Behold, A Pale Horse! [T1 Dominion of Janara]

[Cyrus Tregessar]

GEOPOLITICAL SITUATION

Janara III, once an agricultural and resort world of the Omega Protectorate, in the wake of the Omega-Fringe war and the subsequent collapse of both governments the world was forced to turn inwards to survive. Over the past few years they have built up into a moderate industrial powerhouse and trade center, and support a sizable space fleet and professional military.

While in the past both the First Order and the Galactic Alliance have made diplomatic overtures to the leadership of the system, with the outbreak of war in the Outer Rim the situation has changed dramatically. Pro-Alliance elements swept in recent elections, citing concerns about the Kaeshana incident. The most recent First Order embassy was received with thinly veiled threats and a new, thoroughly disadvantages trade and cooperation treaty. The last straw was when a First Order merchant convoy was intercepted and several ships confiscated under the guise of preventing war supplies from reaching Dosuun.

It is unknown what the Janaran's were hoping to achieve, but the reaction from the First Order was swift and decisive. The embassy was recalled, and the Imperial Palace placed a complete hold on all communiques with Janara. Central Command received an order to draft an invasion and occupation plan in 72 hours.

The First Order will not tolerate a belligerent nation on its border during wartime.

Seven and a half days later Battlegroup Mors departed Dosuun with the stated goal to subjugate the Janara system and secure the First Order's northern border. It would be called Operation Fallen Sword.

JANARAN DEFENSE FORCE

A surprisingly large and well equipped military force, the JDF has been used by the planet to both secure the local stretch of the Morellian Trade Spine and influence surrounding territory. Consists almost entirely of old, second-rate Omega Protectorate ships, but these are rather numerous and well-maintained. Ground Forces have modern equipment but lack experience fighting other professional militaries, and most units have a distinct lack of heavy equipment. Both the Ground and Naval forces supplement heavily with droids, due to the comparatively low population of the system.

The FOSB intelligence reports approximately 60 combat ships, divided into four flotillas. Fighter complements tend to be low, more a result of lacking trained pilots rather than lacking the craft themselves. Many of the more advanced ships are veterans of many battles and have extensive repaired portions.

Spoiler

First Flotilla (Defense Fleet)

• 1 x Antilles-class Star Defender
• 1 x Belsar-class Command Carrier
• 1 x Herald-class Assault Cruiser
• 1 x Stalwart-class Heavy Cruiser
• 
  2 x Excubitor-class Cruiser
  
• 
  3 x Nebulon B9 Frigate
  
• 
  2 x Nebulon B7 Frigate
  
• 
  5 x Protectorate Blockade Runner
  

Second Flotilla (Patrol Fleet)

• 2 x Nonnah-class Assault Cruiser
• 1 x Herald-class Assault Cruiser
• 3 x Excubitor-class Cruiser
• 4 x Nebulon B7 Frigate
• 3 x Protectorate Blockade Runner
• 1 x Strike-class Corvette

Third Flotilla (Patrol Fleet)

• 1 x Nonnah-class Assault Cruiser
• 1 x Herald-class Assault Cruiser
• 2 x Stalwart-class Heavy Cruiser
• 2 x Excubitor-class Cruiser
• 3 x Nebulon B7 Frigate
• 4 x Protectorate Blockade Runner
• 1 x Strike-class Corvette

Fourth Flotilla (Reserve Fleet)

• 1 x Herald-class Assault Cruiser
• 1 x Warden-class Heavy Cruiser
• 1 x Excubitor-class Cruiser
• 3 x Nebulon B7 Frigate
• 5 x Protectorate Blockade Runner
• 2 x Strike-class Corvette

Planetary defenses are widespread but limited, and most of the cities and population centers are relatively undefended, reflecting the agricultural focus of the planet in the past. Widespread resistance is deemed unlikely, unless extensive military and leadership assets are allowed to escape and blend in with the civilian population.

Ground forces are well equipped with old Omega Protectorate weapons, armor, and vehicles. They are a mix of professional forces and militia with limited training and motivation. First Order forces are advised to treat them as first-rate combatants and not take chances. They are not expected to utilize law-breaking tactics like human shields or hiding in designated 'refuge' zones but care should be taken to minimize civilian casualties regardless.

INVASION

This is a straightforward military invasion. It will progress in four phases.

Phase I: Assault. The main fleet engages hostiles, targeting enemy formations and static defenses. Goal is to punch a hole through which assault ships can be ferried safely down to the planet. Surgical strikes to eliminate key defensive positions, leadership elements, and other critical facilities are possible via dropships and the like but extraction is complicated until space superiority has been achieved. Ground units are to establish beacheads to enable the landing of more troops..

Phase II: Exploit. Once breakthrough has been made, both on space and on the ground the end goal is the Complete Military Defeat of the Enemy.

Phase III: Consolidate. Entrench and resupply, then begin the process of occupying civilian centers and rooting out sources of resistance. This stage will also see the elimination of the existing civilian leadership.

Phase IV: Pacification. Bringing Order to the Chaos.

As per the directive issues by the Imperial Palace, the only acceptable outcome is the UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER of the Janaran Government, or the cessation of hostilities because of a lack of organized resistance.

BATTLEGROUP MORS ORDER OF BATTLE
Group Commander Mors - Admiral Istel Kahalen, Commanding
Embarked on the FIV Implacable

Spoiler

Task Group 78.1
Destroyer Squadron 712

• FIV Implacable - Darr Itah Refit
• FIV Rackham- Imperial X Star Destroyer
• 3 x Dagger II-class Frigtes
• 1 x Sondheimer Interdictor Cruiser

Attack Squadron 91

• 2 x Victory X-class Cruisers
• 2 x Marauder-class Cruisers
• 5 x Halberd-class Frigates

Escort Squadron 76

• 1 x Marauder-class Cruiser
• 1 x Stormcloud II-class Crusier
• 1 x Empire-class Frigate
• 1 x Dagger II-class Frigate
• 4 x 849A-class Frigates

Task Group 78.2
Vice Admiral Uluc Keri Reis, Commanding
Embarked on the FIV Terror
Destroyer Squadron 785

• FIV Terror - Imperial X Star Destroyer
• FIV Garrote - Assimilator Interdictor Destroyer
• FIV Terminus Est - Executrix Star Destroyer
• 2 x Dagger II-class Frigates
• 4 x Mukhtiar-class Corvettes

Escort Squadron 729

• 1 x Inflictor II-class Cruiser
• 1 x Marauder-class Cruiser
• 5 x 849A-class Frigates
• 1 x Dagger II-class Frigate
• 2 x Raptor II-class Frigates

Task Group 78.3
Vice Admiral xxx
Pursuit Squadron 702

• 1 x Marauder
• others

Recon Squadron 74

• 3 x FIPV-9 Keruanos
• 2 x Shadow-class
• etc

Task Group 78.4
Rear Admiral xxx
Attack Squadron 811

• Star Destroyer
• Others
• Corsair-class Corvettes
• etc

OBJECTIVES

Phase I is underway and Battlegroup Mors has engaged the enemy 1st and 3rd Flotilla's in far orbit.

