action stations. Set Condition 2 throughout ship. Again, Set to Condition 2."

Her hand rushed to the commlink embedded in the desk.

"This is the Commander, what's wrong?"

"Fleet's picked up a distress call from a freighter in the area, under heavy fire. They've lost their escort frigate."

"On my way."

She was out the door within the minute.

 

[Maestus]

Objective 3: Cat and Mouse
Location: Dungeon
Tag: Aaran Tafo

She was not often on the Holy City. Especially now. She spent most of her time on Crakull, with directing the rebuilding efforts. She had a vision in her mind's eye. Now to ensure it was executed perfectly.

Rebuilding Crakull is actually why she was here today, making her way to the lair of Tu'teggacha . She needed more slaves. The ones currently involved in rebuilding were being worked to death, so fresh meat was essential to staying on time. And that brought her here, into the dark, oppressive domain of Tu'teggacha .

She strode through the halls and corridors. Slaves and everyone cleared a path for her. They knew better, because if she had to tell them to move, it would mean their death. More than one slave or marauder has found death by her hands on the Holy City.

As she turned a corner, she stepped on a bridge. Her boots clanged off the metal grating. Before her boot hit the grating though, she felt something. A gnawing at her soul and mind. A familiarity resonated through her. He was here.

 

[Alars Keto]

Objective 2: One of Us
Location: Goshen War Camp, Lao-Mon
Tags: Tu'teggacha


"Aye, well met Taskmaster."

The marauder lieutenant nodded as he took another puff of his cigarra, his eyes scanning the horizon once more. He exhaled and shifted his gaze over to the Breaker-of-Minds, "The Chosen have been busy, the western reaches of Maw Space have been picked clean. We are moving on to greener pastures."

He raised a brow, the Ebruchi seemed to relish in the details, basking in the dark specifics when it came to raids. It made sense, one who brought so much pain to others must of absolutely thrived on hearing tales of his broken slave-soldiers kill, maim, and burn everything in their wake. "Near Oriam-Mei, scattered colonies in uncharted worlds. Commercial craft, smugglers, pirate remnants. You name em'. They've come from ere' corner of our western expanse toward those Eternal Empire folk."

He raised his hand and extended it outward in invitation, "Let's take a look at the new stock shall we?"

 

[Constantine Oliva]

Spoiler: Corvette Line 253

20 warrior-IIs
7 Avalon Corvettes
3 Nagata- class gunships

Patrol duty had just gotten a lot more exciting. Rumors were abound concerning a group known as the Brotherhood of the Maw. The Alliance didn’t know much about them, only that they were aggressive. Though I’d tried to learn about them, I still believed they were little more than a particularly organized force of pirates. The 253rd had been ordered to patrol near an area they were known to be active. We’d gone where we’d been ordered.


Staring into the emptiness of space got boring after so long. Patrol was a far cry from charging Sith dreadnoughts over Bastion or participating in the final Ambush over Byss, but it brings men home. The last casualty the Line had taken was when an Ensign’d fallen and broken his arm on the Toad. Pirate frigates and fighters stood little chance against even a small section of the line, let alone the full force. So, we kept on.


The weeks between action gave me plenty of time to think. Various plans for if we did ever come up against an actual threat--I’d had ideas for taking out even a lone star destroyer--had been born during the long flights between the stars. But I’d also been thinking about Byss and the war with the Sith Empire. The Alliance was at war with the Sith over religious reasons, as far as I understood. The Jedi had been spearheading the fighting. But because of that war, Byss had been attacked. I’d only seen one other ship fully associated with the GADF over Byss, though the vast defenses of the Lord-Imperator and his Imperialist allies had been enough to save the planet. Though Byss was two years ago, and the Alliance hadn’t been attacked since, the continued fighting in the Stygian Campaign concerned me.

But who would attack the Alliance? The Eternal Empire had been cowed by the defeat at Byss, while the other threats to the Alliance were more focused on the Silver Jedi and New Imperials, not to mention their fighting amongst themselves. And the Brotherhood of the Maw...I doubted they had ships much larger than the Hawk.



My concentration was broken by my comms officer.

“Sir! Picking up a distress signal from nearby! GR-75 says it’s been attacked by a large and unknown vessel!”

“Alright, signal the captains. Tell them to be ready for battle. Do we have coordinates?”

“Yessir! And we do, sir.”

“Send them out. We’ll jump at the same time.”


