Battlegrounds | CIS Dominion of Ord Padron

[Ascendant Muse]

O R D​

P A D R O N​

The Crucible was on the move.

More often than not, the movements of the great Galactic powers would be cause for pause. When their borders swelled, such creatures as the Crucible would slink deeper into the shadows; hiding themselves and their practices as best they could. Yet, the climate as of late had been different. The greatest forces in the Galaxy did not just move to expand their borders - they moved to fight one another. Their armies and navies were expended in their perpetual clash of ideals, leaving the Crucible free to rise from the depths. As the larger nations raged against one another did the cold lash of slavery persist. As the Great War began, so too did their ambitions.

Ord Padron had become their next target.

Centuries ago, the world had served as a hub for military might. A forward base had been erected, one that served the old Confederacy and subsequent New Republic decades later. While modest in comparison to true Fortress Worlds, what the regional deposit lacked in overwhelming personnel, it more than made up for in terms of supplies. In particular, an ancient stockpile of Defoliators had been abandoned here at the close of the Clone Wars. With these in hand, the Crucible felt confident in staring down the opponents of slavery in the modern galaxy - for a single shell could burn away organics with ease. Thus, armed with their deterrent, the Crucible dug their heels into Ord Padron.

They laid a full claim to the world's forward operating base. They erected a full suite of defenses - from automated turrets to facility shields. They hired a Garrison of forces to keep control, maintaining over a squadron of fighters and a solid force of ground troops. They thought themselves free of challenges - but the Confederacy would not stand for oppression in their literal backyard. Backed by her allies, a task force had been dispatched to the regional deposit to put down this threat once and for all. The Crucible would break this day - as would their hold on such a vicious deterrent.

Above, the capital ships began to revert into Realspace...

Spoiler: Tag

[member="AceReplica"], [member="Aedan Miles"], [member="AJ Cean"], [member="Akabane"] Jarvik, @Alden Kyr'nau, [member="Aleksander Miles"], [member="Alistair Myre"], [member="Alyva Terrix"], [member="Anastasia Verd"], [member="Aoker Veru"], [member="Arabella Darkhold"], [member="Arken Lussk"], [member="Arlox"], [member="Arthur Pendragon"], [member="Ash"], [member="Aurelio Ilyin"], @Aux-X, [member="Averin An'Arach"], [member="Avo"], [member="Aya Clarke"], [member="Azrik"], [member="B1-990"], [member="Ballen-Ist"], [member="Bartic Myth'rand"], [member="BBZ-20"], [member="Ben Mentel"], [member="BX-22222"], [member="BX-24601"], [member="BX-25233"], [member="BX-72967"], [member="BX-73300"], [member="BX-75244"], [member="Cairyn Midore"], [member="Cato Marek"], [member="Causstik Rahn"], [member="Chalim Vern"], @Charr, [member="Chek Zun"], [member="Chikako Liona"], [member="Dalton Kenway"], @Darth Iskios, [member="Darth Rixas"], [member="Darth Seraphic"], [member="Daxton Bane"], [member="DE-16"], [member="Derek Dib"], [member="Dinah Vekarr"], [member="Duidatos"], [member="Ellion Corsair"], [member="Er'in Tenel"], [member="Ethan Williams"], [member="Faa Vera"], [member="Galven Hansol"], [member="Gorm"], [member="Hades Dai"], [member="Helix Syndicate"], [member="Ignis Imura"], [member="Iris Issey"], [member="Jack Anderson"], @Jasmine Zittoun, [member="Jaya Tandris"], [member="Jia Darkhold"], @Kaiya Halcyon, [member="Kal Jaii"], [member="Kal Kandossii"], [member="Kalee Bladesworn"], [member="Katarine Ryiah"], [member="Katria Vekarr"], [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"], [member="Keric Dynt"], [member="Ket Van-Derveld"], [member="Khonsu Amon"], [member="Kilia"], [member="Koda Fett"], [member="Kurayami Bloodborn"], [member="Kurenai Yumi"], [member="Lady Psyona"], [member="Lanna"], [member="Lewis"], [member="Lola An'Arach"], [member="Luna Terrik"], [member="Lyla Quinn"], [member="Marcus Collier"], [member="Marcus Lund"], [member="Marek Starchaser"], [member="Maxerian Gron"], [member="Miki Starfallen"], [member="Mirvak"], [member="Morgan Redeaux"], [member="Muad Dib"], [member="Mythira"], [member="Nasho Vesh"], [member="Nassier Zirfae"], [member="Natalie LaForte"], [member="Natasha Darkstar"], [member="Nayru Wyndaru"], [member="Nilia Saavilin"], [member="Noviac Caligo"], [member="Nyx"], [member="Orion Trex"], [member="Paige Blossom"], [member="Prime"], [member="R4N-JR"], [member="Rale Elysar"], [member="Rapax"], [member="Rashae"], [member="Rosaline Rousseau"], @Ryvan Tau'rae, [member="Saine Kela"], [member="Samantha Jade"], [member="Seela Tarkona"], [member="Ser Burton Shaw"], [member="Sila"], [member="Siqa"] Verd, [member="Sko'saht"], [member="Sokar Azad"], [member="Srina Talon"], [member="Talbot Vitalis"], [member="Tamar M'Raki"], [member="The Fallen"], [member="The Slave"], [member="Tiberius Royalblaze"], [member="Titan"], [member="Tmoxin Temi"], [member="Valis Marr"], [member="Valjan Hon'rey"], [member="Varik Ice"], [member="Verd Skirata"], [member="Vinten Veers"], [member="Vladimir Tedesky"], [member="Vuh'kis"], [member="Werah Unon"], @Xeno Wran, [member="Yuna Hart"], [member="Zenva Vrotoa"], [member="Zephyr Carrick"]

