Claim the Beast [OS Dominion of Onderon]

[Vrag]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GwES9M0isVM​

It was a bright sunny day, with birds chirping in the trees and beasts grazing the plains outside Iziz.

Then the Sith came, and though the weather was perfect for the classic 'blot out the sun' routine, the appendage of the Dark Lord leading this particular campaign was perhaps one of the most — if not the most — practical among them; unfortunately for the Sith, that meant that they would arrive with an utter lack of style or dramatic flair.

Unfortunately for the Izizi, however, that also meant that less time was spent on dalliances, and more on the actual business they had come to conduct. Swift and efficient, the armies disembarked and established the forward camps inside the sprawling city, with legions of infantry and machinery soon marching down the fast-abandoned streets. What civilians remained in the wake of the Republic's retreat from the world were shoved back into their houses as the troops passed them by, and any resistance shown by the citizens was sure to be quelled with brutal retaliation.

Truthfully, the world didn't stand a chance, and if they had been particularly inclined to do so, the Sith could've just stayed in the orbit and glassed the planet.
But it was not the way of this particular Hand, and since nobody was feeling like taking a trip through the airlock, they proceeded as planned.

Why would anyone complain about taking a stroll through a sun-bathing city, anyway? The day was nice, the air was warm, and the expected resistance would be minimal, if even present. They would tear down the remnants of the Republic still marring the panorama, and the planet of Onderon would become another jewel in the crown of the Dark Lord.

A crown that Vrag could not give a single flying kark about at the moment, because some mooks guarding the North gate to Iziz had been pinging up the chain of command for so long that it eventually reached her. What in all of Nether could be so important to require her immediate attention on an abandoned world was anyone's guess, but the firrerreo resolved to head there anyway.

Better safe than sorry.

~​

In the courtyard before the steps leading up to Halcyon Temple in the north of the city, a group of Beast Riders descended upon the backs of great flame-colored skreevs, their arrival heralded by a cacophony of roars, a dozen or so in count. There came no move of aggression, no flying spears or poisoned arrows, no war cries nor taunts. The group was strangely silent as the beasts settled down on the square one by one, massive wings furling at their sides as their riders reigned them in.

One rider dropped from his mount - a tall, slight man wearing the robes of the ancient Pillar of Knowledge. Short, shorn blond hair and golden eyes shone bright in the sun.

He stepped forward, yellow eyes taking in the arrival of the highest Sith authority with a slate face, "So you have come to Onderon," he began, voice level and clear, "we always knew that it was never a matter of if, but when. I am Lord Volden, speaker of the Beastia - sovereign ruler of everything beyond the walls of Iziz."
The Beastia was not immediately visible with her entourage gathered before her. Vrag would absolutely feel her power there, and would know immediately that it was something on the verge of ancient. Quietus had never been the sort to conceal her presence in the Force. Nor does she flaunt it. She was simply obvious.

_______________________________​

​

Spoiler: Objectives

1. Vrag and Quietus negotiate the terms of the treaty.
   ​(Each sub-objective unlocked by progress of negotiations)
2. Tear down the old GR buildings in Iziz (Senate, Town hall, etc.), but leave the general infrastructure intact. No civilian slaughter.
   a.) Capture the Onderon royalty (Princess, Queen). Seize the palace and take everything that isn’t nailed down.
   b.) Collect data and information from the Academy of Onderon, then raze it to the ground.
   c.) Soon™

The sub-objectives [ a, b, c ] will be updated as the negotiations progress.

 

[Thalia Rist]

​

Location: Iziz Capital Palace​

Post: 1/20​

Thalia sighed as she already got news of the newest arrivals. Something she knew would happen the moment the republic was gone and in some ways it was good for that. She no longer had to play nice with squatters for a time but now the Sith had come and her hand rubbed at her eyes while she sat at a desk in her room. She was far from anything that was going on, curious of what could come from this little showing that the Sith brought and for a few moments she looked out the window with a curious wondering what was out there in terms of people.

With a hand coming to the desk, she pushed up on it and stood slowly. She needed air, this was all alot to worry about and the worst of all was her mother was the only one left these days. Her dad had always been the one to be there for her, the one to comfort her, and then a Sith killed him in cold blood... If she had the power or choice she would put a blade into that one's chest before leaving him for dead for taking her father from her. But she did not, she had not the ability, power, or opportunity. So instead she moved towards the balcony and looked down at what stood as the city of Iziz. "Today is going to be a boring day."

