Dominion Built On Ashes | Dominion of Dorin | NIO

[Djorn Bline]

V E N O M _ S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
BYOO
STARRING | "THE BOSS" Irveric Tavlar

"Things have changed, Boss."

That was the understatement of the year, much has changed and everyday it just seemed to be getting worse or better. If ten years ago someone would have told him that a sect of Imperials rebelled against the crimson blade and proved their iron impervious to the Sith, he would not have believed it. At that time it was the peak of the Sith's dominance in the Galaxy. Their empire created on the labor of those that worshipped them, erecting statues and monuments in their glory. A city of gold, but what value did it have in the end?

Nothing. Nothing to those that saw the truth.

Everyday something changed, something new replaced the old or challenged traditions to become the new norm. Their war against the Sith was promised despite the few losses they suffered, a war that would change the Galaxy for good.

Although the metamorphosis he experienced did him no good, yet he believed otherwise. It changed him physically and mentally, the loss of his left eye and arm as well as the dynamic shift in his character.

"So what comes after the war?"

 

[Arjant Clevenger]

H I E R O P H A N T
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
BASTION
IMPERIAL ASSEMBLY

According to his spies from the Observation Unit of CompForce, there was much benefit to gain from Dorin. At first glance, many would scoff at developing any hospitable infrastructure from the black holes and unstable gas that would require most species to wear a breathing mask to facilitate breathing. He, personally, wouldn't want to live on that kind of rock. Flora and other species, however, thrived on the planet being unique to most specimens.

Life always found a way to continue.

But he didn't care for those things. Dorin had much value to be reformed into a world focused heavily on industrial output to improve the increasing war machine of the New Imperial Order. Of course, that meant disregarding the native population that so happened to resist the rays of the Iron Sun. Their culture, their way of life? Meaningless, something that would have to be painted out and be replaced with a generation of Kel Dors boasting the ideals of Imperialism.

"I, for one, believe that Dorin has some potential to benefit for the great good of this rising Empire," the COMPNOR colonel began, first to speak before his fellow Moffs and Warlords. "It's history of industrial labor could help bolster our military, and it would be an ideal location to place criminals on. It wouldn't have a big population outside of the natives, but there is promise in the rewards we can reap from Dorin."

 

[Dagon Kaze]

THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE
DORIN | BYOO
Maynard Treicolt
Darth Daiara | Ashin Cardé Varanin

the crimson idol [x]

<"Ruusan."> Dagon replied blankly, the memories flashed only for a brief moment. The Kaze homestead - once the cherished flashbacks, the anchor of his existence, now tainted by his physical and mental clash with his twin brother Aeric Kaze . Dagon's own images replaced, corrupted rather, by Aeric's grim recollections.

The padawan welcomed the silence of the swim. There was a soothing detachment from reality right there in the dark blue waters. It reminded him of the pilgrimage to Manaan and the Order of Shasa; the struggles in learning waveform, the bonfire nights of bonding among his fellow Jedi - all seemed like an eternity ago. A different time, a different life. A thin lingering tether to the old 'him'. Deep inside he knew the change but he refused to acknowledge it, zealously believing his path and his cause to be right; even when he could sense the doubts and concerns among his peers. Dagon had led them to Generis unprepared, foolishly ignorant and had nearly killed them. Viers, Viera, Violet, Kaska. It chewed him on the inside, just like a curse - feed it once and now it stays. Yet, he denied it an outlet; it was in his nature to keep the guilty, the anguish, the shame within and to never spread it to his companions.

Emerging from the waters into the caves of the Cult of Sion, an echo of an explosion brushed away the agonizing thoughts plaguing his mind. He pushed his wet hair back from his eyes and glanced at Maynard, "Imperials?". A dark sensation creeping down his spine.

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
DORIN
Djorn Bline

​

Things have changed. Truer words never spoken. Such was the flow of the Galaxy, the perilous path they walked. The path of Empire. So too did they build the great kingdom around them did their own persons change. At the onset of this, Djorn was working tirelessly to snuff out the fires of defiance. And now, there was no hound more loyal, few more radically convicted to the proliferation of this New Order than Bline.

He peered over the desolate, storm wrought fury of a landscape that was Dorin through the viewport of the Dissident Aggressor's bridge before he shifted his gaze to Djorn.