[member="Varik Ice"], [member="Coren Starchaser"], [member="Aryn Teth"], [member="Jorus Merrill"], [member="Valae Kitra"], [member="Stephanie Swail"]

 

[Malok]

En Route to Surface

Elbow room was an illusion.

Although, typically, the Scimitar-class Star Courier had room a plenty, the Vicelord was pushing the limits of its capacity. For the day's operation, he had seen fit to ferry as many of his Dark Acolytes as possible - personally - to the planet's surface. As such, this many bodies within the sleek, stealth ship had made the journey more than cramped...but the utility of a cloaked entrance was just too valuable to deny. Thus, the Scimitar dipped out of Hyperspace alongside the Confederate Armada before breaking away momentarily. With but a press of a button, the vessel's cloak raised and a swift descent was made towards the planet's surface.

As it sliced through the heavens, Darth Metus took a moment to brief his Acolytes.

"As a refresher," he began, turning his head back so that his gaze could fall upon them. "Our primary objective is securing the Defoliator stockpile. The main force will see to the silencing of the Crucible - we have to make certain these weapons do not make it off world, into enemy hands."

He then motioned with his thumb, indicating the navigational display to his right. "They won't see us coming in, so we're doing a hot drop right onto their heads. The second our boots hit the ground, we get inside the facility. Drop is in sixty seconds, if you've got questions now's the Time."

Spoiler

[member="Srina Talon"], [member="Er'in Tenel"], [member="Akabane"], [member="Darth Atrox"], [member="Darth Malus"], [member="Mirvak"], [member="The Fallen"], [member="Katria Vekarr"], [member="Kurenai Yumi"], [member="Kilia"], [member="Nyx"], [member="Natasha Darkstar"]

 

[Dalton Kenway]

Confederacy Starship
Above Ord Padron


Dalton Kenway clocked the stars dissolving back to their usual state as the Confederacy forces emerged from hyperspace, ready to liberate Ord Padron not just to preserve their stability, but also preserve that of the people themselves. He nodded and turned from the viewport on the cruiser he was on, standing on the bridge.

"Perfect timing. I guess we wait for orders now."

His dark eyes looked out and he nodded to himself. While he was in no position to command or lead, as this was his second major mission serving the Confederacy, his motives were and his intention was clear. Repel these...Crucible sorts. Dalton walked across to the holo-display of the planet and tucked his hands into his belt on the Corellian emerald green outfit he wore.

"Open communication so we at least know of [member="Darth Metus"] and his Acolytes. Look. There." He pointed to a blip on the radar. "That's them. I presume they're going to get through the back door and then, well, we can follow? Sometimes the Force can only do much against slavers. Sometimes you need good old fashioned blood, sweat and blasters to drum the message home."

Hopefully he would get out of the ship down the surface as the units launched where he could be of use.

[member="Srina Talon"] et al CIS

 

[Darth Metus]

The Masters were finally pleased.