 

[Quietus]

NEGOTIATIONS: 2

[SIZE=14.6667px]Vrag approaches with the air of a placid predator, though there is no trace of arrogance in her stride. Simply an aura of respect earned with blood and paid for in bodies; this aura makes for an easy passage through the contingent of soldiers surrounding the envoy of the Beastia.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Her eyes behind the mask flicker from Lord Volden to the fount of unadulterated power obscured by the new arrivals. Even through the plates of Skerr Ygdris, she can feel that something, or some[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]one[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px] is here.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"Why does the Beastia need a speaker?"[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]~[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=14.6667px]"[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]She lacks the physical ability,[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]" Volden answers simply, "[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]no more, no less. What name may I address you by?[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]"[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"Vrag."[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"Why are you here?"[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Volden blinks, slowly, golden eyes flickering, sliding sideways towards his shoulder as the words of the Beastia filter through his mind. Clearly these choice words were important and, seemingly sensing this Sith's brusque nature, are short in return.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]He looks back to Vrag, "To negotiate."[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]~[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=14.6667px]In a moment of objective reflection, Vrag looks on the situation and knows it would probably be faster to just kill them now. Years ago, that was likely exactly what she would have done, but a decade of war has left its mark.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"Relinquish your weapons and muzzle your beasts. Then we can talk."[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]~[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=14.6667px]There is movement in the gathering of Beast Riders. Un-abrupt, subtle shifting of weight from one warrior to the next. A figure is weaving through without rush, stepping out past a large bull Skreev and its rider adorned in jagged bone battle armor. What visible skin is marked by an endless array of tribal tattoos and ritual scars. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Volden glances back to see the Beastia handing her own weapons off to a warrior. She is not masked. Frosted jade eyes level on Vrag.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"The Beastia would speak with you alone, if you would remove your helmet, Vrag."[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]~[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=14.6667px]Vrag doesn't move even as a figure with familiar clout parts the envoy. The Beastia walks akin to the Sith Lord, and it brings a smile to her lips. A smile unseen, and unheard when she speaks again.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"You just told me she doesn't speak,"[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px] the Hand remarks and lets her gaze slide to Lord Volden before returning to the woman.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]~[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=14.6667px]"Not with her tongue," Volden returns, a faint smirk on his face. He calmly lifts a hand to tap at his temple, "but with this."[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"Made all the more difficult by your [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]helmet[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]."[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]~[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=14.6667px]"I see."[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]The proposition is a bold one, clearly. Every single soldier encircling them knows this. In fact, no-one can say if they've ever seen the Hand take off her helmet, now that they think about it. She's always been a distant horned figure on the battlefield, sowing destruction with a blade of red.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]The proposition will surely be met with a dismissive scoff, won't it?[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]"Come," [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]the Sith responds simply and angles her body away.[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px] "If any of your people attempt to engage in hostilities, you [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]will[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px] come to harm."[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]~[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=14.6667px]Volden utters a short word to the Beastia as she passes by, who pauses for only a moment to give the man a nod. Nothing further is said as the woman steps forward to follow Vrag and Volden steps back through the group of Riders and their mounts.[/SIZE]

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

Location: Iziz City, Onderon

Watching dispassionately as troop transports disgorged a efficient force of men and women dressed in their concealing dark armour, it was hard not to imagine the death that might, perhaps, visit the streets of Onderon this day. We never retreat, so we can only advance now upon these worlds. The Sith had come here in force, intending to walk away as the rightful owners of this former Republic world. That, or leave it behind us an empty shell. That was the way now, was it not?

That the Sith were inclined to offer a peaceful solution had suggested that, perhaps, matters were softening somewhat now. They were the dominant power in the Galaxy with the wane of the Republic, so it no longer made sense to subjugate every planetary population in proximity - the Sith were no longer a force seeking to overcome millenia of corrupt democratic rule on the behalf of the Republic. No, now we are the rulers, and so it behooves my brethren to act like it. No doubt Onderon still faced decimation if push came to shove, but first they would be offered opportunity to bend the knee in the old-fashioned way. Corpses can't offer their surrender, after all.

That would not be his assignment, no. Much though Tirdarius had disagreed with it, the Sith leadership had elected to make a small demonstration of force by razing the old holdings of the Galactic Alliance that remained within the planetary capital. A petty act of vengeance that might best be restrained - we could simply repurpose the buildings, after all. Still, such a demonstration was an undeniable act of theatricality, a symbolic way of declaring to one and all that Onderon's new leaders had come to claim their new territory.

