Junction ESCALATION PROTOCOL: COV and MIR Junction of Champala and Zigoola Hexes

[Feydrik Munin]

"We few, we happy few, we band of brothers."

AGAINST DARKNESS




ESCALATION PROTOCOL:
COV and MIR Junction of Champala and Zigoola




SAGA OF IRON AND ASH






War drums echoed in the minds of the Mando’ade. The battles had been costly and violent, but the drums of war did not cease; they did not deafen, they did not silence.

The Iron Covenant continues along its righteous warpath against the Sith; now, no longer alone. With the intent of establishing allies against the overwhelming might of the Sith, the Mandalorians turned their heads towards the Imperials -- the Mahporeem Imperial Remnant.

An uneasy, if not callous, relationship is blossoming. Bonds will be made, and decisions will be made, all while the drums of war echo. The Mythos Fleet’s march has begun to increase its tempo.

Across countless star systems, important and not, the Mythos Fleet emerged from the furthest reaches of the abyss as if a dark shadow. Their arrival was not announced with trumpets nor fanfare, but with a deafening silence as suppressive cruisers induced complete communication blackouts.

The Mandalorian Crusade of the Core Worlds begins.

Objective 1 | Bilbringi



The Iron Covenant seeks to expand its logistical might and its ability to be reinforced across the tyrannous stars. The Mahporeem Imperials have agreed to provide material support in exchange for future support fighting the Sith and the Imperials’ enemies. The Caragachi Commonwealth, Farworlds Alliance and Hegemony of Vandemar have also pledged their cause to the fight, and their leaders join the Bilbringi Conference.


This mapping and searching is dangerous, yet vital to their campaign. Mandalorian and Imperial leaders must come together to discuss the ins and outs of their proposed war plan, and the logistical and leadership challenges they must overcome and face together.


Leaders and Commanders gather on Bilbringi in a large conference to discuss their new and fledgling alliance on the surface, the mighty shipyards looming above them…

Objective 2 | Foerost


The forlorn world of Foerest will become a tomb for many.


The Covenant and Imperials attack the shipyards to secure a beachhead on the planet below. By securing the shipyards, the combined forces of Mahporeem and the Iron Covenant plan to enact lightning-fast operations across the rest of the planet in order to dismantle the enemy’s ability to resist and escape. Yet a Sith patrol fleet -- a Star Destroyer with escort cruisers and picket craft -- is present to stem the onslaught.

Objective 3 | Pelagon


Hell is an apt word to describe the battle on the water platform of Pelagon. Upon the arrival of the combined Mandalorian-Imperial fleet in orbit, the small Sith garrison entrenched itself deep within the industrial catacombs of Pelagar, the capital platform of the water world, grinding the Imperials and Iron Covenant to a nigh-standstill after a stalemate-inducing initial assault.

As brutal night descends over Pelagar, the Imperials and Covenant must now come up with a plan to assault the Sith positions, or risk the entire operation failing. Mandalorian savagery and Imperial precision and lethality must come together, or risk the entire operation falling apart. This world may make tombs and graves of the Imperial and Covenant troops- or it may make them brothers.




​

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[Minni Ordo]

The crash landing left a metallic taste in Minni's mouth, but her HUD flickered back to life, revealing the wet, rust-covered gantries of the lower warehouse. Above her, starfighters tore across the sky while distant artillery rumbled through the catacombs. Somewhere in the chaos, Alor Feydrik Munin continued the Mandalorian offensive, working to surround the water platform and prevent reinforcements from the Core Worlds from arriving.

Minni hauled herself out of the water and unclipped her carbine, keeping it close as she moved in case someone was waiting to ambush her. She had been tempted to plant a seismic charge beneath the structural pylons and enjoy the satisfying crash as the deck collapsed, but the squad leader's warning about unauthorized explosives during the briefing had put an end to that idea. Unfortunately, following orders meant missing out on all the fun.

Ahead, a Sith trooper stood watching the dogfights overhead, completely unaware of her approach. Minni slipped behind him, hooked his collar, and drove her blade into the gap beneath his helmet. She lowered his body onto the metal deck without a sound before wiping her blade clean and moving on.

Further ahead, blue plasma fire suddenly lit up the darkness as a group of Imperial stormtrooper survivors scrambled behind a line of rusted crates for cover. Minni leaned casually against a crane housing and watched the bolts come through the fog. With her thumb resting against the arming switch of a thermal detonator, she decided to enjoy the spectacle for a moment before joining the fight.

 

[Shae'ri Mor]

Pelagon

Equipment • Scrapborn | Scrapfangs | Scrapveil
Sidekick (occasionally) • Clunk3r
Command • x25 Scrap Hounds | x45 ZQ Infantry Support Unit | x300 Coretroopers x1,000 Drakonis Praetorian Guard
Location • X
Interaction{s} • Jericho Dragr

Knight Mor stood within one of several NZ/IFVr-01A/B "Cohort" infantry fighting vehicles as the armored formation advanced toward the staging ground, surrounded by the mechanical silhouettes of droids, the rigid ranks of Coretroopers, and the silent ranks of clone soldiers.

Outside, the battlefield trembled beneath the thunder of NZ HT-97A "Ronhar"main battle tanks, their heavy guns methodically hammering enemy strongholds ahead of the advance. Each barrage tore into fortified positions, attempting to collapse defensive emplacements and filling the air with fire and debris. The Sith forces were being softened before the main landing force ever touched ground.

Inside the "Cohort", Shae'ri remained still, one hand resting against her weapon as she reached down with the other and patted the mechanical head of a nearby Scraphound. Through the Force, she felt the collection of beings surrounding her; not as one unified army, but as a collection of differing wills.

The droids possessed only their programmed purpose, cold and uncomplicated. The Coretroopers carried a strange mixture of nervousness and excitement, their anticipation betraying the uncertainty beneath their discipline.

The clones were different. Their minds were unnervingly quiet, shielded from intrusions, their emotions suppressed into near-nothingness, broken only by the occasional tightening of fingers around blaster rifles. They were not afraid. They were simply waiting to begin.

Shae'ri activated the "Cohort"'s comlink, opening the channel connecting the armored vehicles moving toward the docks. Her voice carried through the transport and across the formation with the blunt clarity of a battlefield order.

