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

[Tarre Priest]

|| Objective II - Seize Means of Production ||
|| Secondary Objective - Heist ||
|| Equipment - Armor, Hammer, Knife, Sniper, SMG, Hand Cannon, Grenades, Pouch, Med, ||
|| Tags - CT-312 | Viers Connory | Spirit of Korriban ||
|| BOUNTY HUNTER ||
PAGE CLAIMED! MINE! ​

In my time being a Mandalorian, and a bounty hunter, I had seen much. However, these undead hoards was a new one for me. They were different than Blackwing, or Gravesong. Each one seemed to be wanting to bring people back from the dead for the only form of making an expendable force to overtake an entire planet. CT and her DeathDrop comrades had already been here trying to quell the situation for the Sith Order. However, now that the Imperial Confederation was attempting to overtake the planet in its worse situation in the past couple years, it made sense that we should take advantage of such a situation.

As soon as we landed, scores of DeathDrop troopers and even a droid contingent spilled out. The hurried rush of boots and scores of the heavy droids feet slamming on the metal ramp and onto the various stone and crete types. I spoke nothing as 312 mentioned that these kinds of undead we needed to make sure to double-tap. A soft radio click came from the helmet as pulled the sniper rifle from my back. Adjusting the sling to be wrapped around my shoulder in a single point. Down low and ready to be used quickly. Pushing the scope of the weapon down to be in line with iron sights. So closer range combat was possible.

"I feel a disruptor would be better 312. Next time, I'll bring one for you."

Moving forward, the giant roar and beams of a specific lizard creature off in the distance was making its waves of conflict and destruction. A smile hidden by the helmet, but heard in my voice as I replied to the comment of the creature was not to be engaged in combat.

"Yet, the thought of hanging its head over my mantle..."

Letting the words trail off before shaking my head and turning around to walk in step with 312 as we moved inwards to the facility. My HUD already lighting up low-light conditions. Highlighting allies with a soft green aura, and any enemies would be lit up with a red one. Above my head, A single finger was lifted and thrown in a circular motion.

"Move out! We got Work to do!"

Walking up towards the depot, As much as I wanted to just go through the front door, we would have to make our own way in. Grabbing one of the grenades, I altered the charge to just be one singular blast. Walking to the wall and placing it like a charge. Taking a bit of liquid-cable cord and attaching it to the wall. Improvised device, but it would do.

"Charges placed. Take positions."

The reason I had such a strong explosive placed there, was to make sure that the hole in the wall would be big enough to fit the droids that CT-312 kept with her. While I was not fond of them, I quickly tapped a couple commands in my wrist-controller, then looked to the DeathDrop trooper.

"Time to see what your Old Man can do yea?"

A button depressed on the holoscreen of my forearm.

SHHHHHHKRABOOOOOMMMM!​

The implosion of the metal and subsequent explosion sent shrapnel out away from the wall and into the air.

"Go."

 

[Brent Warnel]

Brent listened as the six-eyed warrior spoke in her mild tone, her voice almost dripping with some innate knowledge. She knew he was here for something, that wasn't hard to tell, but she didn't know what. He might be able to use that to his advantage. As she continued to talk, though, it set Brent on edge. He was unsure of her, of her position, making this situation precarious. The only thing that kept him even more off-balance was the other individual and how they would play into each other.

Were they enemies, allies? Did they know one another? The fact that they stated they weren't Imperial only meant they could be Sith, right? Sith had a history of infighting, so maybe these two would sooner fight each other than him? He did not know, and that was quickly turning this precarious situation into a dangerous one.

The vibrantly glowing armor of the six-eyed warrior was surgical in its precision while it spoke, turning its head to look at the newcomer who stood between them. She talked of conflict and pain, stating that the Tower would know what they were here for.

"Darth Virelia, Governess of Polis Massa."

Before Brent could reply, the other spoke again. A single word. More of a question, even though it was leveled at the six-eyed warrior as a statement.

'Want?'

A silence took over for just a second before the scaled warrior leveled her words back at the first, with what seemed like slight venom in her voice. As she spoke, she moved away, appearing careless, almost nonchalant as she did so. But Brent was a warrior, had been for decades, and he watched her movements. She was coiled, aware, ready to strike at a second's notice. She was positioning herself to better strike at either of them should it come to that. Her words may have been dismissive of him and the six-eyed warrior, but she was prepared to commit violence.

"I have no titles I care for, but you will know me as Braith Achlys."

The name did not immediately spark recognition, but his helmet recorded everything so he could ponder this later, if he survived. He watched her scaled armor come to life as she stated her name, it almost seemed to squirm around her being. That was an unknown, and Brent knew it would be a problem in the coming minutes. Braith Achlys continued to speak to them, making her intentions clear.

"I deigned to join this play of violence because my daughter is currently indisposed, but the only thing I am here for is plunging my spear into the chest of as many have aligned themselves with the Confederation as there is time for in the rest of the day." She said while she lifted up the weapon she'd spoken of off the ground in her small, clenched, fist. "So, unless you can direct me to bigger fish, I think I'll start here."

"I'll spare you ten seconds if you intend to run."

Brent smiled under his helm; that made her stance abundantly clear. He would use his ten seconds.

"I am known as Kelhav in the Mando tongue. Brent Warnel, in basic," he said as he placed his rifle behind his back, mag-locking it to his armor. "I will find the Sith with the Dark Amethyst adorning his lightsaber, and neither of you will stop me. So let's get this over with."

TAGS: Darth Virelia Braith Achlys

 

[Lirka Ka]

OBJECTIVE II
TAGS: War Marshal Helix , OPEN


Destructive pandemonium followed War Marshal Helix wherever he went, really it was the mechanoids most charming trait. Immensely useful and a grand tool to herald about the catalysts necessary for the Dark Path. It also made it a monumentally simple task to know where the War Marshal and his newest engine of destruction resided upon the chaos of the battlefield. It was merely a matter of getting there without being shot down in the roaring firestorm of the Sith and Imperial clash - it was nostalgic really, in a way, it had been a long time she Lirka had clashed with the traitorous Imperials that would lay low the last Sith Empire. Why in many ways both literal and metaphorical she had been all but a different monster.

