Invasion Break of Dawn || CIS Invasion of BOTM held Rhand

[Ghost "Frankie" Sterling]

Location: Port Sorrow, Rand
Objective: Destroy Bone Temple.
Equipment: D16 slugthrower, D16 slugthrower pistol, H.A.R.M Mass production Type armor,
Allies: Diocletian Kahmen’’a , Kyyrk , Khora , Quinn Varanin, Jhira Mereel

Enemies: brotherhood of the maw, Dakrul


its hard to explain what it feels like to be dead yet still alive, to put your armor on over your body thats been burned with muscle and charred skin exposed. to feel a unyelding rage for the enemies of CIS and Eternal Empire, and to be too angry to die yet he frank is as he freefalls threw the sky to the droppoint having jumped out of the dropship before it landed before landing on the cold ground kicking up concrete and dirt as he stood back up.

Holding his D16 slugthrower and D16 slugthrower pistol as well as a vibroknife holstered on his armored chest. he let out a breath, sounding more like a mechanical hiss from his gasmask he moved to group up with his allies As he moved threw the area as fast as his body would carry him. chambering a new round he would move up to the rocks were Diocletian Kahmen’’a was moving for a vantage point "Whats the sitrep Soldier?" Frank qound say threw the hiss of his gasmask his voice sounding gravely and rough due the the damage his corpse had sastained.

 

[Halketh]

O V E R L O R D
S A I N T E D
Dark Lord of the Sith
Aboard the RCB "PROPHET"

​

The view from the bridge of the thundering vessel offered nothing of interest to him, but it did not keep him from attendance regardless. All about, his crew rested at their positions and stations, chattering about on the Battle Net between this grand vessel and the others in orbit, maintaining their stealth through the sheer volume of masking measures onboard the craft. He cared little for what was happening on the surface of the world, the evacuation of slaves to safety where their torment could be continued elsewhere; in fact, he rather found it all deplorable.

Slavery was a point of contention within the Brotherhood he vehemently stood against, though just as he had neither proclaimed himself a believer in The Avatars nor rejected their decrees outright, his stance on the subject was entirely unknown to his allies. The Mercurial Saint stood steadfast, hands neatly tucked into the small of his back, lost amidst the ivoried cloak draped over his form and arranged with careful mindfulness to appearance. He had forgone his armor for this occasion, finding it would serve him very little in the grand scheme of his aim for this particular defensive effort. He held no interest in fighting the fringe stalkers who rallied to assault Rhand. Their actions were of such little consequence to him he was only drawn away from his scheming elsewhere for one of them in particular.

Dimitri Voltura.

A Dragon amongst their rank, the sole soul within their collective he felt of value that was far better spent elsewhere. And, in truth, a man the Dark Lord held some modicum of friendly regard toward, despite the violence the two had enacted upon another in the defense of New Imperial Bastion. A Warmaster from conflicts past, the Sith Lord was, but one who could easily find himself swept away in the tides of blood starting to wash across the sequential worlds. Caelitus had no interest in finding what few friends he considered himself to have on the wrong side of history, much less amongst the corpses he sorted through when choosing his new soldiers.

Ephemeral winds coursed through the bridge, focused on the miraluka's position at the flank, and he stretched his hands out through the binding ties of Darkness interwoven between himself and those who had dared venture into his madness before. It was staining in its tangible permanence, something that time nor meditation could ever wipe clean, that pestilence he wrought with his mind alone. He focused upon this, briefly visiting the sickened mind of the Dark Voice in grazing pass, moving beyond the consciousness of Darth Solipsis in the way he had experienced before. The Dark Voice would sense him, feel him extending his talons through the haze, searching for something.

He coursed by the Dark Lord's Presence, barely paying it attention as the thinning strand between himself and the only other man to delve into his mind drew into greater focus.

The Dragon was closer than he thought.

Good.

Through the fog, his voice would project, echoing with its faint hymn: "I do hope you've considered my offer."

Nothing more, nothing less.​

 

[Priesse Verena]

Location: Northern Outskirts, Port Sorrow
Allies: EE ( Ingrid L'lerim ) │ CIS ( Gerwald Lechner ) │ SJC ( Caltin Vanagor )
Enemies: BoTM ( The Mongrel Kyrel Ren )
Unit Support: FAE/V-04 “Vayu” Speeder Interceptor (10) │ Gamma Series Titan-pattern Armored Heavy Transport (3) │ KV-1310 ‘Scorpion’ MLRS (2) │ Bell Squadron - “Assagai” Sith Fast Striker AT-PW (4)
Theme: Supernatural
Direct Engagement: Open!

Supporting the Confederacy’s offensive into Mawite space, the Eternal Empire had arrived in force as well, bringing with them an armored strike force centered around fast speeders, light walkers, and artillery. Among them, Priesse Verena Nera’kas, the younger sister of Ivixa Nera’kas, had arrived with her unit, Bell Squadron. It was the young, self-styled walker ace’s first sortie and it couldn’t have come against a more vile enemy, though her older sister would vehemently disagree with her on that point. After all, Priesse hadn’t been alive during the Annihilation of H.O.P.E., though she was well aware of the implications the event had held for the Asa’nyx and by extension, the Agents of Chaos, which her sister had fought for, before joining Blackwatch in the Eternal Empire.

How quickly things changed.

While Ivixa had urged her against joining the strike force, Priesse couldn’t turn away the opportunity to make her own name, in much the same way Ivixa had made hers. After her arguments against fighting with the Confederacy had failed, Ivixa had shifted gears, telling her that the Maw was a dangerous, genocidal enemy, implying in such a loving, graceful way that they were too much for her sweet little sister to handle. Unfortunately, Priesse was convinced that so long as she was inside the cockpit of a walker, she was invincible. Neither blade nor blaster could harm her while she was ensconced within its armored cabin, allowing her to bring to bear firepower of titanic proportions upon the unfortunate souls who found themselves at the wrong end of her cannons.

The fact that the pilot was only three-feet tall would not matter in the slightest.

Ultimately, Ivixa had conceded the point, instead telling her little sister to at the very least, return home with heart still beating under its own power within her chest. After a final hug, Priesse was off to war, to fight alongside untrustworthy allies against a terrible foe which was plaguing the Unknown Regions.

Having her walker configured with a kinetic loadout, mounting two autocannons to the shoulder hardpoints, Priesse was giddy with excitement as the dropship landed, disgorging Bell Squadron along the outskirts of Port Sorrow. They had been warned in the briefings of the extreme risk of civilian casualties among the slaves being transported by the Maw, demanding that they check fire frequently. It went without saying that this would be a delicate operation, which wasn’t necessarily ideal for Priesse, but she wouldn’t have been given the opportunity to go on this mission if her superiors didn’t think she was capable of handling the extenuating circumstances.

Naturally, Priesse took that confidence to its not-so-logical conclusion, believing that even they thought she was the best walker pilot in the galaxy.

However, like everyone else, Priesse had to work her way through the ranks, which was why she was under Kandra Baize’s command.

“Alright Bells...there won’t be much room for ill-discipline today. There are multiple innocents and slaves in the Port. Once again, I remind you all once more that we will need to check our fire early and often. This could all go bad very quickly if we aren’t careful.” Kandra began. “Our objective is to clear out the defenses so that the infantry can penetrate the enemy lines and begin the work of extracting the innocents.” She continued. “Do not expect this to be easy or glorious and...we may have to hold back more than we’d like. Nevertheless, our work here will be critical to secure the freedom of the innocents. Am I clear?”

“Yes Commander!” The voices of Bell Squadron sang out in assent, with Priesse lending her own to the chorus.

“Good. Then let’s show the galaxy what Flower Power truly means. Let’s move, Bells!”

Spoiler: Loadout

• “Assagai” Sith Fast Striker AT-PW
  • Shoulder Weapon Hardpoint (2)
    • 20mm Mass Driver HV Autocannon
    • 20mm Mass Driver HV Autocannon
  • Offensive Utility Hardpoint (2)
    • Jamming Beam
    • Jamming Beam
  • Universal Gas Dissipation System (2)
    • Nagnol Gas
    • Pink Vapor
• Pilot Gear
  • DS-101 “Venture” Multipurpose Protective Attire
  • KC-77N Hybrid Pistol

 

[Darth Solipsis]

​

DARK LORD OF THE SITH | VOICE OF THE MAW

​

Rhand was once the ceremonial seat of the Brotherhood, the crown that pumped lifeblood throughout the Unknown Regions and supplied their raids with direction, purpose. An empty world, a place with little more than golden prairies, hidden temples, and Port Sorrow gloomingly setting against the backdrop of the land. The crown had always been Gehinnom, the Holy City, the Worldcraft that held their religious ceremonial seat before their crowning of Exegol. The enemy had come looking for glory, looking for purpose. They sought to free slaves, they sought to strike true and bring justice to the untamed unknown from their bubble of safety...

They wanted justice.. they wanted clout..

They wanted to avenge their shattered Sith Order..

They were deceived..

