Coercion is the Best Form of Persuasion | TSE Dominion of Chad / Centares

[Eye of Solomon]

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The fall of Mandalore had been the herald’s bell. For years, the Mandalorians had been seen as invisible, resolute, unwavering in their martial strength. For the Sith to cut the heart out of the Clans in one stroke had sent a ripple of despair across the cosmos, as neighboring systems realized that they too could suffer the same fate as Mandalore. Though there were more systems that would fight to the bitter end against the Empire, there were some who weighed the options of destruction and submission and preferred life to death.

Chad was one such system, its leaders having once thrown in their lot with the now disparate Autonomous Syndicate. Now they threw their gates open to the encroaching Sith Empire in the wake of the Mandalore’s fall, the reigning Stadholder requesting Imperial diplomats to begin formal annexation procedure for Chad and its surrounding systems.

Yet not all were so eager to kowtow. In the neighboring Maldrood sector, there hid a band of anti-Imperialist rebels who had used the forlorn world of Centares as a jump-pad to launch raids into convoys returning to Imperial space laden with cargo. The Empire had used Chad’s invitation to retaliate against these rebels, a punitive fleet speeding towards Centares to crush and to eradicate all rebel sympathizers in the sector. Knowing that they could not survive a prolonged conflict, the rebels have begun to evacuate en masse from the star systems.

It was better to live to fight another day than die a needless hero’s death.

The die was now cast, and the players set upon the board.

The invisible hand of the Emperor influenced all.

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Objective I: The Chad Diplomacy
The United Mandalorian Clans are no more, their loyal systems set ablaze by the advancing Sith war machine. Their conflagration serves as an example to nearby systems that resistance will only end with annihilation. Initially defiant, the Chadra-Fan of Chad have been heavily influenced by the downfall of the Mandalorians, whom they had once thought as invulnerable. Not eager to suffer the same fate, the Stadholder of Chad has instead invited Sith diplomats and emissaries to treat with him on Chad. In this gesture, he hopes that the Empire would look favorably on Chad and spare it’s people from suffering the same fate as others.

Objective II: The Virgin Centares
As the negotiations on Chad proceed, not all is well in neighboring sectors. Anti-Imperialist rebels have set up an airfield on Centares, and have been using it to strike out at local Imperial trade convoys to disrupt the Empire’s influence in the region. Now that the Saaraishash have located this airbase, the rebels are in full evacuation as the clenched fist of the Sith looms near. Destroy as many fleeing rebels as you can, prevent them from scattering.

Objective III: BYOO

 

[Rowan Devonshire]

Location: Centares, the Aviary
Objective: BYOO, A Little Wicca.

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[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=46rUBCewhxY[/media]

There would always be a day when a witch would have to walk a dark and hazardous line. A slip, slip, slip down the trickle of wickedness partly expected and partly unknown she would always know that the trip would mean emerging a little more blackhearted than she had upon entering. Rowan found the Aviary to be peaceful compared to the runabout of her home southeast of river Tudor in the quaint little town of Lancaster Hills.

Today's goal was to learn and obtain knowledge from the trees here, to gather items strong and rich in history in which to create powerful spells, balms, and potions with. It did involve a little sorcery, and a little druidism nothing out of the ordinary for a Galidraani witch. Nature can speak when men cannot, nature watched where men refused and it was thus that she would place her faith. Mr. Sedgwick her beautiful familiar sat perched along her shoulder. He cleaned his paws and then his ears, the black cat of Galidraan mewed with discontent.

"Fret not my dear, we shall call to our friend or see to our foe." She cooed with a hand along his jaw. Her eyes were the shade of the leaves that now covered the trees of the aviary, a deep - lush green. Rowan's jawline was sharp her smile curled as she closed her eyes. "Laever ot em ruoy ecneserp." She whispered so softly from lips painted blood red.