"In all truth, Bline. I'd never intended on making it this far." Irveric admitted solemnly.

"I'd thought I see the end at Harnaidan...Bastion...and here I stand." He offered up a low exhale before producing a metal cannister containing cigara. He sparked one alight, tucking it between his lips before drinking in a long draw of the sweetened herb, offering one the way of Djorn all the same.

"Though I do not intend to relinquish Imperator until I am seen as unfit...a man can not neglect his homefront, I have children, Bline. I've seen them...far too sparsely than I'd care to....and they've no mother now. Yet, the war continues to rule my thoughts...you have any idea how taxing that has been?" He inquired, arching a brow.

 

[Horace Stolz]

BLACKSITE BARBAROUS
Eastern Palisade
Objective III
Rolf Amsel

"Not much." The Stossjaeger conceded with a cold sneer. "Naval commandos, and a few regular reconnaissance units." He paused, "Scramble the TIE's!" He barked into is helm, "Trace the informers, and get them stuffed!" The howling of TIE fighters began to rip through the base, as overhead, two of the fighters lurched from their hanging racks, and sped off into the distance. Another volley of mortars slammed into the courtyard, before the Prefsbelt soldiers struck back.

Horace reached for a pair of macrobinoculars on a subordinates chest, and raised them to his visor. He peered out into the distance, and grimaced. "Seems they're coordinating." Stolz snarled, "They've got walkers, incoming. At about... Two clicks away." He paused, and turned back to Amsel, "If you think your boys could jury rig the turbolasers, then I'd appreciate the help sir." Stolz growled, handing the macrobinoculars back to his subordinate, "Even feel free to bully some of the techs, reroute the power. Anything."

"Get some of the anti-tank gear, up here, now!" Stolz barked to his subordinates. "Move, move, move!" He commanded.

 

[Cormac Thire]

P E N I T E N T
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
BASTION | IMPERIAL ASSEMBLY
Arjant Clevenger | MOFFS | WARLORDS

Such was the sobering reality of Empire. For months he'd been working on a means to bloodlessly bring the Kel Dor into the fold of the New imperial Order. But drastic situations called for drastic means. While the True Empire trampled over the desolate surface of Dorin, his home. Var Koon would be in Bastion, to strive to determine the fate of his native home.

He was delegated to represent his world but primarily, the interests of the New Imperial Order.

"I am humbled by your opinion of my people and our world, Clevenger however...I am not sure it is an ideal grounds for manual labor. The resource base of Dorin is...strained, to say the least. Though there are technologies unique to Dorin that may prove beneficial to the New Order. Maintaining a prison colony there...costly. It would have to be a fully enclosed installation. Something no doubt difficult to maintain over time. Least, I would not care to see my homeworld exploited without reciprocation to the Kel Dor. The Sith manipulation of their world has made the storms far worse than generations past, with the Iron Hand, they can be lifted to greater heights." Var Koon suggests.

"And the technological minds of my people dedicated to projects of need to the New Imperial Order."

 

[Dorian Sicarrio]

Paz Koon Kainan Ashin Cardé Varanin Darth Daiara Jago Corvus Maynard Treicolt Dagon Kaze | Feat. Mavia
​

"Should probably, uh, follow the screams-"

"Yes."
​

Dorian didn't much like the auxiliaries; they tended to get in the way or get hurt, but he was pretty sure COMPNOR hated the idea of an entirely independent group of Force users working within the NIO. So, scouts. Scouts who got blown up and shot in the dark while being dragged away be cultists because they didn't want to wait for the Knights.

At the very least it made finding the cultists in their caves a little easier.

In return, the two Knights charged into the cave ahead. Dorian had been expecting to find cultists; instead as they closed the distance they found two human (?) women. Mavia didn't slow. Her senses were better than his, and he trusted her wholeheartedly -- so he darted forward, speed enhanced tenfold by the Force. He slashed at the older one before retreating, only for the gap to be closed by his partner, who pressed the assault with a minimalist style of Makashi.