When the CIS arrived, they would find great Gehinnom anchored in orbit of the planet, loading slaves enmasse onto the Worldcraft from Port Sorrow. They were preparing for something, an exodus? A mission? All that remained clear was the vessels making safe the city, guarding the worldcraft from harassment by the enemy while their forces scouted out an empty world, one they would find easily traversed unchallenged. Port Sorrow was the final holding, the loading center that formed a key link in the slave distribution network throughout the Brotherhood's space. The Sorcerers had long spoken of this moment, their prophetic gifts had prepared them for the enemy now knocking at their doorstep. All was being made ready, all was as he had foreseen.

He felt the touch of the empyrean upon him, the mental visit of the Dark Lord of the Sith, his Shadow Hand, upon his psyche for a mere moment before the connection faded away. A vile smile spread across his face, his wicked lips parted in dark grimace as they stretched to inhuman lengths with a sadistic grin of satisfaction. Something tugged away at his attentions, a dark presence boiling on the surface within the darkness permeating the planet. The Dark Lord let his mind unhinge from his physical form, he felt his consciousness wash over the land, a tender link though the fog that touched upon the golden prairies from his lofty seat. His psyche projected upon the material, and so the chosen Sith'ari came to the former Emperor and spoke to him.

"Going somewhere?"

Darth Carnifex

​

 

[Kiff Brayde]

S T O R M
K I N G

Objective: Win Space Superiority over Rhand | Destroy Brotherhood Skyhook Facilities
Allies: Jason Breaker | Vemric Keldra | Verin Oldo
Enemies: Tu'teggacha | Dakrul | Halketh

After months of planning and preparation, Operation: Breaking Dawn was finally underway.

If Kiff was nervous, he certainly didn't show it. After all, it was his first major military operation as Minister of War. All glories would ultimately be his, but failures and mishaps too would be laid at his feat. There was a sort of unnerving feeling as the Storm King hurtled through hyperspace, the feeling one got standing on a cliff watching as a storm slowly crept towards them. They were in the calm, but soon it would be all chaos; lasers flashing, cannons booming, men and women dying. A chaos that Kiff both relished and hated, but one that he ultimately suffered through regardless.

"Fleet is reporting all systems functional, Minister. Hyperspace reversion in three minutes." The comm-scan officer's words were ones he had heard thousands of times throughout his career, but it was punctuated with one major difference: Minister. Kiff had held many titles; Captain, Sky Marshal, and High Marshal. Yet this would be his first action as Minister of War, supreme commander of the Confederacy's military forces bar the Vicelord himself. And the pressure of such a title was one that weighed heavily on his shoulders, to be sure.

Kiff nodded in response, his outward demeanor cool and nonchalant. Not the joking, stumbling drunk that he sometimes was, but not a whimpering wreck either. "Inform Lieutenant Commander Bragga to meet me at the fleet coordination table, and for Captain Gad to assume her place at the auxiliary bridge," Kiff ordered, turning to a Klatooinian bridge officer, who nodded in acknowledgement before walking off to send the messages. Gad was a new member to the crew of the Storm King, a Duros who'd been transferred from command of the CNS Dark Palisade to serve as third-in-command of the Super Star Destroyer, behind Bragga and Kiff himself. In any normal situation, such a transfer would be paramount to a demotion -- from commanding their own Star Destroyer to being second mate -- but given that the appointment was aboard the Storm King, which carried a certain amount of prestige on its own. So far at least, Kiff had not heard much complaint from Gad.

When he arrived at the fleet-coord table, he was surprised to see that Bragga was waiting for him already. "Word travels fast," Kiff remarked sardonically. The fleet coordination table was a massive holotable still apart of the central bridge proper, and only a few seconds walk away from the helm where Kiff had been only moments ago. In comparison, travel from the auxiliary bridge would've taken several minutes, the enormous size of the Star Dreadnought requiring both turbolift and hovtrain transit to commute in a timely manner.

Bragga gave a coy smile, her almond-shaped eyes narrowing with a hint of mischievousness, a trait she'd picked up from spending so much time around Kiff. "Lucky guess, Minister," she replied smoothly. "I get nav reports in auxiliary, too."

Kiff had to concede that. Half a hundred times this same routine had played out on the Storm King, so he couldn't fault Bragga. "If you got any precog left, try to focus it on guessing what our enemy will be doing," he sallied back as he flicked several switches, powering the fleet coordination table up to life. In times past, standing in the helm of the Storm King had been sufficient enough to command his forces, but with an expeditionary fleet as large as the one he was bringing, the fleet-coord table proved more efficient for managing their lines of battle. "Fleet Marshal Breaker has his First Task Force en route, according to nav they'll be a minute or so ahead of us at the reversion point," Kiff murmured as the fleet divided into the four different elements, commanded by the four different flag officers that would be present; Breaker, Keldra, Oldo, and Kiff respectively. "The 1st will have the vanguard, and their fleet-data network will give us a preview of what these savages call a navy."

Bragga nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. Her black hair, tightly woven into a regulation bun, reflected blue from the holo. "Likewise Oldo and Keldra's forces will most likely be behind our fleet in the reversion order." She remarked. Kiff frowned. He had wanted to send Oldo in to command atmospheric superiority over Port Sorrow, the focal point of the Confederacy's ground attack. Oldo was the type of commander who, when given an objective, would complete it down to the most minute detail. Keldra was more prideful, and Kiff had to guess that the Grand Marshal fancied himself a better commander than the Minister; not that there had been any shortage of that type in Kiff's career. Nevertheless, Keldra was far from incompetent, and so Kiff had deigned to keep him as their anchor for the orbital battle and the hammer that would strike their primary objective, the massive skyhook that fed slaves between Rhand's orbit and Port Sorrow.

"Get me comms with the Hellfire," Kiff shouted finally, and a comm-scan officer began to hail the flagship of Fleet Marshal Breaker. "Inform Fleet Marshal Breaker that the 407th is to remain in the rear, ten kilos down in the axial plane to allow for the rest of the fleet to revert. Deploy fighters and hold in a defensive position. The 402nd is to rush the weakest point of the Maw line in wedge formation, to break a gap in their lines so the cruisers and dropships of the 403rd, along with Oldo's forces, can enter in-atmosphere." The comm-scan officer shouted back that he'd sent the order, and Kiff returned to the fleet-coord table, placing both of his hands on the rim and leaning his weight against them. "Next we'll--"

"Hyperspace reversion in thirty seconds!" came the shout from the helm. Kiff gave an annoyed glance off his shoulder, displeased by the interruption, but otherwise said nothing. Just like he hadn't been able to fault Bragga, he wasn't going to fault the nav officer for doing their job.

"Alright," Kiff said finally. "Let's see what kind of welcome this 'Brotherhood' is going to give us."

The blue swirls of hyperspace glowed a bright white as the Storm King deaccelerated, and suddenly before them was the black of realspace, punctuated by white pinpricks of stars and in front of them the very large world of Rhand. A single blare from the ship's klaxons announced their arrivals, and throughout the bridge officers and droids began to move as sensors and systems were flooded with new data. "Enemy fleet report," a tactical droid sated, its robotic voice amplified artificially several times over. "Battlecruiser-grade capital ship - count: two. Star Destroyer-grade capital ship- count: two. Dreadnought-grade capital ship - count: one. Unclassified mobile station - count: one."

Kiff's eyes narrowed. Unclassified mobile station? "Scan, get me a deep read on that mobile station," he ordered before turning around to nav-com. "Comms, open channels. Hail all enemy ships." The officer at the nav-com station nodded, made several inputs into their monitor, then flicked a switch and nodded once more.

"Savages of the so-called Brotherhood of the Maw," Kiff began. "This is Kiff Brayde, Minister of War. You and your rogue state stand in gross violation of the galactic peace, and stand condemned for the enslavement of free peoples, and the murder of billions of innocent beings throughout the galaxy. Stand down and retreat to whatever hellhole you crawled from, and I'll only burn Rhand. Defy the Confederacy, and you will burn alongside it," Kiff promised before cutting the transmission. He hadn't come here to negotiate. With the comms silence, he turned towards his bridge crew.

Kiff fully expected that the Maw would accept their one chance at mercy. "Prepare all weapon systems, and target that dreadnought," Kiff ordered to the gunnery captain before turning towards helm and Bragga, who was now running fleet coordination. "I want reactors fed to full power. As soon as they fire, we accelerate as fast as we can. Our skirmish lines will be more effective against their large capital ships up close, where they can outmaneuver their weapon systems. Escort carriers are to launch their compliments and remain with Fleet Marshal Breaker's rear guard -- I want formations of two Vulture squadrons and one Droid Tri-fighter squadron to each fast attack corvette. I don't see starfighters on their ships, but if that's the case, moreso the better for us. Flak Corvettes, hug the Storm King's deflector shield bubble. Fast Attack Corvettes, fan so no more than two will be in a enemy star destroyer's cone of fire. Assault Cruisers, remain in the middle of your line and divert power to front deflector shields. You'll be primarily drawing fire. Once we go hot, weapons free," Kiff finished with a grandiose smirk at the last order. Officers began to relay his sudden flurry of orders, and Kiff turned with a single hand stroking his chin in a thoughtful expression, his eyes narrowing as he watched out the transparisteel window for the Maw to make the first move.