[member="Jenmae Ophiro"]

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

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Centares. It used to be the last “Civilized” stop before hitting the Outer Rim. Over thousands of years however, the Rim was seeing economic growth spurred on by various powerful factions that was making the Outer Rim one of the most profitable places to be in recent years with the Core all but abandoned to brigands, pirates, opportunists, and idealists. Now Centares was just another polluted ecumonopolis. Not quite Coruscant with its red rivers and hazy skies but with just enough comfort that most scum bags would confuse it for the luxury of the Core.

Old Centares was largely abandoned with various bombed out buildings and abandoned warehouses. One building in particular seemed grand in comparison to the others. A large museum dedicated to what the galaxy had once considered “The Old Republic”. Gil scoffed looking up at what had been the Resistance’s base of operations for the last few weeks.

Weeks. That was all it took for this base to be found out. He glanced up at the main hangar bay which had originally been intended for civilian freighters and transports which now housed dozens of fighters, transports and the like. Beside the huge blast doors was the Starbird. This particular design was reminiscent of the ancient Rebellion. He snickered. They could have been a little more subtle he guessed.

Back in the hangar he was quickly swept up by pilots and droids confirming flight patterns, confirming what transports held what supplies or personnel, and a battle plan should the Sith arrive before they leave.

“General Skirata,” came a voice he didn’t quite recognize. How did he become a General after all this time? He was supposed to be retired. He turned and recognized that it was one of the Lieutenants of the local rebel cell that he was helping evacuate.

“What is it?” He asked.

“They’re here General. The Sith are here.”

 

[Jenmae Ophiro]

Location: The Aviary, Centares
Objective: BYOO {Witchy Stuff}
Wearing: XXX
Attending: [member="Rowan Devonshire"]

Rebellion... Adorable.

The pale vision could recall a time when the idea of rebellion had appealed. The thought of riotous violence against those whom had wronged her - transgressed against the ones she cared for most. Thoughts belonging to a child, hopes that died along with any semblance of innocence she'd clung to in those early years. No. The Sith were like an ever encroaching dark cloud to the North, and she had no interest in joining any foolish attempts to stifle their reach.

Instead, an invitation had brought the young witch to the system. So long she'd remained separate, distancing herself from those who called her former world home, and when she'd finally come face to face with what the Confederacy called witches, she'd found their deeply rooted regard for life and balance to be distasteful. The Spirits were not her friends - and she had no desire to make those amount of Mandragora friends either. So, much to her surprise, when she'd taken steps to collect an item from Dathomir and stumbled across a gathering of Sith magick users, she found them far less concerned with the balance that her former cohorts had toted as sacred.

So when she'd been invited to join Ms. Devonshire on Centares, it came with a twinge of interest. The White Witch strode silently along in the woman's wake, her dull gaze watching with no small amount of interest as the feline that coiled about the witch's shoulders bathed itself. She seemed to share a deal of affection with the creature... Interesting.

"We're here for the trees?" The phantom's voice was devoid of intent, barely audible over the sound of their feet falling gently upon the ground. Peeling her eyes away from the cat, she instead turned her gaze about the pair, scanning idly as she kept pace.

 

[Rowan Devonshire]

Location: The Aviary, Centares
Objective: A Little Wicca (BYOO)

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[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JJ6K21NH-Bk[/media]

A soft and casual nod, "the trees speak where men hold their tongues between their pockets and coins." Rowan remarked she could scarcely hear the White Witch's feet touch the ground. Centares was a world that had seen many come and go but it was the Aviary that spoke most dear to the Covens. "Once birds sang such sweet songs, now no longer - and in their place remains the skeleton fragments of yesterday." How fragile life truly was, there wasn't time to care or want of war - oh the toys men did desire to harbor against one another. Her black lace dress over the thin fabric the shade of belladonna.

"Mr. Sedgwick, if you would you be so kind as to make our points?"

The cat mewed in protest a moment, he flicked his gaze toward the White Witch and with such leisure did he judge her. Sedgwick lept from his charge's shoulder and in an instant disappeared into the green of the Aviary. Overhead the birds that remained cawed something dreadful, "once the pentagram has been painted we shall reveal the secrets that remain hidden within these trees."