In the weeks following the failure of Shimia, those few above were swift to punish. They had stripped Gath of his rank and power, relegating their champion to the lowest of duties. Where once he commanded armies in their name, now he stood as a servant. He, a commander worthy of their adoration, was laid so low as to enforce the likes of a Hutt! It took all the fortitude within Gath's being not to strangle the slithering mongrel over the course of his sentence. However. His agony did not last for too long - as opportunity reared its beautiful head. The greatest clash in modern history was beginning, and as such the Masters were keen on seizing the moment.

They afforded Gath a single opportunity to rectify his previous failure, by capturing and maintaining a far-flung regional deposit in their name. For this task, he would be afforded all the forces and funds required to hold down the forward base - and its stockpile. Success would mean restoration. Failure would have meant his demise. Yet, as he stood before the precipice of his victory, a satisfied grin formed upon his features. The Masters were finally pleased: the forward base, and all of its might, were theirs to command. Finally, Gath was free - to command and to plunder. Finally, the sting of his failure had ebbed away.

Before his Amber eyes, the holographic projection of his superiors quickly faded from view. With their meeting concluded, the time was nigh to take stock of his position. Long, thunderous strodes bore the warrior's massive form towards the command center of the facility. "How are we looking?" came his booming inquiry. A pair of trandoshans looked up from their respective consoles, answering immediately:

"The installations are complete - our anti-air turrets are online and functioning."

"Troops have settled in. First watch is on patrol now."

"Anything on sensors?"

"Skies are clear. Nothing but the occasional buzzard."

"Excellent."

Little did they know that their sensors did not stretch into the upper atmosphere and beyond.

3/12

 

[Daxton Bane]

Typical of Daxton, the Dark Lord was already in motion way ahead of the strike team. Laying ground so to speak, Daxton and his team of Dark Acolytes had been on the ground six weeks prior, mapping out defenses, gathering intel and planting seeds of sabotage and destabilization in their wake.

In fact, as soon as they would receive a coded burst transmission from [member="Darth Metus"] that the attack was commencing, they would trigger a series of explosions which would take out the power grid for at least an hour, throwing the ground forces in chaos in which Daxton could operate in the shadows.

The plan was for each of the acolytes to eliminate a list of targets once the lights went out. How and where they accomplished that was at their discretion but failure was not an option. In fact, Daxton had a list as well top on that list was the local militia commander, a quite capable man who if left alone could potentially rally defenders efficiently enough to cause problems. The Sith was going to make sure that scenario would never come to pass.

 

[Ak'lya]

The storm was brewing. She knew this, and she could sense the growing tension on the ship. They were here to remove the Crucible from the system, secure it, and make sure the stockpile of Defoliators never made it to the front lines. Securing, not removing. She had seen the statistics on these weapons, what they did to people, how devastating even a single strike could be. She shuddered at the idea of what would happen if the Crucible used them, especially on a civilian center. Even in the cramped warmth of the Scimitar-class, she shuttered. Would they do the same to their enemies? Would those under the Empire's yoke feel its wrath? She hoped not.

As the Vicelord spoke, she studied him. This was who she had chosen to follow, and who she had sworn herself to. Part of her wished that she could read him better. Maybe she hadn't had the time to learn him yet.Or maybe she simply wasn't really good at that sort of thing. Shaking her head, she caught the A.I. snapping at her to run the last check. Rifle, pistol, needler, ammo clips, spare rounds for the master key, X-Calq. She had everything she needed. Maybe more, but rather that than need more and not have it. Part of her wondered if she'd end up facing the titan from Shimia. Though his name escaped her, his face... It echoed in her nightmares. Someone beyond her. Someone she couldn't stand against.

She wasn't a warrior, a soldier. She was an agent, and she had to win on intelligence alone. She hoped she could do that.

[member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Daxton Bane"]​

 

[Katrine Van-Derveld]

Objective: Liberate Ord Padron, Kill [member=Gath]
Post: 1
Tag: [member="Fawn Alzi"], [member="Darth Metus"], [member="Dalton Kenway"], [member="Natasha Darkstar"] @Mandragora welcome to join Kat's ship

It's Goin' Down​

The Crisom Shadow jumped out of hyperspace with the other ship, taking in the view of the planet, before she took in the ships around her. Music was playing in one of the sleeping quarters though she wasn't sure just which one anymore, though the sound suited her, her hands focused on piloting. "Won't be long now," she said out loud as she kept pace with the rest. There wasn't much she could do from here and the skies seemed mostly filled with good company rather than enemies.

