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Exsibilation | The Sovereignty Invasion of Galactic Empire held Zenith Prime Hex

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Exsibilation
Aboard the Adviser-Class Carrier Broodmare
Zenith Prime.​
A world of forts and camps, encampments and entrenchments. The fortress world on the edge of Imperial territory awaited now, for the battering ram that now rocketed towards it. On the planet itself, the late evening hung in the air, a humid temperature sticking to the people and animals as it almost seemed like everyone was collectively holding their breath.​
The Sovereignty had made no attempt to hide their intentions, nor their arrival. It was known that they were going to attack - they had even told their citizens publicly. Of course, back then they had talked about the Empire's machines of death on Hypori.​
Or their oppression of Siskeen. Even the slavery and debasement of the people that took place on Tatooine. The Sovereign and his intelligence chiefs had all agreed on one thing; misinformation. The Empire was an efficient force with quick response and was not about to tolerate any attack on their worlds. Therefore, it was best to leave them unsure about where the possible attack would come from. A sound tactic would be to split their forces - but this left less than there may usually be.​
As he watched from the bridge of the Broodmare, staring upon the work taking place while they travelled through hyperspace, he pondered what must have gone through the minds of Imperial Moffs, Admirals, Generals. How to respond, if they were even considered a threat in the minds of such men and women. He supposed none of it would matter now. He spoke aloud.​
"Broadcast me on an open channel."
Some of the ensigns on the bridge simply looked at each other for a moment, the ship's captain giving a concerned look as they scrambled to obey the order and open up communications. Varik had no doubt the Empire would've started to catch on now where they were arriving. The massing ship signatures that encroached on Zenith Prime's system borders now didn't leave any room for negotiation, after all. On ships both Sovereign and Imperial if it was accepted, Varik's form appeared, a glowing blue.​
"This is the Sovereign. To all who stand with me now, who have stood with me before and will stand with me again; you have my respect. My admiration. You are not conscripts or serfs, forced to kill and die for my whims. Each and every one of you is a vanguard of your people, a hero of the Sovereignty. We show that to the galaxy now. The Empire is not just an enemy of a friend. The Empire is an enemy to our greatest ideals. Our liberty, our freedom, our right to choose who we are."
The Sovereign's hands stayed behind him as he stared unfailingly into the message, his expression cold.​
"To the Imperials, I say this. Not all of you are the monsters the galaxy says you are. I know that more than anyone. Many of you believe in your Empire. Think its prettied oppression and dogmatic security will make the galaxy a better place. However, if the men and women of the Sovereignty, who come from a home where individuals mean more than numbers are willing to lay down their own lives for our people and our cause, then we'll gladly lay down yours. I give one warning. You will leave this system, you will retreat back to your holdings, and you will leave us, the Galactic Alliance and the rest of the galaxy in peace."
Ice's stance finally changed, his eyes maintaining the same focused, driven look that they'd had since the start of the transmission. As he continued to stare, the colours of hyperspace began to disappear - they were here. He took a deep breath, staring almost in pity at whoever was watching the message.​
"Or we will paint Zenith Prime with tyrants' blood."
The transmission disappeared as Varik's eyes lit up. His hands stayed behind his back as he walked off the bridge, picking up his helmet. As he placed it over his head, he knew what was to come.​
The Sovereignty was not a democratic bastion. It was not a nation of idealists towards excessive mercy and peace. No, that was not the Sovereignty. The Sovereignty was black iron - it would snap in two before it would bend to any others' will, but it was hard; unforgiving. The soldiers would have no love for their enemy, and the crew members and captains of the vessels that were now pulling into the system would not hesitate.​
As he travelled down to the hangars, Varik gazed upon the dropships ready to bring down the swathes of well-drilled and repeatedly trained hell that wanted nothing more but to burn across Zenith Prime. Perhaps it was true - that war was the hell everyone feared. But he didn't fear it now, he did not flinch at the idea.​
For they had brought war to the Empire.​

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The Sovereignty
Varik Ice
[member="Inyri Takan"]
[member="Zedd Harkor"]
[member="Proxy-1"]
Allies
1. [member="Aleksander Miles"]
2. [member="Helix Syndicate"]
3. [member="Bareesh Kajidic"]
4. [member="Vash Rico"]
5. [member="Tylane of Isobe"]
The Galactic Empire
[member="Tanomas Graf"]
[member="Kayrce"]
[member="Desmond C'artyom"]
Allies
1. [member="Khonsu Amon"]
2. [member="Nyx"]
3. [member="Apolline Wynver"]
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Start Date: 30/1/18​
End Date: 20/2/18​
 
Credits with enough zeroes at the end to make your eyes pop paid for enough Bareesh Kajidic ships to take those eyeballs and turn them the size of dinner plates. Not big cruisers, the Hutts kept those for themselves, but a swarm of cheap, multirole fighters.

They emerged out of hyperspace in a flood. Hundreds of Scyk interceptors, half as many Dunelizard fighters, and several dozen Kimogila assault craft. Along with them emerged several Hutt landing barges, stuffed to the brim with expendable thralls and mercenaries.

