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Invasion Fade To Black | GE Invasion of GA Held Arkania, Champala, & Ord Lithone



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Site Administrator: John Locke John Locke


In the wake of their reclamation of the Deep Core and IMPERIAL CENTER, the GALACTIC EMPIRE surges forward once more. Now, the Empire's gaze turns outward, toward the vulnerable edges of GALACTIC ALLIANCE space. ARKANIA, a world of cold intellect and genetic tampering. CHAMPALA, a bastion of diplomacy. ORD LITHONE, a quiet outpost whose silence now invites the storm.

Each system holds a vital raw material for the Emperor's newest weapon, the procurement of these systems would not only help consolidate the Empire's hold over the Core Worlds, but also accelerate the completion of the secretive PROJECT: STARDUST.

This is no simple offensive, it is the next phase of a war for the galaxy, where its denizens once thought themselves safe from the horrors of the past. The age of freedom is over.

The Imperial Era has returned.






Approved Allies:





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The Empire launches a brutal ground assault on Arkania's frozen plains, where trenches, turrets, and shield generators form the Alliance's last line of defense before the capital city falls. From orbit, Imperial Star Destroyers hang in orbit like pendulums, while waves of AT-ATs, snowtroopers, and assault craft are deployed, thundering across the tundra. The Galactic Alliance soldiers, dug in and entrenched, must hold the line and protect the planetary shield generator.

While the battle rages, deep within the ice fields, Imperial Reclamation Service agents and members of the Dark Side Elite search for Veeshas Tuwan, the long-lost Sith library-temple believed buried beneath the glacial crust. The Emperor has decreed its secrets must be unearthed as well as it's hidden Kyber. Time is short. The battle above and the hunt below may yet decide the fate of Arkania.




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As battles ignite across the Outer Core, Imperial diplomats arrive at the newly reconvened Galactic Senate on Fondor under the pretense of negotiating. Armed not with blasters but terms of surrender, the Empire seeks to pressure neutral worlds and undermine the legitimacy of the war-torn Galactic Alliance from within. Will some sort of accord be reached, can a ceasefire be attained? Or is there no hope of peace in this growing feud between factions.

In the heart of the Senate Chamber, tense negotiations, subtext-laden speeches, and political subterfuge unfold between GA senators and the Imperial representatives of the Emperor.






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The Baktoid Armor Workshops on Ord Lithone, decommissioned once again in the aftermath of the Core Wars, lie dormant, but not forgotten. Now, Imperial Intelligence has arrived under cover of darkness to recover experimental prototypes, classified schematics, and next-gen droid technologies left behind after the last campaign. Some say even files that could accelerate their mysterious Project: Stardust.

But they are not alone. The Strategic Intelligence Agency (SIA) of the Galactic Alliance has tracked the Imperial operatives to the planet and moves to intercept, eliminate, and secure the facility.

 
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Information and Tag
Shadow Lord, Prince of Nightmare, Dream Lord
"Galactic Basic" | <"Mandalorian"> | ["Úr-kittat"] | ~"Telepathic" communication ~ | << comm. channel >>

Objective: Find the Veeshas Tuwan, Sith library-temple
Location: Ground, Arkania
Equipment: Armour | Sword || OPBC-01m
Allies: Kaleb Sunwalker Kaleb Sunwalker | Orran Orran | Talon Draven Talon Draven | Prowler II Prowler II | Thomas Barran Thomas Barran | Khronas Khronas | Cesare Demici Cesare Demici | Flannigan Tagge Flannigan Tagge | Open
Enemy: Corazona von Ascania Corazona von Ascania | Closed

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The war raged on. Another planet was about to fall, and Voldran’s mood had grown darker still, his sorrow deeper, as each of his escape attempts had ended in failure. Now he found himself on Arkania; a world that should, in part, have been his home. After all, his father had been a pure-blooded Arkanian, his mother an Arkanian-offshoot with valkyri ancestry. And yet, he had never set foot here before.

Since the Dark Side Elite had been assigned a task that was not explicitly combat-related, Voldran hoped he might avoid any interaction with the enemy faction this time.

The Galactic Alliance was not, strictly speaking, his enemy. He simply did not care whether they existed or not. He disliked Jedi, of course, but that was true of all Force users, including Sith and even the Dark Side Elite themselves. Still, there was something about this mission that stirred a faint spark of hope within him. Their goal was to hunt for Sith relics; and the half-blood had reason to hope he might find something that could grant him redemption. Perhaps here, he might discover a way to shatter the Sith runes his mother had burned into his very soul; the chains and strings that bound him. Perhaps something awaited him here.

He hoped that the fighting on the planet’s icy surface would keep everyone distracted long enough for his team to reach the temple-library. Even if no relics awaited him there, perhaps books or holocrons would, and within them, some fragment of knowledge that could set him free. This was, perhaps, the only reason he had not resisted more forcefully. Oh, he had tried to object, of course, appearances had to be maintained, so that no one suspected his true intent.

In time, the dropship they were riding left the battlefield, where troops fought amid snow and ice, and carried him, and presumably those accompanying him to a more remote location. According to historical records and satellite imagery, this was the closest known entrance to the temple-library.

