Annihilation Across the Stars

[Ryoshu Akutagawa]

The shrill of alarms had driven the chamber into chaos, but most of the major delegates of the GA surprisingly did a good job keeping their cool. It was a fact that Ryoshu would remember of their culture. Most were probably ex-military. Those that were not you could figure were scientists, planetary governors... or rich. Yet, who was she to judge. She knew that life as the princess of Paradisum.

Ryoshu followed in Reign and the senator Tiber's wake after the explosion that rocked the meeting area, with the same serenity she had worn during the meeting before the alarms began. As Reign easily swatted away blaster bolts, one hand slipped from her sleeve to cup a thin device that she brought to her lips. A stem of smoke, the ember glow soft against the crimson strobes. She drew once, slow and unhurried, letting the haze curl and vanish behind her lips. "Worst. Raiders. Ever."

The mask of the Chancellor of Culture fell away. No more polite restraint, no more tempered words.

She drifted a pace to the side of Reign, unconcerned with the senators spilling toward safety, unconcerned with the Jedi trying to guard the hall. Her crimson eyes locked unto the pirates now ahead of her.

When one of the raiders burst through the smoke, Ryoshu's odachi slid free in a single breath, its long edge whispering through the man before his cry could even reach its peak. Two halves toppled to the deck in the same instant the blade returned to its scabbard. The motion had been so quick, so precise, that the faint click of steel resheathing was the only sound left to mark it.

She exhaled a veil of smoke into the air and resumed her steady walk, as though nothing had happened at all.

ALLIES - Alexandra Feanor Tiber Septimus Marek Bancroft Caelus Vire // NIHIL Gavin Vel Ryu Jung Ayra Lowe Arsenio Tagge Diarch Reign
ENEMIES - V1-L8 Velis Arden Koda Fett Razmir Tezhyn Tohu IG-44 Mauve du Vain Nero Drake Thayne Tameron Skeevi Merrill

 

[Caelus Vire // NIHIL]

Armor - Phantom Skin" Infiltration Armor - NIHIL (Never worn under the Caelus persona)

Nihil moved through the ductwork. Moving like a shadow that knew the blueprint by heart... that was because in real time the Diarchy's intelligence agency - the Network - was feeding him most likely directions based on previous Galactic Alliance reports. His shoulder plates whispered against the ribbed interior, a tiny fiber-optic feed draped along his collar to the port at his wrist. Nihil was listening, counting, making reports.

By following the seams of the ship he found a smashed maintenance hatch that led to a kitchen. Taking a grate he moved into a service crawl underneath, moving to alerted breach points underneath the shuffle of footsteps. Arriving at the most intensive firing entry point he watched the enemy funnel out of the shuttle like rats. Through his travel from the conference room to the hanger he had noted several important enemy positions and their intent.

Pressing a button on his ear he reached out directly to Diarch Reign over a secure Silentarii network line that was reserved for the Diarch's themselves. "Special agent NIHIL." Reign would know who the man was. Who his father was...

"My lord. Positions as follows.

-Hangar A (Primary breach): Hostile boarding force concentrated at intake A - estimated 2 dozen hostile combatants, led from the ramp by a tall beskar-clad operator.

- Inner service corridors (port side): Multiple splinter groups moving in two-man and four-man teams, pushing toward maintenance access points that feed the central concourse. There are multiple groups near the meeting chamber my lord.

- Dorsal service shafts: A tracked group is attempting to snake through service shafts toward command systems; they move slow and quiet, I counted three with slicer rigs. If they reach routing consoles they'll slice bulk comms and complicate evacuation vectors.

- Starboard maintenance ladder runs (aft): Two small teams (3–5 each) escorting a heavier element, probable demolition pack, moving aft toward engineering access. They smell of smoke and stolen fuel; they'll try to breach power conduits.

- Hangar flank / secondary ramps: Pockets of survivors and looters attempting to pocket high-value gear and melt into the ship. Expect opportunists who will try to move laterally rather than push forward immediately.

Recommend: secure the conference egress and collapse the port-side maintenance conduits. If you can, divert a squad to dorsal shafts and hard-seal the routing consoles.

Suggestion: Weapon - Gavin Vel can be put on conference flank to slow push to evacuations on bridge."

"Transmit complete," He said. The diagnostics blinked green through his feed. Stimulants, shields, weapons were all ready and in working order. Without waiting for orders, he began to stalk his prey. Those from the main hanger assault that were going to move towards the Galactic Alliance senators. Caelus did not care for "loot" or "Treasure" he cared for tactical mission success and appeasing the Diarch's.

He will follow. He will strike when the moment is right.

ALLIES - Alexandra Feanor Tiber Septimus Marek Bancroft Ryoshu Akutagawa Gavin Vel Ryu Jung Ayra Lowe Arsenio Tagge Diarch Reign
ENEMIES - V1-L8 Velis Arden Koda Fett Razmir Tezhyn Tohu IG-44 Mauve du Vain Nero Drake Thayne Tameron Skeevi Merrill

 

[Gavin Vel]

In a time not so long ago, Gavin would have hurled himself into the fray without hesitation, abandoning any thought of self-preservation. He would have welcomed the chance to meet the attackers head on, caring nothing for the Senators behind him and even less for their survival. Back then, he thrived on reckless abandon and the intoxicating rush of combat. But months of training had tempered him. It was not serenity, not the measured calm of a Jedi, but patience sharpened like a blade. He had learned to leash the fire rather than let it consume him.


He still hated the task Reign had given him. Guarding Senators felt like shackling a predator and forcing it to sit still while the hunt raged just beyond reach. Yet Gavin knew the truth. His master would see past the veneer of disappointment that flickered in his eyes. Reign would know, and Reign would understand that Gavin's restraint was worth far more than a dozen bodies cut down in blind fury. That was what mattered.


"As you wish," Gavin stated flatly, his voice carrying no warmth but ringing with certainty. He followed orders, and he would not fail his master. The senators would remain alive, whether they deserved protection or not.


