Invasion All Your Base Are Belong To Us! | TIC Invasion of SO Held "Thandon Star Cluster" Superhex

[Karl Von Strauss]

[ INVASION THEME ]
[ Black Sabbath - War Pigs ]
[ RIP Ozzy. We love you man </3 ]

INVASION OF THE THANDON STAR CLUSTER, BROSI, DOSTRA SYSTEM.
STARDATE: 300725.

They arrived swiftly, under Imperial-Decree from the highest echelons of government. With efficiency, the Imperial Military moved to occupy the long-abandoned Lost-Imperial territory of Minntooine!

Resistance had been minimal. The local warlord's militia collapsed after he was captured, and within days, the planet's dormant orbital shipyards and planet-side drydocks roared back to life as they were driven back into service for the indomitable, churning Imperial junta and military complexes revitalized in the second IMPERIAL OCCUPATION of the Outer Rim systems.

In the months that followed, Minntooine was reborn as a hub of engineering and ship manufacture, just as it had been under General Teckla Tane. The Imperial War-Machine demands vessels, and by reclaiming this star system, they are set to be delivered in earnest. Troop levels in orbit of the planet and on it's surface increased expediently. New legions of the Imperator Corps were trained beneath its skies. Fleets began to patrol the system in ever-tightening formations.

All personnel knew-- no, felt-- that something was coming. No one knew what. Not until the orders came.

They arrived without fanfare, without announcement.

Just in silence and in motion.

As the banners were set to be raised to christen in an Iron Sunset upon blood-red crimson skies.

Under strict secrecy, a second decree had been issued-- time sealed and distributed via heavily encrypted channels across the Imperial occupied Outer Rim systems. Even fleets operating under full blackout received their marching orders by hand, delivered by agents of the Imperial Secret Service. Heroes and villains-- handpicked and therefore gathered from the four Imperial remnants consolidated and unified underneath nascent rule of Liraeth Deschart-- convened to be debriefed on the plans of the Empress under the directives of PROJECT TION!

Later,within hours, the skies of Minntooine swelled with war fleets. Radio channels flooded with clearances and confirmations. Drill fields emptied as legions packed up and vanished into transports. The truth was now undeniable:

The Imperial Confederation were going to war with the Sith Order!

ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US!
OUR IRON SUN SHALL SET UPON THE TYRNNICAL CRIMSON SKIES OF YOUR UNRULY SITH HOLY WORLDS!
THE CORPORATE SECTOR SHALL FALL TO OUR NASCENT CONFEDERATION!
THE IMPERIAL REMNANTS ARE RESURGENT ONCE MORE UNIFIED BY OUR SUPREME EMPRESS!

THANDON SHALL FALL!
LONG LIVE THE EMPIRE!

The Imperial-Invasion forces waited until the final moment to show their hand.

In perfect synchrony, hyperspace routes across the Thandon Star Cluster lit up with Imperial signatures. The assault was surgical, sudden, and overwhelming! Dromund Kaas, Korriban, and Ziost were each attacked simultaneously. The strategy was deliberate: force the Sith to defend everything, and in doing so, defend nothing!

But while the many eyes of the Sith Order focused on this lightning campaign attacking key worlds, another strike force-- smaller than the others, but still formidable in it's might-- went for another target:

The Cantorian Blight afflicted world of BROSI!

It was a name barely whispered in strategic briefings. Known primarily for its natural reserves of Zinsian (a dry preservative) and Hfredium (a rare industrial metal needed in the production of certain alloys) Brosi had once been a temperate forest world, rich with life and commerce with a hub for tourism even beneath the veil of the dread BLACKWALL!

That until the Candorian Blight!

The infection swept across the planet with horrifying speed. It devoured forests, poisoned lakes, and killed tens of thousands. Civilization withered in weeks. The once-bustling fortress-city of Shoengen, a once-upon-a-time vibrant mercantile centre, fell silent with their great industrial plants laying near dormant as the streets below became hollow echoes of a lost world; and yet the skies still bled smoke under the tyrannical, merciless rule of the SITH for not even the blight would stop their indomitable quotas as they marched upon the stars themselves!

Ore-Dukes (technocrats originally installed by the Warlords of the Sith and retained by the Sith Order through promises of impossible production quotas that only they could claim to deliver) had turned to fire in an attempt to deal with the blight. From atop their gilded Mega-Towers, they watched as their mercenaries (aided by the few remaining Sith troops) shovelled infected corpses into vast burn pits. Columns of ash rose like grave markers across the skyline. Dystopia has truly claimed this once vibrant, lush world that was once again upon a time a hub of tourism during the days of the Corporate Sector Authority.

But for the Imperial Confederation, Brosi was an opportunity. A world under quarantine. Their defenders distracted and command structures brittle after the all out assault upon the Sith client state. It was the weak link of the Thandon Cluster; a chance to seize valuable resources, extract intelligence, and establish a planetary foothold before the Sith could mount a defence, or so they were led to believe, for the power of the dark side has proven to be blinding.

So, let the Sith Order scramble and exhaust themselves to defend their sacred worlds!

Meanwhile, we shall ensure our victory with the fall of Brosi, and with it the first crack in the Sith' foundation, as a new paradigm takes shape along the Outer Rim Territories!

Site Administrator:​	Tefka​
The Imperial Confederation Staff Karl Von Strauss Selrik Lorcas Marlon Sularen Vazela Mellifluous Magenta Onrai​	The Sith Order Staff Darth Empyrean Darth Malum of House Marr Lirka Ka Gerwald Lechner Darth Nefaron Darth Strosius Quinn Varanin Revna Marr War Marshal Helix​

Objective I - Storm the Tower!
[PvP Dueling]

The Brosian Ore Conglomerate Mega-Tower stands tall in the middle of the fortress-city of Shoengen.

A monument to when Grox Dovark (with the help of the Warlords of the Sith) managed to oust the previous ore conglomerate, this once-upon-a-time a hub of commerce, trade, and ambition now looms over the city like a tombstone. Five hundred and six stories of sealed vaults, offices, penthouses, and automated security systems sit locked beneath a city drowning in the catastrophic, deadly and infectious CANTORIAN BLIGHT UNLEASHED BY THE TECHNOCRAT Antonin D'Asta !

Despite all of the deadly circumstances plaguing this region of Shoengen, the nascent, invading Imperial Confederation wants something from this building more valuable than the ore extracted from the planet: DATA!

Encrypted logs, payment chains, Sith correspondence, and facility blueprints-- all of these items are scattered across private server rooms in the sub-floors and the executive terminals in the penthouse offices ripe for the taking.

The only caveat is this... The building is on complete lockdown to friend and foe alike! The Ore-Dukes have activated every security protocol, and a short circuit somewhere is causing the automated turrets, security droids, and biometric systems to flag everyone as a hostile entity. One false move and you might find yourself among the heaps of the infectious dead being incinerated nearby.

The question isn't what to do. It's how to do it.

Objective II - Seize the Means of Production!
[War Posting, Duels, Starfighter Dogfights]

When the planet was originally under the control of the Corporate Sector Authority, they built three Zinsian processing plants: Delta 1, Delta 2, and Malior. Since then, the Brosian Ore Conglomerate has built several other facilities to keep up with the staggering production quotas imposed by the Sith-backed Ore-Dukes.

Due to the Candorian Blight, most of these sites are working with skeleton crews. Their production quotas have grinded to a standstill. However, the infrastructure is still there, and because of the planet's quarantine, Zinsian can still be found in storage tanks and unrefined Hfredium can still be moved. These facilities and the resources therein have been deemed strategic and valuable to the Imperial Confederation and their invading war machine!

Imperator Corps legions, walker companies, and TIE squadrons descend across the region, targeting these facilities and their storage platforms. Seizing the facilities will accelerate the Confederation military expansion put into motion under the directives of PROJECT TION and therefore disrupt the Sith Order' logistics.

Who will you find on this battlefield?

Objective III - The Battlefield is Constant Chaos!
[Bring Your Own Objective - Fleeting, Bounty Hunting]

The THANDON STAR CLUSTER suddenly finds itself at war, and while the quarantined world of Brosi becomes a surprising battlefield below, the armadas of the nascent IMPERIAL CONFEDERATION loom in the black-ink canvas of space!

Imperial-Grade Star Destroyers (recently refurbished and fresh from the directives of SUPREME COMMANDER MARLON SULAREN in preparation for war) engage with the dreaded capital ships of the ELEVENTH SITH EMPIRE!

Meanwhile, as the Confederation-Imperials square off against the Dark Lords of the Sith, the sinister Bounty Hunters have also descended onto the afflicted world of Brosi on the hunt for Imperials and Sith alike. Will you find your target and earn yourself a score?

Or, perhaps, you are a mere civilian, entrepreneur or refugee landlocked to the planet during the months of quarantine placed upon Brosi and now this is your opportunity to escape the tyranny of the Sith-backed Ore-Dukes or the looming dystopia of Imperial Confederation rule?

Maybe you are one of the few of the criminal underworld brave enough to traverse the ruined, war-torn landscapes of Brosi to steal some of them rare ores you heard about?

The possibilities are endless.

Bring Your Own Objective!​

 

[Aspect of Defiance]

For months, the Dark Side had whispered its warning, not in fear, but in promise. The Imperial Confederation’s ascendance had been foreseen. Their hunger for legitimacy, to carve their resurgence into the bones of the galaxy, all of it lay bare to the sight of the Sith. They believed they were architects of fate. They never understood they were walking the path the Sith Order had paved for them.

The Sith were patient. While the Imperials consolidated power and boasted of their “unity,” the Dark Council, Darth Caedes , and others of the Holy Worlds moved in silence. Brosi, a name spoken only in briefings, became a crucible. The Candorian Blight was not a weakness but a weapon, It’s corruption bent through alchemy into something fouler. Spores thickened with venom, soil steeped in malice. The forests withered by design, stripped bare to conceal killing grounds shaped with precision. Pylons sunk deep into poisoned valleys hummed with power, their roots stretching like veins through the shattered bedrock.