Spoiler: Fleet Composition

Flagship

• Storm King-class Star Dreadnought
  • CNS Storm King

42nd Skirmish Line

• x1 Argente-class Assault Cruiser
  • CNS Lady Talon
• x2 Bonteri-class Escort Carriers
  • CNS Starwalker
  • CNS Royal Flush
• x3 Terrus-class Flak Corvettes
  • CNS Cayano
  • CNS Bloody Smile
  • CNS Raptorflight
• x6 Trench-class Fast Attack Corvettes
  • CNS Eybel
  • CNS Varunn
  • CNS Firestar
  • CNS Wampa Rush
  • CNS Most Loyal
  • CNS Sayu

44th Skirmish Line

• x1 Argente-class Assault Cruiser
  • CNS Rex Lapis
• x2 Bonteri-class Escort Carriers
  • CNS Barbatos
  • CNS Coroner
• x3 Terrus-class Flak Corvettes
  • CNS Brightshine
  • CNS Fireshield
  • CNS Breathtaker
• x6 Trench-class Fast Attack Corvettes
  • CNS Bassan
  • CNS Dreamfly
  • CNS Illun
  • CNS Black Folly
  • CNS Sola’s Scar
  • CNS Mistrust

Spoiler: Fleet Actions

• The fleet has reverted from hyperspace. Orders have been issued, along with an ultimatum to the Brotherhood of the Maw.
• Weapon systems all ships have begun to charge.
  • ATX-19K Thandarian Mass Accelerator Cannon | Fully Charged
  • RMSD-M11 Vroeger Solar Ionization Batteries | 1/2 Posts
  • RMAD-M12 Bralsingr Dual Orbital Autocannons | Fully Charged
• Escort carriers have deployed full fighter complements.
  • Fighter complements are in formations of x2 Vulture Droid Mk III squadrons and x1 Colla-class Droid Tri-fighter squadron to each fast attack corvette.
  • Escort carriers are remaining with Fleet Marshal Breaker's rearguard.
• All ships are preparing to accelerate into close range with the Maw's line of battle.

​

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[Alars Keto]

From the very command center of Gehinnom, a transmission back would reach Kiff Brayde who seemed to be at the lead of the impressively put together Confederacy Fleet. The very force brought together for one purpose. War.

A drunken belch echoed into the comm followed by a high pitched squeal that rattled at the drums of all who would hear it's obnoxious piercing gale. "This thing on? Ay, who? You comin' here gonna glass the empty planet your people are invading? Weren't you gonna free the slaves?" A resounding spark of laughter filled the communications, flooding all other noise out as the marauders within mocked the 'civilized' Southern Systems fleet. The Vinesworn Marauder, Lieutenant among the Bloodsworn of mighty Zachariel Steelblood had little understanding of matters concerning naval combat. He'd been put in charge of the defense of Gehinnom due to his savagery, without their Super Star Destroyer or the majority of their naval assets in the vicinity it was a bit unnerving really. They were sitting ducks, their Holy City there exposed to the enemy for all to see.

"Tell you what mate. You turn around and leave killing to the killers, we'll come for you when it's all over. Burn Naboo and maybe take your people as slaves instead of outright kill em'. Only way you gonna do some damage is to come ere' and make me taste my own steel."

The transmission severed.

Only static remained. Silence permeated the chamber, the lieutenant chuckled under his breath as he turned away and knelt down to the chanting hologram of Dakrul in his dark sermons thoughout the Holy City. The Dark Gospel would be told, slaves sacrificed upon the altar in glory of the Three Avatars. There was little they could do to stop that now.

 

[Lunara Azure]

​

Wearing: Tempest Mantle | Tempestus​

Tagging: Gerwald Lechner | Kristyl Arenais | Dreidi Xeraic | OPEN​

​

There were moments that resounded around the galaxy, that you could feel pulsing out across the galaxy like a bell that echoing out. Moments of such import, such gravity, that the force itself seemed to catch its breath, to still. A moment where you could hear a bell toll, to hear a billion voices cry out, a choir that sang a single note of fear and panic before stilling, leaving a silence that spoke volumes more than the previous cry had.

The destruction of Csilla had been such a moment.

A call that had drawn the eyes of the galaxy to a dark void that had been spreading across the galaxy like an oil slick. Even breathing here, reaching out to the force left you feeling stained, dirty, like there was a darkness in the area that seeped into your very souls. The acts of a few people, the upper echelon of a nation had brought a darkness to the galaxy that was like nothing else that the blonde had ever experienced.

Was almost like nothing she’d ever experienced.

There were…events, moments in your personal history that shaped you as much as you tried to forget them, that made their way into the very depths of your being. Moments that made you who you were. For some people it might be meeting their hero, or a horrific event that had scarred them in some way. Watching their master die facing down the forces of darkness, a life they had tried to save slipping through their fingers. Everyone had an event or two that made them who they were.

For Lunara it was the death of her family, the burning of her planet.

Specifically the day she’d burnt her own planets, her home, to the ground in response to the Darkness.

People just like the Brotherhood of the Maw, cloaked in darkness and dripping in pain had descended on Zernia, on her peaceful home borne on wings of suffering. They had struck without warning, without any hesitation or thought, slaughtering those she cared about/ Her mother and father had died as their family home burned down around them, her father and mother in law had been executed, their deaths broadcast to the entire planet. Her husband, the man who’s impossibly annoying habit of sneaking out to drink with the guards, who couldn’t understand why anyone wouldn’t like him. The man who knew exactly what she was thinking, the fears that woke her in the middle of the night. The man who had died alone in the middle of a street, abandoned by those soldiers he’d drunk with, who had fled in fear at the coming Dark. In all the stories her mother had the hero stood alone against evil, defeating them through pure will power, through the righteousness of their cause. Through an act of god or unifiying the people. The stories were endless but they had one commonality, the heroes victorious.

The stories never mentioned the hero kneeling in the street, blood streaming from his rooms as his head bowed, long hair obscuring his face, the tears that dripped down his cheeks as the laughing shadows moved past him, not even sparing him a second thought.

It had been those like the Maw that had taken him from her.

Lunara knew that there were many many reasons that the Brotherhood were a blight on the galaxy, from the horrific practice of slavery to their willingness to genocide an entire species. The callousness with which they treated their opponents and those who disagreed with them.

But none of that mattered.

To her all that mattered was that they reminded her of those who had taken everything from her, who had left her a shell of her former self. She'd sacrificed the last of her family, those allies who'd tried to help her in order to gain revenge. Let her brother-in-law sacrifice himself to get her to the palace, so she could tear it down around those shadows, so she could burn the world that had let her family die.

Pale lips parted, soft words pulled from the past spoken to no-one present, to the ghost of the men who had died to give her revenge.

“Kill them, kill them all.”

​

​

​

 

[Rann Thress]

ALLIES: Gerwald Lechner Lunara Azure CIS

ENEMIES: Danika Leventis MAW

LOCATION: En Route to Surface in a Dropship

It was a long road back to being ‘good’, if ever Rann was such a thing. Rannon wasn’t that long ago and the wounds of that day hadn’t healed, if ever they would.
That day was the day Rann saw, at last, how far he had fallen. And that was the day he had resolved to right his course. He was not a Sith. He was not evil. Or, at least, he didn’t want to be. He wanted to be good. He wanted to do good. He wanted to be a hero. Not a villain, never a villain.

And so, he began his journey. Helping people, staying quiet, working his way back. And his journey led him here.

Rhand.

The Maw had destroyed the home world of the Chiss, and had to be brought to justice. To say nothing of the slaves they had in the hundreds of thousands If not millions. But that was why Rann was here. Good deeds, good works.

The road back led through Rhand, through the Maw. They brought nought but destruction and chaos to the galaxy and must be destroyed, but Rann would leave the meat of the fighting to others.

He would do his part. He would save, not kill, as many people as he could.

“Lord Commander,” he radioed to Gerwald Lechner, the Wolf. He still didn’t fully trust him in every situation, but Gerwald had Rann’s back in the Nether, against an army of the dead. So Rann trusted him to have his back now against the living.


Every fiber of Rann’s being demanded he tell Gerwald that He would be going where the fight was thickest, the glory most likely. Instead he offered something more simple. Mundane.

“I will follow your orders, Commander.” He said simply, breathing heavily, readying himself as they grew closer to their objective.

In his dropship, ready to be unloaded into combat, Rann surrounded himself with inactive battle droids all curled up in the fetal position. Although he wouldn’t try to go where the fighting was thickest at their objective, he knew better then to be unprepared. So he refused any organic soldiers be placed in his unit, opting instead for B-1s. Little more than cannon fodder.

“All Systems….Green.” Came an automated voice over the PA system.

“Final Approach….Beginning.” It blurted again.

Rann took another deep breath as he felt the shudder of release clamps signifying his dropships departure from its carrier. He hated space travel, and entering combat via dropping from anything. Far too likely to be shot out of the sky, obliterated without a second thought.


Rann counted the seconds until landfall, eager to avoid that fate.


