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

[The Lord of Hunger]

Objective II - Seize the Means of Production!


LOCATION: BROSI
OBJECTIVE: To cause Chaos, disrupt the TSO
IMPORTANT LINKS: Sword | Armor | Jewel | Ring | Necklace | Gauntlet | DIII Gluttoneria | The guards | The Enforcer
TAG: Gerwald Lechner | Lunaria Talon | Soldane Talon

Brosi was the first step to expanding the Imperial Confederation, the first true step into the territory of the great nations which would firmly dictate the policy of the galaxy. However, to actually make this step, the confederation was positioning itself squarely opposite the Sith order, pitting its resources and its power against one of these aforementioned great nations. Against this empire of brutality and passion, the Imperial Confederation needed to set aside its rather illogical anti-force protocols and convictions.

Through manipulation and corporate meddling, the Lord of Hunger had managed to position himself as possibly the most powerful being within the Confederation bar perhaps the empress herself. While his power was perhaps not as visible and as tangible as for instance the Supreme Commander Marlon Sularen , his influence through the corporate might of the N&Z Umbrella Corporation and the shadow he cast like a veil over the corporation's more... unsavory dealings in the form of the Section C division were an undeniable fact. Almost none among the upper ranks knew about his true reach within the imperial confederation, for them he was an affiliated warlord, a disposable pawn...the sentiment of those who knew nothing was quite amusing.

Still, waiting aboard the massive Gluttoneria, his flagship, the Lord of Hunger looked down at the planet below, as his servants clothed him and attached all the pieces of his armor to his body, meticulously forming it like a coccoon around the weakening body of this decaying monster. As the last piece of the armor was being attached, the mechanical and electrical parts whirred and wheezed, liquids started to run through and feed through tubes laced within the armor. Kronos would for now not be attached to the monstrous man's armor, allowing for the man to experience his pain, his hatred and his unbound curiosity in full. With a deep breath, his presence became toxic, unbearable to the mere mortals still on board of the ship and in his presence, as he molded the very darkness he exuded into a miasma, a vortex which would allow him to connect to the planet's surface.

The senses were an odd thing, the instinct to find the strongest, to find the ones who'd be the greatest adversary, The Lord of Hunger's instincts and his connection through the force guided the miasma in front of him, connecting a pathway through the aether towards the ones who attracted his attention tenfold compared to any other present on this godforsaken battlefield.

They'd be able to feel it, the shift within the very air as his miasma finally connected, the crackling of the dark lightning streaking through the air. As the anti-viral suppressant coursed through his veins, the monstrous man stepped through the portal he had created, the metallic thud of his boots reaching the ground audible, yet controlled. A pair of vibrant crimson and golden irises surrounding a slit pupil staring at what was going on, as a chuckle seemed to escape through the rebreather beneath the mask he wore. "Looks like I have found myself in the presence of some minor inconveniences..."

With his arm snapping to the side, the armored abomination motioned most of the droids that had come with him to take their leave and find some targets for themselves...a task which most likely would not be that hard. If He could find himself before three of the Order's mightiest, his droids should not have too much trouble finding others...as long as it was that damn Shadow himself, they'd stand no chance if they'd manage to find THAT particular monster. Still, with two Sceleratis remaining behind him, the Lord of Hunger gave a calm, somewhat mocking nod towards Srina Talon . "Good to see you, my former empress."

Turning his attention to the King of Korriban Darth Caedes and the Mad wolf, The Lord of hunger's stretched out arm moved forwards, his hand still somewhat limply hanging, with his fingers spread out. " I really do not like this at all..." with those words, black sparks began to emerge around his hand, his fingertips suddenly moving minutely, as streaks of lightning coursed through the air towards all three heavyweights of the order... the game had now begun.​

 

[Her]

---

---

Brosi, Corporate Sector, Outer Rim Territories;
Thandon Star Cluster;
THE NASCENT IMPERIAL CONFEDERATION!
Tag: Allyson Locke

---

"What celestial body is more luminous than a singularity? Hiding in plain sight but more powerful than all."
-- Darth Guile.

---

​

OBJECTIVE I.

Equipment:

• PhantomSkin Nullsuit.​
• Sithspawn Revitalization Projector [SRP-7].​
• Ufo.​
• Portable Dampening Field [PDF].​
• The Cone of Silence.​
• DSDT Program.​
• ABC - Aerosolized Bacta Cannister.​
• NZ All-Purpose Viral Suppressant Type II.​
• HERA- DSOM/RQ [Direct Central Operating System] A.K.A The Red Queen.​
• BN-IV Nerve Agent.​
• Lightsaber (curved hilt).​

​

Only through destruction may I breed creation.

It began at the turn-of-the-ninth century during the coup d'état on Lianna. From that betrayal they had paved the way towards the ascension, albeit disastrous, two year reign of the Kilran Dynasty over the lands and territories of the Empire of the Lost.

Felucia had been the beginning of what was to be a campaign right into the heart of the Esstran Sector where the Sith Holy Worlds hid behind the veil of the Stygian Caldera. The cataclysmic Siege of Tion had brought them to the fine line between ruin and catastrophe thereby disrupting, if not outright ruining, the machinations of the two Sith Lords who began influencing, politicking and manipulating the Imperial remnants since the early ninth-century. However, adaptation, cunning, and manipulation had brought the work back from the brink of destruction to lay the roads that would take them and their associates into the realms of Sith occupied space.

Look upon their designs today and despair.

Everyone has their time.

Following the engineered, economic collapse of the Empire of the Lost (whose failure at Tion and the subsequent loss of The Eggman at Lothal required a new paradigm to come forth) had seen to the formation and rise of The Imperial Confederation-- a stronger, more powerful, unified government unhindered by the mad ravings of Velran Kilran and his unworthy heir who went onto occupy the same lands that he had once ruled to usher in the "Second Imperial Occupation of the Outer Rim systems".

Their ideas, of which they believed were there own, had been planted in order to supplant even the most ambitious and cunning among the Imperial remnants gathered under the reign of Liraeth Deschart for the Confederation was meant to serve one purpose and it had finally arrived on Brosi.

At last, finally, they had accomplished the dream.

The fate of all that the Sith held dear in this quadrant of space was on the precipice of loss and ruin underneath the banners of an Iron Sky.

Yes... Now we are all here to eliminate their adversaries.

All according to her machinations...

---

THE OREDUKE TOWER.
LEVEL 43, ADMINISTRATION OFFICE.

RED QUEEN: Initiating analysis of the tower. Discovering security protocols, data packets and lingering traps.

Blue luminescent lights bounced off the walls of the office Her was standing in from the subtle moves and shadows of a hologram which intermixed with the eerie white lights of the Cone of Silence from above and the crimson red beams of the artificial intelligence colloquially known by those in N&Z's Section C branch as: "THE RED QUEEN".

Concealed by the works of the N&Z Umbrella Corporation and her quiet, off-the-books partner in VesperWorks, the undercover Dark Lord of the Sith- devout follower of the Rule of Two- has just assaulted one of the OreDukes towers in order to steal data, information and secrets stored on their servers regarding the operations and other acts taken on the Sith occupied lands of Shoegen. Many have already perished as they tried to stop her as she made her way to this administration office found on the forty-third level in the tower.

As the Red Queen went about her work, the undercover Dark Lord turned their gaze to look through the canopy of a window sill out onto the ruined landscape of the city and the invading Imperial forces looking to take it in the name of the Confederation. Certain acts of subterfuge, politicking and manoeuvring had been done in order to push the Imperial remnants into this invasion. But now it was all out of her hands. All that was left to do was to continue to capitalize on the opportunities afforded by her work such as uncovering what she could find in these archives and data storage of the OreDukes while her associates, partners and their forces either crushed the Sith Order today or perished in the attempt.

The PDF beside Her hummed quietly beneath the veneer of the static barrier created by the Cone (which was shining from above). Combined together they ought to make her neigh undetectable but every girl has their way. Their deployment was all in the act of keeping the undercover Dark Lord concealed through the mixture of technological marvels and their abilities in the dark side of the force while her adversaries in the form of the Sith were drawn into war with the Imperial remnants.

