Dominion Ezekial Saw the Wheel | SO Dominion of Vestar/Resu

[Darth Empyrean]

The Fall of the Tsis’kaar had come from two of their own; the Heirs Apparent, the Little Snakes. Marr and Haxim cut the head off the snake in the death of Darth Ophidia - ending the venomous coup attempt by her ilk. Now, fractured into multiple parts, the Tsis’kaar reels from the destruction of their leadership and subsequent splitting of loyalties.​

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Amidst this chaos, the victors of the civil war, the Eternals return to Jutrand to celebrate - fleets and military parades move through the streets. Politicians claim ignorance of their plots and return to the Imperial bloc with little fanfare themselves. All over the Order begins to prostrate itself before the Emperor and those that backed him.​

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In this moment of victory, the Emperor did not stop to enjoy the stench of peace - instead beginning his own movements behind the scenes. In the dark of night, a dozen and more politicians, lobbyists, and Sith Lords who were known opponents of the Eternalists were captured or killed by his forces - from his Wraith Gerwald Lechner , or Venn Kolis , each given priority to move through his City and end the resistance to his rule.​

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As families were torn apart in his victory, and crimes were committed in the shadow of the world’s celebration, he called the most notorious and influential Sith left to the Imperial Citadel. The night sky was filled with an indescribable amount of ship traffic - but those the Emperor had called were given priority and escorted through exclusive air lanes meant just for them.​

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Objective I: A New World Order​

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The Sith were brought to the Assembly Hall, a grand hall filled with Sith artifacts from the ages - some minor, like the wayfinder to the Traya Academy, while others were notably more interesting - like the Grimoire of Mother Talzin. Each was so heavily steeped in the dark side, one might assume the room had a miasma between their aura. Most had been collected by the Reclamation Service, a nod to the skill of its leading archeologist Vector Monk .​

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Towards the bottom of this gathering sat the Emperor and his Empress, the Dread Queen Srina Talon . He waited for them all to file in, find their seats, and the murmuring to slow and cease. Each pod had a privacy filter for their own conversations, room for their guards and guests, but only one in each could speak - each represented a world, a political strength. Those gathered would notice, however, a notable amount of missing persons they had seen only a day prior.​

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There was something stirring - the Emperor never called this many Sith home, not with this many backgrounds and allegiances. Even under the guise of celebration - he had brought all the influential Sith of the Order home on the same day to tell them something; or to demand something.​

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Objective II: The Second Tide​

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As the Emperor consolidates the power of the Order within, he has sent out those Imperial Legions not recalled home to begin their conquest of the nearby worlds once more. With peace internally met for the first time in months, their rabid conquest and consumption of nearby worlds began once more; first and foremost, with the world of Vestar.​

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Once home to the Icarii people, now they exist only in memory and folk tales. The Research Guilds have requested any archeological evidence of them that may remain, uncorrupted yet by the ancient disease spread by the Empire - their regenerative nature could prove valuable to the Order as a whole.​

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Others however, have been tasked with reclaiming new colonies and space ports. Some centuries prior, multiple spaceports and towns sprung up to help accommodate trade and extract natural resources from the world. While they pale in comparison to more civilized worlds, and no outright planetary government has formed - each space port has its players and movers.​

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Ensure they are loyal to the Emperor and the Order.​

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Objective III: Moross Remains​

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The Planet of Resu was once an important world to the notorious Moross Crusade, who fell upon their own blade when their living gods were found to be all the less than immortal. One such being, Stone Hermes, returned to this world for yet unknown reasons. While nothing remains of the Resu people on any of the hundred moons, they still hold innumerable disabled mining operations that need to be brought back online.​

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Study the disease that has taken these people from their home, and ensure that it does not come back. For those more commercially inclined, bring the ancient mining complexes back online and see profit uncomparable - for these are vastly rich moons, and whoever controls their ore flow would control a significant portion of the Empire’s newly found resources.​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Objective I: A New World Order​

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Slowly the Emperor stood from his seat upon the Throne and looked out to his subjects, raising his still mortal hand and removing the noise with nothing more than a thought. It didn’t stop the rest from talking, only silenced it to all those beyond just a few meters - effectively leaving the Assembly Hall silent.​

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“Today is a day of Victory - a day we should celebrate. Yet it is the duty of those with strength to lead those who lack; and we must never cease in our labors. I have brought you here to announce the new Order - a change from our warlordism and psychopathic despotism from every would be upstart with a fleet.”, he said with a slight sneer - looking directly towards one of those very ones, though as others in the know might realize someone too small to actually cause much resistance.​

