Mission [FIRST ORDER] Eternal Eclipse

[TK-7277]

<<<TK PAGECLAIM>>>

​

FIRST ORDER

ZAKUUL | PLANET SURFACE
TAG: FT-4655
OBJECTIVE 1: CAUTERIZE

THEME MUSIC​

Then the ramp had opened.
Then they had all died.

The dropship exploded behind Sevens as he attempted to tuck and roll as he leapt from within it. He definitely rolled; he rolled down and into an artillery impact crater. Blaster fire peppered the space just above the mouth of the pit, searing the very dust particles that hung thick within the air.

<<Berek Report!>>

The first status check came in, and nothing was said in response. Sevens clambered up to a sitting position within the artillery crater, breathing deeply to steel his nerves. No amount of training prepared you for being literally thrown into the shit - but this was what he trained for. He gripped the frame of his blaster rifle, and waited a heart beat for any response from squad lead.

<<Berek Report!>>

No response came, and so TK-7277 was unsure who the hell was in charge. But that didn’t matter. His training began screaming back into his mind. If he stayed here, in this pit - he’d die; either from the enemy, or from some officer who deemed him a coward. But he couldn’t just rush headlong without some idea of what was going on.

He peered above the opening of the pit...

He could see a heavy weapons emplacement - a heavy repeater by the look of things, vomiting blue-charged fire downrange upon the wreckage of his fallen landing craft. As he peered, he glanced off to the side, and noticed too late a form running towards him.

He tried to pull his weapon around, but he was knocked backward by a tackle from the body that jumped into the trench. Muscle memory took over as Sevens released his weapon and lashed out with his hands; his left reached out and gripped the right-hand of the attacker - just as a knife was pulled and thrust down to try and impale Sevens.

His muscles tautened, and the knife remained still. The attacker - a man wearing the drab uniform of the resistance, tried to press his advantage by bringing his other hand back and applying pressure on the haft of the knife. But Sevens acted, knowing the rebel was now open to a punch to the face with Sevens’ right fist.

The armored fist crashed into the side of the resistance soldier’s head, which knocked him off into the filthy water of the crater, and bought Sevens half a second to pull his own service knife. The Stormtrooper descended upon the rebel with cold, practiced motions. The enemy soldier lashed out with the knife, but Sevens gripped his wrist with his free hand and snapped it back at an unnatural angle, his crushgaunts whining as they activated.

The soldier let out a pained shriek, and that was Sevens’ opening. He drove his own knife hilt-deep into the man’s clavicle, and in the space of a few seconds - the fight was over. Sevens knelt there, next to the man who struggled to breathe, until he no longer did...

He pulled the knife out, and cleaned it with the cloth of the dead soldier’s uniform before sheathing it, and picking up his rifle. He closed his eyes from behind his helmet, and took several deep breaths. An explosion rocked the ground nearly five meters away, casting dirt and shale into the air and against his armor. But all he heard was a high pitched noise in his ears, even though his helmet buffered against that.

There was no external reason for the effect, but there was one very real internal one.

In that moment, his psyche shifted, as if he was... alive.

As if the fear bled out from him, like the lifeblood of the soldier at his knees.

With one final breath, the noise cleared, and it was replaced by a familiar voice in his headset.

“Berek reporting. We have made landfall. Moving to establish control zone now.” He offered back down the line, before blinking to change the frequency. “Berek, indicators on me. Regroup…”

The dazed feeling was almost completely gone from his body, and TK-7277 keyed his comm open. <“Berek-actual this is Berek-7 reporting in. Heading your way asap, over.”> He checked his tactical HUD, which showed a holographic display of the battlespace, as well as the position of what team members could be found. With Berek-actual reporting in, his blip appeared on Sevens’ hud. Actual was about 12 meters away, and that E-WEB was about 20 meters in the opposite direction.

Suddenly, an idea flashed through his mind. He flicked the firing mode switch on his rifle to [BEAM], and crawled to the edge of his crater. He sighted down the barrel of his blaster, which integrated with his helmet HUD, and showed the crosshairs dancing about until it locked onto the emplacement - which was currently aimed 90-degrees to the left at the crash site, but could swivel over at any moment.

Without delay, Sevens took advantage of the moment. A three-round burst of particle-beam fire scorched through the air. One round missed high, but the second and third hit the target - causing micro-explosions as they impacted against the metallic casing of the emplacement. It would seem that for now, the emplacement would be disabled - but for how long was anyone else’s guess.

Sevens leapt out of the crater and hoofed it to Actual’s position - diving behind cover next to his squad leader just as blaster fire pinged the dirt where Sevens’ feet were mere moments ago. Seven faced his squad lead and gave him a quick nod and finger salute. “TK-7727 reporting in sir.”

​

 

[Valas Sarokhan]

Mandator IV-class Siege Dreadnought
Command Bridge
Zakuul
Vladic Drakov​

---

There was an inherent belittling that would be apparent to everyone on the bridge as the Grand Admiral addressed the Iron Hand.

Valas stiffened, his jaw set visibly at how he was being snubbed in this instance however he was no fool. The Iron Hand was arrogant, many who wielded the force were believing that their powers made them infinitely superior to those around them and functionally immortal. He had no such misconceptions.

In fact congratulations were in order. Valas had stepped into the trap that Vladic Drakov had set for him. He accepted the indignity, he had no choice but he would not forget.

Eyes left the Grand Admiral at one point to scan the Death Troopers that had intermingled throughout the bridge amongst the Officers and crew. He focused on their sidearms momentarily, Particle Blaster Rifles more powerful than conventional firearms that were used by Imperial forces. To many for him evade or deflect.

When his gaze returned to the Grand Admiral he'd have finally replied...

"It is unthinkable to question the commands of the Supreme Leader."

...this was an acceptable rhetoric, maybe the only acceptable rhetoric to do with anything regarding the Supreme Leader of the First Order. Questioning the will of the Supreme Leader was akin to signing a death warrant...

"As you say Grand Admiral, you have indulged me here today."

