Dominion Ashes of a Fallen Empire [GA Dominion of The Ghost Nebula]

[Aiden Rennek]

​

The briefing replayed itself in Aiden's head like an unwanted song. Cortosis dust. Close quarters. Possible mechanized Imperial holdouts still deep in the shafts. Textbook worst-case scenario for infantry — narrow kill zones, no room to maneuver, and gear that could short if things got too hot.

He adjusted the seal on his borrowed suit for the third time, glancing over at his squad huddled near the supply crate. Hard-bitten veterans mostly, a few fresh faces with too much tension in their posture. He'd given the pep talk already — didn't believe in repeating things just to fill the silence.

Then he heard the music faintly over the local comms — H.A.W.K., because of course DJ was at it again. Aiden almost smirked. Until he heard the cough. He turned, half-expecting one of his Marines asking about the supply manifest, or Boxer making another sarcastic remark—

But it was her.

Ashley. In full kit, but with that signature storm in her eyes she always tried — and failed — to hide. Aiden's expression shifted just slightly when she spoke up — the kind of change you had to know him to catch. A little less rigid. A little more light in the eyes.

"Hey," he replied, voice low but easy.

A pause.

"You borrowing our gear again, or just miss me that much?" His tone was dry as ever, but the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth was the real thing.

He motioned with a gloved hand toward the mine entrance. "We're gearing up to move if the call comes. But we've got a minute." And then, for just a beat, he looked at her — really looked — like maybe, for once, the mission didn't have all of his attention.

"You good?"

Ashley Nevermore ​

 

[Connel Vanagor]

TO THE MINES
Obredaan
Mines

Michael, Gabriel, Azrael, Sariel, Raphael, Jeremiel, Seraphim
[Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]

Objective One: Obredaan, Fallen Industry (Jedi/GADF)

His armor flickered with sorcerous detail in the dim light. His helm—a silver death mask with pale blue eyes—seemed to watch without blinking. The voice from the holocall matched the real thing: distorted, growling even when calm.

The Force radiated off him like salt air—fluid, alive, and unconcealed. Omega didn’t flinch.
They didn’t raise weapons, but they shifted stances ever so slightly. Michael took one half-step to the right—establishing crossfire positioningThis positioning allows for a tactical advantage by enabling simultaneous fire from two directions, making it difficult for the opposition to respond effectively. It is a key strategy in military and law enforcement operations to control the battlefield and neutralize threats efficiently. .

Sariel’s scope gleamed in the back as he locked on the figure’s center mass—not pulling the trigger, but letting it be known Sariel’s steady aim sent a clear message: compliance was the only option. The figure may hesitate, weighing their next move, he may not, while the surrounding tension thickened but the message was clear nonetheless. They were as advertised.

Gabriel squinted. He'd already traced the way the Force seemed to coil around Alicio’s gear like it’s part of the fabric. Mind you, Gabriel is not attune to the Force, at all, but there was something about the way it hung off of the figure, much like it does Connel.

Azrael didn’t blink. He didn’t have to.

Jeremiel shifted closer almost as if looking for hostages, watching Alicio like a field medic studying a strange wound.

Only Connel moved forward. The two stood nearly eye to eye. Or in this case, mask to mask.

Connel tilted his head slightly, eyes behind his own mask narrowing beneath the helm. He didn’t draw a weapon. Didn’t speak at first. He just felt the Force moving through the air between them—like the tide pulling back before a wave.

Then he spoke, in a low, even, almost dead tone. You’re not Alliance. It wasn’t a question. But you’re not a liar.

He took one step around Alicio, scanning his gear, his cloak, the glint of metallic skin where armor gave way to whatever lie beneath. Finally turning to his teammates. He reads like a consultant… but walks like a ghost.

Cool and firm, Michael waited to speak. We don’t follow just because someone whispers in shadows. We follow if the shadows walk with purpose.

Gabriel with a half-smirk retorted. And yours is to be mysterious and dramatic? Or are we getting a name with that showmanship?

Look at you all trying to be funny!

Shut.up.

Jeremiel was gruff, quietly alert. Not aggressive. But… dense. Whatever you are, you’re not new to this.