Their destination? Fort Alestrani.
 
Defense Battery - Outskirts
Feet first into Hell
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The skies above rolled with darkened malevolent clouds of a sinister shroud, invoking a rolling tide of defined mystery over the valley. It was in this place, this moment they would strike. The AECO Division had come far, not too long ago they were little more than an experiment, a solution to a problem, a patchwork fix. Now they stood as the vanguard, they were the first of many, the black iron and chiseled gold spearhead. Hours before their steel shells had ripped through the skies above, piercing the veil of secrecy, now they simply awaited a signal.

AECO Team 12 sat around an impromptu camp, they had been covertly asserted near a key defensive installation. Ten as one huddled together in uniform security, they were not trained Force Users, akin to Jedi or Sith, they were not engineered machines of pure destruction, they were simple men and women, but they'd have to get the job done. Hague sits hunched over a small holoprojector, setting it down rough orbital scans of the nearby area materialize before them, a low hoarse voice speaks: "We've been over this before, but I'm doing it again. As of right now, we're the only SOV boots on the ground, and we won't be for long. We've just received our go-signal. The fleet will be arriving soon. Our first objective is a nearby anti-ship battery. We clear the LZ, then we bring hell. Stay close, stay tight, stay frosty." Hague took the time to look around to each of his comrades, each had proven themselves over their service together, each would soon be challenged in new ways. This was not the enemy they face before, some shriveling primitive, some backward pirate scum - this was the Galactic Empire, it would be a new forge in which to temper themselves.


Cynan quaked with an emotion he was all too unfamiliar with, his heart was filled with only one thing, one striking truth, fear. There would be no rescue, no second chance, no weak or stupid enemy. It was a forge, but even the strongest steel fears the flame. His hand shook, if but for a moment, the sensation alien and unique, the jitters weren't supposed to affect him - he was above that - he was wrong. A single low anxious sigh escapes pursed lips, fogging the inside of his visor as he rises to his feet. Cynan stares blankly onward, that looming facility in the distance, that towering weapon of imperial might, it would soon be dust beneath them. No matter the cost, no matter the means, the Sovereignty would not taste bitter defeat. The pride in his infant nation was but a spark, but a spark which would ignite the flame inside of him, if nothing else, it was enough, lit by the kindling of those he'd come to know and respect, those who stood among him now. There was of course the outlier of their strange new ally, but Cynan fielded no dobut in them.

The man simply stands, overlooking the distant valley and rolling sky above, a low thunder cracking, lightning snaking through the clouds like an insidious foreboding worm. Destiny was upon them, a single hand swooped down recovering the projector and security it to his belt, a rifle slung into-hand and the twisting of a heel. Facing down the direction of their march, he simply checked his weapon, loaded a magazine and drove the bolt. His off-hand secured his helmet as the polarized visor activated and shrouded him, a welcome relief.

There was now only one thing to say, one order to give, one rallying cry to echo outwards among them, "Let's go".


[member="Cassus Stoma"] [member="Sekhmet Sarang"] [member="Slaask"] [member="Vash Rico"]
 
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Grand Commander Vestille Thumahra
1st Legion Group
Zenith Prime
851 ABY
Objective - Camp Verd :: Secure Camp & Imperial Recruits
Post One
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The planet was all too familiar. He had conquered it once, now he would do so again.

Old loyalties became new rivalries, old friends became new enemies. Today, the Grand Commander would spill the blood of those that he once served alongside. He once considered himself a true blooded Imperial, willing to give his life for the Emperor and the security of the Empire's borders. That man, what little there was under the armor and indoctrination of the Death Troopers, was dead. Pestilence had once been his family, fighting as a singular entity until the very end. Now? Now the prestigious Major was burning the very bridge that had brought him to this very moment. His objective was clear, his men prepared to enter the breach and fight and die to complete their objectives but instead of being pushed forward by fear, it was zeal; a zeal that was natural rather than enforced through an iron fist and threats. Varik, for what he was worth, was good at motivating the men; something that the Supreme Commander still needed to learn. In truth, before him was a tough mission that would no doubt have casualties; a lot of them. This wasn't fighting mindless beasts or singular entities that could be swarmed and defeated with overwhelming firepower. This was war on a large scale, a battlefield rather than a firefight.

As the transports flew down towards the ground amid the fleets and invasion force, conversation was at a minimum. There was a wave of fear and uncertainty that flew around the heads of the men and women like carrion birds. Their training had been rigorous, especially those who followed the banner of the Grand Commander, but many hadn't been in a conflict on the scale such as this. Draxites? Numerous to be sure but they had been pressed under foot. Harkrygsk? Bugs, simply a pest to be swept to the side despite their savage and brutal mannerisms. Imperials? A well-oiled, well-trained and well-equipped force that had been a force for much longer than the Sovereignty had. The task before them was colossal, some might have even though that it was impossible. As the shuttles began to break through orbit and down towards the Fortress world itself and the air became soaked with anti-aircraft fire, those fears had to be put behind them. It was too late to turn back now and with the eyes of the Sovereignty and their commanders upon them, every soldier within those transports knew what needed to be done.