There was no doubt in her mind that their enemies, and her associates, would call the woman that they may know as Her, or as the Warden Primus, as a "coward" for trying to hide in these circumstances. A parasite, a leech, a festering wound that needed to be expunged by the Tsis'Kaar or Inqusitorious.

But they would be wrong for the force does work in mysterious ways. Indeed, the Dark Lord would be attacked today by someone she knows and although she watches the battlefield below with a mixture of contempt and satisfaction- unknowingly- someone would come for her after all.

The Dark Lord is forever cunning, and was well trained by the Ghost of Kalist. A powerful Force Shield surrounds the enigma known as Her as she watches the battlefield below- a precaution taught to her in the early days of training underneath the bane of THE NOMAD for a true master is prepared for everything. She possesses every intentions of letting her associates and partners in the Imperial forces do the dirty work while she absconds with the OreDukes secrets; and when it was done she would evaluate the fallout from afar in the safety of Lianna City where she had been hiding for most of their days since Her had begun bending them all to her machinations.

Under the disguise of the Nullsuit, and the other mechanical contraptions that she had brought to bear for this mission, Her truly believes herself to be almost immune to any fallout or danger for she felt safe and protected by her powers in the dark side. But nothing ever goes according to plan. Somehow, inexplicably, an old comrade from the past has found their way into the opposition and they were here unknowingly to the undercover Dark Lord who, in their estimation, was largely responsible for this conflict on Brosi.

A duel was about to begin. One that would test both of them and their loyalties. As a fractured past is brought back to the surface...

---

 

[Garza]

OBJECTIVE II: Seize the Means of Production
EQUIPMENT: | Drop Pod | Siege Cannon |
FORCES: | Terentatek | Leviathan | Chrysalide | Wyrm | War Worm | Dreambeast | Devourer | Silooth | Tuk'ata | Veergundark | Stormbeast | Xorvyrnog |
TAGS: | Srina Talon | Selrik Lorcas | Darth Morta | Saltare Dothon | Varin Mortifer | The Lord of Hunger | @Open

The formation of the Clergy as they surrounded the pod. Gathering last bit supplies and weapons. The Inari Faith was strong with them. I could feel it. Their energy, their love for me was strong. Even more so, when knowing that I was fighting for my mother. My patron of the Sith. The Empress herself. The Sith knew that the Imperial Confederation was coming. It was not a surprise attack. More over, the application of a strain of biological warfare that had afflicted the planet had been doing so for so long. This set of attacks was now not just to take the planet from the Order, but to end the plight upon the world. The Sith on the other hand, were not afraid of these undead. Using them to their advantage and to coerce them into fighting for their forces. Aimed to bring them down upon the Imperial remains that has become uppity.

As such, I had been requested. An all out assault against the planet that held no serious importance. Sure it had some old cashes and old tech, but nothing that would matter in the grand scheme of the Sith Order. I was given full rein to do what I deemed necessary to hold back the attacking efforts of the Confederation. Surely the years since the last attacks against the Sith had grown to no longer have fear of Sith Spawn and their ilk. Now, I would show them why the Sith were feared and their creations.

My army, my command of these creatures was supreme. A host of vessels, carriers that were filled to the brim with Sithspawn. Dropped down in pods and even just dropped straight down upon the planet. Already their advances were being sent forward. Their power and strength being sent out with reckless charging and abandon. The purpose of the Sithspawn, was cannon fodder. Creatures and beasts to charge into lines of the enemy and dwindle their numbers before any form of Sith Troopers and forces ever touched them. Now, it was time to bring down the full wrath of the order. The very Father of all these such beasts.

"Operation Titanfall is a go!"
"All scanners are in the green."

The drop pod was released. Falling through the sky. One massive pod that would be sending me down to the very planet itself. Crashing down as if it were a Ship itself. Directed to be landing between all of the fighting. All of the creations of the Sith order since it had been found under their control with the Plainshift. Now, I would lay waste to those who tried to take it. Above me in the drop pod, a singular clergy stood speaking of my name.

"Blessed are the Children of Inari. Blessed be those who fall under his might. For they are to receive his benevolence in its purist form. We pray that this imperial heathenry be squashed by our lord Inari, named of Garza by his earthly mother, and the very wrath of the Darkness itself. Return them to their hell, so that your reign may forever be. Amen."

A large break of my mouth. Teeth as large as speeders showed themselves to those within the pod. No growl, no roar. Just a smile for their patronage. My hand lowered to the slaves within the pod. Grabbing them and bringing them to my maw. Dropping them upon my tongue and closing my mouth. Their screams filled the air as I consumed their essence. Force Users who had been deemed unfit for the Sith Order and their forces. As such, they were now my feed. My source of power.

KA-BOOOOM!​

The ground had been hit beneath us. The pod landing hard and shaking the very foundations of buildings. A tremor in the earth. All before the plates of the Drop pod were blown off. Water rushing out into the ground and sweeping away anything not bolted down. A flash flood of billions of kiloliters of water rushed through the ground. Swiping away any would be "Zombies" or enemies beneath me. The massive form of Garza, Inari, my true life was exposed to the air of Brosi. And now, so would the Imperial Confederation learn of Warfare against Sith Spawn and their ilk.

Stepping out, the ground shook with each step. Rumbling with my footfalls. And with it, I leaned back, breathing in deeply. The sound of storm force winds as I drew in my air. My breath of life, destruction and absolute power. Before releasing it into the air.

SKRRRRREEEEEOOOOONNNNNKKKKKK

Lord of Dragons, Father of Titans, Progenitor of Sith Spawn, Inari the Stormbringer, Garza Child of Talon.

Has landed.

 

[Lirka Ka]

OBJECTIVE I
TAG: OPEN

Lirka was compelled to answer the clarion call of war. War was the crucible upon which the Primordial Dark tested the worthiness of a great many things, today would be no different. The Caldera was alight with conflict, Lirka could only muse that millions could die in this merciless assault - the notion brought a smile to the Once-Sephi’s wretched face. The Sith had grown comfortable, in their own evil way, let this newest onslaught of combat test if they were truly worthy of holding onto these supposedly-Holy Worlds.

Just as much, it would make for another chance to test herself. If this great Ore-Tower was to be broken, it would be broken. Lirka Ka possessed many skills, and few of them remained as paramount as her ability to break things. While the forces she was able to draw from her Legion brawled elsewhere in the Caldera, the metal-missile that was Lirka Ka had been sent down to match this metal monolith and see just how skilled these “Ore-Dukes” truly were at defending their holdings.

In the shadow of a blighted world, with the rising pandemonium of the living dead. Lirka went to work, skulking and stalking her way through the shadows till she finally reached the mega tower.

Then, it was simple. blade crackling with Electro-Plasma Filament and servos whirring, she hacked and slashed her way through the nearest door she could find till she could merely wrenched the thing open with metal claws. And descend into the belly of the beast to find Darkness only knew what. Really, all she could hope for was some poor Imperial sod that she could bludgeon into a fine red mush and be pleasantly content with her service today.

 

[Darth Nefaron]

BROSI || RUINED OBSERVATION POST
TAGS || Eurydice , OPEN

War was a simple thing.

The clash of blades, the hum of blasters.

But what came with war?

Fear. Terror. Suffering.

It was in this, Darth Nefaron reveled.

​

The Corpse Lord took little interest in the defense of the Holy Worlds. Korriban, Dromund Kaas, Brosi, all were but worlds that had been fought over and drowned in blood for countless millennia. The history that had been made was that of long-dead Dark Lords who had, in the end, failed to hold the galaxy in their grip. But Nefaron had come nonetheless, though his nascent armada and Corpse Legion were safe and secure on Anoat, for the Dark Lord had come with but one servant, one being who would gain much from witnessing the great power of the Sith brought to bear on their foes.

Eurydice did not know war, true war.