Sailing overhead, the Mechanoid’s words reached her ears. Perhaps with some, silent, disappointment. It was a crude, and not inaccurate assessment, though shortsighted. There was always more to war than mere battle when one opened their mind to the Darkness beyond Darkness. His warnings were noted, briefly, Lirka Ka was many things and a thrill seeker was most certainly one when the missiles started being flung. A sharp turn to avoid just such a thing served as quaint accent to her point as she responded to the War Marshal.

“Ever the way with words, Helix. Do not fret, War Marshal, Lirka Ka is not afraid of a few flies. Expect my arrival shortly.”

Of course, it helped that the Once-Sephi was so often allergic to actually…landing compared to merely jumping off of any sort of transport. With the roar of screaming engines as the gunship surged forward across the battlefield, one of the doors slid open and Helix’s Landslide was graced with the resounding metal thud of something large, metal, and heavy landing atop it. She wasn’t exaggerating when she said shortly.

 

[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 | Matteo Guo-Yian

The walking dead...or maybe the undead shambling, whatever they were called didn't really bother the Sceleratii at all, in fact they hardly registered them as they were not considered a threat, not from their position at the very least. All that mattered to these particular droids was completing the orders and tasks they had been given by their superiors.

Their round red eyes, shimmering lights of reflection and electronics slowly covered the landscape before them, their cloaks shielding them from prying eyes, but their swords betraying their presence in the cruelest possible sense to those who were sensitive to it, it was a way to announce the Sceleratii's presence without any revelation, allowing the senses to play tricks on those who were sensitive to the force. For the darkness emanating through the force from within the Sceleratii's alchemic and sorcerous weapons was too weak to be that of a Sith or any comparable being, but powerful enough to not be casually ignored.

Yet under their cloaks, their arms swung, their legs flung, feet planting themselves underneath heavy frames into the ashen ground and dirt, the treeline of the burnt forest seemed to be closest by, their sensory systems picked up moving objects, moving people, though not entirely clear due to the distance, there was clear indication that those people they noticed where... not exactly here without purpose. The movements, the strange shimmer wrapped around them alarmed the droids, for while their own cloaking could not remove the presence of the darkness within their blades, so too was the force not meant to cloak oneself from those who were not part of it.

They would match their pace to the living beings they detected, keeping away from them, spreading out like a fan, slowly attempting to ensnare those they were following. With deliberate speed, cautious movement, the droids in turn would attempt to utilize the cover of the burnt forest to their advantage, stalking the teens, calculating and analyzing their path and by doing so trying to understand if these living beings were going to be a hindrance to the Priority B assignment they had been given.

"Maintain protocol, follow plan Predator... maintain speed, maintain distance...observe," The sceleratii all exclaimed in unison with a metallic whisper. "Inquiring increased surveillance near schoengen... inquiring new information on target location delta-2."

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

​

Battle Bard
Allies: Madrona A’Mia | Lucette | Naamino Zuukamano | Varin Mortifer | Haro Aven
Enemies: Tova Zyl | Seraphina Pryde
Weapons: AI-214x Kylox Flamecaster | Lightsaber

​

Lysander trekked through the outskirts; the pace was akin to his behavior, erratic but oddly purposeful, moving as though he were dancing to a rhythm no one else heard. His boots kicked up gravel, moving along the debris and collapsed structures.

As he darted through an alley and emerged back into an open street, a voice pierced his thoughts; this was a telepathic connection capable of spanning over multiple systems

Lyyyysaaaanderrrr​

Though vaguely familiar with telepathic exchange, the teen fired back amidst brewing chaos.

<<A'Mia, your words wash over me like rain, and should you continue, I shall drown!>>

A sly grin curled at the edges of his mouth during a brief pause, then he continued.

<<You're so cool, Tree Lady!>>

Memories stirred of his time with the other Badawans, his chosen family, and then what was most likely inevitable betrayal from the rest of the students.

But in this moment, under the influence of psychedelics gifted by the Neti, everything around him twisted and turned. Colors and shadows rippled across buildings in waves, while the air tasted oddly sweet and clean on his tongue. In his ear, Naamino's words washed over him. Being referred to as Battle Bard stirred something fierce inside. Haro, the rizzler from Kor'ethyr Academy, cut through the static with a message of his own. The nickname Hellfire sounded like a promise.

Together, it was like a symphony of banter in a group chat, now united by battle.

He traced the sky above, catching but a brief glimpse of their ships. And then, like a sea of cosmic rain, the flammable gel fuel streaked through the air, glittering and sparkling, though perhaps only to him, before splattering across rooftops, sidewalks, and walls in the distance.

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

Now it was time to finally deliver her warning; he raised his voice, singing: "Ayye, the professor said no more leaves, we just need to dodge and weave, vines all tangled, but we know that that lady's mind is beyond wrangled, and so she closes her fungal doors, for all of us spores!"

Suddenly, something he didn't notice before lunged forward, an infected figure. Without hesitation, he aimed the massive rig and squeezed the trigger. Roaring flames erupted, engulfing the creature. Sharp screams pierced the air.

His voice graced the channel once more, a strange mixture of velvet and violence, "Sibylla, Sibylla, carved into smoke!"

Unbeknownst to him, the mention of that name activated the datapad nestled into a magnetic clasp upon his armor; unsurprisingly, this was a device he never traveled without. The Junior Representative's name flashed, accompanied by a picture. But in his current state, he was deaf to the chime. However, his fellow Badawans would not be, as it was synced to their channel.