In the heart of this decay, Darth Caedes wove his masterpiece of death. From the ashes of Brosi’s plague pits, he summoned the fallen back to serve, not as men, but as weapons. Entire grave fields stirred as ungodly forms clawed from blackened soil, their flesh lacquered with glistening rot, and their eyes burning with crimson fire. Sith alchemy bound bone and blight in a profane union, birthing legions of undead thralls clad in remnants of their former lives. They rose in silence, countless and tireless, a tide of death waiting beneath the poisoned wind for the hour of slaughter.

What the Imperials saw as abandonment was calculation. Garrisons withdrawn, comm lines silent, Shoengen left to rot. Every sign screamed vulnerability because the Sith demanded it so. Beneath the ruins, shield generators slumbered like coiled predators. Runes etched into the stone pulsed faintly, their geometries designed for slaughter. Every trench was masked beneath illusion. Every firing line lay buried under ash. Brosi was no battlefield. It was a snare.

Beyond the black horizon, in the hollow between suns, the second blade waited. Sith warships hung silent among asteroid shadows, hulls cloaked in gravitic veils. A phantom fleet was the hammer to the anvil below as patient as carrion birds. They would not strike the first blow. They would wait, circling, while the Imperials drove themselves deeper into the mire. When the order came, the void itself would ignite.

The Imperials arrived in strength, as expected. Their Destroyers split the sky like drawn sabers. Dropships burned paths through poisoned clouds, disgorging walkers and legions upon the ashen plains. Shoengen’s corpse loomed ahead, its glass towers fractured like blackened teeth. They believed themselves victors already. Command posts were established atop bones. Vox-lines buzzed with confidence. When the shield pylons first flickered against the horizon, they thought them ghosts of old defenses, relics sparking their last breath.

But the dead world began to breathe.

The ground shuddered as ancient pylons surged alive, bleeding crimson through the soil. Veins of light spiderwebbed across the valleys, igniting glyphs long buried. A low hum rolled like distant thunder as shields flared to life, sealing the skies in an iron shroud. Imperial artillery thundered and vanished in the crack of sudden silence as comms bled into static. Trapped between a closing sky and walls of energy, the Imperials realized too late the gravity of their folly.

That was when the Sith fleets moved. They fell upon the orbiting armada like wolves unchained, silent shadows erupting into fire. Destroyers flared and tore beneath volleys of crimson lances. Gravity wells bloomed like black suns, snaring ships in the void. Below, the land erupted in a symphony of death. Illusions peeled away as war-beasts poured from the ruins, and Sith warriors strode through smoke like phantoms crowned in blood.

They believed Brosi was their victory.

It would be their tomb.

Spoiler: SO OBJECTIVE ART

OBJECTIVE 1: STORM THE TOWER

OBJECTIVE 2: SEIZE THE MEANS OF PRODUCTION

OBJECTIVE 3: THE BATTLEFIELD IS CONSTANT CHAOS

 

[Revna Marr]

Objective Three
Tags: Srina Talon // Darth Caedes // Gerwald Lechner // Madrona A’Mia // Zal Aditi // Elmindra Xitaar ​

The Darkness rippled around Revna as she dipped her metaphorical talons within the ever present web of the Force; she stretched her senses far and wide, pushing her abilities to the very edge of what she could sense and feel. Within her sight, she saw a multitude of sparks - life forms, some glowing brighter than others and who echoed within the Force more than others. These were Force sensitives - most, if not all of them, Sith or otherwise connected to the Sith - protected from the Blight that surrounded them via rebreathers or other methods that blocked them from outright harm. But it was not these sparks that Revna was focused on - it was the ripple of warning, now coming stronger and more persistent than it had been for a while now.

She had Sensed it some time ago, but it was more of a disconcerting tug at the very edges of her intuition - the sense that something was looming ahead of them, a foreboding feeling that whispered at the edges of her mind, keeping her awake at night.

And then the whispers began to drift through hidden channels - spies and agents of espionage that worked for the Sith Order and were deployed across the breadth of the galaxy - began to relay word that the Imperials were on the move, and their likely target was the Thandon Star Cluster, the home of the Sith Holy Worlds.

Revna had been…suspicious…about the motives of their galactic neighbors for a while now; she’d been observant of movements and dealings in her own way, and of course she had built her own network of individuals who shared information with her as needed. The Imperial Confederation had been quiet, but their expansional progress in their area of space was noticed.

Especially as they moved to swallow up the worlds and space between them and the Holy Worlds.

But they had not presented themselves as a threat, yet. Not compared to the Sith’s ancient enemy, the Jedi and their precious Galactic Alliance. The two galactic powers were always teetering on the edge of open war - and thus she wondered in her own musings if the Imperials were using this as a sort of cover in order to get close enough to strike…assuming that their enemy would be looking elsewhere.

They wanted to surprise the Sith Order in their attack.

How foolish they were in their thinking.

The Holy Worlds were some of the most precious worlds to the Sith - and to leave them unguarded was unthinkable.

While the Imperials prepared, so did the Sith - and the pieces on the playing board were set in their place, awaiting the moment for the game to begin.

And that moment was soon to come. Very soon.

The ripple of warning through the Force had grown stronger…like a tidal wave crashing against the rocky shores of a cliff. She listened to it hum, then sing, its pitch becoming almost unbearable - the warning reaching its peak. She slipped from the web of the Force, fiery eyes opening as she said to those nearby: “They’re here.”

A heartbeat later, the skies above Brosi - all throughout the Holy Worlds - split as Imperial Destroyers ripped from hyperspace. In a moment’s notice, the stillness of anticipation and waiting shifted into the cacophony of war and violence as dropships emerged like hornets, carrying their loads of walkers and legions who were bent to take what didn’t belong to them.

Revna mused on that notion for a moment, seeing the irony in it. The Sith often took what didn’t “belong” to them either - at least in the views of others. But that was where those others made the mistake. Everything belonged to the Sith; they were simply taking control of what was theirs, and swatting the hands of the unworthy away from their dominions.

The Imperials…well, were certainly not worthy of that which had belonged to the Sith for many thousands of years.

Revna turned her burning gaze to Srina Talon as the Empress’s voice slipped into her ears, indicating that they had work to do now, before she shifted her attention to Darth Caedes as he too indicated that it was time to get started.

The dark robed Sith woman let her eyes settle upon her lover, her King, her ‘Ari, for a moment. Though war and strife and conflict were never far away for the Sith - she still felt a touch of somberness at how soon they had to face war together. But she knew that, through this, they would grow stronger as a couple. She was determined, despite her still fresh wounds that hadn’t quite healed, that she would be all that he needed her to be as his future Queen.

How fitting, that she…they…would be tested by the crucible that was war. It wouldn’t be their last test, either - that she knew for certain. How they worked together here, now, would set the stage for how they worked to keep what belonged to them in the future.

 

[Selrik Lorcas]

​

So it had come at last.

Selkirk rode down in the first wave of landing craft. Below him? Brosi. It was a non-important world, in the grand scheme of things, but there was an outbreak of plague there that, when the Confederation took control of the Caldera, could become a problem. Because of this, they could ill afford to allow it to remain uncontested. If the plague spread, it was difficult to say what would happen to them in the other battles that were to take place. It could be weaponized against them. Sith, even former Imperial groups, were known to do that. Cowardly acts, to be sure, but not ineffective.

The drop ship lowered the Bastion to the surface of the world, and immediately they were inundated with reports of alterations to the battlefield.

"Sir, forward forces are indicating the presence of zombies on the battlefield," the Captain in charge of the station said.

Selkirk frowned and looked down at the battle map. Zombies? From what intelligence had told them, this was not BlackWing or a similar outbreak. The presence of Zombies was unexpected. It wasn't something they couldn't deal with, though.

"Move flametroopers to the forward line to integrate with the scout forces. Any indication of intelligence among them?"

"Unknown at the moment, but we're already taking losses."

"All those who come into contact with the infected are to be quarantined if uninjured. If injured, they're to be dispatched immediately. I will not have a zombie virus infecting our forces."

The Captain hesitated only for a second, but nodded, "Yes, sir."

Around the Bastion, contingents of armor and troops were being dropped. Among them were AT-SW's, AT-AAW's, AT-IE's, AT-AW's, and AT-SWIV's. It was a formidable fighting force, and the armor should have little trouble with the zombie forces. Only the Sith forces would be a potential issue, but even those Selrik felt little fret over. This mission was one he'd been waiting for. On the field around him were numerous Uncordis operatives, including a unit of them heading out as Sentinels for a special mission to infiltrate the enemy lines. He sent a direct message, unspoken, to them to change their mission to hunt down the cause of the Zombie outbreak. Undoubtedly it was some Sith machination.

"Progress our forces into a defensive formation until all forces have landed. Maintain heavy armor at the front to keep the zombie forces at bay. Let's see what the enemy has for other defenses."

Lieutenant Rourke and his unit rode in a Cohort away from the main line of the Imperial forces. Their mission was to find and destroy any darkside artifacts that might be providing a boost to the enemy forces. Or, at least, that was their mission until he got a priority directive directly from the Executor Primaris altering their plans. Not unheard of. Under the circumstances, it was only a slight deviation for their original mission anyway.

"New orders from the Executor Primaris," he said as the driver sped them away. "Battlefield appears to be riddled with zombies. Probably Force induced. We've been tasked with finding the source, assuming there is one, and destroying it."

"Sounds like the right call for us," Halsey said.

"Agreed," the voice of Norton added. "If they're being controlled by an artifact or a ritual, destroying it will be of benefit to our forces on the battlefield."

"Only four of us, though," the last of their number, Korder, added. "Hope it's enough."