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The more dangerous Sith who still proclaimed themselves independent of the Emperor were missing. Even those who had promised to rejoin after the fall of Ophidia.​

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“I am here to declare the establishment of the Assembly, both the Chamber of Nobility and the Chamber of Corporations. Most of you will rule worlds, fleets, and serve to represent your political blocs - but you will now do so under my authority, as Dark Lord and Emperor.”, the Corpse God said as he looked about to the rest there.​

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“For too long you have squandered independence - moved as your own entities, protected by my strength. No longer. Debts are owed, and this is your payments; to join the Empire, to pay your tithe, and rule my Order as Kings and Queens. We prepare for war once more, and I will not suffer another civil war as we strike out against the Trade League, Imperial Remnants, and Galactic Alliance.”​

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“Those who rules worlds, shall serve in the Chamber of Nobility. There within they will create laws in my name, while I raise a few among you to serve upon the Dark Council. I shall guide the blade of our Order towards the Core by every passing day - and those with me shall reap great rewards for their loyalty… The rest, will die, as the Snake did.”​

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Tag: Open​

 

[Darth Kentarch]

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OBJECTIVE 1: A New World Order
Jutrand

Cut the head off the snake and the body will die. The problem was the Tsis'kaar didn't necessarily function like a serpent, and the Sith tended to claim the titles and mantles of the fallen forerunners.

The neon glow of Jutrand's undercity painted the rain-slick streets with a garish smear of color, the relentless drizzle an incessant hiss against the durasteel landscape. It was here, in the labyrinth of the lower levels, where the city's pulse throbbed with the desperation and vice of those who thrived in the shadows. Darth Kentarch moved through these streets, a specter cloaked not just by his dark attire but by the very aura of danger that followed him.

His boots made no sound on the wet pavement, his presence barely stirring the mist that coiled around the feet of the unsuspecting denizens of this forsaken place. His senses were attuned to the whispers of betrayal, the soft footfall of treachery that sought to dance just beyond reach. The Tsis'Kaar were like phantoms now, fading into myth, but Kentarch knew better. Phantoms left traces, if one knew how to look.

His thoughts drifted to the Emperor's gathering at the Imperial Citadel. The Emperor's Assembly was a glittering facade, a carnival of opulence where the Sith elite draped themselves in silks and metals, their eyes alight with the fires of ambition and conspiracy. Above, the assembly hall shimmered with a thousand chandeliers, each a sun illuminating the theater of power plays and whispered promises. They would broker and jockey for new positions and titles, while he was left hunting down rats and snakes in the muck in the forgotten corners of this world.

A tip from a well-placed source — a rodent-like informant whose eyes flickered with the greed that was the lifeblood of the undercity — had led him here, to a sector where the neon signs flickered erratically, and the stench of decay hung thick in the air. He sought a listening post, a nexus of whispers and secrets, where the Tsis'Kaar remnants, like cornered animals, might still reach out to their scattered kin.

 

[Darth Metus]

OBJECTIVE ONE

The name "Assembly Hall" did nothing to speak of its splendor.

For a soul as meek and lowly as an aide, it was the definition of majesty. The emblems of the mighty Sith commanded the attention of the eye. Artifacts of untold power radiated with a positively infectious aura. It was enough that the young man stumbled in his step as his betters flocked into place. His employer, one who had remained loyal throughout the civil conflict, huffed impatiently and looked behind him. "Gods above, will you get it together? His Excellency will be here shortly."

The young man humbly nodded his head rapidly before following in the ruler's wake. In short order, they followed the summons to the letter and took their place within one of the numerous pods. There, the aide tapped away at his datapad, setting up screens to take notes and to ferry news to his employer's other subordinates. Within the confines of the pod, he felt relatively at ease - as if the thin space would protect him against the Sith flocking into the Hall.

But just as his fingers started a fresh header, a creeping chill raced through his veins. He gasped. Sputtered. Coughed. At leaned back in his seat. He raised a hand, muttering a slight "excuse me" so that his employer would not turn around, before setting his sights upon the main podium.

It wasn't long until the main event commenced. The Dead God silenced the Assembly Hall hall with a motion of his hand and introduced the changes that would come to his Empire. As he spoke, the aide made no notes. Instead, one leg settled neatly over the other whilst he looked upon the twin thrones. Borrowed eyes, freshly amber, focused upon the Dread Queen, whilst a bemused smile played on the young man's lips.