Her fingers itched to cast, she realized. There was a growing hunger inside her for magic, she slowly began to realize. Something had been growing inside her for days now, Katrine felt it. A Force, a power. Her body had been marked though she didn't know exactly for yet. Things were slowly beginning to add up even if she couldn't quite grasp the full meaning of what was happening. On Rodia, the spirits joined her in a strong chant; on Ryloth, the spirits trapped inside the ichor had reflected their pain onto her and she had walked in, her skin absorbing traces of the smoke and her lightsaber taking in its power. Now, she was wanted to use that magic as it danced around her, calling her, tempting her. Magic required magic same as blood required blood.

And today, she would have one and perhaps even the other.

 

[Fawn Alzi]

Post: 1
Location: Crimson Shadow (Kat's ship)

Having woken up from her nap, Fawn was bobbing her head to the music, though it wasn't her own. She was slowly making her way up to the front of the ship where [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"] was piloting, rubbing her forehead as she tried waking herself up.

Truthfully, she didn't have the best idea of what she would be doing once they landed on Ord Padron. She had been told (more than once) and yet it always seemed to slip her mind. There was someone named... Nath? Jath? And something to do with slaves. Her lack of attention would be her downfall one day, but until then, she was perfectly fine to keep winging it.

........Gath, that was it.

What was bearing more heavily on her mind was the idea of the battle itself, and not necessarily in a good way. She was always a violent person, it was in her nature, and yet even as the excitement of inflicting her frustrations and anger on others, she was also a survivalist. Thankfully, she had become just as much of an expert on inflicting pain as she was fleeing to preserve her own life. Lylek's blessing, as skeptical as she may have been about receiving it, certainly didn't hurt...

 

[Darth Atrox]

ORD PADRON​

The Sith Lord was aboard the cramped stealth vessel, and a scowl was noticeable beneath the heavy hood which draped across his features. He wore a standard cloak; black and obscuring his entire body (bar below his mid-shins) from prying eyes. Beneath this cloak was yet another set of robes; barely crimson and disguising his lightsaber which was nestled somewhere upon his waist. Disgruntled was not the word to describe his emotions toward being entombed within this overfilled freighter, where even with the advanced air systems he could taste the breath of his nearest comrade. Karak shuddered with disgust, and he could detect a trickle of sweat cascading down his neck, and discrete pools congregated beneath his armpits.

The Sith Lord listened politely to the Vicelord, and simply shook his head when he indicated that now was the time for questions. It would still take adjustment for Darth Atrox to truly embrace Confederacy life - he was used to leading assaults with the main forces, battering down fortifications and slaying armies, leaving death and destruction in his wake. It appeared that this new chapter of his life would reveal a more muted style for the darksider. However, should any unfortunate Crucible soul stumble into his path, the Zabrak would take pleasure in severing their bodies asunder. A crude smirk played upon his lips at this thought.

In a swift yet deliberate movement, the Sith Lord tapped into the Force and telekinetically unclipped his weapon from her holster and pushed it down the sleeve of his cloak until it fell with a warming touch into his outstretched palm. Then, he would await his commands to liberate the weapons from enemy hands. Atrox flicked back his hood slightly, revealing a pair of fiery eyes, tainted by decades of immersion in the Dark Side.

 

[Jessica Med-Beq]

Location: Trandosha -> Ord Pardron
Allies: CIS
Enemies: Slavers

For far too long has she been away from a battlefield away from SJ-land. The Metharian Nebula, Anzat were two big missed opportunities to fight, where the prerogative of keeping the home territories of the Silver Jedi safe had to take over. The time has come for her to board the Doppelganger-class stealth transport, laden with the Xi Charrian marines, artillery and other regulars, hoping to get a distraction for the Confederates to fit inside the facilities. It was a bit tight fitting in so many Xi Charrians on the roofs of tanks, not to mention the regulars; however, it was her chance to atone for the Stalgasin Memorial Stadium rally fiasco, from her time in the [Third] Confederacy's Senate. The Light was in dire straits, after the events of the Metharian Nebula and of Thyferra, even though she knew that there were dark-siders among the ORC and the [Fourth] CIS, just that she had to do something. A stealth insertion would give them the benefit of surprise. She had to brief her troops before they even revert to realspace, much less on the Ord Pardron desert. Hopefully the Xi Charrians will understand Basic; they are the ones with the heavy weapons, she thought, while realizing that she could understand Xi Charrian but using the Force for that purpose required more computational power than understanding and speaking a language she could understand without the Force. To add to the injury, she just couldn't speak it, other than by telepathic means.