"We're the best of the best, so if we can't do it, there's no doing it," Rourke added. "Remember, KTF."

"KTF," the other three echoed.

Somewhere out there was the source of this thing, and as their lone vehicle sped off to find it, they didn't know what they'd be running into. Fortunately, they were kitted out for close range or ranged combat, and they all were heavily experienced. Whatever they came up against might think them an easy target, but they'd soon regret choosing to attack the force of Uncordis Sentinels. If they didn't, Rourke would eat his own arm when he became a zombie.

"We're outside of friendly firing range," the driver called back. "From here on out, it's just us."

That was the way they liked it.

OUTFIT: Moff Standard | GEAR: Blaster Pistol | COMPANIONS: Imperial Sentinels x4
TAGS: Darth Morta | Open​

 

[Lor'Vekka]

​

It wasn’t hard to sneak onto a world, not as an inquisitor. A subtle application of the Force, a little bit of makeup, some smooth talking and you could get yourself just about anywhere. It was often even easier for a Twi’lek, especially a Lethan like herself. So many men prized female Twi’lek’s for their body that it was quite easy to charm one's way into things.

But that wasn’t the case with Brosi.

Because of the outbreak, everything was a mess. Getting onto the world had involved sneaking around. Fortunately, her alignment in the Force was such that she didn’t feel out of place to anyone that might be feeling out their surroundings. One part of the operation that was easier for her than it would be for other Force users within the Confederation. At least the Knights would struggle mightily. She got a little enjoyment out of thinking about that. They didn’t care for those like her and she didn’t care for them, but she also just didn’t really care for much other than the Confederation itself since it was the reason she was no longer a slave.

She knew there would be plenty of uncontrolled Force users present on Brosi when the Confederation arrived, and it was her mission to try and deal with them. Particularly the ones in and around the tower. But she had to lay low for a while before that could happen, which meant pretending to be quarantined to avoid the virus.

However, as soon as the fleets appeared above Brosi, and dropships began raining down on the world like a plague of locusts, she changed into her combat gear, standard Inquisitorial fare, and left her hiding hole. Before the tower at the center of the city could close itself off completely, she jumped to a platform higher up, not more than a balcony, and let herself into the building. Almost immediately she noticed that the defenses were active, which wasn’t good for her, but she used the Force to conceal herself as best she could and started to move through the tower.

Her target? The first Force signature she came across.

OUTFIT: Armor | GEAR: Lightsaber
TAGS: Quinn Varanin ​

 

[PT-45 "COWL"]

​

They called themselves the Sith Empire. He called them enemies, for his very existence was ordained to the calling of purging practitioners of the Force from the galaxy that served as an opposition to the one, true Empire, as exemplified by the Empress, Her Aegis Eternal, Liraeth Deschart. Everything he did he did for the will of the Empress. His very life was completely dedicated to serving her and only her, unless such a time came where she fell and was replaced, at which point he would swear allegiance to her successor, such was his loyalty to the true Empire.

When they started landing, he was one of the first to do so. He was also one of the first to enter the city around the great tower. This was where there would be a concentration of those that needed to be purged, he was sure of it. His armor was in passive mode, applying turbulence to the Force in an area around him, something he hoped would draw the attention of those he was hunting. A spot of something unorthodox in the Force was sure to be of interest to them, and he actively wanted to be found.

For a hunter, it was great when the prey came to you.

In his hand he held his rifle, ready to be used if need be on any foe that appeared, such as some Sith troopers that popped around a corner on him. He tucked the rifle tight to his shoulder and fired open them with the precision of a highly trained, heavily experienced soldier. It didn’t even cause him to duck when they returned fire. In fact, he walked right at them, intending on pushing them back down and clearing the way for him to continue his hunt of his actual quarry. These troopers were nothing but nuisance. The regular forces could deal with them.

He itched for battle with the Forcers.

OUTFIT: LINK | GEAR: STAFF, Rifle
TAGS: Kasir Dorran and Apprentice​

 

[Barragh Nenn]

Location: Ore Conglomerate Mega-Tower rooftop
Allies: Imperial
Enemies: Sith; Velda Nar-Donna​

---

The Lambda-class Shuttle descended from the atmosphere escorted by a trio of TIE Fighters meant to ensure its safety.

Launched almost immediately after the Imperial Fleet had left hyperspace it was largely unmolested by the enemy. A Squadron of TIE Interceptors had originally accompanied it prior to its descent to engage enemy craft. All that was far behind it now.

The Ore Conglomerate Mega-Tower stood, imposing in the center of the fortress city of Shoengen. Impossible to miss, it was the tallest structure. Laser fire rose from the city, the sky above the world of Brosi was on fire with lances of energy that flickered in and out of existence.

The TIE Fighters passed over the Mega-Tower first then banked back around to ensure enemy craft weren't attempting to flank the shuttle.

The Lambda-class continued its descent, wings folding upwards as it sunk towards the roof of the Mega-Tower and a landing pad reserved for various craft. Twin rotation blaster canons would open up, spraying the pinnacle of the tower as it set down. Droids and other defenses were little threat to the shuttle which came outfitted with a deflector shield.

When safety was assured a ramp would extend from the shuttle.

Two Praetorian Guardsmen, armed with force pikes would disembark followed by a third cloaked figure in the background impossible to identify while a hood remained drawn over their head.

The Praetorians would dispose of any remaining Droids that the blaster canon onslaught had missed.

The Hand of the Empress had come to Brosi. There was something in the Mega-Tower, something that he wanted. He had been sent to retrieve the Data that the Empire wanted.

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Darth Caedes | Revna Marr | Gerwald Lechner | Elmindra Xitaar | Zal Aditi | Madrona A’Mia | Lysander von Ascania
Location: Force Nexus - Objective 3 [Chaos]
____________________________________________________

So many of their worlds were under siege... Dromund Kaas, Korriban, and Ziost...But it was Brosi where they would first retain a foothold. The Holy Worlds had protections in place, but this fractured, plague-beleaguered planet was tactically sound for a starting point. Not for the reasons most assumed...But because they made it so. Because, they were not unaware of the scheming of the Imperial Confederate.

The Order was many things...But being deaf and blind to the ambition of their enemies was not one of them.

Burnished orbs of molten gold turned toward the horizon with silvery disinterest when visions of Imperial forces began to fill her mind. The enemy wasn't particularly concealed, but why should they hide? The Sith Order had placed just enough effort forth to exude some sort of resistance, but the lack of action had all but welcomed the enemy into waiting arms. She was certain that tacticians and battle-minded men and women from the TIC had to be suspicious, but it hardly mattered. They had still come…Emboldened and brave, people of conquest, who delighted in such brazen trespass.

Did they know what awaited them? Did they know that the sky hadn't forgotten how to burn?

The pale woman stood at the edge of a broken embankment, where the ground sloped downward, into the ashen basin of what had once been a reservoir. Now, it was hollow. Dry. Laced with soot that stirred like powder in the wind. The husk of a city lay beyond it, Shoengen, distant and diminished from its former glory. A few of the grand towers had sunk into the ground like the ribs of some buried giant. Most of the infrastructure was still intact…Enough to make use of it—But it bore telltale signs of having suffered from a civilization panicking in an epidemic. There had been rioting. looting, and it could be seen in blown-out storefronts and structural damage. <<Once more…We are here. Once more, wolf of mine…>>

<<We are at war.>>

Gerwald Lechner would hear her voice project itself in the back of his mind regardless of the distance between them. It was soft. Saddened, perhaps, but resolute in their current course of action. The wind pulled faintly at the edges of her cloak, which hung black and seamless over the pristine plating of her chosen combat armor. Beneath smooth layers of neithweave and pyronium, a rebreather mask coiled tightly against the lower half of her face. It hissed every few seconds. A reminder.

One breath at a time…Always earned.

At her back, preparations were well under way. They had been on the surface for several days, and temporary shelters were often in deep need of repair, eaten through by a hostile environment. Ash and muck clogged filters to capacity. It had taken intense dedication and sleepless nights of experimentation to find the perfect spot for their endeavors, all the while hiding their presence with the grace of Darth Caedes , who provided the tools to keep them unidentified in plain sight.

No one was looking for living creatures among the mountains of dead...Or undead, as it were.

Brosi…Had not been lost to war. It was lost, before the war began—Lost to rot. She had given the order to burn away the decay, and even now, she wondered if this world spitefully resisted her presence. The Force here was not quiet. It swelled. Pressed. Pulled. She could feel it gathering beneath the surface like heat behind stone, where mass graves slept beneath a few inches of scorched soil. Where bodies had been stacked in unmarked pits by a panicked populace. At the time, there had been no cure.

The Empress could not afford to blink.

The Candorian Blight had begun as an illness, simple, but it swiftly spread into madness and ended in hunger. This area had bloomed and blossomed in the silence that followed, born of pain, death, and something without a name. It was a pain-filled yearning that pooled like blood beneath the planet's crust to form a deep and everlasting bruise.

Was it a true Force Wound? Had it festered power while the arboreal shadow @Madrona A'Mia slept beneath the ground? Many things came close few could live up to the claim. It took an intense amount of suffering, more than common death, but a transformation of the vilest order. The last time she'd encountered something so fully evolved, it had been because of the Bryn'adûl purge.

With that memory in mind…

Srina closed her eyes, reaching inward as her awareness narrowed to the epicenter below. Just for a moment. When her presence brushed the gathering tide of malignant energy, dark and heavy, the Force itself recoiled. It shuddered, like something very, very old remembering pain.

It was perfect.

When her eyes opened again, they shimmered with a fractured orange hue that was slow, distant, and reflective. Seeing events that had happened and things that had not yet come to pass. "We have much to do…", she murmured, letting the rancid wind catch her words past her mask, carrying them to Revna Marr first as the raven-haired woman was closest. The gust twisted them into a sluggish, spiraling ribbon that curled through the air before brushing past Darth Caedes with spectral grace. The psychic connection the triumvirate had forged and nurtured was an invaluable asset, but she saved it for the war ahead.