1. Fleeting. The JDF 4th Flotilla has been lurking at the edge of the system and has moved around the flank to try and intercept the massing assault ships preparing to kick off Phase II of the invasion. Group Commander Mors has dispatched several Squadrons to head them off, and a secondary battle has developed on the fringe.

2. Strike Teams. Over a hundred assault shuttles were sent down in the first wave to clear ground for Phase II. Several shuttles were given the objective of striking the Planetary Defense HQ in an attempt to disrupt communications and support lines. Ending up in a labyrinthine complex filled with enemy soldiers and panicked civilians, the strike team had to choose between completing their objective or coming out of this alive.

3. Invasion. Phase II is about to commence. Several Reclaimer and Consolidator Assault Ships are on their way dirtside. The enemy knows they are coming and is dug in and ready. This is Omaha Beach, 850 ABY.

4. Wetwork. Several FOSB Agents (and possibly KoR support) arrived on the planet a few days prior to the attack with the assigned objective of eliminating key civilian leadership and crippling the chain of command and decision making process during the attack. Now with the invasion ongoing, they have managed to close in on their target in the middle of a city center. A city center about to become a warzone.

5. BYOO. It's a war, whatever you think of it'll probably fit just fine.

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GMea5qUGjf0

The Grand Admiral was ripped out of a restless sleep by the surprisingly gentle tone of his comm suite. Decades of military service had him out of bed and half dressed before he even registered what exactly was going on. He checked the time. 0300, and with talks of a ceasefire on the horizon it probably wasn't an Alliance surprise attack. The message was marked 'priority, non-urgent' anyway. Out of excuses, he answered the call. The face that appeared on the other end was that of a young lieutenant, probably the night secretary. For a moment the man seemed shocked, as if the infamous Grand Admiral Tregessar appearing in his current state had shattered every image of invincibility and inhumanity the junior officer had of him. Cyrus spoke first, shattering the illusion with a terse and characteristically monotone question.

“What is it?”

To his credit, the Lieutenant wasted no time in answering. Cyrus had a habit of firing aides who wasted time with pleasantries or pointless ceremony.

“Admiral Kahelan sends his respects and wishes to inform you that the Task Force has arrived in Janara, timestamp 2234 local. Initial kinetic bombardment of fixed defenses commenced at 2352. Janaran screen elements engaged at 0012. Skirmishing broken off approximately 30 minutes later, one enemy ship destroyed, one crippled, no significant casualties for the battlegroup. Enemy 2nd Fleet engaged Task Group 78.2 at 0129. Enemy 3rd Fleet engaged Task Group 78.1 at 0144. Last report is that the main body force was moving into range. Message is time-late three hours. Er, approximately.”

“Very well. I'll be in the Ops Center shortly. Is there a hyperwave link set up yet?”

“In progress sir, by the time you arrive we should be able to see everything in real time.”

“Fine.” Cyrus cut the comm without ceremony. Operation Fallen Sword had begun.

---

---

---

The Strategic Command Headquarters on Dosuun was a large complex designed to be used as the joint meeting place for all the military branches of the First Order. The various agencies involved took this literally, and tended to use the place to coordinate joint operations while handling day-to-day management of affairs at local headquarters. Naval Central Command was located off planet entirely, so for the present Cyrus was the only one of them present, and by extension the highest ranking Naval personnel on planet.

Located towards the center of the building was a large arena-like setup officially entitled the Joint Operations Command and Coordination Resource Center but generally just called 'Ops.' It was situated several floors underground, in a hardened bunker supposedly able to resist intensive orbital bombardment, nuclear attack, or even mild 'city destroying' superweapons. Cyrus occasionally wondered how rigorous the testing process had been. It also featured reinforced connections to satellite communications, civilian bands, and all manner of communication and command systems.

The idea was that even if Dosuun was locked down under siege, they would still be able to coordinate defense across First Order space. Assuming of course that whatever enemy had been able to punch through to Dosuun hadn't already shattered the military strength of the First Order.

The elevator down to Ops was already crowded as Cyrus reached it, but a pair of junior officers quickly stepped out and made room for Cyrus, recognizing him instantly by the brilliant white of his uniform. The crowd was because of the presence of one Field Marshal von der Layen, the ranking Stormtrooper officer present, who was also headed down to oversee the operation. She gave Cyrus a respectful nod, but said nothing else.

Operations was abuzz with activity as they entered, splitting off to separate sections. A large holo-display showed the entirety of the Janara system, with tiny dots for each ship present. The information was being relayed from ship to ship to a modified frigate in the rear that was pushing the whole picture back to Dosuun via a powerful hyperwave transmitter. In other words, despite the offensive taking place millions of light years away it was being viewed practically in real time.

Cyrus was analyzing the tactical picture even before he'd gotten settled in. A quick review of the early reports and a sped-up viewing of the earlier battle gave him a solid idea of how things had gone down.

---

---

---

Battlegroup Mors had arrived in-system in four distinct Task Groups, made up of the competent squadrons of the overall command. The recon ships had led, reverting at the edge of the system and quickly establishing a recognized surveillance image of the battlespace. Aided by baffling features, they had gone undetected until the larger force was picked up by long-range hyperspace sensors on Janara.

The Janaran's might not have been anticipating a war with the First Order, but their initial reactions proved they had prepared for it, at least to some degree. Civilian shipping was immediately directed to begin heading out-system, and intra-system craft began to touch down wherever possible. Initial projections gave only two hours before all non-combatants were clear. Admirable efficiency.

Task Group 78.2, under the command of Vice Admiral Uluc Keri Reis, arrived first, with three star destoyers spearheading the assault. They immediately began long-range kinetic bombardment of any fixed defensive installations. Then the frigates of the escort squadron ran into enemy skirmisher vessels, and the battle began in earnest. It wasn't a fair fight, really, the Janarans were running old Protectorate designs, many of which are beginning to show their age. A blockade runner was caught beam on by a pair of 849's, and split in half under the concentrated turbolaser barrage. A second ship was left drifting, status unknown. Three others barely escaped into the protective envelop of their capital ships firepower.

Undeterred, Vice Admiral Reis pressed the attack, pitting his Star Destroyers against the still-lethal protectorate Assault Cruisers. Though the last report Cyrus had heard was inconclusive, it was clear on the screen that a significant amount of damage had been inflicted on both sides. The two formations were now regrouping at long range, sniping at each where they could to disrupt recovery operations.

Task Group 78.1, under Admiral Kahelan's direct command, had arrived shortly after TG 78.2 and pushed past in an attempt to reach siege station over the planet. The large central defense fleet, featuring both functioning destroyers that the JDF had in service, had countered him. One ship had been lost to a volley of Javelin rounds right at the start, but after that it had turned into a brawl, with both sides unwilling to give ground. After three hours they had broken off to lick their wounds.