"Once we hit the docks, keep moving until we secure them. We need to ensure the docks are under our control before the rest of the landing parties arrive. If anyone falls, leave them and let the medical droids do their job."

She paused as another "Ronhar" barrage erupted beyond the armored column, the distant impact rolling through the hull like thunder. Her hand remained upon the Scraphound's battered mechanical skull as she looked toward the approaching staging ground.

"Good luck. See you on the docks."

The transmission ended. Around her, the soldiers prepared themselves in silence. The droids waited for their commands. The Coretroopers checked their weapons. The clones tightened their grips. And Shae'ri Mor stood among them all, watching the battlefield burn toward the inevitable moment when the doors would open and the killing would begin.​

 

[Jyote Veyr]

Location: Bridge, MIN TBD,
Laimar-class stealth carrier
Objective: 2 - Foerost
Tags: OPEN

The tactical display was getting crowded. Jyote Veyr liked it that way. Blue Imperial markers advanced across the holotable in disciplined formations, mingling uneasily with the identifiers belonging to their Covenant allies. Beyond them burned the red contacts of the Sith patrol fleet: the Star Destroyer at its heart, cruisers protecting its flanks, picket craft spread outward to give the larger ships warning against exactly what Jyote intended to send at them.

Around her, the carrier's combat information center hummed with restrained urgency. Officers called reports between stations. Sensor operators refined contacts. Somewhere beneath several decks of armor, deck crews were already clearing fighters from launch racks as quickly as the carrier could throw them into space.

Jyote sat in the middle of it all. She hated sitting. Her fingers moved over her console, dividing the Mahporeem fighter complement into groups as telemetry began feeding into her display.

"First wave, don't chase anything." A few heads turned. Jyote didn't bother looking up. "The pickets want you chasing them. They scatter, you follow, and suddenly you're far enough from our guns for their friends to murder you."

Her finger traced the Sith formation. "Make them choose instead." Squadron assignments changed across the tactical plot. "Interceptor groups Aurek and Besh, push the picket screen. Fast and loud. I want their pilots convinced you're trying to punch straight through."

She shifted another group. "Cresh and Dorn, stay behind them. You're not there to help unless Aurek and Besh actually need it. Watch what moves." That was the important part. Not the first move. The answer to it.

Jyote leaned forward as the first Mahporeem fighters streaked away from the carrier. For an instant she imagined herself among them. Hands wrapped around a flight stick. Engines vibrating through the seat. Stars turning into lines across the canopy as she rolled beneath incoming fire. Ghostfield back where she belonged. Her injured body supplied a dull reminder that imagination was easier than reality. Jyote's mouth tightened. Then she shoved the thought aside.

"Controller to all Mahporeem flights. Ghostfield has tactical." Her voice went out across the fighter net. Calm. Almost casual. "Keep your comms short. Don't tell me you're scared. I already know. Don't tell me somebody's shooting at you either. That's generally how this works."

A few nervous laughs crackled across the channel. Good. Jyote watched the Sith formation. The first Imperial contacts were nearly within engagement range. "Tell me what matters. Who moved. Where they moved. What they're protecting." She enlarged the space between one of the escort cruisers and the Star Destroyer.

The shipyards mattered. The Sith fleet didn't need to be annihilated if it could be displaced long enough for the assault forces to establish their beachhead. Fighters that became obsessed with kills would waste themselves while the larger battle continued without them. Jyote had learned long ago that surviving a dogfight and winning one weren't necessarily the same thing. Apparently that applied to fleets too.

"Aurek, ten degrees starboard. Besh, keep your present vector. Make the screen stretch." The formations separated. Jyote's eyes narrowed. "Come on..."

She watched the red contacts. Waiting. One moved. Then another. A small gap began forming behind them. There. Jyote smiled. It wasn't a particularly pleasant smile. "Cresh, Dorn. Ghostfield." Her fingers swept across the display, transmitting a new attack vector directly to their navigation systems. "Found your door."

The reserve fighters accelerated. Jyote leaned back into her chair as the tactical display erupted with fresh contacts. Maybe she wasn't in a cockpit. She could work with this. "Go make me a bigger one."

 

[Romul Saxon]

W A R M A S T E R
Bilbringi

THE GREAT UNKNOWN
​

Tag: Carduul Akahl | Kjartan Hammer-Hand | Aurelian of Vandemar | Victport Graras | Open

The Bilbringi system lacked any true world; the closest approximation was the planetoid named Bilbringi VII, devoid of atmosphere, with only artificial installations on its surface and tunnels through its crust. The Bilbringi shipyards were the system's most important feature: a massive space installation that used the plethora of asteroids and raw ore to boost industrial output; the shipyards were famous for quickly dismantling old ships for parts to reuse in new ones. Many galactic governments had used the shipyards to decommission old warship classes. The Iron Covenant had commandeered the operation to decommission the enemy's ships.

Aboard the Burennaar'gam, flagship of the Mythos Fleet, a war council had convened between the powers that wished to fight against the Sith. Reports of the razing of Thyferra so soon after the destruction of Abregado-Rae had rippled through the galaxy. The Iron Covenant had been the first to take the fight to the Sith; they had not forgotten who they were, nor their enemy. And now the galaxy had begun to awaken to the monster that would sooner or later come for them all.

With the representatives of Mahporeem, Vandemar, Caragach, and the Rekav'dral council assembled, Romul called all to order. "An existential threat unites us all," he rumbled. There was no lengthy prelude; the Old Boar was not one for dithering speeches and politics. "The atrocities of Abregado-Rae and Thyferra are only the most recent examples of what will come to the entire galaxy should the Sith remain unchecked. Our invasion into the Core is only but the first step of a long, dark, uphill path towards our goal. The Sith are capable of fielding vast armies and navies. Their industrial production easily outpaces that of the High Republic, let alone any of us. And the sycophants who lead them are invested with dark powers for which we have few answers. All of these problems we must resolve should we hope to vanquish them once and for all."

 

[Siv Dragr]

G U N S L I N G E R
Pelagar, Pelagon​

Tag: Darth Avida

"Fething haran. . ." Siv muttered as he crouched low behind a large barrier that had been thrown from its original defensive position into a tilted slant, penetrating the metal ground, by an explosion hours before. Landing on Pelagon had been a nightmare; constant hours of heavy fire as Mandalorians and Imperials -- Siv didn't trust or work with Imperials -- had landed on Pelagar, the capital platform of the water world. These artificial platforms echoed with every footstep; the constant explosions, reports from blasters, and cannon fire had created an absolute cacophony. If Siv hadn't had audio protection in his helmet, his hearing would have been shot by now.