Awareness. Memory. The flood resumed.

Not nearly enough purple for my liking.

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: The Second Tide
Equipment: Lightsaber, Sword, Dagger, Armor
Tags: Open!

Vestar, home to a now long dead yet very fascinating species that could survive injuries even a Sangnir such as himself would be unable to regenerate from. Some within the Sith Order even wanted to collect samples of what was left to use in future projects. Having durable soldiers that could shrug off most wounds would be invaluable in the conquests ahead after all. But despite his shows of loyalty to the Sith Order after the death of his master, shows that ranged from faux to genuine depending on which one was being discussed, he had no interested in helping craft an unbeatable army.

Darth Strosius only rarely pursued such intellectual goals and even then only in service to himself, so he chose to undertake the more physical tasks that were asked of the forces sent to Vestar. In particular there were a number of spaceports and towns that held no allegiances but to themselves yet were vital to control if the planet itself was to be taken.

While there was always diplomacy and bartering to be done with the local powers that be, Darth Strosius had things to prove. His 'loyalty' to the wider Sith Order was still the subject of debate, rightfully so in their defense, and as such a more drastic show of force was needed. Helping put down the rebellious remnants of the Tsis'Kaar was a good start but aiding in the conquest of a new world as he had done so many times before would go farther in assuring Empyrean of where his allegiance lay. For now, at least.

As such it was only natural that his contribution to the Vestar campaign be one of force and undeniable destruction of their enemies. Illume Spaceport had become a hub for criminal activity on Vestar, one of the main smuggling dens featuring a small town of scum and villainy that was little more than a bunch of glorified gang strongholds and safehouses. But as the skies above the spaceport darkened with a few dozen transport shuttles, the decadence and slime of Illume would finally come to an end. By blade and blaster.

 

[Alina Tremiru]

Objective 1

He certainly looked like a corpse.

Alina couldn't see the similarities anymore. Darth Maliphant, possessed by the Worm, had become this. She was there that day, when it happened. But she hadn't seem him since. Hadn't seen how much his body had shattered and scarred. It was saddening, in a way. Maliphant was one of the few Sith Lords she didn't hate the guts of. But now he was both Maliphant and the Worm. Emperor.

"Who will be the first we strike, my Emperor?"

Dromund Kaas's progress was going well. The Academy was running under the watchful eyes of those she'd selected, Kyvre Zadar among them. They would supply the alchemical and sorcerous needs of the Sith Empire, born anew. But there were questions on what to focus on. Jedi were a very different target than the Imperial Remnants, after all.

Darth Empyrean | Darth Metus

 

[Darth Kentarch]

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OBJECTIVE 1: A New World Order
Jutrand

Kentarch paused before a nondescript building, its facade a patchwork of rust and old posters. But behind its veneer of neglect, a faint signal pulsed — a frequency not used by the common rabble of the city. It was cleverly hidden, a secret voice in a cacophony of noise. He approached the door, a slab of metal that looked like it hadn't moved in years. His fingers brushed against the surface, and with a subtle exertion of the Force, he felt the lock click open.

The room beyond was cloaked in darkness, a stark contrast to the neon battlefield outside. The only light came from the blinking consoles and screens that festooned the walls, each one a spider in a web of information. Holograms flickered erratically, displaying star maps, communication logs, and encoded transmissions. Kentarch's eyes, honed by the dark side, adjusted to the absence of light. He moved through the room with deliberate steps, each footfall a silent decree of impending doom for those who had dared operate this outpost. Dust motes danced in the streams of light that cut through the darkness like slivers of truth in a world of lies.

The air was stale, the scent of electronics mingling with something else — fear. Someone had been here recently, the consoles still warm to the touch. Screens displayed half-erased data, scrambled in haste. They had known he was coming; the Tsis'Kaar's caution was well-founded.

Kentarch's thoughts drifted to the Emperor's Assembly. They were celebrating a victory in a war of their own making, clinking glasses filled with spirits that sparkled like the distant stars. They were blind, drunk on their own sense of immortality, on the intoxicating elixir of power. Yet, while they schemed and plotted Kentarch eliminated their enemies in darkness. He would not be thanked, they would not speak of his victories, and they likely did not notice his absence.

Was this all not ironic? Here he was hunting traitors, once traitor himself. But he dismissed those thoughts.