"Once we make our landing in the desert, dig in, protect our artillery emplacements, position the artillery hull down, and possibly turret-down if possible. Again, as is usual these days, weapons tight"

Spoiler: Order of battle

Infantry:

70 Xi Charrian marines
200 SJ Regulars

Artillery:

4 Bengal KV-01 main battle tanks
6 Hwacha MLRS

 

[Malok]

Silence ruled the vessel's interior.

This was to be expected. Those who had gathered together under his direct leadership were among the best. They operated with peak efficiency to ensure the survival of their budding Confederacy. And today, they would ensure that none of their own would feel the sting of a Defoliator's wrath
..nor would the Crucible have a foothold within their backyard. As the sixty seconds lulled to a close, the Sith Lord turned his full attention back to the controls of the ship. Manually, he guided the vessel in a low and slow approach - consistent with landing upon any landing pad or tarmac. From here, the bays were opened: doors on either side slid to give way to the air and the rearmost cargo bay lowered. The drop was only a handful of feet at this point, low enough that a sloppy tuck and roll would see even a novice to the ground safely.

[member="Daxton Bane"], now!

The telepathic command erupted from the Sith's psyche, alive with urgency. This signal alone would prompt the Zabrak into action, and this would provide the Acolytes precious time to land without any true difficulties. Furthermore, from the information provided beforehand, their target was the westernmost Depot. This one appeared almost as a warehouse, with mammoth stone walls and few windows. They had a variety of options for breaching the facility - from slicing the door to busting in the front door. And, frankly, anything would work - Darth Metus trusted the methods of his team.

What mattered was getting in, securing the Defoliators, and getting out.

And by his signal would the Acolytes begin to jump out of the Scimitar and commence the operation. As for the Sith, once the lights went down, his crimson saber would ignite within his grasp. They only had a few precious moments before the enemies noticed their presence - they had to make the most of it.

"Let's move!"

Spoiler

[member="Darth Atrox"], [member="Daxton Bane"], [member="Natasha Darkstar"], [member="Kilia"], [member="Nyx"], [member="Akabane"], [member="Mirvak"], [member="Darth Malus"], [member="The Fallen"], [member="Katria Vekarr"], [member="Kurenai Yumi"]

4/12

 

[Marek Starchaser]

What in the hell was going on? He felt the ship revert to real space. Even as probably the worst example of the Starchaser clan, he knew what that feeling was. Opening his eyes, he looked around. Where the frak? Last he remembered he was out on Nar Shaddaa. And now he was here? There was a redhead. Where was his busty redhead? Sighing and rolling his eyes, Marek Starchaser stretched out as a medical droid approached him.

“I’m fine, droid. Water. Pills. Maybe tequila if you have it. Hair of the dog.” He sat up and dropped his head into his hands as he stared at the floor. The ship was moving. Like spinning. Why was it spinning.

“What frakking vessel am I on and who do I need to fire to clean up the approach. Hell, where am I?” He was not in a good mood. "And food. I need food. What ship am i on?"

The medical droid was going to ignore him alright. Straight up ignore him until he passed out somewhere. The droid had his orders. Probably even came from [member="Darth Metus"]. The droid really hoped the man would leave.

 

[Eugen Aker]

Location: Pantera-class Stealth Frigate Nightshade

A single Kiribian frigate attached to the Silver Spacy warped overhead Ord Padron with the first waves of CIS ships. Though there was only the single frigate under Jyoti's command, with an entire brigade at her disposal, the force more more than enough to help lock down the depot and repurposed FOB now in Crucible hands.

Down in the hangar of her flagship, Jyoti was kitted up in Shadow Armor and ready to drop planetside with her contingent of fellow Shadows and Berserkers, but first she wanted to soften up the ground opposition and thin out their air force before hitting the ground to neutralize the Crucible.

"Begin jamming the base and launch ECM drones. Jade Leader, deploy Jade Squadron for SEAD."

Once Jade Squadron and the CIS landing parties created a nice big distraction, she would drop in with a small fleet of stealth dropships.