She would only be grateful to have been appointed a representative of Lilith, sent forth to meet and mingle with the Covens of the Empire. Mr. Sedgwick's form seemed to blur around the pair his paws touched and marked five points around the Aviary. He climbed back upon his perch on Rowan's shoulders. She rolled her head to an invisible beat within her mind. "Yraiva 'seratneC taerg em ot laever aisodoehT taerg ho, em ot seert eseht fo yortsih eht htorf wohs eeht ksa I htiliL rehtoM, rewop tneicna ruo nopu llac I, srethguad fo elcriC." Rowan's voice resounded in such beautiful harmony and it carried throughout the aviary as the five points revealed the pentagram that Sedgwick had so carefully created.

[member="Jenmae Ophiro"]

 

[Gideon Saigo]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4OAkUelXoVY​

Objective II: The Virgin Centares

The whims of wealthy individuals made some rich and others miserable.

As a bounty hunter, he mostly ended up categorized in the former. Such whims were what brought him to Centares, or well - Old Centares. A crumbling picture of what once was a central hub of activity of the planet before its growth and prosperity. Lawless, abandoned and turned into slums. No wonder the so-called Resistance had found it as a perfect spot for a base of operations...for a time before the Sith sniffed them out.

The Resistance, like any other armed group, Jair knew, had its own private donors. Rich people who either believed in their ideals or saw them as an opportunity for them to use them to fulfill their own personal agenda. The reasoning behind the sponsorship hardly interested Ordo. He had a job to do - aid the Resistance in their evacuation efforts. With the long rifle slung across his back and with the head on his shoulders - Jair was a formidable opponent if underestimated.

His reference point was the General and the Mandalorian assuredly walked down through the hangar following the tracker and showing the letter of safe conduct from his benefactor. The rebel base was all that he expected - spartan, cheap and very makeshift. What he didn't expect was to see a face very familiar to every Mandalorian across the galaxy. Ordo silenced the tracker, putting it back in a hidden pocket next to his durasteel chestplate and stopping half a dozen feet from [member="Gilamar Skirata"].

The T-visor helmet jerked to the side fully watching the old man.

"Didn't expect an old hermit to be a general of a bunch of rebel rats." Jair said, smirking beneath his helmet. Sure, the man most likely did not know the bounty hunter but he'd recognize a Mandalorian 'gam, the long cloak and the fading symbol of clan Ordo painted on his right shoulder pad. "Your benefactor sent me as help, old man." he pointed out the obvious.

 

[Darth Wyyrlok XXIV]

Objective: Negotiate Chad's annexation
Location: Chadra Orbital Station

The Chadra-Fan were a curious species.

Diminutive with an inclination to tinker, none would look at them and think for a second that they would make for a people to be inducted into the great Sith Empire. But that was where the Empire succeeded, it saw the potential in all creatures and knew how to best accentuate those skills. Gone were the old days of Humanocentrism espoused by contemporary Imperial states, discarded in favor of a meritocratic system where the strongest could rise above those of middling mediocrity.

The Lord-Emperor would give the Chadra-Fan the same chance to rise high as every other civilization subsumed by the Empire, for he was just.

To avoid any unpleasantries with Chad's turbulent weather patterns, the Stadholder of Chad had offered the Empire use of the planet's orbital station to host the negotiations. Leading the discussion from the Empire's perspective was Darth Wyyrlok, the twenty-fourth of his name, who arrived to the station in an Imperial shuttle accompanied by lesser dignitaries and an honor guard of Sith Knights. He strode down from the boarding ramp, his robes as magnificent as the tattoos which covered every inch of his flesh. Awaiting him was the Stadholder himself, dressed in finery that looked a tad comical on a creature so small and rodent-like.

A protocol droid stood next to the Stadholder, ready to translate his native language into Basic. "The Stadholder of Chadra welcomes you to his home, Master Sith." spoke the protocol droid, "He hopes that you find your accommodations to your liking, and offers thanks to Emperor Carnifex for this meeting." Though Lord Wyyrlok bowed to now one, he did incline his head in respectful greetings to the smaller alien. "Our Lord-Emperor is generous, Stadholder, his wisdom infinite. May he smile upon your people this day, for by tomorrow they will be a part of the great Sith Empire."