"All right, ladies and gentlemen… if the intel is correct, we’re right above the entrance, hidden beneath the ice. First, we’ll need to find a way in; not everyone here has teleportation abilities or the skill to open rifts, and we’ve got non-Force users with us as well. Let’s carve a path to the temple and work the same way we did on Coruscant. United, our strength will see us through, and we will win again, achieving our goals." he told his companions, his tone - as always - polite yet firm.

He hated having to speak such words. He wanted nothing more than to see every empire and state crumble, and the Force itself destroyed. Yet, just as before, he had little choice. He would do as he was ordered, ensure they reached the temple-library, and secure everything they could from within.

But beneath it all, one truth kept him moving: perhaps, one day, he would be free, and the chains would finally fall away.

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Information and Tags
HPI Representative, Netherworld Crime Boss, Prince of Blood, Crime Lord of Sanctuary
"Galactic Common" | <"High Nelvaanian"> | << comm. channel >>

Objective: Deal with the Galactic Alliance
Location: Senate Building, Fondor
Equipment: White Attire | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit || OPBC-01m
Tags: Open

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Runar had once again been given a mission. The man had previously been sent to the Dark Empire to represent the HPI Consortium, but after the collapse of that first empire, he had returned to the Netherworld to continue his work and responsibilities there. After all, the former Sephi - now a high-blood Sangnir - had his own underworld organization in that shadowed realm. Some sought success among the living; others, among the dead. Both worlds had their own captivating traits and advantages; or so Runar believed.

After the Galactic Empire emerged, Runar had returned to its ranks even before the invasion of Coruscant. He had assured the Emperor and the Empire that the HPI Consortium would, in secret, continue to support the Galactic Empire, much like it had done during the days of the Dark Empire. When Solipsis vanished, and Sularen - along with that Sith - tried to seize control, the HPI had withdrawn its support from the so-called "Empire Reborn." They had no interest in doing business with traitors, especially not under such circumstances. In hindsight, it seemed that decision had been a wise one.

For it meant that Runar could return to the fold of the new Empire, that the HPI could negotiate yet another lucrative deal, and that a member of the L’lerim family had secured an even higher position than before. From this perspective, Runar was quite satisfied. And that’s without even mentioning the fact that he had finally been given a task that truly suited him. A diplomatic mission; a task where he could finally make use of his voice. After all, the centuries-old Sangnir was no warrior; he fought with words, and in that art, he excelled.

So he, too, joined the current imperial delegation en route to Fondor; a visit of diplomacy, meant to establish contact with the Galactic Alliance. The man found it all rather entertaining, especially since he already knew what was going to be offered to the Alliance. And in his view, their adversaries were not yet desperate enough to accept the deal. Still, for Runar, it would be amusing enough just to watch how much the Galactic Alliance squirmed under the pressure of those terms.

When they arrived at the senate complex, Runar followed the others, those who led the delegation, all the way into the senate chamber, or whatever room had been designated for the negotiations. As he entered, a brief thought crossed his mind; a famous quote he had once heard, spoken by a Jedi during the Clone Wars…

This is where the fun begins… – Anakin Skywalker​

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Arkania,
Gunship Deployment –
Death Trooper Squad "Vanta Six"
Operatives: , DT-1966, DT-7747, DT-1966




Sid walked along the length of the gunship, screaming across the terrain, frozen as it was. His suit of armor protected him from the cold- much like his compatriots. He walked along his squad, heavy boots thudding along the gunship's deck. Through the lulling noise of the engines and repulsors, he was stalwart, he was awake. He walked along, waking, kicking troopers awake. Tapping those that needed to.

He turned his head towards the Deathtroopers in the Gunship, flown by an absolute madman of a pilot.

"͓̽CHECK GEAR.͓̽"̽

His voice was distorted by his helmet, encoded and scrambled. To the other Troopers, it was clear as day- but to the Pilots and others, it was a terrifying screeching sound, like metal dragging on asphalt. He turned his head again, looking towards a Hologram. They were close.

"̷S̷T̷A̷N̷D̷ ̷U̷P̷.̷"̷

His command was simple, to the point, and directed to the best of the Empire.

"͓̽P͓̽R͓̽E͓̽P͓̽A͓̽R͓̽E͓̽ ͓̽T͓̽O͓̽ ͓̽D͓̽R͓̽O͓̽P͓̽.͓̽ ͓̽H͓̽O͓̽T͓̽ ͓̽D͓̽R͓̽O͓̽P͓̽,͓̽ ͓̽H͓̽O͓̽T͓̽ ͓̽D͓̽R͓̽O͓̽P͓̽.͓̽ ͓̽N͓̽O͓̽ ͓̽M͓̽E͓̽R͓̽C͓̽Y͓̽ ͓̽A͓̽N͓̽D͓̽ ͓̽N͓̽O͓̽ ͓̽P͓̽R͓̽I͓̽S͓̽O͓̽N͓̽E͓̽R͓̽S͓̽.͓̽ ͓̽P͓̽R͓̽O͓̽T͓̽E͓̽C͓̽T͓̽ ͓̽E͓̽A͓̽C͓̽H͓̽ ͓̽O͓̽T͓̽H͓̽E͓̽R͓̽.͓̽ ͓̽P͓̽R͓̽O͓̽T͓̽E͓̽C͓̽T͓̽ ͓̽T͓̽H͓̽E͓̽ ͓̽T͓̽R͓̽O͓̽O͓̽P͓̽E͓̽R͓̽S͓̽.͓̽ ͓̽K͓̽I͓̽L͓̽L͓̽ ͓̽T͓̽H͓̽E͓̽M͓̽ ͓̽A͓̽L͓̽L͓̽.͓̽"͓̽

He racked the cartridge into his E-11, having not had the rifle in a hot condition prior to the drop zone. The LZ was close, and they were going in first to ensure that the Empire achieved victory over the defenders. There was simply no other option. They were the best. And it was time to prove it.