There was a stinging sensation that accompanied Valas requiring to concede to the Grand Admiral but at this time and in this place it could be no other way.

The Grand Admiral had read the Iron Hand well to one degree though, he was rather bloodthirsty. Other Hands had reputations as scalpals, some were assassins or specialized in covert operations, retrievals, etc but Valas was a hammer. If he was assigned at duty it was because the Black Hand, Valyra Keth wanted something or someone crushed. The Iron Hand did not have a reputation for subtlety.

Eyes flashed back to the view ports where the looked towards the celestial body that was Zakuul and he would have remarked idly, any tension in his voice drained away with a coolness...

"I look forward to seeing the master at work, Grand Admiral."

If there was one thing that the Iron Hand disliked about the Grand Admiral more than anything it was not his manner it was that he spoke to much.

 

[Athassehl Sylaar]

OBJECTIVE I - OPERATION: CAUTERIZE

Beskar Armor
Athassehl's Lightsaber

“Set up the blocking position! Let’s go!” The Zakuul sergeant barked at his troopers. Soldiers frantically set up metal barriers and turrets near the back entrance of the eternal stronghold. The sergeant squinted through the dust and explosions before grabbing his electrobinoculars. The device cleared most of the dust and debris but there were no signs of First Order troops approaching.

“Secure that flank!” The sergeant barked. “I don’t want a flea to go through this defense!”

Where were the Stormtroopers? He knew that the defenses of the stronghold were breached and his unit received orders to make sure that the southern side was secure from further attacks but there was nobody, not a soul. “Does anyone have a visual on the enemy?” The Sergeant asked.

“I see a single target to the east!” A private spoke up. “Unknown hostile!”

“What?!” The sergeant swung his electrobinoculars adjusting his settings. A lone figure draped in a hood slowly walked towards the barricaded entrance. He was huge, shoulders as broad as a Wookies and tree trunk like arms. Black and gray colors made up his armor to which the sergeant recognized as Beskar armor. Was this person a Mandalorian?

“Halt!” The sergeant shouted. “You are entering a restricted area! Come any further and we will fire upon you!”

On that statement, the soldiers ran behind the barricade, their blaster rifles trained on the lone assailant who continued to walk towards the unit.

“Open fire!” A shower of blaster bolts befell on the man. A single wave of his hand however formed a Force barrier and the blaster bolts dissipated against it.

“What?!” One of the soldiers yelled as the rest kept firing. “Our blasters have no affect on him?!”

“Is this man a Jedi?!” Another soldier asked.

“Definitely not!” The Sergeant yelled panic rising in his voice. “And he dies here!” He took out a thermal detonator throwing it in front of the hooded figures feet. The Detonator beeped before it shut down: useless.

“A dud?!” The Sergeant cried out in shock. The blaster bolts continued to pepper the barrier to no affect and the hooded man waved his hand summoning a large wave of force energy.

“Get to cover!” The sergeant yelled but it was too late. The blaster absorbed Force wave smashed against the barricade causing bodies and debris to be sent flying everywhere.

The hooded man calmly walked though the destroyed barrier and stepped over the mangled corpses, however he spotted the sergeant wounded but standing tall with a blaster pistol. “You won’t get through!” He fired multiple shots yet the hooded figure took out his Lightsaber, an orange blade emerging from the weapon and deflected the shots.

“Oh no!” The sergeant continued to fire however, the hooded figure raised his hand and the Sergeant grabbed his throat and was pulled towards the man’s blade piercing his heart.

“You’re right about one thing,” the hooded figure whispered to the dying sergeant. “I am no Jedi.”

With a single vertical stroke, the Seregeants life was burnt away and the hooded figure entered the building. “This is Athassehl Sylaar,” he spoke through the holocomms attached on his wrist. “I have entered the stronghold and will be making my way to the leaders.”

 

[Atum]

ETERNAL ECLIPSE - OPERATION: CAUTERIZE
Gravehand - Chapter 1

GEAR: Crimson Lightsaber
OBJECTIVE: Operation: Cauterize
TAG: Athassehl Sylaar | Open

VENGEANCE
​

ZAKUUL

The Spire of Eternal Morning had seen better days, and today, it saw its last.

Beneath the unnatural shroud of a once eternal empire, the golden towers of Zakuul groaned under the weight of a dying era. Atum clung to the side of a massive, gilded statue, his claws finding purchase in the intricate filigree. Below him, 8 Knights of Zakuul; relics of a fallen regime, maintained their vigil. They stood in a phalanx, shields interlocked, pikes glowing with a steady, disciplined hum.

The air here smelled of ancient incense, the scent of a cult that refused to admit it was already a ghost. Atum's nostrils flared. He could hear the heavy thrum of their heartbeats and the slight, metallic friction of their armor. They were waiting for a frontal assault, for a challenge.

They would get neither.

The Dark Side flooded Atum's system as he launched from the statue. He was a blur of black fur and shadow that hit the center of their formation like a kinetic shell. The Knights didn't even have time to raise their shields before the crimson blade of the Grave Hand hissed into existence.

He used the Force to turn his own body into a whirlwind, moving faster than the enemy’s optical sensors could track, a flurry of red lines that bypassed their shields and found the gaps in their golden plates.

One Knight swung a heavy pike in a desperate arc, but Atum didn't block it. He accelerated; his Force-enhanced reflexes allowing him to pivot mid-air, landing a heavy, clawed kick against the Knight's helmet that cracked the visor before his lightsaber finished the job with four near-simultaneous strikes.

He was a silent storm. No battle cry, no taunts. Just the wet thud of armored bodies hitting the marble floor and the rhythmic snap-hiss of a blade that never stayed still.

As the second Knight fell, his golden shield clattering loudly against the stone, Atum could sense incoming First Order reinforcements approaching the side door that had just been opened.

Great, another to share the bloodbath.
​

 

[Zareen Dreesen]

Zareen moved the instant the ramp dropped.