She would understand what it meant to unleash the Dark Side. ​

That did not mean Nefaron would refrain from fighting the Imperial intruders, though, of course, he did not desire to take the field and face them outright. In fact, he was rather comfortable in the former residential block turned makeshift outpost, one that oversaw the great struggle between tyrants. Unfortunately for a group of Imperial Stormtroopers, they also believed the building to be an excellent position and had come to take it for their own. One by one, Nefaron stalked them throughout the building and picked them off, his joy evident even from the shadows. He was careful, though, to allow only one trooper to make it to the observation post, where he stumbled upon the girl from Ukatis whom Nefaron had bid wait for his return. His triumph was short-lived, however, as he was lifted like a rag doll and thrown against one of the walls. Not hard enough to kill, but certainly hard enough to render him unconscious. For his part, Nefaron appeared spotless for the trail of blood corpses he had made throughout the building.

"It is so unfortunate that they don't put up more of a fight."

The remark was to no one, a simple sign of disappointment from the Corpse Lord in regard to the quality of his prey.

"We are going to have a chat with this one when he wakes. Fetch that chair, my dear Eurydice, we must ensure our guest is comfortable."

The old apartment the pair had found themselves in had suffered damage from the first minutes of the Imperial's invasion. A stray laser cannon blast had blown a hole into the wall facing outward toward the rest of the city, allowing the sound of war to fill the air. It was quite the sight to watch a world die, one Nefaron always enjoyed.

Once the girl had done as her master commanded, Nefaron used his power for the mundane task of lifting the trooper into place. Carefully, he restrained the trooper and removed his helmet, revealing a young man with a freshly shaven head and a rather large bruise that had begun to form on the back of his skull.

"Let him rest awhile longer. To me, Apprentice, I want to show you something."

Nefaron stood, looking out from the blast hole and watching on as burning wreckage fell from orbit, vast machines of war marched through destroyed city blocks, and the few remaining civilians made desperate attempts to flee.

"You get to witness real war. What you saw on Ukatis was but a minor skirmish compared to what we see today."

The Dark Lord fell silent for a time, allowing a rather large explosion to play out uninterrupted.

"Thirty men just died. Countless more lay wounded, bleeding, and crying out for an end to the pain."

Nefaron spoke as if he were present to watch the event take place, and yet they were miles away from the blast site.

"Reach out, Apprentice. What fills your senses? What sight does the Dark Side grant you?"​

 

[Velcarin]

---

---

Brosi, Corporate Sector, Outer Rim Territories;
Thandon Star Cluster;
THE NASCENT IMPERIAL CONFEDERATION!
Tag: Varin Mortifer

---

"The Inquisitorius is a necessary evil; their warriors serve as instruments of the Confederation, called upon when their unique abilities are required to carry out covert operations, suppress rebellious factions, or eliminate Force-sensitive threats..."
-- Excerpts describing The Inquisitorius and their members.

---

​

OBJECTIVE II.

Equipment:

• Inquistorious MK1 'Menasor' Armor.​
• ABC - Aerosolized Bacta Cannister.​
• NZ All-Purpose Viral Suppressant Type II.​
• Lightsaber.​

​

I was once a Jedi. But that time has passed. Now there is only the Confederation. I live only to serve.

The mask of the Menasor was designed to intimidate and inspire fear in it's opposition. Ironic, then, that it was doing well to conceal Velcarin's as she marched through the ruined Candorian Blighted hellscape that was Brosi. There was an element of horror that went beyond the articles and theatre of war at work here. As her cape bellowed in the wind, as she marched forth into battle, it was as if something was abjectly wrong in the air itself gnawing at her emotions and the anxiety that came with a life or death situation such as this one.

Perhaps there had been a reason then for why she and the others deployed on this ruined world had been given the suppressant supplied by one of the invitees to PROJECT TION-- a man who had introduced himself to the Inquisitor (and other hand-picked officers, soldiers or warriors from the four Imperial remnants banded together by the Confederation) as The Dealmaker.

Back then, in that secret meeting on Minntooine, it had seemed straight forward and simple in principle but what Velcarin could see was anything but.

They were set to invade the Thandon Star Cluster and eliminate the Sith presence which was right under the purview of the likes found in the Inquisitorius. It was set to be an all-out attack upon the star systems located in the region while a smaller albeit just as deadly force would land on Brosi. Distracted and overwhelmed by Confederation forces in a surprise attack the likes of Velcarin and the other members of Project Tion would see to the fall of this world that had once been a hub of tourism some decades ago.

This was not straightforward. It was, in fact, something out of eldritch horror.

They were moving. Hundreds-- no, thousands-- of people. At least they look like people... charging, gnashing, roaring...

The crimson Lightsaber blade hummed under the racket of war as Velcarin found herself thick in the melee. She found herself deflecting blasters, avoiding shelling, and finding herself fighting an opponent here or there only to see them cut down in the throng of the melee. This was no-mans land, and among the Sith and Imperial forces there was something else. Weapons, creatures... They were hoards of the undead attacking everything that they could find. They were drawing no quarter, and with every turn, Velcarin saw something that would scar the mind for a lifetime.

With the Force as her aide and only real companion, Velcarin did well not to join the dead that were set to litter this battlefield. As she danced and sliced every enemy she saw- whether they be Sith, mercs owned by the OreDukes, or a dreadful zombie- a ship caught her sight in the horizon: enemy reinforcements headed by Varin Mortifer .

Yelling, screaming and roaring back at the foes around her as she gained momentum in her charge, Velcarin went at Varin's ship and as it landed to expose it's landing ramp her weapon flew forward from her palm in a lightsaber throw aiming to take out any and all that were set to disembark to join their foes and allies on the ground as the mouth of the ship opened to deploy all those within...

---

 

[Lunaria Talon]

Location: Shoengen, Brosi [Nearby Drop Ship]
Objective: Objective II - Seize the Means of Production!
Goals: Subterranean Ore Mines Beneath Processing Plant Delta-2
Tags: Soldane Talon | Matteo Guo-Yian | The Lord of Hunger

_________________________​

Echani were supposed to be…Perfect. Graceful, with a touch of serenity, and always composed.​

​

At this particular moment, however, she felt more like a crushed beetle stuck to the underside of a wineglass. The jump (if it could be called that) from the Vigfjall to the waiting Drop Ship on Brosi should have been as easy as walking forward. Just one step. Through the entryway of the hypergate that was on the Star Destroyer, only to exit on the Drop Ship that waited on the surface. It should have been so simple, so swift, that they barely noticed the change in air pressure.​

​

Instead…It was about as elegant as slamming face-first into an invisible wall at terminal velocity. Artemis breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth while she bent at the waist, trying in vain to keep the watery mouth feeling from overwhelming her. Her rebreather was pushed to the side while they were within the safety of the Karve, and her one hand rest on her lightly armored thigh while her vision swam. She hadn't vomited yet, thank the stars, but only through sheer vindictive willpower and a pedantic sense of pride. She could not THROW UP on her first real battlefield.​

​

She exhaled slowly, cool fingers pressed beneath her jaw, trying to pretend that it didn't feel like her organs had briefly reversed direction. "Tell me again…", she wheezed out, both angry and annoyed, "Why we couldn't take a normal ship like civilized people?" ​

​

The small youth would have rather dodged turbolaser fire. At least then, she could have fought back and had a chance. This was miserable.​

​

The complaints she made weren't toward anyone specific, though Soldane Talon and Matteo Guo-Yian weren't more than a few paces away. The Karve-class drop ship held up against the onslaught of Sith troops that poured through the doorway, clearly, without concern for the constitution of a student to Jutrand Academy. They were supposed to be prepared for anything. How did one prepare for this?​

​

Dance through hypergates that were so rare, Artemis was shocked they existed at all?​

​

The air was sterile.​

​

Tense. ​

​

Outside…Brosi waited. Scarred and blighted, whispering rot through the Force, like a song with no melody. A signal had risen from beneath the mines beneath Delta-2 and Darth Carnifex had taken particular interest in it. As he was both Haru and mentor… He could only be obeyed. This was her first war. First…Real, large-scale, battlefield.​

​

No pressure. ​

​

Slowly, she straightened, adjusting her gear despite the low gravity tug. "We're following a buried signal on a blight-ridden death world.", she murmured, deadpan. "What could possibly go wrong?" ​

​

She swallowed hard. A few more times…Just trying to stop her stomach from churning. They had to get moving before the Imperials figured out there was something there too. She nodded to herself and replaced her rebreather, raising her chin like the lady she was. She couldn't be put down by a little hypergate sickness… "Just…Promise me we won't die over something stupid." ​

​

Anything else was negotiable.​

 

[Amalia Visconti | Mira Rhory]

Location: Brosi
Tag: Eira Dyn
Objective I: Storm the tower

Spoiler: Equipment

Personal Suit | Nullsuit | NZ HG-Vibrodagger type I x2 | G-2 Imperial Standard Blaster x2

It wasn't easy trying to hitch a ride with one of the Imperial Confederation's landing ships, but utilizing both her nullsuit and her standard suit, she managed to adjust the appearance of both herself and her outfit just enough to make sure that she'd be able to blend in with the hundreds and thousands of officers and NCO's following in the wake of the armies led by Grand Moff Selrik Lorcas , but she had another job, a more important job for both the security of the Imperial Confederation, but also the progress of her master, who wished to know everything, denoting intelligence as the key for any success.