Again.


 


ARKANIA OBJECTIVE 1




[ CORE POWER ] .......... 100% | NOMINAL
[ REACTOR OUTPUT ] ...... 100% | OPTIMAL
[ SHIELDING INTEGRITY ] . 100% | STABLE
[ ARMOR CONDITION ] ..... 100% | INTACT

[ PRIMARY WEAPONS ] ..... 100% | ARMED
[ SECONDARY SYSTEMS ] ... 100% | ONLINE
[ TARGETING SUITE ] ..... 100% | CALIBRATED

[ MOBILITY SYSTEMS ] .... 100% | GREEN
[ THRUSTER STATUS ] ..... 100% | STANDBY
[ GYRO CONTROL ] ........ 100% | STABLE

[ SENSOR ARRAY ] ........ 100% | ACTIVE
[ COMMUNICATIONS ] ...... 100% | CLEAR
[ FORCE AMPLIFIERS ] .... 100% | SYNCHRONIZED


ALL SYSTEMS — OPERATIONAL


"This is Jedi Dynas—approaching the battlefield."

The voice cut clean through the Alliance comms, calm but resolute.

It was rare for a comet to grace the skies above Arkania's frozen plains. Rarer still for one to blaze through in broad daylight, streaking a brilliant blue across the ice. Yet there it was—moving with purpose, a beacon tearing low over the tundra.

The azure comet was no celestial body. It was Epyon. Dynas commanded his chassis with precision, the frame aglow with blue light as it descended to hover over the battlefield. One palm lifted, revealing an emitter now building to a dangerous radiance—its target, the spindly leg of an AT-AT lumbering toward the Alliance lines.

Most lightsabers drew power from a single kyber crystal and a small energy cell. Dynas was something else entirely—a lattice of six Force-attuned crystals driven by a hypermatter reactor. What burst from his palm was no mere imitation of a saber's blade.

The beam carved the air itself, liquefying durasteel the instant it touched. The AT-AT's leg gave way in molten ruin, the walker collapsing into the snow with a seismic crash. Before the enemy gunners could respond, Epyon shot forward, deflector shields flaring as Dynas streaked toward the Alliance fortifications.

He came to a halt above the foremost trench, a hovering sentinel of light and steel.

"So long as I stand," his voice carried over comms and through the icy air, "the light will not fall."

Chassis:
DY-01 "Epyon"
Crystal Lattice: 1x Windu's Guile 1x Amplification Crystal 1x Lorridian Gemstone 1x Opila Crystal 1x Dragite Crystal 1x Mestare Crystal

@OPEN

 

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[Objective 1: Fire & Ice]
Equipment: Dual Blaster Pistols, Forcepike, Cycler Rifle, Rocket Boots, Rebreather + Tubes, Misc.
TAGS: Sharad Dhavale Sharad Dhavale , OPEN


Trench warfare? Talk about being out of your element. Not to mention it's freezing out here...

Currently stationed on the left-most flank of the entrenched positions, Gavin was currently looking through a pair of macrobinoculars, watching as transports of the Empire had started descending towards a particular point, likely their LZ. Blaster fire had already started long ago, with the Alliance trying to shoot down hostile transports as they had approached. They were probably able to get a few, but there was no way in hell were they getting all of them. And there were a lot.

Standing next to one of their turrets as it was blasting away at the approaching crafts, he took a moment to glance around. It had been a while since he found himself in an outright battle. Two militaries throwing whatever they had at each other. While conventional military warfare was nowhere near his specialty, as he's normally capturing bounties, the few extra guns and thermodetonators he was able to provide by being here couldn't hurt. After hearing Dynamis "Dynas" Ultra Dynamis "Dynas" Ultra speak on the comms, before watching the metal being get to work early, he took a moment to adjust his rebreather, hunching down next to the stationed troops that were next to him.


"Here they come, boys. Let's show 'em what we can do."

If nothing else, he was just glad he was actually here this time. Having missed the invasions on the Core, he made sure to attend whatever the next big battle happened to be. And it happened to be this one. Though, while he probably shouldn't be glad that there's any fighting happening at all, it's always going to be an unavoidable reality. And if that's the case, he might as well be there.

Guns blazing.

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TAGS
Friend:
Voldran Molf Voldran Molf Artam Macek Artam Macek
Foe: Dynamis "Dynas" Ultra Dynamis "Dynas" Ultra Gavin Restur Gavin Restur


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FADE TO BLACK - PART ONE


ABOARD THE MV: HEART OF MAR'ZAMBUL,
ARKANIA, GALACTIC CORE COLONIES (903 ABY)


'Glare, we got eyes on the GADF frontier yet?'
'We do, Great Khan.... Coming up on the main Holoplinth now.'
'Alright, lets see what we're lookin' at here.... Interesting.... Oh! Aht's a throwback, so it is!'