Night was falling over the water world now. The siege had devolved into a detenté, the attackers bottlenecked at their landing zones in the platform's spaceport. As the sun began to dip beyond the watery horizon, Siv watched its last rays shine dimly against the carbon-scored metal walls and floor. With nightfall came the second push, an attempt to break the Sith lines. A second push came with a mission for Siv: infiltrate the Sith defenses and sabotage them; weaken their hold so that it would break under pressure.

The cover of darkness and an attack on the center provided Siv with his opportunity. The pressure elsewhere meant it wasn't entirely difficult for one Mandalorian to slip past unnoticed, drifting through shadow. He wasn't sure exactly what he could do, only that an opportunity would present itself.

 

[Shade]

Objective III | Pelagon
Tags: @open

By the time Shade reached Pelagar's lower industrial levels, the battle above had already demonstrated the problem with trying the same thing harder.

The initial assault had gained the combined Imperial and Mandalorian forces a foothold, but not much more. The Sith had withdrawn into the industrial catacombs beneath the capital platform and turned narrow approaches, maintenance corridors, processing levels, and service passages into a defensive advantage. From what Shade had seen of the reports before going below, another direct assault would eventually break something. Whether that something would be the Sith defenses or the people attacking them seemed considerably less certain. She had only recently agreed to work for Mahporeem, but apparently that had been long enough for someone to decide that an intelligence operative and assassin might be useful when several hundred soldiers had discovered there were limits to what could be accomplished by shooting directly ahead.

Shade couldn't particularly disagree.

She moved alone through one of the lesser-used industrial passages, dark armor blending readily into the shadows between intermittent strips of failing light. Moisture gathered along pipes overhead, machinery vibrated somewhere beyond the walls, and the distant concussion of the fighting traveled strangely through the metal beneath her boots. Her long black and silver braid had been secured close enough that it wouldn't catch against exposed machinery, while crimson eyes moved constantly between the passage ahead and the intersections she passed. She wasn't trying to win Pelagon by herself, and no one sensible had asked her to. Her task was considerably narrower: get beyond the obvious approaches, learn how the Sith were sustaining their defense, and find something worth breaking. A command position, communications relay, ammunition supply, defensive control system, reinforcement route, or simply a passage the Sith believed sufficiently secure that nobody would think to use it. Any one of those might accomplish more than adding another rifle to the frontal assault.

Signs showed others had already reached the lower levels. Fresh scoring marked one junction, and farther along Shade found evidence of movement too recent to belong to the abandoned industrial infrastructure around her. She didn't immediately decide whether it belonged to Sith, Mandalorians, Imperials, or someone else entirely. Pelagar currently contained enough armed people moving independently through its depths that assumptions seemed an unnecessarily efficient way to get shot. Shade slowed near the next intersection and listened, one hand resting close to her weapon without drawing it. Somewhere farther through the catacombs, another distant burst of weapons fire echoed through the metal corridors. "I suppose asking everyone to wear convenient identification lights would have been optimistic." The quiet remark was mostly for herself, dry amusement briefly touching her expression before she continued.

The Sith had built their defense around the assumption that the attackers would come toward them. Shade had no particular objection to disappointing them. Rather than following the sounds of the nearest fighting, she turned away from them and continued deeper along the industrial route, watching for access panels, maintenance markings, security systems, recent footprints, or anything else that might reveal how the defenders moved when they weren't expecting company. Somewhere in these catacombs there would be a weakness, and she didn't need to be in charge of anyone to find it. If she crossed paths with the Mandalorians or other Mahporeem personnel working toward the same goal, she'd work with them. Until then, Shade intended to do what she'd been hired for and give the next assault something more useful than another body to throw at the Sith.

"Let's see what you thought nobody would bother looking for."

 

[Darth Avida]

A Good Song Never Dies​

'Wrong place at the wrong time.' Her voice echoed deep in the recesses of her own mind.

This aquatic deathtrap hadn't been the ideal destination for a number of reasons, not least of which was the fact that it seemed the clues surrounding an enigmatic artifact which drew her here appeared to have led her to yet another dead end - being planet-side at the start of the Mandalorian and Imperial assault ranking, perhaps, a close second. There was not a moment that passed where there was not either the sound of something horrifically shrill or explosively loud, the echoes of which reached deep into the heart of the Pelagarian platform and, at times, seemed to resonate with the somewhat accelerated beating of her heart in her chest. Darkness, in a manner of speaking, had already taken the water world with the curtain of night drawing down on the sky over the platform and while the rank stench of fear permeated from every orifice of nearly every living person behind defensive lines it was frustration that wrapped itself around Avida's black-robed form.

She had no ties to this tomb of a planet, and certainly no loyalty to the Sith that had entrenched themselves beneath its waves, but, by virtue of her manner of clothing and the lightsaber that her small fingers wrapped tightly around, there was no easy escape from the conflict or planet in sight or mind that would lead her off-world and away from the two-pronged assault Pelagon found itself wedged beneath. She wove her way through the defensive lines along the perimeter, away from the greatest concentration of fighting, like a shadow in the fog of war. Clusters of soldiers devoted to the Sith, and of course Sith themselves, made any attempt at subtlety on the defender's part impossible but it would be much easier, as herculean of a task at it might still be, for a single individual to slip through the gaps in either side's focus.

It was a shame, though, that her shadowy shapefound itself running nearly headlong into a proverbial wall in the form of Siv Dragr - both of them seeming to have similar ideas of skirting around their oppositions front lines unawares. A red column illuminated the two of them suddenly, her blade springing to life the moment she caught sight of something too reflective in the dark.

"I don't suppose you'd take a rain check, given the circumstances, would you?"