"The Stadholder agrees, and urges for the meeting to begin without delay in the conference chamber."

"Lead the way."

 

[Keva]

[SIZE=11pt]Objective: [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]2, Assault Centares[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Location: [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]En route to Airfield[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Tags: [member="Anden Fancelo"][/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Keva had chosen a good time to come to Sith space, the crucible have battle was raging hard in the onset of the Mandalorian defeat: it was leaving a great many chances for her to prove herself quickly and viciously, but she had decided beurachracy was getting in the way of that.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Whilst twice prior Keva was commanding an army of troops, small or otherwise. Within the Sith she could muster a singular squad through request: she held no rank in these parts and her previous accomplishments were given a dismissive glance at best; whilst Keva could appreciate the cold brutality, it left her with a blistering frustration this time around. She [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]knew[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] if given the proper forces she could end this battle in two standard hours at most, the rebels who could even get close to surviving would be left battered and harmless. But no, she had a squad. And that was it.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Though technically speaking she did not even have command of Onyx Squad, she was an attachment rather than part of the command structure. And as they progressed onwards towards their objective she sat in a blistering silence, she had enough faith in these troopers. But she needed more, much more.[/SIZE]

 

[Anden Fancelo]

Centares, enroute to the Airfield​

[Objective]: II: Eliminate rebel forces.​

[Ally]: [member="Keva"]​

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Spoiler

[video]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mALb1F46o8w[/video]

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The squad of seven was pitted with the chiss sith. The figuratively wounded yet still combat effective Onyx sat on their seats in the shuttle. Each of them tending to their own in their idle time. One of the members of Onyx, a titan of a man would pass a few glances over to the chiss. Though one can figure that his helmeted glances to the Sith were not of infatuation, but glances of fascination. For Onyx was graced with the presence of a Sith. A most rare thing to occur in their operations given their 'outsider' status, being former soldiers of a Sovereignty long forgotten. But it seemed that hulking individual seemed to be the only one to truly appreciate it.

The Captain, Anden Fancelo stepped into the passenger bay from the cockpit. Looking over to Maxevan for a moment and then calling him.

"Lieutenant Maxevan!" He barked.

The man that was giving a long glance to the sith broke his gaze and turned towards his leader. "Yes sir?" He responded eagerly.

"Get the others ready, we're closing in. You got a mike." The Captain stated, before stepping over towards the Sith.

While Maxevan was on the way to get the band of Gravewalkers ready. Anden put his arms behind him and crossing his wrists, he bowed his head in greeting. "My lady, we are approaching the landing zone. And given how close we'll be, it'll likely be a hot landing. So once we step out, we'll be knee deep in a firefight. Should be fine." He gave a shrug.

 

[Eye of Solomon]

Objective: Kill The Rebels
Location: HIMS Unvanquished

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A small flotilla exited hyperspace within sight of Centares, a single Marr-class Star Destroyer and four Harrower-class Cruisers. It was hardly enough hardware to properly assault a civilized world, but fortunately all they had come to eradicate was single rebel base in the midst of an evacuation. Fighters screeched from docking moors as the boots of black-plated Legionnaires thundered across durasteel decks, an orderly procession filling the hulls of dropships and gunboats.

"It seems we caught them in the middle of their scurrying, brother."

"Oh, how I do love to watch rats scurry..."

The pair stood on the command deck of the star destroyer: one an imposingly tall Zabrak male in black cloth and leather garments that left the center of his chest exposed, and the other a smaller lithe Zabrak woman in form-fitting garb sectioned as to expose her right arm and the top half of her left thigh whilst a shawl encompassed the majority of her head. Both of them were Force-users, the weapons that hung from their hips was more than a testament to that, but they were more than simple Sith.