Everything she had...She saved for the war.

"The Imperials will find us eventually…But they exist at the end. We are…At the beginning."

The work had already started. The work would not be stopped…Let the Imperials march, let them believe that they were the first to move. The truth would come to them slowly.

And by then? It would be far too late.

Spoiler: Equipment

Wyvern Shadow (Armor) Rebreather Wedding Ring Sronias, A Queen's Ring Mother's Wrath Terentatek Body Gloves Karve Dropship

 

[Darth Caedes]

"They thought to catch us unprepared..."
—Darth Caedes, ruminations​

​

[// BROSI PLANETARY COMMS NETWORK_EMERGENCY SIGNAL //]​

<<They're here! The Imperials are here—!>>

<<kfffssshhhzzt—repeat, unknown and unregistered airspace—oh gods—oh g—!kfftssz>>

<<sszzzrrtzzz—evacuation protocols! We need to move. I said MOVE! Get the children, get to—!!>>

<<—transmitting to Sith Command—do you copy? They've breached atmosphere!! I repeat, they've breached—Kffzzrtsshh>>

<<sssrztt—wait. Wait. Still no response from ground teams—?!>>

<<—No this— Can't be real!! They wouldn't leave us to die. The Sith wouldn't—zzZzzRrtssh>>

<<Krrtzzztt—none of our ships in the air! No one's answering—!!>>

<<Kzzrtshh—repeat... Imp... Confederation... Imperial Confederation shi—!Kzzsshh>>

[// STATIC //]

Augustus Von Strauss War Marshal Helix

Thandon Star Cluster
Brosi System
Objective III

Fear and panic had been our illusion of choice, a lie, spoon fed to the enemy, the guise we wore to lure them in. We'd buried our knives in the dirt days ago, and now the Imperial fools ran toward them headlong, blindfolded and with bare feet.

I let the air of Brosi fill my lungs, let it coat the back of my throat and sting me with its sickness. It smells of smoke and burning hair, like someone had opened a fridge nearby, filled with expired milk. I breathe in the fowl winds of Brosi and open myself to the Force, questing out with my senses.

Far above, I can feel Elmindra's presence; her fleet lying in wait like a serpent beneath a stone just waiting for the Imperials to misstep and meet with the snap of her fangs. She had long prepared for this moment, watching alongside Caedes for years as the dissident rabble surrounding their Holy Worlds mustered and prepared for expansion. Imperial Remnants, scattered and confused, taking on new names as a means to distance themselves from past failure. He did not fear for her. Elmindra Xitaar had never made losing a habit. The agents of Kor'ethyr would strike hard and fast at her command, readied for war and prepared by their tribulations at the Academy. Alongside our allies from the Commonwealth, and the presence of a Dark Councilor, there could be only one outcome to the fighting in Brosi's orbit.

Despite myself, I flinch as the first explosions light up the sky. Always, I have hated war. Always, I am shocked by just how fast it comes on—like a wave breaking over unsuspecting worlds. One moment, silence. The next? Thunder and fire, and the ear splitting booms as red lines from turbolasers rake down upon desecrated soil, tossing blighted dirt high into the air. It sounds like rain as it patters back down around me.

On cue, battery pylons crackle to life from beneath city blocks, sending an electric charge through poisoned air. Shield generators vomit domes of iridescent plasma overhead, squelching like water thrown against hot metal where the bubbles collide to intersect. As ships begin to crowd the sky, gravity wells and interdiction fields sputter to life, casting out their nets and locking the Imperials into orbit. The subtle shift in gravity lifts my stomach and raises the hair along my arms and chest, on the back of my neck.

I open my eyes.

I am kneeling amidst the carcass of an outskirts town, neighboring the city of Shoengen. I could see its towers from here, tilted like old teeth above the horizon. Cradled beneath one arm is the Seed of Psilofyr, heavy and coarse to the touch. My other hand digs into the dirt beside a cracked sidewalk, dry and utterly depleted of life. Brosi's dying light cast everything in jaundiced tones—gray and blue storm clouds bruising the sky. Towering over us are the remains of hollow buildings, their windows shattered, walls charred from arson fires started during Brosi's collapse, some burnt down to their metal bones. Looted speeder husks lay overturned like animal carcasses, dead at the doorsteps of gutted storefronts long closed and now boasting only empty shelves. Ash drifted through the air in visible motes, carrying the Candorian pathogen with it.

The ritual site around me had been prepared over the course of prior days, built atop the mass-grave of a small town once called Kohong, according to the signage—a town which had once thrived before the Blight came and feasted upon its people. The Dark Side pulsed here, thick and blood-warm. A fledgling nexus formed by whichever events had robbed life from this place. Piles of dead bodies form stinking and oily messes beneath walls upon which crude graffiti tells the story of a world's ending. The blight had not been kind here. In their fear, the people had turned to violence and anarchy long before their lungs had blackened and they'd drown within them.

Revna stood beneath the rusted metal of a lifeless streetlamp nearby, beautiful and sharply featured. Sometimes it felt as if her presence was my entire world, even in moments like this; a world around which, more and more, I found myself helplessly orbiting, drawn in and terrified of being crushed. Terrified that the Force, in all its cruel and jealous cunning, would make of her one final test of my loyalty to the Dark Side.

Beside her, Srina Talon stood watching, her presence an unmistakable beacon in the Force, her jaw grimly set and determined. Nearby, Gerwald Lechner kept to the shadows, vigilant and pacing the perimeter like a loth-wolf. Every now and again I'd catch the flickering of his eyes in my periphery—steady and smoldering, anticipatory and on the watch. Despite myself, I couldn't help but admit that it felt good to have the Emperor's own executioner fighting alongside me—a Dark Councilor with quite a different reputation than the rest of his clandestine Order; more warrior than a sycophant.

My gaze drifts back to Revna. She carries herself with a limp now—another wound she wore like a badge of office, proof of her journey within the Darkness. I hated bringing her into this. Into war. Into my sorceries and abhorrent rituals. Hated putting her in danger, knowing that I could not always protect her. I often spoke to her about the necessary detachments of rule, the burdens to befall her as Queen one day, yet I held dear the secret of my own attachments to her well being. Hypocrisy. Yet I'd never claimed to be a good nor honest man. I do not lie to myself, however, not where I can afford it. I know that our path has always been marked with bloodshed and trial. I can only ask that my blood be spilled before her own.

Noise from explosions erupted again above us, booms from the atmospheric re-entry of Imperial ships and landing craft, descending into our cage. It woke the dead from their slumber. The Jen'ari stirred, twitching and croaking, quickly rousing hordes which began to stagger out from their hiding and into the streets, questing for food. I could feel their hunger beginning to stir, picture them huddled in dark places, gnashing their teeth and beginning to moan an unholy chorus. Zal Aditi had released them days ago, letting them run wild and feast, adding to their numbers as they happened upon feeble pockets of planetary resistance. Alas, there had not been much to feed upon, and in recent days they'd nested in sewer lines and subway tunnels, crawling into the lungs of the city.

I inhaled, grounding myself in the Force and drawing upon its protections. I pressed my fingers deeper into the dirt of Brosi's surface. The Force rippled outward and dug deep into the crust. I followed it, allowing it to guide me until my mind brushed against the slumbering presence of Madrona A’Mia .

Her mind churned in a fitful slumber, groggy and oversaturated with accumulated power. Almost, I did not recognize her, so vast was her presence in the Force. Almost. I smiled, closing my eyes again and falling into her presence, letting the vapor of my thoughts burn her to wakefulness. For years now, the neti woman had contented herself as his Apprentice—yet our relationship had never truly been that of two Sith. Almost, I longingly remind myself, we had become friends.

"A'Mia," I speak aloud, whispering, my voice carried off by the winds toward Shoengen.​

"It's time."​

I straighten then, letting the soil fall through my fingers as I stand.

"They're here," Revna says, breaking the thunderous silence.​

Srina's voice comes to me then from across the distance, crisp and alert, though with a certain airy and dreamy quality to it.

"We have much to do," it says.​

I nod my reply, casting a glance toward her in silent acknowledgment.

"Then let's get started," I proclaim in the voice of the King.​

​

 

[Saltare Dothon]

Saltare groaned as the injection burned through him, feeling like fire in his veins.

"That should wear off relatively quickly," the medical tech told him as she placed a small bandage over his injection site. "Side effects we've seen so far are relatively minor...but report anything outside the normal headaches, achiness, nausea to the medical staff and we'll get you fixed up. You're prescribed two more vials for your mission as well. Nothing fancy with taking them, pointy end goes into you, press the injection button on the other end, voila, you're in pain. NEXT!"

Saltare was ushered out of the room, pocketing the injections which would hopefully protect him from this Blight that was ravaging the world he was about to hot drop into.

____

"I feel like bantha poodoo," Logan offered to no one in particular as their dropship rocked.

They plummeted through the atmosphere of Brosi, another round of Ore-dukes that needed cleansing. The dropship they were currently in was a fat piece of hardware. Carrying several dozen men, walkers, and a myriad of other Imperial units. It was a lot of hardware, but also a large target.

It sped toward the world of Brosi, the once-thriving industrial world now choked full of smoke and black skies as the Blight had spread swiftly through the planet. "Timers are for six hours," Saltare told his troops, "You need to re-inject at 6 hours to keep the effects of the Blight away. DO NOT MISS YOUR WINDOW. Understood?" A cacophony of affirmatives assailed his ears. "Preliminary reports of the Blight are... not good, to say the least. You DO NOT want to contract this. DO NOT play around with your enviro-seals, DO NOT forget your injections. We're not only dodging blaster fire and missiles this time, but the true enemy may be smaller than you can even see. Keep your head about you, your buddies safe, and drive the Sith off this forsaken world."