Several of the Sith had already peeled off with their escorts to deal with the wilder local population, but the main force disembarked their transports and now marched to Iziz with all the unstoppable efficiency that the Sith expected. Pickets established, patrols begun, local security forces to be subdued and disarmed. It was only a surprise that Iziz wasn't to be entirely razed to the ground - the moderates among the Sith were clearly coming to the fore now, and it was an appropriate change. We must rule, not simply destroy.

The streets of the capital were surprisingly empty, in and of themselves: the locals had all clearly decided that discretion was the better part of valor, none wishing to confront the Sith or their people in open defiance. And a city is easy to control when they place themselves on a self-imposed curfew. Perhaps that would be best to make official, at least until everything was in place and the dust had cleared when they took down those buildings that needed to be cleansed.

"Proceed to the Palace," he said softly, motioning with one hand towards the troopers that served as his own escort. "Harm none within unless they offer overt resistance to your presence," the Sith Lord continued. The ancient aristocracy of Onderon were understood to be a noble but haughty breed, one that the Sith would either need to deal with or eliminate entirely to secure their presence here. But we'll consider that a secondary objective for now. Beachheads always took a little while to establish - and where better for the Sith to hole up than the Palace, the most striking building in the Capital?

 

[Lucianus Adair]

Location: Halcyon Citadel
Post: 1/20

Away from the impending negotiations, deep in the wilds stood Halcyon Citadel, and within, was one man; that man was watching. The Beastia - a title for most beings other than this man - had left him here that she might go to the 'visitors' to exert her will when they came to claim Onderon for their Dark Lord. Ones such as them had the title of ally, once, in his former capacity as a High Councillor and Lord of the Fringe; now he stood indifferent, neutral and in acceptance of what he now was, a strange mutation of the bloodthirsty youth he had been over eight hundred years hence, a man that no longer cared for the squabbles of Light against Dark, or wanton bloodshed. The Hunt still raged in his veins, but it no longer used the traditional, blind hatred of Jedi as an excuse. That being said, he was far from being declawed and untoothed.

One thing had not changed; blood was still to be had, driven by the dictates of possession and protection, and jealousy was an ugly business, and rage could be its bedmate, at times, lest adequate reason to stay his hand and hold his tongue was present. What was his was his, an unequivocal fact. It was this kind of man that the former Lord was, and that man had been left with instructions.

If hostiles come knocking...

He gazed out a window, towards the city, magnification of his ocular senses enabling him to track her movements with detail, as he recalled the gist of her words.

...do not engage.

His fingers curled around the windowsill, mind searching for mind; a tether.

Unless these negotiations go south.

She would let him know; of that, he was certain. The situation was weighed, and the success of the negotiations could be seen as favourable, but...

"We will see..." he rumbled.

...well.

 

[Six-O]

Objective: 2 - Unload Ordnance for destruction of Republic Buildings
Allies: One Sith
Location: OS Staging Ground
Enemies: Perhaps a citizen or ten when [member="Vrag"] is busy with diplomacy, and therefore blissfully unaware
Posts: 1/20

How curious, thought the Droid now known as IGa-60. During every stage of his evolution from G0-T0 Attahox he had somehow found his way back to this world, back to Onderon. In a way that could be ascribed in no relateable human fashion, he found this amusing. Something he wanted to muse about deeply while he and a number of other Droid's unloaded explosive ordnance from the shuttles they descended in on.

Yes, he'd been here twice during the Mandalorian War -- a good ten months. Back then he had still been a simple Protocol Droid, for the most part. He recalled, easily, that he designated himself AML-6060 at the time. Though elementary may have indeed been the common tongue-in-cheek of which the Mandalorians had referred to him and his chassis at the time. His experience on this World was nothing short of exquisite.

He'd rode the backs of Basilisk War Droids and deadly Drexl's both -- he'd actually claimed one of the great Beasts as his own for some years following the Mandalorian retreat in the Second Battle of Onderon -- he'd seen the city of Iziz fall in a single hour, and their stubborn, xenophobic citizens burn and weep in the aftermath.

Oh did they suffer, too. He could recall so many had been murdered and executed that they simply ran out of ammunition, and had to take to wielding ceremonial Mythosaur Axes to continue expunging the will of the people. Then, when axes broke, and the bone blades splintered, from the walls did he and the Droid's start throwing the organics. So much blood had been spilled on the stones of Iziz that to this day the Western Walls and roads held the dull color of rust.

He cherished those memories, perhaps later he'd replay them in more detail.