He moved to the flank of the cluster of officials, a towering sentinel cloaked in dark robes. With a snap-hiss, his orange lightsaber sprang to life, casting a fiery glow across the room. The explosion that ripped through the doors shook the walls and sent sparks raining into the chamber, but Gavin did not flinch. Instead, a smirk tugged at his lips. Finally, something he understood. Action. Even if it meant standing guard rather than charging headlong into the chaos, it was a release all the same.


"Calm yourselves and stay between us," Gavin barked, his voice cutting through the chorus of panic. Senators stumbled and fell, some screaming, others cowering, their fear palpable in the air. Bolts of red light lanced through the smoke-choked doorway, sizzling against the floor and walls. Gavin moved like a predator at ease in its territory, his saber carving lazy arcs that swatted aside the incoming fire. He flicked a bolt into the ceiling, another into the wall, each motion precise and almost casual. The Force whispered through his limbs, guiding his blade exactly where it needed to be. He kept himself anchored between the Senators and the breach, making sure no assassin or trooper slipped through unnoticed.


Yet every fiber of his body urged him to abandon the post. His muscles tensed, begging to drive him forward. His heart thundered with the rhythm of battle, demanding release. Reign stood at the front, carving a path through the attackers, and Gavin longed to stand at his master's side. He clenched his teeth, fighting the urge to leap into the fray.


Then something shifted. A ripple in the Force, sharp and familiar, struck him like a hammer. His head snapped toward the viewport, eyes wide. For the briefest moment, he felt it. Naamino Zuukamano . His old friend, his brother in spirit. The sensation burned through him with painful clarity, a tether across the chaos. And then it was gone. The thread snapped, leaving only silence. His breath caught in his throat. Had he imagined it? Or was Naami truly here, lost somewhere in the madness?


A sharp cry dragged him back to the present. One of the Senators fell with a scream, clipped by a stray blaster bolt that left his robes smoldering. Gavin shook his head, banishing the thought of Naami with a growl of frustration. He forced his focus back to the task at hand, the molten blade of his saber spinning to intercept another shot. His eyes never stopped scanning the doorway, his body poised for the next threat.


But in the back of his mind, the question gnawed at him. If Naami was here, where was he, and what did it mean for Gavin's path?

OOC: Open for PVP please someone fight me.

Diarchy-Alliance (AVS Tython defenders):

Alexandra Feanor Tiber Septimus Marek Bancroft Caelus Vire // NIHIL Ryu Jung Ayra Lowe Arsenio Tagge Diarch Reign

Black Sun Syndicate:

V1-L8 Velis Arden Koda Fett Razmir Tezhyn Tohu IG-44 Mauve du Vain Nero Drake Thayne Tameron Skeevi Merrill

 

[Garrick Silvain]

ROGUE FOUR
UNDISCLOSED LOCATION
GHORMAN​

Garrick crouched low in the dimly lit hangar, the metal deck vibrating with the thrum of the power couplings. His hands, scarred but steady, tightly cinched the last magnetic clamp on the Vigilant's portside panel. The fighter's sleek, metallic skin seemed to swallow him whole in the shadows. He welcomed the routine, letting his mind fall into the rhythm of the labor: tighten, check, wipe. He left the chatter to Osira, and the gallows humor to Kelly. For Garrick, the silence of the work was enough.

The familiar scent of oil and coolant was almost a comfort. He paused, running a knuckle across the faint scar tissue that tracked down from his temple. A memory flashed: the jagged crystal caverns of Quarzite, the suffocating weight of stone, the sound of his own breath trapped beneath it while his ribs broke. He shoved the image down. The past had no teeth unless you stopped fighting.

He stood, the movement fluid despite the heavy layers of his flight suit, and placed a hand on the hull. The Vigilant was sleek, fast, and deadly. In Rogue Squadron, these fighters were more than machines; they were second skins, armor and blade combined. He belonged here.

Then the encrypted alert cut through the hangar like a thunderclap. Tech crews froze mid-weld, eyes locking. Garrick didn't need the decoding; he knew. Atrisia. The tension gathered, sharp and immediate. Kelly's voice cut through the growing noise, steady as the steel underfoot.

"We are go for Atrisia."

Garrick pulled himself into the cockpit, his hands sliding across the harness buckles, fingers slotting into the control depressions. The canopy sealed with a hiss. The hangar became a dim reflection as the fighter lifted, engines spooling up beneath him.

<<Three.>> Kelly's count was clear over the comms. Garrick tightened his grip on the yoke. <<Two.>> He leaned forward into the straps. <<One.>> He closed his eyes, drawing a breath. This was home. <<Mark.>>

The stars disappeared into violent, streaking lines. The cockpit shivered with the wrench of hyperspace. Garrick pressed back into his seat, jaw clenched, letting the hum of the Vigilant wrap around his bones, steady as a heartbeat. He exhaled slowly, letting the internal storm settle.

ATRISI SYSTEM, CORE WORLDS​

Moments later, the stars snapped back into place. Atrisia filled the viewport, wreathed in fire. Garrick's hands curled tighter on the controls as he tracked the chaos: cruisers dying, destroyers roaring, hulks of ships drifting like corpses. He felt the weight of it, the impossible futility of so small a squadron against a war machine.

Then his gaze snapped to the planet's horizon. Project Stardust. It was a sphere of steel so vast it poisoned the very emptiness of space. His stomach turned to lead. How could they hope to make a dent in that nightmare? He shrugged, a sharp dismissal of doubt. Questions were a luxury he didn't have.

Kelly's voice barked orders, cutting through the chaos like iron nails. Garrick listened, silent as always. Specter didn't need excess words, only precision. He keyed his mic once. <<Rogue Four. Checking in.>> A shadow slipping into place.

Then came the storm. Emerald fire lanced across his canopy as turbolasers arced. Garrick twisted the yoke, and the Vigilant flipped hard, dodging a barrage that turned empty space into a furnace. The targeting tone screamed, and he snapped the trigger. Red plasma chewed through the flank of a TIE, its electronic scream dissolving as it spun into shards.