Saltare preferred faster attack craft that gave him a better chance to make it to the ground than a fat lumbering piece of metal that could see him ejected into the darkness of space before he could bring his skills to bear. Didn't matter much at this point; however, he was screaming toward the planet with this contingent under his command.

Red warning lights and klaxons sounded throughout the ship as they began to near their LZ, the ship still shaking violently as they approached the surface.

"Prepare for disembarkation," the Pilot stated over the internal comms network. The voice echoed through the Rancor tank that Saltare and Inferno inhabited—two other Rancors held other special forces units who would follow Inferno squad.

"Get ready, we'll let the central ground units push forward first, then we'll activate cloaking and advance towards Delta-1. We'll breach it and cause havoc from the inside. Hopefully that shifts some Sith forces to us and gives our guys room to push up."

The large dropship landed with a heavy thud, the large cargo doors opened on their hydraulics, letting in the light of Brosi for the first time. As the doors dropped, the sounds of the battlefield roared in. Explosions, blasters, kinetic fire, starfighters, and in-atmosphere fighters were all heard simultaneously as rounds detonated and engines roared on the battlefield.

The Stork dropship took heavy fire as its internal troops began to dismount, its armor absorbing some but not all the weapons arrayed against it. But it wasn't without its weaponry, the Stork was purpose-built to defend its precious cargo as they disembarked, and it did just that. Chainguns opened fire on nearby troops, the brass casing ejected from the guns falling like rain from the mounted weapons. Laser cannons fired, their rounds detonating on distant targets while the missile systems onboard erupted, smoke trailing as they lashed out at the enemy.

Several other Storks landed nearby, guns opening up as their troops disembarked. The Imperial Confederation had brought hundreds of soldiers to Brosi, spilling out of dropships like ants invading a hostile colony. Modified AT-ATs, tracked and repulsor lift tanks, hundreds of troopers, speeder bikes, and a myriad of other combat troops were pushing forward to engage the Sith.

The first unit out of Saltare's Stork, an AT-SG, activated its shield generator, covering the following units as its monstrous body absorbed some of the fire from the Sith forces. Imperial Fleet forces in orbit were also firing down on the Sith defenders. But in the midst of it all, the sky crackled with energy, and shielding split the sky. The defenders had trapped them inside, and now the Fleet couldn't help them without first taking down the shield generators the Sith were using.

"Activate cloaking," Saltare told Logan, "Get us on the way."

The Rancor's cloaking device activated, giving them some cover as the engines opened up and the vehicle sped forward, followed by the other two Rancors. While TIC forces walked, sped, or stomped toward Sith forces entrenched across the battlefield, Inferno went the opposite way, making a wide circle and attempting to flank the Sith forces.

Saltare and his troops sped across the battlefield, kicking up dirt behind them. Saltare couldn't stop physics, and while the cloaking device hid them from enemy scanners and eyes, the dirt trail behind them would be a dead giveaway to a season recon or scout trooper. He could only hope the offensive underway by TIC forces was enough to cover their flank across the battlefield.

"Inferno to Selrik Lorcas and other allied forces, the Sith have activated shield generators, disabling orbital support. Inferno is changing mission, we're going after the shield generators. Transmit shield generator coordinates to me when we get a location on them."

What stood in their way, however, was not just the Blight, but the creatures and horror that came with it.

Jacen Breska

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: 1 Hold the Tower
Equipment: Lightsaber - Sword - Dagger - Robes
Tags: Drystan Creed
--------------------------------------------

Shoengen hadn't escaped the Blight which had wracked Brosi for the past few weeks, rather its urbanized nature had meant that the death toll here had been catastrophic indeed. There hadn't been many citizens left to evacuate in preparation for the coming siege, none that bore the Blight were allowed to leave after all, but the checkpoints and quarantine zones which had facilitated the evacuation efforts still stood and would now serve their secondary purpose as defensive elements.

While the victims of the Blight had been made to rise again to clog the streets and stand between the invaders and the soldiers rushing to the defense, for once Darth Strosius wasn't among the frontlines. He didn't much care for the undead in truth, even if they were rather useful in this regard He simply refused to bear with their presence for long. Instead He sought to help direct the defenders and repel the coming Imperials from the best vantage point in the city.

The Brosian Ore Conglomerate Mega-Tower loomed over Shoengen and was the most obvious command post to secure for both sides, a towering structure which could hold the center of the city for whomever captured it first. A pity that in their haste and foolishness, its previous occupants had left its defensive systems active and loose so that not even the defenders could make use of it. A mistake that, one He was done carving His way through to some sort of control center in this Force-forsaken spire, He intended to punish with impunity.

Darth Strosius had torn His way, both literally and figuratively, through no less than two doors and half a dozen security turrets already and He was barely a few good steps away from the nearest landing pad. His lightsaber bathed the corridor in crimson as He marched towards the next door, not even bothering to see if this one was potentially unlocked despite the last two being biometrically sealed. Instead He simply threw His free hand forward and gripped the door control in His gauntlet's claws, ripping the offending device out and loosing a crackle of lightning from His fingertips so that the doors shuddered open to reveal another corridor beyond.

One where the security turrets were already swinging around to point at Him, albeit this corridor at least had multiple doors to explore unlike the last one. Any improvement was good improvement He supposed, even as He raised His lightsaber to deflect the first incoming shots from the turrets before resuming His march forward.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

Allies: Srina Talon | Darth Caedes | Revna Marr | Elmindra Xitaar | Zal Aditi | Madrona A’Mia
Enemies: The Lord of Hunger
Equipment: Lord Commander Armor | Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne
| Strømafbryder​

The air was stale, made stagnant by the work which preceded the battle. Something clung to the breeze, a familiar sensation. It was the promise of war. Gerwald could almost taste it through his rebreather. It was meant to filter toxins, not fragrances of the mind or force. His eyes closed briefly as he drew upon the force.

Once again he would send his legion to battle.

Once again he would bloody himself to defend a home that was not his.

This was the price of duty. It was the demand of loyalty. Perhaps it would always be his most glaring fault. The Dread Wolf would always answer her call. Few knew it was not Empyrean that held his leash, but his bride. The Echani Empress whom Gerwald had known longer and better than any of the Sith who imposed their will upon the galaxy. His life was her twice over now. She knew it, but did not abuse it.

A subtle shift, the breeze turned with it. The Lord Commander smiled beneath his mask. Jasmine and rain overtook the stale aroma of war.

She called.

<<Once more…We are here. Once more, wolf of mine…>>

<<We are at war.>>

Srina Talon spoke to his mind as though she stood next to him. Distance did not matter to them. They were connected at a level beyond the limits of geography. It was a reminder that even though she did not pull on his leash often, the tether was hers to command at will.

<< "Then let us make our enemy sick of it." >>

His answer was both an acknowledgment and a pragmatic response. It was her native tongue as much as combat was that of her people. There was a hint of sorrow on her words despite how certain they came. His reply simply offered a way to assuage the threat of this resurgent enemy and the bitter taste of grief.

Gerwald reached for another.

<< "She beckons." >>

His voice fell to the only one who commanded the Dread Wolf entirely. If Srina Talon held his life twice over, Naedira Darcrath held his heart and soul. She had always found the wintry empress a dangerous person, not who she had once been. Gerwald was not either, but enough of him seemed to remain. She was elsewhere on Brosi. He hated that they were not together, but the she-wolf would not see their son fight alone.

<< "Come back to me unharmed." >>

He opened his eyes, the taint of the darkside having turned their hue a long time ago. Were it not for the wolf the natural blue color would have been long forgotten. Today there was no reason to rely on the beast to mask them. Gerwald needed to be what he had always been on the battlefield, imposing and immoveable.

He hated to wait.

The quiet preparations of the others only stirred the uneasiness of his impatience. Gerwald was a strategist and a warrior, but once the plans had been laid it was time to fight. They were not the aggressor here, no matter how much the Dread Wolf would have preferred it. Their plans were sound. The trap was set, but it required a stillness which did not come natural to the Lord Commander. He kept telling himself this was a hunt, and that he was already circling the prey.

He looked to where the others were gathering. Srina Talon , Revna Marr , and Darth Caedes came together, their speech barely landing on his ears. His lupo hearing did not fail him, even now. He would know when he was needed as long as he kept an ear attuned to them. Whatever this particular ritual was, Gerwald and his raiders were on the ground to defend it.

A breath.

His eyes fell to Darth Caedes . The King of Korriban, among other titles, had rallied his allies and forces to push back the threat to the Holy Worlds. His dark creations saturated the planet's surface, and his work started long before. His vassal, a voice, had informed the War Council of the plan, and Gerwald found it acceptable. When the Imperial fleets arrived they would not find Brosi to be what they expected, but rather it was now a dead world filled with creatures of the like. It had been his plan which the Dark Council expanded upon. His ideas were the seedbed for their strategy to germinate.

Gerwald could only hope that Caedes would prove himself to be a champion today.

"They're here."

The Dread Wolf looked to the skies as Revna Marr spoke.

"We have much to do,"

"Then let's get started."

Gerwald gripped the hilt of his lightsaber as the anticipation of the imminent battle to come washed over him. He let out a howl. His raiders did the same as they circled the perimeter of the ritual site.

"Do not break. We hold the line. No mercy, no surrender! Only victory and glory!"

 

[Ronhar Tane]

[USER ACCESS: TK-3301]
[SUBJECT: ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US]
[OBJECTIVES: I/II/III)
[ACCESS CODE: N9TT-9G0A-B7FQ-RANC]
[PROCESSING...]
[PROCESSING...]

[ACCESS GRANTED!]
[BEGIN REPORT...]