[System Alert]: Emotional overload
[Voice Recognition]: Keyword ' Sibylla Abrantes '
[Initiating Holocall]…

Another burst of energy surged through him after tapping into his prized Force Speed. Electricity zipped through his legs, which propelled him forward. All around, Brosi twisted like a gorram nightmare. Buildings were still spinning, and shadows looked like living things. But through it all, Haro's earlier words would resurface.

But before he could even formulate a response, unease slithered through the currents of Force nearby. After glancing over his shoulder, the suspicion was confirmed. A mob of undead were chasing after him, clawing at the air and snarling viciously.

Heart thumping wildly, Lysander kept pushing onward, feet pounding against the ground, weapon bouncing ahead. There was no thought of stopping, only the drive to reach the payload awaiting him.

The glittering trail linked different pools, a web networking across the streets and snaking its way to the Mega-Tower. An inferno spewed forth from the gaping maw as the teen swept his arms, leaving a path of destruction. The flames leapt hungrily, setting off a chain reaction with walls of fire blooming, prepared to devour all that they touched.

Pivoting on his heel, the nozzle rose toward the horde closing in; he was consumed with nothing but fury and hate. "Sib, this fires for you. If I burn, let it match your favorite ugly hue! Let Shoengen wear it with pride, as these Imperials have nowhere to hide. Orange is a color with too much noise, and when you wear it, you lose all poise!"

 

[Darth Caedes]

"Why waste effort destroying the enemy's castle when you can simply inhabit it yourself?"
—Darth Caedes, ruminations on the accumulation of Power

Revna Marr | Elmindra Xitaar | Madrona A’Mia | Zal Aditi | Gerwald Lechner | Srina Talon | The Lord of Hunger | Augustus Von Strauss

Thandon Star Cluster
Brosi System
Objective III

Darth Caedes, King of Korriban, lifted his gaze. Golden eyes like spotlights found Revna and locked into place, their glow hot against her skin, so focused was his intent. Like this, and holding her gaze, Caedes willed the features of his face to swim and tug, smooth human-like flesh deflating to reveal the truer, grey and scarred, burnt face of a clawdite underneath, gaunt and with sharply angular features. He would be as he truly was here, before her, at war. Any shame he felt about the monstrous appearance was by now vestigial, a discomfort and loathing which, if anything, further fueled his progression into the Darkness. Already he could feel the tendrils of the Force welling up from within him and filling the empty space of his body, churning in his stomach, oil-slick. He felt it clawing up through his feet like lightning, white hot, his eyes afire with it. His gorge rose and nausea made the insides of his mouth feel slick with saliva—but oh did the Power feel good. The fingers of his free hand curled inward, clenching and unclenching.

"Revna," he summoned, looking momentarily dizzy as the Force overtook him.​

A nervous prickle ran deep inside him, as if the world were full of magnets. He could feel them tugging on him, on the iron in his blood. It was exhilarating and terrifying. It felt violating, yet he ushered it in. More. More. There was something edgy about the Force here on Brosi, a sharp and unbalanced feeling. There had been so much death, so recently that the world still shook with the pain of it. It was desolate, the ground was covered in grey ash. Nothing grew here. So much horror. Each blight consumed corpse or greasy stain was a wellspring of echoed and powerful emotions. Desperation, fear, hopelessness and anger clung to the buildings around him like a tangible stench, riding alongside sunbaked rot on turbulent winds, and offering a kind of poisoned power to him. He breathed it all in, let it fill him further. Despite himself, Caedes smiled, an almost intoxicated expression, shifting the weight of the large seed he held into both hands. Filled like this as he was, Caedes was infinite, his senses far and above beyond the capacities of any mortal creature. He cast his gaze out and could see for miles, over the hills and buildings, through the streets of the neighboring Shoengen, peering through shadows at impossible distances. He could hear even the faintest noises beneath the tumult of war. The clicking of starship cylinders far overhead, the breath of his companions, the beat of their hearts pulsing within fragile flesh bodies. The rustle and snap of approaching boots at his flank.

"Empress," he added, finally breaking his gaze from Revna's and letting it slide past Srina to land upon the Dread Wolf.​

"We are not alone."​

A great figure emerged, tall and armored, and powerful in the Force. Prey, not yet aware of the predator's den he'd just stumbled into.

"Looks like I have found myself in the presence of some minor inconveniences," said the fool.​

Caedes scowled, contemptuous yet otherwise unconcerned.

"Good to see you, my former Empress," he greeted, then slid his attention to the King.​

He raised one hand, fingers poised and outstretched, becoming weapons as he called the Force to him.

"I really do not like this at all."​

Abruptly, black lightning lanced from the Lord of Hunger, arcing and slithering towards himself and the two women like three separate whip-cracks. Hissing through his teeth, Caedes spun and wrenched the seed of Psilofyr away from the attack. With one hand, he caught the forked lightning in a smooth motion. He pulled on the Force and let it know his designs, warping the air betwixt himself and the interloper, folding space and bending the attack's intended path until all three tongues of electricity converged, crackling as they slammed into Caedes' palm. The weight of the attack caused Caedes' to stagger, pushed back a step and pivoting with the sheer weight of it. Ozone filled his nostrils as black sparks curled like serpents round his forearm, snapping from one finger to the next. It was all he could do not to laugh. How futile. How convenient.

"Dread Wolf," proclaimed the King, attention focused now on the chirping, black storm within his palm.​

He admired the lightning, like one swirling fine wine in a crystal goblet, checking for quality and aroma. Like a critic in a museum, studying a work of art as if it hid some greater meaning behind the brushstrokes.

"See that our guest is adequately entertained."​

Unconcerned, Caedes turned away, still fascinated. The lightning remained, reaching out and away from him, trying to escape. Something about it began to change. Its noise, its appearance. Black leeched to grey, then to white, then to a livid and eldritch green.