 

[Rolf Amsel]

BLACKSITE BARBAROUS
Eastern Palisade
Objective III
- - - -

Walkers. A scowl spread across Rolf's lips. That was never a good thing to hear, unless of course they were on your side. The sheer amount of firepower even a single walker could provide was far more dangerous given the sub optimal positioning of their current charge. "I think we can solve that problem." Rolf's frown turned into a confident grin. "Xiv, get Volhelg's platoon up here now. Tell 'em to bring the big guns." The Ninth was known by many unofficially as a FIST complement. Shock Troopers. Heavy armor, heavy weapons, and the grit to crack the hardest of rocks. Though by doctrine an offensive force, the fighting power of her troopers couldn't be disputed. "We'll get you some anti-armor support. You'll just have to hold out till they arrive. My men and I will track down the break in the power - best case it's as simple as flipping a switch. Worst case, we have to quick patch a broken conduit."

The latter would be difficult given not only the technical aspect, but having to repair a main power conduit as large as this one without supply and under fire. It was a bridge they would cross when they got there. "Well." He led. "Captain Stolz, I'll get your turbolasers up and running. Hold strong." With a quick nod and a wave of his arm he stepped off the the side, sounds of combat ringing in his ears. "Gather around men, we've got our work cut out for us." In the matter of several moments, Rolf had laid out his plan and donned his helmet. They were on the move now, quickly cutting between buildings, weapons emplacements, and soldiers. First they had to get outside the wire - unnoticed.

As Rolf and his troopers approached the outermost wall of the facility they saw men huddled behind cover, an officer waving them off. The audacity. Rolf continued forward, stopping just short of a brief open area before the wall, a distance of about eight to ten meters. Taking a knee he vocalized. "What's the hold up soldier?" Rolf didn't have to wait for a response. A violent crack echoed between the hills, silence beginning to settle in again before the audible thump of a body hitting the ground could be heard. Though Rolf had seen the wave off from the allied officer, some poor trooper hadn't - now prone and unmoving in the open space. "Sniper on the hill! Looks like that way!" yelled the officer over the sound of mortar strikes. The word sent a pang of adrenaline coursing through the Colonel's veins. :: Sniper. Estimated bearing zero four five. :: Rolf adjusted his position, settling in with his back against a large drainage pipe. "Get me a line on any exterior elements. We need that sniper taken out if we expect to get those turbolasers up. Time's ticking."

Horace Stolz | Gedeon Rath​

 

[Djorn Bline]

V E N O M _ S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
BYOO
STARRING | "THE BOSS" Irveric Tavlar

"I can only imagine," kindly taking the cigar from Tavlar's offer, sparking it alive from a small flame and drew breath with the herb consumed by the fire at its tip. "It's a bit exhausting, but nothing compared to your burden of responsibilities." Everyone suffered some sort of toll from this war, although the top brass of the rising empire suffered the most of it. Scarred by all the engagements they survived, traumatized by the horrors and lose they were afflicted with. Djorn certainly did, lots of scars were left imprinted on him in his long years of active service with one standing out the most from others. As stressed he was from all the fighting, it was something he always came back to. War was all that he knew when recruited young in the sub-adult group on Bastion.

But he fought not for the excitement of it, as he was a man of ideals and visions; always fighting for what he believed in.

He had a daughter, one he neglected in the Galactic West. The idea of family and fatherhood was something he rejected, prioritizing in his beliefs instead of that.

"Today we are heroes to many in the Galaxy, but tomorrow we'll be deemed as a threat before others. Once this war is over, there'll be another fight waiting beyond our borders," a subtle hint towards the Galactic Alliance and other democratic institutions that, and even within their own borders with Imperials such as Lucien Dooku and Ravraa Vyshraal .

"But I've been thinking in how to approach those problems, make life a little bit easier for you. If you're willing to hear me out."

 

[Ashin Cardé Varanin]

In return, the two Knights charged into the cave ahead. Dorian had been expecting to find cultists; instead as they closed the distance they found two human (?) women. Mavia didn't slow. Her senses were better than his, and he trusted her wholeheartedly -- so he darted forward, speed enhanced tenfold by the Force. He slashed at the older one before retreating, only for the gap to be closed by his partner, who pressed the assault with a minimalist style of Makashi.

"Keep back," Ashin hissed at Darth Daiara . This stretch of cave offered little room to maneuver and too many possibilities for getting in each other's way. She rose from the bloody scout trooper and whipped her golden saber through a deflection. The male Knight's in-and-out attack glanced off her saber without incident, Force speed be hecked.

