Invasion [GA | DE] Operation Shadow Hand | GA Defense of Tython, Empress Teta, & Prakith

[Jon Hojkstra]

ONCE LOYAL // Issue 2​

Cinnegar, Empress Teta
Allies: KN-967 TK-818 Thomas Barran Arminius Kroeger
Enemies: Ashley Nevermore Gress D'ran (assuming more)

Hubris.

Hubris was the only word that could encapsulate the folly of Sabine Korvan 's decision to go ahead with the uprising, when more than half of the prepared cells had been compromised by the Starbird's spooks. The ISB's reckless gambles and the Corps' unyielding obedience to their directives had woven a tapestry of disaster—we point, you shoot—no questions asked. But when the gamble's wager was due Korvan was nowhere to be seen, nor heard; it was the grunts, the men and women in white, who were to pay with their lives for her hubris.

Under the relentless gaze of a callous sun, the skies above Ziost transformed into a canvas painted with abandonment. The planetary shield had been activated. A shimmering death trap enveloping the heavens above and damning the countless stormtroopers to death. It was a massacre, much like had Ziost had been, a grim reminder of the day the GADF had turned its back on the Imperials, leaving them to die on a foreign world.

Jon's mind drifted back to that fateful day on Ziost, the memory as vivid as if it were yesterday. He had been the sole survivor of his unit, a distinction that haunted him more than honored him. The screams of his comrades, the smell of charred flesh, and the sight of a sky ablaze with betrayal were etched into his very soul. He had seen firsthand the cost of cowardice, the price of failing to do the right thing.

The right thing?

The Empire, his once great nation, had long fallen.

Whose war was this?

As the veteran stood amidst yet another foreign world, the question hammered against his mind. Was it truly his? The nation he had sworn to serve had crumbled into dust, its ideals lost to the winds of change. What loyalty did he owe to a cause that no longer existed? The Dark Empire, claiming to be the same nation he had once served, with its seductive promises of vengeance for his fallen comrades, tempted him with the names of those responsible for his unit's demise.

Kroeger's words rang in his mind:

"Men like you and me don't have much of a place in the Galaxy anymore."

But amidst the cacophony of war, with blaster fire lighting up the twilight and the ground vibrating under the impact of distant explosions, the words of his old comrade were drowned under. The battlefield, with all its chaos and carnage, had a peculiar way of simplifying the world into a dichotomy of survival and death. Surrounded by the tumult of conflict, the earlier musings were forced back into the depths of his mind, washed away by the adrenaline-fueled clarity that came with battle.

Jon Hojkstra was a survivor.

Even if it had been more of a curse rather than a blessing.

Action called, echoing the hundreds of hours of trained muscle memory to act in combat.

Without a second thought, the former stormtrooper burst into the room beyond and mowed down an Alliance forward party with an onslaught of blaster fire. A ruthless double-tap followed for the one that had survived.

"But still...the Galaxy will never lack for killers like us."

 

[Makai Dashiell]

EMPRESS TETA

One minute they were sitting watching the Nunaball Draft Combine and having a chat on all his failings and the next the windows were being blown out of the expansive sports bar. What the hell kind of planet was this? Beyond the political rumblings, Empress Teta had long been quiet.

Listening over the klaxons, Makai picked up a familiar sound ; shelling. The last time he had heard them,himself and Ellie had been in the middle of business and the next was a zombie attack. Was it another damned zombie attack? What was with the virus being unleashed on every planet he was stepping foot on lately?

Fuck indeed.

“With you on that one Castie. Come on, let’s get moving.I’ve parked my ship somewhat nearby, its in the Core District.”

They weren’t that far off from the ritzy Core District. Not knowing the klaxons had activated a planetary shield,Makai figured they could make a run for it away from the shelling. Thirty-Seven and himself had navigated out last time, Makai was confident he could do it again.

Both men took to the stairs, leaving the second floor of the sports bar.Makai really didn’t want to deal with zombies but at least he had been working out ; his morning runs had done wonders for his endurance. Zombies could be outran. Warheads not so much.

“Look at us Castie, getting all this bonding time in.”