She stepped into the chaos with the kind of practiced certainty that didn't need orders to function, boots hitting durasteel just as blasterfire stitched across the loading zone. She stayed low, controlled, one hand lifting in a sharp, silent signal as she swept the field in a single, efficient pass. Heavy repeater nest, elevated left. Secondary firing lines were forming along the barricades. Movement patterns were already shifting to compensate for their arrival.

The missile strike that lit the far platform registered in her HUD. She didn't spare it a glance.

"Contact front, elevated left," she said over squad comms, voice cutting clean through the noise. "Heavy repeater's anchoring their line. Break it."

Her sidearm came up, two precise shots snapping toward a gunner who'd exposed half a shoulder too long. No wasted motion. No panic. Just the math of the field, executed cleanly.

"First team, upper access," she continued, already adjusting her angle. "Disrupt their coordination before they settle. Move."

Acknowledgments crackled back: she wasn't giving orders, not really, but no one questioned her read of a battlefield.

Zareen shifted into partial cover beside a cargo hauler as another volley scorched the ground where she'd been standing. Her helmet tilted slightly, tracking vectors, identifying gaps, and mapping the safest path forward for the people in charge.

"Second team, on me," she said, already moving. "We're taking sub‑level access through that loading corridor. Stay tight. No stragglers."

Her gaze flicked to Esmeralda. "You're with me," she said. Quiet, certain, not a request.

Then to Althea, tone unchanged but edged with the precision of someone who had already calculated the consequences. "Director, stay within my line. If you step outside it, I can't guarantee timing." Not a warning. Just the truth, delivered without heat.

Another burst slammed into the APC behind them, shields flaring bright. Zareen leaned out just enough to mark the repeater nest again, then keyed her comm.

"Two grenadiers. Suppress that turret. Blind them, don't kill them. I need a window, not a crater." A beat. "Now."

The moment the suppressive fire kicked up, she moved, crossing open ground with controlled speed, trusting the timing she'd carved out of the chaos. Every step placed, every shift of weight deliberate. She wasn't leading the charge.

She was clearing the way. Her voice came again, quieter but no less firm as they neared the sub‑level access. "Once we're inside, seal it behind us. No one follows."

Above ground was a battlefield. Below would be something else entirely. And Zareen intended to make sure the people she was responsible for reached it intact.

Althea Varrick Esmeralda Io

 

[Alana Halak]

ETERNAL ECLIPSE - OPERATION: LUNAR SILENCE
Hotshot - Chapter 1

FLYING: TIE/ca Mk. II Heavy Bomber
OBJECTIVE: Operation: Lunar Silence
TAG: Agethelos Kresten | Augustina 'Gussy' Nargath | Ayven Kresten | Valas Sarokhan | Vladic Drakov | Open

OVERDRIVE
​

LUNAR SURFACE - LOW ALTITUDE

Alana rolled her eyes behind her darkenede visor as the comms chatter from the Kresten twins crackled in her ear; talk of scores and dogfights. As Agethelos's kill blossomed into a brief, violent flower of fire in the upper atmosphere, Alana shoved her flight stick forward, sending her Heavy Bomber into a punishing, vertical scream toward the lunar crust.

<Keep your scorecards clean, Apex,> Alana snapped into the channel, her voice tight under the G-force. <Try not to let any of those bugs get stuck in my intake. I'm starting the run.>

The moon's surface rushed up to meet her, a landscape of sterile grey and long, sharp shadows. Her HUD began to scream as the base's automated point-defense turrets tracked her descent. Red needles of laser fire streaked past her cockpit, one clipping the reinforced solar wing with a jarring thrum.

She didn't flinch. A prodigy didn't need to juke; she just needed to be faster than the tracking computer.

<Targeting primary thermal generators,> she muttered, her fingers dancing across the weapon selection grid as she aims to thread the needle.

She leveled out barely fifty meters above the deck, the TIE’s massive frame vibrating as it fought the lunar gravity. She lined up the crosshairs on the narrow cooling vents of the life-support infrastructure. It was a shot most bomber pilots would spend three passes trying to lock.

Alana did it in one.

<Shifting power to forward shields. Crimson-3, committing.>

She toggled the trigger. A rhythmic thud-thud-thud shook the ship as a staggered load of proton bombs dropped from the bays.

The first two hits shattered the reinforced durasteel plating. The third and fourth disappeared into the guts of the facility.

Alana pulled back hard on the stick, the twin ion engines howling as she performed a brutal climbing turn to avoid the impending blast. Behind her, the thermal generator collapsed inward before erupting in a towering pillar of blue-white plasma that turned the lunar night into noon. The shockwave rattled her teeth, but she was already looking for the next mark.

Suddenly, the HUD in her helmet flickered, a swarm of new red icons blooming on her long-range sensors like a sudden rash. They weren't coming from the upper atmosphere where the 8th Elite TIE Fighter Squad were playing, they emerged from a hidden subterranean hangar tucked into the shadow of a nearby crater.

<Sensors picking up a fresh batch of gnats,> Alana said, her voice sharp and ringing with an almost bored arrogance. <Looks like the first hit poked the nest. Six—no, eight signatures.>

She banked her ship, the TIE’s massive solar wings straining against the maneuver as she brought her nose around to face the next target: the life-support hubs. The Rebel reinforcements were screaming toward Crimson Squad, clearly intent on stopping the heavy ordnance platform before she could finish the job.

<Static, Apex—I've got a tail forming and I'm not in the mood to dance,> she barked into the squadron comms, signaling the coordinates of the newly launched fighters. <Clear the air. I'm heading into the second run on the life-support array, and I don't want to see a single red streak on my sensors when I drop.>

Diving back toward the lunar crust, she pushed the bomber’s engines to the redline. The facility's point-defense fire was intensifying, filling the narrow canyon with a lethal web of green and red bolts. Alana gritted her teeth, her hands steady on the yoke.