"We begin, it would seem, with a gift from our enemy," Caedes said, magnanimously.​

The Force swelled within him and the lightning in his palm grew more erratic. Like the roots of a mangrove tree, it expanded, arcing out and around him, using the urban environment to ground itself, blackening lamp posts and leaving scorch marks atop pavement scarred by ur-Kittât glyph-work.

"Let it feed our work," he whispered, as if to the seed he held, then to Revna.​

"Let it feed Psilofyr."​

With the flick of his wrist, Caedes tossed the eldritch beam towards Revna and the Empress. It moved now with a liquid quality, like heated glass, distorting the air it moved through. He took a step inward, approaching the women across from him. The lightning split, chaining towards them each, connecting all three in a squelching weave of unnatural storm. He held the seed aloft in one hand, proffering it forward with near religious zeal—a priest with some holy relic. A tongue of the storm in his palm reached out to touch the seed, one single tendril, smelling acrid. Then another, and another, until the seed itself became just as much a conductor as the three Sith, himself, Revna, and the Empress, bound together in sorcery. When he spoke again it was with a raised voice, shouting now in order to be heard above the chirping of lightning. His eyes were wild with zeal.

"Let... it... feeeeeeeed!"​

 

[War Marshal Helix]

Objective 2
Equipment: Himself
Tags: Lirka Ka Spirit of Korriban /OPEN​

The crawler's flak batteries swivelled suddenly, then boxed an enemy fighter into their zone of fire. The strike craft was struck several times by the repeaters, then once full force by the foreward aft phosphor cannon.

If Helix possessed the capacity, he'd almost have felt sorry for the pilot. Being trapped in an enclosed space with a blob of flaming, aerosolized toxic chemicals was not a pleasant way to go. As he'd designed the weapon himself, however, he'd had plenty of time to douse his nonexistent guilt in credits.

What surprised him was the pilot's reaction. The fellow couldn't have lived more than an instant or two under those circumstances, but chose to use those last few microseconds to set the fighter on a collision course for the supercrawler.

The AA began to track the toppling aircraft, but Helix halted them with a silent mental impulse. This was a teaching moment. The craft spiraled downward, then detonated spectacularly against the crawler's command deck, mere meters from the crew... to no avail. When the smoke cleared, the crawler was unharmed.

"Cute." Muttered Helix. "Take a good long look, gentlemen. He died as he lived: inconsequential. If there's an afterlife, someone is going to have some awkward questions to answer." Helix was normally fairly affable, but was in especially rare good humor now. He'd begun to see the positives in his assignment, if only as a way to scrape up some decent field data.

The enormous vehicle continued its lazy guard patrol around the factory district, occasionally pausing to vaporize some target or other that it disliked. Helix gave languid attention to the crawler's reports as it moved. The sluggish droid vehicle had eaten enormous amounts of raw materials. He chided the machine for its gluttony, then considered. It might be worth getting some faster-moving recon on the job.

"Lieutenant, fire up the Cornerstone and assemble ten lances of four Strider-Class droids each. Have them spread out and sweep the sector. The plasma batteries are not glowing enough for my tastes. I'd like something to shell."

The crawler's aft assault ramp dropped with a thunderous boom, shaking the dust off the surrounding area. The freshly-constructed light tank-walkers skittered out, their photoreceptors swivelling anxiously as they beheld a sky for the first time. Their apprehension lasted only a moment. Dutifully, the droids split into groups of four, then zipped off on patrol.

Helix watched them go with something akin to pride, then returned his attention to the control room.

"Beautiful, is it not?" He asked, noting Lirka's arrival, heralded by the sound of boots hitting the roof above his head. He grimaced, but supposed it was probably his fault. He should have known better than to expect anything conventional when it came to Lady Ka.

"The future of terrestrial warfare. Real-time creation of whatever the situation demands. Imagine it, Imperator. Dropping but one of these machines into enemy territory. It could assemble any support it needed on its own. It is difficult to imagine a more perfect tool for exploring hostile territory. Area defense in this manner is not its intended purpose, but it seems to serve well enough."

Helix leaned back in his command chair, basking in the glow of his achievement. "Flak platform, artillery battery, troop transport, aircraft staging area, command center, and factory. All wrapped up behind eight layers of starship-grade thermal shielding. They'd have to drop a moon on us to even scratch the paint job." He was exaggerating a bit, but so what?

"Something of a waste to have it patrolling around a factory district, though. The Sith own a million little planets like this one, most of them with a lot more factories than this one. I'm only here at all to field-test it, in truth." The supposed cultural significance of the holy worlds was lost on him. Helix viewed almost everything in terms of utility. Almost everything.

Still, he supposed he had his orders, as much as he reserved the right to grumble about them. He'd stay here all week if he had to, and would either successfully defend the factories, or find a likely stooge to blame for their destruction.

 

[Horus Rhyne]

Location: Brosi
Ally: Sophia of House Marr

"I have been lucky since the day you allowed me to court you." Horus responded with honeyed words. It was as if he couldn't turn it off and she had experience with it. She knew that he almost never did. He had been ruthless about it too, pursuing her. Sophia had turned him down so many times, kept pushing him away, but Horus just kept on coming back.

And once she accepted, he didn't leave as she expected. No, he stayed. And stayed loyal at that.

It seemed he had chosen a woman to be with from the start and committed utterly to it.

"I am not the one who decides, darling..." Smirking a little as she pulled him with her and he stepped into the rhythm alongside her. "It is whatever you wish. At my side, heading your own department, an offshoot..." He wouldn't prefer the third option, since it meant they wouldn't be together as much, but perhaps it would appeal to some need of independence after being with her family for so long.

Hip checked hip as they reached the transport with their gear.

The explosions were still in the distance, but Horus knew that wouldn't be for long. Eventually someone would come this way. Be it an imperial strike force, a regular patrol or even an accidental air force busy dog fighting each other. They'd have to be ready for it.

He felt through their connection the question on her mind. The one he hadn't answered before because his eyes had been fixated on the datapad.