Another attacker came fast from above. Garrick cut his throttle, letting the fighter slide into a sudden stall. The TIE overshot just as his cannons flared. A blossom of fire painted the void. He rolled again, diving into the debris field of a shattered cruiser, weaving through the twisted wreckage. Blaster fire hissed past, but the shadows were his element.

He skimmed the edges of ruined durasteel and ghosted out the other side, unseen until he unleashed a final shot that split an enemy fighter neatly in two. <<Splash three.>> His voice was low, toneless, carrying only the weight of the kill.

The planet killer loomed, vast and utterly indifferent. Whatever storm the Empire sought to summon, Garrick would meet it with steel and fire. Whether they broke themselves upon that moon or managed to scratch its surface didn't matter now. Rogue Four was a shadow, and shadows always endured.

Flying: T-91 Vigilant
Tags: Kelly T. Perris | Osira Perris | Anders Halak | (Tag me if you want PvP)
​

 

[Koda Fett]

OBJ 2
BSS BOARDING PARTY

​

"Keep pushing, break into your teams." He replied to Nero Drake over comms.

One step after the other, the Mandalorian began to move to the edge of the hangar. His assigned team, being a mix of Aqualish, Weequay and Iridonian mercenaries. A single Trandoshan and Kiffar accompanying them, following closely behind as shots rang all around the team. "Still alive," he questioned Velis Arden as he ducked into a blast door frame, "Good. Then you're with me."

Having a dedicated slicer would make things easier on the route to the bridge.

His team exited the hangar, entering the winding corridors. Moving quickly, gunning down defenders ahead of them and pursuing. Hardly an easy fight.

Alexandra Feanor - Tiber Septimus - Marek Bancroft - Caelus Vire // NIHIL - Ryu Jung - Ayra Lowe - Arsenio Tagge - Diarch Reign - V1-L8 - Razmir Tezhyn - IG-44 - Mauve du Vain - Thayne Tameron - Skeevi Merrill
​

 

[Artam Macek]

​

Objective: Shoot Down Enemy Fighters
Location: Fighter Formation Protecting Death Star
Tags:

Rogue Squadron:

Kelly T. Perris l Osira Perris l Anders Halak l Garrick Silvain

Shadow Squadron:

SCAR l Soontir Barvel l Innis Tarring

AND THERE WILL COME A NIGHT OF RUIN​

One must wonder- when someone first gazed upon the stars, thousands upon thousands of years ago, and decided to venture out to them. To touch the night sky. To go boldly into the darkness of space, and to find others, to explore, to conquer, to colonize new planets. Perhaps it was the Rakata, as the books said. Duros was said to be the pioneers early on, as well. Thousands of years ago.

He wondered how they felt, gazing upon with wonder, with amazement. Each breath on a new world. Each step, every inch in their ancient ships. And then he wondered-

How they'd tremble in fear, in abject horror, at the might of the Empire's war machine. They had turned their exploration and their ships and technology as tools to conquer. Wielding the power of the Gods, practically. He read on superweapons before, the Star Forge and Centerpoint Station, the Suncrusher. Weapons so powerful that they seemed comical and even impossible to rationalize their destructive capabilities. Long-dead and long-destroyed weapons had no bearing now. There was no Star Forge the Alliance could muster to fight the Death Star. There was no Suncrusher to rebel against their might.

There was simply the war machine, and it consuming all in it's path. Peace and stability, order and progress was coming to the galaxy. There was no question about it now. The Alliance could fight hard as it may, try as they might. But the fact of the matter was-

The Empire was pushing forward.

Artam pushed such thoughts aside, turning his head in his TIE fighter. More enemy craft were appearing, flying in formation. He clicked on some of his jammers, his stealth systems to cloak him from their sensors. They may not have seen him on their scanners, but the sound of his engines and the actual visual recognition was still entirely possible. His TIE interceptor rolled into an attack pattern, a corkscrew that put his TIE in an arc above the enemy fighters. Upside down was relative in space, but he flew upside down to them- and fast. He squeezed his triggers, and fired. With that- the sensor jammers and stealth systems automatically disengaged, and instead, went into combat mode- powering his shields, engines, comm systems.

The like.

His shots were not particularly targeted to any of the members of Rogue Squadron, but rather a sweeping fire towards the advancing axis they were on. He pinged Shadow Squadron, and let them know that he was going to need help in a moment, as well as any Imperial forces. He was not a fool- the obviously well-trained pilots were sure to respond in kind to his attack.

The goal was not to destroy one of the Rogue Squadron fighters. It was a tactic to disperse them, to break their fighter formation. It was difficult to face a formation alone, but it could be done, it was possible. But not when they were together. He flew towards them- and there was the daring question he posed to one of them:

Would they move? Or would they be rammed into by the Imperial pilot? And more importantly-

Who among them was going to answer the opening salvo committed by Artam?


TLDR:

Artam goes Wwheeeeeeeeeerereabshhhhhhhhhhphoooooooooeewwwwwwwwooom over Rogue squadron and is flying really fast into their formation to break them up and is like "come at me bro" basically.

 

[Darth Caedes]

"Fools will ever think themselves better, more special, than merely a relapse in history."
—Darth Caedes, ruminations...



​

Onward​

The Iron Eidolon tore free of the Blackwall like some hulking, water-borne beast breaching the waves of a storming ocean. Its hull shuddered as it emerged to a scene of... utter chaos. Before its prows' panoramic viewports stretched the Atrisia system, its orbit already crawling with the unsteady swarm of teeming warships, like so many insects in a frenzy for recently discovered food scraps. Space itself burned here, lit aglow by the ephemeral flashings of laser fire and the soundless detonations of larger craft. Fleets from far-flung galactic powers tangled in murderous knots, fire and smoke traced the void as eclectic fighter wings broke against the Imperial fleets of the Galactic Empire. Frigates and similar craft blinked out in brilliant explosions, their screaming crews pulled into the eternal darkness of chilly space, freezing solid and littering the killing field. Wounded ships belched short-lived flames into the bleakness, spiraling out of control, launching escape pods, calling for aid. The Force was thick with agony here; shrieking, desperate, amplified to a near unbearable resonance by the sheer number of powerful practitioners gathered all in one place.