​

 

[Blade Ice]

Post: 1
Objective: Lick the Pavement
Location: Port Sorrow, Rhand
Equipment: Orange Lightsaber (Fire) | Blue Lightsaber (ICE) | x8 throwing daggers | Poison Dagger | x6 thermal detonators | x8 Smoke Grenades | Brown MidNight Duster with Hood
Allies: Maestus | BoTM
Enemies: Darth Carnifex | Gerwald Lechner | Diocletian Kahmen’’a | Kyyrk | Zlova Rue | Jhira Mereel | Caltin Vanagor | Felix Aquila
Special Tags: Caltin Vanagor | Felix Aquila

​

---

Blade sat himself on a rock just outside the city gates, he knew the CIS would be coming knocking sooner rather then later. Yet still he sat just outside the front gates where the bulk of the war would no doubt be fought. Inside Slaves were being led to their slaughter and Blade himself had no particular interest in that. In fact, he disliked slavery but still he had no plans to interfere with the Maw. In fact, he didn’t hold much interest in most of the Maw’s plans. Yet he found himself allying with them for one reason they had vision and their leadership was not stagnant like some many other organizations in the Galaxy. It was so malleable and open to change that it fit the Rebel Sith’s nature so well.


So why here did he decide to show up of all places, his daughter Tegan Starfall the warlord of this world hadn’t even asked for his aid. It wasn’t even his granddaughter Cord Starfall ‘s disgruntled leave from the CIS that brought him here. No, he came here because loudly he had heard of the CIS’s boasting of producing the best swordsmen and force use in the galaxy. It stirred something inside the cynical old man, an urge he hadn’t felt since, since the days of original sith empire. Where the leaders proclaimed themselves the best and yet sat on there butts never willing to prove it.


That was what drove Blade the idea of proclaiming to be the best with out being willing to prove it. If he knew who sat on the Knights Obsidian Council, he would have called them all and challenged them. Yet he didn’t know who they were so here he sat waiting for these best of the best to show themselves. For the first time in a long time Darth Lucid had suited up for a fight. He hoped he wasn’t too rusty at this granted that never stopped him being stubborn and bull headed and fighting anyone that wanted a fight.


So, he sat there on his rock in front of the gates just waiting. He picked up a few small stones and tossed them just out of sheer boredom, seeing how far he could chuck them. His orange eyes burning dimly excited for the fight but patiently waiting. The rebel in him was really stirring and what fitting enemy the confederacy.

 

[Dreidi Xeraic]

Location: Aboard the C.N.S. Asajj Ventress
Allies: CIS
Enemies: Maw and slaver scum
Tags: Gerwald Lechner | Lunara Azure | Kristyl Arenais
Objective: Make sure prepped and ready to go on mission!
Equipment: Armourweave
​

"Lightsaber?" Dreidi spoke out loud as she tapped the reverse hilt Lightsaber on her hip, "check. Armourweave bodysuit?" Touching the soft fabric, it wasn't much armour but until she had designed her own armour, it would have to do. While there was standard armour as part of being a Knights Obsidian, Dreidi didn't want to conform to the standard appearance, she wanted to be individual and stand out. Her own thing was about standing out, also, she wasn't sure how the armour would affect her connection with the Force and the attempts at Magick. Vanya Aklin was a strict mentor but Dreidi was being stubborn and determined to gain the powers of the Witches, whose history she was learning more and more about. It was fascinating though incredibly dark and sad. "Right, so got everything I need, hopefully this mission will gain me some solid practical experience. Need to stand out from all the other Padawans/Apprentices if I ever want to be a Jedi Master, or be a leader!" Dreidi was still determined to be the greatest Jedi ever, it was a tad ridiculous but she was from a family of great Jedi and needed to find a way to prove herself.

Once Dreidi was happy that she had everything she needed, she rushed off to where the Lord Commander was setting up with the other Knights Obsidian, she noticed Master Lunara in the crowd. She remembered that people spoke highly of her but there was a silent rage inside her from what Dreidi could see, it was one she recognised that she had when she first came to CIS. She had been angry at the galaxy, angry at SJC and heartbroken at the collapse of her family but through therapy and a lot of support from Asaraa, she was able to overcome that, part of Dreidi wanted to talk to Master Lunara about her feelings but now wasn't the time and Dreidi wasn't the right person for that. She just hoped that Master Lunara got the help she deserved with the angry she was feeling.

As she thought about her own support system, something familiar echoed in the Force, a presence that was way too familiar and close to be coincidence. Pushing herself onto the tip of her toes to get a better look around, everyone was so tall it was hard to tell but she couldn't see her niece anywhere. Perhaps it was just because Dreidi was thinking about Kristyl that she felt her presence. No way the young girl would be here, she hadn't even started her combat training yet as far as Dreidi knew. No. It was just Dreidi and she would be ready to show off her skills in fighting these Sith slavers. Prove that she was someone to keep an eye on! As the Lord Commander spoke, Dreidi listened quietly, swallowing the butterflies that were building up in her stomach. Keep it calm, done this before, did something similar with the Lord Commander, I can do this. I can do this.

Before Dreidi could ask about whether they were breaking into teams or if this was a kind of do your own thing mission deal, the Lord Commander had wandered off into a dropship. Cursing herself, she was trying to plan things out too much, go with the flow. Follow the Lord Commander, follow Master Lunara if she was really lost in where to go and what to do. She had looked at the location before the mission, it might have only been once or twice, days ago. But she did all the required reading, Dreidi was just blaming nerves on why she was feeling like a lost lamb in all this commotion. This was why she was here though, experience, next time she would be better. Then the time after that better again, eventually she will look back on today and not recognise that person. Might be a bad thing, might be a good thing, no way to tell right now but she knew things would change after today and she would work hard to ensure things would be different for the best.

However, Kristyl's Force presence was still lingering. No way would she board the ship. Dreidi told her that she was going on a dangerous mission and to stay home with her mum. She was just over thinking it.​

 

[Felix Aquila]

S U R V I V E​

Allies: Caltin Vanagor
Enemies: Blade Ice / Maestus
Equipment:

• - Light-saber
• - Personal Shield
• - Armourweave Clothing

When felix heard they were heading for the Brotherhood of the Maw, he was ecstatic, war was not to be desired, but the slave pens of Rhand at the port of Sorrow. The thought of slavers and slavery always bought his mind back to the idea of family, notably his and what he had done to them in his youth. Maybe there was some information about one or two of them there? He had been keeping tabs on a couple of their locations for some time, but he had to double check their movements, purchase and sale to get an updated spread... to his surprise... his brother was supposed to be somewhere in the port of sorrow for sale. His younger brother had been one of the greatest sources of his guilt when it had come to enacting his plans... undoing some of that would help a lot.

On one of myriad ships that had moved to invade the location had Felix aboard it, the anxiety of the upcoming battle filled the air with a tangible ambiance, he had heard that there were a couple of people that were ordered to target Port Sorrow itself, control the means of entrance and exit, cut it off from the world as well as its reinforcements, save everyone there and leave little more than ashes behind. His ship was loaded with a couple dozen members of the more Veteran House Aquila Defense force, armed and armoured to at the very least be able to protect his ship.

"This is Felix Aquila, Making my approach down to Port Sorrow, landing pad E-424 and looking for some support."

his communication would reach out on an open channel to allies as Felix would begin to make his way towards the landing bay. His ship weaving in and out as other landing craft would make their way for their destination. Several battles seemed to have already began as Several turbolaser bolts came cascading into the path of his ship, slamming into the shields, barely deflected as Felix and his men would all but dive for the chutes. Clutching them as the lord would Don his first, heading for the exit and slamming the button to open the emergency door.

The Crash of the Laser Cannon blast into the nose of his ship rocked the transport before the fireball rolled across the back of the craft from tip to tail, enveloping everyone and everything in its path as only a handful of his men along with himself leaped out of the vehicle and into relative safety, free-falling for their location, weapons out as the broken shrapnel of what had once been reliable transport cascaded into the distance only to explode into another of the landing pads... it was something at least.

Pulling his parachute as late as he possibly could, the Lord would activate his lightsaber, cutting the cords from his person moments before he landed, entering a tumble until he was able to roll to his feet and begin charging for the entrance of the slaver's Den. The energy shield, like that of a knights kite shield would engage around his left arm as the warrior would begin to stalk the ground with purpose while the turrets of Port Sorrow focused skyward, his gaze was drawn to the man sitting near one of the many entrances, seemingly waiting upon a rock for someone to come along.

Felix was prepared, focused, the Rhandian sun hanging in the sky would begin to feel brighter as the colour saturation of the world around Felix would begin to brighten.

"We don't have enough to hold a position" The boy would speak freely on approach to the four survivors. "Find the Target, I'll deal with the Mission and clear this pad, come back with armed prisoners to hold it and we'll hit the elevator together." And, seemingly ignoring the man who sat there, throwing stones with nonchalance the soldiers would fan out to move past him. While Felix stalked towards him, clad in the armour and Sigils of the Confederacy and House Aquila.