As soon as Amalia managed to break away from the troops she had come to the surface with, she allowed her outfit to be more suitable to her own tastes, pressing the side of her nullsuit to mold into an effective second skin over her face and hair, mimicking her appearance in full detail, but retaining the visual aspects and acquity it granted through its HUD.

The Section C operative had to make sure she could avoid the prying eyes of any defending soldiers, making a wide walkaround just to avoid the heaviest fighting and allow herself to securely slip past the defensive lines pr actically unseen. As she stopped for a moment, checking her datapad and connecting to KRONOS aboard her master's ship, the woman let out a soft sigh. This seemed to have startled a soldier nearby, who started to look around, an annoying occurance when she had hoped to practically have an easy peasy job after passing the frontlines.

Without a word being uttered, Amalia rushed towards the soldier, not allowing him any time to even shoulder his blaster rifle properly, dipping down and swinging her right leg upwards to kick the rifle out of the soldier's hands, she instantly changed the direction of her leg, hooking around the man's neck and instantly slamming him upon the ground, after which her right hand reached for one of the vibrodaggers attached to the back of her vast, slamming the thin blade right in between the fourth and fifth vertebrea of the man's neck in order to silence him instantly.

Exhaling with a scowl on her face, the woman started scanning the soldier's outfit, allowing her nullsuit and her standard suit to take on the likeness of the soldier's outfit and attire as best as she could before she dragged him into the shadows and begun to move towards her goal: The inner sanctum of the Tower, there had to be some good intel for her there after all...

 

[Darth Carnifex]

He wanted to scream, He wanted to cry out, but He held His voice. The pain which surged through Him now was nothing compared to the agony of total oblivion, that which He knew awaited Him beyond the veil of death. This pain, this racking agony, grounded Him, reminded Him that He was real. This was the world of flesh and bone, not the world of spirit and consciousness. He swallowed whole this terrible suffering, greedily devouring every sensation in it's excess.

Eyes snapped open, molten pupils dilated with a sight beyond that of mortal men. The Embrace relented, tendrils unraveling as the bonds which held Him fast grew slack and disappeared altogether. He sunk to the floor, coming to rest on His knees upon a circular metal dais. He'd been shorn of modesty, His olive skin kissed with dewdrops of sweat at every conceivable angle. He rightfully smelled, stinking of exertion and pain, but never of fear.

Dripping from the shadows came the spindly forms of five priestesses, their emaciated bodies clad in shimmering samite, eyes and mouths sown shut with golden thread. Their long, wiry fingers they submerged in clay pots of threnic unction, proceeding to then meticulously smear it across His bare skin. The oil was viscous, partially opaque, and the color of mourning dusk; neither black nor gray, but something in-between. Flecks of silver and gold, swirling whispers of alchemical memory, caught the sterile light from the recessed luminpanels in the vaulted ceiling above.

They began all at once, pressing their long fingers into the contours of His physical form. Though they could not see, though they could not speak, they moved with calculated precision. The oil clung to His skin like a shadow, sanctifying Him with the power of sacred ritual. One of the priestesses anointed His chest, each pectoral like a slab of sculpted dusk. Her hands followed the contours of the engraved Sith runes that crossed His sternum, feeling the power humming just beneath the skin like an active reactor.

It was the most devoted of them all that was granted the privilege of anointing His head, her fingers working slowly to apply the unction to His brow; bright red Sith seal like a crowning jewel set squarely in His forehead. From her bowl, she poured the remaining unction down upon His scalp, letting it sluice through His long dark hair in thick rivulets. The oil coated His head, dripped along the sides of His face, trailed down His throat, and vanished between the valleys of His scarred and tattooed chest.

They circled Him, hands pressed to His body as the final rites were prepared. The oil was no longer just coating Him, it was sinking into Him; quickening like a second skin. It clung to His musculature like a lover's embrace, outlining every ridge, every scar, every brand. The scent of the unction thickened now, ripened by warmth and time, hanging in the chamber like a fugue. The priestesses bowed their heads and slipped back into the shadows, their task complete.

It did not take long for them to be replaced, as new figures slid out from the darkness. Faded ash-gray robes cloaked their bodies, their faces obscured by masks of bone and ivory. In their near-skeletal hands they held new censure basins, filled with flecks of crushed bone and powdered ash. As one they surrounded Him, and gingerly lifted and then tipped the contents of their basins over His head. The powdered mixture fell like atomic snow, drifting through the warm incense haze to kiss His oiled skin with a dry whisper, clinging to the unction, forming an uneven crust.

Where the oil was thickest, the dust stuck in broad strokes. Where thinner, it painted Him in streaks of mottled death. Where bone met rune, it sank into the engraved flesh, filling the grooves like mortar in a tombstone's etchings. They set aside their basins and began to dust away the excess with careful gestures, starting at His chest and then moving to the extremities. No word was said, nothing needed to be. All was achieved in reverent silence, the only sound made was the rustling of fabric and the soft step of those who acted in worship.

Then they too departed, and then the final stage began.

With a tremor like the slow grind of a tectonic plate, the circular platform He stood upon sank a meter into the floor, locking into place with a resonant clang of magnetic anchors. From the circumference, apertures in the walls, floor, and ceiling slid open, revealing nested claws, braces, and armatures of alchemized machinery. Glowing red conduits pulsed like veins, illuminating the girding mechanism with sacrificial light.

Black spider-like constructs woven with alchemical threads and ceremonial programming reached out for His flesh, each limb bore carefully folded textiles. Not of silk, nor mere synthweave, but of death-spun cloth. The inner cassock came first, hemmed in blood-glyphs and lined with fine threads of Shikkari death-weave. It tightly clung to His body, slicking over the still-glimmering unction and sealing the oil and bone dust beneath it's embrace.

Next came the crimson inner drape, torn at the hem by design, it's fabric threaded with ritual ash and fragments of battlefield banners. This cloth bore no symbols, for it was a symbol in of itself. It wrapped around His waist and chest, then across one shoulder in the style of a funerary shroud. Final was the girding cincture, a thick belt of terentatek leather and dark metallic buckles. Each metal piece was etched in the sharp, angular language of the ancient Sith. The cincture locked the vestments in place, each rune hissing as it aligned, reacting with His natural heat and the unction sealed beneath the cassock.

Now came the true armor.

With a hiss of steam and a sibilant chant of servo-runes, the first component descended from above, a massive backplate, shaped like a flayed spinal column forged from Zîrkaris and blood-forged aurodium. It hovered for a heartbeat, suspended by magnetic manipulation, then slammed onto His back, each vertebral ridge aligning perfectly with His own. Runic anchors bit into the skin, merging not merely to bone, but soul.

From the walls, gauntlet-bearing limbs extended, each joint inscribed with Sith incantations and powered by archaic Rakatan gravity cores. They moved with ritualistic slowness, offering up the next pieces in deliberate order. Sabatons clamped around His feet, sealing with a pulse of red light; greaves, reinforced with Terentatek hide and Shikkari death-weave, curled around His legs, binding tightly with alchemical sinew; gauntlets and vambraces surged over His hands and forearms, fusing with wrist and tendon; and finally, twin pauldrons locked onto His shoulders with immense concussive force.