Reminiscent of a clash he studied well in his earlier post-resurrection years, the Bloodhound could not help but ponder on the GADF battlefront's similarity to the one IMPAF set on Csilla, as if the Arkanian trenchlines resembled their predecessors with textbook levels of replication. There were more frozen planets than Csilla to consider, and more-sepcifically, on the worlds where trenches were built with the same reason in mind; built as much by the Mawsworn as they had been by their adversaries along the way, everything expected of their interlinking networks would be seen as the camera-droids scanned back and forth, a remarkable showing of inspired, formidable ingenuity.

'So where's the 1st Auxilia? I'm seeing plenty movement spilling out from Point Aurek there, but its all Imperial.'
'They're cresting the Luron Ridge in the south-east, Great Khan.... Seems they don't want to be seen yet.'

'No-no, thats actually a good thing. Rook's staying on-task after all.', the Khan corrected, pointing toward the descending parts of their approach, then leaving markers on the expected headings from there. Saying nothing as he continued, drawing the pathways for the Imperial advances on a layer beneath that of the Mawite-orange markers, it was only then that Barran continued,'Heavy-support doctrine is always more viable with fewer casualties, an' with room for early static-line pivots.... I think it best for everyone if we honour the Darkhan's operational autonomy.', before returning to his place at the bridge's helm.

'Send 'em down some War-Skiffs, that should help 'em keep a supply-line running.... Wait a minute, check orbit for me, please.'
'Gunship in proximity is marked Imperial, Great Khan.'
'Patch me through.'

<"Shadow-Four, this is Bloodhound Khan. Granting you permission to board for rearming and repairs, good luck over there.">


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AUXILIA
I



SUMMIT OF LITTLE MAHAR, LURON RIDGE,
ARKANIA, GALACTIC CORE COLONIES (903 ABY)


'You ready, Ulusar?'
'Ummm.... I don't even know.'
'Huh?! The feth even happened here anyways?

The one who was becoming a rogue Arkanian (in real-time, for every second he spent on his homeworld that day) had history, jaded history on the planet of his ancestors, and when the Mirialan looked into the glowing-white irises of the Archon-Elect, he realised there was more to the blacksite escapees he directed to the Mawsworn LZ. It was obvious to Gorm that there were untold truths about the Veeshas Tuwan battlefront in general, though there was something else behind the eyes of his Warchief, something ultimately silenced within for the sake of escaping the dangers of personal involvement.

Rook Darkhan was deeply affected by the impromptu return to Arkania, but as for what happened in his years prior to Mawsworn devotion, it appeared he was nearing too close to catatonic stupor to state what he suffered at the hands of his own people. The only guarantee they had of his effectiveness was in the hatred of his northward glances over the horizon, baleful glares his eyes had directed specifically toward Veeshas Tuwan's outskirts, but in that was also something quite telling of the Darkhan's untold past, a matter into which both the Mastiff and Gorm would pry before the day was done.


'Alright, lets move! We follow the trail down from here.'


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Objective: 1
Location: SKY ABOVE BATTLEFIELD
Tags: Open l Thomas Barran Thomas Barran l GE Forces



His Gunship was looming over the Battlefield, encircling it, like a hawk waiting to strike on rabbits. He circled a few times, his pattern irregular and so far- not facing an anti-aircraft batteries or enemy fighters.

Yet.

His IFF and friendly unit tracker popped up. He was being pinged.

<"Shadow-Four, this is Bloodhound Khan. Granting you permission to board for rearming and repairs, good luck over there.">

He smirked and sent an affirmative chirp back over the comms. The Alliance lines were in view, though, not being targeted yet. He'd lie in wait for the moment, staying out of scanner range. He'd wait until the enemy was attacked before making his initial attack run. The AT-ATs and other walkers and Stormtrooper assault was coming- and loose exchange of fire, marked by streaks of blue, red, and green blaster fire. Above them, however, the Empire began to slowly descend...

His gunship went lower, his nose going forward and down. He came low, fast- and came at an attack axis roughly fifty feet above the enemy's initial trench line. His guns went first- a few missiles going here and there. Defenders went wide and far, a cruel end before the battle truly began. He banked his gunship back towards the safety and protection of Imperial lines- and was aiming for another, deadlier run.

There was only death waiting for the Alliance.

There was no victory to be had for them here.

There was only death.


 


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TAGS: Open

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Dangal stood near the dropship's forward hatch, the muted whine of the engines vibrating through the deck plates beneath his boots. Beyond the narrow viewport, Arkania's frozen wastes stretched in all directions, windswept plains of jagged ice and powdery snow, the kind of cold that seeped into armor joints and gnawed at flesh through even the warmest underlayers. He tightened his cloak against the gusts bleeding in through the hatch's imperfect seal. He dismounted near the temple in a effort to set up a perimeter.

The low thrum of distant bombardment rolled through the frozen ground, each muffled impact sending small ripples across the icy ridges. Dangal moved with measured strides, his cloak trailing in the wind like a shadow pulled across the snow. The sky above Arkania was fractured with streaks of red and green blaster fire arcing between the Galactic Alliance forces and the Sith invaders, while the occasional howl of a starfighter screamed overhead.

He knew of the Galactic Empires 's main goal. Sith relics. A buried temple library. History frozen beneath centuries of ice. Yet, to him, this was more than another assignment. His gaze drifted to the soldiers and operatives disembarking in staggered groups, their breath steaming, their gear clinking softly. Some checked weapons, others planted portable shields in a defensive ring around the drop zone.