Their duty.

The First Legion Group's target was Camp Verd, an Advanced Training Base used to train Imperial troops and doubled up as a sizable military bastion upon the planet. The defenses would be tough to breach, the defenders would no doubt fight to the death to prevent the Sovereign flag from flying high above the Camp. Every favor that Vestille had to call in and every bit of paperwork to garner as much support as he could to achieve the monumental task of securing both the Camp and Prisoners of War was done. As the combined arms force flew towards their objective, taking evasive maneuvers to avoid the anti-aircraft fire, the still capes of the Sovereign soldiers were carrying weapons of all shapes and sizes; A-400s, SHB-12s, SMW-5s and various munitions to assist with the breaking down of the defenses such as mortars, missile launchers and grappling equipment shook and jolted with the sharp movements of the transports to avoid the increasing bolts of turbolaser fire that streaked the sky. Air support, depending on the situation in the air would be plenty or scarce and armor support would come in once a beachhead had been secured. As the radio communications between the pilots declared that they were getting closer and closer, several of the transports had been hit, blowing to pieces in the sea of descending vessels.

That, however, wouldn't stop them.

As the transports set foot on the ground, the ramps descended and allowed the sea of troops to charge out and engage the defense forces sent to meet them. It was do or die, us or them.

And Vestille was not going to be a part of another Dagobah.
 
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Allies - AECO Team 12
[member="Cynan Hague"], [member="Cassus Stoma"], [member="Slaask"], [member="Vash Rico"]
Enemies
The Galactic Empire
They call me devil, and you should be afraid.
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Atmospheric Entry Covert Operators.

AECO. When Sekhmet had first heard those words they hadn't made much sense. She wasn't fully sure what it all entailed; the part about covert operators was simple enough to get, but atmospheric entry? Didn't every ship go through atmospheric entry? What was different about this group that required it to be in their name? Keeping the majority of her doubts and questions to herself, the young Saorsa eagerly accepted the offer of service the Sovereignty had put forward following the liberation of Orenda. She had a blood debt to repay, after all, and if they thought she was suited to this elite role then she'd prove them right twofold.

After her training had begun, she'd quickly understood how exactly they entered the atmosphere, and why it was so important to specifically note.

The certified adrenaline junkie had loved it.

Zenith Prime. Everything here smelled fake. She wasn't sure why, but it did, and it was unpleasant. Their camp had been a hidden recluse as they waited patiently for their signal, and now it had arrived. The horned woman stood with crossed arms over her armoured chest, looking down at her commanding officer. She could feel the anger in him, recalled him from Orenda with picture clarity, but it mingled with anxiety and fear. Soon there'd be no time for that. Still, she listened patiently as he doled out their orders, and ever-slowly a grin began to form as they loomed closer to go-time. Sliding her specialized helmet on -- moulded to fit her horns, which protruded from areas of the helm that were normally meant to be flat. The demon had come to play.

She unslung her own shotgun (Admittedly, Sekhmet enjoyed the use of the weapon, especially at close quarters, but she still wasn't overly proficient with it) and quickly checked her gauntlets. One hit of these would produce a wholly unpleasant time for whoever was unlucky enough to be on the receiving end. A shockwave of excitement passed through the Saorsa briefly, the visor hiding the delighted grin on her face at the anticipated combat.

And she followed her leader into hell itself. For the Sovereignty. First would be the defensive battery, then the entire world. Nothing less except absolute victory would do.
 
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Defense Battery - Outskirts
Slaask
AECO Team 12
[member="Cynan Hague"] | [member="Sekhmet Sarang"] | [member="Cassus Stoma"] | [member="Vash Rico"]
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Slaask had never been in a pod before, nor had he ever really been in a real scrap before. All these new experiences were something that the Trandoshan would never have been able to achieve back in his constant swapping of masters as a slave. In truth, he had the Sovereignty to thank for the path to freedom and given the chance to knock some skulls together. For all it was worth, Slaask could barely keep his mouth shut, the sheer adrenaline of speeding towards the ground in a pod so fast it had all the possibility to leave him as the equivalent of jam on the ground had him laughing the whole way though the thrills were short lived. They were the vanguard, the spearhead of the Sovereignty's assault upon the planet of Zenith Prime. As the team waited for the signal in their camp to go ahead, the Trandoshan, despite his desire to rip and tear, managed to keep his mouth shut whilst Cynan ran them over the plan just one more time. Destroy some anti-air guns, secure a landing zone and that was that.

In truth, Slaask had heard through all of that in his infinite wisdom; "Slaask, blow some kark up and kill some Imperials."