It resembled a slugfest from afar, but the truth was that the First Order had gained a significant advantage. The JDF was pressed in around the planet and risked being surrounded and annihilated. Only the arrival of their 3rd Flotilla had salvaged the situation.

Rather than move his third unit to confront the third JDF formation, Admiral Kahelan had elected to continue on with the invasion, directing Task Group 78.4 to escort the assault force to the planet, oversee their landing operations, and then withdraw or hold position as necessitated by the tactical situation. Meanwhile the Implacable would use its awesome firepower to keep the 3rd Flotilla at bay.

The gamble had worked, more or less, though there had been casualties. The transport ship By The Sword had received penetrating fire from ground emplacements and lost control on reentry. The crippled vessel, streaming fire from its engines and leaking coolant, had slammed into a skyscraper in the capital city, raining debris on the urban blocks below. Ground element commanders were demanding to be allowed to lead a rescue party.

In space the recon units had detected the hyperspace signature of the last JDF formation, the so-called 'Reserve Flotilla.' With Admiral Kahelan deeply involved in picking apart the main enemy fleet, they needed a subordinate commander to tackle this emerging problem.

---

---

---

It was at around this point that Cyrus had entered the chamber. Across the system the JDF and First Order Navy battled for dominance, and ground were landing and preparing to seize key objectives. There were other operations at work too, of course, FOSB agents and Knights of Ren with missions to eliminate key leadership and disruption communications and coordination.

He settled in to his command chair and sent an ensign scurrying off to find proper recaf. It was going to be a long night.

 

[Fiolette Fortan]

BYOO
Post 1

Sleep wasn't something that Fiolette hadn't been acquianted with in the past twenty-four hours. The Warspite's bridge hummed quietly, forward operations ran smoothly. Her hands were relaxed over the bridge of her nose covering her mouth entirely. Hair pulled back into a neat bun but her eyes spoke of the long day and night. Kuragin weighed heavily on her mind, and it played for her over and over again. Slowly she withdrew her hands down to her lap and hung her head. Commodore Rashad was none to pleased, and Fiolette could scarecly blame her. The loss of life was on her shoulders just as much as it had been on the Alliance's.

She had been aware of the plans for Janara, and for the most part simply watched as the others put their forces together and sent them off into battle. The blonde was seated out near the large holotable that sat central to forward operations. A calm display of First Order space with bleeping dots indicating the movements of their ships. She rose from her seat, uniform crinkled with her movement as a light shadow cascaded on the durasteel floor beneath her feet. "Galeway, I'll be in my ready room if you need anything."

Lt. Commander Galeway turned and nodded in acknowledgement. As Fiolette with her shoulders hunched made her way into the back ready room connected to forward operations. Just as soon as the doors closed behind the admiral she laid her back against their frame. With an exhale, she started to move for her desk - the large handcrafted desk. Finished with a deep mahgony to bring out the details in the wood. As the Galidraani woman to her seat her eyes went to her monitor. She checked the chronometer in the upper right hand corner. 0221 local time, somewhere over Tokmia an hour ahead of Dosuun's local time.

Central Command would be buzzing about the Invasion of Janara. It meant without a doubt that [member="Cyrus Tregessar"] would be up and about. Fiolette shifted within her seat leaning forward one elbow on the arm of her chair as she scrolled through different feeds. Captain Kyoung-Ha Kim, she recalled him from her old Task Force 741 before the naval restructure. He was part of the operations over Janara now. She decided to go back through the timeline of events that led up to this point. Pro-Alliance elements, instigators - well paid instigators she labeled them.

Given the location of Janara and the range to the New Balosar Sector, Fiolette began working on the structures there. Assigning several repair stations and two orbital stations. The stations would travel there the moment she was given word to send them but not before. In the mean time the admiral scrolled to view the progress of FIMS Kent formerly SLMC Haven, withdrawn from the Order of Sacred Lotus after word was recieved of the Order's intention to align themselves with the Galactic Alliance. FIMS's current director, Commodore Rashad issued the recall of all First Order personnel, technology and equipment.

It meant the nine medical vessels given to the Order along with the medical station would find their way back to First Imperial space. Which was now on Fiolette's monitor, just as she looked over to a larger monitor that rested opposite of her desk. The woman rose from her desk, finger tips resting on the edge as she looked for the monitor's remote. Once it was in her grasp (it was hidden under three books and a tablet) she powered it up and sent the data feed from Central Command there so she could view it and monitor other work. As she set the remote down, Fiolette's eyes wandered over to the tablet. The tablet that had been with her on Kuragin, and as she sat down the weight of it came rolling back to her shoulders.

 

[WolfMortum]

Location: Task Group 78.2, FIVTerror - Imperial X Star Destroyer.
Starfighter Squadron: Omega.
4x ISFA 51 Nightshrike Advanced Strike Fighters
Objective: Intercept incoming Fighter Squadrons, provide Naval Support.
Post Count: 1.
NPC's: Omega Support

They had been among the first to see combat out within the Janaran Sector of the Inner Rim. Under the Command of Vice Admiral Uluc Keri Reis the leading trio of StarDestroyers had taken the front of the assault; there upon one of the three massive vessels, Caehl Ren had boarded back before they had departed from Dosuun and had been accompanied by this fellow Disciples of Ren under the instructions of his superiors and the First Order Security Bureau's approval, they had been designated advanced fighters for the task ahead of them. As members of the Order of Ren, all personnel were expected to undergo a wealth of programming and intense training regiments in order to maximize their possible performance within the field of war that they would readily take up in service to the Supreme Leader Sieger Ren. Under his influence of indomitable might, it was the intention of Caehl Ren that he were to conquer the expectation of death that often came with entering into such battles upon the wings of suicide, otherwise known to be Starfighters, with the power of the Darkside and the absolute dominion over the enemy at the touch of a trigger. Following the first series of small victories over the Janarian fleet, a decisive first blow to the worlds strategic defense, soon enough the rest of the First Order's naval forces would arrive and again the hail would sound for the fighter squadrons to leap back into active duty.

Moving in stride across the main hangar to where their squadrons fighters were being tended to by the maintenance crew, the crabs all scurried away at the sight of the Disciples, Arkaos, Nocturnus and Delengtha Ren following in behind Caehl as they sought to board their fighters. Each of them moving to their seperate craft, climbing up the makeshift stairs of and pulling the canopy high that they might enter the cockpit and those on duty clear the area for a free take-off. Strapping himself in via the harness, Caehl fired up the engines, prioritizing the thrusters to begin a brief ascent, "Control. Omega Squadron, clear for departure. Omega One checking in" the vessel remained hovering above the deck, the landing gear retracting into the hull of the fighter as he awaited the others acknowledgement.