They were the children of the Emperor, the man was Kadurin and the woman was Nikishina. Both were twins born to the Empress-Consort Izaszh, and like their mother they were both talented shapeshifters. Zabraks were their preferred visage to wear, both twins mimicking the other to maintain their unique bond and status. Brother Kadurin turned to the deck officer standing idly behind them, "Prepare our shuttle, I wish to see the meager faces of these terrorists." The officer bowed at the waist, and turned about to inform the shuttle pilots to prepare their ship.

Soon the two Princelings of the Emperor would depart their warship for the chaos and conflict of Centares down below.

[member="Gilamar Skirata"] | [member="Jair Ordo"]
[member="Keva"] | [member="Anden Fancelo"]​

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

Objective: Evacuate the Rebels
Allies: [member="Jair Ordo"]
Enemies: [member="Eye of Solomon"] [member="Anden Fancelo"][member="Keva"]

He cursed under his breath. Already? He thought they had more time.

"How are those cannons looking? I know they were old but-" Gil paused as his eyes caught sight of a familiar sight. Beskar'gam. He wondered if it was actually a Mandalorian under that helmet. So much of their armor had escaped into the wild since Mandalore fell it was almost a 50/50 chance. The way he walked and carried himself and the fading Clan Ordo symbol and knew he had a friend.

He gave the Mando a smirk before nodding to the local Lieutenant.

"Get a move on those cannons. And see if that slicer has got those battle droids back online. Our ships will need cover. Our ride should be here soon." The man nodded and dashed off deeper into the old museum turned rebel base. Gil turned his attention back to the Mando and reached out, offering his arm to grasp.

"Its been too long since I've seen an Ordo," he said fondly. The last time he'd seen an Ordo was during the Civil War, just before Jaster went out to what would be his final battle.

"Hopefully, if you survive this you can tell our mutual friend thank you for me."

 

[Jenmae Ophiro]

Location: The Aviary, Centares​

Objective: BYOO {Witchy Stuff}​

Wearing: XXX​

Attending: [member="Rowan Devonshire"]​

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Unable to hide the soft smile that tugged at the edges of her lips following her companions comment about men, Jenmae continued to allow her gaze to wander. The trees that surrounded them seemed sparsely filled... The birds that called softly set to screaming as the once lounging cat made instead to set about beginning the ritual that her host had brought them to enact.

Careful steps set her beside one of the massive trunks, taking the moments before the points were drawn to glide pale fingers along the rough bark. The trees thrummed with life, and it heartened the specter to feel it. Where there was life, there could be death... There could be a power gained at a cost if one was willing to pay it. Lifting her other hand to lay it against the trunk as well, eyes lifted to scan the branches above, thick with lush green leaves, moving gently where the birds flitted about their canopies.

The blur of black fur finally returned to Rowan's side, and reluctantly the Dathomiri native dragged herself away from the grove and returned to the edge of the large five pointed star the familiar had made. The soft sounds of chanting were a comfort to her, a feeling of kinship in an otherwise sterile world - though it was over almost as quickly as it had begun. It was an unfamiliar kind of magick, so the fair-haired creature did not dare to add anything of her own without being bidden.

Instead she remained at the fringe, content to observe, curious about the creature that her host had used to draw her points, and wondering silently at it's other abilities. "And we're here for the fragments, I assume?"

 

[Gideon Saigo]

Objective II: The Virgin Centares
Allies: [member="Gilamar Skirata"]
Enemies: [member="Eye of Solomon"], [member="Anden Fancelo"], [member="Keva"]


Jair nodded at old man Skirata's acknowledgement.

"We're still kickin' but with all these schisms I am surprised there's still Mandos out there." the Ordo replied jokingly but there was a note of bitterness in his voice recognizable. Recent Mandalorian history was drenched with blood between factions. Jair wanted none of it but it was a topic he tried to stay away from.

"Come on, old man Skirata, we are not planning on dying against the Sith, right?" he smirked and then added. "Call me Jair."

