Dominion Foundations | Dominion of Artorias-Shusugaunt | NIO

[Mithrad]

NEO-CSILLAN INITIATIVE
PART 1 | FOUNDATIONS
New Imperial Order

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A R T O R I A S | S H U S U G A U N T
867 ABY

With progress being made on the Dantooine and Genesis fronts, more and more of the Atrivis and Lahara Sectors are falling under the lawful eye and authority of the New Imperial Order. The attention of the imperial high command, and more particularly of the newly-established Imperial Secretariat now falls on the Artorias-Shusugaunt region, where Chiss interests, now aligned with the industrial support of the Trade Federation, seek to begin the first conquests and pacification of a renewed Protectorate to serve as a new homeland.

As preparations and massive industrial infrastructure and means are put into motion, with entire fleets of freighters, civilian ships and construction vessels amassed in the system, rumors and vigilance grow.

Some speculate that enemies of the Empire may use this opportunity to lay their hands on the rare Ithorian ‘world binding’ terraforming technology of the Trade Federation, machinery vital to the Neo-Csillan Initiative and which to some could certainly be used for nefarious deeds.

N E O - C S I L L A
OBJECTIVE I | THE WATCHFUL EYE OF THE EMPIRE
FOCUS | IMPERIAL KNIGHTS, ARMED FORCES, POLITICS, TRADE FEDERATION
ZONE OF OPERATION | ORBIT OF THE NEO-CSILLAN TERRAFORMING PROJECT
OPPOSING | MAW SABOTEURS, SITH DISRUPTORS, ESPIONNAGE​

The Imperial Secretariat and the board of the Trade Federation request protection of watchful Imperial agents, force-sensitive knights and logistics experts. Neo-Csilla, once little more than a barren space rock, is now in the middle of the world-binding terraforming process, being carefully turned into an utopian resort world.

Imperial Authorities warn all military personnel to remain on high alert in the duties of escorting civilian vessels or protecting the construction ground’s airspace.

A R T O R I A S
OBJECTIVE II | PACIFICATION OPERATIONS
FOCUS | DIPLOMACY, SPECIAL FORCES
ZONE OF OPERATION | ARTORIAN CAPITAL
OPPOSING | SITH-IMPERIAL REMNANTS, LOCAL ADVERSARIES​

Artorias, a sunny, verdant and otherwise idyllic world. Even under Sith Imperial control, Artorias retained much of it’s pacifistic abundance, and offered an opportunity to be brought peacefully under Chiss and New Imperial authority. The Secretariat advises all personnel to act with subtlety if and when necessary, and to inflict minimal damage to local populations and infrastructure.

Be wary of infiltrators, and display first and foremost that, like the New Order, you are an agent of security and protection, not destruction.​

S H U S U G A U N T
OBJECTIVE III | ATTRITION WARFARE
FOCUS | ARMED FORCES, IMPERIAL NAVY
ZONE OF OPERATION | HIGH-GRAVITY ENVIRONMENT, AERIAL OPERATIONS
OPPOSING | SITH & MAW OPPOSITION, SHUSUGAUNT LOCALS​

Unlike the Neo-Csillan Initiative or the oceanic world of Artorias, Shusugaunt is an inherently undesirable world. With an atmosphere plagued with a high-gravity pull, Shusugaunt offers little but a similar fate that once befell the then-enslaved Anx race that was brought there, unable to adapt to the anomalous circumstances of the planet. The Shusugaunt species themselves are warlike, aggressive, and are likely to pose as much of a nuisance as their past Sith masters.

You will be part of a rigorous, necessary campaign of spatial and aerial warfare, designed to utterly destroy all military infrastructure left behind by the Sith and the native Shusugaunti population. Shusugaunt will be brought down by the might of the Imperial Navy, and forcefully integrated into the Neo-Csillan Protectorate.​

:Salute:

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Neo-Csilla, Orbital Terraforming Station
Tags: Open

NEO-Csilla? The very concept was a blasphemy.

Hidden in the hold of the civilian freighter, surrounded by his veteran raiders, The Mongrel shook his head at the very thought. Csilla had been judged by the Avatars, and with their dark blessing it had been reduced to cinder. It was all part of the end of the cycle, the burning of the galaxy so that something new could grow from the ashes of the corrupt, stagnant old ways. Let there be no more Chiss Ascendancy, no more Sith Empire, no more Galactic Alliance. Let the age-old rivalry between Jedi and Sith come to an end with the destruction of both. Let the past die. Kill it if you have to.

But here these heretics were, trying to turn back time.

The Brotherhood did not intend to allow these sentimental fools to recreate their lost homeworld. The choice to terraform a planet near Artorias, in former Sith Empire space, had meant leaving all twenty-six other systems of the Chiss Ascendancy behind and moving to the far end of the galaxy's northern regions... but even then the Maw had pursued. They could not spare a fleet to attempt to punish these upstarts - their forces were tied up pillaging the Stygian Caldera or gearing up for war against the Galactic Alliance - but they could do as they'd often done before: launch a raid.

It would have to be a cautious raid, of course. This wasn't merely going behind NIO lines; it was entering the middle of the noose that the NIO had slowly tightened around the Sith Empire, choking the life from their most hated foes over a long series of military campaigns. While the Brotherhood's path engines allowed them to navigate secret hyperlanes and slip past borders and blockades, the raiders would still be far from home, and surrounded by their enemies. They would have to strike swiftly and escape just as quickly, or they would surely give their lives to complete this holy work.