"Are you someone I should worry about? Or Can I leave you be?"
​

 

[Laertia Io]

Arrived in: The Leviathan of Sev Tok

Starfighter Compliment: Nuetralizer TIE (5 Squadrons)

Accompanied by: Sarka Class Frigates (10)

Starfighter Compliments: Nuetralizer TIE (1 Squadron per frigate)

Wearing: Chitin of Darth Xiphos

Armed with: Constant Gardener


With: Maple Harte

Equipment: The Cane Without Fear

Vera Mina (Command Form, see bio)

Equipment: Regenerative Dress, Law Abroad

Westenra Mina (Lana Layne Configuration. See Bio for details)

Equipment: Piloting Catsuit, Bloodstone

Objective: All

Two hours prior...

Maple Harte was very hesitant to come aboard the Monstrosity she beheld in the blackness of Space.

It was finished. Laertia's nightmare weapon lived.

It reminded her of a giant black mechanical squid with blue running lights. It bristled with exotic Weaponry. She had never seen anything like it.

It made her want to weep for what Laertia had thrown aside to get it.

She piloted her black chromium 327 Nubian into one of its hangar bays. It loomed, it's enormous height making it a tower of death.

It even looked Organic somewhat. That was never a good thing, in her experience. It screamed Vong Tech.

Maple wasn't sure what she expected, stepping into a Battle Cruiser made by the only other Survivor of The Marksmen besides herself that she could find.

She could never have imagined Laertia designing a battleship. The woman who had once wanted nothing more than Moya, her ship and her bunnies had crafted a monster to reflect her own inner monstrosities.

In that sense, The Leviathan of Sev Tok could be said to be an analogy to Xiphos herself...a relentless, tireless abomination in black. Unforgiving to enemies, and a terror symbol even to allies.

Maple walked off the ship in her Living Armor, The Shroud of Madness, carrying Dashade Sonic Disruptors and her Lightsaber Staff. A number of Model 1's awaited on deck. Model 2's were filing into drop ships.

"Maple. Welcome. Glory awaits." The Model 1 said.

"Gerard right? From Sev Tok?"

"Another dinner in Hell." Gerard joked. "Full mobilization. Today my brothers and sisters shall gain vengeance for Csilla."

"And where do I fit into all this, today?" The chocolate haired Bounty Hunter asked.

"Xiphos wants you and Aunt Vera to lead the ground operation."

"Vera? Nine let that psychopath off her leash?" Maple asked as she walked with the silvery murderbot.

"We're all psychopaths today, Harte..." Gerard replied.

"Nine must be feeling generous."

"We ourselves predicted she would be more amicable to continuing her research with Mother once The Amalgam was dead or confirmed as such, especially since we haven't publicly worked with the cult since...since..."

"Kerest..." Maple said. "How is Laertia?"

"How would you be if you found out the person who you gave your virginity to killed your parents? She hasn't spoken. Hasn't taken off that Armor. Just gives us orders through her Force Magic." Gerard answered as they stepped into a turbolift.

"How long were you aware?" Maple asked.

"Some bros came back from Korriban who had worked with her side squeeze The Battalion. There was a massive shrine to this 'Darth Phyre's Her face was all over it."

"Your mother shouldn't even be fighting, Gerard." Maple warned.

"She was confined for two months afterward to make some kind of recovery. We couldn't hold her from the field indefinitely. And the Leviathan of Sev Tok won't launch without her express authority."

Maple grimaced. Xiphos was trying to run away from her problems by warfare.

"Couldn't you have picked a less fethed up stress reliever, Laertia?" Maple muttered to herself as the lift opened and she was ushered into the bridge.

It was a mix of Organic and Mechanical, almost techno-gothic in it's aesthetic.

Maple spotted Darth Xiphos in the chair, clad in her flesh, dark blue organic armor, face covered by a form fitted helm with an opaque visor. Next to her was one of the Westenra copies Maple recognized, a Pilot in the GA called Lana, wearing a metallic red and yellow catsuit. And next to her was the previously mentioned Psychopath.

She looked like a female Chiss, with dark red hair wearing a white, sleeveless catsuit.

Maple feared few but Vera was one of those few

"So good of you to join us, Miss Harte..." Vera Mina said, known in this guise as 'Rom'.

"So, Nine was comfy letting you loose?" Maple immediately asked.

"It is been a long journey of self discovery for me. Don't get snippy. It does you no favors." Rom replied.

"It's not being snippy. You get kill-drunk."

"Pot, meet Kettle..." Rom replied.

"Unlike you, I don't enjoy it..."

Xiphos wordlessly cut off any further debate with an angry hand gesture.

"Maple, Xiphos has requested you go with me to Port Sorrow to disrupt any and all attempts to offload slaves. She wants to sack the entire port. My beloved Sister will lead an assault on the Skyhook. Xiphos... Xiphos will remain up here, commanding the Leviathan."

"Laertia..." Maple said softly, slowly approaching the devastated woman.

"Laertia...say something...please..."

Xiphos remained silent, though she made no move while Maple touched her face plate.

"I can't pretend to understand how hurt you are...but even at your worst you didn't deserve that..." Maple said. "I'll help you kill her...if you want my help."

Xiphos stiffly shook her head. Maple sighed.

"When you're ready...I'll listen..." she said softly before scowling at a smirking Rom.

"Let's go." Maple grunted, leaving Xiphos on the Bridge. Rom and the Westenra copy followed her into the turbolift.

Present...

The Leviathan of Sev Tok jumped out of Hyperspace entering the Rhand System, accompanied by 10 Sarka Class Frigates, two of which immediately broke off for the planet, the other eight remaining with the Leviathan.

My Children... Xiphos called out to every Nuetralizer present via her technopathy.

Today we...we drown the wicked in their own blood. The Maw are heathens who offend the Gods in their cruelty. Show no mercy. Cut down these blasphemers and cast down their idols. Burn the whole place down if you must...

The holy city of the Maw hung over Rhand. Xiphos silently regarded it with a diamond focus, the Fanaticism to inflict a blemish on the Maw building in her. Especially as her view screen displayed the large ships of Tu'teggacha

The first words audibly spoken by Xiphos in weeks came out as a dry, cracked hiss over the intercom.

"All hands, enemy contact IMMINENT."

The terrible Leviathan unleashed a controlled swarm at the same time the Sarka Frigates did.

They were half the size of a regular Tie Fighter, but had the shape of an ancient automated TIE. They kept a wide berth of the Leviathan after launching. Since there were so many of them, more could be fitted on the decks.

Xiphos launched her entire starfighter compliment, loaded with the brains of her Model 1 children.

The Leviathan moved, already taking fire, but it's Singularity based defenses, courtesy of its Dovin Basals, were holding, and holding well as it got close enough to launch multiple salvos of Energy Torpedos, all scaled to capital ship grade, at the Nightmare Eternal, while the Sarka Frigates fired their composite beam cannons at the other ships around the Lead Destroyer, swarms of Starfighters speeding towards them at the same time...

Meanwhile...

"So...are you actually the Pilot version of Westenra operating in the GA or are you just moonlighting?" Maple asked as she geared up to go to Rhand.

The Westenra Copy looked at her as it plopped into the seat of its blood red X-Wing.

"Can't abide a mystery?" The Copy asked teasingly.

"Merely curious."

Rom, who was busily looking over a DC-17M, stopped and paused.

"I confess, I'd not thought to ask which 'you' I was talking to either, Sister."

"I forgive you." The Copy said teasingly before the Canopy closed over her.

"Can't keep track any more than I can with her, eh?" Maple asked scathingly as the Westenra Copy flew out of the Hangar.

"You're just jealous I have so many sisters..." Rom replied, sticking her tongue out at her.

Maple, curiously had no retort to that as they both went aboard the Silent Erika.

"Is this thing of yours stealthed?" Rom asked.

Maple, not wanting to tempt fate by using that James Marsden quote about the X-Jet, simply nodded and lifted out of the hangar bay once she got in the cockpit, catching Gerard giving a thumbs up as she lifted off...

 

[Keilara Kala'myr]

Ziare Dyarron, the little shadow-killer
COMPNOR (ISB) Junior Agent, Nite agent | Slave of the Maw​

Objective: BYOO, try to survive (Maw side)
Location: Gehinnom, High Above Rhand
Equipment: N/A || OPBC-01m
Tag: N/A

[ Cry ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~"Telepathic" communication ~ ​

My legs barely reached the ground as they took me. After each step, my head became more and more strained backwards because I didn’t want them to tear my hair out. I tried to hold myself to my feet to prevent them from carrying me, but… but at such times the man behind my back hit my broken ribs every time. After the third, I was already screaming in pain. The world turned around me because of the nausea caused by the pain, tears stung my eyes. Suddenly we stopped and I felt cold metal on my neck.

"Just scream and I will first cut your throat so that you can survive, and then I will cut off your tongue!" he hissed and then hit my ribs again.

In vain I tried to squeeze my lips and screamed. It gripped my hair even harder, I felt the cold on my skin, which sank into my neck, and then the blood was hot as it dripped down my neck and chest. However, the cut did not occur because a deep voice stopped it because this wasn't their task. I don't know who it was, I didn't see it. Moments later, we entered a room where there was dim light; but I still saw it as one of the torture chambers.

They pushed me to the ground before I could look around. Instinctively, I would have softened the fall with my hand, which became so painful, and after a scream I lay on the ground in my own blood, crouching, sobbing in pain, humiliation. I just wanted it to finally end and they left me alone. I wanted to go home to Bastion, the planet I considered my new home.