As HKa-60 he again returned, working for a Hutt Kajidic that wanted to move in to the city of Iziz, establish a foothold and carve themselves a small corner in this vastly human population. That had been a summer of fire -- literally.

Again he came back during his prison sentence as B1-60 during the Clone Wars, that had been ruthless, and a Separatist defeat that nearly saw him deactivated. It was just further proof of his tenacity, legs gone, chest punctured. He still managed to end lives and find his way back for repairs -- except that time on Tellanroaeg, but that was another story, and he didn't like remembering that nightmare.

As AHM-60 he was back again, waging bloody combat against Onderon Freedom Fighters on behalf of the Galactic Empire -- they called him the Isendrex, old Onderonian for Iron Beast. While he had been conducting his symphony of death and terror the Empire ruled this world with an oppressive fist of religious proportion. When his Contract had ended, and Six-O took leave, well, the destruction of the Imperial Navy-Army Ordnance Center had been one of their most embarrassing defeats.

And finally, here again he was, now IGa-60. He'd been told his operating parameters were to avoid slaughter of citizens -- what a waste of his talent. But he would comply. Perhaps he could leverage his pay instead for a permanent residence in the city of Iziz, yes. Yes, he would bring that up. If any deserved to claim this as one of their homes, it was he, Six-O, after all. Who else among them could claim such a beautiful history with it's people and customs?

 

[Darth Ophidia]

[1/20]
Objective: Reunite the Lovers.
Location: Iziz, Onderon, the Royal Crypt.
Enemies: Prying eyes.
Allies: Shadows.

Kingslayer of Onderon; Darth Ophidia had been honoured with that title after her last visit to this very place. Back then, it was still the capitol of the waning Galactic Republic, sworn enemy of the One Sith’s ever-expanding Empire. It had rained that day, as loved ones, mothers, daughters, fathers and sons all wept for those that fell in the failed attack on Ord Mirit. In the midst of the sorrow, the Aspect of Death had crept up to the King and their senator, and then impaled the both in plain sight. The senator had regrettably lived, but the king, her target, perished. It was a sign that the Sith would never relent and never allow a transgression to go unpunished.

Now, once more, the Rattataki Assassin stood upon the soil of Onderon, in the city of Iziz, and drew breath in the air once filled with sorrow, fire and death. It was as though a residue of terror from that fated night lingered just under the sands and dirt of Iziz. The Sith were taking control now, bargaining for dominion over the planet. They would spare the lives of those who complied, feeding them a spoonful of the lie that was peace.

She was not standing on soil per se, but rather on finely crafted stone. Her gloved left hand stroked the fine stone grave of the king she had slain, and with a gust of air, the lid floated up as she pulled on it telekinetically. Below, the corpse of the once high and mighty was rotting like any other, and a vicious smile spread over her lips. The stone lid crashed on the steps beside the grave as she thrust her hand into the grave and gripped the decaying hair of the King’s head. With a yank, she pulled his head out of the shelter of the grave as her lightsabre activated with a furious hiss. The head came severed cleanly with a burning swipe before the sabre once more became quiet in her hand. Now, the Assassin stood with the head of her victim in her hand.

She stepped away from the grave and looked at the rotting face as shadows consumed her form once and fully. Clicking a hidden trigger in her armour, a stealth field removed her from sight in practical invisibility, while her force-presence was cloaked masked and dispersed into nothingness. She was dust on the walls and a owcreeping chill. Passing like a ghost, she stepped right past the honour guard of the royal mausoleum. A breeze fluttered through her invisible clothes as she crossed a finely groomed courtyard. Her casual walk took her into the castle proper, and up, up, up far into the private quarters. The head swayed gingerly with each soundless step as she held it by the hair.

It was time she reunited the King with his widowed Queen.

[member="Thalia Rist"]

 

[Kenrath]

Location: Descending through the Atmosphere
Objective: Surgical strikes against High Value Targets. (OBJ. 2)
Allies: One Sith
Enemies: TBD
Post: 1/20


LTCMDR Thanith Gumara sat in the cockpit of the KI-GS-MK1 Gunship flanked by two other gunships. Even though it had been awhile since he had piloted a craft this size it was still like second nature to him. Even has the CO of Task Force Phoenix he was a man who like to lead the charge from the front. He hit the comm button.

"Task Force Phoenix on station." "This is Alpha heading to target ETA 3 minutes."


Bravo and Charlie were executing strikes on other buildings. It was a coordinated strike against installations built by Republic forces when they controlled the planet. Control that had been severed by cutting off supply lines when they took the Planet of Contruum. Task Force Phoenix had been there and suffered heavy casualties but they would continue to rise to the challenge and hand out the Emperor's judgement on all that needed judged.

