Private Cry Havoc

[Darth Virelia]

"Dark Forces Gather."

- TAG: Christoph Kudmol Voytger

Ruusan had loved her dearly. It had been a fruitful expedition indeed. Strange encounters, terrible secrets, and powers long thought buried had all fallen beneath the scrutiny of her violet gaze. The dead world had opened itself to her piece by piece, as though it too understood the inevitability of surrender before a will such as hers. Yet secrets never remained buried for long, not in a galaxy driven by greed and ambition.

Already, reports had begun to filter through the shadow networks she maintained so carefully. An expedition spearheaded by elements of the Sith Order had crossed beyond the Blackwall and descended upon Ruusan in search of prizes to claim for themselves. A military detachment accompanied them, likely assembled from ambitious officers and career opportunists eager to improve their standing before the decadent wastrel Lords who infested Jutrand like parasites feeding upon a dying beast.

Why now, of all times, remained unclear to her.

But the timing interested Virelia greatly.

Opportunity had a habit of disguising itself as coincidence to lesser minds, and she had long ago learned to distrust coincidence. Any number of individuals within this expedition could prove useful. Some might serve well beneath a scalpel and interrogation probe. Others could become test subjects for more esoteric experimentation. Perhaps one among them possessed sufficient talent to be shaped into something greater, or at the very least, into a vessel more comfortable than the ones she had discarded before.

Patience, however, would be key.

Evening came and went across Ruusan's scarred horizon. Darkness settled heavily over the ancient world as cold stars emerged above the forests and ruined valleys, their pale light barely piercing the thick veil of drifting mist that clung to the terrain. Across a treacherous cavern system lay the expected touchdown point of the incoming expedition, hidden among jagged stone formations and ancient wounds carved deep into the planet during wars long forgotten by most of the galaxy.

Virelia observed it all in silence.

It became apparent rather quickly that direct engagement would be wasteful. Far more intelligent would be to study them first. To understand why they had truly come here. To listen for loose tongues, fractured loyalties, whispered ambitions, and hidden fears. Soldiers spoke far more than they realised once exhaustion and distance from authority began to settle into their bones.

And she no longer possessed faith in the military arm of the Sith.

The Legions had become a failure of organisation and doctrine alike. Vast quantities of manpower, little true quality. Most of their victories had come against weakened enemies, poorly supplied holdouts, or desperate Imperials fighting on worlds already hostile to their survival. Their officers, non-existent in the structure of the Order.

Worse still, much of their opposition had already been quietly undermined from within by the machinations of others, like Her . To use the TIC as some grand benchmark against Sith military capability was, frankly, an asinine exercise in self-delusion. Rot disguised as strength remained rot all the same.

Which meant this little expedition interested her immensely.

For now, the Tyrant Queen intended to see with her own eyes just how far the military hand of the Sith had truly come since her exile from their Order.

 

[Christoph Kudmol Voytger]

Christoph was tired. Well and truly tired for the first time in a long time. It felt like he had been all over the Galaxy when in truth he had barely seen even a fraction of a fraction of a percent. He had fought and killed, yet his suffering continued when all he wanted to do was die a glorious death in service of the Sith. That had still eluded him. The hiss of depressurization and the whining hum of a loading ramp lowering filled the air of the shuttle's cabin. Standing up weary and exhausted, Christoph steeled himself in his resolve and dedication to his cause. A noble and righteous cause that brought him and this recovery team out to a world beyond the borders and veil of the only place he had ever called home. Some ancient and old world simply known as Ruusan.

As the Ramp opened a full squad of Troopers exited the shuttle that had touched down within an old war torn valley. A sixteen man unit comprised of four fire teams. Gunners, grenadiers, rifleman, and the various special personnel that made this a deadly but functional recovery team.
The job was simple. Enter the cave system, find the artifacts, take them and exfiltrate. Something that he and his brethren could handle easily. There was a sense of relief that this assignment would be something that he could lose himself in for a moment. To be close to the various Sith artifacts that littered this land. All his life he had wanted this. To go out with the priesthood and discover relics and serve them faithfully. To hear the sermons of priests of how he helped however he could in the acquisitions of these holy gifts.

Priming his blaster rifle he stepped off the ramp into an organized column where some private contractor awaited them. A Claimjumper type who scouted out these ruins and sold off the information and artifacts to the highest bidder. A disgusting yet useful heretic whose only concern was credits. It was always credits with these people. The debauchery and hedonism it brought them. He hated it. He hated the idea of credits. He always sent his back home to his family. To support them and the local parish.

"Take us there and you'll have your credits." Christoph watched as his Platoon leader made contact with the shady looking Nikto man.

"But of course." the Nikto contractor said in immediate response.

Turning around the man marched towards the cave system. He was but one of many in this region. Across the land Christoph was but one of a dozen teams all scouting and scouring the land im search of sacred artifacts.
The team around him began to talk. To open their mouths and chatter amongst one another. Christoph didn't blame them. It was a low stakes mission. After the last few and rigorous combat they saw. He knew they needed this break. Yet Christoph didn't speak to them, he had no friends, he had no social standing. How could he? All his life he grew up as this outlier in Sith society. A life rejected from serving the priesthood. What were they to talk about? Sermons, litanies, prayers? The exact size of a standard ritual circle? No, they wouldn't understand.
So Christoph simple remained silent as he and his team followed into the cave system. Their helmet lights activating as the dark swallowed them whole. What awaited him he knew not, but he would face it all the same.
Darth Virelia