Azrael was still grinning, eyes never leaving this lone figure. If you try to lead us into a deathtrap, just know—I'll be the one that gets to throw you into it.

Raphael just looked at Connel, not even hiding his curiosity. He’s too weird to be lying. I vote we listen.

Sariel over comms, from overwatch. [He’s marked no targets. Breathing steady. This isn’t a trick.Yet.]

Connel watched the lone “ghost” step past. Not even trying to stop him. Then turned to the team. He’s right about one thing: they expect us to hit the front. Which means we make our own door.

He stepped forward, following Alicio to the mouth of the cave again. Show us your shaft, but if you stab us in the back, we’ll shoot you in the face.

Beat.

Michael just let out a sigh. I’m never letting that phrasing go.

Alicio Organa • OPEN​

 

[Aris Noble]

Aris reached over towards one of the exposed veins himself, idly brushing over the metal within. Cortosis. It was toxic unrefined, as far as he was aware. There was a pause just before he touched it. No, that wasn't something he should test. Acid melted his skin where a Lightsaber couldn't, so would he be alright against a toxin?

Yeah, not worth testing if he could help it.

"Is that the general feeling here? It does look doom and gloom." He couldn't feel those lingering emotions, though. That was something he'd have to figure out another way to, at least so he could better read a room. Not that he'd ever been good at reading a room. He pulled his lightsaber, gently holding the hilt in one hand. Extinguished for the moment, but he could hear the sounds below. Heartbeats, tension. Some of fear, some calm.

Imperials and workers, most likely.

"They're pushing for as much as they can get. We'll have to be careful of civilians." He took a breath, marking out the heartbeats in his mind. Which was potentially civilian, which was solider. Once they laid eyes on them it'd be that much easier, but this way he could know where they all were.

"Ready."

Valery Noble

 

[Ashley Nevermore]

Phoenix Platoon
Tag: Aiden Rennek​

"Yeah, I just...wanted to chat. We've been beating around the bush long enough, figured it was time to come out and say it." She paused, looking back to Boxer who gave her a thumbs up.

She'd always had one weakness. One flaw she kept hidden.

She was awful with feelings. Always the tomboy trying to avoid chit like this.

"I think you're cute, and...I know it's against regulation, but...you wanna go out sometime? Ya know, go steady?"

She was glad that behind her helmet, he couldn't see that her face was beat red.

 

[Joseph Torson]

A S H E S_O F_A_F A L L E N_E M P I R E
Objective 3 : Raiding the War Chest

IMPERIAL CONFEDERATION
CADEMIMU V, OUTER RIM TERRITORIES

Spoiler: Gear

• Imperial Assault Blaster Carbine [1]
• NZ Modular Blaster-03P [2]
• 'Streiter' Vibroblade [1]
• Jūryoku 12 Repulsor Grenades [3]
• Konīde 10 Plasma Detonators [3]
• Tenebrae Commando Armor Mk. II [w/ Jetpack + Flight Attachment]

Spoiler: Accompanying Forces

• SpecNav Commandos [8/10]

While the Supreme Commander collected his thoughts on the Galactic Alliance's expansion into former Dark Imperial Space, Joseph Torson and a contingent of SpecNav Commandos stood guard around the Gunship that had been utilized to transport Sularen as previously instructed. The men were well aware of the possibility of Alliance Special Forces or even the Jedi barging in to disrupt Sularen's trip here, although given his status as Supreme Commander and member of the Confederation's Ruling Council, Torson was certain that the Alliance wouldn't dare touch Sularen, especially not when the Imperial Confederation and the Galactic Alliance were at peace.

Then she arrived. Out of know where a heavily armored individual crashed into the hangar with a heavy impact, sending a shockwave that briefly disoriented the Commandos which allowed her to quickly take out the two closest commandos to her, one by stabbing and another by quite literally freezing him and shattering them. Only then did Torson and the rest of the Commandos know who they were dealing with : a Jedi. "Jedi Intruder! Open fire!!!" Torson shouted as he and the other Commandos quickly raised their blasters and fired upon the Jedi, hoping to neutralize her before she could potentially go after Sularen himself.