From beneath, articulated arms rose bearing the cuirass, wrought from blackened Zîrkaris and veined with silver script. The moment it approached, the threnic unction still coating His flesh boiled, reacting to the armor's proximity. It latched with a shudder, expelling a wave of compressed Force pressure through the chamber. Runes along the seams ignited, sealed the armor tightly to His flesh. Only ritual could remove it now, nothing else would suffice.

From above came His cloak, a long, heavy mantle of black sable spooled from darkness itself. Interlocking along every square inch of it's exterior surface were diamond-shaped scales of Mandalorian Beskar, each one a trophy wrought from a clan or family He'd murdered. There were thousands of them, each stamped with the symbol of their clan. No two were exactly like. They shimmered like dragon scales as the cloak descended from the ceiling, carried on twin claws like those of a carrion bird. It draped over His back, clasping at the pauldrons with magnetic certainty, it's serrated edge just barely brushing the floor.

The sunken dais now rose again, returning Him to where He'd started. With one deliberate step He descended the dais, now fully clad in the regalia of war. Awaiting Him beyond was a smaller chamber, His lightsaber seated upon a silken pillow. He called it to His hand with a faint gesture, the weapon flying forward and slipping into His palm. Fingers coiled around the leather-bound hilt, snapping the weapon to His waist with a magnetic thunk. He then swiftly departed His private quarters, rising up through many levels before He finally reached His destination.

The bridge of the Oblation, an Eschaton-class Star Destroyer that He'd personally commandeered. Beyond the reinforced viewport was a meandering screen of asteroids, obscuring the ship's field of vision as well as any who happen to be looking upon it. No fighters had been launched as of yet, a whole contingent of one-hundred-and-eight Xarûl starfighters still resting in the Oblation's launch bays. They'll get their moment for glory though, when the time came to unleash them.

At His approach, all those upon the bridge fell to their knees in obeisance. Those who could not, those cybernetically fused to their stations, could only warble praise and worship in a binary deluge. They would only arise when bidden, and then quickly go back to their assigned tasks. The captain of the Oblation, a young officer whose family had long served the Dark Lord, stood rigid and attentive as her Lord and Master approached the viewport, peering out ponderously at the asteroids and empty void beyond.

He said nothing.

Nor would He.

They all knew their role.

They all knew their sacrifice.

Calin Rakel | Squesha | Ronhar Tane
Elmindra Xitaar | Rowyna Galeway | Darth Malum of House Marr ​

 

[The Lord of Hunger]

Objective II - Seize the Means of Production!

LOCATION: BROSI
OBJECTIVE: To cause Chaos, disrupt the TSO
IMPORTANT LINKS: The guards
TAG: Lunaria Talon | Soldane Talon​

Like silent stalkers, cloaked and predatory, the Sceleratii moved through the battlefield, practically unnoticed by zombies and soldiers alike, the benefit of having been programmed to hunt and avoid becoming hunted oneself. From their vantage points, slipping through the worst fighting without much effort, the droids had the chance to survey the surrounding areas, mark down any potential points of interest and sending those through to KRONOS, the AI which was responsible for coordinating almost all of the Lord of Hunger's assets in absence of the master himself. With all the information being processed, the AI's orders were quite clear...

//: PROCESSING INTEL...
//: OVERVIEW CALCULATION
//: PRIMARY POSITION
//: UPDATING COMMANDS
//: ORDERS SENT
//: PRIMARY POINT OF INTEREST... PROCESSING PLANT DELTA-2
//: PEROGATIVE...
//: INVESTIGATE-ANALYZE-ANIHILATE

"Orders received," The Sceleratii muttered in metallic unison, allowing their built-in navigational systems to calculate a path to the location which had been deemed important enough to check out. Following the orders of both Credius and KRONOS was quite easy when they didn't contradict one another after all. An area of importance would no doubt also yield a target for further competence testing for the Sceleratii. "Taking quickest route to Delta-2 processing plant, awaiting further instructions upon arrival."

Like a pack of wolves, cloaked in darkness, the Sceleratii moved like silent assassins through the battlefields, weaving themselves through hordes of zombies, soldiers of both sides, until they had to keep in their pace, taking a more methodical approach when it looked like they were nearing a large concentration of men and ships, indicating the importance of the location, at least in the eyes of the Sith Order, whose sigils and emblems were rather easily identified by the database at the disposal of the Sceleratii.

//:ANALYZING INTEL
//: PROCESSING
//: LOCATION INTEREST RAISED
//: SIGNALS INTERCEPTED
//: PRIORITY CLASS B

Class B priority, that meant that for now, the plant was of great interest but would not yet be a deciding factor. Still, with a whole lot of signals being intercepted, translated and transcribed, clearly there was a sort of hub located at the processing plant, and clearly the place was of enough importance to be targeted by KRONOS and thus the Sceleratii.

"Begin headcount," The droids covered themselves with their cloaks, allowing themselves to remain unseen as they closed in on the plant and the obvious presence of Sith Troopers. However, the blades they carried though...were perhaps a problem if there were any truly sensitive people around...

 

[Sieliel Dimegor]

---

---

Brosi, Corporate Sector, Outer Rim Territories;
Thandon Star Cluster;
THE NASCENT IMPERIAL CONFEDERATION!
Tag: Koda Fett

Sieliel Dimegor Bounty.

---

​

OBJECTIVE III.

Equipment:

• TIE/ss Supremacy.​

​

The hum of ion engines filled the canopy of the Supremacy as Sieliel Dimegor- a disgraced Sergeant and former Major of the N.I.S.B special-taskforce, "The Imperial Immortals"- flew in formation with other TIE/ss jets as the Battle of Brosi begun.

Streaks of green laser struck enemy starfighters deployed in space as Sieliel flew using maneuverers to fly around one of the larger Imperial capital grade ships to protect it from their adversaries in the Dostra system.

"This is Black Lead to all wings. Sith boogies ahead. Stay in formation."​

"They are converging on our six!"

"Red Squadron, vector 0.8.2 by 1.6. Cut through their flank before they regroup. Black Wing, we're the anvil."

"Copy that. Targeting lead Interceptor. Weapons hot!"

"Blasted Sith. It feels like they were ready..."

A symphony of voices filled Sieliel's helmet via the radio system embedded within as those in her squadron (and other nearby friendlies) communicated with one another. With the latest transmission she quietly agreed with her comrade: it, indeed, feel like their enemies knew that they had been coming.

But they should not have known.

The call for deployment and subsequent beginning of the attack had been swift. It had come with no fanfare, warning or the slightest hint that the Confederation were moving towards war with the Sith Empire. From Minntooine to Brosi it had only been a standard ten hours ago that the likes of Dimegor (and others in the naval units assigned to this mission) were alerted of the impending attack on the Corporate Sector and other star systems.

Not that the Imperial-Confederation forces had been unprepared for such an endeavour. Since Minntooine had been liberated from the traitorous hands of Kael Thrennis they had been involved in a series of drills and war games in anticipation of an attack. Sieliel had some suspicion as to why. Those who had survived the fall of the Empire of the Lost could still remember what had happened on Tion and so while the nascent Imperial Confederation was not an enemy (at least at the time) of the Sith Order there was still room for concern.

If anything like the Siege of Tion were to happen again then they were to be prepared.

But in spite of the fact that Imperial forces- while undoubtedly prepared for such an incursion- were only debriefed and alerted to the attack mere hours before it begun in earnest made the hairs on the back of Sieliel's neck stand up at what she was seeing through her visor. This was supposed to be a surprise attack and yet the Sith forces were mounting an incredible defence that even to a laymen such as her revealed anticipation, preparation and a resolve to keep what was theirs.