He hadn't a problem with that in the slightest. It wasn't like the Trandoshan wasn't well equipped, carrying a heavy assault cannon that was only fitting of the Trandoshan of his size and strength. He was a tank, a one man army with razing hell on his mind. For better, or worse, he was ceaseless in his desire for the thrill of the hunt... Without much of the hunting part added in. Slaughter was slaughter and that suited him just fine. As he waited for the order to move out, his hands fiddled with the device upon his armor. He hadn't exactly heard anything against customizing the armor so, mostly to test and waters and to juice himself up for the fighting ahead, a slight modification regarding a music player had been installed. Having heard bits and pieces across his travels, there were just some luxuries he couldn't go without. Music was one of them.

And so his squadmates and the Imperials he was yet to kill would join in with listening to the heavy and gritty instrumental music that Slaask enjoyed over the sounds of blaster fire and explosions. If anyone could say some thing about Slaask, he was one of a kind.
 
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Allies
[member="Varik Ice"], [member="Koda Fett"]
Enemies
The Galactic Empire
I can take a beating I'll rise again; burning through the jungle until the end...
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Inyri stood among the flurry and chaos of the Broodmare's hanger, her fingers constantly tapping against the cool link-steel of her lightsaber hilt in a rather impatient manner. Planted like a statue of grey robes and awkward patience in the sea of preparing troopers, the Guardian awaited the arrival of her Sovereign. She knew her duty. The Guardian's directive on the assault of Zenith Prime was to support the ground troops, to neutralize particularly strong targets and enemies. But she, she had a specific role and task.

The irony wasn't lost on her that she would be helping to invade an Inquisitor headquarters when she herself had been once called one, by someone of supposed importance no less. However, to be fair, the irony was perhaps stronger for who she'd be going with. Whose history was intertwined with their target location, in very intimate ways. Eyes scanning the passing crowds, Inyri kept the swirl of emotions at bay as she searched for the particular face of her team.

As she searched, she saw the others. Sovereignty soldiers bravely stepping into dropships, knowing the odds of even landing planetside were slim; chances were most of the faces she saw today wouldn't even see an Imperial in combat, instead meeting their ends through being shot down and fireballing onto Zenith's surface. But still they persevered, and for that, they had earned her undivided respect.

The incessant tapping resumed, impatient in nature now. She didn't want to take too long to leave.
 

Vilhelm Balfour

Guest
V
Fort Amaranth

"Someone shut that kriffing thing off." Balfour ordered, and the scrambling of Varik Ice's voice was quickly depleted as a comms officer began jamming the transmission.

"Report on hostiles?"

"Hyperspace has multiple Sovereign hostiles incoming along with . . . are those Scyks?" Lieutenant Cha reported, her voice trembling a bit.

"Don't speculate officer, evaluate and confirm." Balfour ordered. His voice remained calm and heavy, attempting to bludgeon the doubt of the Lieutenant's voice.

"Swarms of fighters have come out of hyperspace. Records correspond to Scyk, Dunelizard, and Komigilio fighters." The lieutenant responded, her voice shaking a little bit less as she did so.

"Scramble response teams. Tie-Lines, Interceptors, and Starwings."

"Yes Governor." The Lieutenant confirmed, getting 'on the horn' with nearby fighters and directing them to intercept courses. It seemed impossible to get good help these days.

[member="Bareesh Kajidic"]
 
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Objective: Unknown | Fort Tal'verda, Zenith Prime
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He was a nobody. Just some helmet-wearing, faceless mook among the thousands that milled around the great fortress-capital of a similarly cultured world. The durasteel armor tightly hugging his frame and the weaponry he carried were far too commonplace to be of any great threat to the hundreds of armed men and women that worked day and night at Fort Tal'verda. As a man who'd spent decades serving with military-minded individuals, Tobias had yet to meet any that could match the level of discipline and self-control that the people of Zenith Prime possessed. Honor, service, and excellence triumphed over personal feelings on any matter at hand.

Which was made them weak.

Betrayal was a rare occurrence, and these events were highly publicized to serve as an example of such treachery. Alas, treachery was afoot.

The man strode with a purpose, like every other warrior here, towards the operations center. A large, well fortified building that seemed just as important as the dozens of other buildings lining the interior compound this side of the capital. Uniformed soldiers flanked the doors, checking the identification chips of everyone who entered before sending them through a weapons processing center.

"Staff Sergeant Garo Orden," the man reported crisply, "I'm here to see Captain Venau."

The guard took his ID, glancing it over before looking back up at him. "Haven't seen you around here before, how long you been here?"

"About two, maybe three standard months." Garo replied with a snort, "Place's so big I hardly managed to find my way here in time."

"You're frakkin' telling me, pal. Home unit?"

"43rd Signals Intelligence Brigade," Garo grinned, "Or would you rather I put that into infantry terms for you?"

The guard returned a playful smile, handing back the ID. "Get your sheb in there. Don't you know military intelligence is an oxymoron?"
 