Behind it all, looming like some enshadowed behemoth, lay the Death Star.

Caedes' eyes narrowed to slits of gold. That ugly durasteel monster was no great revelation or invention of warfare, rather an echo of failures past. Twice before in history, such a monstrosity had been vaunted as invincible—and twice before it had collapsed under the considerable weight of its own hubris. For all the galaxy's supposed innovation, here was proof of its one true constant: fools would ever think themselves more clever than history.

"They could have shown a little imagination," Lina said into his thoughts.​

"I bet they haven't even changed it's name."​

Yet when he closed his eyes, Caedes felt the truth, guided by the Force and riding its currents through the mayhem, stretching his senses into the core of that dreaded battle station beyond. Something tugged at him, pulling him deeper in. Darkness, like slick poison, like addiction creeping back in to beckon once more. Their gambit was more complicated than mere turbolasers and displays of ambition. Like a charlatan waving one hand in plain sight so that he might obscure deception in the other. Caedes pushed deeper, focused more closely on the songs of the Force—that churning melody emanating from within the Death Star.

Caedes blinked, pupils condensing into thin fangs. He studied the distant battle station's exterior hull, then turned to compare his findings against the ever expanding tactical holo-display. Even now, data points flickered into existence as sensors and telemetry stations updated the tactical.

"Prepare the Warclaws," he said, voice cutting clean through the noise of the CIC auxiliary bridge.​

"Targeting stations," he continued, impatiently.​

He raised a finger, indicating a section on the tactical's holo-projected wireframe.

"Concentrate fire along their Southern vector. Open an entry-wound for our craft."​

Belatedly, he turned to face his Empress.

He gestured toward her, towards Aether Verd and the assembled Mandolorian Death Watch.

"Your Highness," he demurred, nodding also to where Gerwald Lechner stood nearby.​

"Mand'alor," he said, turning to meet the other's gaze.​

"My craft are plentiful, though certainly not so gentle as the Eidolon. Join us, if such is the desire of your people. Fight well."​

Presently, he turned to face the Lady Ovmar and his own Apprentice, Madrona A’Mia . He inclined his head to the latter, momentarily caught up in a study of the neti's face.

"The Lord Seer and I will remain upon the Eidolon as overseers," Ovmar confirmed.​

"We can do the most damage with our spells from here."​

After a moment Caedes nodded in agreement, pulling his gaze from the Seer's—allowing himself to wonder what it was she saw when A'Mia looked at him now.

Watch over me, he signed in Korribani hand speak, an old proverb.​

And I will watch over you.​

He beckoned to Revna Marr with a sharp glance and a courtier's outstretched arm, grinning. Unlike on Brosi, before, he was this time eager for a chance to wade into battle alongside his lover. As such he did not linger, allowing Lina Ovmar time enough to summon her shadowy minions before sweeping his robes up around himself and departing the CIC's bridge.

"Acolyte Haro Aven ," he summoned without so much as a glance, "acolyte Naamino Zuukamano . With me."​

As he strode for the dropship decks, they fell in at his back.

"We've just arrived in the Atrisia System," he briefed them, tone clipped.​

"It would appear the Galactic Empire has managed to construct a super weapon in the form of a mobile battle station."​

His derision was clear in the sarcastic tone he adopted.

"A... Death Star," he continued, atop a tired sigh.​

"You may recognize its namesake, owing to historical significance. A cautionary tale," he explained.​

"Yet a planet killer nevertheless, and one I do not intend to let them employ here, on Atrisia. Some Darkness festers in that station's belly. A rot I intend to cut out from within. You will both accompany me."​

His eyes flared like blown embers as they met with Haro's cool jade.

"You're to be my lock and key," he instructed.​

"Once we're inside, you will ensure that I have a clear path through to the station's heart. Take this," he offered.​

"This Kainate code cylinder will clear you to nosebleed heights. It will also grant you access to the eyes of Typhojem. Use it to see that my will is done."​

He turned then to Naamino and adopted an earnest aspect.

"You are to be Aven's shield."​

The skin 'round his eyes tightened.

"See too it that he has sufficient opportunity to act efficiently. His life will be in your hands. Destroy all who endanger it. In this, you shall be my judgment, too," the King invoked.​

Protect the Lady Revna with your life, for your own depends on it, he signed ominously, angled conveniently away from the Lady in question.​

The Warclaw dropship was no luxury vehicle, admired the King as he climbed in. Its metallic womb reeked of oil and the red dust from Korribani sands, its benches and other utilities were often little more than girders welded together for function. Caedes found a handhold and gripped it tight, the thrill of the coming strike already alive in his chest. Reckless? Yes. But recklessness had its own kind of appeal—always had.

"Secure yourselves," he suggested, simply.​

With a hydraulic hhHhhhHiiiiissSss, the hatches sealed shut and, cCclLunNnK, launch clamps released with a violent shudder. Then all became silent, consumed by the silent vacuum of space as each Warclaw launched. The vessels bucked into war-torn space, leaving discolored vapor trails in their searing path towards the vast and waiting embrace of the Death Star.

Srina Talon | Deonis Laythar | The Lord of Hunger
Taeli Raaf | Domina Prime | Korda Veydran | Renn Vizsla | Aselia Verd​

[Exiting Chapter 2 (Across The Stars) with group; Entering Chapter 3 (Clash Of Destinies)]​

 

[Skeevi Merrill]

- Starboard maintenance ladder runs (aft): Two small teams (3–5 each) escorting a heavier element, probable demolition pack, moving aft toward engineering access. They smell of smoke and stolen fuel; they'll try to breach power conduits.