 

[Aerarii Tithe]

LINE OF SUCCESSION // ALLIANCE ONE
Auteme​

The skies above Tython were once again playing host to a devastating conflict between the forces of darkness and the protectors of the light. The ascendant Dark Empire, lead by the Sith’ari Darth Solipsis - the most dangerous Dark Lord since the 400-year darkness , had launched an invasion force deep behind Galactic Alliance border, striking at Tython and Empress Teta. Two worlds which still held the scars of the last war between the Sith and the Jedi.

The chaos of battle above Tython was replicated on the bridge of Alliance One, the beating heart of the Alliance defences and personal flagship of the Chancellor. Alliance crewers moved between their battle stations, adjusting shields, aiming turbolasers and rerouting power as they engaged the Dark Empire fleet. Such was the chaos that few noticed the armoured blastdoors to the bridge opening to admit a familiar face.

Aerarii Tithe took a moment to survey the bridge, flanked by a quartet of attendants who had disembarked his shuttle in the forward executive hanger. It felt strange to be back. But there was no time for nostalgia, he had to keep his mind on one thing - credits.

It has been more than two decades since Tithe had set foot on Alliance One. The Aargauun had commissioned the construction of the colossal vessel during his time as Vice Chancellor of the Alliance. Tithe had lined his pockets thanks to the project, directly interfering with the procurement process to ensure the work had gone to Trade Federation subsidiaries despite charging significantly above market value. Loyal corporations had built Alliance One to his exact specifications, including some systems not reflected in the official design documents. The executive cruiser had served him well during his tenure as Chancellor, and he doubted there were few people in the Alliance who knew the ship as well as he did.

Knowledge was power in his line of business.

Banking vaults. Asset sheets. Credits - think of nothing else.

“Ahh, yes, Chancellor, an indubitable pleasure,” Tithe declared as he strode toward Auteme . The two had known each other for decades, with Auteme having helped Tithe escape the Sith Empire during the fall of Bastion. She had since gone on the enter politics, and now held the role Tithe once had. “Though I must say, the circumstances could be more, ahh, agreeable.”

“And might I say, your timing is most impeccable. You see, I was just concluding business on Tython when the Empire arrived. Ohh my, was that a surprise. Somehow - against all logic, against all conceivability, against everything in the natural order - Solipsis has, ahh, returned.”

All around them, Alliance technicians and officers moved between their battle stations, coordinating the Alliance fleet. Tithe glanced at a holoprojector cycling through battle assessments. While he was a master of credits, the battlefield functioned similarly to any other market. Rivals competed for market share and dominance, innovation and agility were rewarded, and a bad call could end in ruin. To his assessment, fortunes were not favoring the Dark Empire. He had to move quickly.

“Could I possibly impose to join you on the bridge,” he asked. “I don't mind saying that I picked up a thing or two during my time in your chair. And maybe we can discuss some recent Senate decisions. I must say, I was most alarmed to learn that…”

Profit sheets. Corporate restructures. The Aduba-3 tax haven.

He just had to keep his mind on credits.

Auteme would have a much harder time sending his true intentions if his mind was focused on credits.

 

[Lycus Merita]

The 283rd
Chapter Two: Wet Feet
Location: North-West Bank of the River
Tags: Thomas Barran , KN-967 , Ashley Nevermore , Gress D'ran , TK-818 , Ellayina L'lerim , Ardana Vorco , Makai Dashiell , Jon Hojkstra

Objective:
Hold the bridge at all costs
​

The river was already filled with dead.

The bloated bodies of Alliance Troops, Imperial Insurgents, and civilians floated down so thick that you could walk from one shore to another without getting your feet wet. Great fires already raged throughout the city, consuming entire building blocks while bellowing smoke and ash. The great shield was excelling at keeping enemy forces out but also kept the rancid smell of rotting bodies in.

Major Lycus Merita watched as his troops unearthed another massacre. A line of the elderly, women, and children lay slumped against the wall. They had run out of body bags hours ago. "Get it all on record now – get the films – get the witnesses – because somewhere down the line when we have their Emperor hanging on a noose, some Imperial bastard is going to call this propaganda."