That was why the raiders were coming in by stealth, rather than an open attack. Fortunately, that had not been difficult to orchestrate. A project as massive as terraforming a world required the efforts of hundreds of thousands, including countless freighter captains ferrying supplies and personnel to the site. It had been a simple matter to intercept one of the freighters as it crossed the now-lawless territories once ruled by the Sith Empire, and then to break the captain and crew. Now they served the Maw, brainwashed into fanaticism through pain and the Taskmaster's mental manipulation.

And so the good ship Droovo's Dream carried within its hold not its scheduled cargo of power cells and rhydonium fuel but instead a strike force of bloodthirsty marauders. Their goal was simple: to cause as much damage and havoc as possible, setting back the terraforming project as much as they could, before escaping. If they could also steal some of the terraforming supplies, so much the better. The kinds of chemicals and machinery used to reshape entire worlds could be incredibly dangerous in the wrong hands... or, from the savage Brotherhood of the Maw's perspective, the right ones.

Droovo's Dream swiftly approached one of the terraforming stations, transmitting its - perfectly valid, if slightly delayed, though that was not uncommon in such a massive project - clearance codes and preparing to dock. The Mongrel waited by the loading ramp, his scattergun clutched in both mechanical fists, his warriors softly chanting behind him. "War! Death! Rebirth!" These were veteran raiders, men and women who had fought with him on Felucia, on Thule, on Kril'dor... a few perhaps as far back as Ilum, though general life expectancy for a marauder was not nearly that long.

He was perhaps the only one to shatter that rule.

They would face a new challenge that day, fighting the New Imperial Order on a far different front... and perhaps facing some of their deadliest and most elite forces. The Mongrel had heard a rumor that the vaunted Imperial Knights would be present, assisting with security. These were the NIO's equivalent of Jedi and Sith, as he understood it, mystical warriors placed under military command rather than making up an autonomous order. He hoped they would be there. He was always eager to test himself against different orders of mage-knights. Perhaps they'd do better at killing him than the Jedi had.

He doubted it. He racked his scattergun and grinned.

 

[Djorn Bline]

V E N O M _ S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
REVYIA
BYOO

Every now and then he'd take some leave from his duties and travel several parsecs away from Imperial space to visit specific individuals. A small moment of peace before resuming his dirty work that he was so fascinated and obsessed with, practically unhealthy as he would commit time and immoral actions to his cause.

From a war here to a war criminal.

Truth was, he was always a criminal even if he didn't know it. Going down a path no one, besides his soldiers and followers, could follow or even dare tread on. It was cold and bloody, full of deceit and manipulations. The life of an idealist he was, and now he had come to manipulate someone else to follow his path to support his ideals. Another soldier for him to command.

"Ariel, it's me. I've come," speaking through the comm channel they shared.

She had come a long way, literally and metaphorically. Travelling large distances with two offsprings that belonged to both him and her. Children he didn't dedicate much of his time as his own priorities took precedent. He helped in some degree, but it was minimal due to his lack of presence.

Ariel Yvarro​

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

1
THE_WOAD
OBJECTIVE 4: BYOO
RAVELIN, BASTION

Interacting with: Rika Hiro

Peace and quiet, calmly serenity was ordered by Lord Willan, seeking somewhere for his trusty Woad as far from the mention of Korriban and the Maw as was humanly possible, that was the Lord-Protector's will and Lord Erskine knew by the look in Tal's eye that there would be no permissions granted for protestations on the matter; taken well into account on his journey from Archais to Bastion, as it seemed to indicate that Lord Willan was in the know about his poor mental-health in recent years, something the Stormchaser was sure he'd done well in keeping hidden from others. By the time Barran had booked into his hotel and walked to the Great Imperial Library, however, this would all be forgotten in his anticipation of returning to the library's Military-History Wing, and the excitement of finally being left alone to read in peace. A true getaway from the wild, destructive life he led, the only kind of which that Lord Erskine would allow under the circumstances, especially in times of war.

The same attendant from his previous visit had noticed him again, pleasing the Woad as it was perceived that the young librarian would've preferred to forget what was said to him before, meeting lad's hand in the middle in solidarity as the fellow muttered,'Good to see you again, sir. The Military-History Wing is right this way.... And thanks, for before I mean.', with much more confidence displayed than the youth had on the Stormchaser's previous visit. It was clear to the Lord-Commander that steps towards finding peace had been taken since their first encounter on Victory Day, giving Barran a certain kind of hope for the future that he had been lacking until that moment, giving him a reason not to doubt the weight of his actions. Accepting this reason for what it was, no matter how small it may have seemed to others in his situation, the Woad would wordlessly congratulate the librarian with an approving nod and stand aside to let the lad lead the way, happy in the knowledge at least someone was improving their lot of the two.

'Stick at it, this new attitude suits you.'

None were there, none would be allowed to disturb the Brigadier-General whilst he was reading, much like the previous visit, only this time, Lord Erskine would transfer a nice sum of money into the librarian's personal saving's account to make sure. The only thing Barran wasn't banking on was the nullification of authority, especially not by the likes of COMPNOR's ISB, and the Lord-Commander of the Blue-Hearts would be disappointed to know that he wouldn't be left alone to read,"A Jedi On Hoth - The First Order's Unexpected Assistance.", after all. Barely halfway through the second chapter, as Barran was taking a little break to spark a cigar and drink from his hipflask, the eerily recognisable sound of high-heels clacking steadily louder on approach stirred Erskine from his state of near-meditative calm, causing the old Woad to grimace dejectedly to himself for a moment before he could improve his expressions for the unexpected guest.