"Omega Two, Checking in​

Omega Three, Checking in​

Omega Four, Checking in"​

​

Being given the green-light from hangar control, Caehl then confirmed their departure and lit up the thrusters, the Fighter soon moving towards the energy field that kept the air within the lungs of all those working within the Hangar, the vast blanket of space dotted with bright stars yet unclaimed by the First Order, lining their view. Like buzzards from a hive, the four of them surged out from the StarDestroyer, joining the other squadrons of fighters leaving the Destroyer and turning their attention to the incoming fleet en-route to deter the First Order from taking a stronger presence in orbit of the world of Janara.

 

[Cable Shike]

Location: Inbound to a hot LZ
Objectives: 2 & 3
[2/20]
NPCs: 2nd Company, 3rd Bn, Helldiver Corps

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EbI0cMyyw_M​

It was practically easy-going once they broke atmo. After the hellstorm of fire they'd watched through the viewports that had greeted the escort vessels, the hectic diving fireball motion of reentry was almost relaxing. Seated in the back of a Thunderbird dropship, Cable had almost drifted off. Then they'd eased out, twenty of the large dropships and over 100 of the smaller Hellhawks in a vast formation, escorted by First Order TIE's and more than a few of their own flyboys in the iconic Aries fighter.

Helldivers bringing the name. Pain cost extra.

The Thunderbird gave a kick, followed immediately after by a loud piercing whine, like someone just knocked the wind out of a giant. The kick jerked the few dozing troopers awake and prompted a few others to whistle or laugh. They all knew what it was, the huge ventral mass driver firing at some distant target. Softening up the defenses so the ground pounders could get stuck in.

It was an unusual ride for Cable, normally he rolled with an infantry lance on a Hellhawk, but his squad had been given special instructions this time. A nod, perhaps, to Cable's particular set of skills. While the 3rd Bn was on permanent retainer (the 'Old Man's brute squad, they called themselves), this particular operation had required a special contract. After all Shadowline had a reputation to uphold, and somehow politicians and nobles found room to bicker about the difference between murder and killed in action.

The Thunderbird fired again, and this time the other team started shooting back. Laser fire form the flew up in sheets, threatening to tear the fragile Hellhawks out the sky. The escort craft moved in quick, the TIE's firing off missiles and bombs, while the Aries' did strafing runs with their distinctive cannons. Here and there one of the small gunships blew apart in flames, and each time Cable gave a mental salute to the occupants. "A fastrack home' they called it, and each one would be remembered and honored.

But overall casualties were light, at least for the attackers.

The Thunderbird dove suddenly, sending Cable's stomach up into his throat. But it leveled out just as quickly, and somewhere someone ripped off their helmet and hurled across the compartment.

"You're cleaning that up before extraction," the crew chief remarked dryly.

The back hatch flew open, and from his seat Cable could see they were still several hundred feet in the air. The four Hetairoi tanks that took up most bay were ready though, and launched out into the air, the repulsors more than able to slow their descent. The infantry would have to wait several seconds more though, for the craft to get low enough.

Cable did a final weapons check, and glanced at his squad command display to make sure his unit was all ready as well. Seven pairs of thumbs up greeted him. Time to earn a check.

 

[Fiolette Fortan]

BYOO
Post 2

Dark roasted caf, no cream, no sugar sat in a cheaply made cup. Fiolette rubbed the sleep from her eyes fingers partially covered her lips. While one hand looked through designs, so many designs that all sat within the Naval Engineering Department's vault. A few of them caught her eyes, the Prince-class and of course the new Galidraan refit which was marked "Montague," to indicate that it had been part of the overhaul. What intrigued the admiral most about the Prince was the unique capability that it had. It was practically a mobile shield generator, heavy and slow with the main job of 'sharing shields.'

She wondered which one of their Mandalorian friends had given them the information they needed. Or if someone had grabbed the technology from Mandalore itself. Which would have been more likely given that several Imperials had been down there to help them while working with the Order of the Scared Lotus. Shield leech in reverse is essentially what this was, granted it needed to be refined, greatly.

The Galidraani womaned looked up over her monitor and peered over to get a look at the battlefeed. Clearly the Janarans were prepared, and for that she had to give them some credit. It was unfortunate that it came to this, she thought - time from her most recent thoughts had given way to clarity. If the Taloraans, the Lyunesi of Ryoone and other planets agreed to annexation so easily.

Rather, it had been easier before the War.

Her gaze drifted back down to her main screen, and beside the Prince laid the workings of the Galidraan II. The blonde still dressed in her uniform, with her hair still tied in a bun (although by now it had gotten a bit mess). Sifted through her desk drawers to find her stylus, as she got to work. Given the hour and the invasion of Janara the admiral had no issue with pinging [member="Cyrus Tregessar"].

The two spoke briefly about Kuragin and what exactly happened, and so she typed to him:

:: Ideas about the hull? I'm thinking detachable outer hull plating system ::​

 

[Asharad Graush]

Post One.
Objective II.

Elements of the First Order's Navy had been deployed to Janara, and reports said that they had already engaged the enemy forces that were in orbit of the planet. After Kaeshana, Barkhesh, Skor, and Hoth included - The Supreme Commander could admit to himself that adjusting to a life that was outside of war, outside of fighting would be near impossible for himself. From the day he was born, it was to take up his father's holdings as the Lord of the House, and to lead his armies into battle. In the name of the One Sith - The name Graush would live on. The legacy would be remembered.

But the One Sith failed.

And so he had killed his father in response to their collapse.

And so came the First Order.

Attaining the rank of Colonel had been quick, easy.

And as soon as he had been made one, he was already placed in command of some of the most elites troopers the First Order had to offer - at the time anyway. For months, just a little over a year it had only been battles. Little of anything else between rotating from Yalara to whatever new front Command wanted for the ambitious Sith Colonel.

From if it had been learning to fight, slaying his own Sith peers, studying combat, or actually living it - It had been the only constant within the Sith Lord's life. He reveled in it. Battle after battle, he cleaned his own armour personally, for no one knew it better than him, after the ones who had constructed it for him. Of course, out of all the engineers that had fashioned the suit, only one remained. Personally, he had slain them all, for its own weaknesses couldn't be allowed to reach the ears of his enemies. The sole survivor remained in the Yalaran Cells of the Haven Citadel.

War.

And the brutality of war, was all that A'sharad knew.

The Daisya Infiltrator that broke through the atmosphere of the planet rumbled as it entered a sky filled with anti-air rounds.

The First Order didn't partake in the same brutalities of the One Sith, no genocides of Togoria, no desolations of any planets.

"Hrm." He grunted, a flak round exploded just far enough away from the transparisteel window to crack it, the gauntleted hands on the controls continued the steep dive towards the planet below.

As Supreme Commander, he had the power to destroy worlds. Through him; death came in the form of a Star Destroyer. Beyond the Imperial Centres of Command and the military he led, it wasn't him they feared, he had come to realize, it was the machines, the weapons that were at his disposal to command.

