Faction Ashen Corridor | Crimson Dawn [ME] Public Operations

[Icy]

OPERATION: ASHEN CORRIDOR

Aeten II Asteroid Field – Fringe Desert Port
OPEN TO ALL CRIMSON DAWN OPERATIVES
​

In the aftermath of the Diarchy’s humiliating defeat at Yaga Minor, the power structure they once relied upon has fractured. From that fracture, something uglier has crawled out.​

​

They call themselves The Diarch’s Hand.​

​

They are not a formal remnant government, nor a disciplined military. They are a splinter syndicate — zealots and warlords who believe the chaos left behind is an invitation. Their goal is not revenge. It is profit. Influence. Territory.​

​

Intelligence confirms that the Hand has moved into the Aeten II asteroid field, well outside Mandalorian jurisdiction. They have landed at a fringe desert port under armed escort, offloading heavy crates and fortified equipment. Their intention is clear: establish a rival smuggling corridor before Crimson Dawn can react.​

​

If they succeed, they will create competition along routes we intend to dominate. If we move quickly, we do not just stop them; we inherit their foothold.​

​

This is not simply a raid. It is an opportunity to expand.​

***

Operational Objectives:​

Spoiler

ARRIVE BEFORE FULL UNLOAD

Speed is critical. The Hand has not yet completed unloading their cargo. Once their crates are fully transferred and their perimeter defenses established, removing them becomes far more complicated.​

​

Strike while they are vulnerable. Disrupt their crews. Prevent heavy weapon emplacements from being properly installed. The less time they have to settle, the less blood we will need to spill.​

​

DISABLE THEIR SHIP

Their freighter is their lifeline. It is how they retreat, resupply, and project power into surrounding systems.​

​

Ion damage, sabotage, or targeted strikes against engines and hyperdrive systems are preferred. If the vessel can be captured intact, it becomes an asset to Dawn. If that proves impossible, it must at least be rendered immobile.​

​

Destruction is permitted only if no alternative remains.​

ELIMINATE ARMED RESISTANCE

The Diarch’s Hand travels with hardened enforcers. Expect military-grade blasters, repeating cannons, and organized defensive tactics. Reports suggest at least one Force-sensitive zealot embedded among their leadership.​

​

Command figures and elite fighters are priority targets. Break their chain of command, and the rest will falter.​

​

Labor crews and non-combatants are not the focus. This is a surgical removal of opposition, not a massacre.​

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SECURE CARGO & CREW

The crates they are unloading are believed to contain weapons, spice shipments, encrypted financial records, and possibly droid components. Every crate is potential leverage.​

​

High-value materials must be secured. Officers should be captured when possible for interrogation and intelligence extraction. Lower-tier operatives may prove recruitable under the right pressure.​

​

Everything they brought here to empower themselves should instead strengthen Crimson Dawn.​