The stars turned from tiny points to blurred lines as the Warrior-II entered hyperspace. They weren’t far, but the jump would take a few minutes. Likely, it was pirates who lacked a large vessel. Hawk alone could probably handle it. But I wanted to be sure the pirates reaped the whirlwind of their attack. The whole line would annihilate a pirate fleet before it could run.

“Sir, moments after the distress signal went out it was cut off. I suspect the transport was destroyed.”

That could have been a problem. If the ship was destroyed that quickly, the pirates could have some numbers to them.

I sighed as the Line began to come out of hyperspace. This shouldn’t take long, but I wanted to be ready to give emergency orders, should they be necessary. I doubted they would be. Pirates would probably scatter the moment the line emerged from hyperspace.

Kark, was I wrong. I didn’t need the sudden panic of the ensign on sensors, nor the sensor map by my own command chair. I could see the massive ship, dominating the view from the bridge’s viewport. My face paled as the reality of the situation hit. But I’d been trained to handle surprises and the shock only lasted for the briefest of moments. I slammed the button on my command chair that opened a channel to the rest of the Line’s bridges.


“All ships, pull back! We’ll regroup outside the Star Destroyer’s range!”

The thirty corvettes rushed to turn about, rushing to escape the battleship that had evidently attacked the transport. Luckily they came out of hyperspace on the edge of the ship’s range, and with their speed they’d soon be momentarily safe. A handful, including the Hawk, fired a few shots at the beast, but it was unlikely they’d do much.

CETCOM Teica Giraan The Mongrel​

 

[Anabasa]

Open to interaction
Maestus TK-818 Ssloak-Goa Aaran Tafo Kyrel Ren​

The High Priestess had been busy. Though she herself had not joined any of the recent raids, her followers had. They’d brought her prisoners and slaves, which she had taken to her personal domain within the Holy City. Their agony was exquisite. She was careful to preserve the few force sensitives brought before her, preferring to convert many of them rather than outright killing them or throwing them to the slave pits. Children and the untrained were easily broken and indoctrinated, but she’d recently been given an interesting new toy. A Jedi knight, still stalwart in his resistance. The poor Nautolan would soon break.


Most slaves and the children Anabasa were given to her servants and followers to break or convert, but a prize like a Jedi couldn’t be passed up. The shapechanger had already forced her way into the Jedi’s mind, reading his thoughts and memories. He’d had a padawan, who’d died at the hands of the Brotherhood. She entered the Jedi’s holding cell while he slept, shifting her form to match the Jedi’s deceased Padawan. Now appearing as an Ithorian, the insane Sith woke the Jedi with a tiny, precise burst of lightning.

“Master?” Her voice had shifted to match the Padawan’s, “Where were you?”

The Nautolan was shocked, to say the least. Anabasa continued to worm her way into his mind, using his guilt over his dead Padawan to her advantage. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, she altered her form, allowing wounds to form. After that, she slowly shifted to her preferred guise. She could tell the Jedi was nearly broken. After he could was broken, he could be turned. Another session, perhaps? The Priestess wanted to savour his shattering. She left, her laughter echoing in the tormented Jedi’s mind.

She had other projects to attend to, including the training of the converted force users. But not now. Now she had a trap to spring. Her personal transport sped across the clustered streets of the Holy city. Jedi had come to liberate the prisoners of Jakku. The fools. Whatever Jedi had come would soon perish, or be claimed by the Maw. The Warpriest’s form changed, forming what appeared to be a humanoid figure. This new form was Tall, with a black keratinous shell forming the head. Similarly dark, many lensed eyes formed, blending into the “Helmet.” Dozens of small holes allowed her to breathe. Two horns twisted from the back of the head and hooked over the front. The center of the horns were completely transparent, making the heavy tips appear to float. A cloak of darkened, leather-like skin which was attached at the neck, encompassed the human-like body.


Anabasa, the Warpriest herself, was ready for the fight. She wielded no lightsaber nor blade, for the Force was her weapon. If she had a mouth to smile with in this form, she would.

 

[CETCOM]

Location | Somewhere along the Naamadi Corridor
Objective | Interception [Engage the GADF]
Tags [Allies] | The Mongrel
Tags [Enemies] | Teica Giraan | Constantine Oliva ​

Through the Sentinel Droid onboard the Prophet , Sularen watched from his quarters at Bilbringi as the the first Alliance reinforcements arrived , a Fleet of 30 Corvettes in which the Lord-Imperator recognized immediately , the 253rd under Commodore Constantine Oliva , who had fought alongside Sularen at Byss. The Corvettes quickly withdrew away from the range of the Crucifix which led Sularen to sigh in relief. Even though he was committing heinous acts in the name of the Brotherhood of the Maw in order to advance his agenda he still held sympathy to those who shared his views and supported his goals and showed an unwillingness to turn on his allies no matter what circumstances unless they betrayed him.