<Targeting the primary atmospheric scrubbers,> she muttered, the targeting computer beginning its rhythmic, high-pitched lock-on tone. <Going in hot.>
​

 

[Athassehl Sylaar]

OBJECTIVE I - OPERATION: CAUTERIZE

Beskar Armor
Athassehl's Lightsaber


3 Zakuul soldiers were thrown across the hallway their backs smashing against the steel wall. They simultaneously crumpled onto the floor bereft of life as Athassehl walked through the corridor looking as if he was in an art museum observing the paintings. "Shoot to kill!" More reinforcements arrived: 2 poor souls who should know better. But Athassehl admired their loyalty and commitment, it is a shame to end their lives but they are good people in a service to a bad cause. Chaos has racked the Galaxy with fear and indecision and Order must reign. To accomplish this, the First Order must start establish themselves as people who would bring clarity to a Galaxy that is embroiled in insanity.

Athassehl deflected the blaster bolts fired by the troopers redirecting the bolts. The bolts smashed against the chest of one soldier and the head of another. They both died the same, Athassehl stepped over their corpses as he spotted a Shistavanen heading his way. Reinforcements at least judging by the First Order insignia.

"Greetings," he said with a bow his Lightsaber still humming. "Shall we work together and reach the top floor? No doubt the leaders are cowering in there."

Atum

 

[Esmeralda Io]

Location: Zakuul
Thread Objective: Operation: Cauterize
Mission Objective:

• Escort Director Dr. Althea Leia Varrick to Objective Alpha.
• Capture Paperclip.
• Secure data from Objective Alpha.

Tag: Althea Varrick Zareen Dreesen

The ramp dropped, and Esmeralda rushed out into the fray, her experience and training demanding that she move or die. All the while, she synced her mind with the Ghost Link in her skinsuit, supplementing her mental processing power with that from the tiny computers in the suit. Right on cue, her subjective sense of time slowed to a crawl. A missile streaked in slow motion and struck the second APC in the column, causing the vehicle to rock with the force of the impact.

Without delay, Esmeralda snapped her disruptor rifle’s electro-sight towards the RPG shooter and pulled the trigger twice just as he retreated towards cover to reload. He was a split-second too slow. The viridescent-turquoise bolt vaporizing his skull in a burst of nonharmonic energy while his suddenly-decapitated body dropped behind the barricade with hot, greasy smoke emanating from the charred stump of its neck.

“RPG down!” Esmeralda called out as she pressed forward, before sliding into cover behind a cargo container opposite from Zareen’s position. It was then that the corporal’s gaze shifted towards her, her voice coming quiet, yet clear amidst the chaos of the ongoing assault. She would be going with her into the sub-levels, to escort the Director down into the facility to extract its scientific data.

“Yes, Corporal! I’ll stay with you.” She confirmed, her voice steady.

She leaned out from behind cover, catching sight of a resistance soldier sprinting to pick up the fallen launcher from the RPG gunner she had just killed. Her disruptor rifle snapped onto him, vaporizing his torso mid-stride and leaving only charred remnants of legs, arms, and head. Esmeralda pulled back, and just then, a burst of repeater fire struck the APC behind her, causing its shields to light up in response.

"Two grenadiers. Suppress that turret. Blind them, don't kill them. I need a window, not a crater." A beat. "Now."

“Copy that. Priming infrared smoke!” Esmeralda did as she said, preparing one of her smoke grenades with practiced ease. Then, she tossed it towards the repeater nest. The smoke went off directly inside, enveloping the gunners within in a blinding haze.

“Smoke out!”

She moved after Zareen, unleashing a hail of suppressive fire into the smoke as she crossed the open ground, low and fast. Catching sight of a resistance soldier peeking out from behind cover, Esmeralda immediately dove, throwing herself into the ground as blaster bolts raced overhead, the air searing in their wake.

Esmeralda quickly returned fire. Her disruptor bolts found their mark, and the soldier’s upper half vanished in a burst of energy before she pushed forward!

Spoiler: Loadout

• First Imperial Army Trooper Armor
  
  • Energy Shield
    
    • Phase III "Force Avenger" Energy Shield
  • Undersuit
    
    • Esmeralda’s Skinsuit
      
      • Sanguine Power Cell
  • Miscellaneous Equipment and Personal Effects
    
    • Esmeralda's Pendant
    • C1 Personal Comlink
    • Gauntlet Comp
• PbDR-01 N.S.
  
  • Attachments
    
    • 1-5x FAE/S-08 Electro-Sight
    • Silencer
  • Ammunition
    
    • Blaster Power Pack - Tibanna Gas / Power Cell (10)
• Esmeralda’s SE-14r Light Repeating Blaster
  
  • Attachments
    
    • 1-5x FAE/S-08 Electro-Sight
  • Ammunition
    
    • FAE/AM-01-S1 Energy Weapon Cartridge (6)
• FAE/MDE-01-S2 Semiautonomous Seeker Thermal Explosive (2)
• Infrared Smoke Grenade

 

[FT-4655]

MISSION ONE
OPERATION CAUTERISE
SQUAD BEREK​

II​

​

As the rest of Berek started to appear around him, 4655 took the moment to allocate a portion of his helmet display to bring up a map of the assault zone. He gave a couple of well trained, memorised eye movements to allow the map to rotate and finally zoom in on where he and the rest of his squad were standing. Another eye twitch would send the display to the rest of them simultaneously so they, as well as he could take a layout of the land.

“We’ve got heavy resistance coming from the amber zones that meet before the main gate to the spire.” He offered to the team, not that they didn’t know that already; they like him had just gone through hell and made it out alive. “Resistance that will continue to make it difficult to get anywhere close to what we need as a breach into their defensive lines.” Two red circles flashed up in an area just to the north of them. These were emplacements of the enemy and 4655’s chosen target.

“We will pincer and eliminate these gun emplacements, then bunker down and turn their own defence line against them.” He felt his knuckles tighten around the grip of his blaster, a motion that only became more obvious as a great pile of dirt and debris shot over them, clattering off their armour like heavy rain. “Forn and Leth Squads will be pressing down the eastern flank by now. We can rely on them for support if we need it.”