'Welcome to the Great Imperial Library, agent. I was beginning to believe COMPNOR had lost interest for a while there.... I'm unarmed, just like last time.'

 

[Ariel Yvarro]

R E V Y I A
​

Ariel made the decision to walk away from the First Order. She knew that walking away from that kind of power was practically unheard of. Especially when Ariel had made it her mission to get there it had been her obsession for years to bring back her cousin's empire. And then, and then, she had Ivalyn - her daughter and her entire world changed, her desires changed. Power no longer became something to obtain when she had it, instead, Ariel thought about how she had been raised.

How her cousin raised her children, and Ariel realized she did not want to raise Ivalyn in the same manner. Ariel did come to the conclusion that Djorn would forever be tied to his ideals and ensuring that the galaxy shared them. He reminded her of her own family, but when he was home, he was hers. After the birth of Zola, Ariel came to the conclusion that this was just how it would be.

Djorn would go, do whatever it was he had to do for what he believed in and ultimately for a belief that she too had a vested interest. Ariel also knew the horrors of war and what that could do, she wanted to be there for him and help sort through those emotions. When he called to let her know that he had arrived, Ariel let down the shield and waited for him to land the ship.

Shields were raised up, and Ariel left the gardens with her daughters in tow, ages five and three. Ivalyn wanted to impress her father on her stealth and so ran ahead of her mother and sister. Ariel held Zola against her hip and watched from a distance.

Djorn Bline ​

 

[Rika Hiro]

LADY_SILENCE_
COMPNOR
BYOO

"And even if you were? what difference does it make?."



The HRD responded blankly, taking up a seat opposite Tals favourite errand boy General Erskine Barran of Galidraan III. The last time they met, it was in the confines of Barrans office where she had cornered him. And it wouldn't be the last time either, and they knew all about the Galidraani's and Barran was of great interest to Yubari's superiors. With an eyebrow raised and an almost playful look of bemusement on the agents face, she picked up one of the many books laid on the table and flicked through its contents with mechanical like precision before placing it down and speaking once more.



"Why would we lose interest in a man such as yourself, Mr Barran You're very visible, both on the streets and off, scarcely an Imperial city out there that doesn't have your face and that of your leader plastered on posters."





Barran seemed to have an affinity for libraries; observation reports found him in many when not in frontline service. But, ever the budding intellectual warrior he appeared to be, he didn't seem to emphasise personal security. If he had been in COMPNORs gun sights like others had been, he'd of been found dead in between the library book sections long ago. But they couldn't kill him like that; he was too popular, both in the Imperial street and among the armed forces. He served his purpose of being alive, as did his leader. The Galidraani's as loose a cannon they were, were still a formidable force in the Imperial Assembly and led tens of thousands of battle-hardened soldiers and insurgents.


"Such a shame about your boy."



DECEASED Erskine Barran




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[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

2
THE_WOAD
OBJECTIVE 4: BYOO
RAVELIN, BASTION

Interacting with: Rika Hiro (my bad for boomer-mode forgetfulness with the tag)

Times had changed everything around him but the HRD, but Erskine remained amiable as he shut his book and turned to meet the gaze of the only thing in the Galaxy he truly feared, cold and uncaring as ever; Yubari was every part more menacing than any flesh-and-blood foemen he'd ever faced, and leagues beyond the assassin-droids the Woad had slashed and hacked his way through before that moment. Taking a leisurely drag from his cigar as he listened, Barran knew that he would need to be much more careful with his words than he had been in his previous encounter with the ISB, weighing his next response with more care than he had in any interaction throughout his storied life by then; as the mention of his eldest son closed out her greeting response, the Brigadier-General understood that he was correct, but trapped in a correctitude which prompted no celebration whatsoever.

'Aye, Lady Carla still hasn't looked at me the same since Tom's death.... However, she's quite right to do so.', Erskine started, pausing to drink from his hipflask and swallow the whiskey through gritted teeth, though both knew that he could handle the Cladhan's biting flavour just fine. No matter how well he carried himself on the issue, no father like Erskine could truly stifle such ruefulness and grief, and clearly the Lord-Commander was no exception to this, looking out the window briefly with shaking head before turning his gaze back to the HRD. More calmly than before, the Brigadier-General's gaze rest on that of Yubari with a kindly smirk and continued,'After all, I'm responsible for the death of our firstborn, and I alone.... "Well, yes! Lord Willan, send my son to provide backup for your daughter, he'll be fiiiine. He's a Barran after all!", worst mistake of my life.', understanding that the HRD hadn't meant anything sinister by mentioning Thomas in such a fashion.

'Should've just shot myself there an' then, to be honest. But, it is what it is, eh? Now, as for the visibility, it all seems pointless to me, as I only wish to wage war an' keep war from springing up within our empire now.... It's not easy trying to reconcile Tarkinism with Felism, I assure you. And though I found myself aligning with the tenets of the party I now serve, I still believe in Tavlar's dream of Imperial unification. We are all one and the same when the blaster-trails start flying, we all fire in the same direction more often than not, but ambition, greed, disdain and impatience keep spoiling the Imperial broth.'


An unknown librarian would pop their head in to see what was going on, but upon making eye-contact with Barran, he just bowed his head and closed the door again, wishing not to incur the wrath of the cold-eyed Woad who was glaring disapproval until the cursory bow was given in reply. Nothing of secrecy had been divulged, no real compromising words were spoken, and all of what Barran and Yubari had said by then could already by surmised from elements as low as the New Order's growing civilian diaspora, but it was plain for the new face to see that the Lord-Commander didn't like to have his privacy disturbed. When the footsteps had finally died down, the Stormchaser's ire relented enough to retain his focus, trying his best not to appear dismissive of anything said by the HRD as he said,'No wonder I'm suicidal enough to let potential threats know when I'm unarmed, for what real chance do I, an up-jumped tank-commander, have against the Felist party if they can act against ours with such impunity?'