"They just cloaked. Some kind of adaptive steal field. I've lost visual!"​

"Maintain vector and fire by telemetry. Trust your instruments."​

"This wasn't a random ambush. They knew we would be here..."​

"Then let's make sure they regret it."​

As the radio continued to blare the transmissions bouncing around her helmet, Sieliel kept in formation. Target sensors locked onto an enemy starfighter looking to flank a nearby friendly and was downed with a pull of her trigger. The "Black Wing" squadron continued their manoeuvres around the capital ship they had been deployed to defend-- never to leave the vicinity and subsequent protection of it's anti-starfighter guns or shields but enough space to engage enemy bombers, starfighters or transports attempting to breach the Imperial defences with boarding parties.

But as Sieliel kept her focus on the mission- staying in formation, covering her comrades, and watching her instruments- a lingering doubt festered at the back of her mind. This was not just any adversary that they were facing-- these were the Sith. They were the same enemy that Sieliel understood to be the real players behind the seditious conspiracy that had called itself the Fifth Wing. Deceived by their powers of the dark side, during the two year reign of the Empire of the Lost, Sieliel thought her participation in the organisation had been in service to HIS MAJESTY OF ALL IMPERIAL KIND: Velran Kilran.

But it hadn't been the late "lost" Emperor. No... It had been the Sith Lord now known to her as LAETOR and the Sith had known that they were coming. Connections, possibilities and doubt itched at the back of her mind which Sieliel was only distracted from by the heat of battle.

Little did she knew that the very same Sith Lord deemed responsible for the economic collapse of the former Empire had set a bounty on her in the weeks leading up to the attack on Brosi.

Koda Fett would deliver.

---

 

[Matteo Guo-Yian]

Location: Shoengen, Brosi [Nearby Drop Ship]
Objective: Objective II - Seize the Means of Production!
Goals: Subterranean Ore Mines Beneath Processing Plant Delta-2
Tags: Soldane Talon | Lunaria Talon | The Lord of Hunger

Matteo was fairing a little bit better than Luna in this regard, but only by a touch and a sliver.

The strange effects of moving from one point in space to the other was screwing with him. It was the first time Matteo had used a Hypergate and he hoped it would be the last.

"You will get used to it, I promise." Matteo said while trying to pretend he wasn't green around his eyes himself. His stomach was making somersaults, violently, he wanted to throw up. Fingers curled hard into the fabric of the fasteners. Eventually though his stomach managed to settle, it took too long, it was frankly embarrassing, but it managed.

"This wasn't my first assignment pick either."

Matteo wasn't really sure why he was here. Lunaria, he understood, she had some sort of connection to Darth Carnifex and Sol was her brother. Did their mother decide to assign him to them?

An extra pair of hands to make sure they were all safer for it?

No, probably not, Srina Talon wouldn't have weakened the lesson this battle would surely become. Not even for her own children. Eventually the ship settled down, on whatever platform was available, Matteo sprang into action immediately. Undoing the fasteners, his finger twisted and Luna would feel how her own came undone before she could do it herself. Magic, if not for the cheeky wink she received, before he pulled his pack out.

"Ready to go?"

 

[Velda Nar-Donna]

​

WEARING: Black Obsidien Sith robes with some armor underneath.

WEAPONS: 2x Lightsabers and The Dark Side

TAG: Barragh Nenn

OBJECTIVE 1: STORM THE TOWER!!​

The Brosian Ore Conglomerate Mega Tower, a monolith of industry and ambition, clawed its way into the desolate sky, its shadow stretching across the fortress city like a grim reminder. It was a defiant testament, a cold, hard monument to the audacious dreams of the long-dead ore barons.

A wailing wind began to whip across the tower's summit, tearing through the air.

Then, an otherworldly fog, thin and spectral, began to weave itself across the permacrete of the rooftop, emerging from nowhere, its presence snaking with an unsettling, eerie grace.

The low, guttural growl of thunder, simultaneously distant, and yet, unnervingly close, sang through the air.

And the very fabric of reality seemed to shriek, rent asunder with an invisible force.

From the rend within the supernatural atmosphere, a dark, slender figure materialized, standing a fair distance away from Barragh and his guards.

A fleeting, ethereal glow, like a dying star, radiated behind the newcomer for a single, breath-held moment before fading slowly, leaving only the unmoving silhouette etched against the brooding sky.

She wore a heavy, encompassing hood that concealed every trace of her features.

To peer into its depths was to gaze into an abyssal void, an impenetrable blackness that devoured light and banished any hope of glimpsing the face behind it.

For a beat, she stood utterly motionless, her unseen gaze fixed on Barragh. And the Lambda shuttle he arrived on.

Without her face visible, it was impossible to discern the precise nature of her scrutiny, yet her presence resonated with a calculating intelligence.

And while his identity remained a mystery and well, the formidable entourage of guards bristling around him spoke volumes, hinting at a position of considerable importance within the Imperial hierarchy.

Then, her voice, smooth as polished obsidian and laced with absolute certainty, cut through the wind. “Your Empress has made quite a tragic mistake, it is in your interest to stand down.” Her head turned with deliberate, languid grace, her hidden gaze sweeping across his assembled guards before settling back on Barragh. “After all, there is no need to compound the error...”

​

 

[Seraphina Pryde]

Location: Shoengen
Thread Objective: Storm the Tower
Mission Objective: Activate the signal beacon.
Allies: Tova Zyl
Enemies: Lysander von Ascania Lucette Madrona A’Mia

It had been only weeks since Seraphina Pryde was decanted from her vat, naked and gasping her first breaths of life as white-clad med-techs attended to her person. From the tank, she had been cast almost immediately into the fire. That fire was Brosi, manifesting in the viral plague ravaging through the world’s population, the hordes of ravenous undead, the packs of twisted Sithspawn, and yet more abominations that would need to be cleansed to see in order to see the Imperial standard rise over Shoengen.

To that end, Seraphina and a small force had been tasked with activating a high-gain signal relay embedded within the Mega-Tower. A mission that was now even more important given the fact that the relay might be the only thing capable of restoring communication with the fleet.

Failure might see the Imperials trapped and cut down with none but the enemy to hear their cries.

She would not fail.

“Remember, we have at least four hours on the viral suppressants. Keep your rebreathers and seals tight. Nothing comes off under any circumstances.” Seraphina called out to the gathered troopers as the gunship raced towards the designated landing zone. Although they were not strictly under her command, as a Knight-Sergeant, she was a ranking figure in the Imperial military structure, often looked to by the enlisted troopers for leadership, guidance, and as a model of discipline.

"Corporal Zyl, you're with me." Seraphina looked to the small-statured, yet sturdily built heavy ordnance stormtrooper with a twinkle in her eyes, a faint smile playing on her lips. She reached out briefly, brushing her gloved fingers against the corporal's armored forearm in a quiet expression of solidarity. The Lannik would be her battle buddy within the Mega-Tower. In Seraphina's mind, the trooper's raw aggression and overwhelming firepower would complement her own precision and metaphysical finesse with seamless efficiency.

At that, Seraphina adjusted her face mask in spite of the fact that she had already ensured that the seals were secure. The gunship’s passenger bay lurched as anti-air fire struck, but the shields had held. Gripping the overhead handhold, the Hapan shifted her gaze towards the nearby viewport.

What caught her sight was a scene out of myth, made reality: a massive, corvette-sized drop pod slammed into the earth amidst the shambling hordes of undead, sending ripples through the air with the force of the impact. The drop pod’s doors burst open and out poured a deluge of water, creating a raging flash flood that swallowed the surrounding street in seconds.

Seraphina felt her breath catch in her chest, before turning to look away. Fortunately, the landing zone (and the Mega-Tower) was some distance off, so she didn’t anticipate that the monster would come into play for her mission.

However, just as she turned away, out from the drop pod stepped a monster.

And it unleashed a roar so loud that Seraphina thought she spotted a tiny crack manifest in the viewport.