He gave them each an actual look. Aware that his helmet, like theirs was unmoving, the emotional connections he had with all of them would be hidden away. As it should be.
“Let’s move.”

The quiet of the sound dampers failed, the second 4655 moved out from behind the cover the war of Zakuul became more than just background noise and distant screens. He ran forward, hitting his shoulder hard into another barricade, feet nearly tripping over the body of a stormtrooper that was missing half of his torso. He raised his blaster and with a breath held in his lungs took three shots towards a pair of resistance fighters that were changing cover in front of them, the first shot hit one of them straight in chest causing him to collapse to the floor lifeless, the second and third shot just wide of the other runner, instead hitting a wall behind. The resistance fighter had disappeared from sight the next time 4655 scanned the surroundings.

His squad was around him, all returning shots into the unapologetic combat in front of them, several resistance fighters taking hits from the blaster fire without returning much aggression of their own.

<<4655. New order directive. Surge the gate, place a transponder tick to allow the fleet to get a sure shot on it.>>

He almost sighed, but instead he just responded with a curt: “Understood.” Then quickly had to put his head down to stop it getting hit by a flurry of blaster fire.

“You heard the orders. Let’s move. Just like the simulations.” He said down his squad’s communication channel. Their new target was the gate itself, or at least as close to it as they could get. At 4655’s belt he wore a small grenade-like transponder that would allow the fleet in orbit to get as close a shot as they could on the gate and breach the way forward. It was indeed just like the simulations. Just with more death, and blaster bolts…and death. So much death.

TK-7277​

​

 

[FT-444]

ETERNAL ECLIPSE - OPERATION: CAUTERIZE
Omen - Chapter 1

GEAR: Blaster Carbine, Pistol, Vibro Knife
OBJECTIVE: Operation: Cauterize
TAG: Open

ANESTHETIZE
​

ZAKUUL

The body of the lookout was still cooling as Omen crested the final ridge overlooking the primary array. His HUD pulsed, highlighting the patrol patterns of the remaining Resistance sentries. As Omen adjusted his optical zoom, the sensor-suite flagged several crates marked with non-standard serial numbers; patterns that didn't match Zakuulan old regime productions, nor the local militia's typical black-market scrap.

Spoiler: Observation Log

Origin: [REDACTED]. High-grade Imperial-spec encryption.

The observation was logged for the Internal Security Bureau, but his immediate priority remained the path for the infiltration team.

Omen proceeded to descend the ridge with a soundless fluidity. He ignored the main gate, where a pair of guards stood huddled around a portable heater. Instead, he moved toward the heavy coolant pipes feeding into the array's sub-level.

A pair of automated sentry droids swept the perimeter with infrared beams. He waited for the micro-second the beams crossed, then stepped through the dead zone created by their overlapping sensors, until he reached the secondary access hatch. A quick flick of his wrist-mounted data-link bypassed the basic Zakuulan security protocols, but as the interface opened, he hit a secondary layer of ghost encryption; the kind favored by high-tier Imperial defectors.

Spoiler: Log Entry

0422 Hours. Encountering non-local security architecture. Hardwired encryption suggests external advisory or funding. Proceeding with manual override.

Omen proceeded to navigate the sub-level. Two technicians were arguing over a diagnostic console near the main data-junction. He didn't give them the chance to realize they weren't alone. He moved between them like a draft of cold air.

The first technician felt a sudden, sharp pressure at the base of his skull before the world went black; a precise strike with the butt of Omen's carbine. The second turned just in time to see a flicker of matte-black armor before a gloved hand crushed his windpipe. Omen lowered both men to the floor, ensuring no armor plates clattered against the durasteel.

He stepped up to the main terminal, his gloved fingers dancing across the keys as he uploaded a First Order backdoor.

<Shadow Lead to Slicer Vanguard,> Omen's voice was a ghost in the comms. <Entry Point Gamma is secured. Internal sensors have been looped. The path to the central core is open. Be advised: the data-casing here is high-spec Imperial-standard. Ensure your spikes are calibrated for high-tier encryption.>
​

 

[Augustina 'Gussy' Nargath]

FIRST ORDER

ZAKUUL - Operation Lunar Silence
TAG: Vladic Drakov | Alana Halak | Valas Sarokhan
SHIP: Resurgent Mk III-class Star Destroyer - The Gauntlet

The Ersteel Lady Cometh​

It was looking like maintaining the blockade was the calmest and least active job any of the First Order's people could be dealt with. Still, Augustina knew the importance of the job and didn't underestimate the possibility of having to engage in case of an emergency. The orders coming from Grand Admiral Vladic Drakov were received and acted upon without any complaint.

"Have our TIE squadrons retreat back from the atmosphere," A sly smile remained hidden behind the rebreather she wore, a deep rumble could be heard as she let out a sigh through the filters of the portable machine. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she noticed how her comms officer and navigation officer worked together to fullfill her commands to the letter. From the corners of her eyes, she could see the pings on the radar set up indicating the return of the squadrons she had initially sent out to screen and oversee the attack conducted by the specialized squadrons. "Contact the other vessels in the fleet, request for them to deploy their TIE squadrons and draw up a perimeter, relay this tactic to the Grand Admiral for final approval."

It was tiresome to have to rely on the Grand Admiral's okay for any action which required more than just the ship under her own perview to cooperate, but such was the downside of her own position. The freedom to avoid bearing too much responsibility, yet stiffled when operating as a small cog within a larger fleet.

"Are those?!" Even from just looking through the viewport, the commodore could see them, not sure if these were deserters or pilots attempting a first prick into the suppressive blockade thrown up by the Grand Admiral's orders. several squadrons of enemy starfighters broke through Zakuul's atmosphere, racing with blinding speed towards the blockade. "Have our TIE squadrons flank these renegades, contact those on site to close their gaps, lest we'd be having more of these straggler squadrons attempting to break our blockade."