Tags | Jonyna Si ​

 

[Ilaria Morvayne]

Chapter Two: A Mask of Death and Shadow

---

Ran Serys



The scent reached her before the sound did—an acrid blend of scorched stone and metallic residue, curdled faintly with the dry rot of machinery long since abandoned. The rebreather filtered most of the worst of it, but the underlying composition still registered, logged into her memory like an entry in a file.

Ash. Soot. Carbonized particulates.

Something had burned here. Something deep.

Ilaria adjusted her pace as she descended the final switchback of the connecting shaft. Her movements were deliberate, economical. Not slow, but measured—an art practiced by those who knew that haste was the luxury of the naive. She didn't speak as she moved. Didn't call out to Ran. Didn't even announce her approach. The Knight would notice her eventually. If she didn't, it would reveal more than words ever could.

The first sign of her presence came not through voice, but through shadow—the way her silhouette spilled down the sloped stone as she emerged from the tunnel mouth, outlined in the pale glow of the discolored cortosis clusters behind her. They hummed faintly, some unseen mineral or mineral-bound instability subtly responding to ambient energy. A detail worthy of attention. Later.

For now, she fixed her gaze on Ran.

Jedi Knight Ran Serys stood at the edge of a massive borehole carved into the heart of the chamber, the kind of excavation that suggested desperation more than design. The tools left scattered across the floor—large-bore drills, fused plasma torches, reinforced atmospheric gauges—hadn't been packed away. They'd been abandoned. Rapidly.

Fear, Ilaria thought.

Not the fear of soldiers, or even of engineers. This had the shape of containment. As if they'd dug too deep, discovered too much, and then fled before something could follow.

She approached in silence, her boots barely whispering across the stone until she came to a stop at a respectful distance, precisely three paces behind and to the left. A tactician's distance. Not so far as to offend, not so close as to presume.

"Knight Serys," she said at last, her tone calm, steady, and unmistakably neutral.

A respectful address. Polished. Controlled. The kind of greeting that gave no warmth, no familiarity, and no foothold for emotion.

She observed the other woman's posture. Slightly tense. Alert. Not unskilled—Ran's years of experience in war and peace alike had left their mark in the way she carried herself, in the unconscious weight of her attention. But she lacked refinement. Too open. Too reactive.

Too righteous.

"I received your transmission," Ilaria continued, stepping forward to examine one of the nearby cortosis clusters. "You asked if my entry point showed signs of contamination."

She reached toward the mineral vein, her fingers tracing the jagged growth but never making contact. Her gloved hand hovered mere centimeters from the surface. Observing. Studying.

"The discoloration is present there as well. Though the formations differ in configuration. Less radial, more erratic. Whatever's destabilizing the cortosis—be it a chemical imbalance, radiation exposure, or something else entirely—it seems to be distributed across multiple shafts."

She withdrew her hand and faced the borehole, joining Ran in examining its depths. The smell of soot was stronger here—palpable even through the rebreather. She narrowed her eyes.

"No visible bottom," she noted, more to herself than to Ran. "And the heat signature hasn't fully dissipated. Something below is still active."

She did not ask what Ran intended to do about it. She merely waited.

Silence lingered.

A beat too long.

Then she added, with the faintest tilt of her head, "You believe this site was closed deliberately. You're correct. And not simply due to contamination. There are spatial disruptions in the magnetic field—a ripple effect. The equipment in the auxiliary tunnel experienced minor instrument drift. Subtle, but measurable."

She paused.

Then turned, very slightly, just enough to allow her eyes to pass over Ran's face.

"You're not wrong to suspect something more than poor mineral yield," she added. "This mine wasn't abandoned. It was quarantined. The borehole wasn't drilled to extract ore. It was drilled to reach something the Dark Empire buried."

She didn't elaborate. She didn't need to. The implications hung in the air like the dust around them—unsettled, but watching.

And still, Ilaria kept her posture perfectly aligned. No visible emotion. No curiosity. No concern. Just the poised attentiveness of one who understood that knowledge was not a gift. It was a weapon. And sometimes, silence was sharper than any blade.

When it became clear Ran intended to remain at the edge of the borehole, perhaps to investigate further, Ilaria stepped slightly back.

"I defer to your judgment, Knight Serys," she said, her voice still perfectly even. "As mission lead, your call will determine our approach."