Kentarch's hand glided over the equipment, each piece telling a fragment of the story. Then, his gaze fixed upon a holoprojector. It was still active, its light casting an azure hue over a crumpled piece of flimsy paper on the floor — a list of contacts, perhaps, or the fragmented remnants of a message.

As he picked it up, the door he had so silently breached was flung open. Four figures clad in the tattered remnants of the Tsis'Kaar uniforms flooded in, blasters drawn, faces set in grim determination. They had expected to ambush him, to overwhelm him with their numbers, to protect their last bastion of hope.

But they had not expected Darth Kentarch.

His lightsaber ignited, the red glow painting the room in the color of danger. Blaster shots streaked through the air, their paths as clear to Kentarch as the stars in the sky. The battle was over almost before it began. When the last of them lay defeated, the only sounds in the room were the hum of technology and the soft sizzle of ionized air.

 

[Diodoros]

Location: Vestar
Objective: 2
Tag: OPEN

Diodoros now had some new responsibilities he needed to live up to, having now offically signed on with the Sith as a freelance part of their armed forces. With basically a license to do as he pleased in exchange of it being directed towards the enemies of the Sith and their Empire. Which was basically everyone. While also being free of persecution for his actions within their territory.

But what good was he as a privateer if he had no crew or decent hardware. He needed to acquire these things. Sure he could just buy them with his own wealth. But why spend his hard earned gold when he could just steal what he needed instead. Diodoros had a prime target in mind as well for this. Vestar, a world that sat at the outer stretches of the outer rim. About as remote from the core as some could get.

The world was to be conquered by the Sith warmachine. But sense it wasn’t yet enveloped under their sphere of influence. It was fair game in his eyes, but also meant he needed to act quickly. First thing he needed was a decent ship, his modest personal yacht wasn’t going to cut it as a raiding vessel.

Diodoros was preemptively on the planet, trying to get an idea of where he should strike. He also got a bit of an idea of the world’s troubled past as well. Turns out there was a blackmarket for the lost relics of an ancient civilization. A fate that was almost shared with his own species, thanks to the Old Empire.

Soon enough though he would notice the sudden arrival of Sith soldiers dropping in via shuttles to the shady spaceport down he found himself at. It was now or never. Diodoros made his way into a criminal establishment where thugs and smugglers rushed around to deal with the incoming Sith threat. But the arrival of the large golden man had them pause for a moment to take in the sudden intruder.

Looking at them he had a wide, confident grin before boldly announcing, “I want unlimited access to your wares. Give my all your stuff, please... He wanted to make his intentions to steal from them very clear. Diodoros wasn’t really one for sneaking around and ambushing his opponents. Needless to say the various criminals did not take well to his demands… ​

 

[Darth Kentarch]

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OBJECTIVE 1: A New World Order
Jutrand

But here, in the underbelly of Jutrand, beneath the sheen of that distant world, Darth Kentarch was alone with the specters of his own making. As he deactivated his crimson blade, the air cooled, the echoes of the clash fading into the oppressive silence of the listening post. The room, lit by the cold glow of monitors, seemed to shrink around him, the walls steeped in the ghosts of the fallen Tsis'Kaar. Outside, the city's endless drizzle whispered against the steel and transparisteel, a constant reminder that Jutrand wept for none.

He glanced once more at the note in his hand, the names and secrets it held a small piece of a larger puzzle. With a deft movement, he tucked it inside his cloak, his figure a black silhouette against the stark light of the monitors. And with that, Darth Kentarch vanished from the listening post as silently as he had entered, his presence dissipating into the city's ceaseless heartbeat. The rain continued to fall, washing away the blood of the Tsis'Kaar, carrying the secrets of empires through the gutters and into the darkness of the undercity.

The communicator on his waist chirped a shrill note that cut through the silence like a vibroblade. He lifted it, the holo-display casting a blue pall over his features as a distorted voice broke through the static.

"Lord Kentarch we have a murder of a high-ranking aristocrat whose attendance was expected at the assembly."

"Say no more, send me the coordinates and I'll be there shortly," Kentarch replied quickly.

A quick response, a club known as the "The Guilded Guile". Kentarch did not know of it, but it was some seedy place where the rich and nobility went 'slumming'.

Darth Kentarch walked alone through the rain-slicked alleys of Jutrand's underbelly, far from the glow of the Assembly's grandeur. Here, the city's heartbeat was a rhythm of desperation and danger, where the high-born seldom tread. But treachery had reached out from these depths, and an aristocrat, loyal to the Sith cause, had fallen — not in the sanctity of a duel but murdered coldly, his blood seeping into the grimy floors of the Gilded Guile. The crime scene was still untouched by the authorities — in this part of Jutrand, justice was as absent as the light of day.