Lemon

Citrus Dreams
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Allies: [member="Varik Ice"], [member="Inyri Takan"]
Adversaries: The Galactic Empire
Reasons of my own.
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Credits made a man fickle. With some such a thing was merely an item whilst others deemed it a way of life. One could say that Bounty Hunters were among the most greedy in existence, killing and capturing by design in an attempt to garner what credits they can. Yet not all shared such line of thought, or life. Fett was loyal to the credit, yes, but he had a code. As did all successful in the business that trades in death. Fett once worked for the Empire but they had grown stagnant in his eyes, and with the lack of work flowing his way the less active he became - costing him a portion of his credits and reputation; it simply could not do.

It was now that he stood aboard the same vessel that both the former High Inquisitor turned Sovereign and one of his many 'Guardians', or so they were called. The Mandalorian never paid them much mind. Truth be told, they weren't anything of note unless they were Jedi in his mind. Oh how he loathed that particular group of people. He was an odd-site to see, receiving the odd glare from the passing Soldier that looked upon his type with disgust. They say there aren't any victors in a war, and that everyone loses. They would be wrong. A profiteer always wins.

Insistent tapping filled his ear drums as he waited in relative silence; his steely yet hidden glare made it's way towards the woman who made such noises. It was irritating, painfully so. Would she stop if he asked him too? Maybe. But showing anything outside of combat efficiency wasn't something he tended to do. For now such a thing was put up with, but for how long was yet to be seen. Sooner or later they would make their departure, and it was then that Koda Fett had a particular monument to see for himself.
 

Cassus Stoma

Guest
C
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Defense Battery - Outskirts

Allies - AECO Team 12
Cynan Haguehttp://starwarsrp.net/user/17341-cynan-hague/ | Sekhmet Saranghttp://starwarsrp.net/user/17446-sekhmet-sarang/ | Slaask | Vash Rico

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It was hours ago now, or at least it felt like it. Cassus had no real concept of time right now. It was clearly displayed on the inside of his helmet but the scenery and mission at hand was too distracting. It was strange to him now that despite the loud crack of the pod colliding with the soil, nobody could hear them, nobody ever had. They must be reasonable far away, there was no other excuse. Once he disembarked the silent weaponry he had found themselves within his hand, and for some time afterwards he would scour the soon-to-be battlefield that was Zenith Prime in a desperate attempt to link up with his Squadmates in AECO Team 12. In time he would find them of course, that much he was certain, and that much he did. Relief would always rush over you after finding out you aren't alone, for Stoma experienced that before and it was most definitely unpleasant to say the least.

It was now that he remained knelt down in the soil, observing what was around him whilst waiting for the fateful words of Sergeant Hague to be spoken. He was in charge of this operation. Despite the cover of darkness in which they were invisible the enhanced vision that the AECO Helmet's provided were beneficial when it came to sight, and the vibrant colors of the flora that was usually lost in the dark simply wasn't. Cassus required something to look at, and so that was it. Thoughts of how unfortunate he was as a child flooded back to him, how could worlds be so exotic and pleasent to the eye whilst he had nothing but Tund? It was unfair, but so was everything else in life. It was just a concept the young man was yet to grasp.

"Let's go."

That was it, whether or not he truly knew where didn't matter. Hague was the rallying point in which he would follow. Today, or tonight - however one views it - would witness Cassus perform more than his share, but that was the way of the AECO; doing more than that is ever expected of you.
 
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Imperial Inquisitorius Headquarters
Defend
The Galactic Empire
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Esmond regulated his breath, focusing on each intake and outtake. He was meditating, but he felt lacking. Esmond wasn't at balance with himself, something he was sensing. But he couldn't focus, he had yet to master, or even completely grasp how to fully meditate. It was infuriating. No, no, he had to remain calm, to let the force surround him. Esmond threw his fist to the ground when klaxons began blaring. There was no way he could focus now. Defeated, he stood up, brushed himself off, and left the small room to see what was going on.

Red lights flashed in the normally dark looking Inquisitor headquarters. This wasn't some military drill being held by the Imperial army, Esmond sense something much worse. Esmond sent off running, looking to find the nearest computer center. He wasn't the only one in a rush, Inquisitors, Imperial Acolytes, Saber Guards, and more, ran through the hallways, all either looking to figure out what was happening, or to find their stations. Esmond stopped dead when he saw a holo screen depicting the events from satellites and other probes. An entire fleet had warped into orbit of Zenith Prime, although Esmond did not recognize who manned them, he knew they were hostiles. Eventually the satellites began losing contact, no doubt being shot down. Esmond turned to another holo screen, it was one of the many fortresses on Zenith Prime. Dropships, gunships, and all sorts of transport craft were already making their way down to the surface. The Imperial AA cannons were doing all they could to take them down, but it would only be a matter of time before the enemy disabled them.

Anger, hate, fear, and duty flushed through Esmond. Zenith Prime, the Inquisitor headquarters, this was Esmond's home. He had been raised by his father, @Baron Morcus, here, to be his true heir and become one of the Inquisitorus' finest. Esmond grabbed whoever was nearest and pulled them closer, yelling, "Who are they!?" The Inquisitor sneered before answering, "The Sovereignty, traitors to the Empire, and to the Inquisitorus." Esmond let go of the woman, before his face crumpled in disgust. Esmond had heard of the Sovereignty, many of its members were former Imperials, only adding to his hate. In his mind, Esmond made a resolution, to exact the Empire's revenge on these traitors, and to bring them to justice. However contorted that justice would be.
 