But the words, polite as they were, did not carry reverence.

They carried observation.

She wanted to see what Ran would choose.

Whether she would probe deeper.

Whether she would risk herself.

Whether she would falter.

Ilaria had no intention of stopping her. Not here. Not yet.

"I will remain at your side for the duration of your investigation," she added, taking up a position just off Ran's flank. "Unless you instruct otherwise."

Again, perfectly respectful.

And again, unmistakably distant.

She did not need to lead. Not now. Not when the greater value came from watching.

After all… it was always instructive to revisit the scene of old betrayals.

As she watched the Knight peer once more into the hole, Ilaria's expression remained neutral. But in the depths of her mind, another voice stirred, ancient and clinical. A voice that knew these mines not just as resources, but as opportunities.

 

[Jonyna Si]

​

TAG: Joseph Torson
Mention: Marlon Sularen

The Panther moved like a blur. Blaster bolts were deflected by what seemed like thin air, the invisible ghostfire blade reflecting a good majority of it right back at the troopers, two getting hit right in the chest, as The Panther raised a hand, tearing the helmet off the next victim, before slicing his head clean off. Slice, shift, attack. Another one, a telekinetic bolt sending him flying into a wall, before the wall itself swallowed him. Another, The Panther was a blur of movement, in the blink of an eye the invisible blade of the saber slipped between the shoulder plates, slicing right through the bodyglove and tearing the man's arm off.

It was ruthless, efficient, and a show of force.

Then they turned to the Captain, reaching out and exerting enough force on Joseph's blaster to crush it.

 

[Tyron Khan]

OBJECTIVE I - OBREDAAN: FALLEN EMPIRE

Tyron heard little replies from Galactic Alliance communications in what to do next with himself. The Besalisk made the decision to go off to the nearest Rebels outpost and assist them in every way possible. Heading out of the location where he caught up with Jedi Knight Aadihr Lidos the Padawan Learner believed the Rebel forces required more aid in the long-term of matters.

After some time journeying back to a nearby Rebel outpost and campsite. Tyron supported the injured and unprotected Rebels. They had to be evacuated from the planet surface and given proper medical treatment. He decided to take up the position of being a Pilot to fly from the planet surface and to the nearest medical station to help Rebel forces not endure further casualties on this battlefield.

Tyron continued performing flights and EVAC runs to aid the Rebels. Getting the sick and wounded to safety under the Galactic Alliance facilities made available for the Rebel forces. Until the battle was over.

~Exit Thread~​

Outfit: Clothes
Weapons: Double-Bladed Lightsabers
Saber Hilts: Guardian Hilt | Vanquisher Hilt
Master: Kaeleon Seleare | Kei Raxis
TAGS: None, Exiting Thread

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Lightsabers

Valery's eyes lingered on him a moment longer — not just measuring readiness, but something quieter. Pride, probably. A mother's pride. The way he held his saber. The way he listened. She didn't need him to feel the ghosts in the mine the way she did. He was seeing it his own way.

"Good," she said softly, then stepped closer, voice lowering to just above a whisper. "They're clustered near that main junction ahead. Two sentries. Three more deeper in, guarding a heavy emplacement. You're right — some of them are scared. Some… aren't."
With a flicker of the Force, the shadows around her shimmered — and then began to bend. Her presence faded like heat haze against the rocks, and then vanished altogether. "But they won't see me coming," her voice murmured from somewhere to his right — no longer tied to where she stood. Only the faintest stir of dust marked her last position.

"I'll move behind them. When I'm in position, draw their attention. Just get them looking your way." There was a pause, heavy with silent tension. Then her voice came again — faint, almost playful through the comlink.

"Let's spring the trap."

And then she was gone, just another ghost in the mine.

Aris Noble ​

 

[Antipater]

CADEMIMU V - CONTROL BUNKER
WAR CHASSIS​

Antipater was lifted clear off his feet, flung back several meters. He crashed into an innocent control station, shattering what looked to be an important viewscreen, before falling face-first back onto the ground with a heavy klunk.

Aggravating. By now his systems were finished recycling and he began to rise again to his feet. The concussion rifle had been misplaced in transit, and the opposite end of the control room was now obscured with a thick cloud of smoke.