Quippy, perhaps, but the rhetorical question was offered regardless of what she felt the obvious answer might be. She'd suspected before she had even opened her mouth that the sight of her bronze eyes would rob either of them a choice in the matter, but any chance taken and lost was better than one missed and abandoned. Devil-may-care was certainly the tone she'd offered and it was paired with as rogueish a grin as she could muster, one that offered itself as a rather thin veneer for the uneasy smile she might've otherwise worn beneath it. There was an unspoken curse there, too, and a sentiment of bad luck, but neither were so much so spoken out loud as they were implied by the tightness in her jaw.

 

[R'ayne Asara]

bilbringi

​

dark aresnal • Draconic Scourge | Aura of Asara
tags • open

I sat alone within the blackened quiet of my science office aboard the Mahporeem Imperial Science Station, the cold darkness of space glowing through my viewport; washing across the instruments, sealed data archives, and instruments of research that had consumed so much of my existence like a shadowy wraith.

Bilbringi awaited me, a conference assembled in opposition to the spreading Sith threat, a gathering of politicians, commanders, leaders, and fools who believed that words might accomplish what armies had failed to do. I fastened the last clasp of my robes and reviewed the science reports one final time before my eyes drifted toward the serpentarium.

Victoria slithered lazily through the artificial branches, her scales whispering against the glass as though some ancient thing beneath the universe were dragging its nails across exposed flesh.

“Look at them, Victoria,” I said, my voice cold with contempt. “These Sith are nothing more than a festering wound upon the galaxy. A swollen, diseased thing, pussing and oozing its heretical philosophies into every world unfortunate enough to lie beneath their shadow. They wage wars, burn civilizations, manipulate governments; and then have the audacity to paint themselves as builders, politicians, civilized beings.”

Victoria raised her head, tongue tasting the air. “Hypocrites,” I hissed. “Every last one of them.”

I paused before the serpentarium, studying my own reflection in the glass beside hers. The irony was not lost upon me.

I am Sith.

Darth Sycophantia, a name known to few.

I had waded through the same darkness, wielded the same ancient power, and embraced an ideology that would make lesser beings recoil in terror. There were qualities within those pathetic creatures that I could not deny existed within myself, and that knowledge irritated me more profoundly than any insult could.

But there was a distinction, a fundamental one.

I did not kneel before the approval of my own kind.

I did not require another Sith to validate my existence, praise my achievements, or declare me worthy.

I held fast to Sith Imperialism; strength given structure, power given purpose, order imposed upon the chaos of a galaxy that deserved neither mercy nor sentiment.

“That is where we differ, Victoria,” I said, watching her coil around herself.

“They honor one another like little children desperate for praise from their peers, forever congratulating each other while their weaknesses bleed through their pores.” I turned away from the serpentarium and reached for my cloak.

“Pathetic little Sith, just like pesty little insects. And what do we do with pesky insects, Victoria? We exterminate them.”

The last words lingered in the chamber like a curse as the station continued its endless mechanical hum, and somewhere beyond the viewport, the stars waited for my arrival at Bilbringi, where these talks of a Sith purge can finally be written into reality.​

 

[Augustus Tassar]

STATUS	Strike Force Lions of the New Order	Consolidating - Pelagar - LZ Shatter​
IMPFOR	Lothar Braeyek | Shae'ri Mor | Shade | @Open	"Lion-Actual", Post I​
BLUFOR	Feydrik Munin | Minni Ordo | Siv Dragr | @Open	Drums of Pelagar​
OPFOR	Sith Forces

Spoiler: Operation Shatterdome

They had landed. That was the sum of it which was successful and according to their expectations. Everything else was a mixture of concrete, blood and suffering. The Imperial troops alongside the Iron Covenant forces had taken the spaceport as base of operations in a bloody sweep that left many soldiers dead in the water before they could even reach the platform, more though on the ripped and shattered landing fields of the cities former port. Now the Sith forces were digging in, above and below the false ground, ever more with every passing minute. They knew that there was neither escape nor prisoner of wars camps waiting for them, so they sold every of their lives so the price would be too high to pay.

As always, the Sith were wrong. Imperial precision and Mandalorian ingenuity would eradicate every last nest through methodical sweeps. Imperial forces advanced, more heavy equipment trickling in for the war above the ground, tanks, walkers and artillery setting down on the landing fields between smoking wreckages of starships and Sith vehicles. Junktroopers and Stormtroopers rushing to the outskirts of the open space where they would be distributed to the frontline, almost on a company by company basis. The Mahporeem Thunder Corps setting up their heavy weapons and already cataloguing the potential salvage materials.

Above them, Augustus could see the smoking hellscape that was Pelagar. Thick plumes of black smoke rose from several locations, fires lit up the nightsky together with constant flashes of artillery and subsequent explosions. The Grand Marshal stood on the ruined top of a tower that once coordinated the traffic for the spaceport, his blue lenses piercing the darkness as he stared. He was busy, moreso than he had been in some time. On his HUD he was coordinating, ordering, routing and communicating with the Imperial forces as they came in, advanced and fought. One ear on purely the Imperial comms, the other on the channels with the Mandalorians to keep everything as tightly together as possible. The relative unknown of their methods and stances was an itch at the back of his brain he could not scratch, but this was the first of many steps together.

They had fought shoulder to shoulder all day, destroying the Sith together with the beskar clad warriors was a privilege. He admired them. Their philosophy, their simplicity was remarkable and almost endearing, even if it left too much to personal emotions for his taste which endangered the strategic scale, but nevertheless he admired them.

Augustus Tassar had not come alone though. The thousands of troopers of the Imperial Army were one thing, but his Knights were another. He would die for the New Order and Imperial dream, but he would do so standing side by side with his companions. He had written the Lex Valoris not as an instrument of order, but one to embrace purpose among a sacred band.

He stepped down from his temporary observation platform, the heavy soles of his plated boots crushing debris to small pebbles as he took several stairs at once. The remnants of the tower gave a not very reassuring moaning of tis structure as he moved through it, but it held and he paid no further heed to it. The golden figure emerged from the busted doors and suddenly was not alone anymore.

Two people waited for him, both dressed from head to toe in armour which could not be any more different. A Mandalorian who he had met only earlier today, she was of strong build and in the armour of a Neo-Crusader if his memory did not fail him. Jarvik was his contact and connection to the Mandalorian forces, neither assigned nor ordered to be here, but a whole afternoon of fighting side by side had established her invaluable company and insights to him.