Skeevi was, unwillingly, attached to one of those secondary sidebar teams as medic/dispensary. It was Skeevi, four assorted thugs of unclear name, and one hulking baseline human (Bortholomuu Drave III, a nice man except at sabacc) with an equally hulking backpack. Since Black Sun was out to steal the ship rather than scuttle it, what defenders might take for a demo pack was in fact a high-pressure ixetal cilona gas dispenser system. Everyone was packing breath masks and on edge for the slightest hiss of pre-release. A luckless Arkanian exile had bumped the dispenser backpack while exiting the shuttle and triggered a dose that he was still snoring off back near the hangar, if nobody had stepped on him too much.

For their part, Skeevi was already wearing their breath mask out of basic prudence, not just because of the ixetal cilona but because of the much more virulent spices and drugs bouncing around in their bandolier.

The plan for this secondary team was to get to Engineering, plug the ixetal cilona into the life support, and give everyone aboard some wobbly euphoria and a risk of mild hallucination. Ixetal cilona was also known to dull or mute Force-users' extrasensory abilities in some cases, and that could be very handy too.


OPEN TO RANDOM ENCOUNTERS AS EVER


GA and DIARCHY
Alexandra Feanor
Tiber Septimus
Marek Bancroft
Caelus Vire // NIHIL
Gavin Vel
Ryu Jung
Ayra Lowe
Arsenio Tagge
Diarch Reign
Ryoshu Akutagawa

BLACK SUN
V1-L8
Velis Arden
Koda Fett
Razmir Tezhyn
Tohu
IG-44
Mauve du Vain
Nero Drake
Thayne Tameron

 

[Amalia Visconti | Mira Rhory]

Location: Aboard the Gluttoneria
Objective: Across the Stars, no time to fail

Spoiler: Armada Gluttoneria

Armada Gluttoneria
Fleet Composition : AG-INV Gluttoneria [100|100] CLOAKED AG-INV Avaritia [100|100] AG-INV Superbia [100|100] AG-INV Luxuria [100|100] AG-INV Invidia [100|100] AG-INV Acedia [100|100] AG-INV Ira [100|100]
Starfighter Compliment NZ TIE/stu Stürmer TIE Vulture TIE/ss Supremacy TIE/dv Devastator NZ TIE/sb Strike Bomber

"Damn..." gritting her teeth, the Governor of Corvus watched how the volleys she had sent off in order to protect Admiral Zonill's maneuver, were now in fact making it difficult to fulfill their objective. Those fighting for the Galactic Empire weren't pushovers by any means, showing some tactical knowledge and acting on it with great success.

"Ira, Invidia, Acedia," A mixture of nervosity and anger clearly audible in her voice. "Keep protecting those Von Strauss class vessels, if the threat doesn't come from space, it may as well still come from the planet's surface. Reload missile pods and send in the Vultures, have them sweep at the front lines of the enemy fleet, sync up with Ronhar Tane 's squadrons."

Things just didn't seem right, her target was too... apathic, as if they hardly cared about what was happening. The ships turning for their ground drops weren't chased, her own defending cruisers weren't screened or targeted either, and as the remaining bulk of her own hastily assembled fleet wasn't immediately under attack either, it began to sound like this one was much more calm and collected than any of the warlords she'd studied up on. "Whomever this opponent is, they've got a clear mind and a strong spirit for not falling to these provocations so easily."

"For now maintain position, keep the targeting systems of the Apollyons active...but hold off any firing," It was clear that some observation was necessary now and it seemed Admiral Zonill would provide ample information on the actions and mind of this smaller, yet resillient fleet they were facing.

Spoiler: TL'DR

• Ira, Invidia and Acedia maintain position
• Ira, Invidia, Acedia unleash TIE VULTURE compliments to support Admiral Zonill's VULTURE detachments
• Gluttoneria remains Cloaked*
• Apollyons are primed
• Avaritia, Luxuria, Superbia maintain position

TAGS ALLY: Karl Von Strauss | Ronhar Tane | Marlon Sularen | Solan Charr | ADM. Reshmar
TAGS ENEMY: Shuklaar Kyrdol | Domaric Mordane | Zethran Cott | Odria Kaelthron | Aldo Garrick | Remus Adair

 

[Odria Kaelthron]

Allies: Remus Adair | Zethran Cott | Domaric Mordane
Artam Macek | Reiner Ghadi

Enemies: Marlon Sularen | Karl Von Strauss | Ronhar Tane
Amalia Visconti | Mira Rhory​

Spoiler: Fleet Composition

• Imperial III-class Star Destroyer Sovereign's Pride
• Exactor-class Cruiser Glory of the Throne
• Exactor-class Cruiser Eternal Rule
• Exactor-class Cruiser Aurodium Fang
• Tribunal-class Frigate Relentless Fist
• Tribunal-class Frigate Pale Judgement
• Tribunal-class Frigate Crucible of Order
• Edict-class Corvette Pure Intent
• Edict-class Corvette Harrow
• Edict-class Corvette Palisade

Spoiler: tl;dr Action Summary

• Three Edict-class Corvettes and twenty TIE squadrons deploy to intercept and destroy gunships
• Several plasma torpedoes slam into the Sovereign's Pride, causing shield and hull damage
• The Pride transfers engine power to shields and holds position, intensifying its attack
• In addition to continued heavy anti-capital fire from the Exactors, the Pride fires solar ionization cannons
• Odria gambles that the Conqueror's Bane will have to break off before breaching her line

--------------------------​

Losing a hand of Pazaak is sometimes inevitable. The game continues past a loss or two.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, watching the transports make their way down to Atrisia III's surface unimpeded. Odria had very much hoped to intercept them - to at least delay them, if she could not destroy them. The drop troopers deployed by her strike force already faced a task that was all but impossible: an unsupported hot drop onto a fortress world teeming with enemy armies, advanced defensive technologies, and swarms of Force-wielding demigods. Now their enemies were about to get reinforcements while Imperial numbers dwindled.