An on-board railgun extruded from his forearm. "Watch out."

He aimed at the left of the cloud and opened fire, spraying a short hail bullets in a horizontal line until he had covered the whole width. Antipater started to advance again, heedless of the smoke. There was no elegance to it. Heavy, plodding footsteps signaled his approach.

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Alicio Organa]

Obredaan, Classified Location
Objective 1
- Connel Vanagor -
​

A non-zero amount of Omega Squad wanted to shoot him and be done with it.

Now that was funny. He fought to keep his shoulders from bobbing with silent laughter, imagining the scenario. Oh, the paperwork they would have to file.

You’re not Alliance. But you’re not a liar.

//So sure, are we?// Again, there was the unmistakable shimmer of humor to his words, unable to be completely repressed by the modulator. Whether he was talking about Connel's first or second statement... was up to interpretation.

Most of the squad's chatter, he let roll off him, ignoring their questions of his identity, and their back-and-forth about his trustworthiness. He only responded to the smiling soldier. //If this is a death trap, I assure you it isn't mine. But this Remnant are aware that Alliance Special Forces are operating on the planet. I would be truly surprised if they didn't prepare something creative for you.//

He quietly led the way, making sure to keep earth between himself and the mine's front entrance. He indeed moved like a ghost, his footsteps light and smooth under his cloak, making him appear to almost glide across the ground. He fastened the multicolored cloth around him- and his vitals all but disappeared from Sariel's scopes.

He stopped at what appeared to be a thin pillar of stone, rising to waist-height. At it's top was a grate, colored to look like rock, wide enough for a man and a half. It reached down, down, down into the darkness. with no end in sight.

//I haven't been down there,// the figure stated, extending a hand over the grate. With some effort, the metal bent up, before dislodging itself from the hole. He gently placed it down beside the vent. //Everything beyond this point is new. All I can say for certain is that we won't be in immediate danger when we breach.//

//I specialize is Force-assisted stealth, precognition, and lightsaber combat. And I am at your disposal, Shadow. Direct me as you see fit.//

 

[Aris Noble]

So he was to be the distraction? Aris nodded once. It made sense, given just how large he'd gotten now. Hiding away wasn't easy outside of Niv Hani and other such places built with taller folk in mind. Or he just hadn't properly learned how yet. Sneaking around wasn't something that had interested him though, so he doubted he ever would.

He glanced after where his mother had disappeared before letting a smile, small and brief as it was, form. It spoke volumes she trusted him this much. He wasn't about to let her down. He turned, heading deeper into the mine. Right towards the group below. As he'd expected, soldiers and miners mixed. Stormtroopers at that. A blaster revved to life, pointing right towards Aris as he approached.

"Halt!"

An order that Aris ignored as he continued to walk forward.

"Halt or I'll open fire!"

More eyes had shifted to him. A gasp sounded from one of the miners before another trooper seemed to notice the same thing. The lightsaber in his hand.

"Jedi! Blast em!"

The panic spread like wildfire as more rifles pointed towards the now towering Jedi threat. They opened fire, but Aris's saber snapped to life. He didn't move closer, rather once he was in an ideal position he moved with purpose. Each shot towards him was either let past by or purposefully sent into the ground, ceiling, or walls. He didn't risk sending them back towards the soldiers, towards the miners.

Mom would make sure they were taken out.

Valery Noble

 

[Connel Vanagor]

TO THE MINES
Obredaan
Mines

Michael, Gabriel, Azrael, Sariel, Raphael, Jeremiel, Seraphim
[Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]

Objective One: Obredaan, Fallen Industry (Jedi/GADF)

Quietly they approached this grate, and this lone “agent” suddenly lacked knowledge of anything else. He knew about the pressure mines, he knew about this grate. Yet everything else? If this were a report, it would be clear that he left out that he tried to effect entry himself and failed horribly.

Gabriel…

The team tech pulled out two glow sticks, snapped them and dropped the glowing simple devices down the shaft. There were several laser trip wires. The glow sticks illuminated the shaft, revealing the intricate web of laser beams crisscrossing the narrow passage. The team carefully prepped as Gabriel shook his head. Of course.

What?