[member="Cassius Droma"] [member="Liuna Ondizi"] [member="Jessica Med-Beq"] [member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Skorvek]

He picked a corner part of the ship where he could prepare himself as he listened to [member="Darth Metus"]'s briefing he only came along to not only get some of the weapon shipments after this place is cleansed but this would probably be the spark of a friendship between the eye and CIS, While Ideology wise it they do not mesh they have other goals that they can benefit each other with other then simple ideology clashes. He looked over at the others that where with him in comparison some of these people where children in comparison but he was here for other reasons, He stood up his head nearly hitting the ceiling one of the curses of being as tall as he is he had sheathed one of his Curved blades as he waited for the signal to drop.


When he heard the drop signal he decided to travel with Metus because he found Metus at the moment the most capable he knew little about his acolytes or there capabilities and how reliable they are. He jumped down with Metus and when he landed it was dark to everyone else but to him he used the force to see clearly as his eyes glowed there eerie color as he unsheathed his blade and muttered something in ancient Anubian as he summoned 3 phantom versions of himself that to anyone else but his allies looked simply as if there was 4 of him instead of one, Normally illusions wouldn't be capable of doing anything physical but these phantoms can do everything he can do which was the beauty of its power that he enjoyed but for now he simply stayed with Metus as they traveled.

[member="Srina Talon"], @Er'in Tenel, @Akabane, @Darth Atrox, @Darth Malus, @Mirvak, [member="The Fallen"], @Katria Vekarr, @Kurenai Yumi, [member="Natasha Darkstar"]


1/12

 

[Kurayami Bloodborn]

Another message from [member="Darth Metus"] and a chance to test out one of two ships, either the Hartmann class interceptor or the Scimitar class crusier he had been gifted by Metus. There were intel reports coming in that there was a garrison of troops, at least a squadron of fighters at the ready, multiple automated defensive emplacements, as well as multiple well shielded facilities. Though the interceptor only had two weapons emplacements, the fact that they were able to match the power of four standard laser cannons apiece made the fighter far more dangerous than one would have expected without mounting anything else. The craft could go from dogfighting to ground support and back in little time. It would be a large boon to those who may run into ground emplacements that got them pinned.

With the choice more than obvious by this point, he climbed into the interceptor and set course for Ord Padron. A few hours in hyperspace and he would be there. During the jump he let himself fall into a meditative state, holding the ring on the chain around his neck in a loose grasp. While doing so his thoughts drifted back to the time spent with those whom he had lost along the way. Either simply lost contact with or in a more permanent way. This time it was not sadness that he felt, nor was it a sense of calm...it was simply remembrance. It gave him the determination to do what had to be done and go home. After a time he let go of the ring, it resting against his flight jacket as he took a long pull from his flask as he reverted to realspace. Opening an encrypted channel to the rest of the CIS forces he sent out a quick message.

"Yellow 13 reporting in. On station for CAS as well as interception of enemy fighters that may pop up. Let me know immediately if support is needed. Will be holding in low orbit in a racetrack CAP. 13 out."

With that said he closed the channel on his end, watching the display on his HUD for instrumentation and targeting info as well as the panoramic display for the outside terrain. He knew it wouldn't be long until the fighters were scrambled, but the fact that he seemed to be the only fighter in the area should keep the numbers of fighters on him at once lower than it could be. It was just a waiting game now.

Spoiler

[member="Jessica Med-Beq"] [member="Darth Atrox"] [member="Fawn Alzi"] [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"] [member="Natasha Darkstar"][member="Daxton Bane"] [member="Gath"] [member="Dalton Kenway"]

 

[Marek Starchaser]

Enemies: Everyone in this thread. And that thread. And your thread. Aside from the medical droid.
Allies: Medical droid. Space Advil.

The droid stepped back over to the man. “Here is your medicine, and water, Executive Starchaser.” Right, that was what he was going by now. The Obsidian Order was … what, disbanded? Gone the way of the Templar. He was what, a relic? Not sure. Metus was a Sith, Ket had been… Ket. Marek wasn’t either of that. He was unique, he was different. And that made him dangerous. Taking the water and pills, he popped the meds and downed the water. He looked at the droid and was about to speak.

“Sir, you are in the medical bay of the Invisible Hand. A guest of the Confederacy. Though I understand you are a citizen anyway.” The droid spoke and Marek stared back.

Fraking Metus. Marek ran a hand through his hair. Why was he here, what was it going to do. He was having a fine time being away from here. Sighing, he shook his head.