Spoiler: Loadout

• Seraphina Pryde’s Battle Suit
• Seraphina Pryde’s Lightsabers
• G-2 Imperial Standard Blaster
  
  • Attachments
    
    • 1-5x FAE/S-08 Electro-Sight
  • Ammunition
    
    • Power Cell (4)
• NZ All-Purpose Viral Suppressant Type II
• Infrared Smoke Grenade (2)
• FAE/MDE-01-S1 Semiautonomous Seeker Thermal Explosive (2)
• FAE/MDE-02-S1 Semiautonomous Seeker Concussion Explosive (2)

 

[Vakhari Lutris]

Tag: Ronhar Tane

The devastation of the virus was evident and plain to see, if there wasn't a pack of walking corpses there would be piles upon piles of unmarked dead. Ranging from all walks of life, all ages, differing species.

The smog of rot permeated in the air like a vile fog that enveloped all within its despair and stench of death, this place had been stricken with decay, with chaos. There would be one monitoring them who thrived in this environment, one whose very core was being feed by the brutality of this place.

Ronhar and his men would run into many things while on route to their destination, one of which would be hovering and seemingly non hostile droids. Some appeared to just be floating about, others collecting blood from the piles of dead. But for what reason? Their red eye would watch, yet they never attacked. Perhaps too busy with whatever they were doing?

Further on up, their communications would be jammed subbetly, with their directions to the tower being redirected. The reasoning behind this change in path being told there was a strong resistance, and that their time and expertise would be better spent going for the flank.

Nearby was the entrance to the underground rail network, said network linked right up to the tower. Location marked and pinged, seemed simple enough.​

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Objective 1 //:
//: Protect the Tower //:
//: Allies: //: Delsin Shaw //:
//: Enemies: //: Lor'Vekka //:
//: Command //: DeathDrop //:
//: Attire //:

Brosi was a plagued, doomed world, but beneath the decay, it held value. Being dispatched to the planet's surface was the last thing the young Princess had wanted - duty rarely cared for desire.

Closing her eyes, she could feel through the Force the bonds she had formed since youth. Srina Talon , Lunaria Talon , and Soldane Talon - they were here. She didn't fear for them; they were strong, raised like her by kin stronger than anything this galaxy could muster.

<Mother, watch as I become the spear that strikes at the heart of our enemies.>

She had offered all she could. A testament to how far she'd come after years of frustrating stagnation. Everything she had worked towards was slowly coming to fruition, and Brosi would be the next step in her ascension.

A part of her regretted this war, there was a chance for them to work together against the growing Alliance and now the Republic. Quinn had offered a hand in peace, but it seemed like it was too late, or those who would have been able to accept it hadn't met the Princess.

Lips pursed together as she rolled her shoulders back, trying to relax. Too much was already happening - she could feel them crawling along the surface of the planet. Their intent for destruction burned in her bones.

Quinn wasn't alone; near her was one that she had allowed herself to trust. A rarity for her to trust a man, but Delsin had done everything to prove his worth.

They were equals, both Echani, and it seemed Delsin might understand her a bit better than some others. Her eyes drifted from the comm device she held as she watched him. His movements conveyed enough for her to read him. Still, he could probably do the same with her despite her efforts to conceal everything under poise and composure.

Before she was caught staring, Quinn refocused on the comm device as she opened a direct line to one of her operatives. She had pre-recorded the message and quickly sent it to Drystan Creed .

-An image of the Echani would flicker in the corner of Drystan's HUD-

Operative, along with your reassignment, there's a mission task I need you to accomplish for me. Listen, learn, and report back anything and everything you discover while working with the Imperials. Also, any information you obtain from any Sith you encounter.

Stay safe.

Quinn ensured that the encrypted message made its way to the operative.

The others would have their orders. With the device tucked away, Quinn left the rest of the operations to the Arbiter . The being was something more than she had expected, but they were efficient. Quinn couldn't complain, but she wished she could understand more about what the Arbiter was thinking.

Machines had never been her forte.

Exhaling softly, Quinn looked to Delsin, finally, and addressed him.

"Apologies," Quinn said softly as she ran her fingers through her ashen hair, swiftly gathering it into a braid. With practiced ease, she twisted it into a coil and pinned it in place—like a crown resting where it belonged.

Before they could share further pleasantries, Quinn tilted her head and looked down the length of the hallway they were standing in. The room behind them had been locked down, but through the Force, she could feel something shift. Nothing she could put her finger on, but it was enough for her to be suspicious.

"Delsin, watch the hallway for me?" She smiled and turned to open the door to the large room they were covering.

The balconies of the tower proved to be a weak point in the defenses, but locking the door had to be the best way to deal with it…right? As the door opened, her hand began to spark, drawing in her power.

The Force flowed effortlessly, concentrating its energy into a small, almost solid orb of electrical energy.

Quinn allowed the energy in the room to flicker and draw into her as she looked, searching through the Force and with her sight.

"You feel familiar. Have we met?" the Princess asked the entity.

Nothing visual, but the familiar presence moved. Quinn tilted her head, and a clever grin curled at her painted lips.

"Got you."

As the words echoed in the room, the kinetite sphere launched from her hand towards Lor'Vekka's general vicinity.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Brosi. Shoengen. Mega Tower.

Deep within the bowels of the Eternal Rule that loomed beyond the planets orbit, there was a silence that didn't deserve to loom within a ship on the cusp of war. No clanking footsteps came from devoted soldiers treading through the halls, no orders shouted between crew sliding into battle stations, nothing at all. Only the sound of the Dark Side breathing rocking through the halls like the shudder and heave a great wet, diseased lung. The chamber was sealed its lights extinguished, within the very air itself grew heavy as if it were soaked in tar and folded in on itself. Right at its center upon a qabbrat engraved with ancient runes stood the Dark Titan. The Mortarch. The Shadow Hand of the Kainate. Naked from the waist up, His pale, scarred, tattooed tapestry of flesh shimmered beneath the crimson flicker of ritual pyres, His immense frame wreathed in smoke and whispers. Blood marked His chest in ancient sigils, daubed from a ceremonial basin, each line precise, etched in pain across the empowered ink that suffused His frame. The chamber shook as Priests of the Death Speakers chanted in a droning, circular cadence, their voices rising and falling in cycles of invocation. A voice not spoken but willed into the armor itself.

Qâzjiin'vraal. It answered with a hiss like a dying star, the living armor stirred from its bindings. Hooks and chains groaned as it unraveled itself, pulled not by servitors but by hunger alone. Slabs of black Zîrkaris plate floated forward, each etched in smoldering red glyphs. Beneath them, the writhing sinew of malevolent sithspawn biomass slithered through the air like veins seeking flesh. The armor latched onto its master with ritual violence. Plates slammed into place with a thunderclap of sealed agony. The sinew coiled around His form, binding to bone and sinew and fusing with flesh. The air turned rancid at such a sickening transformation of that which shouldn't live. The chamber lights flickered and dimmed as if recoiling from what they beheld. Each section of warplate did not clothe, it consumed. The torso locked with a scream. The spineplate convulsed, embedding itself along his vertebrae like a centipede of iron. Gauntlets snapped into place like the clenched jaws of some ancient predator. The greaves shrieked as they found purchase along thighs and calves, melting into position like molten steel congealed upon wrath.

When the full form was near complete, the helmet descended from its great plinth, suspended by invisible tether. Xûl-Karzaan the Black Maw. The Helm of Dominion. It drifted closer, its abyssal visor flickering with whispering shadows. The Dark Lord didn't reach for his crown, for it claimed him. As it lowered onto his head, the runes along his body ignited. The chamber rumbled with force. Screams filled the air, not from the living, but the dead bound within the armor itself. Each voice etched into the veins of Aurodium, each howl a syllable in the chant of the damned of those slaughtered by His hand. The helm sealed with a bone-cracking hiss and in that moment, the chamber fell utterly silent. Until he breathed.

The giants exhale thundered through the chamber like turbolaser fire, the voice of something inhuman rasping from the helm's abyssal vents. The warpriests collapsed to their knees. Some wept. Others clawed at their own eyes. A few fell dead, minds ruptured by exposure to the unfiltered weight of His presence. He raised His hand. And Ka'ra'nazat, the Abyssal Heart, swiftly affixed itself around His neck, its blood-forged veins threading into His armor like living roots. The aura of dread sharpened, widened. The chamber darkened. Shadows clung to Him like supplicants ready to heed His every whim.