Raphael, looking down the shaft sighed. Tripwires.

Michael pulled his rappelling hook and line out of his belt, he was the Team Leader, but also the Pathfinder. This was his show, normally…

Michael took his mirror devices.

I got this.

If this is a trap… I’d rather be down there and you guys come in hot.

Then send our “benevolent Guardian” here… Sariel didn’t care about his wording. He had a bad feeling in his gut about this guy. So did Connel, but for a different reason as he shook his head.

He’s hiding something big from us, but I don’t think it’s this. He looked around at all of them. You don’t have to trust him... but trust me. As he hooked onto the grate, they all seemed to be okay with it. Raphael and Sariel cut open the bars as Connel slowly lowered himself in.

Azrael took that moment to slip next to the “individual”. They haven’t figured it out yet… and I’m surprised Connel doesn’t know… but I know who you are… and I don’t care… we’re people… not assets… Does he know the truth? Probably not… but he was good with intel gathering.

Connel was in the shaft, slowly lowering and stopping before each trip wire. With each stop, he set up a “mirror stand” to catch the other side of the tripwire and effectively cut the line without cutting it. “The agent” may be capable in Force Stealth, but he had his own strength in the same, as well as Special Forces Training.

Slowly he reached the ground to see a LONG tunnel. Calmly unclipping his rappelling line and hook, putting it on the ground, Connel unslung his Lightcarbine and raised his freehand upward so that the rest of the team would see it was clear to lower down.

Michael just looked at the agent.

You’re next.

Alicio Organa • OPEN​

 

[Vaegon Dolmyrian]

Objective Three
Cademimu V
Open

The blast door groaned open with a sound like a dying breath, metal warping against itself as the cutting torches finished their work. Heat rolled out in waves, stale and choked with the scent of scorched insulation, burned lubricant, and rust. The air within was heavier, more electric. The Force pressed inward like water down a narrowing funnel. Vaegon was the first to step through.

The hallway beyond was tight, dark, and studded with industrial ribbing and bundled power lines. Flickering emergency lights pulsed low and red, rhythmically, like the heartbeat of a dying animal. They followed the corridor deeper, weapons ready, boots clanging softly on grated floors.

And then movement.

The corridor ahead erupted with sudden light as a half-dozen figures burst from cover: stormtroopers, clad in scorched and mismatched armor, marked not with unit insignias but painted kill-tallies and improvised sigils. They opened fire without hesitation, blaster bolts screamed through the corridor, red lances flashing against the steel walls.

"Ambush!" one of the engineers shouted, diving behind a fusion coil.

The Alliance troopers scattered, taking cover and returning fire. But even in the chaos, Vaegon did not draw his blade immediately. He stepped forward into the center of the corridor, his presence unnervingly still. The first bolt screamed toward his chest.

The lightsaber ignited with a hiss of icy bue.

The shot never reached him.

In one fluid motion, Vaegon deflected the bolt into the ceiling. The next two were deflected harmlessly to the floor. Then he moved not in violence, but in precise, surgical control. His blade arced out, not toward flesh, but toward weapons, slicing barrels, melting stocks, shearing the power packs from rifles. Sparks flew. One stormtrooper staggered back, weaponless. Another reached for a sidearm only to find it disassembled in his hands by a spinning sweep of blue light.

Vaegon did not speak. He let the sound of metal hitting the floor, the failure of their last defense, speak for him.

Within seconds, the stormtroopers were disarmed and staggering, clutching smoking fragments. No blood. No death. Just the humiliation of survival.

One of them lunged, wild and desperate, swinging the butt of a cracked rifle. Vaegon caught the blow with a single hand, pivoted, and sent the soldier crashing to the ground with the force of redirected momentum. He never struck. He never killed.

And yet none of them dared rise again.

He stood among them, saber humming at his side, eyes calm but unflinching. Around him, the Alliance forces emerged cautiously, lowering weapons as they realized the threat was over. Some looked at Vaegon with awe.

Others with unease.

"They weren't defending the silos," Vaegon said quietly. "They were guarding the memory of something."

He deactivated his blade, letting the silence reclaim the corridor.

"Bind them. No executions. This place has bled enough."

They would need to deactivate the silos, and soon.