Alana Halak and Agethelos Kresten would hear these orders through their own secured comms, mentioning that several of the enemy's squadrons had already broken off and were clearly pursuing a breakthrough of the blockade. In the meantime, the Commodore had already ordered her staff to erect the ship's shielding, utilizing the Gauntlet's point defense systems to take down as many of the incoming starfighters while at the same time relying on the TIEs to crush these annoying pests.

​

 

[Vladic Drakov]

FIRST ORDER

ZAKUUL HIGH ORBIT | ABOARD THE MANDATOR IV-CLASS SEIGE DREADNAUGHT
TAG: Valas Sarokhan | Augustina 'Gussy' Nargath | FT-4655
OBJECTIVE 2: OPERATION: LUNAR SILENCE

THEME MUSIC​

"As you say Grand Admiral, you have indulged me here today."

There was a stinging sensation that accompanied Valas requiring to concede to the Grand Admiral but at this time and in this place it could be no other way.

The Grand Admiral had read the Iron Hand well to one degree though, he was rather bloodthirsty. Other Hands had reputations as scalpals, some were assassins or specialized in covert operations, retrievals, etc but Valas was a hammer. If he was assigned at duty it was because the Black Hand, Valyra Keth Valyra Keth wanted something or someone crushed. The Iron Hand did not have a reputation for subtlety.

Eyes flashed back to the view ports where the looked towards the celestial body that was Zakuul and he would have remarked idly, any tension in his voice drained away with a coolness...

"I look forward to seeing the master at work, Grand Admiral."

The Grand Admiral stared at the Hand a long while as he begrudgingly conceded ground. Yet despite the situation, it would seem that Drakov had the good sense to leave some shred of dignity within someone who possessed the innate power of the force. He said nothing, yet gave the Hand a nod before turning to the ship Captain. Enough time had been wasted with debate and rhetoric - now was the time for action. “Captain Tock, how fares the offensive below?”

A few moments passed in silence as the Captain gained the measure of the situation. “Admiral, Commodore Nargath has arrived with The Gauntlet and made herself available per your orders. We have transmitted your standard orders to maintain the orbital blockade, and she has issued her acknowledgement. She has submitted a request for a fleet-order to deploy additional fighters to tighten the blockade.”

“Approved.” He nodded in approval. “Convey to the Commodore that she may take direct command of the blockade. She may engage hostiles at will, and at her discretion - within the bounds of our rules of engagement.” Those very same rules Drakov and Sarokhan had just finished discussing in fact. The Grand Admiral was confident the Commodore would have them all well in mind.

The captain proceeded relaying the Admiral’s orders, then continued: “The aerial assault on the lunar comm relay is in full swing. We are assessing the effectiveness of the initial assault as we speak, yet early reports have shown contact with remnants of the Zakuul-defense force...”

“Our ground assault on the spire is well underway, yet casualties are rising higher than previously anticipated. Reports are coming in of the outer barriers of the spire’s defenses being breached, yet our forces are still meeting stiff resistance. Generals on the ground are requesting aerial support for the offensive. We already have TIE Fighters patrolling the battlespace, but they’re asking for bomber support.”

“Granted.” Drakov responded flatly. “Deploy 2 bomber squadrons from our reserve, and prepare a rotational force for refueling cycles as needed. Provide them with a regular bomber presence on stand-by.” He stepped over to the viewport of the bridge, staring out at the besieged world below. “Zakuul falls today.”

A veritable swarm of TIE fighters and bombers emerged from the bowels of the dreadnought, with the bombers streaking to the planet below while the fighters supplemented the developing situation concerning the blockade. The bomber flight lead sent his TIE Punisher into a dive, with 23 other bombers following suit. The formation rocketted through the atmosphere, but leveled out at high-altitude/low-orbital position. The Lt. Commander flicked open his comm unit and tuned to the ground-command level frequency. <“Ground command this is Ferox-flight lead flying a ground support patrol-mission to your attention. Please advise of any ground targets, over.”>

​

 

[Agethelos Kresten]

OBJECTIVE II
MISSION- OPERATION: LUNAR SILENCE
----
8TH ELITE TIE FIGHTER SQUAD
COMMAND- AGETHELOS KRESTEN
CODE NAME- APEX

Lasers flying all across his viewport as they engage the rebel fighters, explosions go off to his left and right as his squamates' decimate the enemy,
"<Keep your scorecards clean, Apex,>"
"<Try not to let any of those bugs get stuck in my intake. I'm starting the run.>" he hears over his coms, coming from the bomber, he recognizes the voice, "that must be Hotshot," he thinks with a slight smile "They're in for a treat"

"Yes Ma'am" he says jokingly with a laugh,

As she goes dropping her bombs, 8th squad finishes off the rest of the enemy fighters that came in the first wave,
With only a bit of laser burns on his Tie fighter, Nothing serious at all as the enemy fighters aren't that well equipped, he hears-

"Apex—I've got a tail forming and I'm not in the mood to dance," Hotshot says

"Funs not over yet, Check your cords and Reform, About Eight confirmed fighters, maybe more coming towards the bomber, Clear house and escort Hotshot to her objectives." he says over his coms as him and his squad gets ready to engage the new contacts.


A moment passes- With his squad on the left in right of him, in a reverse V formation,

"Alright you have your orders, Same as last time, Watch out for point defense this time though, looking brutal out there" he says as they fly in and crash into the enemies blob, breaking and dispersing from formation as they meet,

Quickly taking out one enemy fighter in the front and banking to the right to try and take out another, as he tries to cut a hole throught their line.


Tag- Alana Halak Ayven Kresten

 

[Valas Sarokhan]

Mandator IV-class Siege Dreadnought
Command Bridge
Zakuul
Vladic Drakov​

---

Today he had lost, the Grand Admiral had defeated him in an exchange of rhetoric though he wouldn't melt away in the aftermath.

The Iron Hand remained on the bridge, blending into the background now that his command had been overruled. In truth it was a command that had never been his yet intimidation worked wonders. The Grand Admiral had the clout and rank to overrule him but a simple Captain would likely never be so foolish.

It didn't matter though. The First Order and the subjugation of Zakuul was the priority here today.