No other ship had arrived other then the 30 Corvettes and alone these ships could swarm and overwhelm the larger Crucifix and thus it was smarter for the the large vessel to keep it's distance from the recent arrivals. Instead of pursuing the Corvettes as any other Bloodthirsty Individual would do , Sularen kept his distance intending to instead wait for any incoming Alliance Forces to engage him before setting the trap. The Captain of the Prophet who expected Sularen to give any orders stood beside him slowly running out of patience and eager to destroy the Galactic Alliance Task Force. "Sir , should we pursue them? It would be best it we wiped them out immediately instead of allowing them to build in their strength." the Captain recommended.

"No. We will hold position here." Sularen responded through the Sentinel Droid. "We will let the Alliance assemble what force they have even if they do it infront of us and then we'll summon the rest of the Maw Irregular Fleet. We will demonstrate to the Alliance that despite all the strength displayed by their Armies and Fleet , that they aren't invincible as they think and that they are just as flawed as the Sith Empire and any other Regime in the Galaxy."

And with that the Prophet maintained position waiting for any more Alliance Reinforcements to arrive. Once enough Forces had arrived Sularen would spring the Trap and unleash the full might of the Maw Irregular Fleet against the Alliance Forces gathered to stop his Task Force. The Alliance was weak and it was time they realized that their time as the Dominant Galactic Government in the Core Worlds wouldn't last long as the Hand of Purification stood ready to bring upon Judgement to this Alliance of Lies , Corruption and Deception once and for all.

 

[Teica Giraan]

[Location: Along the Naamadi Corridor- ANV Resolution(Iblis-class Missile Frigate) - Internalized C.I.C]
[Objective 1]
[Relevant to: CETCOM , Constantine Oliva ]
[Commander Giraan standing by]
​

I'm gonna miss you, Dara.

Me too, commander, Me too.

The Resolution swerved to starboard and brought another line of torpedo tubes to bear. Engines shut off for two long seconds while the warheads were thrown into their tubes, expelled from the ship's broadsides; and sent flying at the massive star destroyer. Two. Once again, the frigate's engine block lit up, and she ran back with the line of corvettes.

The turbolaser turrets were silent, with Teica instead opting to take advantage of the Resolution's missile complement and keeping a safe distance from the towering presence of the Crucifix.

Captain Zurna Lalhdene reporting for duty, Commander.

At ease, Captain. Welcome aboard.

The failing nature of the operation became apparent to her, not in agonized screaming, but in petrified silence. Ever nervous clicking and pushing of buttons echoed throughout the calm pale interior of the Resolution, while faces remained dutiful and stoic, but plagued with hesitation.

"Load a diamond boron missile," Teica finished a quick survey of the frigate's current missile complement.

"Have it target their largest concentration of main guns, Delay two seconds from a full spread of concussion missiles," The ship's first officer, Captain Lalhdene, chimed in and returned his hand to his headset, "I need all birds back in hanger, Now."

"Aye, sirs," The gunnery chief checked a few readouts, "Missiles loaded."

Pistons pumped, valves shut, munitions crewmen ran across deck. Mechanical arms bended and tucked away behind layers of durasteel, while the missiles slid into their tubes. Three. Internal hatches closed. Two. External hatches open. One. Fire.

The missiles lit up and escaped their prisons, a blue aura shooting out from behind them. Seven in all, later joined by the sharp, almost pyramid-like diamond-boron warhead; flying from a turreted launcher.

So, what's next, Teica?

The Resolution's engines dimmed themselves as the missile frigate began to burn retrograde to its previous course, slowing itself just enough for the fighters to taxi in. 10 A-wings passed through the shield gates, covered in torn metal as they hovered down. Landing gear extended from the ventral hulls, and technicians ran to take their places.

Ten out of twelve. She got lucky.

What do you fight for? Eh, Commander?

"Fighters all recalled, closing blast doors," Lalhdene turned his head to her.

What..do...you..fight for?

"Get me the Hawk."

"Patching you in, ma'am," The comms officer swiped across a keypad, before holding up a thumb.

I'm waaaaaaaiting.

"[Commodore Olivia, this is Resolution actual,]" Another wave of torpedoes fired off from the ship's missile tubes, "[Any suggestions?]"

The bridge shook ever so slightly as the Resolution's engines lit up once more, and she once again sped to catch up with the corvette line. Button presses grew more and more frantic, hesitation only grew in intensity, and errors began to show themselves in every section of the ship.