'I'm just the scarred Woad-born who wants to die in battle now, agent. That's also why I think you forgot me, as it becomes more an' more obvious to my colleagues that I'm growing to resent the political side of my job.... Tal knows well enough to throw me into every crucible - he knows I'm a war-hound with a death-wish, an' by God I hope Heaven grants me that wish sooner rather than later.'

 

[Marimax Mortui]

Objective: IV BYOO
Location: Revyia
Gear: MM Beskar'gam / Trauma and Blackout / Rapture / XX (Dagger) / Fire Breath / B.U.G. / INT-66 / MX-111 / M3-X​

My life has been nothing short of a tragic turmoil, a poorly written play or low budget holomovie. I have witnessed both heroes and villains, playing both roles myself throughout the ages, shaping and reshaping the galaxy through various movements; ranging from galactic domination through warring conquest to the simple words of subjugation by political means. The galaxy, unlike governments, warmongers, political dissidents, and the lot, will always remain; whilst the latter only in historical archives, yet will eternally breed the dark characters and those enlightened heroes that face them in a vicious cycle we call life.

I have grown tired of trying to rebuild a galactic society, or protect it, from which it runs the same frantic tracks headlong into a never-ending fate or destiny. I leave the galaxy to those truly misguided individuals, letting them to destroy, rebuild, and repeat. For me, it's all about credits now. And what better way to earn credits: bounty hunting. This was a profession I excelled at once, before being dragged into a poorly crafted philosophy of cultural behavior that derailed miserably.

So, it's for that greedy reason alone that I came to this world; seeking a bounty on not one but two individuals. Twin brothers whose reckless nature has caused both damage to properties owned by respectable proprietors and deaths to the innocence. Treading to use these words, 'respectable' and 'innocence', with some swirling fog of contempt. These malicious by-products of poor parenting, if my information is accurate, have embedded themselves somewhere on this world. Outside that, it behooves me to do some grunt work to root out their exact location. And for that, I need to frequent the local cantina. A few credits, a few flashing of their holoimages, and loosened tongues from drunken patrons should prove fruitful. ​

 

[Aerarii Tithe]

THE WATCHFUL EYE OF THE EMPIRE // NEO-CSILLA

Mithrad | Gat Tambor | Darth Luminoth | TF
The Mongrel

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Aerarii Tithe, part-time Vice Chancellor and full-time member of the Trade Federation Board of Directors, gazed out the viewport of the orbit construction ring and down at the glory which was unfolding below on the world christened Neo-Csilla. A constant stream of Orca-pattern landing ships and Remora-pattern transports were ferrying millions of tonnes of raw materials down to the surface, closely guarded by Carrion-pattern starfighters. The procession of haulers had commenced within hours of the Trade Federation signing their exclusive contract to rebuild the world and had not stopped since.

Behind the scenes a dedicated army of TF logisticians and procurement droids were scouring the galaxy, tracking down the necessary material for the immense project. When the required resources could not be purchased at a bargain price, the Trade Federation Defense Force simply seized the goods under dubious ‘national interest’ laws. The TFs army of enforcers was matched only by their army of lawyers, who were well versed in crushing any lawsuits against the massive corporation.

“They say that, ah, Coruscant wasn’t built in a day,” the TF Director mused to the others assembled to oversee the unfathomable construction project. “Neo-Csilla, on the other hand… well, we may not be far off.”

 

[Gat Tambor]

X X I I : T H E _ G A L A X Y
DIRECTOR
TRADE FEDERATION
Mithrad | Aerarii Tithe ​

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A _ L O T​

All according to plan. It rarely ever deviated from the plan really. Or at the very least, there wasn't many variables that had to go right for Tambor's ambitions to remain profitable. Neo Csilla, as much as it otherwise would have been a largely standard procedure, relocation and terraforming of a world. The Chiss were easily one of the more influential species in the Galaxy and now- given the opportunity to rebuild the Ascendancy in a venue of their own making, a more pointed spotlight as shone unto the Trade Federation's efforts on this world.

This operation seemed monolithic in scale in isolation- but with the scope of the Trade Federation being nigh Galactic, it was one thread of many in a great network of large scale operations. The Trade Defense Force had a strong presence here to protect the working crews and missions going about their assignments on Neo-Csilla, working in tandem with the New Imperial Defense Forces as they'd been quite used to in the past few years.

<"OWEEERRRRRRRREEERRR- It always seems so unreachable in the beginning stages- but things will progress far faster barring any...fettering of our operations here. The Chiss are a high profile people now- in many ways, the eyes of the Galaxy are fixed on us and we need do good on it with a good, clean operation here...something I'm sure this 'Maw' will be eager to ruin for all of us. However, we have two of the finest fighting forces working in tandem to make sure that is not the case."> Gat iterated.

Not that he ever feared the actions of mere mortals.

 

[Rika Hiro]

LADY_SILENCE_
COMPNOR
BYOO

"Oh, Mr Barran, your time will come wherever by way of natural means or other, but right now, you're more important alive in the grand scheme of things."