Valas listened as the Captain relayed information to the Grand Admiral, reporting the situation on the ground to him before command of the blockade was passed on to a Commodore.

Nothing registered on Valas features since the conversation had ended, like the iron in his title the Hand remained stoic with an expression that was a wall to anyone who attempted to study it.

If deprived of his desire to bombard the planet from orbit and see the populace brought to heel in that way he at least had a prime position to watch the operation unfold. Eyes stared out the viewport, he heard the command to launch the Bombers and nodded once as though he were satisfied. Any resistance would die here today.

 

[TK-7277]

FIRST ORDER

ZAKUUL | PLANET SURFACE
TAG: FT-4655
OBJECTIVE 1: CAUTERIZE

THEME MUSIC​

As the rest of Berek started to appear around him, 4655 took the moment to allocate a portion of his helmet display to bring up a map of the assault zone. He gave a couple of well trained, memorised eye movements to allow the map to rotate and finally zoom in on where he and the rest of his squad were standing. Another eye twitch would send the display to the rest of them simultaneously so they, as well as he could take a layout of the land.

“We’ve got heavy resistance coming from the amber zones that meet before the main gate to the spire.” He offered to the team, not that they didn’t know that already; they like him had just gone through hell and made it out alive. “Resistance that will continue to make it difficult to get anywhere close to what we need as a breach into their defensive lines.” Two red circles flashed up in an area just to the north of them. These were emplacements of the enemy and 4655’s chosen target.

“We will pincer and eliminate these gun emplacements, then bunker down and turn their own defence line against them.” He felt his knuckles tighten around the grip of his blaster, a motion that only became more obvious as a great pile of dirt and debris shot over them, clattering off their armour like heavy rain. “Forn and Leth Squads will be pressing down the eastern flank by now. We can rely on them for support if we need it.”

He gave them each an actual look. Aware that his helmet, like theirs was unmoving, the emotional connections he had with all of them would be hidden away. As it should be.
“Let’s move.”

TK-7277 listened to his sergeant lay out the situation to the surviving members of the platoon; a situation all of whom had lived through in the span of several minutes. Sevens had wondered why there wasn’t any damn armor giving them support, but the reason became obvious - those gun emplacements. Judging from the rumbling sound in the distance, those guns could turn almost anything into burning slag, and bodies were cheaper than walkers.

FT-4655 did not ask if there were any questions, and to his credit - none came to mind when Sevens heard the plan. There was a grim silence that fell in between the group; Sevens’ IFF mode set on his HUD identified those around him, despite the cookie-cutter look all of them had with their stark-white armor. Two were from his squad, a handful of others were from different squads within his platoon, as well as a host of stragglers from different platoons who likely met the same fate supplemented their ragtag unit. But none of that mattered now.

They were all in this together, whether in victory or death.

FT-4655 lead the way from their embankment, with repeater fire chattering around them all. Two troopers fell dead alongside Sevens, their bodies riddled with fire that would have killed him had they not been there. Sevens fell in behind 4655 as the barricade granted them much needed cover. He pulled up and loosed several three round bursts at resistance fighters down range, seeing one of them drop down from view before he ducked below the barricade’s line of view.

Superheated plasma chipped away at the duracrete barrier, which made Sevens even more thankful for its protection. A few moments later, their orders changed.

<<4655. New order directive. Surge the gate, place a transponder tick to allow the fleet to get a sure shot on it.>>

He almost sighed, but instead he just responded with a curt: “Understood.” Then quickly had to put his head down to stop it getting hit by a flurry of blaster fire.

“You heard the orders. Let’s move. Just like the simulations.” He said down his squad’s communication channel. Their new target was the gate itself, or at least as close to it as they could get. At 4655’s belt he wore a small grenade-like transponder that would allow the fleet in orbit to get as close a shot as they could on the gate and breach the way forward. It was indeed just like the simulations. Just with more death, and blaster bolts…and death. So much death.

‘Kark...’ Sevens thought to himself, daring not to even mutter it out loud should the words be heard by his Sergeant. It was not so much fear that raced through his mind, but rather the brooding reality of a man who knew he was ‘in the shit, and just had to wade through it to the other side.’

But the order had been given, and years of conditioning willed him forward. He grabbed a smoke grenade and looked to the others, who rose up and loosed a volley of fire. He rose up and tossed the grenade into the ‘no mans land’ between the squad and the gate, which was straddled on either side by trenches dug into the ground, and reinforced with sandbags and barricades near the mouths. The group swapped their HUD settings to thermal vision, which cut through the dense smoke and revealed the body-heat of the enemy combatants on the other side.

The smoke began billowing out of the grenade, with the group waiting as it did so.

Waiting for their Sergeant to give the order.

​

 

[Brackard Cain]

FIRST ORDER

ZAKUUL | PLANET SURFACE
TAG: Athassehl Sylaar Atum
OBJECTIVE 1: CAUTERIZE

​

Weeks before the Mandator IV even dropped out of hyperspace, Brackard Cain had already become someone else.

He had the Zakuul tower using a false identity. A military transfer from another site.

The Veil Hand had already taken his place so perfectly that even the man’s own squadmates never suspected a thing.

Now, stood within one of the operations room near the pinnacle of the tower, he watched two Hands assault the tower. They were moving to cut the head from the snake.

"We have Sith or Ren or... Whatever at the base of the tower!"

"Get those blast doors shut. Pull forces from the west gate to make a kill zone."

"The Major wants an update on those evac ships!"

He watched the Zakuul staff continue. A small, unreadable smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. It was the first time he had broken character.

The Veil Hand was a mirror. His own personality had been wiped clean. Using the Force he simply morphed into the expectations of those around him. It had become as natural as breathing.

With a casual flick of his wrist, he triggered the micro-spike he had planted in the system days ago. One by one, the heavy blast doors leading into the upper levels began to cycle open.

Athassehl Sylaar and Atum would find their path cleared when they struck. No heroic breaching charges. No unnecessary noise. Just silent, obedient doors sliding aside as if the Spire itself had decided to welcome the First Order in.