The second one, the green-skinned woman - that was the real threat here. Her Makashi was compact, efficient, without formal flourishes. It probed Ashin's habitual Shii-Cho defense relentlessly. Ashin found herself giving ground until she trod on the dying scout's hand. She glanced back at Aradia-

"Any luck?"

-but the green-skinned Imperial Knight pressed the advantage. Ashin grimaced and sent a Force push rolling down the tunnel at both Knights. There might be refuge in side crevices or some such. Get the Knights on the back foot, stall their coordination, and all sorts of options could open up.

 

[Darth Daiara]

Aradia's nostril's flared, her knees coming down to pin the scout's shoulders as Ashin took up the defense. Her attention snapped between the gaping wound in his face and the flare of gold over head. The seconds dragged by, her heart in her throat as she watched the unmatched fighting styles drag Ashin back.

Any luck?

"Nothing yet," she uttered. The man was growing weaker, half unconscious under her. She ignored him and rubbed a blood smear off her comm link. "Four minutes. I think--" She felt the pulse of the force as Ashin bought herself some space. Her attention snapped back up, a hungry look to her as she watched from the ground. " ... It worked. But there will be more where they came from."

They had drawn attention to them now. That was half the point.

She pulled another grenade from her belt, their remaining cultist stirring uneasily at her back. "My turn," she gritted, eyes closing as she fell deeply into the force. The words of power fell from lips, whispered reverently. The energy drew from her core, pulling from her body when she lacked the strength through the force. Her back arched, the color leaving her skin.

The force rippled with the darkness she channeled.

Ashin Cardé Varanin Dorian Sicarrio

 

[Dorian Sicarrio]

Ashin Cardé Varanin Darth Daiara | Feat. Mavia​

Dorian prided himself on being untouchable. His speed allowed him to dance out of the path of the push, hiding away in one of the nooks in the side of the cave. Mavia, on the other hand, was too close to the Sith to dodge in any meaningful way. She was knocked back. Dorian rushed over, slowing and catching her.

"Tough customer. You good?"

Mavia 'winked', the usual, when it seemed like her eye needed a moment to recalibrate.

"Our opponent -- the older one -- I recognize her."
​

"Yeah?"
​

"Ashin Varanin."
​

"Who- OH. I know this one, it's the- the-"
​

"Former Sith empress. She's become more active as of late."
​

"That one." He snapped his fingers.

With Ashin's companion seeming to gather power, they didn't have more time to talk. All they got was one more glance between one another. That silent bond was reaffirmed; he smiled under his helmet, even if a little worry crept in. If things became dire they'd withdraw, but they'd always fought better together. Former empress? Doable.

They moved together this time. Though Dorian was hardly as skilled with a lightsaber as Mavia, they made up for it with perfect coordination; absolute trust that the other would be there whenever needed. Mavia focused on intercepting Ashin's saber whenever possible, relentlessly pressing forward, no matter how slow the advance. Dorian pushed his speed further; rapid thrusts to follow near moments after Mavia's pushes. It wasn't long before he chose to switch targets. He slipped past the elder Sith in a flash and stopped at the younger's side.

And, cut.​

 

[Ashin Cardé Varanin]

Young, cocky, fast, efficient, and very well coordinated. The pair of Imperial Knights had kept Ashin on the back foot since they began their assault. Now one of them slipped past her and went for Darth Daiara - who was engrossed in trying out this Krath spell. Right now she would be pushing her Force connection to the limit, in no frame of mind to protect herself. She'd trusted Ashin to be her wall.

Doing anything less was contemptible.

Ashin's off hand snapped out and caught Mavia's lightsaber to start draining some power from it. She pivoted and glanced back. Empowered by Aradia's spell, a fanatical Sionist was charging past her with the frag grenade. Any wounds from that grenade would strongly resist healing, even and especially Force healing.

The saber blade vanished from Ashin's hand and reappeared, scything along her ribs in a tidy bit of trakata. But contact was contact. She shut off the pain with brutal ease, long experience, and finished draining the saber blade of its power.

Power which she used to erect a wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling Force shield with Aradia on one side. And on the other, everyone else and the frag grenade.