Another rebel officer interrupted their conversation reporting to Gilamar. "Incoming Sith vessels making landfall nearby, General, and our hyperspace relay has detected Sith destroyers arriving in orbit."

"You got this place rigged to blow, right?" Jair asked. "That's a rebel thing to do, ain't it?"

Since the Sith were coming in to sweep them out, they would usually come with an overwhelming force to do the job quickly and efficiently. The rebels sure worked fast to evacuate but Ordo knew time was viciously against them.

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

The young man's words rung true, but only partially. The Mandalorians had never been truly "united". There had always been a group here or there throughout their history that distanced itself from Mandalore itself. Be it for money or ideological differences, their history had created a diverse set of ideals...

He thought back to the pirate wars of his youth. The man wasn't wrong.

He nodded, acknowledging the young Mando's name. Jair. He'd remember that. He sucked his teeth and began walking towards a tactical display that was dumped haphazardly near a corner of the hangar. He could already see the readouts from here. Several heavy cruisers and a Star Destroyer.

"No...Not to blow. There's no data here that the Sith could use to their advantage. The different cells have been keeping to themselves..." Though that needed to change if they were really going to put a dent in the Sith. Oddly for a Mandalorian, Gil wasn't wearing his armor. A fact he hoped to rectify soon.

"Jair, I need you to get out there and hold the line as long as you can. I'll be there shortly to join you but I need to stay here for a few minutes to make sure the last ships are packed and ready to fly when my ships get here. It won't be enough to keep the Sith busy for long. When those ships arrive we need to fall back to the hangar and launch. Don't be late, or you're getting left behind."

[member="Jair Ordo"]

 

[Gideon Saigo]

Objective II: The Virgin Centares
Allies: [member="Gilamar Skirata"]
Enemies: [member="Eye of Solomon"], [member="Anden Fancelo"], [member="Keva"]

Jair would've rigged the place to go bang when the Sith started sniffing after the rebels departed. Sith were a curious bunch, very inquisitive. It's why he'd heard only of Sith Inquisitors but not a Jedi equivalent. Yet, this wasn't his shindig and he wasn't here on a consultancy job. General Skirata would know better either way, that Mando was as old as dirt.

" 'lek, got it." the Ordo replied with an affirmative and began picking various weapons that lied around. "If I'm going to be holding this alone, I'm gonna go ahead and requisition these stuff. And don't even think of a taking that off my fee."

A heavy repeating blaster, a long range pulse cannon, a blaster carbine, a couple of pistols, some grenades and a mini-portable shield were all part of the shopping bag forming in his hands. It looked like he carried a haystack of weapons in his hands. Jair headed towards the entrance of the old museum-turned-base and gave one glance back at Skirata.

"It's weird seeing you without your 'gam, old man." Jair simply noted and turned back walking towards where the Sith were logically to try and breach through.

Behind various steel crates and other nondescript objects capable for cover, the Ordo lied down the stack of weapons on the ground neatly. He set them apart and memorized where was what. If the Sith were coming in with Force and Jair was the only one standing 'valiantly', there would be no time for reloading let alone for looking down at the weapons. Everything had to happen by muscle memory. The mercenary set the heavy repeating blaster on top of the cover along with the mini-portable shield generator. If Jair had any advantage was that the space through where the alleged assault was to happen was not extremely large.

"So Mando, right?" he muttered to himself as he observed the arsenal of weapons he had to utilize by himself. Or at least until GIlamar came up to help him.

 

[Eye of Solomon]

Objective: Kill The Rebels
Location: Centares

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The Legionnaires advanced on foot, entire platoons moving through the muck and the grime supported by towering Heavy Enforcer walkers and newly produced Rapid Enforcer walkers. Their dark silhouettes could be seen on the horizon, the light of the distant sun casting dark shadows from their towering frames. Rockets spun through the air on lethal collision courses, detonating with tremendous force to send both Rebel and Imperial scattering. Strike fighters danced overhead, squadrons of pilots taking aim at enemy fighters, ground combatants, and moored evacuation transports while bombers approached in the distance, their holds laden with high explosives.