The 283rd Air-assault Battalion had been inserted into Empress Teta the moment the unrest had started due to their specialty in rapid deployment and quashing situations before they escalated. They had failed at the latter but could anyone have expected an assault of this scale and ferocity? The two worst qualities of the Galaxy, Imperialism, and Anarchy, had decided to join forces and launch an all-out attack on the Republic. Now the 283rd had been covering the demolition job of the Remagan Bridge, a stone and durasteel through arch bridge that was as old as the city itself.

Should have stayed hidden when the Second Hyperspace War wrapped up, he thought, this time we'll finish the job, and we won't stop until every single one of your skulls is on a stick before the senate.

Lycus had already contemplated giving out the order for his men to have their recording devices "malfunction" when taking prisoners. His contemplation was broken when he noticed shouting behind him. Clothes ragged and bloody, PDF and civilian engineers were fleeing from the bridge into the city core. "What the-" he swore before grabbing one of the PDF troopers by the lapels, "Where the hell do you think you're going? The bridge isn't finished yet is it?"

The PDF trooper stuttered, "They're coming! They're coming!" before breaking away and sprinting down the street like the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels.

"Aw, kriff," Lycus strode down the street towards the bridge. His seven hundred troopers had already set up basic defenses and manned the main trenches and rubble glacis hastily dug. His armored reserve of twenty-eight Reman Infantry Fighting Vehicles waited several hundred meters east, hidden from airborne threats in garages and alleyways ready to drive forward in the event of a breakthrough.

Lycus crossed between fire-gutted roofless building blocks until he reached one directly overlooking the bridge itself, his combat boots crunching into the thick crust of ash and shattered glass that littered the place. A platoon of his troops were stationed around windows and murder-holes dug into the wall. About half a dozen of them served as crews on a pair of E-Web heavy repeating blaster scavenged from a local museum.

"Emmi, give me a sitrep," he called to the Captain of E "Easy" Air-Assault Mechanized Company, a Trandoshan woman in her late thirties with an ugly battle scar down her right eye.

"Cowards. Each one of them. The moment they heard the turbo lasers firing they thought it was Imperial forces. Tried to stop them. Even fired a few shots into the air. Didn't shoot any of them, if you're wondering, though I was tempted to."

"In the end, they're still citizens. Did they get the charges down?"

"They managed to place most of them."

"Good, let's blow them and get out of here. I got reports of Mawite forces starting to move against our flank."

"Honour's all yours, sir," she pushed forward a jerry-rigged det-clapper. Lycus took it, telling his men over comms to get their heads down before activating it.

BOOM!

The blast had been bigger than he had expected and Lycus was thrown to the ground, the earth shuddering beneath him as if the very world were breaking apart. The center span of the bridge lifted as flames licked all around it, rising with the force of the explosion, soaring briefly into the air in a scream of shrieking durasteel before gravity reclaimed its due.

"Did we get it?" Emmi groaned as she got back on her feet.

But the bridge, though there was a massive hole in the center and much of its durasteel supports were twisted, remained defiantly intact. Intact enough for troops and medium armor to still cross, heavy armor if they had time to repair it.

"Being cowards and being incompetent, what a wonderful mix," Lycus swore. "Get me on the comms with artillery and tell them to hit it with everything they have!"

"Sir!" the comms operator called out, "That explosion knocked out our antenna. I can't get into contact with anything but local units."

"How long to get that antenna up?" Lycus yelled. Already blaster fire was erupting as Imperial forces discovered the failed demolition.

"Thirty minutes. A messenger on a speeder-bike will take just as long!"

"Damn it!" Lycus kicked a loose brick out of a broken window before getting back on comms, "New orders. We hold this bridge until artillery destroys it in thirty minutes. We fight until we're dead. Not until we're out of ammunition. Not until we're outflanked. Until you're dead! Scratch that, I'm not going to even take death as an excuse. 283rd, it's time to prove ourselves!"

Alliance troops surged forward to re-manned defensive positions, setting up mortars and anti-tank rocket launchers.

The bridge at Remagan was OPEN.

 

[Lily Decoria]

Objective 3: Clash at Kaleth
Equipment: Crossguard Lightsaber, Echani Energy Shields, Hydrangea Mooblade (strapped to her thigh under her tasset)
Outfit: Jedi Attire
Tag: Amena Kader

"Again." Lily instructed the combat droid.