Kentarch stepped over the threshold, the door groaning like a tired whisper from the past. The stench of stale spice and sweat assaulted his senses, a stark contrast to the sterile antiseptic of the listening post he'd left behind. The patrons, a motley crew of drifters and dreamers, cast furtive glances at his imposing figure before returning to their vices, hoping not to draw the attention of death, which seemed to walk in his wake.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Jutrand, Imperial Assembly Hall​

The Dark Lord of the Kainate sat within His personal box, secluded back and away from the main congregation of the Assembly. At His side were many attendants, clad in black sack-cloth and inked with diabolical tattoos. Flanking the entrance to the box were two of the Crownguard, warriors enhanced with the Dark Side and entrusted with the Dark Lord's protection. They stood, silent and still as death, waiting for the moment to put their many decades of training to the test. Not that the Dark Lord truly needed protection, He was more than a match for any who would declare challenge against Him. But such guards were a symbol of prestige among the Sith, as were the attendants besides Him.

In the Order, every action was to serve a purpose. How you stood, how you say, what words flowed from your mouth, and what you wore. It was all designed to send signals to the other Sith, to get the message across. Power, respect, and fear were the pillars which held the Order aloft. Loyalty was often a transient concept; it could be bought, it could be swayed, and it could also be false. Some sincerely bought into the concept of loyalty, and loyalty was sometimes repaid faithfully. But the Dark Lord had lived long enough and survived enough betrayals to believe otherwise, and to prepare accordingly.

Slowly, Emperor Empyrean stood amidst the sea of Sith and Imperials. His voice carried far, none could proclaim they did not hearken to his every word. The Dark Lord merely smiled, watching with half-lidded eyes that saw farther than most. "So, it begins. The Serpent's blood sanctifies a new age."

 

[Annika Starfire]

Location: Vestat
Objective: Stalk - Objective 2
Tags: Diodoros
Wearing: this

Annika had been tasked with shadowing this man, Diodoros to see what his intentions were. The Sith were dangerous paymasters, as she was learning herself, so when someone appears, asking to work for them, it was inevitable that certain Lords asked questions. It was an appropriate assignment for her she was not the greatest fighter yet, but she was not known to the man. She had the skills and connections to move around quite easily, sprinkle her natural charisma with zeltron pheremones to grease the wheels. On top of that, she was utterly expendable to the Sith, if this turned out to be some trap, perhaps he was a Jedi plant, and she was captured or killed, they wouldn't shed a tear.

She put her hand to her slightly bruised neck with that thought, her own potential mortality was something she was still getting used to in this new life, but she accepted it, she wanted everything, and to get it she might have to give the same.

She was already sat in a bar opposite the location that her master's operatives had flagged as the target. She had been taking selfies with a little zabrak teenage smuggler, but when she saw her mark, and felt the tension beginning to rise in the air as his force appeared from their drop points, she kissed the guy on the cheek and ushered him back inside the bar.

“I want unlimited access to your wares. Give my all your stuff, please...

She grinned to herself at the man, confident and boldly going about his business. The teen pushed herself to her feet and prepared to join him, giving a few seconds to see how the situation unfolded, just to make sure she was seeing what she thought. High above the street she saw a man moving across behind a railing and levelling a rifle at the golden warrior stood in the doorway. "oops..." she said, as she grasped the rusted railing with the force and yanked it loose. It clattered to the floor a few metres from Diodoros , followed immediately by a man and his rifle landing in a heap, with him clutching a clearly broken arm where he had tried to catch himself. Annika smiled to herself, the Sith Acolyte was learning to turn the party tricks she had known for years into quite a useful skillset. The girl adjusted her hat and then leaned against one of the metal supports of the bar front, ready to take cover, but also ready to engage if necessary.

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

A'MIA

Objective I: A New World Order

The Lord Seer of Korriban arrived at the assembly hall at the heel of Marquess Elmindra Xitaar who strode toward their destination at the right hand of Darth Caedes . Alone, each of them were striking figures but together they made for a formidable presence. Though still an acolyte, A'Mia had been growing ravenously of mind and within the force. Even her body continued to undergo changes, both at her own hand and through interactions with the dark side. Today though she wore the face of humility and service. She was dressed in her military uniform and she looked as near human as she ever could, though still a head taller than the tallest in their retinue.