She offered the man a shrug that was almost dismissive of the Galidraani's struggle with mortality; Yubari only saw things in statistics and results, if someone died, they died; it didn't matter to the HRD. But then as a product of the Imperial laboratory, she had no family, no love interest, no purpose beyond the call of protecting Imperialism. If the HRD were destroyed or retired tomorrow, it would make no change or difference; that's why the ERIS project creations were viewed so favourably as a tool to shape the Imperial future. They were more disposable and less likely to diverge from the ideals of the order, which was the failure of the real flesh agents in that ultimately they were people, and they had emotions and attachments that blinded them in their work. She sometimes wondered what it was like to have someone care, someone to love, but it was something so foreign and unknown to her that she treated it with disdain.


"Tell me, if you somehow fail to achieve your glorious martyrdom in battle, what awaits the old lord of house Barran? a cozy retirement never seemed to be your forte or fate."


Yubari smiled and pulled out a packet of cigarettes from her pocket, placing one in her mouth and pulling out a lighter with her free hand. The HRD took a drag and gently exhaled a cloud of smoke that almost obscured the porcelain-like features of the Atrisians face, an expression in her visage that gave all the impression of an individual who seemed almost amused and at ease in casually taunting a father about his own dead son.


"Fascinating truly but all things aside, I think you know what i'm here about Mr Barran."

DECEASED Erskine Barran ​

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

3
THE_WOAD
OBJECTIVE 4: BYOO
RAVELIN, BASTION

Interacting with: Rika Hiro

'Oh, Mr Barran, your time will come wherever by way of natural means or other, but right now, you're more important alive in the grand scheme of things.'

The only relevance he ever wanted was that to the men he led into battle, so the expressed relevance to COMPNOR's grand scheme troubled Barran more than he would ever care to admit, though the Stormchaser still took small consolation in the fact he was more use to them alive than dead. Taking silent note of this detail, the Woad-born would sit silently whilst Asa continued,'Tell me, if you somehow fail to achieve your glorious martyrdom in battle, what awaits the old lord of house Barran? a cozy retirement never seemed to be your forte or fate.', stopping to take out a cigarette and light it as Erskine briefly held firm on the matter in maintaining his patient observational silence. Taking all his previous actions into account, the Brigadier-General saw no positive outcome in any circumstances that saw him surviving the next few wars, especially after the weight of his blunders was factored in by competent historians and investigators alike; the cruel fatality numbers, the misdeeds and blind-eyes to the likes would all be used against Barran, and the Lord-Commander knew well enough that it would take a miracle to walk away from his career with reputation still intact.
At best, exile again.... At worst, firing-squad.

'Fascinating truly but all things aside, I think you know what I'm here about Mr Barran.'

He hadn't known, but his intuition would soon see to that, as the same look Yubari had given at the casual mention of Lord Tal's name seemed to be something similar to the visual hint Asa had given Lord Erskine on Thyrsus; almost pushing him towards the very same topic, but Barran had unwittingly glossed over what should've been greater detail on the Lord-Protector in particular, at least until the Stormchaser noticed that his second subtle chance had been given to get it right. Inhaling through his nostrils, Erskine briefly pursed his lips and muttered,'Well, if your previous visit is anything to go by, I'd say you came all this way to discuss the ongoing matter of the Free-State's Lord-Protector. Fair play, as we have been flirting with the inner-sanctum of the Tarkinist fold for quite a while now. Corrective movements rarely ever get by without internalised organisations observing their activities.', pouring a fresh swig of Cladhan-814 down his gullet almost immediately after.

'And as for Lord Willan, I think he'll be of greater interest to you once we actually retake Galidraan. I genuinely haven't a clue if I'll be able to bask in the glory with him for long, though. Unit 44 was just the tip of the iceberg that is the Lord-Protector's list of military-reforms to enact when Calavar is finally ours.... Such reforms that will surely see me spend longer spans of time away from Lord Willan, and perhaps even longer still from home soil to see what else he has in mind for us.'

 

[Djonas Val]

The Mongrel

The collapse of the Sith Empire meant a lack of security for many of the inhabitants that had lived in fear of the next Sith saturation bombing, or the next ritual that'd steal their lives. The apprehension was palpable through the Force, Djonas noted as he oversaw the disembarking of cargo and military equipment. While Neo-Csilla was to be the new home of the Chiss, it was to be the staging ground for the Pentastar Reclamation Campaign. The makeshift ring that trapped many unlucky Sith loyalists was shrinking with every passing day.

Command had issued an order to be... Gentler, but the man that had came out of the ruins of Bast Castle was not the same one that had gone in. The promise to be better, forgotten. The Sith had been a hypocritical threat that were far more dangerous than they could ever be, and as the Knight saw it, the Order saw many more successes when they treated their enemy without remorse.

With that thought ever prevalent, and the evidence of such a constant reminder with his cybernetic transformation, he vowed to be ruthless towards the enemies of the Order. To safeguard his people, the enemy would have to see him as the monster.

Having departed the command center earlier, the Gray Cloak overlooked the loading deck. The deck was filled with military, scholars and scientists venturing to Neo Csilla in an effort to get a first hand experience of the terraforming process. Grossly disorganized, yet the occasional Stormtrooper that could be spotted, their ivory plates easy to pick out of the crowds herded nonessentials out of the way of priority shuttles. While the terraforming station was of utmost importance to the newly minted Secretariate, the Gray Cloak co-opted a handful of hangars to act as a military deck.

The operation was going as well as it could. Huh-? Sensations of dark intent abruptly sparked to life in the back of his mind. His head snapped to and fro, scarlet cybernetic eye flickering across each and every unsuspecting face that he could catch. With every passing moment, the danger sense loomed greater and greater.