Breath fogged in steady bursts from behind the fur-lined collar of his coat. Beneath the layers, his lightsaber forged long ago in the icy caverns of Ilum hung heavy against his side, the songsteel hilt cold to the touch even through the fabric. He found it fitting that his first true test in months would be here, on another frozen world. History, it seemed, enjoyed circling back on itself.

"We'll be the first line if anything follows us here… best not to leave our backs bare" he thought. "Whatever waits beneath this ice… I hope it's worth the cost we're about to pay."

For now, there was nothing to do but oversee the perimeter, and hold as the rest of their forces brace themselves for this assault. His gaze drifted eastward, toward the horizon where the snowstorm was thickest. Somewhere beyond that wall of white, Imperial walkers would be advancing. Somewhere in the ice, the Dark Side Elite were already advancing toward them.




 
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Major Tiberius Zaarin
Point Aurek, Arkania

Kroeger Kroeger



The grinding whine of walker servos echoed across the white expanse. Through the forward viewport of his AT-AT's command pod, Major Tiberius Zaarin watched the first column of Imperial armor trudge down the landing ramps, each footfall punching deep craters into the snow. Above, the shuttles and drop transports of the Empire cut through the overcast skies in neat, disciplined vectors, scattering powdered snow into swirling plumes. The AT-AT's shadow stretched long over the tundra, swallowed in the veil of frost and drifting ice kicked up by the descending landing crafts.

"Point Aurek secure," a voice crackled over comms, the cold static carrying the words like brittle glass.

Zaarin didn't answer right away. His eyes tracked the valley's horizon, where the jagged mountain ranges loomed like serrated walls of ice. Beyond, Fort Tagge's planetary shield generator kept the Alliance and Arkania safe.

For now.

The first walkers pressed forward in perfect formation, their long necks swaying slightly with each ponderous step. Troop hatches yawned open, spilling ranks of white-armored stormtroopers into the knee deep snow. Speeder bike crews gunned their engines, the shrill whine cutting through the wind as scouts fanned out to probe the enemy's outer defenses. A thin smile ghosted Zaarin's lips.

"Tell armor command to maintain dustfall pace," he said, his voice low, almost calm. "I want them to see us coming."

The glint of distant fortifications shimmered faintly through the haze. In the far off trenches, no doubt, Alliance troops were already watching them make landfall. Zaarin leaned forward, resting gloved hands on the tactical display as the AT-AT's head swiveled in the direction of the Alliance fortifications.

The mission was simple, destroy the shield generator and wipe out all resistance, doing so would ensure a swift occupation of the Arkanian capital.

"Moving into position."



 

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Objective: Fire & Ice
The Empire had come to Arkania. In the days that followed the Fall of the Core, the Alliance fractured, and like a predator seizing the moment, the newly formed Galactic Empire was on a new offensive. The Jedi and Alliance defenders had dug themselves in, networks of trenches, pillboxes, and emplacements that were ready to hold out in defiance. They would die here, the fort would fall, their blood would freeze in the snow, and they would be buried and forgotten by time.

He felt no triumph in it. The Schism Eternal did not allow for such things. One order died, another rose, and the hollow cycle continued, indifferent to the graves it left in its wake. These men and women were merely the latest offering to that endless cycle of history.

Yet the battle was not his true purpose. Beneath the ice was a temple-library lost to time and history. Veeshas Tuwan. While the surface burned and bled, the Imperial Reclamation Service was already drilling and setting up tunnels to find the lost temple. Apophion's shuttle arrived after the work had already started. Soon, he would descend into the ice and see what the Sith Empire had left behind.

The Sith Lord's cape fluttered in the wind as he exited the transport. Wasting no time, he found a Reclamation Service Officer.

"How long till we begin our descent?"

The officer looked at him and hesitated for a moment. "As soon as the other members of the Dark Side Elite have gathered and are ready to move out, my Lord."

Apophion looked at the man for a moment, then his gaze shifted to the Alliance positions as the battle unfolded. "Just be sure we secure the temple before the Jedi arrive."

The snow would drink the blood of thousands before the day was over, but below, in the silence beneath the ice, the true conquest would be written.

 



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E Y E S__O F__T H E__E M P I R E
Reiner Ghadi Reiner Ghadi , Ellayina L'lerim Ellayina L'lerim , Colm Noda Colm Noda , Ines Pen-Ar-Lan Ines Pen-Ar-Lan , @Imperial Intelligence






The cavernous interior of the Baktoid factory echoed with the faint hum of dormant assembly lines. Steam hissed from ruptured vents, the smell of coolant and scorched metal hung thick in the air, this did not deter the Imperial spy who moved through shadow and speech. Today, his boots were on the ground, conducting field work on Ord Lithone where several prototype designs were being stored. Several ISB and OIT agents were spread out across the facility like hunting hounds, each combing through their assigned sectors for anything of value.

A low flicker from a half-functional terminal caught his eye. He approached, hands gloved, and tapped into the encrypted Baktoid schematics. Holographic projections shimmered to life, sleek, angular droid frames, towering war machines bristling with integrated weaponry, and a partially redacted production schematic marked TOP SECRET.

His commlink crackled.

"Ralen, Section C-7 is secured. Found a digital vault, triple firewall, but we're working on it."