​

Spoiler: Tag

Kurayami Bloodborn
Alden Akaran
Kael Varr
Hrist
Vael Saren
Elian Abrantes
Serrik Skirata
@Astella Verd
Quinn Varanin
Ivalyn Yvarro
Rowyna Galeway
Xerxes Verd
Tessa Thayne
Mia Monroe
Azen Kast
Cyran Vaas
@Cabur Nau'ur
@Kotak Vikar'Ranov
Avast Verd
Pal Veda
Dral Kar'taal
Reina Daival
Eenia Vahn
Adelle Bastiel
Nianuke cyt
Zurak Bruul
@Ajalurk-Chaidth Kryze
@Arden Priest
Vantis Saxon
Edward Ashcard
Persephone Halcyon
Inez
Mar Skirata
Korda Veydran
Sula Skirata
Sidonia
Maur
Ferris Skirata
Veyla Krinn
Renn Vizsla
Perseus
Hubert Starhopper
erida Lok
Drexan Ordo
Ryzen Vord
Amelia von Sorenn
Zet Reav
Acier Moonbound
@Colden Renth
@Domina Prime
Shot Sutaz
Drystan Creed
Kyor "Mute" Jaeirr
Brent Warnel
Vahlika Velhaari
Hilal Vizsla
Sibylla Abrantes
Alyvia Toss
Vanadium
Platinum
Electrum
Elira Verd
@Viera
Nando
Tin
@Serra Toss
Ranna Sejast
Aiden Wolf
Palladium
Songsteel
Alara Ordo
Minerva Fhirdiad
Aadihr Lidos
Azurine Varek
Kayte Toss
Lynn Caromed
Fabula Caromed
Is'ekapi Rex
Dreidi Xeraic
Grym Lok
Skye Mertaal
Zee Caromed
Rheyla Tann
Haken Ralo Bolt
Ginjako Brorai
Maiz Tor'val
Xasin Dyst
Sanguina Krev
Svidur Galaar
Vaux Gred
Mig Gred
Edrick Aethelred
Tarre Priest
Cerar Vizsla
Kassandra Beskar'ad
Kad'irk'Ra
Janous Ryss
Liorra
Tyr Mereel
Conrad
Aren D'Shade
Zel Sharratt
Korra Kast
Whottoomuzz Chantin
Reshim
Red Mobius
Emilia Locke
Athena Faar
Thalira Kiing
Vulcan Krayt
Delsin Shaw
Montello Deshra
Adonis Angelis IV
Siv Kryze
Jaikell Wyrvhor
Itzhal Volkihar
Valah Hagen
Vytal Noctura
Suleiman Lok
@Kyrida Verd
Jiriad Galaar
Kandosii Ka'rta
Manti Wyrvhor
Mia Monroe
Ladante Mamba
raef Malstadt
Ciri Jade
Lunara Azure
Kirae Orade
Ro'talius Emanti
Alora Vizsla
Zhulghua
Kalðr Ísbjørn
Cordelia Malkavian
Drego Ruus
"Templar"
CT-312
Tomaj Eldar
Rhys Swynol
Lysara Rynn
Nephthys Nardithi-Verd
Hanna
Siae Andronike
Zlova Rue
Runi Kuryida
@Ren Ashbridge
Aliza Vale
Thram Drokor
Sagan Verd
Ze'bast Verd
Vyse de Valorous
@Varuun Rekaal
Kuben Woods
Valeria de la Vallée
Lyra Scarlet
Talohn Atar
Incitrix
Klavatora Verd
Aselia Verd

 

[Sidonia]

The desert port of Aeten II had never been meant for history.

It was a place for quiet transactions and forgotten ships, for deals struck beneath patched awnings while dust rolled in off the dunes and settled into everything. A place where transponders were “misread,” manifests were “misplaced,” and credits spoke louder than law.

Tonight, it held its breath.

From the upper balcony of the primary docking tower, Sidonia stood with her hands clasped behind her back, black-and-gold armor catching the muted glow of the port’s floodlights. Her longsword sat on her hip, ready for her command.

Below, the freighter of the Diarch’s Hand crouched on the landing pad like a carrion bird, its hull scarred, its insignia half-scraped away. Armed escorts moved in disciplined patterns as heavy crates were lowered onto repulsor lifts and guided toward the warehouses. They were efficient. Organized and confident.

“They chose the wrong horizon,” Sidonia said quietly.

Around her, Crimson Dawn operatives waited in the shadows of the tower interior; smugglers, enforcers, slicers, blades-for-hire who had sworn themselves to the syndicate’s rising banner. Some wore armor. Others wore civilian jackets and easy smiles. All of them understood what this moment meant.

Aeten II was beyond Mandalorian borders. No empire would claim it. No patrol would rush to defend it. That made it valuable.

“The Diarch’s Hand believes that defeat at Yaga Minor fractured authority,” she continued, her gaze never leaving the unloading crews below. “They are correct. What they misunderstand is who benefits from that fracture.”

A crate hit the ground too hard, metal clanging across the pad. One of the Hand’s overseers barked an order. Blaster rifles shifted on shoulders. The perimeter was tightening as more cargo cleared the hold.

Time was running out.

Sidonia finally turned to face her people. There was no raised voice, no theatrical flourish. Her authority lay in certainty.

“They intend to establish a corridor through this asteroid field. They intend to compete.”