"You have to follow your own path."
Objective: CLASSIFIED
Location: CLASSIFIED
​Allies: Galactic Empire
Enemies: Sovereign Dissidents

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"Take, aim!" Krieg's metallic voice boomed over the firing range. Aboard his ship, The Iron Maiden ​several Imperial officers had failed to comply with his orders. The result was one to be expected when dealing with the Empire's own cyborg psychopath.

"Fire!" A troop of Stormtrooper's fired their blaster's down the firing range, their flurry of blaster bolts slamming into the fear-filled bodies. Seven bodies fell to the ground, and the assembled crowd had remained silent through the entire ordeal. All that could be heard was Krieg's optical lenses, giving off a soft whir as they focused on the bodies that fell to the floor. "Dismissed..." The sharp tone called over the firing deck, more a warning than a command. As the gathered crowd of officer's and deck crews made their way out of the improvised firing range, Krieg too made his way out of the room.

The heavy thuds left behind his black boots echoed down the hall as the doors to the main deck slid open. Krieg's shadowy figure was immediately noticed, and upon his arrival a silence fell over the deck. No one looked to him, no one spoke to him, and no one walked by him. A result of his grim outer appearance and even more aggressive means of dealing with the Empire's enemies.

"High Inquisitor." A voice called to him, causing his brow to rise from underneath his mask. Turning to see the advancing Officer of the Deck, a Captain of some name that the black-clad Miralukan had forgotten. "I demand an answer!" He bellowed, causing the deck to turn their attention to the man.

Krieg, while aggravated, merely ran a hand under the metallic faceplate that covered his scarred face. "Perhaps first, you will offer the question?" He countered, his thick Miralukan accent spilling through the metallic overtone.

"In the past seven days aboard my ship you have sentenced twenty of my men to death!" As the Captain spoke, Krieg made his way further down the deck. "Twenty-two." He corrected, his tone sharp, as if the forgotten two was an insult to his work.

"What?!" The Captain said, pulling his patrol cap from his head as he balled it in his hands.

Immediately, Krieg turned on a heel, closing the distance between the two until all the Captain could do was look into the soulless eyes that were his optical lenses. "I killed, twenty-two of your men." He said, with no lost confidence as he spoke to the Captain. "Perhaps, my investigation has not been thorough enough." Krieg said, raising one of his gauntleted hands to press against the Captain's cheek. "I sense....much fear in you, Captain. What have you to hide? Hmm?" He pressed, his grip tightening to the point where the Imperial Officer could not even speak. As the Captain struggled to free himself from the man's grip, Krieg's voice continued in it's suspecting tone. "I do not like secrets Captain. They make me nervous." He stated, before quickly clenching his hand into a fist, activating the blade in Krieg's gauntlet. Springing from above his fist, a metallic blade slid through the man's throat, as a knife through butter. Krieg watched as he spasmed and choked on his own blood, his arms flailing helplessly as the life was violently ripped from him.

Not after long the body had finished it's final spasm, Krieg retracted his blade into it's host, watching as the body fell to the ground lifelessly. "There we are....now your worries are no more. You are welcome, Captain." He said, before turning to the bridge once more. The gathered audience of officer's had watched the display in disbelief, however once Krieg turned to them, they rushed back to their own business.

A voice called out, a young blonde headed Ensign, running from the communications terminal behind the bridge. "Captain! We-" His words were cut the moment he saw the flooding corpse laid out on the ship's deck. "The Captain is no longer in Command. I am, what is it Ensign?" Krieg responded, turning to the man as he clasped his arms behind his back in a militant fashion.

"I.....we.....uhm.....the...there is a distress beacon. Z-Zenith Prime has....it's being invaded!" He blurted out, forcing through his stumbling words.

Immediately Krieg's voice called out, as he turned to the officers on the deck of the ship. "Prepare the fleet for hyperspace travel! Destination, Zenith Prime!" His orders were as clear as glass, and after the display with the Captain, no man dared challenge him.
 
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Camp Verd
Formal Inspection​
The Galactic Empire
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To be frank, Theodosia hated Zenith Prime. She had come here to take an official tour of the Inquisitorus headquarters, although she had not even reached their yet. No, her chief of staff, in all his genius, thought that a little 'Moff inspection' at some training camp would do well for Theodosia's PR. She wasn't even Moff of the planet, she resided on the heavily urbanized Manda, where she regularly wore designer fashion, and resided in palatial residents far beyond the dreams of any of these Imperial recruits. As they passed by columns of troops, formed on the base commanding officer's orders, she walked with a swagger, not use to the straightforward Imperial march most officers kept to. She felt trapped in her Moff's uniform, she rarely wore it outside of official functions like this, and for good reason. She hated it, although she adored the power that came with it. It was stiff, abrasive, and very bland. Theodosia couldn't wait to get off the damned planet and into some comfortable clothes. Not only that, the camp was very cold, especially for Theodosia. Not only did her uniform do little to keep her warm, but she was deathly thin. She had once been very ample, plump almost, but recently an opioid addiction had managed to grasp her in its clutches, causing a large weight loss. Now Theodosia always felt chilly, only made worse by the poor weather.