"But Padawan Decoria, you have been training for an hour now. It is recommended that rest is required, please take a break before we restart the combat simulations." The training droid replied, much to Lily's frustrations. She had come to Tython, specifically the Je'daii temple so that she could do some more intensive training using energy shields that her people made as well as the new Lightsaber she had acquired in recent months.

It was taking longer than she would have liked for her to adjust to the varied Lightsaber fighting styles. She was finding herself being stiffer and reluctant to be as creative as she had seen holocrons of others being. There was so much she had seen others being capable of with the blades and with two Lightsabers in general that Lily was underwhelmed with her own performance. It was like she preferred the formulaic combat styles that she had been training in, over being more free form and adapting in combat. The issue was frustrating her in numerous training sessions and she assumed that travelling away from Coruscant to train without the eyes of her Master, Briana Sal-Soren would assist in that matter. As well as hoping to find some more information on combat training and the history of the Lightsaber forms.

More reading was never an issue for Lily either.

Noting that the droid would not restart the simulation that she had failed the past hour, she wandered over to her supplies and took a long drink. Towelling off the sweat while she could. Lily then felt a cold shiver run right through her whole body, goosebumps forming on her skin as Lily's mind started sensing her surroundings more clearly. The clashing of blades not too far from her, the battle cries, the shiver of darkness that hit her again. It was cold, so cold. That feeling only meant one thing.

Sith were here.

Igniting her cyan crossguard Lightsaber, Lily breathed in deeply, she needed to find someone to help her figure out what to do and where civilians and younglings might be to get them to safety. Tapping her energy shields, it wouldn't stop a Lightsaber or a blaster bolt but it was more protection and made Lily feel safer which was a positive.

Why were the Sith here of all places?!

 

[Darth Solipsis]

DARK LORD OF THE SITH | GALACTIC EMPEROR
RUINS OF AKAR KESH - TYTHON
Valery Noble | Kahlil Noble

​

In the skies above Tython, the air quivered with the echoes of TIE fighters, their engines roaring as they sliced through the atmosphere. Symbols of Imperial might. Of Imperial glory.

A means to an end.

Amidst the clamor of war machines, a more ominous presence loomed. The sky itself seemed to cry out, a spectral wail that reverberated through the Force.. It was the reopening of the Wound, a tear in the very fabric of reality, a scar borne from the ritual of the Sith'ari. This aberration, this rupture in the natural order, pulsed with dark energy, a beacon calling forth the resurgence of his faithful. Through this rift they emerged, the harbingers of his will made manifest descending upon the Core Worlds. The Empire had come, their arrival heralded by the agonizing cry of the sky itself, a portent palpable enough for all who could touch upon the Force to hear.

The Dark Lord of the Sith stood amidst the ruins of Akar Kesh, the very ground upon which his grandest ambitions had crumbled to dust nearly two decades ago. The air crackled with the residue of ancient power, a lingering echo of the cataclysmic ritual that had nearly torn reality asunder. Here, in this desolate place where time and space had trembled at his command, he had suffered his greatest defeat.

Memories flooded his mind, visions of the battle that had raged amidst the ruins. He could still feel the searing heat of lightsabers clashing, the thunderous roar of Force energies colliding in a tempest of chaos. It was here that Rurik Fel and Ryv had made their final stand, sacrificing themselves to thwart his ambitions and cast him into oblivion. But even as he stood in the shadow of his own downfall, the Sith'ari felt no remorse, no regret. His gaze swept over the shattered remnants of Akar Kesh, a testament to the might he had wielded and the enemies who had dared to challenge him.

He would finish his great work, correct the Great Error. He would remake the galaxy in his own image.

​

​

 

[Darth Wallgof]

Location:
Outfit: Sith Armour (made from Beskar)
Equipment: Single Lightsaber
Tags: Talon Barova

The time for the Jedi was over.

They had gotten too long indoctrinating the galaxy in their lies and corruptions. Lived fat lives that held them in ivory towers. Claimed titles to rule over people while sneering at Sith and their allies for being tyrants for doing the exact same thing. It was enough to make Wallgof sick to his stomach, thinking of the Sith's revenge at hand was all he could linger on to prevent him from vomiting in disgust at what the Jedi allowed to fester in their years of dictatorship.