A faint, humorless smile touched her lips.

“They will not.”

She stepped toward the railing, resting one gloved hand upon the cool metal as if already claiming it.

“Strike before they finish unloading. Disable their freighter. I want that ship intact if possible. Command figures are priority targets. Break their spine, and the rest will fold.”

Her eyes swept across the assembled operatives, measuring them not as subordinates but as instruments.

“Keep civilian casualties to zero. This port will be functional by morning. The merchants below will wake to a new protector, not a ruin. Suppress outgoing transmissions. No prolonged firefight. We end this before anyone beyond this field realizes it began.”

Down on the pad, another crate descended from the freighter’s cargo hold. Armed escorts shifted again, unaware of the eyes upon them.

Sidonia reached to her hip and clipped her buy’ce into place, the black visor sealing with a soft hiss. When she spoke again, her voice carried through the helmet’s modulator; calm, controlled, inevitable.

“Take their cargo. Take their officers. Offer the rest a choice. By sunrise, Aeten II belongs to Crimson Dawn.”

She stepped back into shadow, already moving toward the access lift that would carry her down to the level of sand and blasterfire.

“Move.”​

 

[Ashé Fenn]

Location:
Objectives:l: Participate with the Crimson Dawn
Tags: Sidonia

This was Ashé's first mission with Sidonia's Crimson Dawn, to intercept and defeat some smugglers, a simple enough premise but one with all manner of strands that reached out through the fates of various dimensions. There was a man, tall and with cropped hair that had chatted to her during the hyperspace trip. By his manner he had entertained the idea of her as a romantic paramore, he had complemented her hair, her eyes and even told her he found her detached demeanour "enchanting". It was a pity he would die today, she had known that before he let him take her. Perhaps that is why she had done it, perhaps she was bored, maybe she simply wanted to. Either way, it changed nothing and he entered this engagement not knowing he had sampled his very last pleasures.

Ashé half listened to Sidonia as she gave her speech but too much of her focus was now in path space, looking for hidden roots into their objectives, she intended to disable their ship, she foresaw one death in her near future, not by her own hands, but caused directly by her actions, exactly how was twisted to her which meant it was not yet written. "There" she said to herself as she found a narrow path, no thicker than a hair that wound its way into the engine room of the cargo vessel. But its ingress point was not here, it was a little distance beyond them, so she had her first objective.

She nodded to Sidonia . She knew things about her future too, but as with many of these things she had no inclination to share.

 

[Charlana]

Tag: Sidonia Ashé Fenn

Charlana had arrived early with some others, eager to answer the call and ingrain herself into the Dawn. She had been on her own long enough, and wished to find a place suitable for her needs, and wanting of her skills. Meeting this threat to the dominance of the Crimson Dawn along the space lanes was sure to get her established.

The nefarious smuggler stood idly some distance from the blue-haired Matriarch of Crimson Dawn. The elegant woman, in her immaculate armor and austere posture, was a far cry from the half-Sephi former pirate, clad in stained and tarnished mismatched armor and garments. Seldonia Veyl had presence, Charlana would give her that. Charlana sniffed, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand. The desert air made her air passages dry.

Pale blue eyes darted around at others, new to her. One caught her attention almost immediately. So pale she was literally white, with long braids like her own, but in a collection of white and black. The woman had a curious lack of color, and stunning features. But there was more to her. The woman's eyes focused on something beyond where they stood, even beyond the freighter below. Charlana felt it in the Force. The Umbaran was different than anyone she had come across. The Force adept couldn't put a finger on what it was, but it smacked of something most otherworldly. Intriuged, Charlana moved closer as the gathered operatives dissolved to cause their chaos. She was a former pirate and knew her way around a ship. She would make her way to the freighter. Perhaps the monochromatic stranger was as well.

 

[Colton Renth]

]​

The hyperdrive whined down to a simmer as the illegally modified YT-1300F Shadow Hawk slipped from hyperspace at the edge of the Yaga system. Captain Colton Renth leaned back in the pilot’s chair, boots resting on a console panel that had definitely never come standard from Corellian Engineering Corporation.