"I have wondered that myself." As if she had spoken outloud instead of in the privacy of her mind. "The Sith Emperor didn't seem to mind utterly destroying Tion and more, so why is this any different?" She knew how much distaste that had risen in him. People were a resource. Brosi would have been a fine target to destroy, toxic swamp and all, but Tion had been different.

They began to unpack the gear and distribute it, her helmet to her, his boots.

 

[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

He glanced back to Sol for a moment.

They had been through a lot on that dead world, but Matteo still wasn't sure he really knew him. He guessed that someone in his position needed to keep his cards close to him. That made for a lot of loneliness however.

"We are here if you need us." Matteo just added after what Luna said before joining her down to the ground. And just as the girl, his nostrils flared at the sheer reeking stench that immediately forced its way up into his nose. "What the kark." He hissed as he covered his nose up with his elbow, but it just kept on coming straight to his arm.

In that way he wasn't faring much better than Luna.

Maybe it was comeuppance for lying to her that they'd get used to all of this. Clearly it was one indignity dropped on the next. "You know, I am starting to think the Academy wants us dead or worse." He muttered as he caught up with her. Anything else Matteo wanted to say was left by the wayside as he noticed belatedly what Luna had already clocked.

They were near a battlefield and it wasn't with just the living. The dead were walking here. It was disturbing to Matteo for more than one reason. He was addicted to Force Drain, it had a lot of negatives, but the positive was that he could quite easily track people around him. He could smell them, sense them and he didn't do it by their force signature. It was their very life that Matteo could sense, which was much harder to cloak.

He stayed silent and let Luna lead him, even as she grasped his hand and pulled him along, then even pulled him against her as they were forced to stop to avoid straying in the path of one of those filthy moving things.

"We can make it." Matteo reaffirmed with a nod and gently squeezed back. She was just holding him to keep them both safe, but he took the opportunity to reassure her. "He will be okay." Him being her brother, but also- "And you will be okay. And I will be okay." It was now nothing more than a whisper, only for her ears.

"This is what we trained for."

Once the undead had passed, he'd nod to her once more, before it became his time to pull her with him. They couldn't use the Force here lest the undead would feel their presence, but they were fast and agile as they sped.

Somewhere up ahead there had to be a way to force themselves into the underground here. To find what they came here for.

 

[Ashin Cardé Varanin]

Something worth knowing, murmured a certain voice in the head of Spencer Varanin from extremely far away and yet not actually that far at all. The voice was old, megalithic, immersed in books, resonant of ice across ten thousand worlds, and very happy to help her wife out in this one small way.

The anti-Force is to the Force and the life forces of our universe precisely as antimatter is to matter, at a definitional level.

They annihilate each other and produce powerful energy usable by all appropriately skilled parties involved.

Enjoy.

And I am not late. I arrive precisely when I mean to.

 

[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!!​

With his two guards abruptly disposed of. She expected him to draw some sort of weapon in his defense. And yet, he did not.

How truly… intriguing.

Then, his questions began to flow, laced with keen observations, dissecting her presence, her being.

These were inquiries whose profound answers were meant only for the select few she permitted to know. Answers far more intricate than the Umbaran, with all his imperial wisdom, could possibly fathom.

“What do you think?” she queried, turning his own observational style back on him. This was her counter, spurred by his musings on her upbringing speculating whether her "master" had painstakingly shaped her education, or if she was born instead into the gilded cage of status and privilege. The true answer, of course, was already unequivocally hers, yet a spark of curiosity nudged her. She genuinely wondered what conclusion he might have drawn.

The curious phrase, “within the circle of their arm every man is a king,” sounded utterly foreign to her ears. It held an unfamiliar cadence.

“No, I can’t say that I have, care to elaborate?”

She had halted her measured, slow advance, positioning herself well beyond arm's reach, adding a cautious step or two more. It was a subtle, tactical move, just in case he harbored some concealed, unnamed weapon. The Umbaran's unnerving composure, after witnessing such swift carnage, was a significant red flag.

She would afford him the courtesy of reaching his point...

...For now...​

 

[Marlon Sularen]

A L L_Y O U R_B A S E_A R E_B E L O N G_T O_U S
Objective III : The Battlefield is Constant Chaos

IMPERIAL CONFEDERATION
BROSI, OUTER RIM TERRITORIES

​

Spoiler: Sularen's Fleet

TASK FORCE THRAWN
Main Fleet : INV Sularen's Revenge [100|100] INV Retribution [100|100] INV Judicator [100|100] INV Ironfist [100|100]
Starfighter Compliment [Squadrons] : TIE/IAx Advance Interceptors [33/33] TIE/DT Destroyer [12/12] TIE/ss Supremacies [5/5] TIE/sb Strike Bombers [3/3] GAT-36 Imperial Blastboats [2/2]

Sularen watched through the holographic display as the rest of the Imperial Fleet began to advance into the asteroid field to confront the Sith Fleet, until now he had maintained silence and let his subordinates coordinate fleet movements amongst themselves, but now he saw imminent danger and disaster. By positioning themselves within the asteroid field, the Sith were trying to force the Imperials to fight on their terms by already choosing the battlefield and tempting the Imperials to challenge them within it. The Supreme Commander had no doubt that the Sith were planning on springing some sort of trap within the asteroids to decimate the Imperial Fleet.

Normally, Sularen would immediately contact the other commanders and tell them to pull out of the asteroids, but then he thought of another option. One in which would see the Sith trap undone and their arrogance shattered. For now he would let the three Imperial Fleets confront the Sith forces in the asteroid and let them face whatever the Sith had in store for them. Once the Sith would play their hand, Sularen would intervene and crush the Sith in what they would think would be their moment of victory.

Until then he would watch and observe as his subordinates clashed with their Sith counterparts and who knew, maybe his subordinates might come up with something that would completely dismantle the trap laid out by the Sith before he could even intervene. However, only time would tell whether the Sith would be succeed with the trap what they had stored for the Imperials.