Their group consisted largely of Elmindra's chosen attendants, the woman herself carrying an air of command and control even here in a place so far out of her power. The two who stood out from the largely Falleen company were A'Mia and of course the King. He led them all to their appointed pod and their party filed in with all the decorum expected during such political affairs. Elmindra's subtle touch on their minds ensuring they moved with decisive grace.

 

[Diodoros]

Location: Vestar
Objective: 2
Tag: Annika Starfire

Diodoros, as unobservant as he was, would not be at all aware of the young sith stalker he had. However, before any fighting started, he looked over to see a man that had fallen off a railing. Dropping their rifle along with them. Raising an eyebrow and stepping closer to them the golden man leaned down to grab their weapon. With his attention drawn to something else the other criminals around him made his demands towards started to take the advantage that had presented itself.

Several of them quickly upholstered their blasters before shooting at Diodoros. Getting quite a few solid hits into his backside. He hissed out a painful breath through gritted teeth. Realizing now that it was pretty foolish of him to have turned his back to them. Charging the blaster rifle he picked up in his hands he rotated his stance to face the thugs, clearly displeased from being shot at like that. To the shock of his opponents he wasn’t on the floor dead. His Firrerreo biology keeps him alive. "My turn..." With one arm he brought the rifle up and began to recklessly spray blaster bolts through the room.

Considering he was hip-firing with one arm, his aim was abysmal. But with the high volume of rounds saturating the room, it didn’t really matter how many rounds shot around his opponents. Shortly after the blaster began to overheat, burning his hand some. Flinching, Diodoros tossed the weapon away before looking around at the carnage he unleashed on the thugs here.

Now the freshly minted privateer just needed to actually start plundering here. He wondered what kind of illicit goods they had in store here. Illegal weapons? Spice? Slaves? I really didn’t want to deal with the latter… ​

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: The Second Tide
Equipment: Lightsaber, Sword, Dagger, Armor
Tags: Open!

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The first boots of the invaders hit the streets of Vestar's most illicit spaceport not long after the first few transports filled the skies above it, the landings quick in order to take advantage of the defender's disarray and get as many of the Inquisition's Troopers onto the ground as possible before a proper defense of the spaceport could be mounted. Surprise and superior organization were their best weapons when in unfamiliar territory after all. So long as one could wield them properly and swiftly of course.

Darth Strosius had been on one of the first shuttles to hit the streets, his lightsaber and sword at the ready in case any of the local denizens were smart enough to be lying in wait. He had no doubt that they would be fortifying and holding up in their countless dens and safehouses in the area but he had his eyes set on the real prize. The spaceport itself was by far the most valuable building in the whole little smuggler town and it was the main method by which proper invasion forces could be landed and supplied.

So while the gangs and criminals retreated to their hideaways and stashes to prepare for the inevitable battle to come, the forces of the Inquisition began their steady advance through the streets. Fighting was already breaking out even with transports still landing, many of the residents unwilling to back down so easily. But the forces of the Inquisition were no strangers to urban fighting and were making progress towards the spaceport soon enough, even if every step had to involve a good few blaster bolts to make.

 

[Darth Kentarch]

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OBJECTIVE 1: A New World Order
Jutrand Slums, 'The Guilded Guile'

Kentarch stepped over the threshold, the door groaning like a tired whisper from the past. The stench of stale spice and sweat assaulted his senses, a stark contrast to the sterile antiseptic of the listening post he'd left behind. The patrons, a motley crew of drifters and dreamers, cast furtive glances at his imposing figure before returning to their vices, hoping not to draw the attention of death, which seemed to walk in his wake.

The body of the aristocrat lay crumpled in a dark corner booth, his fine garments a mockery amidst the squalor. His eyes were frozen open in surprise, the final expression of a man who had never expected death to come in such a place. Around him, the revelry of the club continued unabated, the patrons numbed to tragedy.

Kentarch knelt beside the corpse, his fingers tracing the telltale signs of a struggle. There were no visible wounds; the cause of death was not immediately apparent. A spilled glass, its contents mingling with the pooling blood, suggested poison — a silent killer in a den of noise and chaos.

The Sith Lord closed his eyes, reaching out with the Force. It whispered to him, telling him the tales of the dead man's final moments, the fear, and the betrayal. It spoke of a cloaked figure, a shadow among shadows, administering death with a deft touch before vanishing into the night.