Tall, medium build, brown hair cropped short and a neatly kept horseshoe mustache framing a perpetual smirk, Colton looked more like a disgraced Republic officer than one of the Outer Rim’s most audacious smugglers. But that was the advantage. People underestimated him.

They rarely did so twice. The Yaga system still bore the scars of the recent Mandalorian victory at Yaga Minor. The Mandalorian Empire had shattered the region’s ruling structure — a fractured power network known as the Diarchy. One of its splinter syndicates, the Diarch’s Hand, had fled deeper into the system with what remained of their war chest.

Colton’s contacts said the Hand was transporting: Diarchy banking codes, Weapons, and Crates of contraband spice. The problem? Normally the Hand fielded gunships, escort fighters, and overlapping sensor nets.

The opportunity? They hadn’t rebuilt yet.

No perimeter mines.
No picket ships.
No overlapping scans.

The Shadow Hawk was technically a YT-1300F light freighter, but only on paper.

Compared to stock models, Colton’s ship had:

Reinforced ventral armor plating

Military-grade sensor scramblers

Twin quad laser cannons on independent rotation

A heavily modified hyperdrive with an illegal Class 0.75 override

Hidden smuggling compartments beneath the deck plating

The ship still carried the proud silhouette made famous by vessels of the same line — similar in make to the legendary freighters flown across the galaxy — but Colton’s was quieter, meaner, and built for surgical theft rather than flashy heroics.

He preferred it that way.

The Shadow Hawk powered down to near-silence as it drifted through the debris field. Broken station fragments and shattered hull plating gave perfect cover.

[

​

 

[Sidonia]

Sidonia did not miss much.

Not the subtle shift in posture as operatives dispersed. Not the way tension rolled through the group like the inhale before a blade struck. And certainly not the currents in the Force that prickled faintly at the edge of her awareness — thin threads tugging at possibility.

"There" she said to herself

Ashé's quiet murmur reached her even through the low wind that moved across the balcony. Sidonia's visor tilted slightly toward the pale woman.

"Take your path," she said evenly. There was no question in it, no need for explanation. "Engine room access. Cut power before they realize they are bleeding."

She stepped closer, her presence measured rather than imposing. "Whatever death you foresee, ensure it belongs to them." There was no cruelty in her tone. Only expectation.

As the operatives began filtering toward their assigned ingress points, Sidonia's gaze shifted to the half-Sephi pirate lingering near the edge of the assembly.

Charlana .

The woman's armor was mismatched, worn by experience rather than ceremony. Good. Those who had survived the fringes tended to understand what was at stake when territory shifted hands.

"You know freighters, I presume" Sidonia said without hesitation, stepping beside her so their attention remained on the ship below. "You know the blind corridors. The crew choke points. The panic patterns."

Her visor turned slightly, reflective black meeting pale blue.

"Board from starboard maintenance access. The rest is up to you what you’d like to do. The only thing you must keep in mind is: officers alive if possible.

Sidonia paused before continuing “You will be helping build the Dawn after this.” She did not wait for affirmation. Confidence, not encouragement, was the currency she offered.

Then, there was a flicker.

Her attention snapped outward, beyond the port, beyond the immediate perimeter of the asteroid field. A sensor blip ghosted across the edge of their tactical display; faint, careful, riding debris cover.

"Unidentified vessel entering from the Yaga vector. Minimal emissions. Likely modified light freighter. Do not broadcast challenge. I want a passive read."

Her mind moved quickly. A scavenger? A competitor? Or someone who believed chaos made for easy theft?

The Shadow Hawk drifted like a predator testing the edge of another's territory. Sidonia's voice flowed calmly across Crimson Dawn's encrypted comms. "We have a third party in the field. Unknown allegiance. Assume opportunistic intent."

Her head angled toward the freighter below where the Hand's men continued unloading crates, blissfully unaware that they were no longer the only hunters present.

"No one fires on the newcomer unless fired upon. If they move on the Hand's cargo, we intercept. If they move on us…"

A faint hum underlined her words as her gauntlet's systems activated.

"…we remind them this corridor is spoken for."