The other was Efried Halbrecht, Grandmaster of the First Host and the right hand man of Augustus Tassar. Clad in a variation of the Indomitus Knight armour, his, just like that of the entire First Host, was black with silver trim and red-white quartered tabard. His long red cape was topped by the pelt of a white lion, its head on the left pauldron and made him look both hunter and warrior. Halbrecht had been at Tassar's side for many years now, having been a professional soldier all his life, he had become a Knight at a dark hour in his life and had embraced and excelled the Lex Valoris ever since.

Augustus tooks his weapon, the Lion's Talon, with a brief nod from his lieutenant before looking at the two. "We advance along the southern axis, there is a park where the Sith have deployed shielded anti-air emplacements that prevent close air support and endanger transports. A battalion of the 88th Legion will cover our flank, the 102nd Armoured supporting our advance."

"I will take a Banner below ground together with you and your forces," he looked at Jarvik who gave a firm nod, "and you take the surface assault."

Neither had any objections and they went into the night towards their troops and into the fires of battle.

 

[Victport Graras]

HIGH COMMANDER VICTPORT GRARAS
BILBRINGI VII SHIPYARDS
OBJECTIVE I: BILBRINGI

Victport Graras had taken a massive risk in coming here today.

Ever since the sudden attack on the Imperial Confederation capital on New Alderaan, the Mahporeem Imperial Remnant and Sith Covenant were still technically in a state of war, and unlike Quinn Varanin and the Sith Order, they had yet to send any envoys to offer peace terms or at least open up diplomatic relations. As far as Victport was concerned, he was an enemy combatant, and he was almost positive that the Sith would treat him as such should they find and capture him. At the very least, what he was planning on discussing here today would almost certainly lead to some sort of conflict with them no matter what.

That was, of course, assuming his Mandalorian allies here today agreed with his assessment.

They were perhaps two of the most powerful Mandalorians within the entire Mythos Fleet: Romul Saxon and Kjartan Hammer-Hand , veteran leaders with years of experience and a plethora of ground forces, vehicles and starcraft at their disposal. Nevermind the fact that Kjartan had once been Victport's enemy, and that he had caused the Imperial a great deal of annoyance and aggravation not that long ago. Today, all sins had been forgiven, as the threat of the Sith was far greater than any petty damage Kjartan may have caused back in the day.

Also present was Aurelian of Vandemar , an esoteric but equally impressive leader who was based out in the Unknown Regions. Victport did not know as much about him as he did the Mandalorians, but what little information that he had been able to get out of FN-999 (restored) had indicated that Aurelian was just as dangerous a man as anyone in this room, and that his support would be just as invaluable to Victport.

Romul began by opening the proceedings.

"An existential threat unites us all. The atrocities of Abregado-Rae and Thyferra are only the most recent examples of what will come to the entire galaxy should the Sith remain unchecked. Our invasion into the Core is only but the first step of a long, dark, uphill path towards our goal. The Sith are capable of fielding vast armies and navies. Their industrial production easily outpaces that of the High Republic, let alone any of us. And the sycophants who lead them are invested with dark powers for which we have few answers. All of these problems we must resolve should we hope to vanquish them once and for all."

"Mahporeem knows firsthand just what destruction these Sith are capable of bringing", Victport responded to Romul's statement. "The Sith attack on New Alderaan was one of the most significant factors in the dissolution of the Imperial Confederation, and the plague they unleashed Abregado-Rae is, from my understanding, not entirely dissimilar from what we encountered during the First Battle of Brosi. Based on the little research we were able to conduct, these Sith plagues are incredibly infectious, and I need not impress upon you just how catastrophic a galactic outbreak would be. The Sith are not known for their subtly, and the longer they are allowed to remain unchecked, the more likely they are to continue their usage of these plagues, exponentially increasing the risk they will escape the confines of whatever planets they are deployed on. Something must be done".

Victport directly turned to address Romul Saxon .

"You mentioned the High Republic in your remarks. Have you made any attempts to approach them or any headway in asking them to join our cause? Our efforts to do so have so far been unsuccessful, I'm afraid, and remain slow going. Beyond that, what other allies can we expect commitments from in this endeavor?"

Romul Saxon
Kjartan Hammer-Hand
Aurelian of Vandemar
OPEN

​

 

[Lothar Braeyek]

Objective III -
Allies - Imperials - Augustus Tassar | Shae'ri Mor | Shade
Mandolorians - Siv Dragr | Minni Ordo | Feydrik Munin
Enemies - Sith Forces

The 102nd Armoured Division followed behind the 88th Legion through the ruined landing fields, Lothar Braeyek watched the advance from the command compartment of his AT-AAW. Below, Imperial infantry moved between the wreckage, pushing steadily toward the park while the rest of the ground forces fought through the smoke and debris.

The Mandalorians were in the fight as well, moving aggressively through the ruins and pressing the Sith wherever they found an opening. Lothar watched them briefly. He had little reason to question their effectiveness, but neither did he place much faith in their methods. They were allies because Imperial command had deemed them so, and that was enough. Orders were orders.. but beyond that, Lothar trusted Imperial discipline, Imperial armour and the men beside him far more than he trusted beskar and bravado.

A burst of anti-air fire tore across the sky.
"Keeves?"

"Contact. Anti-air emplacement ahead."

Another volley screamed overhead as Lothar watched it pass. He routinely raised one hand and gave it a dismissive little wave, as though swatting away a bug "Tut-tut-tut, By the stars Keeves, By the stars! Mark it down already."

"It's marked sir.."

A second emplacement opened fire from the western side.
"Another one lies over there." Keeves said.

Lothar leaned forward, watching the ground forces close in towards the Sith positions. "Once Lion-Actual reaches his objective, we'll make those guns very quiet." Another volley flashed overhead... as Lothar muttered under his breath "Vile, persistent little things.."

His hand settled back onto the controls as he opened the command channel. "TA-147 Walker to Lion-Actual. Anti-air positions identified. 102nd is supporting and will await further orders." Keeves and Lothar watched the distant fighting through the viewport, the glow of artillery occasionally lighting the smoke.

"Think we'll run into any Sith?"

Lothar kept his eyes on the advance, his hand tapping the control desk."Hmmm.. Eventually.."

"Suppose one of them comes after us sir.."

"Then we will deal with it like we always have."

Keeves went quiet for a moment. "I never liked fighting Force-users."