He responded quietly, eyes still on the glowing schematics.

"Prioritize anything marked for accelerated assembly."

Zuv began copying data to a secure drive, glancing over his shoulder at the other agents rifling through drawers, prying open databanks, and pulling memory cores from dormant droid brains. Unknowingly to him, if they succeeded tonight, Project: STARDUST would be one more step toward completion.





 



JACEN

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SHIP
Enemies: Skye Mertaal Skye Mertaal Voldran Molf Voldran Molf

He hated flying. Jacen had never been a skilled pilot and if anything his skills had atrophied during his exile on Tattoine. He had been one of the members to form the original Alliance to resist the One Sith. When it had collapsed, world weary, he had gone into hiding.

Jacen had been one of the most powerful Jedi Masters in the old Alliance, but he had sworn to retire from the field. Despite his family line originating on Tattoine most of his family had moved to Coruscant. The fall of his home to the empire was the motivation he needed to dig up his lightsaber and set out.

Red bolts flashed past the canopy of his ship. One of the assault transports had taken a pot shot at him.

Jacen dropped lower and turned to the south. He was still some distance from the imperial ground forces.

He could sense the dark side moving around the field of battle. Jacen stretched out his senses and turned his ship towards the mountains.

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AD_4nXf-nyeFXMu9vbEHFXVlDGPyGCeLdQfS6rsqMAjoQ14jFD7Gv3r6Vads3vs1tPspzEkRoFypskpm3MF_XWMq86t6TFpc0qKlHjXc2O34T_5SDXtPtYMr3lMxXG95i3imkcE-PIHHmA

//: Dynamis "Dynas" Ultra Dynamis "Dynas" Ultra //:
//: Arkania //:
//: Attire //:
//: WEARING: GAHA-32 Lionheart Commando Armor| Contact Lenses| M.I. 'Halo' jump boots //:
//: EQUIPMENT: GABB-15 Talon II | M.I. Model 6 hybrid pistol | Shiva Knife //:
//: ADDITIONAL EQUIPMENT: Taozin amulet | 1 x Arrow head of Absence | LK Spider Slicer Droid | Navi/Barca//:
//: Objective I - Fire & Ice //:
//: Bounty Hunting //:
AD_4nXfxRgcX_ZR8-kC0rqm7lvSG8EOJOSL940dsU7OVzeVmup3dGax4Cdo-X1Ai2HPzuUrh9Y6hDIM-xiR_v30pnSC7pOoluQWUtgV0MzONnAotvKrplxED5btOvA5RLfqXgxU4NZXdDA


CT-312 hadn’t expected to be back in the Galactic Alliance space so soon. But here she was… back in the cold. Back in a warzone. The Galactic Alliance and the Galactic Empire were at it again.

At least the Scout still had the issued Lionheart Commando Armor from her brief stint with the GA. Along with a handful of their standard weapons. The GABB-15 Talon II hung in her hands. Not CT-312’s preferred tool, but enough to sell the part of being one of the Troopers here. The rest of her gear was her own. Discreet and reliable. If things went sideways, it was far more useful than the standard-issue. Her HUD flickered with an incoming contract.

<:// BOUNTY NOTICE //:>
<:// Bounty Hunter ID: CT-312 //:>
<:// Location: Arkania //:>
<:// Client: Jerec Asyr Jerec Asyr //:>
<:// Target: Dynamis "Dynas" Ultra Dynamis "Dynas" Ultra //:>
<:// Jedi Knight or Master. Avoid detection. Build a detailed record. Actions, travel, contacts, kills. Capture images, footage, sensor data, physical evidence, fingerprints, DNA, transit receipts, interactions. //:>


Her target. A Jedi Master.

Force Users. Gloved fingers brushed the Taozin amulet beneath the armor. A quiet insurance policy against being sniffed out by the Force. Delsin Shaw Delsin Shaw 's words echoed in CT-312’s mind about the amulet’s effect.

CT-312 was crouched in one of the Alliance trenches. Surrounded by the GADF. Her comms stayed tuned to their channel. Her body language matching theirs perfectly. Waiting. As preparations around her were being done, a voice cut through the channel.

"This is Jedi Dynas—approaching the battlefield."

Perfect.

Barca.” The Scout murmured through the helmet’s vocoder. “Register Jedi Dynas’s signature in the systems. Begin auto-record. Images, audio, all of it.” A confirming chirp sounded in her ear.

Through the swirl of snow, CT-312 caught movement in the sky. Looking up. A searing blue streak began to cut low over the frozen tundra. It looked as if it was a comet. Her visor zoomed in. Not even close. A sleek combat chassis with blue light spilling from its frame. Eyes tracking this droid like being as it lifted one palm. An emitter flared, unleashing a beam like saber that sliced through an AT-AT’s leg. The walker crumbled into the snow in a thunderous crash. Snow kicking in waves.

CT-312 moved through the trenches. Pushing past the GADF troops as Alliance and Empire gunships screamed overhead. Every so often she popped up. Firing a few blaster bolts towards the Galactic Imperial lines. Enough to keep appearances intact.

Soldiers scrambled to adjust positions. CT-312 kept moving towards Dynas’s signature, until she reached the foremost trench. Close enough to see the Jedi’s machine hovering above them. A closer look at its metallic chassis. Deflector shields glowing.

"So long as I stand," his voice carried over comms and through the icy air, "the light will not fall."