Compared to the fleet that had been assembled at Minntoonie, Fleet Admiral Vorin Zonill thought that his present fleet was somewhat lacking in presence. To be sure, two Vilifier-class Star Destroyers, one Nebulon Fire-class Light Carrier and three CR 125 Corvettes were certainly nothing to scoff at, and normally would be more than sufficient for engaging enemy forces or participating in planetary blockades. However, Zonill was facing an enemy that Mahporeem had never fought before, an enemy that would fight with reckless abandon no matter what was thrown at them.

That enemy...was the Sith!

Zonill had only heard tales of their savagery and barbarism in combat, how they created artificial monstrosities to to their fighting for him. As much as he was aware, the current situation on Brosi was a direct result of their meddling, and now the planet had descended into utter chaos.

It would be up to the mighty Imperial Confederation to restore order once and for all!

Of course, that was much easier said then done, especially given the stiff resistance that Zonill and the other Confederation Admirals were sure to face. Yet this time, Zonill had a ship with him that had not been present for the last battle. She was the largest and most powerful sheet in the entire Mahporeem Navy, and her capacity for holding starfighters and raw materials was unmatched by any other ship her size.

That ship? The MIN Collateral Star!

Created from a number of various ship models, the Collateral Star was as intimidating as she was temperamental, and she had missed the previous engagement at Minntooine due to a variety of maintenance issues. She had, however, been fully repaired in time for the upcoming campaign against the Sith, and had been placed under the command of newly promoted Fleet Admiral Vorin Zonill for just this occasion.

Hopefully, she would provide Zonill with the difference in firepower than he needed against the Sith.

After all, Mahporeem had never been a naval powerhouse by any stretch of the imagination, and the capital ships that they did possess were most certainly outmatched by most other factions.

Truly, it would be up to the starfighters and support craft to make up the difference in power.

And what a collection of these starfighters and support craft that had been brought along! Hundreds of snubfighters, bombers, and transport craft were ready for combat, having been meticulously inspected for even the slightest signs of damage or technical problems. STX-TIEs, Z'Ceptors, Y-Fenders, AX-Wings and even some Gnetocarro-class Starfighters had all been prepped for the upcoming battle, and were ready to fly at a moment's notice. They would be supporting the TIE Bombers, "Stork" Dropships and Lambda-class YT-1760 Annihilators as they bombarded the planet, destroying any opposition in their wake.

With their combined firepower, Zonill was confident that the Confederation would emerge victorious, no matter what kind of opposition that they might face.

Yet, he couldn't help but worry. To be sure, he was as well prepared as he could be: he had read the treatises, obsessively come over the holo-tapes and even talked strategy with Admiral Squesha during her last visit to Mahporeem. But would it be enough? Zonill was still relatively untested in battle, and he had never fought an enemy like the Sith before.

As he pondered what was yet to come, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Breathe, Fleet Admiral, breathe", came the calming voice of Captain Sellferr, as he walked besides Zonill.

"Captain", Zonill acknowledged.

"I suppose a congratulations is in order for your promotion, sir. Once this mess has been cleaned up, we'll be sure to celebrate."

A wry smile crossed Zonill's face.

"Of course, Captain, of course. Who could forget the last celebration that you held, after all?"

"I don't suppose I know what you mean, sir", Sellferr replied, as a smile crept onto his face as well. No one was quite sure what the two men were referring to, and neither Zonill or Sellferr was likely to tell anytime soon.

"Very good, Captain. Is my ship prepared?"

"Of course, sir. All systems are standing by, and are awaiting your order."

Zonill nodded grimly at Sellferr's statement. It was time to fight, and for Zonill, it would surely be a baptism by fire.

"Very well. Have all ships jump to hyperspace on my mark. And...mark!"

The assembled fleet blasted off into hyperspace, their final destination known to them, but what they would find at Brosi most certainly not...

​

Ronhar watched in amazement at the number of droids that were being loaded onto his Stork Dropship. He couldn't recall the last time he had seen so many KX/B1 "Monster Droids" and Refurbished B2 Super Battle Droids in one location. Of course, they were here for good reason: after all, droids didn't get sick, and they definitely couldn't be turned into mindless zombie creatures. With the virus raging across Brosi, they would prove especially useful in taking over the planet once and for all.

As they marched aboard, Ronhar glanced down at the anti-viral medication that he had been supplied with. Every member of his team had been ordered to take these suppressants at regular intervals, lest they succumb to the virus and join the legions of the reanimated dead. Ronhar wasn't sure just how effective this stuff really was, but he wasn't leaving anything to chance. He jabbed the needle into his neck, where few of his organic matter still remained, as he headed over to the dropship.

Today's objective? The Brosian Ore Conglomerate Mega-Tower.

Ronhar had been ordered to storm the tower with his Storm Commandos and seize whatever data had been left behind. Whatever was inside was said to be especially sensitive and important, which is why Ronhar and his men had been selected for the job.

The plan itself was simple enough: insertion by Stork Dropship around the perimeter of the tower, after which Ronhar and his men would go inside and collect the data.

Of course, Ronhar knew that such missions always had a way of going awry.

The latest intelligence had indicated that the tower's emergency defense systems were fully operational, and would more than likely obliterate anything that tried to gain access to it.

With a bit of luck, Ronhar and his men would slip inside undetected, grab the data, and get out before any alarms were raised.

What was the worst that could happen?

Ronhar felt the Fool's Errand make the jump to lightspeed. It would only be a matter of time before they arrived at Brosi.

And when they did...it would be time to seize the planet once and for all!

[ACCESS AUTHORIZED TO THE FOLLOWING PERSONS ONLY]
(Tags)

Vakhari Lutris
Haro Aven
Naamino Zuukamano
Sith Fleeters

[END REPORT]
[USER LOG OFF: SUCCESSFUL]​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Battle Bard
Allies: Madrona A’Mia | Lucette
Enemies: Tova Zyl | Seraphina Pryde

​

Beside him in grotesque repose, a brutish rig with twin fuel tanks glistened under the planet's sky. The pipes, like veins, fed into something not mechanical, but merciless. The AI-214x Kylox Flamecaster was entirely capable of decimating whatever lay ahead into columns of ash.

Lysander lifted another cigarillo, the tip kissed by the emitter’s heat. First there was a hiss, then a brief cherry like glow, as the smoke of his constant indulgence begged to mingle with the stench of death that would soon cover every inch of this forsaken planet. The teen’s fingers trembled, not solely from the adrenaline pumping wildly through his veins, but now from the carsunum coursing about. Another slow drag to his lips; inhale… hold. The exhale came out in ribbons, as though it were sacrificial, a cruel reminder of the screams ready to join it.

It wasn't in the nature of the younger Sith to give in to such indulgences, but the sight of Danger Arceneau's infamous white aurodoim case, left on a counter before his departure, proved too tempting; and so, both hands seemed to move on their own, snatching up three, maybe four sticks and tucking them into a pocket, long before his mind could even register the action. Perhaps, it was part of his descent into the darkness, this.. surrender to impulses, a willingness to savor every sin.

Already drenched, sweat was pooling along his brow, neck, ribs; clearly, it was a mixture of the humidity and effects from multiple sedatives. After enough time around Professor Madrona A’Mia , the Neti had learned to calibrate his doses just right.

But the spice, that’d been his own reckoning.

A soft pant would escape through clenched teeth while his heart pounded violently, threatening to burst out of the breastplate, but at least the Kainite armor felt lighter.. barely there. That shift also unsettled him, reminding him that he was wearing something that belonged to another doctrine.

Revna Marr 's scars and the images of her Master, Darth Strosius , swirled in his mind; therefore, he felt the need to make his allegiances, his true loyalties known. Thus, before leaving Korriban, he had defiled the armor by spray painting Wonosa's symbol across its polymer shoulders in scarlet.

A crimson bandana hanging loosely around his neck offered some assistance to the relentless sweat, drinking the moisture. Blonde locks stuck messily to his face, dripping with perspiration as he stole a glance the Felacatian, Soah Ty’Jyn , standing nearby. Since the first time he saw the girl, she'd always adorned that resting-Nexu-face. Admittingly, she wore it well, for if the expression was meant to be repellent, then he made sure to avoid her as much as possible. But now, something about it resonated with him, igniting a primal spark within his core, impossible to ignore.

Different colors danced in waves at the edges of his vision.. Violent, gold, green, a bloom of euphoria that mixed right with the tunnel vision ahead.

In his mind's eye, he saw a single bridge before him, and he was the only way to reach whatever destination these invaders sought. No reinforcements, no allies.. just him, and a silent promise, made to himself. Not only for Brosi, but for the greenhouse at Kor'ethyr, for the network, built from nothing, that kept the credits flowing after all funds were severed from Ukatis.

Lysander would die before allowing that to happen again.

The burning stick cast aside, he lowered the helm, its seal whispering with a hiss. Then, his weapon was retrieved.

"Lightweight baby," he murmured, the words dripping with dark amusement as his index finger twitched near the trigger.

He was ready to burn Brosi to the ground.

Departing the fractured cathedral, he followed the edges of the city, where silence should have still lingered.. but it didn't. The Imperial forces had arrived.

"Priority channel established."

The feed surged to life. It was the only one that truly mattered to him in such circumstances.

[Encrypted Comm Transmission] Origin: Taral Mk. II – Ghost Link Channel

“Ghost Link,” came a cool whisper. “Iceman, Lieutenant Horns, Mistuh Ignati.. hear me now.”

Now, he was connected with Haro Aven , Naamino Zuukamano , and Varin Mortifer .

Head angling towards the sky, it automatically made him begin reflecting on something long lost. The Sith's voice became melodic, and Lysander let it carry steadily through the comms without hesitation. "Ash in my mouth, her name branded upon my chest like a curse. The stars above Brosi, they taunt me, for they will never compare to her hazel eyes." His knees bent, weight shifting, gripping the rig like a beloved guitar, wrist flicking as if strumming different chords. "I whisper her name into the void, but there is no answer, so I speak in fire instead!”