Stepping onto the ground of Tython, Wallgof breathed in deeply through his helmet, taking in air, he smirked widely as he knew that they would be demonstrating to the Jedi today that their flimsy empire called the Galactic Alliance would crumble down all around them. It was an era of Sith, it was time for Order, Strength and Power to be granted to the galaxy. Wallgof stepped towards the temple, bringing the darkness, the shadows, the pain of those who suffered under the rule of the Jedi. His anger honed into a blade that would slice their righteousness asunder.

Lifting his hand, he blasted his way into the Je'daii Temple, his eyes looked around. Knowing that this temple needed to be burnt down, that any and every Jedi temple or Je'daii temple needed to face destruction. Relics of their past did not highlight the fact enough that Jedi always fail. That their methods never ensure peace. That they cannot win.

There will always be darkness, there always had been and there will be even when all the stars die out.

It was the same with the Sith, they would always be there, even when the Jedi finally die out completely.

He ignited his Lightsaber and hunted for the first Jedi that he could kill. This was going to be a glorious day, he was thrilled to actually be a part of the first step towards the demise of the Jedi ways.

​

​

 

[Casteel Mer'taal]

The Fields - Sports Bar
Empress Teta - Cinnagar
Interacting with: Makai Dashiell

In response to Makai's lighthearted remark about their unexpected bonding time, Casteel couldn't help but offer a sardonic roll of his eyes. "If solitude was your aim, Makky, an orbital bombardment was hardly necessary. A sports bar suffices quite well."

Amidst the chaos, the atmosphere was fraught with panic, with patrons and locals alike gripped by fear. Exiting the establishment from the second floor, the magnitude of the chaos became apparent. Escaping offworld was no longer an option.

"A ship won't be of much use with the planetary shield active," Casteel retorted to Makai, his voice crisp and composed as he trailed behind the Dashiell. With a decisive gesture, Casteel directed Makai's attention skyward, where the shimmering blue shield repelled the bombardment from above. The few hostile vessels that breached the shield hinted at a coordinated attack, the motives of which remained shrouded in mystery.

Fortunately, for those familiar with Teta, contingency plans were in place, including safe houses to weather such attacks should the shield falter. In his mind, he recalled conversations with the late Alric Kuhn. The apartment that he had on Teta --- and the reinforced tunnels and safe house routes that could allow them to bunker down until it was safer to exit.

"Can you access any intel on your chronowatch?" Casteel inquired, acknowledging Makai's advanced timepiece, which was equipped with holonet capabilities. While Casteel relied on traditional methods, he recognized the advantage of Makai's technology in gathering critical information amidst the turmoil.

"We need to get to my apartment or Alric's....route to the safehouse there." Danger would not sell it. She kept it for the girls should they desire to visit Teta and be surrounded by their father's home and culture.

Casting a glance towards Makai, Casteel's lips curled into a sardonic grin, a hint of sarcasm tingeing his expression. "I trust you're delighted. It seems you've succeeded in securing my undivided attention for the foreseeable future."

 

[Aris Noble]

Tython was home to some of the oldest records of the Force in the galaxy. The Je'daii Order, their war against the Infinite Empire, there was plenty of information to be shared, as well as the feeling of the Force all around. Or so Aris was told. Without being able to feel the Force himself, he could only trust what he was told in that regard. But everyone he knew said the same thing. Tython was alive in the Force.

But it meant he wouldn't be much help in actually explaining what was going on. Which was why he asked someone else here today. He smiled faintly as he looked to Braze. They'd only just made up after their argument the other week, but it did make him happy to have a friend here. To meet another friend no less. "She doesn't really know what the Force is, by the way. I explained what I could, but well.."

He didn't further explain.

"She should've just arrived. Don't uh, try not to stare."

That had made her uncomfortable before. It was only natural that he asked that, right? He frowned in thought, but once they'd arrived at the space port it wasn't hard to find her. He smiled ever so faintly as he raised a hand to wave. She was a bundle of bright colors this time, which only made his expression brighten further. She really was excited for this, huh?