Aiming the rifle outward. CT-312 fired another burst of cover fire into the snowfield. Stepping back. Her visor tilted toward the Jedi Master. Tracking him through her HUD’s feed. Dropping into a crouch beneath the trench lip, as if reloading. Her helmet lenses fixed on her mark.

 



The young Sith's jaw tightened as the matte obsidian hull of his Bevelle-Class Freighter emerged from the cloak of hyperspace.

As always, the vastness of space stretched endlessly, a beautiful sight to behold, steadying him. He also noted the Star Destroyers circling like predators over weakened prey.

Shields ignited, surrounding the freighter with a protective glow as the descent began. Even then, there was crackling and pops as it battled against turbulence of the planet's atmosphere. Intense G-forces pressed against Lysander's body, holding him captive in the pilot seat.

Still, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, a nod to the two pilots who had taught him everything he knew: Naamino Zuukamano Naamino Zuukamano and Haro Aven Haro Aven .

Through the viewport, an icy tundra was revealed, an expanse of frozen death.

But his emerald gaze, colder than the world beneath him, flicked back to the controls. The Navicomputer's displays danced with a symphony of beeps and flickering lights, while a nearby scanner painted thermal signatures like ghosts. And then he saw it: the early signs of a battle already underway. However, Lysander was prepared, his carefully crafted strategy unfolding as he chose an insertion point approximately one and a half clicks away from Fort Tagge.

This balance was precarious indeed, needing to remain far enough away to avoid the battlefield, but close enough to reply quickly under any Galactic Empire’s orbital scans.

In truth, the Empire's values, whether cruel or not, were not foreign or entirely unwelcome to him. Perhaps, that was why he felt a detached indifference towards their continued grip on the Galactic Alliance's neck.

The freighter neared a jagged mountain range, where long shadows stretched across the icy fields. Landing struts were deployed with a mechanical thud, and the ship was settled on the surface.

A secondary screen glowed faintly, a reminder of his mission.



— Extract Arkanian scientists (ALIVE)
— Secure genetic/cloning research data (INTACT)
— Client: Darth Anathemous, Governor of Echnos

Time was of the essence, and hesitation would certainly mean failure. Lysander knew he needed to move quickly, aware that all resistance would most likely be crushed like vermin in just a few short hours.

The ship's hatch opened. Clad in the Sith Trooper armor that had been issued to him on Korriban, he finally stepped out onto the barren wasteland. His Force signature was suppressed, becoming one with the shadows, as he pressed forward, prepared to perform upon the foreign stage set before him.
 
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Objective I: Fire & Ice
The Imperial Curator vol. 1
Issue #2: Battle for Arkania w/


Cold....Immense Cold...Considerable Cold..

The frigid atmosphere of Arkania's frozen plains was in his mind a dreadful choice for a ground assault as the cold alone made operating anything machinery a nightmare. From his protected perch within a glacial crevasse, he watched the distant lumbering forms of AT-AT's stomp their way towards the Alliance's front lines.

The rhythmic booms of their cannons felt less like a battle hymn and more like a headache. "Honestly," he muttered to his small team of Reclamation agents, his voice a crisp, upper-class Imperial whisper that cut through the howling wind.

"They could have at least invaded a resort world. The logistics would have been a nightmare, of course, but think of the aesthetic. All this grey snow and ice is terribly uncivilized." He ran a gloved finger along a thermal scanner, ignoring the chaos above. The Imperial military was a blunt instrument, and this entire, messy affair was just the brute-force distraction needed for his true purpose.

Their mission, handed down from the Emperor himself, was a quest for true historical significance, not just a tactical victory. They were hunting for Veeshas Tuwan, the mythical Sith library-temple, and its rumored cache of kyber crystals, all believed to be buried deep beneath the ice.

"The soldiers can have their trenches and their turrets," he announced, gesturing vaguely towards the surface. "We are here for the real prize. The kyber will be the key to our search. I trust we are all in agreement that an artifact of immense power and historical import is far more interesting than a well-defended hillock?"

The agents nodded silently, accustomed to their superior's detached focus. While the battle for Arkania raged with the fury of a thousand blasters, Flannigan Tagge knew the real victory was being unearthed right here, in the cold, quiet darkness. The fate of this world, and many others, would be decided not by the clumsy boots of the military, but by the subtle work of a curator with impeccable taste and priorities.

 
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Bounty Hunter Name: Skye Mertaal
Bounty Hunter License: Link
Seeking Bounties on: x | x | x @Jacen Voidstalker
Toggle on: Verified


The Shadow Phoenix bled into the upper atmosphere without a ripple on sensors, its Stygian crystal cloak swallowing the ship's heat signature and folding it into nothing. Under her beaker helm, Skye's scarred visage bore her bright hazel eyes upon the viewport, the world below reflecting in their hard, unblinking light. No one could see the clammy sheen on her angular face, nor the tension wound tight in her jaw.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

The last of her Force suppression pills had been swallowed twenty-four hours ago, and with the Core Worlds locked in conflict, the convergence choking trade routes, and credits bleeding dry, the Witchmaster of Clan Rekali could already feel the shadowed claws of damnation testing the edges of her mind. She would not let them dig deeper.

That meant one thing - - going after bounties that could buy her time, and her sanity, in one fat payout.