Yeah, bad frakking move, Marek. “Oh… damn.” He leaned back and put his arm over his forehead, as he lay on the bed. “I am going to kill every living thing on this boat.”

“Every. Single. One.”

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

ORD PADRON - Orbit
​Aboard the Valkyrie
Objective: Obliterate.
Location: Remains of Hangar 3


​Allies. The Ancient Eye had, regardless of his grovelling; had acquired allies. It was against his nature, even as a individual of what some would consider perverse intent, he still had a strong belief in unity. Solidarity. A strong rule, a single rule. The reigns of power held in the iron clad fist of one authority, alliances were a betrayal of that ideology to his mind. However he had yet to treat it as such, as acting as though the degrees to which the Monarch acted in contradiction to how he personally felt were not arbitrary. The Matador was the enforcer of the Monarch, the Chieftain of his warring efforts and military ruler of their worlds.

​Robotic limbs rose from the Valkyrie's floor, lifting the massive multi-layered plates.

​He would not decline the call to battle. As, for whatever reason it may be that he was called. The call still was, to ​War​. The scale may have been small, but yet this was the way things were to be. He'd might as well savour the positive. Refrain from a morose perception of the situation in its entirety.

​The plates of the armour slowly connecting, activating the neural interface.

​He could feel it now, the beat. The thump in his chest as he salivated; the muscles in his jaw softening into a fiendish grin as the separate pieces of his helm were put together, connecting around his face; white puffs of condensed air escaping its sides as the suit was sealed air tight.

​The Mag-Coil network connected to the neural link, ready for activation.

​The final ceramic plates connected with a hiss, his HUD coming online as the red piercing eyes of the Impetus armour became entirely active, the magnetic field generated from the coils causing his body to pulsate; the agony causing him to wince. A guttural low growl escaping his mechanical exterior as he felt the intense agony. ​Yes​. The Matador almost relaxed into the feeling, the adrenaline of expectancy. Expectancy of combat, of slaughter. The pain thriving inside of his body, the incomprehensible agonizing pain that surged with every beat, through every atom of his being. This was what it meant to be truly alive.

​This was existence, to be in pain and to use it. To use your pain. The mewling curs who hid from this were cowards, he accepted that. He accepted the nature of inferiority. It plagued nearly every being in the Galaxy. He would not suffer the same ignorance.

​The armouring process was complete, the Sovereign Impetus armour comfortable clung to his solid form, Oribuir sat against the length of his spine, his Khopesh resting against his lower back. He was ready, stepping into the Valkyrie's Assault pod, he readied himself.

​The Valkyrie's auto-pilot kicked in, dropping into orbit; flying just above the Crucibles base of operations. Swinging by as the massive assault pod was released, the Durasteel craft was almost ten feet in length, plummeting down to the planet below. Heat and blaster fire rose to meet the pod as it came crashing down upon their forces. Cutting right into the centre of their third Hangar.

​The assault pod collided with a ship attempting to take off, crushing the pilot and the majority of the ship. Blaster fire draw silent for a split-second before the firing continued. The Assault pods massive door shot open, a metal foot behind it as red eyes peered out at the unsuspecting forces.

​A low growl complimented by the massive form gliding through the air. The Matador leapt from the pod, Oribuir slicing through the abdomen of his first victim as his right hand thrust a Crucible foot soldier to the ground. The concrete slab beneath him cracked, a visual representation of what'd just happened to his organs. Oribuir glided through the air almost independently, the force guiding every movement; assisted by the neural interface increasing his reaction time; every strike was parried. Every opponent brutalised.

​Rage flowed from body to weapon as the Matador cleaved through the Crucibles pitiful forces. Reflecting blaster bolts from the palm of his hand, kicking and punching as he weaved the massive sword through the air like a paperweight.

​A singular, stupid albeit brave man leapt at his back; thrusting a dagger at his arm as the magnetic field reflected him; thrusting back his weapon but a few inches as the Matador thrust his elbow into his stomach, knocking the man from the ground. A low predatory growl escaping the monsters metallic jaw as his pincer like hand grappled the man by his leg, flinging him like a ragdoll at the Crucible foot-soldiers.

​The Matador stood amongst fire and blood, raising his arm to speak into his comlink.

​"Begin your assault." ​Were the Chieftains command, broadcasted to all Ancient Eye forces.

 

[Mythos]

They have called and we have answered.