Territory was not claimed by ambition. It was claimed by the one willing to act first; and finish last.

Ashé Fenn Charlana Colton Renth

 

[Colton Renth]

Colton studied the tactical display. The Diarch's Hand cargo vessel drifted lazily near Yaga Minor's debris ring, its transponder broadcasting a weakened encryption signature.
"Cocky," he muttered. "Or desperate."
Either worked for him.
The plan was simple:

1. Drift in cold using passive thrusters.
2. Slice the cargo hauler's docking protocols.
3. Seal their communications array before they could signal reinforcements.
4. Extract high-value cargo only — no greed, no lingering.

Colton wasn't a pirate. Pirates stayed too long.
He was a professional.
The victory of the Mandalorian Empire had left the system in chaos. Warships still patrolled the outer lanes, and stray Mandalorian scouts hunted for surviving Diarchy loyalists.
If they caught him mid-heist, they wouldn't care who he worked for.
To them, he'd just be another opportunist feeding on the aftermath of conquest.
Colton grinned.
"Let 'em try."
The Shadow Hawk powered down to near-silence as it drifted through the debris field. Broken station fragments and shattered hull plating gave perfect cover.
The Diarch's Hand cargo ship loomed ahead — engines idling, shields at minimal power. Their arrogance was understandable. They had bigger enemies to fear.
They hadn't factored in Colton Renfth.
His fingers danced across the console as he began slicing their docking handshake.
"Just business," he murmured.
The docking clamps extended.
Green light.
The cargo was his.
Somewhere beyond the system's edge, Mandalorian patrol ships shifted formation.
But inside the shadows of Yaga Minor's wreckage, Captain Colton Renfth prepared to carve a fortune from the ruins of a shattered syndicate — silent, precise, and gone before anyone realized the galaxy had just become slightly poorer.
And he, considerably richer.

Sidonia

 

[Ashé Fenn]

Location:
Objectives:l: Participate with the Crimson Dawn
Tags: Sidonia Charlana Colton Renth

It begins. Ashé took a few steps and then began to pick her way lightly down the bluff towards the path, moving lightly and with grace in her black attire. Her consort followed her, a submachine gun in hand. She thought to tell him that she needed no protection for this, but she knew it would not deter him. Congress had made her his, and he would protect her. Silly man.

The umbaran was reaching the bottom of the slope now and felt her path self beckoning her forth. She was there, in a cloud of most she dissipated from the material realm only coalescing again in the darkened space of the engine room. It was cramped, it smelled like coaxium and body odour, not unlike many of the engine rooms she had entered in the Black Sun.

The planeswalker was alone but she knew it would not be for long, she knew what she had to find. She wouldnt destroy the ship, or even damage it, if it survived the firefight, it would be a valuable asset to, someone. She ran her fingers across the coaxium injector and popped open a panel. The lights briefly flickered as she removed a couple of circuit breakers and the ship switched to emergency batteries. The engines would not help them escape their defeat any more.

"3...2...1..."

"Oi! What are you doing in here!" a voice yelled at her from behind and she turned towards an older looking man holding a revolver.

"Funny, thing isn't it. You've come in here wondering about the lights, but now you are wondering how I got in here.

You are wondering if I know your gun isnt loaded, and now you are wondering how I know that?

Want to know how you die?...."

The man started shaking "Your one of them... witches? Right."

She just gave a coy shrug and ran her hands across the engine manifold leaving a trail of lingering smoke.

"Please let me tell you, its very soon."

"Fuck that, keep that Ichor crap to yourself they ain't paying me enough..." he hurriedly left the engine room and took flight down the corridor and onto the loading ramp.

"You! Where you going, back to your station!" one of the guards yelled.

"Nah, screw that... you can keep the cargo and your wit...." he didnt finish his sentence. As he turned to speak he misjudged the slippery edge of the loading ramp where the antislip matts had worn away. He spun as ge slipped and with a sickening crunch the side of his skull impacted one of the metal support struts of the vessel, cracking his skull and leaving him lying in a crumpled heap at its base with spittle collecting in his mouth.

Ashé casually placed the circuit boards into her coat and smiled while she planned her next move.