Lothar adjusted his gloves. "Nor do I."

"You'd think the Empire would have found an easier enemy by now."

Lothar gave a faint, humourless breath through his nose as he looked over to his Gunner, Keeves. "The enemy rarely consults us before choosing a battlefield.. Whatever they are, they're still the enemy. We maintain formation, support the infantry, and do our job."

"Understood, sir."

Lothar settled back into his seat. The four hulking AT-AAWs from his 102nd armoured division now stood a vigilant watch over the advance.

 

[Ronhar Tane]

CAPTAIN RONHAR TANE, TK-3301
PELAGAR, PELAGON
OBJECTIVE III: PELAGON

Ronhar had been against this operation from the beginning.

The Sith were already aware of their presence, and had entrenched themselves deeply into Pelagar, the capital city of Pelagon. Ronhar had hoped that he and his men would have been able to maintain stealth going into the battle, but it was already too late: somehow, the Sith had been alerted to what was going on. Perhaps the spy Ronhar had hired for the job, Evan Kade , was in reality a double agent, or maybe just opportunistic enough to sell information to those they had been asked to spy on. In any case, Ronhar's job here was going to be much more difficult than it should have been.

His job was highly unusual, and involved him investigating some ancient ruins that could be found on the planet. Once located on the bottom of the planet's oceans, centuries of climate change and the mere passing of time had peeled back enough water for these ruins to be just exposed enough for exploration, and that was where Ronhar was currently headed. What little information was available on these ruins indicated that they were truly ancient, and their existence predated the arrival of the planet's colonists. Besides the ruins themselves, the natives had built numerous storage and research facilities, and they would be ripe for plundering, assuming the Sith did not understand the importance of the ruins or were otherwise distracted by the combined Imperial/Mandalorian assualt.

As the Night Reaver continued on its course, Ronhar couldn't help but feel some apprehension. This, in all honestly, was a terrible idea. After all, if the Sith knew they where here, they'd come after Ronhar sooner rather than later, assuming they weren't defending the ruins already. But the stakes were too high and the potential supplies and information to be recovered too important to ignore, whether or not the Sith were waiting to greet them when they arrived. This wasn't the first time Ronhar had willingly put himself in danger, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

He just hoped whatever was done there was worth the trouble he was sure to experience.​

Spoiler: Ronhar's Loadout

• Head
  • Helm of Authority
    • Rangefinder
• Torso
  • Tashai Coat of Coins
  • Mk 45 Protective Vest
  • "Kitetsu" Force Energy Cycler
  • Wampa-Pattern Industrial Exoskeleton
    • Miniaturized Smoke Grenade Launcher
    • Empty Automated Weapon Mounting Point
• Arms
  • Tashai Coat of Coins
  • Wampa-Pattern Industrial Exoskeleton
    • NZ Medpack Display
    • Retractable Vibroblade
    • NZ Pangolin Type 1/A Reactive Armor Plating
• Legs
  • Wampa-Pattern Industrial Exoskeleton
    • NZ MAM MkII Jet Maneuvering Gear
• Cybernetics
  • Mod V Cyberarms
  • Cyberlegs Mod III
• Weapons
  • Burnblade
  • Prototype Sonic Pistol
  • Mahporeem Acid Rifle
  • Model 216 "Big Game Hunter"
• Ordinance
  • Two Rhydonium Grenades OR Three Mk II Viral Bombs
• Medical Supplies
  • Carapace Knitters
  • ABC - Aerosolized Bacta Cannisters

TAGS:
Zavik Maltheris
OPEN

 

[Evan Kade]

Objective: 1

Evan Kade had never particularly cared for war councils. Not because of what was discussed within them. War, politics, alliances, territorial disputes; those things were all just information when viewed from far enough away. What Evan disliked was the assumption that everyone in the room belonged there.

Fortunately, someone had decided he did. Officially, Evan Kade was an independent communications contractor brought aboard the Burennaar'gam to assist with temporary systems maintenance during the Bilbringi Conference. Unofficially, one of the Iron Covenant's senior figures had paid him a considerable sum to be somewhere no one would think to look twice.

Evan had asked exactly one question when the offer was made. "What do you want?" The answer had been simple. Evan could work with simple.

He moved through one of the less impressive corridors aboard the flagship, dressed in a plain utility uniform with a small tool case hanging from one hand. His identification credentials were legitimate enough to survive a cursory inspection, and his name appeared in the ship's systems exactly where it was supposed to. Evan Kade. Independent systems contractor. Temporary clearance. Boring. He liked boring.

He stopped at a junction and glanced toward a security panel mounted in the wall. His fingers moved briefly over his datapad. The display flickered.

"You're in," came the quiet voice through the comlink concealed beneath his collar.

Evan smiled faintly. "That was quick."

"I've had access for three minutes."

"Then you're showing off."

"You're welcome."

Evan continued walking. His slicer wasn't aboard the ship with him. There was no reason to put two people at risk when one could remain somewhere comfortably distant and work through the systems remotely. More importantly, Evan preferred having someone else looking at the network while he concentrated on the people. People were where the useful information usually lived.

He reached another junction and paused, appearing to study a maintenance panel while a series of security feeds populated his datapad. There. The conference room. His attention sharpened. Romul Saxon . Victport Graras Kjartan Hammer-Hand . Aurelian of Vandemar And the others whose names he would need to attach to faces.

Evan studied them carefully. He didn't simply listen to what they said. He watched how they said it..Who looked toward whom when a particular subject was raised. Who remained silent. Who interrupted. Who appeared uncomfortable with a proposal. Who seemed to already know what another speaker was about to say. The words mattered. The relationships mattered more.

"Can you give me audio?" Evan murmured.

"Working on it."

"Don't rush." His gaze remained fixed on the screen. Rushing was how people made mistakes. And Evan Kade had no intention of making one today.

He closed the maintenance panel and resumed walking, disappearing into the ship's ordinary traffic as though he had somewhere mundane to be. Nobody aboard the Burennaar'gam needed to know that one of their own superiors had quietly hired him. Nobody in the conference room needed to know that someone was watching. And Evan certainly had no intention of explaining what his employer hoped to learn.

For now, he had a job. Observe. Listen..Remember. And find out what the people shaping the next stage of the war were willing to say when they thought nobody outside their circle was listening.