Once they had passed the final column, Theodosia impatiently asked the general, "How much longer of this do we have to go through, general? Its very endearing to see the legions of the Empire before me, but I have a schedule to adhere to." The general looked annoyed and insulted, but responded with a monotone voice, "Moff Naphrite, the only remaining destination on our little tour is the armored-" He was interrupted by blaring klaxons. Judging by the general's surprised expression, it was not a war drill. He began rushing off in one direction leaving Naphrite, "Stay here ma'am! One of my jay-ohs will guide you to a bunker." So Theodosia waited, and waited, listening to the continual blast of klaxons. Finally she couldn't take it anymore, and set off on her own, she didn't want to be caught flat footed in an attack, force knows what they would do to a high profile official such as her.

[member="Vestille Thumahra"]
 
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Allies: Galactic Empire​
Enemies: The Sovereignty​
Location: En Route to Challenge the Skies​
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The alarms had already sounded but Cyn was already jumping into her cockpit before the third alarm rang loudly into her ears. Regardless Cyn breathed evenly as she began her pre-flight routine, assured that everything in her TIE Interceptor was green and ready to fight. Her communications began to buzz before Cyn cleared the channels and kept only her squadron frequency.

"Pixie Leader, this Pixie 2, all systems check." Cyn called out.

"Pixie 3, check,"

"Pixie 4, check,"

"Pixie 5, check,"

"Pixie 6, check,"

After the next five Pilots confirmed their readiness status, "Alright Pixies, our targets are painted and our mission clear; Eliminate the Support Craft but prioritize any Enemy Bombers," Pixie Leader ordered.

A collective "Nōs habēmus Caelum!" was heard over comms and not a moment later the latches released and Pixie squadron was released. Cyn smiled underneath her helmet as she pushed her TIE forward and out of the hanger. Around her more TIE's began their flight path out of the hanger, and a steady stream of TIE fighters and Interceptors began to fly out to meet the enemy that dared face the Empire.

Cyn and the rest of her Pixie comrades formed up in attack formation and now they flew up to meet the enemy. She had a job to complete and perhaps now she would get her chance to be called a Baron of the Empire. And soon I'll be able to command a very large ship. Cyn knew how aspirations could blind many of great people but she knew better, her aspirations were only there to drive her and now Cyn wanted to seize her chance.

"Nōs habēmus Caelum et Stellās," We own the skies and stars.
 
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Defense Battery - Outskirts
Enemy: [member="Cassus Stoma"] | [member="Cynan Hague"] | [member="Sekhmet Sarang"] | [member="Slaask"] | [member="Vash Rico"]
Allies: [member="Isaac Stover"] | [member="Mark Hawkins"] | [member="DT-2319"]
Command never said you were the only ones hunting, did they?


Light showers churned the earthy jungle soil into sloppy mud that clung stubbornly to armor, washed away as quick as they appear. Through the cracks of the jungle ceiling, the flash of lightning was all the light nature provided, the rumbling of thunder building an atmosphere as thick as pea soup. Leaves as big as dinner plates yielded to the weight of the water, bending easily but not broken.

Throughout the jungle, no manner of creature peaked from their homes, cuddled by themselves and dry as sand- even the hunters kept to themselves, waiting for the rain to subside.

All but one.

In armor black as a Sith's cold heart they navigated through the forest with frightening alacrity, finding gaps through the flora barely perceivable yet with muted footsteps only audible through the ripples of water. So far from the main attraction of the night, where the garrison awaited with nervous breathes, a different sort of predator lurked the jungles.

Kneeling by a tree as big as a grown man, aged in unspoken wisdom, a death trooper beckons for his group to enter the small clearing: six of the local garrison, volunteers on a mission that would make martyrs out of many of them. Another soldier with armor identical to the leading element emerges, a long rifle slung on his back. He took a knee right next to his partner, body movement too clinical and lifeless to be human. Scattered throughout the jungle, elements of Gorgon had reached their positions and awaited further orders. Seven-three-four-three looked around his unit, lingering a second longer at his compatriot who responded with a slight dip in his head: they were ready.

"EMTQCXKHSEITUKILSA" he said, his words a series of incomprehensible pronunciations that spelled only utter nonsense to those without the proper keys. "ECATYXADSNEDRXOSRH: HRAEEAEEUTCHADSNIDCRGOAURUXISOSETWPE. " '43 glanced up and the rest of the group followed suit, ears peeled for the slightest bit of noise that was out of place.

Silence of the jungle was the silence of insects crying out vainly against the ticking clock.