That was going to change.

"I much rather do it myself."

The Janaran Defense HQ was his target. Other teams were sent, but the hostile numbers were far superior than what had broken through the Janaran Defense Fleet. Beyond his orders of tasking a trio of TIE Fighter squadrons to keep other hostile fighter squadrons off of him, the Daisya Infiltrator had remained silent, and when it had hit that wall of anti-air rockets, slugs and other forms of ammunition - It had cloaked. The squadrons he had employed without a lead, or an objective and almost immediately destroyed.

Everybody.

Dies.

 

[Caid Centurion]

BYOO
Post 1
[member="Fiolette Yvarro"]

The Nightstalker exited hyperspace at the minimum safe distance from the Warspite. The moment the Daisya-class Infiltrator would begin to appear on the Warspite's sensors, Caid depressed a button on his command chair to activate the vessel's identification broadcast. It would return a tag that the crew of the Warspite had certainly seen before, though it was some time ago when it still belonged to his now-deceased Father. The difference this time would be the code identifier which also indicated the vessel had been registered as belonging to a member of the Order of Ren. An Order that Cameron Centurion had not been part of since the very early days of the First Order.

Exhaling softly, Caid gave simple instructions to the flight crew. "Maintain approach speed. We won't be blowing through the pattern on this one, gentlemen."

"As you command, Your Highness."

Caid didn't really much react to the term of address. He'd long since replaced those individuals closest to him with his own warriors from Endelaan. They considered themselves his personal guard, but he never truly used them in such a function. Whenever he traveled to Endelaan, he permitted them to do as they were trained. It was important for them to maintain a connection to the society's culture if possible.

Moments later, the Captain spoke calmly into the communicator. "Warspite, Nightstalker. Clearance codes transmitting now, requesting permission to land." Per procedure, the purpose behind the vessel's visit was not disclosed over a communicator. The occupant would negotiate that directly with a representative of the crew - with the understanding that, were it vitally important, a level of urgency would have been communicated in advance.

 

[Asharad Graush]

Post Two.
Objective II.

​

​

The ramp to the cloaked ship opened up.

The Sith Lord had left the controls on autopilot, and he had ventured to the back of the ship and opened up the ramp leading into the cargo bay. Walking to the edge of the cargo ramp, A'sharad stepped out of the Infiltrator as it swept in low to the ground. Tucking into his body, the heavily armoured being hit the ground in a roll and he rose up to his feet, practically leaping back to his feet as he regained himself. Shortly after cresting a small hill, ahead were multiple metal structures raising up into the sky. Dozens of cannon emplacements were seen, angled up into the sky and firing at the assaulting troop transports and fighters that escorted them through the sky.

Drawing the silver coloured lightsabre on his belt, the Sith Lord descended the other side of the small hill, just as the position he was stood upon exploded in a series of explosions. Up ahead, there was what appeared to be a platoon of soldiers firing heavy ordnance and blasters at him.

The crimson beam ignited in his palm as he surged across the field.

The darkly armoured Sith crossed the distance quickly, bolts raining down upon him from the ridge up ahead. Some struck his suit, though he kept onwards, hardly appearing to be slowed, from time to time the crimson beam would maneuver itself into a position to deflect a handful of bolts, though for the most part they missed - The Force was a tool that allowed him to move faster than the average person's perception. Mere blaster bolts wouldn't stop the armoured Sith Lord.

At his feet, an explosion as he closed in on his targets, and his Heads Up Display lit up as he felt his feet leave the floor and all that he felt was the weightlessness and sharp shock of surprise as he flew.

 

[Thom Naudir]

Sentus Olan-Post 1
Phase 1

A brief flash, a sudden blur. Those were the only things to herald the arrival of the vessel that was just now exiting hyperspace. The dagger shaped hull, known far and wide across the galaxy as a symbol of power, fear, and security. The steel grey hull reflected the light of the distant star, and the red emblem painted onto the side of the ship gleamed, as a fresh coat of paint had been ordered before deployment.

The Blade Runner, a First Order Seculus class frigate came to full stop just inside the system. On the bridge, Commander Sentus Olan, commanding officer of the vessel, stood with his hands held behind his back, staring out the viewport into the empty void beyond. Around him, his bridge crew carried out their tasks. Sentus had little need to micro manage them, these were veteran naval officers. They knew their jobs, and Sentus trusted them to carry them out. After a few moments, Sentus turned away from the viewport, letting his eyes trail across the terminal stations, and briefly locking eyes with the two stormtroopers stationed at the entrance to the bridge. He dipped his head to them, giving them the respect they were due. They had saved his life enough times that he would not disrespect them, or their corp.

"Begin sending IFF to all nearby First Order vessels, and begin sensor sweeps for enemy and friendly ships. I want to know the location of every ship in this system before we move any further." A brief series of "yes sir's" we heard, before the bridge crew moved to carry out their new tasks. Sentus watched them for a few seconds, before turning and walking back to his previous position. He reached up to the collar of his uniform, briefly running his fingers across the small button on the right side. It was a small silver button, with a blue reptilian creature set in it. He then dropped his hands back to his side.

Time to get to work.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Sreina, Janara III
0350 hours, two days prior
Objective IV: Wetworks
Post 1​

They funneled into the system unassumingly, long before the attack. It was a simple matter, integrating with the larger part of society and paying their way into favor with the locals. The two political factions were at a stalemate during the fallout of their last election cycle, and despite overall successes in both industry and military, the President Elect Abbas Lornaset called for unity.

It was a unity that did not exist beneath the surface, two powers separated by fundamental ideas on how their society should operate quarrelled bitterly for control, and the reigning party made life hell for the opposition. The Bureau of First Order Security became aware of the weakness during the final hours of their ambassadorial presence on the planet. In their last ditch effort to offer peaceful negotiations to both sides, it became apparent that hostility toward the First Order had won the day.

To prevent the loss of First Imperial assets in the system, all non-militant personnel in the system had been subsequently evacuated, and procedures were enacted to formally declare war.

The idea of all out war on a lesser power was not ideal however, and the director of the Security Bureau stepped forward with a confidential joint forces operation between the military and intelligence. Hours after all Imperial personnel had vacated the planet, 0772 and several others Agents, dressed and kitted as laymen were aboard an unmarked shuttle with false identities and credentials drafted, and connections with the opposition were tapped to get men inside of government and military positions.

While most of the other agents were posted strategically to undermine the defensive effort, key agents were poised to strike at the heart of Janara itself. Already, their work could be seen in the form of strikes and walk-through, freezing industry and grinding taxation to a halt. Infrastructure bleed in a small, but noticable manner that did little more than inconvenience the infantile juggernaut.

What they could not know, was that the First Order had already sunk its fangs deep.

He walked down the corridor through the Presidential Suite, the same way he had for several days now with an envelope and several hundred pages of notarized papers tucked under his arm. Every so often, he stopped in one office or another to get a signature or drop some of the paperwork off.