It was a frantic race for both sides. The Rebels had to evacuate before they were overrun, and the Imperials had to guide their heavy ordnance into position to lay waste to the entire base. The uneven and disparate terrain made the fight all the more chaotic, as uneven fronts began to form where the two forces clashed.

A shuttle cut through the turbulence, making a hasty stop over a level strip of land and opening its boarding ramp. Two figures emerged from within the ship's hold, the two Princelings of the Sith Emperor with their lightsabers ignited. In tandem they deflected and redirected blaster bolts headed their way, the larger brother using the Dark Side to wrench several Rebels towards him while the smaller sister charred their bodies to cinder with bursts of lightning from her fingertips.

"Crush these reprobates for the Emperor!"

[member="Gilamar Skirata"] | [member="Jair Ordo"]​

[member="Keva"] | [member="Anden Fancelo"]​

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Objective: Indirectly Assist with the Negotiations
Location: Surface of Chad

With a four year old and a newborn, Taeli had taken a step back from being too involved in the affairs and expansion of the Sith Empire. She focused her efforts on her family and her experiments, although she was still in contact with the Emperor and the upper echelon of the Sith as the Triumvir of Power. She had been aware of the negotiations that were being prepared by [member="Darth Wyyrlok XXIV"] to annex the world of Chad into their empire, and she had no desire to overshadow the Chagrian's efforts. However, she was certainly happy to indirectly augment his hand.

On an observation platform on one of the few mountains of Chad, Taeli and engineers from her company, Aurora Industries, were preparing a little test. The Chadra-Fan had lived centuries in fear of the violent storms and tsunamis that plagued their world. Much of it, as far as she was told, was brought about by the planet's one major industry: dairy production. Apparently the native lactils could produce an ungodly amount of milk for consumption or refinement, but they also expelled a massive amount of methane into the planet's atmosphere. On top of the low technology level of the planet, it was an ecological disaster to say the least. But it was one she and her company could help with.

"Are the droids ready?" she asked the lead engineer on the mission.

"Almost done with the calibrations, my Lady," the Aurora engineer answered. "Another few minutes and we'll be ready to run the tests."

"Hopefully your claims on their prowess are true, Lady Arcanix," the Chadra-Fan official commented.

Taeli's response to merely smile more and nod politely at the sentient rodent. "Mommy, that's a reallllllyyyyy big storm," Nerralyn comment. Taeli's smile widened as her daughter ran into the room. She had begun the young girl's education, including a little Force training, but nothing too much yet. She had more brought along her elder daughter because she wanted to see where the milk at home came from.

"Indeed it is, dear," she said.

 

[Rowan Devonshire]

Location: The Aviary, Centares
Objective: A Little Wicca, BYOO

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Rowan merely nodded a flash of ichor green ran through her eyes, "fragments of the birds, the ichor of their suffering and the bittersweet memories of yesterday." She cooed to Sedgwick and turned to catch but a glimpse of the White Witch. She drew in a deep breath and exhaled she watched as her breath danced along the illuminated path, "there is power here waiting to be harvested, as Mother promised." Mother. Mother could have implied the Nightmother Izahves herself or perhaps the Unholy Mother of the Galidraani' witches, however, the implication was taken it was the truth.

She curled her finger in a come hither motion, "follow me if you so wish, come with me and we shall see to the tree and its leaves, the remains unseen the hollowed and brittle bones of the birds and what power they hold." Again the word was used and perhaps to a Force user they would have seen nothing but lights and a show but to the witches, it was more than that. A magenta-colored hue drew across the Aviary leading to the five points when the White Witch stepped into the pentagram's borders she too would feel the unholy darkness that dripped from its lumens.

At the first point a tree with a hollowed-out knot, Sedgwick leaped from her shoulder and seemed to disappear into the knot. He returned moments later with a bone, disappeared and returned once more with a second bone. An eerie ghoulish green glow emanated from these bones, and Rowan held the second out for the witch. "Would you do the honors?"