But it was a pill that she could swallow. Odria had been assured that actual tactical objectives on Atrisia were less relevant than causing mass chaos and social disruption. She did not pretend to understand the arcane ways of the Emperor and His powerful cultist-servants, the Dark Side Elite. She thought along physical, material lines, not spiritual ones. But she had been assured that actually capturing Jar'Kai was not an especially relevant goal. If every last one of the troopers she'd hurled down to the surface died in the fighting, the Emperor cared not.

It all had something to do with some kind of ritual aboard the battle station. To her, it was irrelevant.

She would carry out the will of today's tyrant with aplomb, and reap rewards for it.

Assuming she survived this battle, and the odds were against her in that regard. Though both TIC battle groups had dispatched some of their ships to cover the transports, or even to return to the line of battle arraying against the main Imperial fleet protecting the Death Star, there were still a great many ships bearing directly down on Task Force Kaelthron. Odria watched as the incoming Akbar Slash deployed some kind of fighter screen that flew directly into her improvised minefield. It took her a moment to realize they were droid craft, and deliberately crashing.

It was a brute force solution to the problem, but a clever one, preserving more valuable ships.

"Incoming attack wave," the ensign reported. Should she give him a descriptor, if not actually learning his name? Locks of red hair peeked out from under his officer's cap; she decided to call him Ensign Curly. "Some kind of gunship, supported by a fighter screen." Odria glanced at the sensor readouts, and her lip curled. Those gunships were hideous to look at, true uglies in all senses of the word - some kind of bizarre modification of a standard Imperial lander design, studded with additional guns and missile tubes in place of the traditional top wing.

The designers had slapped weapons on that thing like a Canto Bight con artist slapped on rhinestones.

"Edicts forward," Odria ordered. "TIE squadrons, support them." Her three Edict-class Corvettes had been built explicitly for the purpose of blunting attacks like this. They were all but worthless against any of the big ships bearing down on them, but their autoblasters and flak cannons absolutely shredded fighters, bombers, shuttles, and other such small craft. Her deployed TIE squadrons screened them - eight from the Pride, six total from the three Exactors, and another six total from the three Tribunals. They were standard TIEs, nothing very special.

But their pilots knew how to work with the Edicts. They hung back...

... and the flak guns fired, throwing out a screen of explosive micro-flechettes.

Those bursts of jagged metal would form a thorny screen for the enemy craft to fly through, only to be greeted by continued flak and autocannon fire - plus the TIEs - on the far side. Of course, though the flechettes could absolutely shred fighter craft, they would do nothing at all against the larger ships bearing down on Task Force Kaelthron. And though the lead vessel in the Akbar slash was being hammered by multiple capital ship killers while its shields were being drained, it refused to break off. In fact, it began charging a nasty-looking weapon.

"Governor, the battlecruiser is..."

"I have eyes, ensign. Sound collision and brace for impact."

Plasma torpedoes streaked across the void and slammed into the Sovereign's Pride. These were the kind of weapons not easily deterred by ECM or missile probes - high velocity and energy-based. The Star Destroyer shook as impacts erupted along the starboard side of its wedge, sending it into a slow roll. Despite the intertial dampers, the shock was enough to send Odria reeling. She fell to one knee, bruising the flesh where it hit the deck plating. A curse upon being old! She bruised and bled easily now, her skin paper thin despite her rejuvenant treatments.

"Damage report," the Governor demanded, using the edge of the viewport to lever herself back to her feet. The rest of the bridge crew had been sitting, so although they'd been jostled around, they hadn't been thrown from their stations. "Starboard deflectors were penetrated," Ensign Curly reported, a sheen of sweat sticking those red-gold locks to his young forehead. "Hull breach on Deck Sixteen, but it's minor; containment fields have stopped the atmospheric venting. A megamaser battery and several missile tubes are down."

"Reroute engine power to shields," Odria snapped. "Intensify forward batteries. Do not budge from this line!" If the Akbar Slash penetrated the Imperial line, they would be finished. The second Confederate battle group was only holding position for now, but the moment the first one got behind Task Force Kaelthron, they would be encircled and shot to pieces. Their only hope was to continue pouring fire into that oncoming ship, draining its shields and hammering it with anti-capital weaponry, to force it to break off and abort the maneuver.

"Fire the solar ionization cannons," the Governor added. If their enemy could tank all this to the shields...

... it might be time to add in a weapon that bypassed shields entirely to melt durasteel hulls.

Another officer might have compared this to a game of chicken - two swoop gangers bearing down on each other at high velocity, daring the other to be the first to alter course before they crashed headlong into one another. To Odria, of course, it was like Pazaak. The second hand of the game was still active, and she and her opponent were tied at 18. Did he dare draw another card by continuing to charge forward, allowing the capital-killer guns to continue hammering him? Or would he stand and accept that this hand was a draw, no point to either side?

He might win if he drew... but there was an eighty percent change of going bust when drawing on an 18.

Would he really risk that? Would he take the chance of being melted on the way in?

 

[Revna Marr]

TSO Tags: Darth Caedes // Srina Talon // Gerwald Lechner // Madrona A’Mia // Naamino Zuukamano //
Haro Aven // Elmindra Xitaar // Taeli Raaf // Lina Ovmar
ME Tags: Aether Verd // Domina Prime // Korda Veydran // Renn Vizsla // Aselia Verd

Other Tags: The Lord of Hunger // Deonis Laythar ​

Revna closed her eyes for a moment and lent her strength, what she could afford to give, to those that worked to open the portal through the blackwall for the ships. She wanted to aid them further, gather her power so that she had more to give…but she would have had to sacrifice lives to do so. Everyone onboard the Iron Eidolon was precious, needed, for what was to come. The temptation of the Hunger clawed along the edges of her sanity, but she pushed it aside for the meantime.

It would have plenty of room to move once they reached the location that had called out to all the Force sensitives aboard the ship. Patience was a virtue for any hunter, and it was something she had in abundance.