"Jackie," one of the secretaries stopped him, too familiar for his taste. She wore the same, low cut top and bifocals as always, but no one ever seemed to notice. No one except the man who could read her mind. "Do you have a minute?"

"Certainly, Lorraine," he smiled. He organized the papers neatly and placed them on her desk, then made eye contact. "What can I do for you?"

Her body language shifted when he gave her attention, and her lips curved in a sweet smile. He gleaned her thoughts, aware of dissatisfaction in her love life, how she pined for a coworker who was- he had learned- completely indifferent toward her. And he knew that she had relations with the President Elect, though it would have marred his reputation for that information to slip out.

0772 wanted more lasting destruction than simply staining his clean record. The instructions were precise. "You've been a real kind man since I met you, and it's only been a few days now..."

He listened to her thoughts, not her words. Embellished with silky smooth overtures and colloquial speech, everything she said was almost certainly a lie. She wanted to feel like someone cared.

His smile faltered only for a moment.

"You're a kind woman," he told her as he placed a hand on her shoulder. "You should get out of government work. It's a cutthroat game, you know."

Her smile shifted and her cheeks grew rosy. "Oh, Jackie, you're a sweetheart," she showed more teeth, and he could practically taste the pheromones even from a human woman as she leaned closer. He could tell, she hung on every compliment.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked. "I've got a few free minutes after this shift-"

She stood abruptly and leaned close, whispering in his ear. "Oh yes," she crooned. "I'd love to go out with you, Jack."

"Perfect," he smiled.

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Post 1
Objective 2
Location: In orbit above Janara.

Kyrel sat in his quarters. He had studied his reflection that the gray durasteel hull was giving him. He stared at his scarred face and wondered how long has it been since he began this life. Months, weeks, years. He could hardly tell. He had fought a gruesome war against the Galactic Alliance. He had seen it all from Kaeshana, to Mustafar, to Skor II, and then to Hoth. With each time, he had known both Victory and Defeat. Each time he became stronger, each time he had proved his worth as the Supreme Leader's Enforcer.

He had looked at his scarred and deformed face with both pride and anger. He had recently healed from his wounds inflicted upon him at the Battle of Hoth, over the time his armor was heavily damaged, and he had realized something that he never thought he would imagine. His fixation for Lord Vader was a folly. Trying to meet up to such standards was a fool's errand, and most of the time it made him seem insignificant to most. So afterward, he repaired Lord Vader's armor and stored it back in his home on Mustafar. He had now chosen a new set of trappings. What he had worn now would be what he would say the new Kyrel Ren. Black robes mixed in with armor platings underneath, and a mask and hood to hide his deformed face. He had even started to train himself in powers such as Sith magic and even Force Lightning, as he had learned, it wasn't his cybernetics that restricted such abilities, it was his own potential and so began to work hard on such skills to wield, one day he had hoped that he maybe would become Master of Ren. At times he felt he was ready he knew it, he had even hoped that he was in the eyes of the Supreme Leader. Like anyone who followed the seductive lure of the dark side, he craved power. He had even craved enough to one-day rival Master Derith. His thoughts reflected on the girl who was a Knight when he entered the Bastion as a Disciple and became a Master shorly after Kyrel became a Knight. In some ways, he had both respect, fear, hatred and even at times a certain fondness for her. He wanted to best her, he wanted to stand beside her as an equal. What brought on such thoughts he couldn't say. Besides the Battle of Mustafar he never interacted with the woman that much, but the very sight of her stirred so many emotions within him, that this internal rivalry within the Knight of Ren. but for now, he was focused on more pressing matters.

He had stopped his inner pondering, as he had recently heard news of the First Order's attack upon Janara. This filled him with excitement, as he reveled in war. Conflict was all he knew, and if any of these Rebels, Opposed the Empire then they would be met with swift and brutal punishment. He stopped looking at his reflection, and put his mask on and walked out of his quarters. He was heading to the hanger to approach the transports that were heading down for the fighting. Kyrel would play a support role, trying to push the enemy back and go after key installations. Before he decided to do so, he had changed direction to the quarters of a new Disciple who had recently passed impressive tests at the Bastion of Ren on Virgillia. This was his first mission, and Kyrel would be the judge to see if he was worthy to one day hold the title of Knight of Ren. He approached the door to the quarters, his hood already up and waited for the boy named [member="Shay Marek"]

 

[Shay Marek]

Shay was thinking about the mission. He had been in countless tests...but not in an actual mission. He was both scared and excited. Not knowing what else to do, he looked at his weapon and started thinking, this thing had saved his life countless times in tests...but will it be enough on a battlefield...will it bring him to victory, or faliure... He tried to calm himself down and thought about his force abilities and remembered what they said...powerful, but not polished. He has been working on using his abilities from that day on. He threw his lightsaber in the air and kept it there for a few seconds. He wore his armor, simple in design. A red robe covering his head and his back, a plasteed chestplate and gauntlets. He wanted to change the gauntlet material to phrik, but that had to wait. He walked out the door and greeted his judge [member="Darth Interitus"]. "Hello master" he said.

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

[4/20]

Kahelan's gamble had worked, but it had been a costly victory. As transports breached atmosphere they encountered a hail of fire from defensive emplacements. Major cities and population centers had already been ruled out as too heavily defended to start landing, forcing the invasion forces to touch down in rural areas and advanced on foot. Had the Janaran's had time to prepare, it could have turned into a brutal war of attrition. As it was, the speed of the assault meant it would be a more mobile form of warfare, something which gave every advantage to the First Order.

The cost was paid by the Navy, as their ships were forced to hold screening positions despite the presence of both enemy ships and the occasional volley from the surface. TG 78.1 paid the price, with several ships crippled and more damaged to the point they had to withdraw. But Phase I was a success, and now there were boots on the ground. Satisfied, 78.1 withdrew, and 78.3 took their place, skirmishing with the JDF fleet.

It wasn't a glamorous or flashy maneuver of any sort, but it was competently executed and left little room for error. There was something to be said with the stolid manner of the First Order's commanders. Had Cyrus been in command, he would almost certainly have pursued the annihilation of the enemy's harassing forces before landing, depending on the violence of an offensive strike to shield the transports. The gamble was in assuming the enemy would be defeated, of course, and if they hadn't been, you risked losing a lot of troops entombed on their ships.

Away from the planet the battle was becoming somewhat chaotic, a rather typical turn of events in any large-scale engagement. While commanders on both sides were moving to reorganize their forces, a dozen small battles played out.

A pair of Nebulon B7's had caught an 849 out alone, and charged in, seeking some small victory. Their first volleys caught the Order frigate by surprise, penetrating shields in a few spots and disabling some guns. But the 849 wasn't totally defenseless, and elsewhere a Halberd saw a clear shot and took it. The 4 particle lances punched clear through shields and burned through the B7, piercing it. For a moment they flickered there like arrows or spears piercing some great metal creature, then the beams dissipated. The B7, twisting as if in agony, suddenly exploded in violence. Evidently the shots had hit something volatile.