Kentarch stood, his cloak absorbing the light as his eyes surveyed the room. The club's patrons were suspects each and every one, from the Twi'lek dancer to the Rodian bartender, yet none had the air of a murderer. This was a crime of passion, perhaps, or of political intrigue — a calculated statement made with the lifeblood of a Sith loyalist.

The Sith Lord's investigation would be meticulous. He would speak to the club's owner, a slippery individual with eyes too quick to shift and a smile too ready to spread. He would interrogate the patrons, peeling back the layers of deceit with the precision of a surgeon. And he would find the assassin, for the dark side was a tool sharper than any blade, and it cut to the heart of truth with unerring accuracy.

 

[Annika Starfire]

Location: Vestat
Objective: Stalk - Objective 2
Tags: Diodoros
Wearing: this

It was the strangest sensation, not unpleasant, but certainly not good. It washed over her as she witnessed the murder of all those criminals within a few seconds, it was like she felt them dieing... and yet, with a curl of her lip, she didnt mind that feeling, it made her feel power.

The man was clearly here for the reasons suspected, either that or he was cosplaying the bad guy exceedingly well. He put down the rifle so she thought she might introduce herself. She wasn't going to tell him she was a Sith spy just yet, while it was hardly a surprise that they would check up on him, that wouldn't stop him getting angry and taking it out on her in the moment.

"Hey, think they are still serving drinks in there?" the half-zeltron asked casually as she walked out from behind her vantage point to join the man, carefully stepping around a pool of blood on the floor so as not to ruin her trainers unnecessarily. "That was pretty quick work, you think there is anyone left in there at this point?"

The teenager squatted down next to a man who was clearly not long for this world and spoke to him. "What do you think? How many more are in there?" she asked. "Hsun ku oulu wa hsun.. nu nu putaatoo hsun! Goofaa nu"

"I dont speak victim dummy, your going to have to say that again." she grasped his forearm with hers and began to brand him. What had once been a fun trick to give her followers a temporary brand of anni-k, she had learned could be excruciatingly painful if she allowed the force to flow more freely through it. The man's eyes widened as he felt the pain, and then the sickness that the girl at the convention had got just a taste of when she had done it by accident. He gritted his teeth as invisible flames burned his soul. "We was just drinking, ain't doon nuffin while bosses sell chit to the shukkas, got a posse inside with the bosses, den us"

Annika smiled kindly and stood up to turn back to, adjusting her hat as she did Diodoros "I feel like you are the 'finish em off' type, want to just get it over with?" her eyes flicked to the man on the ground. She knew the man was about to be executed in cold blood, she wasn't there yet herself, but it did need doing.

 

[Darth Fury]

Objective III: Moross Remains
Resu, Bridge of the Stellar Fury

The bright colors of the systems sun played off of the gases of Resu, illuminating the Lussk-class Assault Cruisers bridge with varied colors. The hum of the ships engines and numerous consoles almost seemed to synchronize with the various voices of the bridge staff as officers and enlisted went about their work. They had just exited Hyperspace into the Realm of Resu. A mysterious and almost daunting system with a storied past indeed.

While Darth Fury was normally a man to jump at the chance to display his martial prowess and crush any under the heel of his armada, he opted for a different route. He could have taken his Battlegroup and its logistics to Vestar like most Sith no doubt were. But no, he instead decided to go for the more profitable system of Resu. A place not many would be too keen on trying to tackle. But Fury thought himself a good candidate.

While he was no scientist, the fate of the locals and their civilization held no interest to him. The numerous mines spread across the hundred moons of this massive gas giant, however, did. While his command staff were under orders to bring back anything of value of the previous civilization and their people that might be of value, Darth Fury instead opted to throw his ships and their logistics at tackling the prospect of turning this system into a bustling mining colony. With himself as its main profiteer in his Emperor's name, of course.

Partnering with a mining corporation based out of Resu Exodus, who were obviously all too willing to see Resu restored, they would provide the material and manpower to get the mines and the large mining station back up and running. For his part, the Lord of the Sith was to place his power and authority behind their operation and use his ships to protect the system and haul the miners and their material to and from Resu. It was a mutually beneficial relationship that he hoped would be the start of his rise within the Order and the new Empire to be.

​

 

[Blade Ice]

OBJECTIVE 1: A New World Order
Tags: Open

---

Before the entrance of the assembly hall stood a man with black hair and black scraggly beard due for a trimming. He wore an old tattered brown long coat that had seen a thousand battles and was so patch worked one might wonder if there was even a thread of the original coat left. Underneath the coat was simply a black T-shirt, jeans, and combat boats. Panning up a half-burnt stem of a death stick hung from his lips, and his burning orange eyes like a sulfur flame staring at the assembly hall doors. The eyes, the outward scars of his curse that stained his black soul, he had been rocking them before it was the cool sith thing to do.