<< Deploy additional security to Hangar Deck Krieg immediately. >> Val spoke, his comm having come to life to transmit the orders.

<< Uh, which one is that? We haven't updated per the Force Corps designati ->> While the operator on the other end continued to speak, Val's attention was drawn to the proximity of the landing ships. Pain ripped across the ocean of monotonous boredom that made up the deck, and in its wake was a cry of pain as a life was snuffed out.

Answering blaster fire lanced out. Pushing through the stunned nonessentials before the reality of the situation registered, as one, he fought against the wave of bodies. The Cyborg Knight became a moving bulwark, a sturdy rock on the beach as waves broke on either side of him in an attempt to get around. From his belt, a silver hilt was drawn as he waded through the bodies to the source that the intruders came from.

 

[Konrad Harrsk]

A R T O R I A S
OBJECTIVE II | PACIFICATION OPERATIONS
ZONE OF OPERATION | ARTORIAN COASTAL VILLAGE PARIACCI
OPPOSING | SITH-IMPERIAL REMNANT CELL 'ECHO'​

A soft breeze caressed the gentle strands of grass stretching over the rural horizon of rolling hills. High noon, the lazy rays of the sun gleamed over the endless blue. The gentle wind of the ocean carried a faint taste of seawater, salinated by the tears of men and women sentenced to their death over the edge.

Such fate was exclusively reserved for collaborationists.

Rounded up, a dozen of villagers lied on their knees before the blonde stormtrooper reading their sentences. In a kangaroo court, there were no lawyers to appeal.

"Garm Finnon Coyne, Zena Lorn Coyne. Husband and wife. Lumberjack and leatherworker by trades, respectively. Traitors by vocation. Sente--" Lieutenant Konrad Harrsk began.

"I don't know where they are, I swear! Please, Sir, we have a son. Ten of age! Please!!"

"Do not worry, good sir, you leave your son in good hands. The Iron Sun Youth Group cares for its own." he replied, then a scowl darkened his face,

"Unlike you."

"But, Sir--"

"Sentenced to death by defenestration by the People's Court of Pariacci."

The cries echoed all the way through the fall. Four dozen feet of height shattered bones in an anticlimactic thud and splash. One spilled the beans but his fate followed those that came before.

The People had decreed so.

And by the People meaning Konrad Harrsk, the absolute authority in the region. And in his mind - in the galaxy.

The houses painted in pink, yellow, green and orange and the gardens flourished in the same brilliant colors. Verdant variety of bright colors enveloped the coastal village of Pariacci in an idyllic bouquet of flowers.. Not a single color was repeated in a sequences. As chaotic as it might sound, it was in reality quite pleasing to the eye. The elysian silence of the village was a mask. An illusionary veil enveloping reality--the silence of the grave.

Ever since Harrsk's platoon was dispatched to the village with the goal of eradicating a Sith-Remnant insurgent element designated by command as Cell Echo, the denizens were put under immediate martial law. Complete lock down. The platoon had made their temporary headquarters within the house a New Imperial patriot - Mr. Jin. The nights spent of rounding up villagers from their houses spread fear and terror. Neighbors turned to each other and under Harrsk's arbitrary eye were sentenced on the cape a mile away.

Fear broke fraternity.

Returning with the fireteam that accompanied him to the cape, he was unpleasantly surprised by the appearance of Storm Commandos in his makeshift debriefing office - Mr. Jin's living room. Not any storm commandos, too - but those of the paramilitary kind. Those that refused to abide by the absolute authority of the Empire, in Konrad's eyes.

"Why are you here? The situation is well under control." cold waves reverberated from his voice as he stopped to a halt in his office.

Volgin Alto | Hiran Avola

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Neo-Csilla, Orbital Terraforming Station
Tags: Djonas Val

Hangar Deck Krieg was, at the start of the terraforming operation, a typical example of NIO efficiency. Everything had been in its proper place, crew assignments had been clear and predictable, and cargoes and personnel had flowed through it like the steady, controlled movements of water through a hydroelectric dam. That had lasted for about a week. As the Pentastar Reclamation Campaign heated up, military traffic had begun to overlap with the terraforming efforts, which were already becoming chaotic due to shipping delays and the less-efficient nature of hired civilian contractors.

The result was as close to chaos as the NIO ever let anything get. Military and scientific personnel were scrambling over each other (and all but fighting for bunks and common areas), freighters frequently docked in the wrong hangars (or early, or late, causing endless headaches for space traffic control), and the once pristine hangar deck was strewn with cargo crates in transition. Labor droids and cargo handlers quite literally worked overtime to restore some semblance of order, pulling eighteen-hour shifts day after day... because if they didn't, terrible mixups were bound to happen.

No stormtrooper detachment wanted to head into battle only to discover that the blaster power paks they'd been issued had been accidentally swapped with atmosphere generators, and no scientist wanted thermal detonators in place of their botanical samples, but all of the above came through Hangar Deck Krieg in the kilotons every day... and never on schedule. So when the Droovo's Dream showed up almost a week late, none of the overworked hangar personnel thought twice about it. The freighter was given landing clearance, and a detachment of exhausted workers came out to meet it.

Then the cargo ramp lowered, and their shifts ended early.

The Mongrel and his warriors stormed out, screaming praises to the Dark Three, cutting down every droid and organic in sight. In the loud and chaotic environment of the hangar deck, it took a moment for anyone to even realize what was happening. By the time they did, by the time the screaming started in earnest and the workers began to flee for the bulkheads, more than thirty people were already dead. Many more died as they tried to run, hunted through the mazes of stacked crates by cackling marauders. A few brave security officers fired back, giving their lives to cover the workers' retreat.