[member="Jenmae Ophiro"]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mTyPadlvqow[/media]

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

Gil shrugged off the brown coat he'd been wearing before, revealing a almost skin tight flightsuit with a hexagonal shaped device centered on his chest. With a tap the Mandalorian Iron Heart began spreading across his body, leaving the armor that Gil would be wearing today.

Jair wouldn't be alone. While Gil wasn't in his gam, it didn't mean he wasn't here as a Mando...Or that he came alone. A small band of valiant Rebel fighters would stay behind and fight so that others may live another day. They lined up beside Jair and gave him curt nods as they took up positions on heavy repeating blasters or behind cover as the Sith marched onwards.

From the hangars a mixed group of Mandalorian Fang fighters and old Alliance Crossfires streaked out of the hangar, a first wave of fighters to keep the enemy at bay. The rest would have to stay with the shuttles until whatever reinforcements Gil had organized arrived. It would be close...And he knew it.

The sound of the battle finally reached the inner hangar and Gil knew it was time to go. With a few more taps on the datapad the tactical holodisplay deactivated and ejected a small datachip. He took it, knowing that with this data the Empire could probably wipe them all out. With a grimace he shoved it into one of the pockets on his flightsuit and hefted a scatter blaster from a crate. Sure the data was deleted...But slicers always had their way if the machine was still in working order. He pulled the trigger several times, turning the entire computer display to slag and pressed a finger to the com in his ear as he jogged out towards the mouth of the hangar.

<Atin, its go time.> he said in Mando'a. The sounds of the battle were getting closer and the armor had almost fully encased him now. Kriff it all, where were those damn fools? Just as he was about to look down at his chrono his helmet fully formed and activated, giving him most of the information he wanted to know. Several countdowns were spinning. One of the countdowns hit zero and right on cue the automated defense turrets began firing at incoming fighters. Droid brain controlled cannons were almost never better than the more modern dual control seen on most capital ships, especially cannons that were as old as these, but they were better than nothing and it gave the enemy one more thing to think about when they were flying.

The countdown to their salvation.

[member="Eye of Solomon"] [member="Jair Ordo"] [member="Anden Fancelo"] [member="Keva"]

 

[Karsan Munin]

Fire.

It was a fire, that raged in all Mandalorians. The trick was, lighting it. The time for who to blame was over. The Mandalorian Clans, failed. They failed, and they were gone, and they had no way to take back Mandalore.

Yet.

But that was neither here, nor there. That was a lie, actually. A damn lie. It was here. It had to start somewhere, right? No better place, no better time. Fires gotta start from embers, after all. So that's why Karsan had gone to Chad to show the virgins how it's done. But then found out that he had to go Centares to get it started. So all the jokes he had planned, out the window.

All metaphors and yadda yadda aside, Karsan Munin had one specific job to do now: make Sith in front of him, extra- extra. Extra. Dead. With a capital D. Which was not the case, because currently, after using every magazine he had, then using a Sith trooper's weapon, then using all of that guy's ammo, then all of his grenades, then all of the Sith trooper's grenades, then all of another Sith trooper's ammo, and then having to use the previous rifle as a battering ram, and then dropping his knife, Karsan Munin was currently running away like a little girl towards the last line of rebel defense, minus any audible screaming because it was comically muffled by his bucketed head.

Which, turned out to be one nerf herder, as far as the defenses went(besides him).

But as Karsan Munin, covered in blood, mud, sweat, and a teensy bit of tears, saw that there was a nice collection of guns that someone had just left lyin' around.

Lucky day for him indeed. He picked up the carbine and a nearby pistol, tucking it brutishly into the webbing, like an animal, because Karsan had used his holster to smack a Sith earlier. Didn't really work. Shame. Was a nice holster. He then looked over at some other nerf herder, stuck in the same boat as he was, except, Karsan was dirtier.

"They're comin' and they are pissed off!"

Tended to happen if you throw things and kill a few of their friends. People got mad.

[member="Eye of Solomon"] l [member="Gilamar Skirata"] l [member="Jair Ordo"]