Tags: OPEN

 

[Zesiro]

Objective: I | Bilbringi
Interacting With: Romul Saxon | Victport Graras | Carduul Akahl | Kjartan Hammer-Hand | Aurelian of Vandemar

Bilbringi was not the sort of place Zesiro would ever have chosen for the scenery, though there was something impressive about the enormous shipyards and industrial structures surrounding the system. Fleets required more than commanders and soldiers willing to die for a cause. They needed fuel, replacement parts, ammunition, food, medicine, functioning routes, and thousands of people whose names would never appear in histories of the wars they helped make possible.

Perhaps that was why Zesiro found herself paying nearly as much attention to Bilbringi as she did to the people gathered aboard the Burennaar'gam.

She had arrived with Mahporeem's delegation, though she was neither a military commander nor a diplomat and had no intention of pretending otherwise. As Head of Internal Affairs, she was here to understand what Mahporeem might be attaching itself to. Alliances brought more than mutual enemies and promises of support. They created access, shared information, obligations, and relationships between people who might presently know very little about one another.

Dressed in fitted black pants and boots, a deep red blouse, and a tailored black jacket, Zesiro carried Mahporeem's colors without surrendering herself to an Imperial uniform. Her blond hair remained loose as she listened, blue eyes moving easily among those assembled. Being surrounded by Mandalorians hardly made her uncomfortable. She had fought them, lived among them, been adopted by one, and acquired considerably more Mandalorian family than she'd ever expected. None of that made her Mandalorian, nor did it mean she assumed she understood everyone beneath a helmet.

Romul Saxon's opening remarks held her attention, particularly when he spoke of the dark powers wielded by the Sith leadership. There had been a time when someone sitting across from her might have used much the same language to describe Zesiro. She had been Sith once, and there was no point pretending otherwise simply because several lives seemed to stand between that girl and the woman she was now. She also knew the Force wasn't what made someone monstrous. That didn't make Romul wrong about the danger they faced.

Victport's response brought the discussion toward something less personal and considerably more immediate. His concern about Sith plagues was difficult to dismiss, and Zesiro listened as he moved on to ask about the High Republic and what other allies the Covenant expected to bring into the effort. She had spent enough years around governments to know that claiming allies and knowing those allies would actually come when needed were two very different things.

Zesiro remained quiet until a natural opening arose, then shifted slightly forward. "There's one part of that I'd like Internal Affairs to keep an eye on as this develops." Her gaze passed among the gathered representatives rather than settling on any one of them. "Every new ally potentially means another government handling information about movements, capabilities, and eventually weaknesses. That's not an argument against bringing anyone in. I'd simply rather Mahporeem understand where its information is going before something important goes somewhere we didn't intend."

There was no accusation behind the observation. Nobody needed to be a spy for information to end up somewhere it shouldn't, particularly once several governments and militaries began working together.

A faint smile touched her lips as Zesiro settled back again, leaving the larger questions to the people actually responsible for answering them. "I'll leave deciding who we're fighting beside to the rest of you. Once you know, I'll worry about making sure we don't accidentally tell the Sith how we're doing it."

 

[Aurelian of Vandemar]

B I L B R I N G I

R E F O R G I N G

Romul Saxon | Victport Graras | Zesiro | Carduul Akahl | Kjartan Hammer-Hand | Evan Kade

Aurelian arrived aboard the Burennaar'gam with a short message announcing his appearance. Which he promptly did several seconds later, stepping out of a corona of pure light in one of the warship's hangars and heading straight for the conference room. His golden sabatons echoed across the armoured deck like the steps of a mythological titan, swift and yet so calm, it was as if the environment purposefully slowed down to let him stride forth.

His presence in the conference room almost swallowed all space, despite him reigning in how far his wings extended, but the bulk of the armoured figure was difficult to ignore, radiating and resonating a restrained fury that lingered beneath the surface.

The Hegemon first offer a deep bow of his head to the leader of the Mandalorians. He had fought alongside Romul Saxon once before and would gladly do so again. Honour, strength, valor - all could be found in most Mandalorians, by few would demonstrate them over such a long time and through such exceptional commitment. It was a pity, maybe even a catastrophe, that it took almost thirty years and an almost invincible seeming enemy to bring Imperials and Mandalorians back to a shared table.

Among the others present were more Mandalorians who he only knew by name but truly hoped to grow closer with. Akahl had been Mandalore the Anointed of the Neo-Crusaders, the most intriguing ideology splinter of the Mando'ade in Aurelian's opinion, and that was no small feat. Despite himself never feeling certain aspects of the Resolnare, he respected their kind deeply. Not just because a great many among the Eternal Host once were Mandalorians, no, but their actions in life generally showed the truest of hearts. He was eager to fight beside them again.

The Mahporeem representatives were an unwritten piece of paper to him, he did not know any of them, nor their reputation, but their momentum had been strong enough that Tassar, Aurelian's left hand, had joined them. That alone gave them legitimacy and gravitas in his eyes. But other than that, Imperials had an aptitude for industrialised warfare and statecraft, a necessity for the wars to come and maybe even for their all survival. Imperial strength, even if divided, would be a foundation upon which to build this coalition. Since many years Aurelian was closely aligned to the Imperial cause and now he was curious to see how the Mahporeem would carry it into a grand war.

It was a shame indeed that the High Republic was not present yet. A mistake that needed to be remedied, quite soon, otherwise each of them could face more destruction at the hands of the Sith. Their moderation could be an asset if applied towards their alliance more than to their enemies.

"At this time, attempting a symmetrical campaign against the Sith Axis would be met with disaster. We should not keep engaging them in pitched battles." Aurelian spoke with measured clarity and an absolute certainty of someone who had fought for a long time.

"While the Sith will not be impressed by acts of diplomacy and mere words, those who oppose them might. While we have this rare opportunity here and now today, our focus should be to forge a pact that is not merely grounded in victory, but survival. More systems will join our cause if we can prove resilience, reliability and strength."

His gaze moved across the room, offering each a short moment of attention. Aurelian spoke with certainty, but he was more than eager to make this coalition work by hearing what everyone had to say since he did not know the thoughts of everyone present, nor how far they were ready to go. He stepped forth, figuratively, and made clear that he would go till the end.