The small Sith woman continued with her silent observations, dipping her head in a gesture of respect when she caught sight of the Dark Councilor, Lord Lechner. Her burning gaze flickered and settled upon two young men who had been summoned from the Academy to join Caedes on this particular excursion; she recognized them instantly, though her eyes settled on Haro Aven a moment longer than what was necessary. There was something about him that she couldn’t quite place her finger on, though she kept those musings to herself. The other Acolyte, the Zabrak warrior Naamino, carried himself with utmost respect but with a clear sense of duty that brought a faint flicker of a smile to her face. She had been like him when she first came under the tutelage of her Master; respectful and adherent to duty. She still was…but time and experience had shaped and refined her even further, and no doubt it would do the same to Naamino as well.

As the portal opened and brilliant colors of light began to swirl about the ship, Revna reached out through the distance - a gentle touch upon the psyche of her Father. She rarely reached out to Darth Strosius in such a manner, but her increasing duties called her away from His side more often than she would like to admit. Sometimes, this was the only way to communicate with Him.

-Beware, something stirs in Alliance space. Something is not right, the Force is screaming…rally Your warriors, just in case. I am safe, but I am headed out beyond the Blackwall to investigate, along with others-

She didn’t know if He would receive the message across the distance that currently separated them, but she let her faith carry the warning along with it.

Only a short time later, though it felt like an eternity, the Iron Eidolon jutted out from its travel and to the space above the planet Atrisia. Through the viewport on the command deck, Revna could see that a battle raged already - but it wasn’t this that truly dominated her’s and everyone else’s views: it was the spherical behemoth of an object that hung in the airspace beyond the planet…one she’d heard about and seen from historical texts.

A Death Star.

Revna scoffed, the sentiments of everyone else mirrored in her own derisive snort.

“They could have shown a little imagination. I bet they haven’t even changed it’s name…” Lina said and Revna felt an amused smile curl at her lips.

“Hmm. You’d think they would have learned from the last two failures. I guess not…I suppose we can make it a third lesson...”

Revna’s eyes narrowed as she beheld the large battlestation; the source of the Force’s agony was coming from there, and now that she was even closer, she could sense the roiling of the Dark Side. She recognized a bit of its pattern, its ebb and flow…a ritual of some sort was taking place somewhere aboard that craft. No doubt, a ritual that was being fed by all the death and suffering that was being inflicted by this conflict. Revna cared not for the struggles that the Galactic Alliance went through with their hostile neighbors; she had no desire to be here, above Atrisia.

But the Death Star wasn’t just a threat to the Galactic Alliance. It was a threat to everyone and everything. If it was not stopped here, or turned back…then once the Empire finished with the Alliance, then they would be coming for the Sith Order…for the Mandalorian Empire…for everyone.

The deck became a flurry of movements and orders once more as decisions were made on who would do what and who would go where. The to-be Queen bemoaned that she had not had enough time to don her new armor, but it wasn’t the first time she had gone into battle in just her Sorceress robes. Lady A’Mia wore it, and in hindsight Revna realized grimly that she should have paid attention to that detail. The Lord Seer of Korriban was aware of things that most others were not and if she had chosen to wear the intricate and complicated armor then perhaps that should have been a sign. Too late now, Revna supposed grimly. At least she had her lightsaber with her. That never left her side, even when she was resting or spending more quality time with her loved ones.

Lina summoned inky figures, her shadow walkers, that hid within the shadows of all present who intended to leave the Eidolon and find their fight elsewhere.

Tension coiled within Revna’s form, an anticipation growing with the promise of conflict. Her eyes were bright with contained violence, her presence seeping the cold chill of the Darkness as she wrapped it around herself like a second cloak. A glance from Caedes and the sharp tilt of his head was all she needed from him to step to his side, linking her arm with his own. They would go into this fight together, alongside the Dread Wolf and the Dread Empress. She was not one to boast or brag about her own power, but she felt a grim smile cross her face at the thought of what their enemies aboard the Death Star might feel with their approach. The Dark Side was not lacking here, nor was courage, power, and the sheer ferocity of those gathered.

They were all warriors here - Mandalorian and Sith alike, honed by war and conflict. Revna turned her gaze towards the one who bore the title of Mand’alor, and his warriors that stood with him. “Fight well, Warriors of Mandalore.” she bid them with respect, before she stepped away with the Sith King and those with him.

As they moved towards the dropship decks, Caedes beckoned for the Acolytes Haro and Naamino to follow him, passing along information and orders as they went. Soon, they reached the Warclaws and all took their place within their bellies without fanfare. Revna secured herself with the ease of someone who had been on many dropships in her time as a Sith, and settled herself for the ride. It was not going to be a pleasant trip, but it would see them piercing into the Death Star…or that was the hope, anyway. No doubt the spacecraft was heavily fortified and guarded, but from what she had seen there were plenty of others battering the ship and seeking ways to get in. She and her entourage only needed to find their own gap in the cracked skin, and see what lay beyond it.

Revna lifted her fiery eyes to that of Caedes, and caught his gaze for a moment - a silent message passing between them. She entrusted her life to him, and she would defend his with every ounce of blood and breath in her body. It was what partners did…they looked out for one another.

-I do not know what will transpire aboard that monstrosity, what we will face. Life is never guaranteed, so know that I love you more than the breath in my own lungs, ‘Ari- She said to her lover through their tether, her voice whispering directly into his mind, coiling like sweet incense.

With the sharp hissing sound of hydraulics, the doors sealed, shutting them all inside. A moment later, the dropships were released from their latches, and they sped towards their fate aboard the looming Death Star.