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

Objective One
Brosi
Beneath The Surface
Outskirts of Ore Conglomerate Mega-Tower
Theme

Direct Engagement: Lysander von Ascania | Lucette |
Tova Zyl | Seraphina Pryde

Mentioned/ Nearby: Badawans of Kor'ethyr, Darth Caedes
and anyone attempting to enter the tower.

Something fetid and rotten had taken residence on Brosi. The dark side could be considered responsible for a great many unnatural things, but whatever A'Mia had become during the intervening time since she first arrived planet-side was now far and beyond just the scope of unnatural.

Her form hardly knew bounds, so thoroughly dug into the soil and spread throughout was she. A'Mia's reaching, grasping roots and tendrils had carved their way down to the very bedrock. After the neti let loose roughly half of the swarms and plagued hoards contained within her gargantuan form, she'd burrowed deep.

Though her time imprisoned on Kashyyyk had been unplanned and frustrating, A'Mia learned a few valuable lessons from the experience. Foremost, was the unique vantage point offered by giving up the sight of her eyes for a time in order to perceive as an entire planet does. Though her hibernation on Brosi was not so prolonged or complete, the arboreal woman was still able to gather valuable intelligence about the terrain and various access points within the infrastructure built there.

Additionally, if Brosi were truly beset by enemy forces— as intelligence lead the Order to believe that it might— A'Mia had set herself up firmly with home-field advantage. If the Imperial's struck elsewhere? So be it… She had designs on Brosi regardless.

A'Mia sank deeper and deeper into her tactical torpor. Few things would cause her to stir, and only one thing would bring her fully into wakefulness as a battle ready behemoth. Deep beneath the plagued and beleaguered surface of Brosi, A'Mia Madrona slumbered.

A boot crunching upon loose rock somewhere.

The tremulous breath released from a tensed jaw.

Rumble​

That familiar heartbeat, clever lothcat reflexes alight with chemical enhancement.

A sudden, rustling breeze​

Some few hundred feet beneath the surface, a creature slithered and stirred. Not yet awoken from reverie, but aware as if in a lucid dream.

A'Mia's senses reached upward from her subterranean cocoon and explored, seeking out that familiar presence.

Lyyyysaaaanderrrr​

The sleepy, stretched out word found his mind like leaves blowing in the wind. Soon, her influence would be unmistakable as she willed the Force to cloak him protectively. The Lord Seer had been slowly building her ability to control disease, with secrets shared between herself and the Wonderworker, countless hours spent in the lab, and innumerable experiences in the field, A'Mia wielded the ability to ward off and even control some of the galaxy's most deadly illnesses.

With the entire planet wide ecosystem of Brosi now in freefall, with the death-toll ticking ever higher each passing second, the Kor'ethyr Professor would not allow such a promising student to be compromised. The Weave moved about Lysander to swaddle him with an invisible boon.

Tell your fellows… urge their caution… I will not shield them all…​

An errant thought, the tug of similarity and recognition. A child… no, grand-child of Taeli Raaf was also present. The Sith Shadow decided to extend a similar protection, though the clever girl might not necessarily need it if she was anything like her kin. A'Mia did not know the girl personally, so did not yet speak to her, but absently made note that she ought to pursue discussion with her when next the opportunity presented itself.

Still half asleep, A'Mia shifted about fitfully as if trying to find a more comfortable way to rest, and the ground shook with her adjustment. Soon enough the stupor retook her, all while unbeknownst to her preparations were being made across the planet and out in orbit. To her slowed, stretched, and elongated sense of time, a mere blink of a moment elapsed before the command came.

"It's time."

That was enough.

The King’s will awoke a slumbering giant and all of Brosi within a twenty mile radius of the Mega-Tower began to quake.

​

​

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Soah Ty’Jyn | PT-45 "COWL"

​

Monsters weren’t born; they kneeled first.

Amidst the ruins of a cathedral, Kasir bowed in reverence, an echo of the broken stone that surrounded him; the ceiling, partially collapsed, and shards of stained transparisteel littered the floor, like fallen tears. The air carried a sickly sweet scent of ash, with each breath clawing at his throat, even as he adorned a fresh suit of armor.

From his perch, he shot a brief glance toward Lysander von Ascania , meeting only for a moment, before turning away. The silence spoke volumes, and once the younger Sith departed, the chorus of undead followed, stirred beyond the walls of the building, their murmurs like a lullaby to the Sangnir.

Above Shoengen, Sith ships circled like predators, and the distant arrival of Imperial forces added to the tense atmosphere, each second bringing them closer to an inevitable clash. Between his senses and connection to the Force, Kasir perceived everything nearby, threading through the layers as he detected scents, vibrations, and heat signatures.

He sought not to escape, but to prepare, to sharpen both purpose and ready his mind. Before initiating his ritual, Kasir's eyes closed, absorbing the words spoken by the apprentice of Revna, his sister in faith. The message settled deep within the marrow, a drumbeat in solitude.

The helm settled over his pale visage, not ideal for prayer, but necessary nonetheless, for there were storms approaching.

Upon knees planted against the cold stone, Kasir's calm composure, surely unnatural to any observer. Venomous, hushed incantations slithered from lips of chilled silk, while the index and middle digit clicked together, counting each repetition.

Before him lay a ceremonial blade, one of beauty and brutality, having cut through foes from Sevarcos to Woostri, and beyond; perhaps more importantly, it was the only witness to the viciousness that lurked within.

Each note of his voice carried the weight of sins. "Wonosa, forgive what I've become, for I no longer breathe but still remember; Kerstas, strip me of all compassion, so that I may not carry faces; Tikras, hold me together, lest I succumb to the fray."

Drawing a long breath, he continued, prayers transforming into promises of violence. “Kerstas, break my mercy, and teach my blade to savor the scream. Tikras, discipline the beast that wears my face. A flame among cinders, I am prepared to drink the fall."

From the corner of refuge, Kasir's gaze lifted, fixated on the Felacatian, a figure clad in obsidian armor that caught the dark crystal in his orbs. Though he was unbothered by the thought of her hearing him, a final passage bloomed in his mind; this one, however, was reserved for the ancient tongue of Ur-Kittat.

"Soah, unburned, kvapas unbroken. Galez tu'iea silence buti tave wo itsu nu niekada noreti kia keli. Ar nu atsikla, tegu zhol buti negu tu'iea atmena. Ar nu selien, tegu zhol buti lauke shame beneath tu'iea gaze. Setup nu "neviz, tegu Wonosa unmake nun negu nu unmake tu."

A brief pause ensued, before quiet exhales were drawn once more.

"Setup Bogan require kad zo fazien mirtis, then tegu zhol buti manosi. Kad setup require tave mirtis iv ny, tegu zhol buti nun kuris burns. Setup nu darytis ash, tegu anas staenas gana greta tu, mazo anas tau isar nenx touch tu'iea vadinti. Nu isar nenx uzpra nuo xalone, nu sua prosal zhol. Nu isar nenx uzpra nuo nulis, vi nu sua beyond zhol. Kad tu'iea shape kash kash nuyak flame, ir kash tave slaughter, nu valia doz'van tu'iea voice."

Embers of pride burned in the depths of his stare, for doubt was a stranger, snuffed out so long ago. And as Kasir's words faded into the abyss, the Darkseeker shed all remnants of humanity, so that it might rot as their foe would soon enough, in Brosi's soil, and he, to become an instrument of death.

Rising like a wraith, dagger sheathed at the belt, he came forward, and deliberately. Where her shadow once clung to the floor, his own engulfed it. The Sangnir spoke softly, "The tower has waited long enough. It's time.”

 

[Varin Mortifer]

His head was dipped low, hands gently clasped over the other as he rubbed his thumb over the Wonosan insigne pendant that latched to his necklace. Silent, lost in thought of the battle to come as the ship rattled in flight from turbulence. Everyone had taken their place either at their arms or in their seats waiting for the doors to open into a battle hellscape. The comm in his ear came to life with a familiar voice.



“Iceman, Lieutenant Horns, Mistuh Ignati.. hear me now.”



Varin answered back quietly.



“Clear…”



He reached into his side pouch retrieving a small syringe tool, the liquid laced with a drug to eliminate pain, enhance strength, speed and increase aggression. He hoped to Bogan he wouldn’t need it, but it was his fall back just in case.



His armor fit perfectly to him, like a second skin. Maneuverability was no issue, but he was a tad concerned with the gaps in the plating. He sighed to himself as he checked the straps on his new retractable shield. It could stop blaster bolts from rifles, and slight glances from a saber, but it still needed work. He grabbed a nearby container that housed a red liquid, thick and viscous. With it he painted his family's coat of arms on his chest, as well as some rune. In the ancient Sith tongue he began to pray into his mic.



“We are warriors, we rewrite maps, planets and galaxies. The world will quake with our steps, the suns will blacken with our shadows, and we will unlock the valve to the red rivers of war. In Bogan’s Name, witness us as we send you offerings of suffering, fear and pain. Lead us to victory as our spearhead through the armor of opposition, and maim those who would oppose your rule.”



His voice fell silent as his prayer reached out to not only his crew but anyone near his connection, before he swapped back to the private channel.



“Gang, don’t forget, the first rule of war…is to have fun.”



He smirked darkly as his cloak began to smolder, the flames did not burn the cloth, but coated it in a usable fire source.



“They will not take our homes, not without a hell of a fight. Let them know the price of such transgression is the weeping of their mates and the abandonment of their children!”



His blood began to boil as the anxiousness to taste blood began to excite him.



Lysander von Ascania Naamino Zuukamano Haro Aven Soah Ty’Jyn

 

[Calin Rakel]

Unto The Breach transitioned into real space, its black hull absorbing the light from the nearby star. The rusty orange accents decorating the ship gleamed like a sunset on a distant world as the massive ship brought its bulk to bear on the world laid out below it, and the enemy buzzing around it. The Venator III-Class Star Destroyer was Calin Rakel's ship until his newer Kharon-class was outfitted.