"We have to secure victory to prove that. A triumph over the evil that threatens to devour us, Mandalorian, Imperial, Republic, spacer and any who will not kneel to the Dark side. A plague is merely a symptom, not the virus itself. The High Republic deployed a device over Thyferra that neutralised the Force in a specific area. If it exists, it can be replicated and used again. My people and your brightest scientists could work on such a solution."

"I would advise to fight when and where necessary, to dictate the terms of battle and hit with overwhelming force at strategic targets. Neither conquest nor complete submission of either of the Sith realms will be an immediate possibility. Our operations on Foerost and Pelagon are but the beginnings of a series of swift strikes - not even to hit the Sith, but to consolidate our standing with each other."

"To forge our pact on the anvil of war. The Mandalorians would bring an ingenuity and ferociousness to the Imperial precision and pragmatism and once the High Republic decides to join us, an unbreakable spirit."

 

[Shade]

Objective: III | Pelagon
Interacting With: Augustus Tassar

The Imperial tactical channel gave Shade considerably more information than the distant fighting alone could provide. Reports filtered through in fragments as she continued deeper into the industrial levels: armor advancing across the ruined landing fields, anti-air emplacements threatening anything attempting to provide close support, and Imperial forces consolidating around the southern approach. Then Lion-Actual's intentions reached the network. Augustus Tassar was bringing a Banner below ground while the surface force continued toward the Sith positions above. Shade slowed near another junction, crimson eyes passing over the passages branching away from her while she compared their direction against the tactical information available to her. She was already farther into the lower levels than the approaching force, which placed her in a considerably better position to discover what waited ahead than to turn around merely for the sake of joining them.

She continued forward, paying closer attention now to anything that might connect with the southern approach. The Sith had been given time to entrench themselves, and Shade doubted they had neglected the underground routes while fortifying everything visible from above. A larger force moving through these passages would have fewer options than a lone operative. Choke points mattered more. Cross passages became potential firing positions, service routes became flanking routes, and anything capable of sealing a section could turn a corridor into a particularly efficient trap. She stopped beside a recessed maintenance terminal and examined it without immediately touching anything. The surrounding wall showed enough recent disturbance to suggest someone else had been through here, though that alone said little about who or why. What mattered was that the supposedly neglected infrastructure wasn't quite as neglected as it appeared.

Shade opened the Imperial channel. "Lion-Actual, Shade. I heard you're bringing a Banner below ground along the southern axis." She paused long enough to inspect the corridor ahead before continuing. "I'm already inside the lower network and working ahead of your approach. There's recent movement down here, and I'm beginning to see signs that some of the infrastructure is still being used." She wasn't prepared to call it Sith activity until she had something stronger than disturbed grime and recent traffic, nor was she interested in sending Augustus chasing an assumption. "I'll stay ahead and see what they've prepared before your people reach it. If I find a route worth using, I'll mark it. If I find something designed to make your arrival unpleasant, I'll try to give you enough warning to disappoint them."

The transmission ended, and Shade returned her attention to the maintenance terminal. She had no intention of dismantling anything simply because it looked suspicious. Not yet. Instead, she began examining the surrounding connections, looking for signs of recent access and determining what the system actually controlled before deciding whether touching it was worth the risk. Somewhere behind her, Augustus and his Banner were coming below ground. Somewhere ahead, the Sith had presumably prepared for exactly that possibility. Shade's faint smile returned as she moved away from the obvious approach and searched for another angle from which to examine the system. "Let's try to make sure the introduction isn't entirely on their terms."

 

[Shae'ri Mor]

Pelagon

Equipment • Scrapborn | Scrapfangs | Scrapveil
Sidekick (occasionally) • Clunk3r
Command • x25 Scrap Hounds | x45 ZQ Infantry Support Unit | x300 Coretroopers x1,000 Drakonis Praetorian Guard
Location • X
Allies • Lothar Braeyek | Shade | Augustus Tassar

The NZ/IFVr-01A/B “Cohorts” surged through the last stretch of ocean water toward the platform, their armored hulls grinding through seawater and floating defensive obstacles as Sith artillery began to speak from emplacements from within the industrial platform ahead.

A concussive barrage struck the advancing column; one Cohort vanished beneath a geyser of blue water, its mass sinking rapidly into the ocean below, while another was torn apart seconds before reaching the dockside structures. The surviving transports pushed forward without hesitation. Their ramps slammed down, doors yawning open, and Imperial soldiers, clones, and droids poured into the streets beneath a storm of blasterfire.

The scattered Sith defenses were neither numerous nor heavily fortified, yet their resistance was immediate and unexpectedly vicious. Red bolts flashed between ruined buildings as Imperial troops advanced by squads, only to collapse into the streets beneath concentrated fire. Bodies began to litter the approach to the docks, armor smoking where the defenders had found their marks.

Shae’ri Mor stepped from her "Cohort" amid the chaos, her eyes sweeping across the concrete battlefield before she spotted the growing weakness along the Imperial right.

“Company officer!” she roared, raising her voice above the artillery. “Move your troops to the right flank! Evict the Sith and solidify it.”

Her armor’s comlink activated as she switched channels to the Commander of the NZ HT-97A "Ronhar" battle tank escort, her voice becoming colder and more precise. “Commander Fleck, this is Knight Mor. Increase fire support immediately. Concentrate everything you have on those Sith artillery emplacements. I want them silenced.”

The response crackled back through the static as Shae’ri drew her lightsaber. Scrapborn ignited with a violent snap-hiss, its blade casting harsh light across the battered armor surrounding her. She advanced toward the artillery positions, cutting through scattered Sith defenders who attempted to bar her path. Blasterfire streaked toward her; she deflected it aside and continued forward, each movement economical and deliberate.

Behind her, the "Ronhar" battle tanks began to answer, their cannons hammering the distant emplacements with crushing volleys. But Shae’ri knew the artillery remained the greatest obstacle to securing the docks.

Until those guns were destroyed, every "Cohort" attempting to unload would remain a potential grave. Tightening her grip around Scrapborn, she pushed deeper into the contested streets, fighting toward the guns while the Imperial assault continued to fight bravely.

Slowly the docking platform began changing allegiances. Sith defenders were being eliminated or routed along the way just as one of the artillery emplacements went ablaze.​