 

[Vrag]

NEGOTIATIONS: 3

All manner of thoughts pass through her mind as she leads the Beastia down the streets of Iziz — streets the other woman probably knows far better, she realizes — but foremost among these is a displaced sort of calm. Most people are unnerved at the sound of explosions and the sight of armed troops, but the Hand is at home in strife.

She thrives on conflict. So why negotiate?

"Close the door, please," she speaks again once they have ascended the stairs leading into an old, abandoned house.

It's plain and unassuming, yet the fate of the planet will be decided here nonetheless.

~​

The door closes before she can finish the request. The Beastia continues to follow in complete silence. The Beastia does note the use of the term 'please' with some mild hint of scathing humor.

~​

Vrag pulls two chairs out of a dusty corner without much ado and sets them down in the middle of the empty room, taking one for herself. Her posture is relaxed, but not lazy. The sort of relaxed that reminds of a Ralltiir tiger waiting in the high grass, eyes on the quarry.

"Sit."

~​

Quietus promptly turns the chair around to face her and takes a seat, straddling it. She leans her elbows on the back, releases a slow breath and tips a pointed brow at Vrag. Helmet.

~​

Vrag snorts, but it's a genuine sound. There is no mockery in her tone, just amusement.

"I could go on about how fucking honored you should feel, but I know you don't give a shit."

"So here's what I'm going to tell you instead, Beastia: overstep your bounds for one inch, and they won't scrape enough of you off these walls to fill an urn."

~​

Ah, yes, the eau de Sith has permeated her sense of egotism. Quietus has not missed the stench and cares too little to press the issue. She motions to Vrag with a sweep of her hand: Behind helmet #1.

~​

Vrag lets the silence stretch, and one could almost hear a dust mote settle on the ground, were it not for the sound of explosions in the distance. Oh, well.

She speaks again, then, though not to the Beastia. The sound is sharp and altogether alien to the syllables of Basic; it's the tongue of the Yuuzhan Vong. At her command, Dhaladii obeys, and the Vonduun crab peels back to reveal the face of the Sith Lord.

~​

The Beastia is incapable of understanding this tongue, not that this makes a lick of difference. She remains impassive as Lady Vrag's pristine visage is finally revealed but she is reminded of several other Sith faces from her very distant past and momentarily experiences a flashback that she would have rather left in the garbage.

Better.

The Beastia's mental tone is calm, flat, and very much lacking any form of fear - perhaps to Vrag's dismay... or not.

~​

A shadow of a frown passes over her face like a brief storm, but is nipped in the bud just as quickly. Vrag is unused to conversing with unknowns face-to-face. The experience is... thrilling.

"What do you want?"

Unusual, perhaps, but the Sith Lord is not easily thrown off. Her chosen line of business doesn't allow for such a weakness.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

​

​

This time the Blackblade Guard had not been deployed in full strength, but rather a token mechanized infantry company had been sent along with their Lord to oversee the pacification of Onderon. And they came with armor polished, guns brandished, and their heels dragging through the streets of Iziz. Behind the melancholy column of warriors strode an AT-HT, it's weapons scanning from side to side as it's targeting computer picked up multiple humanoid life forms huddling together inside the teal-roofed houses that lined each side of the street. Each and every one of them could be a possible malcontent, but for now they remained level-headed and smart; staying inside of their homes as the Sith-Imperial entourage marched onward.

At the head of the company strode Darth Vornskr, clad from head to toe in imposing black battle armor. Behind him was a rather diminutive figure holding a banner displaying the black Imperial crest over a crimson field, the fabric flapping as a gust of wind swept across the streets. The only sounds that permeated the brisk morning air was the rhythmic marching of the Blackblades, the whistling of the wind, and the distant braying of animals that dwelt well beyond the city's towering wall.

Boy, was Vornskr bored.

For the last couple of weeks all he and his cohorts had done was butcher whole communities and torch cities, and now here they were patrolling through the vacant streets of Iziz like they were some damn macabre parade procession. To be quite frank it infuriated him that they weren't laying waste to the former Republic capital, the still warm vacant seat of power. Ah, but he could day dream of vivid butchery the likes of which had not be committed before in all the galaxy's history. Men slashed and hacked to ribbons, newborn babes torn from their wailing mother's arms and dashed against the wall, and supple young maidens defiled and then hung in the streets like a gutted boar.