The cursed suicide bomber died outright. The tunnel amplified the concussion into a bleeding-from-the-ears shockwave. Cursed shrapnel punched through Ashin's clothes and last-ditch protection in a dozen places. She hit the ground hard; so did Mavia. Dorian Sicarrio might or might not be down as well - she couldn't tell through the smoke and the gloom. The shield between him and Aradia had lasted only a few seconds, protecting her from explosions and Knights alike.

Though shutting off pain was an old familiar skill to Ashin, it had its limits. Saber burn to the left ribs, she told herself clinically as she stood on shaking legs. Ruptured eardrums. Shrapnel all up and down right side. Guess you'll get to test whether Sadow's healing spell overrules a Krath suicide bombing - later.

 

[Darth Daiara]

Aradia felt nothing-- not the grenade leaving her hands nor the knight appearing over her. Her attention had transcended her body, not even aware of the limit she pushed it to. Life drained from her skin, hallowing out her youthful feature. A master level spell preformed by an apprentice. It wasn't impressive, it was suicide. The sacrificial death of the cultist completed the pact. The spell released into the shrapnel's that flew through the air.

Her body crumbled to cavern floor, her chest heaving. Each breath was effort.

So much effort.

Through the smoke and the din, her eyes connected with the knight besides her. Everything moved slowly, her brain struggling to make connections against the chaos she had unleased. It had worked? At a cost. Her vision blurred out as she extended a hand, reaching for...something. Her heart stuttered against itself.

She felt a pulse a fear, instincts stirring.

Something tugged on Dorian Sicarrio 's energies, subtle at first, like babe's hand curling around your finger. The grip tightened with each beat of her strengthening heart, until it clawed at his very essence. Life dribbled back to the girl's cheeks. It pulled harder, her desperate gaze turning primal.


Force drain.

Ashin Cardé Varanin

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
DORIN
Djorn Bline

​

He took another draw of the cigar, peering over the ashen surface of Dorin through the viewport of the star destroyer's command bridge. Irveric turns in wholesale to Djorn as he speaks. 'Heroes'. He'd never think to pin that word unto himself, it immediately made him feel ill at ease and it showed with a shift in his posture, nodding once.

"We're not heroes, Djorn. We've only just figured out what needs to be done." Then Djorn spoke of threats outside their borders. 'After' the war. He implied this war had an end. In truth, they'd one day see it. Whether or not the treaty had been signed or the capitulation official by the time they saw the end of their own experience of it, uncertain.

The Sith Warlord remnants and renegades of the Sith Empire were consolidating at an alarming rate, as too was the Brotherhood of the Maw and the Bryn'adul still evident threats.

"You have my ear, Bline. What is it?" He inquired, arching a brow.

 

[Djorn Bline]

V E N O M _ S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
BYOO
STARRING | "THE BOSS" Irveric Tavlar

"We're not heroes, Djorn. We've only just figured out what needs to be done."

“Tell that to the people in this Empire of ours, they’ll disagree right away,” although COMPNOR invested its resources on creating positive propaganda about Irveric. Examples were comparing him and the current Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Alliance, showing the people their Imperator was willing to fight on the frontlines with his men while a woman sat comfortably behind a desk parsecs away from the fight. A noble and heroic thing to do, though COMPNOR made sure to silence any voice that dared to light a bad image on the Imperator; creating a society with loyalty to Irveric without question.

“Although I understand where you’re coming from. Being a hero and being portrayed as one are two different things, but I digress.”

“This idea I have...well, it’s unique in its own right. It’s also a bit odd, I suppose. Boss, there’s a lot of elements in the Galaxy that hates us for what we believe and fight for. Hell, there’s even some elements within our ranks that I think don’t agree to the vision we have for the Galaxy. I know I won’t stop fighting to bring Imperialism to the Galaxy and being order to this insane Galaxy.”

“So here’s the thing, you’ve got a lot of juggle. Trying to appease people without upsetting everyone. What if I go on my way and create private army that’ll do whatever needs to be done without everyone coming at your throat. A phantom empire. I’ll be your phantom and do the dirty work that you’re not able to due to political sensitivities. We’ll achieve what we’ve dreamed of with this plan.”

“What do you think?”