"The princess doesn't like the service!" the man laughed in a mocking voice, probably not knowing how close he was to reality with my noble title and rank.

I still couldn’t see who was here, I didn’t understand what he was saying. But they grabbed my hands again and threw me on the table in the middle of the room. I saw the straps, tried to escape, but they wouldn’t let me. I kicked, hoed, tried to hit them, but they were stronger and were able to strap me down the table, and after that I was unable to do the slightest movement afterwards. I tried, but the straps were too tight. And the crazy man reciprocated my disobedience with another hit to my stomach and my broken ribs. I tried to scream, but one of the straps was right on my lips so no sound could be heard from me except painful groans.

The world turned with me and everything began to darken, I could only vaguely see the ceiling. I felt something being pushed to my neck, but so far I have finally lost consciousness due to the pain and the darkness embraced me…

 

[Srina Talon]

F O R T R E S S A
[X]
Allies: CIS
Enemy: Maw
Enemy Engagement Status: [ OPEN ]
Nearby Ally Tag: Darth Empyrean
Location & Intent: Currently on the Fortressa - Headed toward the Docking Bay (Intent on disabling the Space Elevator from the Port)
_________________________________________________________​

“You may decline, Maliphant. Be at my side, only, if you choose this fight.”

It was a long-dead conversation of dreaming whispers that lingered in the back of her mind while mercurial orbs watched the stars peel away from the vast empty in blinding pinpricks. They knew. She could feel that simple fact with the finality of a silent drumbeat in the pit of her heart. The beastly bays of the Maw and their ilk had their eyes, their little spies, and would no doubt anticipate the approach of Confederate Fleets. They would respond with equal, if not, prodigious hostility. Lithe fingers lingered on the cool transparisteel window for a moment. The ghostly Exarch was distant.

As if she could see what would be; what had not yet come to pass.

If this went poorly?

It could be Csilla all over again.

Srina could imagine the remnants left behind. Floating, above a dead world. Suspended like cloud-veiled turquoise with an eternal hand that held the invisible chain of the debris trapped in orbit. Too far to decay. Too close to avoid. She could almost see the carbon streaks that scored the sides of derelict ships. The void would be full of glittering metallic shards that had once been vital spaceship components, complete with human, and alien bodies drifting in the wreckage. The velvet backdrop for an impromptu graveyard would remain laced with irreverent cosmic energies that danced on and on in the winkles of space-time, singing their endless songs, neither noticing, nor caring, for the Confederacy, the Maw, or any of their brief—Petty wars.

Time would not hold this moment.

It would exist only now. Only here, and only, for the souls they had come to release. For the men and women that would pave the way in their own blood. Sacrifice. Liberty and basic freedoms were not granted to those without the strength to rise up and fight for it. No matter how much the Confederacy had turned inward in years past, there was no doubt in her mind, that they would always be here. That it would always come to this. The Bryn’adûl were of equal threat and their time would come.

But this?

The Brotherhood of the Maw?

They were the anathema for everything the Confederacy stood for. The reason the Droid Nation had crossed the galaxy to see Eshan regain her independence from the Mandalorian Empire. The great nation slept. Waited. Just as it had been before; It was again. History repeated itself on an endless loop and the Confederacy could sleep no more.

Srina could sense the presence of someone beside her and a seemingly delicate hand rose. She waited to feel him. The pale, quiet comfort, that caused the golden rings they wore to resonate. A soft sigh escaped her and she leaned back against the form of Darth Empyrean . Briefly. There were no words capable of describing the myriad of emotions he stirred within. The last time they had drawn blades together had been on Atrisia. She’d nearly lost him, and he her.

It was worth it then.

It was worth it now.

“They say that darkness cannot drive out darkness, yet, what recourse have we when the light wanes? We will fight with the tools the Force has provided. Fire with fire. Flame with flame.”, she murmured, twining her fingers around his. The small earwig that kept her in constant communication with their troops was firing off updates so quickly that she knew the battle was beginning in earnest. Her Voph, Kyyrk , had already reached the surface of Rhand and her wolf Gerwald Lechner had begun deployments. “Until there is nothing left.”

Perhaps, nothing left of any of them.

The moment was interrupted by a grating voice that caused her spine to stiffen. Primrose lips curled at the kiss of her mouth, briefly, in such a way that expressed intense dislike. Daegon Corvinus was the newly elected Vicelord of the Confederacy. A traitor, a betrayer. There would be a long pause before she responded to the foppish bureaucrat that dared order her around. It was deliberate. He would need all of his faculties to deal with her—Let alone the Maw. “It will be done.”

Simple words. Simple response, but ah, the hatred and disrespect that could be levied in silence.

She muted her end of the comm.

“Our goals align. For now. Mark my words, my love, I will eviscerate him one day.”

The Exarch released the pale-haired man beside her and stepped toward the portal that would lead to the docking bays on the Fortressa. It was a ship made for war. She could sense something distant on the horizon. Something deep, dark, and were she the Sith that Darth Metus was she might have recognized the subject matter of a dark ritual ( Dakrul ) that was pouring from the glom.

As it stood? She was not. All she took with her was a sense of deep foreboding and the phantom. cloying taste, of something metallic in the back of her throat. Sharp, like raw copper.

Neither side would leave this unscathed.

Spoiler: Equipment

Mudarra, The Lover's Rings
Mothers Wrath
The Ring of Aspiration
HG-54 "The Vora" Class Hand Cannon
Terentatek Body Gloves
Obsidian-type Strike Armour II
CIS Holocomm Device

Possible Ships/Drop Pod/Droids:
Wolves' Curse-class Stealth Frigate
Jackal Pods
IG-100 Mk. II Series Magnaguard
BR1-Series Battle Droid

 

[John Locke]

Wearing: Would you believe, a suit?​

_________________________________________________

THE FORTRESSA​

Tagging: Daegon Corvinus | Allyson Locke
_________________________________________________

There was something about the hum of a command centre in the middle of a conflict that was like nowhere else. The crisp efficiency of a well-trained staff performing the duty that they’d trained for, the taste of data flying through the air. John only had to close his eyes to sense it, those strings of information that wove a spider web around the room, a web that extended out over the fleet that surrounded them, the troops on the ground. Each member of the Confederacy was a link in that chain, that spider’s web that reached out over space and the planet before them. Each piece of communication, each shared piece of sensor data processed and redirected by the men, women and droids in this room. It was a staff, a system that had been created over time, days and months of training to create a weapon that was perhaps more deadly than any of the ships that sailed through the void of space or any troop on the ground. Information in the hands of the right leader could be more deadly than any weapon.

In the hands of the right leader.

The Confederate military had forged its blade in the heat of conflicts across the galaxy, shaped and molded into a weapon that even the most mighty of nations rightly feared. It had been drawn today, unleashed at the Brotherhood of the Maw.

Only...a weapon was only as powerful, as capable as the hand on its hilt. The hand that guided it, drew and unleashed it.

And that hand was an unknown quantity.

Daegon Corvinus. Vicelord Corvinus.

The man was an unknown quantity. He had proven to be a shrewd enough politician and negotiator, a capable businessman, he would have to be to oversee the rebuilding of Thryferra from a burnt husk of a world to the thriving economic powerhouse that it was today. But, today, there was no negotiation, no discussions that could be manipulated and led. Politics had little place on the battlefield. Daegon Corvinus wasn’t a soldier, had never led men into battle and now...now an entire war machine, thousands upon thousands of sentient beings had gathered on his word to be unleashed upon the nation that he had marked as an enemy.

The sword was ready, but was the man wielding it upto the task?

The new Vicelord had never led a fleet or an army into combat before. The lightsaber at his belt marked him as a warrior, more than capable of holding his own in a fight, but to lead me, to send them to die as necessary, to inspire them to live and fight against all odds, that was completely different than the skills needed to fight by yourself, the skills needed to survive in the midst of a fight. Dark-eyes shifted to settle on the man, considering him carefully as he spoke, a flurry of commands spilling from his lips as the dark-haired exarch slid his hands into his pockets, a practised familiar gesture he barely had to consider as he thought. He was willing to watch, to see what the Vicelord was made out of. He had acted when he needed to, had led them here to face this target that deserved their wrath.

John hadn’t grown up in luxury, hadn’t grown up with the opportunity that much of the galaxy had but the freedom to make his own way had been one thing he knew that he’d had. The freedom to choose, to make his own way for better or for worse. John had seen what people had done with that choice, the heights to which people could reach, or the depths to which they’d fall. He’d seen the selflessness of which people were capable of, giving up everything to protect strangers but by a flip of the coin he’d seen those who were willing to sacrifice countless numbers for their own aggrandisement.

It was the high and the low of choice, but at least it was something they’d chosen. The Maw had taken that away from countless people, had taken their destiny from their hands. For that reason alone they deserved to fall, for that reason and many others the CIS had drawn its blade and the Exarch would support the Vicelord in wielding it.

The man’s eyes started to glow a bright azure as he reached out to that spider’s web of data.

This, this was his battlefield.