No doubt his cadre of soldiers dreamed the same dreams as their debaucherous Lord, but orders were orders and he had enough self-restraint to follow them through to the end.

Still...

Iziz would look better on fire.

[ 1 / 20 ]​

 

[Darth Timoris]

[Post=1/20]​

Objective: Getting back in the saddle…
Location: In space
Allies: None
Enemies: None

Her ship lurched as she yanked it to starboard. The debris field was studded with jettisoned space garbage and small asteroids that could get sucked into your engine faster than you could say, Ooops. She could handle it. If only her hands would stop sweating.

Onderon, a planet rich in history, lay behind the debris field. A source of evil that still calls evil to meet it. As her ship approached its inner atmosphere, she could feel the dark side of the Force rising around her — perhaps the proximity of Dxun was a factor?

She had made the choice to come, had entered the co-ordinates into the nav computer - yet it had felt as though the decisions were being made outside of her own will. It was as though a tractor beam had got a hold of her, yanking her forward.

Why am I doing this? Why?

It made no sense, except in her bones.

Just days before, she was drifting.

Now here she was, a One Sith again.

Something had called her. An urge to test herself, maybe? She needed to see what she was up against.

 

[Thalia Rist]

Location: Iziz Palace, Private Balcony​

Post: 2/20​

People nearby/relevant: None​

​

Thalia watched the increasing number of soldiers moving through the city. It had been best that the people returned to their homes. While a good number did leave the city they were all republic personnel. Her people paid their loyalty not to the Republic but to Onderon after all and for good reason. One oppressor was no different than the other and as far as she was concerned, having the Sith or the Republic here was all the same as they both imposed their own rules on the planet and put it in harms way.​

​

Her hand brushed its way over the balcony's separator, looking down to the ground where she could see all those soldiers and her distaste for that sight did bring her to a sigh as she stood there. There was one benefit to this though. With the Sith in control, it meant safety for her people as long as they were not used for some mass blood ritual like the last time she had heard of the Sith conquering a planet. She was worried that would be what would become of her people. Simple livestock for the Sith to simply use to make themselves powerful and then throw aside like a rag. It infuriated her on that thought but atleast that was not happening now.​

​

With careful eyes she looked down towards the entrance of the palace. At the moment it seemed that none had tried to force their way in, but she didn't know how long that would be till they did. Or worse till they tried to overthrow her mother. She would not rule as effectively as her aged mother but that was not something she took kindly to thinking in regards to the Sith barging in and harming her remaining family. Her eyes closed and she rubbed them. It had been a long day already and she really wanted to talk to [member="Quietus"] . The last time they had talked she had heard so much and had been trying to treat her heart the best she could so she could one day take time to be among the beast tamers and learn about them more closely. With the Sith here though she had no idea if that would ever be possible anymore.​

 

[Darth Ophidia]

[2/20]
Objective: Reunite the Lovers.
Location: Iziz, Onderon, the Royal Palace.
Enemies: Prying eyes.
Allies: Shadows.

Of course, the castle was full of security and closed doors. If a door should open and none passed through, then suspicions would be roused. Therefore, Darth Ophidia had timed her tour through the palace with the changing of the guards and the serving of food to the upper levels. To uphold the highest of standards, everything was on time and on point. All the Sith needed to do was to remain a ghost and follow in the footsteps of those who walked these paths every day.

If she could help it, she would walk on her own, all the less chance of detection, but the doors were always the issue. If only she could phase through the doors like a true spirit. Then again, nothing was truly impossible when one wielded the Force. Perhaps with precarious studies, she would find a way, but it was not now.
The higher she went into the castle, the less people she could find. She had made her way into the private quarters of the Royal family; lavish rooms for those who ruled. Then, she stood before the door of her target. An invisible hand stretched out as she tried to sense what was within without letting her cover fall. She sensed no life forms, as should be right per the schedule. The Queen had business to attend to, no doubt, and the room would be left alone for yet another while.

With a circular motion of her index finger, Ophidia opened the door and slipped inside. It closed softly behind her, leaving only a gentle click as the door set into place. Where she now stood was luxurious yet simple. The bedroom faced the outer wall with a small balcony accessed through finely crafted doors, draped in white curtains. A big bed dominated the room with its’ poufy pillows and thick covers, all of which was of fine quality, tidy and clean. A single chair stood in a corner alongside a table, a library of data for entertainment and an unused glass next to a bottle of amber liquid. On the opposite side of the balcony entrance was a desk with a large mirror and assorted flimsiplasts and old-timey writing equipment. No doubt the Queen had her hobbies, probably a diary as well.