They died as heroes, but they died all the same.

As The Mongrel's warriors began to secure the hangar bay and spill out into the access corridors beyond, the warleader himself hung back. There was no challenge or glory for him in killing these weak fools; he was beyond such petty acts of violence now, for he had other warriors to do it for him, men and women eager to climb to the heights he had achieved. Instead, he remained behind for the moment, overseeing the greater plan. He smiled behind his mask as the hoversled and its bulky occupant glided out of the hold of Droovo's Dream, guided along by a trio of labor slaves and their taskmaster.

Not all of the freighter's rhydonium fuel had been removed.

Just storming the terraforming station would certainly sow chaos, but lasting damage would require more than that... and the Brotherhood's brutally cunning engineers had already found a simple solution. They had preserved one large canister of the infamously-explosive and unstable fuel, then covered it in a shell of detonite-packed durasteel. The Mongrel himself held the detonator to the improvised fuel bomb, and his mind whirled with possibilities for where best to place it. The reactor would be perfect for taking down the whole station, but they likely didn't have the time or the forces for that.

They could always blow a major bulkhead, though, and let depressurization kill far more of the terraforming crew than the warriors ever could. It might not cripple the project entirely, but it would set it back by months - and billions of credits. All they had to do was to find the right spot. Next to a dormitory or mess hall would be ideal... or perhaps the medical bay. The Mongrel grinned behind his durasteel mask at the thought. Stepping forward, he prepared to escort the payload. Its hard outer shell would ensure that no blasterfire detonated it prematurely, so his only concern was moving it.

He was now on a collision course with an Imperial Knight...

 

[Hiran Avola]

CAPTAIN ROLAND DT-104
GALIDRAANI FREE STATE
UNIT 44 'RED JACKALS'
HEADHUNTER COMPANY
Tags: Konrad Harrsk Volgin Alto

Unlike their more wild counterparts in the maw, the Sith Imperial remnants were somewhat civilised when not led by idiots swinging sabers around. Whichever way, it didn't make a difference to Roland the others in unit 44, they just had a task to set out and complete. That was the total eradication and terrorising of Sith-Maw elements wherever they could be found; acolytes, knights or lords all were equal targets to the unit.


The last few weeks found his unit busier than ever, with multiple successive raids and kill counts ranging in the dozens to hundreds of Mawite and Sith personnel. His men were overly fond of decapitating those they killed and taking fingers and ears to tally up their kills, Roland since being deployed, had amassed a collection of at least fifty three fingers and ears collected from the enemy like some trophy sport. After all, the commandos of Unit 55 didn't carry large combat knives and machetes for no reason.


"I'd hope so Lieutenant, would be a bit embarrassing if you and your men didn't."

The Galidraani replied after disabling his voice scrambler on his helmet, several of his men moved around the captain and began to set up monitoring equipment and logistical depots for the operation ahead. He didn't know who the other man was, but his unit was well aware of Republika Mantellska and its paramilitary elements, tough sons of guns, all of them.


"Captain Roland, designation DT-104 Unit 44, Galidraani Free state, nice to meet you all at this trying time."​

​

​

 

[Volgin Alto]

M A U L E R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
NEW IMPERIAL ARMY SPECIAL FORCES
ATTACHED TO GFIS UNIT 'HEADHUNTERS'
Konrad Harrsk | Hiran Avola

While he was just another cog in the machine in the 'big army', the Mauler was a household name in the Republika Mantellska Garda. Operations like the ones undergoing on Artorias and these other Sith Imperial remnant worlds was right up the wheel house of Volgin and his boys. It was bandit fighting at its finest - the war machine and organized government of the Sith Empire had collapsed and what was left to fight them was pockets of organized resistance and insurgents. While the fighting spirit of the Sith Empire had been vanquished months before the official concession- there would be those sword and flag patriots there to hinder the New Imperials every step of the way. Volgin knew just as well from the Keshiri Empire in-exile that these sorts existed anywhere and everywhere regardless of how pathetic their host nation was.

As much as the image the NIO projected to the rest of the Galaxy was that they were the valiant liberators, the Iron Sun, the beacon of order. But total war left a lot of dirty work to get done, which meant a lot of dirty hands and a lot of cruel men willing to do what needed to be done. Among the tranquil plains, only a few of these sorts roamed Artorias. To sniff out any pocket of resistance here.

In spite of his position as a senior NCO, he piped up between the two with his voice distorted by his helmet, carrying a thick and deep Mantellian accent to his words.

<"Things are never so 'in control' as you think they are, Lieutenant. This might be a peaceful beach to you all but I assure you...there is insurgents here. We have to find and eliminate them. You have a presence, yes but have all these buildings been searched? Do we know which...Sith Lord carried influence here. Those rats might have been driven into the shadows but they know the right things to say to these idiots to get them to do their dirty work...we need to find who is willing and more importantly, someone who is willing to blow the cover of the rest. Need chain codes run on all of these people...to find who is former military and start from there."> Volgin suggested. Even if there was nothing at all, they still had to send a message.

 

[Konrad Harrsk]

A R T O R I A S
OBJECTIVE II | PACIFICATION OPERATIONS
ZONE OF OPERATION | ARTORIAN COASTAL VILLAGE PARIACCI
OPPOSING | SITH-IMPERIAL REMNANT CELL 'ECHO'​

Galidraani Free State.