​

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Operation Cinder: Space Battle​

Location: Gehinnom, High Above Rhand
Allies: Alars Keto
Foes: Jason Breaker | Kiff Brayde | Laertia Io

It might be embarrassing for the War Minister to realize that, by the time he arrived in the Rhand system and gave his ultimatum, other CIS forces had already gone in guns blazing. The impact of offering a chance to "stand down and retreat" was somewhat stolen when it was delivered to a fleet that had been engaged in battle several minutes earlier. Oh well; it wasn't like the Brotherhood would have listened anyway. Kryll was no world-swaying orator, but all the same he'd managed to say it best: come 'ere. And the CIS, for all their minister's grandiloquent and condescending bluster, had surely expected nothing less.

With his fleet actively taking railgun fire from Jason Breaker 's 1st Task Force, Tu'teggacha paid little heed to enemy comms in any case. The large and teeming ships of the Task Force made the War Minister's fleet, let alone the Taskmaster's own little force of Mawite defenders, look small... but then, the War Minister had brought in a Super Star Destroyer, the second fielded by the CIS so far given the presence of the Asajj Ventress. And then there was the Fortressa, that colossal mobile command center, also now looming over the stellar battlefield. Such vast, overwhelming force...

He was glad the Fatalis was in drydock. It would not have survived against three SSDs.

The hopelessly outnumbered Mawites - Tu'teggacha was getting tired of even thinking that phrase, but it was pretty much always true in this war of their small core of believers against the whole galaxy - had but one advantage: if the CIS destroyed Gehinnom, they would be murdering tens of thousands of the people they had come to save. That allowed his four Star Destroyers, a smaller battle group than a single line of the 1st Task Force alone, to fall back behind the bulk of the asteroid-turned-station. It was so vast that it could shield all of them from a frontal assault at once. The CIS would have to get closer in order to engage them.

Of course, they did not change position unscathed. The 1st Task Force did not appear to be concentrating their fire at any target in particular, just sort of generally blasting away in the Maw's vague direction, but those powerful mass drivers and hypervelocity cannons were the sort of weapons whose projectiles just kept going until they hit something. Point defense systems on Gehinnom and the four Star Destroyers lashed out, doing their best to intercept the deadly radiation warheads of the Covenant-class hypervelocity cannons, but there wasn't much they could do against the RMMD-M5 heavy guns except trust in their shields.

Impacts rippled across the Nightmare Eternal's deflectors like stones skipping over a pond, and Tu'teggacha's facial tendrils lashed in agitation. He was no true believer in the Mawite dogma of a coming paradise, but he did trust in the Dark Voice and his great plan. Sometimes, however, he wondered if that plan involved the Ebruchi himself surviving to the end... or if he was just another tool wielded by the secret order that ruled the Maw from the shadows, a tool that would be willingly expended at the proper time in service to their schemes. He would never find out until the day he was truly forsaken. Which might be today.

Was he being cast aside, left to die? How would he know before it was too late?

The relatively long range and the unfocused fire of the 1st Task Force meant that no hits came through to armor yet, and the four Star Destroyers escaped to lurk at the dark side of Gehinnom with weakened shields but no serious damage. That wouldn't last, of course. As soon as the CIS closed in, taking away Tu'teggacha's ability to play ring-around-the-death-station with them, the overwhelming firepower they could bring to bear from all directions would make that initial salvo look like a child throwing flowers at a wedding. They would have to use whatever advantages they could in order to survive until the slaves were loaded.

But could they possibly escape when all that was done? Only if the CIS held back.

What they lacked in capital firepower and support ships, the Brotherhood could somewhat make up for in fighter strength. The starfighters that launched out of Gehinnom's hundred small-craft hangar bays, in addition to the fifty squadrons aboard each Praetorian, were truly legion. There were swarming Darkshears, their near-braindead clone pilots puppeteered through smokestone implants by Heathen Priests aboard the Holy City. Their goals were simple: to screen more valuable craft from enemy interceptors and flak, and to overcome enemy starfighters through sheer numbers, their huge squadrons bogging them down with fire.

Second most numerous were the Thornwave fighters, piloted by eager marauders hungry for glory. Their bomblet generators allowed them to take out multiple incoming foes efficiently, and their plasma cannons were excellent for melting armor beneath shields their blaster cannons had already softened up. They helped to screen and protect the Doomsayers, specialized fighter-bombers. These craft targeted enemy fighters with concussion missiles, but their true purpose was to use their ion cannons to disable fighters, corvettes, and even frigates with massed fire, leaving them vulnerable to boarding or destruction by bomb payloads.

Last and deadliest were the Divine Eagles, the infamous elite heavy fighters of the Maw. Their beam cannons and proton bombs, along with their thick armor, made them extremely potent craft in a firefight against ships of all sizes (well, probably not the Confederate SSDs even en masse, so most sizes). But it was their pilots that made them truly a force to be reckoned with. They were flown by Knyghts of the Maw, Force-sensitive marauders who had been brutally trained and cybernetically augmented into killing machines. Mechanically interfaced with their ships, they could react in milliseconds to threats the Force told them was coming.

They could stack up well against any ace squadrons the enemy had to offer.

As the fighter screen deployed, resembling nothing so much as a sky-darkening swarm of locusts buzzing around a misshapen ear of corn, Tu'teggacha took note of another new arrival: a strange biomechanical craft, drifting through space like a frenzied, half-droid hellsquid. The Taskmaster was familiar with the Force presence of its commander: none other than Laertia Io , always dogging at the Maw's heels. Her frigate battlegroup would be trouble, and her swarm of starfighters would surely make heavy contact with the Brotherhood's own fighter swarm... but it was the Leviathan's energy torpedo barrage that was most concerning.

She certainly wasn't wasting any time. The poor War Minister was left behind again.

Of course, her enthusiasm could easily become an error if other CIS ships didn't move in to support her. Her frigates outnumbered the Mawite star destroyers, but they were tiny by comparison, and fully exposed to the heavy fire of massive orbital autocannons at close range. All four star destroyers turned on the Sarka frigates, firing all of their formidable heavy weapons freely, ready to clear the chaff before beginning the main harvest. Meanwhile the two fighter swarms clashed like rival insect hives, filling the space around Gehinnom with laserfire and drifting wrecks in seconds. Still the energy torpedo barrage came on...

The Nightmare Eternal rocked beneath the impacts, several explosions piercing its railgun-weakened shields and scorching upper bulkheads. Gun batteries were damaged, but combat effectiveness was not too greatly impeded. The Leviathan's attacks were something they would simply do their best to weather while they cleared out the little frigates attacking them, using the Doomsayer squadrons' ion cannons to attempt to drain their shields before the heavy weapons of the Star Destroyers slammed into them. If no support closed in soon, Tu'teggacha reasoned, they might be able to pick off a great many frigates...

Spoiler: Fleet Composition / Actions

Gehinnom, the Holy City	Orbiting, Preparing to receive slaves
Nightmare Eternal, a Praetorian-class Destroyer	Attacking Sarka Frigates, Minor Damage
Forge of Laments, a Praetorian-class Destroyer	Attacking Sarka Frigates, Shields Weakened
Gnashing Teeth, a Crucifix I-class Destroyer	Attacking Sarka Frigates, Shields Weakened
Mournfang, a Crucifix I-class Destroyer	Attacking Sarka Frigates, Shields Weakened

 

[Dimitri Voltura]

ALLIES: CIS & Allies
ENEMIES: BOTM & Allies
ENGAGING: Halketh (SOONᵀᴹ)
GEAR: In Bio.

Oo~OMENS~oO​

The news had been troubling.

As Operation: Breaking Dawn was being put together, reports had filtered in from the greater Galaxy. Among others were the news of Irveric Tavlar 's assassination and the New Imperials' counter-attack on Carlac. The reports were vague as all Shadowfeed relays often are, but one thing had been clear - it had been orchestrated by a man Dimitri had dealt with before.

Ever since that fateful day on New Imperial-held Bastion, Dimitri had been distant to everyone - including Eenia Vahn , despite the bond they shared and her involvement in it all. And she had resented him for it.

For not trusting her with the darkest part of him.

For so long, the Energy Vampire had hidden what and who he was. One thing he was certain of - despite the tranquil, well-respected life he led on Naboo - if the Confederacy had to truly know the full extent of it, then he wouldn't be as accepted and respected within their borders. He had hidden it for nigh on a century now, had even tried to shun it entirely. Even started to believe his own lie. But there had been one that had flayed open those delusions like a vulture on a carcass and had laid them bare for Dimitri to behold.

The Lord Halketh had been as ill-fitted in his allegiances as Dimitri was. Both were wolves playing at being sheep. Kindred spirits. And it had taken the unceremonious attack on his psyche to remind him that a Dragon was never meant to lead a placid life.

It was meant to raze worlds.

As the great Confederate Armada hurtled through time - minutes away from emerging into real space - Dimitri sat silent in one of the meditation chambers aboard the Ventress. The struggle within him was disconcerting. He had come to the crossroads once more - duty and honour or being true to his nature? He had a responsibility - not only to those he served, but to Eenia as well. She had been a blessing, but he had a sinking feeling that she would also be his downfall.

As the war waged within himself, a distant connection suddenly sparked into place.