[TIC] | Ronhar Tane | Calin Rakel | Squesha | Lord Rasnuhl
[SO] | Darth Carnifex | Elmindra Xitaar | Rowyna Galeway | Darth Malum of House Marr
[Misc.] | Braze ​

 

[Barragh Nenn]

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

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She stopped well out of arms reach. He did not react.

Looking at her, Velda Nar-Donna would see the amber in his eyes radiating with some amount of brilliance. He focused on something but as of yet what would remain a mystery. Perhaps it was her, perhaps not.

Now that she was closer Barragh could admire her properly. She was an attractive woman, young too. No doubt many men would compete to be seen by her side in any number of social circles. Beauty like that had a way of foster arrogance in some, it made them more susceptible to ego which also was not uncommon in the Sith.

His vision had returned to the normal spectrum now that she'd come closer. This had nothing to do with the amber hue of his eyes.

Tipping his head as though he were inclining himself to her he would have remarked...

"Well, you are no commoner."

...Barragh had a way of answering questions with observation, in this case he'd her what he thought. Whether that meant he determined she was royalty or if it was an observation that played on the subtleties of her movements as they related to her training and expertise was for her to interpret.

He did not care to elaborate further on his other statement or what it entailed.

Instead he took a step forward, she would be unable to see his feet as they were concealed beneath his Shadowcloak however however the linear distance between them would have shortened. Another step followed, then one more after that and Barragh would have said...

"I am going to enter the Tower now. If you wish to stop me you will need to do so."

...another step followed, then another. He would walk towards Velda without hesitation though every step he took seemed measured, calculated by him. If she didn't move it seemed as though he would walk towards her until they were mere inches apart. Of course she could back away, matching his advance with a withdrawal or step aside.

 

[Darth Strosius]

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

The strangely clad man's remark proved to be a surprisingly profound and agreeable sentiment, one that visibly surprised the masked man as He inclined His head in contemplation before offering a small nod. "Well said." For once Darth Strosius couldn't agree more. It was rather unfortunate that this odd fellow was going to fall victim to his own words in just a few moments, a fate that was self determined the moment that he stood his ground rather than backing away like He had suggested.

Rather than an outright charge, His apparent opponent loosed a wave within the Force to offset any immediate counters to his advance. A tactic which would force Darth Strosius to deal with the telekinetic force and thus allow the odd man to get within close range. Clever but far from unmanageable. His stance shifted to a more defensive posture bearing His lightsaber towards the crimson-clad man while His free hand splayed out wide as the burst drew near.

Like a rock against a storm He held firm even as the metal plating warped around Him as the wave came, standing His ground and diverting the force around Himself. Simple but effective, lacking the flash and exaggeration of His opponent. An opponent which, while having drawn a weapon, failed to follow the advance with an attack. Darth Strosius fully intended to take the initiative where His opponent had not and make him regret the hesitancy dearly.

His sword flew from its place on His belt into His free hand as He surged forward, moving almost disturbing quickly for one clad in such heavy robes and armor that His footfalls left small dents in the floor plating. His lightsaber was swung low to try and bat against the drawn blade, if only to keep it occupied, whilst His sword was thrusted forwards towards the man's shoulder and collar.

 

[Fiolette Yvarro]

Vector Three-Five-Niner — Outer Approach, Thandon Star Cluster
Designation: Concordia
Vessel: FIV Rae Sloane
Objective 3: Fleeting
Allies: Elmindra Xitaar | Darth Malum of House Marr | Darth Carnifex
Opponents: @Lord Rashnul Calin Rakel | Ronhar Tane | Squesha | Marlon Sularen

The call sign wasn't hers. Not originally.

It belonged to the Grand Vizier now, the one who bore her name in the halls of the Commonwealth. But today, today it was loaned back.

Concordia moved into position.

The FIV Rae Sloane emerged from hyperspace in perfect silence, no flash, no flare. Of considerable Long-range distance, behind several noted anomalies that in time may reveal themselves to be enemy ships.

Predators didn't roar when they hunted.

Crimson light bathed the command bridge as systems came alive. Grand Admiral Fiolette Yvarro stood at the heart of it, framed against the slowly sharpening tactical display. One gloved hand rested neatly at the rail, the other curled behind her back. A breath. A beat. No words yet.

The Sloane's Cronau Radiation Amplifier, Tachyon Pulse Emitters, and Gravimetric Sensor Net swept the void like a scalpel, carving a shape out of shadow. Somewhere ahead, among the anomalies, was the Rae Sloane's target.

"Receiving combat data from Commonwealth assets," came the tactical officer. "Anomalies confirmed, bearing three-five-niner. Mass displacement irregularities detected. Cloaked object likely super-capital class."

Fiolette's eyes flicked across the data. Her voice, when it came, was ice.

"Cloak us."

A hum rolled through the hull as the Sloane's stealth suite engaged, bending photons, suppressing signatures. The great ship didn't vanish, but it became lost in the noise. A phantom among echoes.

"Hold formation at long-range standoff," she continued.

Her gaze lingered on the map, where anomalies behind a veil of false confidence.

A low chuckle escaped her as she turned away from the display.

"Let's see how well he cloaks with a bulkhead in his throat."

And thus, the Sloane waited.

Not for permission. No, it waited for the moment, as her mass driver cannons began to spool and targeting data, Commonwealth SIGINT data and anti-stealth technology worked to paint a picture for Fiolette.

 

[Sieliel Dimegor]

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

Sieliel Dimegor Bounty.

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​

OBJECTIVE III.

The first impact was light- a mere tremor against her hull.

Then the storm came.

Ion blasts ripped through space like lightning, blue-white tracers scarring the stars as the cloaked vessel unveiled itself behind them. One TIE/ss fighter erupted into flame off her starboard. Another spun out, venting atmosphere, its pilot screaming over the comm before static swallowed the sound.