In its wake, Calin Rakel's portion of the 7th Fleet followed in tow. Three other Venator-class star destroyers flanked Unto The Breach on either side, one Hofund-class fast cruiser drifted below the Venators, a picket line of five Celox-class frigates shored up the frontal arc of his fleet, providing ECW abilities and anti-fighter flak, and on either flank of his fleet, seven of the fast attack Loki-class corvettes waited for the go-ahead to pick off crippled or out-of-place enemy ships while providing a deterrent for the enemy who may think to flank.

"Shields up, red alert," Calin ordered to his crew, his voice steady. "Launch starfighter squadrons, keep five squadrons in reserve for now. Move into high orbit and support our ground forces as they deploy."

Calin swiveled his command chair to look at the holographic display in front of him, showing the world of Brosi floating in space in front of his fleet. His hand cupped his face, his mind racing with the myriad of back-and-forth tactics he may need to employ when the enemy inevitably confronted them. He watched on the display as streams of Stork, HAAT, and other support ships streamed toward the surface of Brosi, ready to deploy TIC forces.

"Prepare ground forces to support Inferno Squadron and TIC forces on the surface. I want blockade runners and fighters to shield our ground forces as they make their run for the surface."

Calin tapped several buttons on his command chair, bringing up a frequency to nearby Imperial forces. "TIC forces, this is Admiral Calin Rakel. The 7th is in-system and deploying; our ground forces are launching toward the surface. If you have blockade runners and fighters to spare, I could use them to protect the ground troops on their approach."

"Gunnery, prepare target solutions for enemy craft and positions on the surface. Bring the rain once you have target coordinates." Calin switched his frequency over to his fleet. "This is Rakel, hold positions and prepare for the enemy, we're not here to be heroes, we're here to grind the Sith beneath our boots. Watch your sector and protect those on your flanks; the Sith will posture and let their emotions guide them. Your Imperial resolve and training will show them the errors in their ways. Show no mercy, Rakel out."

Calin looked out the forward view screen before glancing at the holographic display attached to his command dais. His task force readied itself to engage the Sith. Starfighters peeled away from Capital ships and began their journey toward the surface or on roving patrol, waiting for enemy combatants. In contrast, his larger ships devoted themselves to jamming the enemy frequencies and readying themselves for void combat should it come, weapons batteries getting firing solutions while deflector shields came online and boarding parties stood ready.

Calin rotated back to the forward viewscreen, watching his ships send streams of troops and fire toward the surface, buckling enemy emplacements and churning the ground beneath the enemy.

"SIR!" came a straggled call from the sensor officer, "Communications just got cut off with the surface. There's interference and some type of shielding covering the ground. We can't punch through it; our fire is ineffective. Sir, we're getting anomalous readings in orbit...there are distortions to gravity emanating from the surface and extending into orbit, it's trapped one of the Loki corvettes!"

"Get me communications with fleet command immediately," Calin said, "Find out what's going on."

Spoiler: FLEET COMP

4 Venator-class Star Destroyers:

1. "Unto The Breach" Venator III-class star destroyer - Undamaged
   • 5 squadrons of TIE/DA (8 fighters per squadron)
   • 4 squadrons of Stork Heavy Dropships (4 dropships per squadron)
2. "Say My Name" Venator III-class Star Destroyer - Undamaged
   • 9 squadrons of TIE/DA (8 fighters per squadron)
3. "Hush Now" Venator III-class Star Destroyer - Undamaged
   • 9 squadrons of TIE/DA (8 fighters per squadron)
4. "Two for flinching" Venator III-class Star Destroyer - Undamaged
   • 9 squadrons of TIE/DA (8 fighters per squadron)

(5) Celox-class Frigates - Undamaged

• 1 squadron of TIE/ss (16 fighters per squadron) per Frigate
• 1 Squadron of HAAT/i (16 gunships per squadron) per Frigate

(7) Loki-class Corvettes - 6 Undamaged | 1 caught in a gravity well
(1) Hofund-class Fast Cruiser - Undamaged

Spoiler: FLEET ACTION SUMMARY

Fleet moves into orbit over Brosi and begins to aid ground forces. One Loki class is caught in gravity well.

Squesha Ronhar Tane Elmindra Xitaar
SITH/TIC Fleeters

 

[Ronhar Tane]

[USER ACCESS: TK-3301]
[SUBJECT: ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US]
[OBJECTIVE: I)
[ACCESS CODE: N9TT-9G0A-B7FQ-RANC]
[PROCESSING...]
[PROCESSING...]

[ACCESS GRANTED!]
[BEGIN REPORT...]

"Brace for impact!"

Ronhar's Stork dropship began its final descent to the surface of the planet, a large plume of smoke trailing from the right side of the ship. Something had hit the ship on the way down, though Ronhar couldn't tell exactly what it had been. Regardless, it had been big, and now the Stork was hurtling down to the surface whether or not Ronhar wanted it to.

What a way to start the invasion.

With a massive THUD, the Dropship skidded forward a couple hundred meters as it crashed into ground beneath it, leaving a massive trail of disturbed ground in its wake.

Ronhar and his Storm Commandos lurched forward from the impact, though the droid didn't seem particularly bothered by the crash landing. Still, they were in one piece-Ronhar would have to pesonally thank the pilot himself, assuming he survived what was to come-but were now without aerial transport.

Normally, this wouldn't have been too big a deal, except for one, tiny detail:

Brosi's planetary shield generator had been activated, making it difficult to get any more reinforcements.

That meant proceeding on foot for the time being. Ronhar and his men stepped out of the vehicle. That had made it surprisingly far, all things considered, and by Ronhar's estimation, were probably only about a kilometer away from their main objective: the Brosian Ore Conglomerate Mega-Tower.

Of course, that also meant that their were thousands of mindless, bloodthirsty zombies between them and their objective.

It was time to go to work.

Ronhar removed Burnblade from its sheath and activated the weapon. Within seconds, it began glowing red hot, capable of slicing through most things even on its lowest power setting. His Storm Commandos readied their flamethrowers as hordes of zombies began swarming toward their position.

"Right, here's the plan", Ronhar said as he gave Burnblade a few test swings. “Inferno Squad has been tasked with destroying the shield generators. The fast movers will load up as many droids as they can carry and head toward @Saltare Dothon's last known position. The rest of us will proceed on foot toward the mega tower. Do NOT, under any circumstances, forget to take your anti-virals. Six hours is the maximum wait time between doses. Am I understood?"

"Sir, yes sir!" was the Storm Commandos replies, all said in unison.

"Excellent. Then let's get to it. FOR THE EMPIRE!"

As Ronhar and his men charged toward the tower, the rest of the IFVs loaded the droid support that would be heading to Saltare's position. Overhead, a squadron of Lambda-class YT-1760 Annihilators flew in, escorted by a number of Gnetocarro-class Starfighters.

"Captain Tane, this is Puff the Magic Krayt Dragon. You boys need a little help?", said one of the pilots of the gunship.

"Tempting, Puff, very tempting, but your services are better used support the attacks on the shield generators", Ronhar replied as he beheaded a zombie in front of him. "Concentrate all your fire there, over."

"Acknowledged, Captain. Good luck out there."

The gunships and their fighter escorts headed off, as did the transports, toward the shield generators...

[ACCESS AUTHORIZED TO THE FOLLOWING PERSONS ONLY]
(Tags)

Vakhari Lutris
Saltare Dothon

[END REPORT]
[USER LOG OFF: SUCCESSFUL]​

 

[Narantuyaa Asther]

TAG: Dollshade Darth Prazutis
Allies: Imperials
Enemies: Sith

Intelligence had been good. Narantuyaa had to believe in that at least. Otherwise she knew if the Imperials failed here, there will be consequences to be paid. Even then, who knew what other tricks or plans the Sith had up their sleeves. These were there holy worlds. They weren't going to back down in a fight to defend them. Narantuyaa had boarded a dropship, filled with a combination of stormtroopers and flametroopers and her asset Dollshade . In total there were about twenty two of them. Enough for what Narantuyaa needed to get done on the surface.

Once she ensured everyone had gotten a dose of the specialized medication,the dropship left the Star Destroyer's hangar, proceeding down to the planet's surface. The invasio had just begun but already the battle was fierce. Narantuyaa was monitoring Imperial communications, listening to a storm of voices. Various orders being barked, the frantic blaster fire, the confirmation of zombies on the field of battle. An attritional battle,one the Sith can mitigate with their magics.

That means time and speed was crucial in this mission. Prolonged engagements meant to be kept as a last resort if possible. But Narantuyaa' mission was not the fields of battle, but instead the Mega Tower. The ISS needs all the data it can get about the Sith Order, and luckily, it is all stored in one location. Though it was most likely, the heaviest source of resistance the Imperials needed to deal with.

Her dropship was already taking alot of flak fire from Anti-air defenses, and what fighter escorts there were, moved to engage their Sith counterparts. Narantuyaa turned to Dollshade as she readied her G-12 Imperial Assault Blaster Carbine.

"Once we land, wee move fast and break into that tower. Most likely the Sith's zombies are going to swarm us if we stay too long. Speed is of the essence here, Dollshade" Narantuyaa reminded

Then she turned back, as the dropship landed, the doors opening with Narantuyaa ordering "Flametroopers clear us a path!" A dead sprint ensued, as Narantuyaa's troopers began to clear a path for them get close to Mega Tower. She ignored the trooper's death screams as they gave their lives to further the goal of the Imperial Confederation. 'They did their duty. They know the price.' she mentally told herself.

Upon reaching an entrance point, Narantuyaa pluged in a data stick into the terminal, as it tried to hack into it. Then the door slid open. "Dollshade with me. Troopers you are to hold this exit!"

Thus the two Imperial agents slipped on into the Mega Tower, facing whatever resistance awaits them, alone.

​