The Alliance - Empire clash made the perfect smokescreen to slip through unnoticed. On the console to her right, a handful of open contracts flickered in muted gold: some whispered from the underworld, others carrying the watermark of the Shadow Brokers. All lucrative. All dangerous.
One, maybe two, were worth the risk of crossing paths with the Jedi again.

Even if she'd sworn she never would.


 
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Point Aurek - Arkania
Aboard Zaarin's AT-AT

Objective: Ride the Lightning
Each thundering footfall of the AT-AT rocked the troop compartment. Dozens of snowtroopers, strapped into their seats, were jostled around with every step the mechanical beast took. Officers went up and down the aisles, supervising the troops as they ran diagnostics, checked their weapons, told themselves it was all going to be okay.​
Meliant had no seat. He was present, but not part of this unit. The Dark Side Elite kept steady by virtue of an overhead grab-rail. When it was time to disembark and begin the bloodletting, he would notice more than a few of these lemmings die, but that would be the extent of their association. He would forget about them by the time he returned to the Sepulchure.​
Or so he thought. One of the snowtroopers was staring at him, he noticed.​
"You're one of the Emperor's hands, aren't you?" He said. It was an older voice this man had. Not a rosy conscript. "The Dark Side Elite."​
"Yes." Really? What could have given Meliant away? The black armor, the lightsabers, or the silent brooding? All three?​
The trooper made some minute adjustments to a heavy repeating blaster he'd been issued. "What's he like? The Emperor."​
Meliant felt his grip on the grab-rail tighten. "You heard his speech. The transmission that went out while Coruscant fell."​
“THE SENATE IS GONE. THE AGE OF WEAKNESS IS OVER.”

He cast his sinister gaze outward,

“SURRENDER YOUR WEAPONS. ABANDON YOUR IDOLS.”

His hands raised.

“THE ALLIANCE SYSTEMS WILL BE REORGANIZED INTO A NEW.. GALACTIC EMPIRE!!”

"I did, yeah. Everyone did."​
Another colossal footstep rattled the cabin again. Meliant paused to let it pass.​
"That's what he's like."​
"...All the time?"​
"Every waking moment."​
Meliant stretched his neck as if to limber up, but he had no muscles. It only made his armor creak. After that, the rest of their transit passed in contemplative silence.​


 


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| Location | Hirata Estate, Atrisia
| Objective | Figure out what's going on
The Hirata Estate, a nice and cozy place Pak had come to find, with both he and Jin Taeyang Jin Taeyang often frequenting the location to offload smuggled supplies. The Lightsworn had been kind to them and receptive to them being used as the duo's port of call outside of Atrisia's standard docks and checkpoints, especially given the more illicit nature of their cargo at times. He had no qualms with them or their mission, just as long as they weren't asking them to stick their necks out on the line, at least outside of what was expected within their line of work.
The Ashina Clan had reached out to the duo for some assistance, though the details of their task were left fuzzy and ambiguous; Pak figured just typical cryptic messages given that anything of importance being transmitted could easily be monitored for and intercepted. But they answered the call nonetheless. After all a job was a job.
The air seemed abuzz with something as Pak made his way through the Estate with Jin in tow close behind him, people moving with purpose back and forth. He turned to shift his body as a group rushed past them, letting them through as he glanced back at his partner,
"A lot busier than usual today... I wonder what's got everyone in a rush."

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Jin Taeyang Jin Taeyang
 

MEANWHILE....ELSEWHERE...

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|Location| Hirata Estate - Lightsworn Enclave, Atrisia
|Current Objective| Attend Lightsworn Debriefing
|Tags for Proximity| Pak Jaehyun Pak Jaehyun | Jin Taeyang Jin Taeyang

The Hirata Estate had become a dizzying nest of activity after the summons had been made for all Lightsworn Enclave aligned members. Kylass entered the estate just behind a rushing cluster of Ashina Household servants prepping the ancestral Ashina Clan Estate for the large meeting. A grim nostalgia crawled into her attention, carrying with it the unease of a familiar dread.

Long ago, in her twenties, which the shorter-lived species of the galaxy would name as young adulthood, but for the long-lived Arkanians was fresh adolescence, Kylass was just a Jedi Padawan within the Galactic Alliance Jedi Order. That day she still recalled the first naive rush of excitement and eagerness as the Jedi Council summoned the order for battle missions.

Decades later and several battles after, now fifty-four years old, the rush turned into a grave tempering; a chilled remembrance of old carnage that strangled excitement into stark focus. Luckily the spry hoots of her R9-Z9, Ninez, astromech companion snapped Kylass from her dark memories.

“It would seem so Ninez,” said Kylass, crossing her arms and strolling next to the R9 unit. “That
emergency request has reached the doors of the Ashina and their Lightsworn.”

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Kylass drew in a sharp breath and relied on the Force to calm the old scars from old foes now reborn in this new menace that shadowed the core worlds. “I can feel it, Ninez,” said Kylass, her words carried by a deep, dragging sigh. “Another era of rising Darkness heralded by Total War.” Ninez let out a protesting chirp and punctuated it with a nudging waddle that bumped into Kylass’ thigh.

Kylass grinned and nodded. “I know, I know,” said Kylass. She looked around at the gathering Lightsworn Jedi Knights and their combatant comrades in arms. “The Force does work its mysteries,” she said, returning to her forward stroll towards the epicenter of the activity.


 
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