I asked a question, Commander. What Do You Fight For?

I fight for my Alliance.

 

[Zachariel Steelblood]

Objective 2
Tags: Alars Keto | Tu'teggacha
Allies: BotM
Enemies: GA​

War, something so common nowadays. While a blessing in some ways, it was just as much a curse. It meant there were fewer worthwhile opponents to face, and it meant those that existed were across the galaxy, rather than concentrated in one area. Thankfully enough, the Brotherhood was changing that. By becoming a true threat to the greater powers that be, they had to dedicate more time, resources, and most importantly, opponents to face them. And that meant more skulls for Zachariel to add to his collection, more planets to a list of conquered and destroyed planets. All in all, it was glorious, and it was bloody. The more they resisted the coming of death, the more joy Zachariel would take in their slaughter.

Aside from slaughter, Zachariel also participated much in the finer aspects of breaking the minds of outsiders. That being torture. By and large, Zachariel took from his own stock on Osseriton. Both for slaves to torture and break, as well as new soldiers to bring into the Bloodsworn. However, sometimes it was more worthwhile to receive stock from other sources. Taking from a single source was a great way to miss worthy slaves in other locations. For that reason, Zachariel had come to the Goshen War Camp to peruse the stock of new slaves. Largely, Zachariel's Bloodsworn took captured slaves to Osseriton, and only lesser warbands took their slaves to the war camp. Sometimes larger groups took their stock there however, as evidenced by the Chosen of Maestus this day.

Standing atop a small outcropping overlooking the camp, Zachariel watched impassively as countless new slaves were brought in. Partially Zachariel was watching for worthwhile specimens, partially he was watching high ranked individuals of other warbands. Amongst them were Kryll, and the Taskmaster himself, Tu'teggacha. They were not too far from one another, so it was an easy matter to observe them, and observe the slaves.

 

[The Mongrel]

Objective: 1 (Interception)
Location: Namadii Corridor, Ambush Spot
Tags: CETCOM , Constantine Oliva , Teica Giraan

Confirmation came over the comms within the hour: the Alliance naval response had come, but it'd come to Sularen's strike location. The Mongrel growled and ground his teeth. He supposed it made sense; the Hand of Purification had attacked a convoy, not just a single freighter, and that was bound to draw more attention. The Dream of Enak's cargo would be easily secured now, returned to the forges of Gehinnom. There, it would help light the fires that would burn down all that stood in the Brotherhood's way. Such was the will of the Dark Voice.

What The Mongrel couldn't figure out was Marlon Sularen himself. The man, in the marauder's eyes, was more similar to the likes of the Galactic Alliance than he was to the tribal Brotherhood; in fact, he'd fought beside the Alliance in the not-so-distant past. He still operated like an organized, regimented military man, with ranks and fleet groups and drill-honed discipline. Why had he come to join the Maw, the zealots bent on burning down the galaxy all around them? Why was he so determined to prove himself, to the point of a grand gesture like this ambush?

But the Voice had welcomed him, and it was not The Mongrel's place to question that.

"Take this wretched ship back to Rhand," he commanded. "The prisoners can go with it. Maybe they'll be worth something. The rest of you, disengage the tractor beams and prepare for hyperspace." The marauder snarled again, visions of the praise that would be heaped upon the Hand of Purification for this battle taunting him in his mind. "We won't let Sularen take all the glory." It had been too long since he had shed blood in a fight that presented an actuall challenge; things had been quiet, too quiet, since those thieving pirates had been slain.

Within minutes, The Mongrel was back on the bridge of the Festering Wound, a scavenged EF8K Nebulon K-class Escort Frigate refitted at Osseriton. It was the lead ship of his ragtag little wolfpack, boasting far more firepower than any merchant freighter could handle... and that was without the rest of the hunters. Beyond the viewport, he could see the Skor III - class Artillery Frigate they'd captured from a Croke defense fleet, along with the three Interceptor IV's they'd scavenged from the sands of Jakku. Not a threat to a dedicated Alliance fleet, but a terror to traders.

"Set a course for Sularen's ambush point. We will have our share of the blood and the spoils."

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Objective: 2 (One of Us)
Location: Lao-mon, Goshen War Camp
Tags: Alars Keto , Zachariel Steelblood

The taskmaster rubbed his knobby hands together as Kryll spoke, savoring the news. The western reaches were indeed becoming... dull for the Brotherhood. They had already captured almost all of the settled worlds there, leaving a buffer of uninhabited hinterlands between their claimed space and the governments of the wider galaxy. Only Oriam-Mei and the colonies surrounding it remained outside their control, and the Brotherhood used them like a farmer uses livestock. They bled them bit by bit, turning them into a steady stream of slaves and resources.