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
DORIN
Djorn Bline

​

Irveric Tavlar saw a great deal of himself in Djorn Bline. A mortal man, reviling what the Sith had done to the nation he'd loved. The identity of Empire, a Galaxy under order. All in its right place.

To Djorn's suggestion, Irveric cracked a faint laugh beneath his breath before pulling another draw from his cigar.

"You remind me a lot of myself, Djorn. And last I recall, when I went off and consolidated my own force to fight the enemies in front of me..." He hoped he didn't have to explain the rest. The Third Imperial Civil War.

"I trust in your loyalty, Bline. But what perplexes me is where you see our enemies, those enemies not the ones facing us down the barrel of their own weapons. The Elder Compact showed just how little they think of us, the Galaxy. This, I am well aware. But give me names." Irveric requests of the COMPNOR agent.

 

[Djorn Bline]

V E N O M _ S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
BYOO
STARRING | "THE BOSS" Irveric Tavlar ​

“To me? In all honesty, the entire Galaxy. It sounds awful, but the truth is time after time the Galaxy has always carried a harsh hand against us. All to preserve their democracy which is what breeds corruption and unchecked dissidents. Even the Alliance. Sure, we might be allies now, but tomorrow? Their own zealots and extremists will resume their crusade against us.”

“As for those in our ranks? The likes of Dooku doesn’t sit well with me. He doesn’t share our vision of an empire.”

Taking a puff of the cigar, before continuing. Surprised that Irveric wasn’t against the idea. Not yet at least. It was all unconventional and certainly presented many concerns. Was it a scheme? A deceitful scheme? Sure, but it applied to certain groups and individuals.

“Look, I see this as a way to preserve our way of life from those that seek to undermine us. This’ll be ideal to strike at our enemies without having to risk the entirety of the Empire. All of it will be unconventional and we’ll have an army to spans across the Galaxy, all trained to serve for our cause.”

“All of this might sound a way to gain power, but the truth is I’ve never cared much for it. I’ve always been a soldier and I know I belong out in the mud. Serving a cause that’s worthy to die on any hill which is this.”

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
DORIN
Djorn Bline

​

He knew immediately how Djorn thought. Us against the world. Feth 'em all. It was an admirable ideology, one Tavlar ascribed to in his later days a Sith Legionnaire and later in the first, founding months of the New Imperial Order. That changed in the ruins of Harnaidan, witnessing first hand the glassing of Muunilinst by the will of the Sith Empire. A disgusting, despicable act.

"It's all because of fear, Djorn. As they are, they empower an ideology that props up their cults to puppet the common man. Our New Order works by the merit of those beneath it. The Galaxy is a dangerous place. When our finest ally is a nation who were not reluctant to aim the weapons at us on Yinchorr, you're right to be alarmed of our position. " Irveric stated outright.

"The issue is, I doubt in the ability to keep this line of operation concealed. I understand the merit of it and I am well aware of your mindset. Its much aligned with my own. They say no one is born for war, Djorn. That we're all molded into it. But I well and truly believe otherwise. Without the fight, the struggle, my life would have little meaning. The New Order has given me that meaning. I will work until my final breath to preserve what we have created." Irveric admitted.

"Assemble a squad, firstly. And you will not conduct operations within or without the borders of the New Order, outside of against nations we are already well at war with without my explicit command. " Irveric offers.

 

[Hyperion]

OBJECTIVE II //: WE CAN'T BE FOUND
COMPNOR // Rika Hiro
// TARGET >> THE MONTEREY CIRCLE | DORIN SYNDIC //​

They plucked feathers. A reserved approach to crippling the head of the snake. An arduous task, requiring finesse and patience, that ultimately proved futile. Beneath the thick veil of dozens upon dozens of figureheads, merely acting as circuit breakers, lied dormant a curled serpent - The Monterey Circle. A powerful syndicate of puppeteers, believed to have risen in the power vacuums left behind the wake of the New Imperials reconquest of former Sith-Imperial worlds.

In this endeavor, two assassins were paired. Lone wolves by nature, a pack by command. Their cold gazes locked onto a lone sail barge anchored in a dusty and lifeless ravine, a violent storm closing in; its raging lightnings illuminated the dark skies and thunder roared in the distance.

"We'll wait for the cover of the storm." he stated, his voice distorted through the vocoder of his helmet

"What do you see?"