"I do hope you've considered my offer."

Dimitri's eyes remained closed, but his head lifted at the familiar voice in his head. That brief connection that had been made in the heat of battle had remained in the darkest recesses of his soul.
"Kezec. Good to know you still breathe." he answered in kind. "How about we discuss that over some tea? I am on my way over as we speak. Three minutes and I'll be at your door." An unspoken cordial understanding between two creatures of carnage.

The battle was still being fought within his being. The closer they got to Rhand, the harder the Dragon fought to be free from its chains. Dimitri did not know how he would respond to his adversary that also happened to be kin. Would duty prevail or would the Hydra finally break free once more?

One thing was for certain, however - someone had to keep the Vulture's attention from the Confederates on the planet below.

And Dimitri was the only one that knew how.

 

[Diocletian Kahmen’’a]

Objective: Begin Sniping enemy targets
Location: Outskirts of The Grand Bone Temple, Rhand
Equipment: Ship Armour Scimitar Railgun Carbine Rifle Thermal Detonators BARC Speeder

Allies Tag: Jhira Mereel Khora Kyyrk Ghost "Frankie" Sterling & CIS

Enemy Tag: Dakrul & BOTM


Diocletian had been prepping his Railgun for sniping any targets outside the ominous Temple by attaching a scope. He would use this vantage point to pick off enemy combatants one by one. He would normally stalk and then overpower enemies if he could. But these are no ordinary enemies, these were genocidal Force Users, that needed more tactical thought than blind violence. Which is why he planned to snipe from here and then go join the physical fighting afterwards if there was any to be had.

After all, he knew better, much better than he did when he just began his career. Soon, he slowly became aware of his HUD peeping a proximity warning into his ear. The signature was CIS, so the instinct to whirl around and shoot eased off but only just. But still, he did briefly aim his gun at Frank before lowering it again. The Ubese shrugged slightly at the question, so far very little has happened, well, there is a very ominous sensation coming from the temple as it is. That counts as something.

<“Nobody has exited the Temple yet, nor has there been any orders to go in,”> Diocletian answered turning back and checking his scope crosshairs for targets. <“But that better change.”>

He did invite Frank to join him though. Two people are better than one after all.

 

[Prennis Keeoli]

MEDICAL STANDBY ~ ABOVE PORT SORROW (on Resplendent Dawn)
~ ROBE-SCRUBS, GAUNTLET, AMULET, SIDEARM ~
~ Kyrel Ren (flying towards landing pad) + open for tags! ~
​

: || I don't think this is your specialty, miss. || :

"Shut the bloody hell up, Mountbatten."

: || Right away, miss. || :

Prennis signed as she finished making the last cot bed laid out on the floor of the cargo bay. All medical stock had been moved into the archives during the jump from Naboo to Rhand by her bodyguard Heret Jerra and his team while she had gotten to work preparing the hangar for a sleepover of sorts.

As if on cue, the Confederate officer strode into the hold, and took to leaning on a section of hall accessible between two mattresses. "Why is he like that?" he asked, motioning up at the ceiling to indicate the Dawn's AI before crossing both arms again across his chest.

Shrugging to reveal more than her not knowing, the Lorrdian stood. The additional connotation hung in the air because he didn't, couldn't, pick up on the nuanced kinetic communication: guilt and nerves and anguish all rolled up into one destructive emotion. "Regardless, he's right. I'm not a...trauma nurse." Jerra rose an eyebrow, his arms constricting tighter around his chest. "I mean, of course I'm a trauma nurse, but I'm not a," she paused to tap a finger to her temple, "trauma nurse." And, of all the kinds of potential patients, freed slaves were apt to be the most emotionally distraught. She just wasn't ready to sedate then all, even if she had more than enough doses on board.

It was Jeera's turn to shrug, not cold but practical. "There's so much know-how out there, doc. You can't have it all."

Prenn flashed a mischievous smile as she approached, then stepped past, Jerra. She stopped in the doorway to the rest of the ship and patted his forearm. "As I've heard the marine boys say," she winked, "bet."

Jerra snorted in feigned annoyance, but couldn't hide his smile afterwards. "Whatever," he replied, following her halfway the medical suite until he broke off to check on the navcomputer in the cockpit. Piloting was largely automated, taken care of by Mountbatten's databanks and core functioning. Still, the guard sat down in the pilot's seat. A little organic monitoring of real-time status never hurt anyone. If humanoids could benefit from the help of artificial intelligence, then surely the dynamic went vice versa too—especially when the AI was gaining independence. The more it got to be human, the more it was susceptible to their error, or at least that equation stood to reason. He tuned his earpiece into CDC comms and kicked his feet up onto the console, ready to wait.

Port Sorrow had grown in size in the viewport by the time some operator called :: Lieutenant Jerra, do you copy? ::

His legs kicked back to the floor almost on their own volition. "Yep, clear copy. Go 'head."

:: I'm patching LZ coordinates through to your frequency. :: Sure enough, a beep, beep chimed off from his wrist gauntlet. :: That pad had been secured. Land behind the barricade. ::

"Aye, over an—"

:: Oh, one more thing, sir? Tell the doc she'd better brace herself. It's real nasty down here. ::

Well.

Jerra'd never say it, but that was the curse of a civilian nurse practitioner who couldn't stop following the military into war.

Mostly because she was too stubborn to let a little, or a lot of, danger sway something from being important to her. And also because that was why he was here, and he kinda liked this detail. It was chill, except when it wasn't. Then it was really not chill.

"May I, MB?"

The AI activated the local intercom. : || Only if you won't crash, sir. || :

Smirking at Mountbatten's dry sense of sarcasm, the Zabrak man took the yoke and began to guide the corvette down into the Port. As they flew towards one of the gigantic landing pads, Jerra spotted a black figure waiting nearby the disk. No barricade. Glanced down to his wrist, he double checked the designation that had been sent to him. Sure enough, it was here; this one. "Who the hell's that guy?" he called out to the AI.

: || Scanning, sir. Please standby. || :

"We're supposed to be landing in an active warzone! I can't just standby!"

: || Preliminary signature tracking does not place him as Confederate. || :

"Known friendly?"

: || I have not had the time to confirm nor deny such a hypothesis, sir. || :

 

[Talon Kyber]

THE AKKADESE
MAW BASESHIP
RHAND ORBIT
Tu'teggacha Marlon Sularen
Daegon Corvinus Kiff Brayde ​

"They will not come."

Captain Kyber held his force pike aloft in open challenge. Cruel laughter bubbled from the black conclave of sorcerers he parleyed for supernatural insight. Only a twisted fascination with occult powers stayed the pirate lord's hand from casting down their abominable fane deep in the heart of his ancient flagship.

"The trailing sectors abandoned this galaxy long ago to our mercy," Talon echoed his own words, "They will not come."

More laughter. He staggered to one knee, suddenly overwhelmed with visions of a massive Confederate armada emerging from hyperspace. It was so real Talon could taste the stench of blaster fire. Crimson orbs affixed to a heavy blast helm pierced the gloom not quite able to grasp all the subtleties of the sorcerers' unsettling ambulations.

"Enough!"

He brought the force pike crashing down on the closest sorcerer with enough force to split most humanoids in half but the illusion only faded into smoke as his crude blunt weapon passed harmlessly through empty space. Their wordless laughter built to a crescendo before it all stopped in too perfect synchronization. Now it was the eerie silence which unsettled him.

"I know then what must be done."

Whenever Talon emerged from the sorcerer's lodge he bore another deep scar. This unholy pilgrimage was no different. Now that he found himself alone he tugged at the breath mask around his face until slate grey skin and deep obsidian eyes were revealed. Otherwise Captain Kyber seemed humanoid, perhaps even near-human. Yet by the time he reached the destroyer's bridge his pirate mask was back on for he'd risen to such black heights he could no longer afford to be just a man for any span worth reckoning.

"About damn time!" his tof quartermaster cursed, "Karabast there's a lot of em."

"There's more of us."

They both shared a look at that reminder. While the Akkadese drifted on low power such an aging capital barely registered as a sensor ghost but once the Confederacy pushed deeper in system a small horde of pirates emerged from the Perann Nebula in close proximity to Gehinnom and pushed out past the Brotherhood's main battle lines to engage CIS vanguard forces.

"Signal your hierophants to make ready the final shipment slaver," Talon opened a channel with the Nightmare Eternal, "My holds could still use more laser fodder."

Spoiler: Most Wanted

• Recusant-class Light Destroyer (baseship)
• 3x Neutron Star II Bulk Cruisers
• 4x Buccaneer Frigates
• 2x Vakbeor Cargo Frigates
• 3x Hornet Carriers
  • Thornwave Starfighters
• 6x Marauder Corvettes
• 12x Tarantula Spider Cruisers

Spoiler: Summary of Actions

• Pirate clan warships crewed by mawite buccaneers emerge from the surrounding Perann Nebula and join the Brotherhood battle lines around Gehinnom.
• Smaller attack ships advance to form a large defensive screen attempting to blunt the main CIS assault group.
• Bulk cruisers and cargo frigates holding position with the Akkadese while their final shipment of slaves is delivered from Rhand.