The glory of the main fleet and soldiers of the ancient eye dropped out of hyperspace like a sea of durasteel and plasma ready to devour anything in their way and it so happened that [member="Darth Metus"] himself conjured these forces. While the forces of the CIS focused on their mission Mythos' mission was entirely different: Shock and Awe. Overwhelming power and dominance in the form of military might and firepower the likes of which was not thought capable of the newly conquered world of Nibelungen... but it was... and it was not on display.

"Ready to port, power all systems to weapons, anything deemed hostile is converted into space junk. Get my ship ready, make sure that the forces have water, rations, ammunition and sensitive equipment ready for what is to come. Show the galaxy what we can do."

The first ship to drop was the Akaionsotorfer, a massive Pyramid ship being the capital ship of the Ancient Eye and Mythos' personal cathedral ship. What it lacked in guns and weapons it more than made up for in hangar space and defensive shielding, the very form of a pyramid made it sturdy to even the most powerful attacks. Behind his ship came the battle cruisers and frigates, packed to the brim with troops for assault, not entertainment. Mythos was not here to gain a foothold, Mythos was not here to gain territory on the surface, Mythos was here to destroy the enemies of the CIS with diligent brutality and surgical precision.

the formation exiting hyperspace was a spear, in it's head Mythos' personal ship, he made a point of always leading from the front, if you could see Mythos in the battlefield you were behind and you needed to catch up. [member="Seras Rose"] beside him at all times, [member="The Matador"] never too far behind and reinforcements form the shrouded republic soon also to exit hyperspace once Mythos had a scan of space, troops, time, terrain and obstacles on the battlefield.

"Sitrep, prepare to copy" he commanded from his port, already seeing the layout of space. "We engage forces around the crucible, armor is set, we need flanking element to our Coruscant, flank Mustafar once we engage. Over and Copy" The words had not left his lips when the squadrons of fighters began to deploy. Mythos' master in the One Sith always said that he was as subtle as an Oxibeast, he took that as a compliment. He spoke in code to confuse would be slicers, but here he was a master of everything that sorruouded him.

"For the Gods pray on our fallen enemies today, let it rain, let it rain blood. No prisoners, No mercy and No Retreat. The Eye Sees Al'



​

 

[Marek Starchaser]

Enemies: Everyone in this thread. And that thread. And your thread. Aside from the medical droid.
Allies: Medical droid. Space Advil.

The droid stared blankly, as droids were known to do. It didn’t know what to say. Wasn’t in its programming. Still, the droid gave medication and water to Marek. That meant it could stay. “Electrolytes, Exectuive Starchaser. You require electrolytes.” The droid turned away before grabbing a glass and returning it attention to Marek. The droid handed the new glass to the man who grabbed it.

He reached forward and sat up. Just enough to sitting. Then he steadied himself. Looking around. “Yeah, the room is still moving. Fix that, droid.” He muttered before taking a sip. A few more sips and Marek was ready. He reached out to the Force, and that dark chill filled him. Not with rage, per se, but definitely with determination. And a hell of a lot of it.

Not ready for standing not yet.

“Did I tell you about the redhead? Redhair. Man, y’know? Just… gah.” Marek laughed. “And the chest on her, not quite Dangerous, but y’know, close to that. Sand for brains, but didn’t really need to talk much.”

 

[Darth Atrox]

Darth Atrox leaped from the confines of the stealth ship without hesitation, landing with the nimbleness of a nexu, and his lightsaber burst into song once he had righted himself. Her crimson glow bathed the mysterious Zabrak in a blood-red light, and illuminated the path a few paces before him.

The Sith Lord would not stumble, and he would not blunder in his mission. He, as every Dark Acolyte aboard that stuffy vessel, was vying for the Vicelord's attention, and dark senses concealed deep within Atrox's mind told him that perhaps this day would propel the newcomer into the direct gaze of the Sith Lord himself. For once, he felt like an acolyte again, and something in the Sith Lord's consciousness clicked - this was a new start for him. No longer would he need to watch for the blade at his back, or prepare for the blade at his throat. Was it actually that he had begun to care for those he called comrades? Did he appreciate the fact that they were not plotting his inevitable demise? No. he snapped to himself resoundingly. It couldn't be so.

He shook the feeling away from him like swatting a fly, and began to follow his determined path to the warehouse in which the Defoliators were stored. Naturally, Karak had been studiously examining the layout of the facility and he felt as if he had walked these walkways a thousand times. This would be a breeze.