He was no longer a man for He was what death itself feared. The howling of Xûl Qarnak called to Him next. The great warblade levitated from its stand, its bloodfire blade roaring to life in a spiral of smoke and crimson embers. Its core pulsed like a malignant heart and its scream echoed like a dirge through the airless void. He seized it with a hand wreathed in black talons, the weapon fell silent, not from restraint but from satisfaction that it was where it belonged and it was promised blood, and then among the suffocating silence the gates opened. It wasn't the hiss of hangar blast doors, hallway access, or any turbolift. Only a void ripped open by darkness directed by His will alone. Reality peeled like paper and unveiled the battlefield below for the Dark Lord to see: Brosi. Shoengen. The towering corpse of a city gripped by infection and despair. The Mega-Tower loomed like a rotten tooth amidst the ash spewing smoke, guarded by turrets and droids blind with wrath.

Out from that sundered portal, the Dark Lord stepped forward. His silhouette bled into the sky above and with every stride, the ground itself cracked beneath His abyssal weight. Shadows came alive in His wake, rising like tentacles off surfaces towards the source of void that now walked. The runes on His armor flared, devouring the ambient terror that clung to this plague-stricken world. The blight infected wailed and died before He even reached them. Security droids misfired before Him, their cores unraveling from exposure to His presence. Automated defenses turned on their own, corrupted by an aura that made even metal doubt its orders. Sirens howled through Shoengen, distorted by something vast and unseen. Above the chaos, the turbulence of warfare a single voice rose layered in abyssal echoes, serrated by dread like a sharpened blade, and deep as the pit from which nightmares crawl.

"I have come for the tower. I have come to feed the abyss." Where the Mortarch walks, hope turns to ash and the abyss had teeth.

Narantuyaa Asther | Dollshade​

 

[Barragh Nenn]

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

---

It was the voice rather than the presence that gave him pause.

Almost disembodied in its delivery.

Halting, the Praetorians took up a defensive position to either side of figure. There was a stillness then before a gesture from the figure sent the Praetorian Guardsmen away.

The Praetorians would advance towards an access terminal attached to blast doors that served as an entry way into a turbolift which would descend deeper into the Mega-Tower. One stood guard, the other began to splice the terminal.

As for the figure it would reveal one hand which, reaching up out of what upon closer scrutiny could be identified as a very unique Shadowcloak and drew back the hood. The Umbaran peered around himself, side to side as his hand returned to the confines of the cloak. With the Shuttle at his back he had little fear of someone appearing there.

Eventually he would reply...

"The Empress does not make mistakes, only calculated risks."

...to send the Hand here was such a risk though it was an expectation that the Mega-Tower would be under guard...

"I'm afraid I cannot turn away at the mere inference of a threat."

The Umbaran settled, waiting expectantly before calling out again...

"Why not reveal yourself to me? Show me how threatening you are."

This time his voice seemed different, like it was calling out to what it could not see. Umbarans were known for their skill at manipulation, this might be more so amplified by the force. His voice carried a subtle influence with it, beckoning the other to reveal itself.

 

[Naedira Darcrath]

Location: Mega Tower [Service Tunnel]
Objective: Objective I - Storm the Tower!
Tags: Aerik Lechner | [OPEN]
Goals: Sabotage Imperial Forces

________________​

Shoengen had long since shed any level of civility.

Naedira observed the leftover destruction from the plague with a shrewd eye. Buildings were slouched over like drunken relics of a place no one wanted to remember. It wasn't the first time she'd been deposited into a disease-ridden hot zone, and it likely wouldn't be the last. She knew what precautions to take, at minimum, a rebreather—But a full body hazmat suit would have likely been more appropriate. All it would take was one simple mistake and a game of chance…And it was all over.

The infected would likely suffer the madness, reanimation, and be left behind to preserve the rest of the system.

<<Do not die.>>

These were the only words that she offered to her husband. Gerwald Lechner was loyally stationed at the side of his Dread Empress regardless her protest. He never seemed to believe her when she told him that Srina Talon was more than Sith, more, than the shadowy figures he thought he led into battle. The wintry woman was dangerous beyond measure. Not because she was full of terrible power, even if that was also true…But because she lacked empathy. Her mind followed logic. Calculations.

The Echani would always sacrifice the one to save the many. No question, no hesitation. It was evidenced in the fate of Brosi…Brosi was the one. Sterilization attempts had been an effort to save the many. One planet in exchange for an entire system. It wasn't an act of cruelty.

Just math.

It was a harsh reality, bleak, and heartless in a way that offered a distinct sense of relief that she was not responsible for making those decisions. A very long time ago…it had been her call. Now?

Now…She followed orders as any good soldier was tasked to do. She was a wife, mother, and lastly a member of the Sith Order. It didn't mean that she was any less hellbent on keeping their home from the claws of Imperial invaders…But she also had other priorities. Somewhere above them, the upper floors of the Conglomerate Mega-Tower groaned under the weight of automated defenses and corroded systems running wild. The enemy was overconfident, thus far, seemingly pushing through the obvious routes. Were they actually using the front doors?

That was fine because Naedira certainly was not.

The corridor she prowled was an old underground service tunnel that had been abandoned after the infection took hold. It had the scent of dust, ozone, and something sickly sweet that she had no name for. At best…It was reminiscent of rotting meat. The rebreather was more than adept at keeping the virus out, but it did nothing for her sensitive nose. By the Force, the smell was horrendous, and it hit her like a wall the closer they got to their objective.

Her black armor remained soundless, engineered to blend it, and disappear in dim light. Behind her the almost silent footsteps of her son let her keep track of him. Aerik was learning quickly.

He had to.

"I know your father wants you on the front lines.", she murmured, voice low and steady, her eyes scanning the twisting piping overhead. "He won't say it out loud…But I know."

It wasn't that Gerwald wanted Aerik in danger…But he wanted his son to learn to become a warrior. To stand as tall and strong as he did. Naedira was already stretched thin…She couldn't abide worrying about her son at the same time. Aerik as her son. Her youngling. She would not sacrifice him or any of the rest of their children for the sake of an Empire. The auburn-haired she-wolf knelt beside a rust-locked service panel, gloved fingers brushing against the edge of a junction box. Her presence in the Force pressed forward like a razor. Seeking. Then…A quiet click.

A pulse of red. A small spike of interference and code wormed its way into one of the tower's relay nodes through a small slicer tool that slipped neatly past security.

<<First stage of sabotage complete…We'll move one floor at a time. If they access the databases, they'll be in for a surprise... Let their communications eat themselves from the inside.>>

The report was made back to Gerwald Lechner , who undoubtedly had a lot on his plate…But any information they obtained that might aid the cause was worthwhile. She had never heard of the "Ore-Dukes" that kept being referenced, nor did she worry about angering them. If they existed...They served the Order and had failed in their duty to keep Brosi in production. Whatever happened next? Was on them. "Remember…Step carefully and use the darkness to your advantage…Trust your gut. Your instincts will lie less than people do."

She sighed softly and stood up.

"We're not here to be seen, Aerik. We're not here to be brave…We're here to make sure they die—And we don't."

Afterall, there were bigger monsters to handle the heavy lifting.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

​

Equipment:
Armor
Lightsaber

As the landing ramp slowly opened a crimson saber flew through the opening while Varin sat in his prayer position. As the saber whirled it took out many of those in the ship including the pilot. The inside of the cab quickly filled with heated smoke to confuse any thermal scans and slowly Varin stood back up.

Well....someone's impatient.....

Ignati's voice bore into Varins head like a grinding stone on steel.

".....Reckless." Was his only response.

Just as she began to see his shillouette his hand shot forth and a roar of heated flame shot towards whoever was in front of the opening.

"...Get off my ship."

His voice was quiet as he walked forth so he was finally standing on the ramp where he got a good look at his opponent. Swiftly he drew his cross saber hilt and twisted its handle igniting the blade. Like an afterburner it roared to life and graduated to a hum. The white blade shun brightly as its core began to bleed a maroon color. His cloak lit aflame as he stepped forth.

Velcarin