He looked more like a homeless man then a sith lord these days, but he never was much for tradition and gaudy displays of power or influence. The Rebel Sith hadn't stepped foot into the sith affairs in a very long time, only choosing particular battles to appear in for some time now. He had stopped caring about fighting back against the stagnant authority figures that far too often ruled and lorded over so many that called themselves sith. Because no matter what he had done in the past the sheep still followed those leaders off a cliff. Over and over again, same leaders' same results no one ever learned or listened.

He pulled the stem of the death stick from his lips and toss it on the ground then stomped it out with toe of his boot. He then started to walk forward towards the assembly hall, as he approached one of the guards reached out his hand in the universal sign for halt. Blade slowed his pace but continued forward causing the guard to tense up and speak. "Halt!" Blade's pace slowed a little more but did not stop just yet, as he outstretched his arms to show he was not armed. "Who are you?" The guard asked as Blade got a few steps closer to him.

This time just a few feet in front of the guard Blade finally stopped. "Darth Lucid." He said in his rough gravelly voice. He didn't expect the name to mean anything to the guard or anyone else. His name was long dead to most of the known galaxy only in a few dark corners was he remembered. Those that remembered or spoke of him spoke in hushed tones of the Rebel Sith, the Sith that defied emperors and dark councils. The one that never knelled for he would not put himself beneath anyone. He who challenged their authorities and right to rule. He who would watch their empire turn to ash and another rise in its place just the same as the last. The Rebel Sith forgotten but far from dead.

"Is that name suppose to mean something?" The guard asked him pointedly as anyone could claim a Darth title far fewer actually earned it. The six foot two, Blade Ice looked at the guard with his burning orange eyes and smiled. "Not anymore, it's just a name and title. But I have no weapons, no means of war on me and the sith are gathering so I figured I would come see what all the fuss is about. So, are you going to let me in or am I going to have to do this the old fashion way?"

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Empyrean's eyes were omniscient - they saw everything around him, could see every detail from every angle if he so chose, so nothing escaped his senses. The faces twisting in disgust, some in fear, others in glorious retribution knowing their time to be rewarded had come for years of loyal service. The Emperor looked at them all, from Alina Tremiru to the vessel mismatched with its new owner - Darth Metus . He didn't expect either to actually come at his summons, but it did the Order good to know they watched it all begin. It was Alina who spoke first;​

​

"We strike for the Rimward Trade League. Worlds between us have turned to them for security from our warlords fleets, leading to more than a few disasterous ambushes along the hyperlane. Some tithe from the Holy Worlds has even been claimed in their privateering.", he said with a scowl.​

​

"All the worlds who looked to them for protection fall. When they surrender themselves to our superiority, we move on the League - let them understand the cost of standing against the Sith.", he mused.​

​

"But for the worlds we conquer, and the men we do not slay, they must be led - and they will be led by you. Laws will need to be made, promises made and kept, and all of these things I will surrender to the right of the estates. Let them rule what I have conquered - let strength continue to guide us.", he said with a flat expression, never betraying a smile that the living man would have done with ease.​

​

"Come soon, the fate of the Tsis'kaar will be left in your hands. Their spy networks, government mandated guilds, and the Inquisition itself will be divied and split under my authority, but your directive. Many of you will bandy for position, some may offer their support for the Snake Heirs, Darth Strosius and Darth Malum of House Marr - but I encourage you all to begin a duel of words and deals..."​

 

[Darth Caedes]

<< A leader who incessantly declares dominance is little more than a slave to insecurity. True power emanates silently. >>
—Darth Caedes, ruminations...
​

• Objective I — New World Order​
• Sith Assembly ​
• Tags— Madrona A’Mia | Elmindra Xitaar ​

Darth Caedes led the way for his associates, weaving through corridors and places of power as if he were familiar with these halls. Behind him, trailing in his wake and attended by their selected servants, the Lords of Korriban followed.

Presently, he slid into the pod's uncomfortable seating and keyed its controls in order to erect the simplistic privacy shielding entitled to every attendee currently gathered. Already, the Emperor's tyranny echoed across the chambers in a voice like daggers, grating at his nerves. For now, he thought to himself with a frown, let the Lords of Korriban speak on their planet's behalf.​