The 849 wasn't out of danger yet, as it was at risk of being overwhelmed by the strike craft of the JDF ships. They sent a hail for assistance, but besides the Halberd (which was now engaged with a squadron of enemy fighters as well and far too busy fighting for its own survival to assist) the only ship nearby was a recently arrived Seculus-class Frigate, under the command of [member="Sentus Olan"].

All this Cyrus observed silently. He was here primarily to observe, and to provide operational support to the offensive if it became necessary. It would not, he had led the planning team in the first place after all, but there were always formalities and customs to be followed. And he was bored, what with the war against the Alliance winding down.

His personal console gave a quiet *ping* indicating he had a message. It proved to be a technical query by his counterpart and occasional battlefield comrade, Grand Admiral [member="Fiolette Yvarro"], specifically relating to armoring.

A damnable issue whenever it came up. Armor that was effective against kinetics was typically useless against turbolasers, and vice versa. You could layer composites, but that tended to be expensive and created a lot of extra mass. You could rely on shields, but they were extremely vulnerable to ion cannons. Warfare perfected perhaps, there was simply no such thing as a perfect defense.

: : Very effective against kinetics. More limited against energy-based weapons. Useless against Hypervelocity rounds, they would just penetrate and warp it. Entirely self-contained, armed and armored hull sections might be worth looking into. Ability to eject a compromised section would reduce overall station vulnerability. : :​

 

[Thom Naudir]

"Commander, receiving a communication. We are requested to assist First Order ships under assault by enemy strike craft." Sentus nodded at the communication officers words, thinking for a moment. "All hands to battle stations, bring shields online. Take us to the site of the battle and prepare to engage the enemy vessels. Divert all auxiliary power to the point defense grid, the faster we destroy those ships, the better." Sentus listened to his crew acknowledge his orders, not once taking his eyes away from the void outside the viewport.

Moments later, Sentus felt the familiar hum of the Blade Runner's engines accelerate, though he felt little change due to the inertial dampers within the ship. Sentus watched as the Seculus class frigate banked away from its previous position, making for deeper within system.

A few minutes of travel later, and Sentus could just begin to see the battle unfolding in the distance. Numerous explosions were the only thing he could see at first, but as the vessel continued to plow forward, details began to become clearer. Several First Order vessels were engaged with dozens of enemy strike craft, and it didn't appear to be going well for the First Order. The warships in this battle seemed better suited for capital ship to capital ship type engagements, the strike craft were therefore overwhelming them with sheer speed and numbers. Luckily, the Blade Runner was equipped for such a battle.

"All long range weapons, open fire. Concentrate fire on those enemy fighters nearest our ships, we need to drive them off and give them a chance to regroup and recover." Moments later, the bridge was lit up with green light as the Blade Runner opened fire on the enemy fighters. At the current range, Sentus knew very few of the shots would actually hit anything. However, it had the desired effect. "Commander, several enemy fighters have been destroyed, but a sizable portion of the enemy fighters have broken off and are heading this way." Sentus didn't need to be told, for moments later the Blade Runner began to shake as the fighters began firing on it.

Sentus let the enemy fighters continue their attack for several moments, before he was thrown forward from a explosion on the hull of the Blade Runner. He pushed himself up against the rail in front of him before speaking. "Alright, they are committed. Open fire with all Obelisk point defense turrets." Moments later, a volley of red lasers joined the green firing from the frigate as the Obelisk turrets came online. Before, the turrets were having trouble tracking so many enemy targets at once, but the Obelisk turrets had no such issue. The rotating orbs fired in several directions at once, and Sentus let a smile cross his face as dozens of enemy fighters began exploding in rapid succession, caught off guard by the delaying move.

The fighters attacking the Blade Runner, those that survived the onslaught began to retreat. As the frigate continued towards the First Order squadron, the Obelisk turrets continued to fire in rapid succession, driving more fighters away from the allied ships, and scoring a handful of kills. What was left of the enemy fighters broke, quickly withdrawing with the rest of their number.

Sentus let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. "Helm, bring us parallel with the rest of the squadron. And send word to command, we shall hold here with the squadron for now, to make sure the enemy fighters don't double back." [member="Cyrus Tregessar"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

0400, two days before invasion
Post 2​

The last few minutes of the shift passed without incident.

0772 delivered the final packets to be reviewed the next day, some boorish drivel about aqueducts and zoning. He gleaned in passing conversation with the liaison from the opposition that it was a Paramount issue to their current movement, as it would have allowed for a larger agricultural movement to coexist with the new wave of industrialization. The New Agrarian Party, as it happened, also strongly supported the First Imperial presence on Janara due to their stance on equality of importance between all forms of commerce. A wealthy business owner had no more or less rights than a lowly farmer- everyone paid their taxes, and everyone contributed to society.

It was a fascinating tidbit, to say the least.

When he stepped outside, Lorraine was already waiting without her glasses. Her azure gaze was as bright as her smile as she offered her hand for him to hold. He stared at it for several long moments before he realized that it was a social convention, and he accepted. "Did you have a place in mind?" she asked. "There's only a few bars open this late- or did you intend to sneak me back to your flat, you rascal?"

Her coy expression belied the trove of distasteful thoughts swimming behind her eyes. 0772 forced himself not to cringe. "If that is your wish," he clasped his hands behind his back and bowed his torso slightly. "Though I confess, my accommodations are slightly underwhelming, and the vintage is equally-"

"So formal," she giggled. The woman leaned into him like a girl half her age. He averted his gaze. "You seem like one of those old time gentleman, so concerned with propriety. It's just me- you can relax."

The last few words were a seductive whisper in his ear as she hung off his arm. The Agent led her down the path toward his flat, and as they entered, her jaw dropped. "Oh Jack," she sucked in a breath and stepped out into the common area, enticed by the regal tapestries and fine art hung on all the walls. 0772 reached into the wine cabinet and produced an unopened bottle. When she saw the label, she practically fell onto him.

"Is that-?" her voice cracked.

"Beaujolais Avalonia, ten years old," he confirmed. "The last bottle in the city after the boycott on First Imperial goods was put into effect." He could see her mouth watering. 0772 popped the cork, set the bottle aside to breathe, and fetched a glass. "Would you like a taste?"

"Oh," she nodded quickly. "And I'm assuming, with this kind of surprise, you were expecting the same."

"Not at all, actually," he returned to her side and poured out a half cup for her. She eagerly grabbed at it, sipped, and sighed in ecstasy. The woman barely cared that he had spurned her expectation of lust. "I am a gentleman, miss Lorraine," he told her. "A drink is a drink, and nothing more. You have my word."

She downed the whole glass in a single go.

"Then what do you want?" she asked, smirking.