"OSEGXXUAONGSOXXRIG." said 1st Lieutenant Corric, ending the short briefing with three quick burst of white noise over the channel, indicating radio silence. For better or for worse, every Gorgon operative was left alone with their own six-man commando team to hunt down an enemy of unknown strength and size.

Lucky for Gorgon, the terrain was in their favour: more precisely, what laid within the terrain. Tripwire flares, noisemakers, claymores: the moment command's sensors went hot over the area's grid, Gorgon was already on site with their tools of trade. Though they lacked the heavy fire support of their garrisoned brothers, Gorgon would have to make do.

Like they always have.




OOC



Gorgon Encryption Keys for Writer Benefit:
  1. Gorgon
  2. Terror
Handy Decryption Site: Here



 
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Allies
[member="Inyri Takan"], [member="Koda Fett"]
Enemies
[member="Cynthia Alucard"]
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Varik's boots clacked off the sheening clean floor of the hangar as he approached the dropship, approaching the group of Guardians on one side, and the Mandalorian that led elite soldiers on the other. As he stared at both, he took a deep breath, deciding that it was best they did know the plan. Especially if something were to happen to him. "Takan, I'll be accompanying your team. We'll be moving into the Upper Echelons of the base - the highest level of the Inquisitorus will be there, and we'll be eliminating them and shutting down their systems. Fett, your team will land near Sector X-1, there's an area called the Big Stalk, jutting out from the mountain. I want bombs on the bridge over to it, the supports holding it up. With both those areas eliminated, high command of the base will be in chaos and our main forces can come in and mop up the remaining forces once that shield's down."

Ice gave a nod as he walked into the dropship, waiting for his Guardians to join him before he signalled the pilot to head down. A million thoughts went through his mind as the began screeching out of the Hangar and down towards Zenith Prime, with turbolasers and blaster fire soaring past their craft. They would make it. He was confident of that, but - something told him there would be more than he'd bargained for on this synthetic world. His eyes travelled over and past the Guardians who awaited arrival, seated calmly in their safety harnesses while he stood in the middle of them. They were all good men and women. He wondered how many would make it through.

As they began their approach, escorted by squadrons of fighters and with bombers making their first approach on the shield, Varik began to focus, closing his eyes as he simply listened around him. There was much that was strong in the force in this place. As their fighters rushed in, protecting the dropships while they passed through the shields with some more of their escorts, the bombers preparing Ion bombs to try and drop on the reinforced deflector shield below.

The Imperials had excellent pilots, he knew that. The battle here would not be decided in the air, but on the inside. It- his thoughts and focus were suddenly cut off. As they had approached the Upper Echelon, a lower Turbolaser had damaged, or at least the engines. There were alarms as he saw the dropship pilot desperately trying to maintain control, find a safe landing spot. With unusual balance, the Sovereign marched forward to the cockpit. "Accelerate."

The pilot looked back at him in utter confusion for a moment before knowing to follow his orders. Putting all power into thrusters, the transport rocketed forward; straight into the side of the Upper Echelon, crashing through the side of it as the back end of the ship jutted out from the base, smoking. Even he stumbled and fell as they made their rough landing. He hoped that Fett and the others were having an easier time than this, but he doubted it.

After all, he hadn't heard of many times the Imperials took prisoners.
 
Prepare for your... examination.
Defense Battery - Outskirts
Labkarhip Mordulla


Location: Defense Battery
Enemy: @Cassus Stoma | [member="Cynan Hague"] | [member="Sekhmet Sarang"] | [member="Slaask"] | [member="Vash Rico"]
Allies: [member="Isaac Stover"] | [member="Mark Hawkins"] | [member="DT-2319"]
Objevtice: Medic and don't die

[SIZE=10.5pt]Lab was not a fighter or in any was much of a solider, but not for reasons one would expect. She was not a pacifist in the slightest, being the CEO of her own arms manufacturing company, knowing her way around a blade and in odd circumstances, when bearing witness to gruesome scene, would go slightly insane, very eagerly partaking in the bloodshed. Still a proper war zone, with two defined sides trying to kill each other was a new experience for the Medical Officer, new protocol to follow, rules of engagement, strict orders the works.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]One would almost thing Lab was very unsuited for the battlefield if not for herself being well acquainted with rough and unforgiving environments, the swampy like landscape being like the many remote worlds she explores along with her sinister teacher. In all though when it came down to it the Twi'lek doctor was here as a medic, to keep the Death Troopers on their feet, more so with Sovereignty dropping in some sort of elite troopers everywhere, meaning being ambushed was a very possible event. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]The thought of ending up in such a fire fight sent a small shiver down Labs spin, her blue hands clutching tighter around her SE-14C blaster, tightening a strap on the officer armour she wore, minus the helmet due to obvious reasons, 'ahhh this suspense is killing me, though I doubt these guys are up for conversation... not like I can understand them anyways, what's with those voice scramblers anyway, not like the enemy would be able to hear you over the battle anyways'.[/SIZE]
 

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