Brackard rose smoothly, slipping back into the persona with effortless grace.

"Another glitch in the system!" he shouted in a slightly clipped accent that wasn't his own.

"Recycle the system, I need those doors sealed now."

The other staff started on procedures woth remarkable efficiency.

"I'm afraid," Cain whispered, "That I can't let you do that."

 

[Atum]

ETERNAL ECLIPSE - OPERATION: CAUTERIZE
Gravehand - Chapter 1

GEAR: Crimson Lightsaber
OBJECTIVE: Operation: Cauterize
TAG: Athassehl Sylaar | Brackard Cain | Open

VENGEANCE
​

ZAKUUL

The golden hallway, slick with the lifeblood of the fallen Knights, felt cramped as the other Hand approached. Atum did not acknowledge the entrance of his fellow Sovereign Hand, let alone return the bow. When the question of cooperation was posed, the only response the Shistavanen offered was a low, vibrating growl that rattled in his barrel chest; a sound more akin to a warning than a greeting.

His yellow eyes shifted toward the blast doors at the end of the corridor. They were cycling open, sliding back into the walls with an eerie obedience.

He moved before the doors had even fully recessed. His body was a coiled spring of Force-fed muscle, launching him into a low sprint that bridged the gap in a heartbeat.

Two Zakuul guards stood on the other side of the threshold, their weapons raised to intercept the breach. They were too slow. Atum was already inside their guard.

He struck the first guard with a four-point flurry; shoulder, hip, neck, and chest, shredding the man's defense before he could even register the Shistavanen's scent. As the first body began to slump, Atum used the momentum of his final strike to pivot, his claws digging into the marble floor to provide the friction for a blindingly fast lateral spin.

The second guard lunged with a pike, but Atum was no longer there. He was a shadow to the man's flank, his blade whistling through the air in a horizontal arc that severed the weapon and the wielder in a single, fluid motion.

Without looking back to see if the Night Hand has already cleared the remaining Knights, and oblivious to the hidden hand of the Veil Handn clearing his path, the Grave Hand stepped over the steaming remains of the guards. He vanished into the next chamber, his nostrils flared, searching for the scent of the cowering leadership deeper within the Spire.
​

 

[The Arkanian]

OBJECTIVE I - OPERATION: CAUTERIZE

Inside the spire, in a conference room, the smoke of charred meat and fabric hung thick in the air mixing with the tibanna exhaust of blaster fire and the acrid stench of electrical fire to form a noxious cloud.

The conference table had been blown to pieces and its parts lay scattered across the room along with a half-dozen corpses. But the worst part? None of the chairs survived.

The Arkanian snorted in disgust and pushed aside a chair whose back had been obliterated. Pieces of wood and viscera smoldered on the seat, along with a giant hole in the chair fabric. The Arkanian sighed beneath his helmet and shook his head. No good.

Guess he would have to make do.

The Arkanian drug a corpse on top of another two bodies, then sat on the small pile with a mental shrug.

It would have to do.

Unsealing his helmet, he rested it on his knee and took out a hip flask of a rehydrating solution and gulped it down.

Exhausting work, killing.

 

[Athassehl Sylaar]

Underneath his hood, Athassehl gave a small sigh. This…… beast was more concerned about satiating his rage fueled rampage than completing the mission as quickly and efficiently as possible. It wasn’t about killing the enemy, it was about making them suffer, something that Athassehl did not care about. Two Zakkul Knights charged directly towards Athassehl though a single a Force shove was more than enough to send them flying their backs smacking against the wall.

Athassehl continued to bat away the blaster bolts fired by three Zakkul soldiers. This was getting tiresome. He was getting bogged down soldiers who don’t know that they’re outmatched and the only ally he had was a beast hopped on his rage. Redirected blaster bolts slammed against the chest, head and neck of the soldiers as they fell lifeless on the ground an Athassehl walked over their corpses realizing that the door was open the rest of the pathway was clear.

Athassehl raised an eyebrow but otherwise kept moving. Looks like somebody cleared this area. He entered the spire and looked around his Lightsaber still humming.

Atum Brackard Cain

 

[Brackard Cain]

FIRST ORDER

ZAKUUL | PLANET SURFACE
TAG: Atum Athassehl Sylaar
OBJECTIVE 1: CAUTERIZE

​

The first man turned too late. Brackard’s left hand clamped over his mouth while the right drove a concealed vibro-knife up under the ribs in one fluid motion.

A wet choke, a single convulsion, and the soldier sagged. Brackard lowered him to the floor, already pivoting.

The second soldier reacted faster, drawing a side arm.

Brackard closed the distance in two explosive steps. He slapped the weapon aside with the flat of his forearm, the shot scorching harmlessly into the ceiling.

Before the man could recover, Brackard slammed an elbow into his throat, crushing the windpipe. The soldier staggered, gasping. Brackard didn’t give him room to breathe. He grabbed the man’s gun arm, twisted it viciously behind his back, and drove him face-first into the control console with brutal efficiency.

It was a sickening crack of bone and plasteel. The soldier’s body jerked once, then went limp.
Brackard held him there for half a second longer, making sure the neck was broken, then let the corpse slide to the floor beside his partner. Blood pooled quietly under the console lights.

He exhaled once through his nose, calm as still water, and wiped the vibro-knife clean on the dead man’s tunic. The faint, unsettling smirk never left his lips.

With two precise keystrokes on the blood-spattered panel, he locked the outer door and overrode the security feed for the next twelve minutes. The blast doors leading to the upper levels remained obediently open.

Brackard straightened his stolen uniform and his hair. He slipped the knife back into its hidden sheath, and allowed the Kael Voss persona to settle over him like a second skin.

He stepped over the bodies without a second glance and vanished back into the dimly lit corridors of the Spire.

The Eclipse was proceeding exactly as planned. Soon it would be time to put this person aside - only the faint echoes of each murder left - and prepare for the next deployment.