He smiled faintly, poured another glass for her, and tugged at the collar of his shirt. "Why Miss Lorraine," he answered, "I've heard tell that you are an avid supporter of the opposition. I wanted to talk to you about that."

 

[Hansen]

Agent Totallex
Janara III, City Center, Vacant House.
Objective No: Four
Post: 1

The Black Spectre lays atop a wood table beneath an artificial shroud. Pulling the DLT Targeting Blaster tighter still into the shoulder causing a soft creaking of gloves and bodysuit, the crosshair rises and falls with each lazily inhale and sharp exhale. A citizen's heart lays not in her breast instead replaced with the cold calculus and a level of paranoia carried only by the most ruthless of chiselled operatives, the kind who is excited not by pain or the grotesque. Magnification intensifies over the scene from the vacant two-story house with conspicuously open windows; a sparsely populated one-way street in what Jaina thought of as a hovel of a city, she releases a sharp and dismissive sigh at the situation. Four hours in this position she'd waited for just one opportunity, one chance to fire but a single shot that would end the Janaran Chief-Of-Army. The man would be protected by a Cavalcade of vehicles, police and crack army troops. Jaina suspects the Chief's speeder will more than likely be a decoy. "All Skull callsigns this is Skull two, radio check, over." Breaking radio silence is dangerous though the risk of Skull Unit assaulting the wrong vehicle and the chief escaping is higher. They could count on his guards being amateurs or not have some kind of Quick Reaction Force on standby to evacuate the Chief. Three replies to the radio check fill in the crimson haired woman's slate coloured helmet. "All skull callsigns this is skull two, standby to execute on my mark, over." The distant whirr of repulsors in the distance echo through the narrow streets closer, the vehicles would hopefully be stopped by Tek who sits in a bulky, heavy landspeeder tucked away in a modest alley adjacent to the road. Ready to lurch forward, Tek was prepared to block the other end of the street. Trapping all the vehicles in the kill-zone. Stomach rumbles with discontent, a shred of anxiety forces the heart to beat firmly for a moment before subsiding into sweet serenity.


[member="Jacques"]

 

[Asharad Graush]

Post III.
Objective II.

For a moment, he was deafened as he was sent flying through the air, as if he were flying, as if nothing and no could catch harm him. His warrior's mind adapted however, eyes brightening in the typical fashion when a practitioner of the Dark Side tapped into one of their multiple sources of power. In A'sharad's case, it was Rage. The moment he hit the ground, he rolled, and then came to a stop, the sound of the fire that settled upon him did the same. Everything was motionless.

The first step he heard, or rather felt through the Force was assaulted by his telekinetic powers.

Yanked off their own two legs, the Sith Lord sprung off the ground and slashed diagonally across his victim's chest, swaying to the side to avoid the body as its violent momentum carried it past him. Lurching forwards, the Supreme Commander felt more than he actually commanded his body to move, and do what it did. Limbs were claimed as his own, bodies dropped to the floor - sometimes with spurts of blood, others with cauterized wounds through their armour as their blood began to coat the stygian plates that entombed Lord Graush's body.

Tilting his head to the side and leaning out of the way, a bolt streaked past the open air that his head was just inhabitating.

Half step to the side, and twisting around with his head to see where it had come from, his left hand surged upwards to release a torrent of lightning that electrocuted the man the moment it crossed the distance.

Cresting the top of the next hill, ahead there was the front gate into the HeadQuarters. He raised his hand, tapping the embedded wrist datapad. Landed some time ago. Slightly behind schedule. It was time to press forwards. The crimson beam of his lightsabre disappeared, and it then found a spot on its belt loop again and he trudged down the other side of the hill.

A long day indeed.

 

[Fiolette Fortan]

Post 3
BYOO

It was quiet, eerily so. Fiolette sat with her back flush against the chair, a hand curled beneath her chin while the other held a small glass of whiskey. Eyes glassed over with guilt, a trail of tears stained her pale cheeks. Lost in the thoughts of yesterday, haunted by the long gone dead truths of the past. She ran a finger across the rim of the glass, the blonde looked down at the bottle that sat on the edge of her desk. It threatened to fall on the floor and she figured; maybe it'd be for the best. One was the devil and the other - was a liar, that was the difference between whiskey and her. As the blonde shut her eyes she brought the glass to her lips and drank the shot. Fiolette set the now empty shot glass on the desk and took a hand to the neck of the bottle. She looked down at the shot glass and back at the bottle, drawing in a breath she exhaled. Just as the Galidraani woman was about to bring the bottle to her lips, there was a quiet ping from the console.

The admiral moved to search her desk for her glasses. Her hands came across her face smearing tears across her cheeks, highlighting the stains they left behind. Taking in another breath she fumbled with the black rimmed frames and set them on her face. [member="Cyrus Tregessar"] had finally replied to her. Just as the Warspite's crew addressed [member="Caid Centurion"]'s Nightstalker, working like a well-oiled machine to get the man aboard, all the while alerting the Admiral that she would have a visitor in one of the Warspite's observation decks. Fiolette looked down at what Cyrus had replied but decided to reply to him later on. She grabbed the cap and screwed it atop of the bottle and placed it down in the drawer of her desk.

Fiolette stood up and set her hand on the edge of the desk, her eyes focused on the screen ahead. From the surface, one might think that the blonde was taking Anoat hard. And to an extent, she was but in reality, she was dealing with more. Her life was crumbling, when the Alchemists on Aridente told her that her renewed youth would cost her. She had no idea, she had no idea that she'd lose her life, her family. Being with Cameron reminded her of what she missed, of who she missed. And she missed Josef, she missed his smile and his laughter the way that it felt to be held by him. Taking a deep breath she exhaled and turned to look herself in the mirror behind her desk. Whiskey would have to wait, there was a guest aboard her ship and she would do her best to meet with him.

 

[Caid Centurion]

BYOO
Post 2
[member="Fiolette Yvarro"]

Fortunately, the clearance codes employed by the Nightstalker were met with only the standard inquiries. Caid hadn't expected the exchange to occur any differently. Within a matter of minutes, the alien-looking vessel nestled onto the durasteel deck of the Warspite's hangar. Another thirty seconds passed before a lone, cloaked figure descended the loading ramp. Beneath the hood of his black cloak, familiar silver-green eyes burned intensely as he was greeted by a member of the crew. Caid offered only the name Ciardha Ren before he was ushered to one of the vessel's observation decks.

Once there, Caid turned his gaze out to the vastness of space. For a brief moment, he allowed his thoughts to settle on his purpose. His initial meeting with Natasi had indicated the young Sith searched for his father as some element of closure. That was only partially true. The closure he searched for had nothing to do with how Cameron died...but why. What had caused the man, a self-proclaimed titan, to finally succumb to death after so many centuries of routinely cheating it into yet another life? Caid wanted to know what had that type of power, to study it, and to protect himself against it...