[Exiting Chapter Two (Across the Stars) with group; Entering Chapter Three (Clash of Destinies)]​

 

[Karl Von Strauss]

Objective: Across the Stars
Equipment: See Signature at Bottom of Post
Fleet:

Spoiler: 14th Imperial Fleet, Exarch's Fist

Key: Shields | Armor
Core Line:

• Flagship: INV Aternus - 0 | 100
• Allegiance IV-Class Battlecruiser
  • Erocia - 100 | 100
• Venator III-class Star Destroyers
  • Winter Wind - 100 | 100
  • Revolutionary - 100 | 100

Attack Line:

• Imperial XI-Class Star Destroyers
  • Requiem - 100 | 100
  • Lacrimosa - 100 | 100
  • Dies Irae - 100 | 100
• Szayel I - Class, Assault Cruisers
  • Scheherazade - 100 | 100
  • Firebird - 100 | 100
  • Rhapsody - 100 | 100
  • Prelude - 100 | 100

Screen Line:

• Loki-Class Fast Corvettes
  • Tannhauser - 100 | 100
  • Parsifal - 100 | 100
  • Lohengrin - 100 | 100
• Celox-Class Frigates
  • Tristesse - 100 | 100
  • Heroic - 100 | 100
• Tyrant IV- Class Suppression Cruiser
  • Choral - 100 | 100

Support Line:

• Celox-Class Frigate
  • Raindrop - 100 | 100
• Paralyzer-Class Interdictor
  • Marche - 100 | 100
• Hephaestus-Class Fleet Repair Barges
  • Waltz - 100 | 100
  • Suite - 100 | 100

Complement:

• TIE/ss Supremacy
• TIE/ja Jäger
• TIE/dv Devastator
• NZ TIE/sb Strike Bomber
• TIE/DA Defender of Authority

The Exarch watched as the solid-state hologram blinked and stuttered, its three-dimensional pieces lagging behind reality by heartbeats. In all his years of service, and in all the ways he'd toyed with these systems, Karl had never seen the projection drag like this. He began to voice the order to sweep for enemy E-warcraft when a technician's shout cut through the hum.

"Sir, there are multiple contacts exiting hyperspace forward! An entire fleet signature and something huge..." The tech didn't finish. He looked back at his readout just as a white flare punched through the viewport. Karl had seen it before the man could say it. The flare resolved into shape, an obscene silhouette that swallowed starlight. "…Sir," the technician finished weakly, "it's a battlestation."

"Correction, Ensign," he said, drawing himself as if the chair could lend him height. He passed through the lagging holo as it tried, impotently, to piece the object together. "It's a damned Death Star."

Those who could looked out. The viewport framed the thing like an absence in the universe; a world-ending machine, obscene and absolute. A dry swallow rasped from the Exarch. He lifted a hand, sending the bridge back to its stations with a single precise gesture, then folded his arms behind his back and held his silence for a measured beat.

He cleared his throat before saying, "ATHENA, begin charging apollyons, and load the kinetic artillery magazines with Type RED Warheads. Hold targeting solutions for now."

A different voice, one more robotic, answered, <Acknowledged, Exarch. Forward Apollyons entering charge cycle. HKAC magazine racks cycling to Type RED. Thermal signatures within acceptable thresholds. Estimated time to complete charge: 54 seconds.>

Without a second wasted, the first feminine voice of THEMIS cut through the bridge, <<Karl, shall I execute battle order seventy?>>

"Yes, THEMIS," he said with clear conviction, "Begin intrusive vectors on the destroyers forming the battlestation screen. Feed minor faults into their targeting protocols, seven degrees off. Make it subtle. They'll detect it and reallocate resources to correct it. Let them spend time and attention on ghosts."

<<Of course Karl,>> THEMIS replied, a hint of dry amusement threaded through the syllables. <<I will introduce…controlled chaos.>>

Karl pivoted to the Imyndaða projection and began feeding commands. He glanced at the comms officer as his hands moved, speaking aloud even as his fingers danced across the solid-state mesh. "Patch me to fleet captains on Channel One for direct hails. Prioritize Tactical's feed, real-time volley sync. Open Engagement Network handoff to Confederation assets. Begin data uplink."

"Channel linked. Tactical feed prioritized," came the response from Comms. Karl's headset link hummed like a living wire.

"Attack and core line, engage targets on my mark," He said, his eyes never leaving the hologram. He touched the fleet model and highlighted several of the corvettes in the Death Star's flotilla. The holographic corvettes trembled as data overlays cascaded: primary target lock, percentage allocation, volley timing. The numbers glowed; primary target corvette 3-A (one of the Gurkhas), main allocation 70%; smaller glyphs flickered around the rest of the elements, 30% allocated for distribution across escort flotilla.

"Focus seventy percent of your main batteries on the corvette marked 3-A on your targeting computers, bearing two-zero-one. Distribute thirty percent across the remaining contact band to keep their formation entertained. Take one down, then repeat on the next. Concentrated attrition. No scatter."

"Copy, Exarch," Tactical answered. "Attack and core line acknowledge target allocation." A dozen captain voices bled into the net, short, efficient. "Weapons hot. Target lock affirmed."

Karl turned around and walked a few steps forward. He didn't mean to, but he stopped right on top of the burned spot. He held up his hand in a fist; he waited for the precise moment to strike. A familiar robotic cadence cut the moment like a blade.

<Exarch, apollyons are fully charged, and HKACs have been loaded with Type RED. Targeting solution?>

"ATHENA, target the Prefsbelt with our forward cannons." He felt the ship shift under his feet as ATHENA adjusted the bow towards the fleet's Reprisal-class Star Destroyer. He could see the glow coming from the Aeternus's forward batteries; his knee began to ache again, but he just bit his tongue and pushed forward despite the phantom pain.

He brought his hand down like a knife towards the enemy fleet, "Feuer." As the order left his mouth, the ships in the attack and core lines began to unleash their concentrated firepower at the enemy formation. Karl was unexpectedly calm in this moment, almost as if the sounds of battle calmed him.

Ally Tags: Marlon Sularen | Amalia Visconti | Mira Rhory | Ronhar Tane | ADM. Reshmar | Solan Charr

Enemy Tags: Remus Adair | Nyles Kote | Domaric Mordane | Odria Kaelthron | Zethran Cott | Aldo Garrick

Spoiler: TL;DR

Karl targets Remus Adair 's corvettes with the majority of his force.
THEMIS AAII begins to hack into the Reprisal Destroyers, in an attempt to throw off their aim and cause chaos.
Karl targets the Prefsbelt with the Aeternus's heaviest batteries.
Karl's fleet begins engaging.