Touching the side of her helmet, Ophidia pressed a button that caused the visor of her helmet to slide up on her head. This in turn allowed her to take in the room first hand, her nostrils filled with the scent of flowers, perfume, and dry tears. She also undid the stealth field of her suit. Ophidia looked at the head dangling from her left hand, and she placed it on the table next to the chair. Striding to the bed, she raised her left hand and closed her eyes. Out from a fold in her sleeve, a white serpent slithered. It arched down and slipped under the covers of the bed. It was Nagajj, her familiar; it was Ophidia’s own flesh and blood in true ophidian form that now hid in the comfort of the bed.

The Sith herself sat down in the chair and placed a waiting hand on the head. Her eyes closed in meditation as her malicious influence spread through the castle like tendrils of shadow, searching for the Queen’s mind. Which, upon Ophidia’s mental touch, might feel compelled to retreat to her chambers and rest. Even though one by chance were to feel the malicious influence floating through the castle, the source of it was hidden. the pale assassin went to great lengths in order to maintain her concealment. This was too important for sloppiness.

[member="Thalia Rist"]

 

[cheshire_kitty]

Objective: 2
Location: Iziz Town Hall
Allies: The One Sith
Enemies: The Town Hall
Post: [1/20]

The buildings that once represented the Republic in Iziz had to be reduced to ashes to make way so the Sith Empire could rise from the ashes of the Republic and turn it into a city superior to the what is was when under the Republic's rule.

No civilian slaughter. That was an order from the top, and orders are to be followed, even if reluctantly.

“Our orders are to remove the eyesores that are the old Republic buildings from this city, but, the civilians must not be harmed in the process. Those are our orders." Konrad glared at his subordinates to ensure that they were paying attention. "The plan is simple, we will seperate into two groups with a majority evacuating the Town Hall and ensure everyone is safely out. Once building is clear, someone will fire a flare as a signal for the ship to drop its supply of fluorosulfuric acid bombs over the building. It will almost seem as if the building never existed.”

 

[Darth Grimoire]

Location: Iziz, Urban Center
Objective: Security/Assist Darth Vornskr
Allies Nearby: Darth Vornskr


This would be Grimoire's first campaign with the One Sith, since her operations on Aza'Zoth and the hunt for its Dark Forge. Sure, she wished to complete the final tasks her mother had commanded of her. But, her place was needed in the One Sith to establish her role. Marching right behind the Black Blades of [member="Darth Vornskr"], Grimoire was leading a procession of tactical squadrons sent as sentries to over see the security of the operations against Republic facades. Grimoire was a drifting red spectre, clad in red cloak with dark red straps that ran up her arms, legs and up and over her mouth stitched together to resemble sleeves and a scarf. Her golden eyes surveyed the urban landscape as she paraded beside her company.

Onderon was indeed a marvelous world. The capital itself was of some beauty. Grimoire smiled beneath her covered lower mask. A pleasant world to be sure. She watched the streets moved by her. Some abandoned, some still held a small remnant of the its once busy heritage. Small bands of natives would watch her back with scornful looks - Grimoire would meet every stare with a glare of her ow, only to have no resistance back. The dark daughter of Darth Hauntruss, hissed and cackled wit her head bent back. "Hiss, hiss, hiss." she barked. "Worms" she finished with an angered growl. She detested this world.

The sooner they purged it, the better.

 

[cheshire_kitty]

Objective: 2
Location: Iziz Town Hall
Allies: The One Sith
Enemies: The Town Hall
Post: [2/20]

The Iziz Town Hall was evacuated within the course of an hour. Everyone who was in the building at the time were sent home and warned to stay there for the day to ensure their safety from the destruction the One Sith was about to unleash on former Republic buildings. Once Konrad’s men ensured the safety of the civilians, the soldier who led the evacuation fired a flare, signalling for the ship to drop the Fluorosulfuric Acid Bombs on the building.

Within seconds of the flare being fired, acid bombs rained down on the Town Hall eating away at it until almost nothing remained of it. At the cessation of the bombing, Konrad had an alkaline solution dropped on to the affected area to neutralize the effects of the acid on the land so that the affected area can be safely accessed again.

Konrad admired the remnants of the building from the ship, proud of how easily the building was destroyed by his creations. It is always enjoyable to witness the destructive power of weapons of your own making.