Konrad nearly choked in laughter in his head but maintained the grim persona of an Imperial officer on the outside.

So free that you've not set a foot on it, yet.

A descendant of an uppity, pretentious people that for ages could not even liberate a street from Sith rule on Galidraan and a son of the mentally backward, scrap eating Mantellians. The Empire truly sprawled the galaxy as it ruled through both treasure worlds and trash pits. Of the latter category were these reinforcements sent from. The Imperial society truly needed severe regimentation before these so-called warlords gained even further strength.

The stronger they were, the weaker the Empire was.

"You don't need to assure me anything, I know there are insurgents here ...and exactly where." he said in a cold and military voice as he stepped forward to the holotable at the center of the living room. It lit up in a rough projection of the village. Seven hundred lived here. After the last week of 'recon', at least forty were now swimming in the ocean. No price is high enough for the security of the Empire.

"Here. The school." he zoomed in on a two story building halfway from here. "There's an old basement, one that was abandoned when the school was rebuilt. The Sith scum are hiding there during the day and spring ambushes on my patrols at night." the holo of the school began to rotate, "We'll need to set up a wide perimeter, I doubt they have only one place of entry and exit. If we light them up, I don't want them crawling out through another hole in the ground."

"We have the whole afternoon to us. I am not waiting another day to eradicate this cell." Konrad glanced at the two special force commanding operatives, "Get your men ready to move out. It is time to normalize the situation here."

Volgin Alto | Hiran Avola

 

[Hiran Avola]

CAPTAIN ROLAND DT-104
GALIDRAANI FREE STATE
UNIT 44 'RED JACKALS'
HEADHUNTER COMPANY
Galidraani tags: Konrad Harrsk Volgin Alto

​

Roland nodded in agreement with the Mantellian, his helmet hiding any form of visible contempt he had for the third man in the room. If him and his unit had to share any future headquarters with this yuppy and his band of green boys, he might personally lodge a complaint to the Imperator at the slight of it. Years of service in the Galidraani security forces and then the anti-Sith Free State had left the older man accustomed to rigid environments and harsh discipline which dominated the Galidraani military. But this, this had all the hallmarks of a circus, and he wagered if his men and the Mantellians hadn't shown up, the pup in command would still be cluelessly besieging the holdouts.

Basements were always a dangerous bet; little lighting and the relative unpredictability of building clearing ops left it a risky endeavour for soldiers. That's where Roland and his ilk came in, leaving the meat and potatoes soldiery to the typical free state trooper and the laborious task of Commando operations to Unit 44s death troopers.


"I'll have my men set up a watch on the northern side, and a firing squad and I will breach the basement and funnel them out into a Killzone, do with them as you must, I'll have a SITREP. Soon," and with that the Commando captain departed, with several soldiers in tow.

​

​

 

[Mithrad]

HIS MAJESTY'S SECRETARIATE
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
NEO-CSILLA
TERRAFORMING PLATFORM - IN ORBIT

N E O - C S I L L A
OBJECTIVE I | THE WATCHFUL EYE OF THE EMPIRE

Aerarii Tithe | Gat Tambor | Djonas Val | The Mongrel
​

The crimson eyes of the Secretary closed for a spell as he smiled faintly, heeding with attention to the words soon uttered by both Senator Tithe and Chairman Tambor. Folding his straight-sleeved arms in his back, the man soon opened his sight once again, only to place it upon the evolving, ever-advancing construction of the synthetic world down below, a veritable spectacle to which they were all privy through the wide windows of the station. Alongside the veritable armada of transport, mercantile and construction ships had been peppered thousands of Chiss loyalists and coordinators, aiding in the well-being of the operation with a resolve rarely seen, a hallmark of a ruined, yet not conquered, race.

Mithrad soon tilted his head to the side slightly, turning towards the two other esteemed individuals. He smiled faintly, thin lips breaking at Aerarii's comment.
"Imperial ambition, Federation experience and Chiss efficiency have blessed us with such a spectacle."

He offered a single nod as Tambor spoke, although Mithrad's sharp-eyed gaze broke ever so faintly, wrinkles and creases appearing at the tips of his eyes in mild annoyance that he had to suffer through Gat's voice system issues with every comment. He was apt enough to have long realized the Skakoan could certainly procure himself a better setup- if he wished- but the Chiss bureaucrat knew well the power that resided in controlling the flow of any given conversation- thus he tolerated such out of understanding.
"The Federation and the Initiative both stand to gain enormously from such a galactic project- one of rebirth, and not destruction. The Maw, Sith, or any other interlopers are not merely a possibility, but a certainty."

The Secretary spoke calmly, almost as matter of fact. "It is, afterall, exactly why I made sure the Imperial Knights were integrated into the flow of these operations. I may not be a warrior myself, but I'd /quite/ appreciate to gaze directly upon some of the architects of my family's death."

He had never ushered much, about his past on Csilla. An evident gaping wound in the man's morale and psyche, evident to other adept manipulators like Tambor and Tithe, even if the progenitor of the Neo-Csillan Initiative hid it well otherwise.
It was at that moment that the terraforming station's alert system began blaring in obvious urgency, lighting turning a faint shade of red as pre-recorded messages began playing out, warning of enemy intrusion in the hangar levels- specifically, Hangar Deck Krieg.

"Well, well. It would seem our merry band of galactic anticapitalists have made their arrival."
The Secretary turned then from the glass window, peering towards Tambor and Tithe, his arms yet folded in his lower back. At this belt rested a black AP-25i , holstered.

​