Eventually, Oriam-Mei would fall to them, but the isolated planet was not a threat OR a priority.

It was in the east that their destiny lay, among the rich colonies of the Chiss noble houses. A bounty of agriworlds and manufacturing centers, long kept safe by the vigilant Chiss Expeditionary Defense Force, would be theirs for the taking once the head of the serpent was cut off. The wealth they pillaged there would be the fuel for their drive beyond the Unknown Regions, into the rotting, complacent tangle of powers that squabbled over known space. War and death would make way for rebirth, and the galaxy would be made new again. It was their destiny.

As Kryll spoke, Tu'teggacha sensed another presence, one powerful in the Dark Side. His bulbous eyes swiveled to the ridge overlooking the camp, where he could see a distant figure surveying them. He knew that it could only be Zachariel Steelblood, warlord of the Bloodsworn, watching as they went about their tasks. He wondered what the powerful chieftain thought of Lao-mon; Steelblood ran his own domain on Osseriton far differently. Whatever his reasons for being there, Tu'teggacha vowed not to disappoint him. He would complete this task efficiently.

"Excellent," the taskmaster told Kryll. "I am eager to see them. Lead the way."

 

[Constantine Oliva]

Spoiler: Corvette Line 253

20 warrior-IIs
7 Avalon Corvettes
3 Nagata- class gunships

Teica Giraan CETCOM The Mongrel​

I breathed a sigh of relief as the Destroyer didn’t pursue. Was it waiting for more ships? It was impossible to know. Still, I was the highest ranking Alliance officer here, and this Star Destroyer was my responsibility. I had to handle it decisively, but be ready in case this was even more of a trap than the attack on the transport already was.


"Sir! An alliance frigate just jumped in!"

"Get me her captain!"

"She's already hailing us sir, patching through."

"[Commodore Olivia, this is Resolution actual, Any suggestions?]"

Teica Giraan. A name I’d heard on news broadcasts and speaking with fellow officers. One of the heroes of the Stygian Campaign, though she’d lost her ship at Ziost, it had been in an attempt to save countless alliance servicemembers. See got the job done, but I had reservations about her. She’d endangered her men a bit more than I would like.

“Captain! Pull out of that Star Destroyer’s range!”


“Once you’re out I need you to make a decision. We can knock out that destroyer, but we need to be careful. None of my ships can stand up to it’s firepower for long, but we’re fast enough to get to it’s rear if it's distracted. Your frigate is the only ship here that can do that and have a chance of surviving.”


I waited for a moment, allowing her to process what I’d just said. I spoke with a firmness and finality to my tone, but tried to be gentle.

“You have a duty to your crew just as much as you do the Alliance. If your shields begin to drop to dangerous level, pull out of range immediately. Ensure your navigators are ready to calculate a jump to hyperspace in a moment. I’ll make sure you’re sent coordinates for a rallying point, well away from here if we must retreat.”


In theory, this should work. If my corvettes could reach the enemy’s rear, we could effectively act as a small star destroyer. If we concentrated fire on the enemy’s bridge, we could at least knock out the ship’s command structure. From there, focusing fire on other weak points could hopefully lead to a reactor explosion. I’d thought of such a maneuver before, but I’d never had the chance to test it. I could only pray that the Destroyer would take the bait of Giraan’s frigate, rather than choosing to focus on my line.

But the worry of enemy reinforcements still hung in my mind. I’d already been proven hopelessly wrong on the amount of firepower the Brotherhood of the Maw had at their disposal. Still, staying in front of the pressing threat was not an option. So, I gave my orders.

The Line was to charge the Star Destroyer. They’d split into two groups to go around the sides of the ship to try and reach her rear. Ships taking fire were to move to the outer edge of their groups, allowing ones with more intact shielding to take fire for them. Once in the rear, we’d begin to concentrate our fire on what appeared to be the bridge. The Warrior-IIs alone had more than 300 Ion Cannons between them, and the same number of turbolasers. That, combined with the weaponry of the Nagatas and Avalons, should be more than capable of overwhelming the shielding in one spot and melting whatever was behind it.

I gave one final order as the thirty corvettes began to move.

“Keep your navigators ready to calculate a jump to hyperspace the moment more ships enter the battlefield. If they’re hostile, jump immediately. Hawk is sending coordinates to regroup after a retreat. Oliva out.”