 

[Corey's OOC]

Uno

Lucas was a bit fan of fire. And death. It was what forged the Sith. Hate, anger, fire, and fear. Throwing this at lesser beings? That was all it took to cause them to die. Now, Lucas had been at Balmorra, he fought the Republic, he helped repel them from their world. But the Sith had taken the former Republic world. And he wasn't sure why they were letting it stand.

Weak.
The Sith were weak, Lucas, you have to remember that. You have to change that.

That voice, who was it? Was it Lucas's? Possibly. But he wasn't sure. My life for you. Lucas knew that one as well, but he could't place it. Curiosity had brought him here. Maybe the ones who created him and Trin. And sent them to the Sith. But in order to find them? He was going to have to make waves. Walking down the street, black robes over armor suited for a Sith Marauder, he was walking through the square. Lightsaber quickly ignited and made short work of two citizens.

Extinguished as fast as it was lit, he continued on.

 

[Chevu Visz]

Objective: Stop the killing of civilians
Location: Iziz
Allies: NA
Enemies: [member="Lucas Gravois"]
1/20

Onderon was quite a long way away from Sullust, but there was a cluster of worlds recently lost by the Republic that Chevu Visz wanted to pay a visit. It was unclear to her how these worlds were faring in the wake of the Republic’s disintegrating influence over them. Onderon was her first stop. The whispers of One Sith fleets in space over the the world answered the Mirialan Knight’s questions for her. She would have to be extra vigilant as she traversed around the planet doing reconnaissance.

Dressed in street clothes, a beat-up leather jacket, black pants, and pod racing boots, Chevu was virtually indistinguishable from any other citizen. Other than her telltale light sided signature, and her visible lightsaber hilt, a deterent to anyone who wished her harm, she could have been a spacer, a smuggler, even a criminal. She also carried a blaster loaded with stun bolts, just in case.

The day itself was sunny and picturesque. Iziz citizens were out and about, the working stiffs on their lunch breaks, the University students tapping away on Datapads. A sudden scream rang out, and Chevu whirled around to face the source. In a square there, was a man cutting a deadly swath through innocent citizens. Guess she found the Sith.

She jogged through the square, brushing past panicked pedestrians. Once she got close enough, she drew her blaster and, dropping to one knee for more perfect aim, fired a stun bolt right at his chest.

 

[Krux Mullarus]

Location: Iziz City
Objective B: Down with the Republic
Allies: The One Sith
Enemies: Republic and Sympathizers
1/20

Patriot soared over the skyline of Iziz. At her helm sat Mullarus, who never thought he would see the day he would stare down at the capital of the Galactic Republic that forced him into this life so full of darkness and the lust for revenge.

Mullarus was not in the best mood today. Sure, it was a glorious day for the Empire and the Sith, but he had been denied the pleasure of burning Iziz to the ground. No civillian casualties. So the Reoubluc sympathizers were now protected. Great. The one world where Mullarus would have been more than happy to plunder and raze, and there would be none.

Maybe he would get lucky and the negotiations would let him do something more than burn down banners.

Stripe, the lone Amaran who decided to stay aboard Patriot and serve as a servant to Mullarus, stood by his side and offered him a glass of corellian ale. He snatched it out of his hand and took an angry sip. "Patriot, if it's blue and has the Republic symbol on it, highlight it. Charge the blaster cannons, too. I'll burn every sign of the Republic off of this blasted world."

Painting...Charging...

 

[Corey's OOC]

Dos
Obj: Show the Sith how to win the galaxy, beat up a green Jedi
Location: Next to a dead cop

Sith were going to control this world. Republic citizens were getting in the way of the manifest destiny, the birthright of the Sith. Lucas continued through the citizens, committing strikes at random. He wasn't caring who he hit, so long as someone fell to his blade. He had sighted an enforcement officer and used the Force to pull the man to him. Saber came up, and the neck disintegrated as a result of sharing the same space with his red blade. Red, not some Vong formed excuse for a blade. Forged and synthetic, powerful and willing to kill citizens.

If this world was to become the next strip mall of the Sith, it needed to lose some of its current population. They would cower in fear of the Sith, knowing the Republic was not coming to rescue them. The Alliance had to deal with some Sith off-shoot, and the Silver Coalition were doing.. whatever it does. But Lucas was a bit stronger than he had been at Balmorra, and he was sensing the shot come for him.

Crimson blade activating, he turned to catch the stun bolt on his blade, reaching out for the green being in the Force. He could feel her as having training, light, and weak, but training nonetheless.

"Ready to prove to this world how useless your kind is?"

[member="Chevu Visz"]