"Black Wing! Evasive pattern gamma!"

Sieliel jerked her yoke hard, sending the fighter banking downward in a spiral that skimmed the outer shielding line of the Vindicator. The ship's shields flared briefly above her, pulsing like a heartbeat. She felt more than heard the next wave of cannon fire as it tore through the void where she'd just been. There was no telemetry. There had been no warning. Just… him.

The Spear III had come from nowhere. Like a phantom. The shape she had dismissed in the debris field now returned, vivid and real. As she banked downwards, Sieliel tried to warn her comrades. "Unknown hostile! Firespray class, I repeat, they were cloaked! This isn't Sith standard. Check your six!"

But no reply. The comms flared with garbled noise, overlapping callsigns, panic—then silence. She checked her instruments to discover that this wasn't jamming. It was abandonment.

A sharp course correction swung her into the shadows of the debris ring. Chunks of scorched hull and broken turrets rolled past her viewport. Sieliel's hands moved on instinct- to kill the thrust, angle her stabilizers, and throttle burst- sliding her fighter into temporary cover while she assessed the damage. Red lights blinked on the right side of her HUD. Shields at 43%. Wing stabilizer offline. Comm relays degrading.

The silence that followed wasn't tactical. It was personal. She reached for the comm again. "Black Lead, this is Black Two. Repeat: Black Two. I'm alive. Pursued by unknown. Coordinates uploading now. Do you read m-?"

The only voice that came back was from Flight Control.

"Black Two… confirmed compromised. Standing orders are to disregard. Fall back to regroup point Gamma."

Sieliel blinked. She was confused by it. No... It was more accurate to say that she was stunned by what was happening.

Disregard.

They had written her off. Just like that.

Of course they had.

The Fifth Wing. They didn't need to be said aloud. Instead they echoed in the dead air between transmissions. The old whisper. Traitor. Spy. Her court martial hadn't erased the stain. It had only buried it under protocol. Her pardon was tactical. Temporary. She was the ghost in their formation and her comrades had never forgiven her for the alledged crimes of treason, sedition and conspiracy against the former regime. There was no place for her in the new Confederation, it seemed.

A ghost was easy to abandon.

Sieliel gritted her teeth and kicked her fighter forward through the debris cloud. Chaff scattered in her wake, disrupting what little pursuit she assumed was still behind her. The cloaked Firespray hadn't struck again yet but it was out there. Hunting her. She could feel it. No squadron. No backup. Just her verses the ghost of the past. Was it LAETOR themselves, or someone they had sent after her? Perhaps the Fifth Wing were not gone as she and the others in the Confederation had suspected? Or was this the work of something else in service to the Sith Empire who had been given an opportunity of a lifetime now that their prey had been abandoned by their supposed allies?

"Come on, then," Sieliel whispered, scanning the field. "If I'm already damned… let's see how much hell I can drag with me."

She locked onto a nearby sensor spike. Maybe it was a fragment of Fett's ship, maybe bait. Priming the ion engines of the TIE/ss, Sieliel steered toward it.

If she was going to go down, Sieliel- the last of HOUSE DIMEGOR- would not go quietly.

---

 

[Darth Virelia]

Tags - Brent Warnel , Braith Achlys
Equipment - Tyrant's Kiss, Tyrant's Embrace, 3x CV-1 Gas Grenade (The Choking Veil)​

So. Braith Achlys.

Virelia filed it away with surgical interest. The woman moved like an aftershock, deliberate and dangerous, as if she'd already torn the world down once and was merely walking through the rubble to see what was left to break. That she aligned herself so easily against the Confederation made her an ally—for now. Virelia needed no oath. Intent was the only allegiance that mattered.

The Mandalorian—Brent Warnel—was harder to place. There was pain in him. Not grief, but pressure. A body built around trauma, layered like phrik. And yet, beneath it, something clung to purpose like rot to bone. He had the audacity to name his quarry. A Sith with an amethyst blade. How quaint. How specific. That told her everything. This wasn't an operation. This was personal.

"You speak of names," Virelia said softly, "as if they anchor you. But names are just the surface of things. They're not who you are. Not here. Not now."

Her stance didn't shift, but the air did. Subtly. The tower seemed to exhale as her emotions folded inward like blades sheathed in silk. Calm. Cold. Certain. She did not draw on fury. She refused to. Instead, her hatred refined itself into a perfect filament, wound tight through her like a garrote. And the armor responded. Veins of violet light pulsed through the filigree of her carapace, glowing brighter as the conduit lattice awakened.

Power surged—but not with noise. Force Valor, corrupted and sharpened into a monstrous parody of heroism, bled into her muscles and nerves, lacing them with flawless poise. Her strength became absolute. Her mind, crystalline. Her speed, uncoiling.

"You want a beginning," she murmured, eyes flashing. "Fine."

Her voice, unshaken, turned low. Inevitable.

"Your move."

Not a taunt. Not a dare. A gift. Spoken like a sovereign offering war from an open palm. Let the Mandalorian throw himself into legend. Let Braith show the past it had not been forgotten. She would wait—not passive, but coiled. And when the first blow was thrown, when the line was crossed, she would respond.

And she would end it.

 

[Velcarin]

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

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​

OBJECTIVE II.

Equipment:

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

​

The sky is raining fire.

Beneath the visor of her Menasor equipment the blue, sad eyes of Velcarin gaze upwards to a spectacle of destruction wrought by the King of Titans-- Garza . The beast- the monster- seemingly drew no distinction between ally or foe for as she stood in the refuge of the burning, destroyed tank in front of her as Sith and Imperial transports, personnel and technology were caught in the maelstrom of the Force Destruction it had unleashed upon the world of Brosi.

These were the consequences of collateral damage.

It hurt to breathe as she hid beneath the tank. Although Velcarin didn't have anything to confirm it she felt that a rib had broken during the assault of the dead, and unfortunately for her, there was an opponent on the field that would afford her no other time to check for injury, or perhaps more terrifyingly signs of infection as Varin Mortifer engaged his opponent to finish what she had started.

The Force Push caught the Inquisitor by surprise. Launched through the air to scrap along the ground in three rolling, dreadfully painful duds and thuds along the scorched, ruined grounds of the battlefield, Velcarin summoned herself back to their feet with the Force and reactivated their Lightsaber at the last possible moment to block Varin's strike less it meant certain death.

In such combat an outright block, for particularly a woman of her size, was not advantageous or suggested. It was better to deflect, or parry incoming strikes, in order to save energy in the fight. But Velcarin had had no choice. The armour she was wearing was fantastic but against the energy blade of a Lightsaber it would offered little to no protection. As her crimson red weapon held itself up against Varin's with the struggle and strain of someone weaker physically than the taller, more ferocious Sith apprentice, Velcarin fell to a knee as her opponents weapon drove nearer to it's true target. She gasped in pain and felt like her lungs were ripping inside her from the injuries that she had already sustained in the battle.

Something had to give.

Adopting a one handed hold upon her Lightsaber hilt, Velcarin swung her free hand out to grab upon Varin's shoulder blade, and at the same time, she acrobatically contorted her body to perform a barrel roll and kick to send the taller man over her. As their blades left each other and space was created between them in no-mans land, Velcarin stood back up to her feet quickly and regarded her opposition with cold blue eyes that were now refocused to kill Varin Mortifer.

---

 

[Koda Fett]

Sieliel Dimegor Bounty
​

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The blue cannon fire rapidly struck out in a violent lash and connected with the center sphere of the first TIE. It erupted into a ball of flames, the two squared sides blasted off and crumpled. One. He pivoted the Spear III and the ion lasers hit the connecting section of cockpit and squared side, causing it to spiral out and crash into debris. Two. Fett let loose two missiles, a blue light marked their trails as two more of the TIEs were caught off-guard in the sudden assault, with their evasive maneuvers failing to avoid the missile lock. Three, four. The remaining two split into an evasive formation. He flipped the coin, veering left when he should have gone right. Another barrage from the ion cannon. Five.

It only left six.

His ship intercepted the communications. Alone, abandoned. Good.

Fett skulked about the debris field, the lights of the Spear III illuminating the darkness. His T-visored gaze remained affixed on the sensors, scanning for signs of movement, of life itself. Nothing, not yet. Then, at last. Behind him. He pushed down on the throttle and the ship raced ahead in an effort to evade the incoming fire. It connected with the shields, one, two, three. Enough.

The Spear III swung up behind more debris and continued on ahead, leaving a seismic charge behind.

 

[Tales of the Rule of Two]

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Brosi, Corporate Sector, Outer Rim Territories;
Thandon Star Cluster;
Tags: CT-312 | Tarre Priest | Viers Connory |

The Mailor Heist.

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​

OBJECTIVE II.

The machinations of the Sith have no bounds even unto themselves for it was Bane who taught his apprentice that the ways of the dark side are one of betrayal and inherent deceit.

Indeed, The Nomad knew this as well, and so on that course, suffering desert on Kalist- in the shadow of a race long consigned to ruination- a woman had been taught in their ways. Together, they breed destruction into order to create.

DeathDrop find themselves intertwined in the tapestry upon the ruined lands of Brosi.

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THE MAILOR HEIST ​ <:// BOUNTY NOTICE //:> <:// Bounty Hunter ID: CT-312 //:> <:// Location: Dostra System, Brosi //:> <:// Client: Anonymous Her //:> <:// Target: Zinsain: Delta 1, Delta 2, and Mailor //:> <:// Obtain 30 kg of Hfredium from the Mailor. Zinsian from Delta 1 and Delta 2. //:> <:// TRANSMITTING. //:> <:// CONTACT ESTABLISHED. //:> <:// SOURCE: LIANNA CITY. //:> <:// 4PPR3NTISE. //:> DR. HFREDIUM CONTRACT. CONTACT. MARKING, MAILOR INSTALLATION. MARKING, CONFEDERATION FORCES. TRANSMITTING.

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The Imperial remnants have long been under the guidance and influence of the shadowy cabal ruled in secret by the Rule of Two. It began when Alicia Drey joined the regime that had called itself the Empire of the Lost as their first step towards infiltration. When the Empire fell (through an economic collapse engineered by the two Sith in their midst) and the Imperial Confederation took over the lands formerly ruled by the Kilran Dynasty (through their design) so too did they find their way into the hearts and minds of the four remnants unified by the reign of Liraeth Deschart.

As DeathDrop land on the scarred planet of Brosi to complete the heist posted by the master in the weeks leading up to the Thandon Star Cluster Campaign, through the connection established between CT-312 and the Krykna Mafia (a criminal organisation found in Lianna City who are long time associates of the woman behind all of this), they find themselves surrounded by enemy hostiles.

Swarms of the undead who seek to kill everything in their sight, and who know no-difference between friend or foe. There are also Sith forces in charge of the defense of the city of Shoengen and the Mailor Processing Centre of which Imperial forces are attempting to seize as per their objectives during the invasion of Brosi.

Suffice to say, despite DeathDrop's clever useage of Quinn Varanin to find their way onto the planet, the Sith defenders would not appreciate the fact that this team of bounty hunters are here to fulfil a heist requiring the theft of 30KG of Hfredium from the deposits found in the processing centre described in the notice that was posted in the advent to the attack on Brosi, and Confederation forces- overwhelmed, and surrounded by eldtrich horrors of the dead- have itchy trigger fingers to say-the-least.

Then there is the logistics of the operation. How do they transport that much material off-planet (intact) back to Lianna to deliver the cargo in exchange for the agreed sum of credits?

Indeed, they are following the action with great intrigue and interest for, if the DeathDrop were successful, then they would find themselves with a long-term employer.

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