"Hey, Zaiya, over here."

Zaiya Ceti | Braze | Lord Kalrath

 

[Auteme]

Aerarii Tithe ​

Auteme rested her head on her fist, looking out the viewport at the battle. Furious as the activity aboard was, they were in little danger; the Chancellor was not meant to be thrown into space battles. Instead her gaze was locked on the planet below. She had not been to Tython in decades. Even now it felt distant.

"You're already here," she replied to his request to join her. Still, she gave him the courtesy of a gesture at one of the nearby seats at the table, raised above the main area of the bridge where they received updates to the variety of terminals surrounding them. Auteme's place was not to issue orders here.

Aerarii Tithe's presence had, initially, grated at her, as it usually did. He'd aged with the grace of a trillionaire, but aged nonetheless. His entrance onto the bridge gave her the impression that he was mostly just excited to have someone new to talk to. At first she'd eyed him with her usual suspicion, wondering if there was some play or scheme he wanted to involve her in, but she felt the swirl of thoughts in his mind were a cyclic obsession with credits, like the blaring signs rotating stock price changes in the Alliance's stock markets.

She let him be. Her mind was elsewhere -- a cord, black like sludge, wrapped around her foot, snaking out into the void to Tython, where Darth Solipsis was reported to have landed.

Her nails bit into her palm.

"I thought you'd abandoned politics," she cut him off. "I'll tell you now, the Trade Federation and its friends should be paying their representatives more. They might try a little harder if they did."

 

[Detritus Ren]

Location: Enroute to Tython
Objective: 3
Allies: NSO, Knights of Ren. Etc
Enemies: New Jedi Order. Jonyna Si Ko Vuto Taam Moghul
Equipment: The Ren (Lightsaber), Orbalisk Armor

Detritus could feel the void of darkness and death call to him from the deep reaches of the Core. He had over the past weeks made adjustments within the ranks of the Dark Empire, coming to learn the truth of his purpose, and like his Father before him was bound to the cruel master that had been pulling the strings since the very beginning. Darth Solipsis had returned from the depths of Hell to correct the great error of the divine work that had been resumed once more. Since his reprimand at the hands of the Dark Lord of the Sith, would the Shadow Priest be used to further Solipsis's grand designs for what would be known as the Great Rebirth, part of the design would be for Detritus to venture to the Deep Core to follow this path of darkness, wondering if Solipsis was either teaching, or testing. The Master of the Knights of Ren would follow this sickening aura that compelled him to go deeper not knowing what he would find.

Detritus would set about on his great odyssey into the depths of the Deep Core. He would brave through the treacherous hyperspace routes, with the dark aura growing dimmer with each step closer. Through most of the trip would Detritus pray to both the Shadow and the World Eater hoping for safe passage through the narrow pathways to Tython. After what seemed to be days would Detritus's ship the Night Vulture would drop from hyperspace over the world of Tython. Already on his Nav Computer could he detect several signatures. Detritus would fasten himself into the pilot's chair as he activated the Vulture's cloaking systems in order to descend to the surface undetected.

Upon reaching Tython would the Master of Ren feel a deep void unlike any other. He could feel death or the echoes of death through the Force. He could feel as if life itself had swirled down a dark vortex, but never exactly going through the threshold. Everything had felt warped by the Shadow itself. Not only that, but there was something familiar that would call to Detritus. Something he felt down there that had beckoned him. Gripping the control yokes tightly, he would guide the Night Vulture on it's descent towards the surface.

Smoke billowed past the fiery engines of the Night Vulture as it descended through the atmosphere, and towards the ruined surface of the world. Detritus would allow the darkness of the world to guide him. He was flying closely by instinct alone as the Force was his guide. Slowly the Night Vulture would find a landing spot close to a cliff's edge.

The landing ramp would lower, and slowly following the hiss of steam that accompanied the ramp's lowering would Detritus follow soon after. The Orbalisks fed deeper into his body, as the sickly darkness had completely enveloped Detritus. In his mind's eye would he get flashes of a battle between a woman with a purple lightsaber, a man with her wielding a green blade, against a foe of great strength that possessed an aura similar to Detritus's own. In a flash was he put back into the present, only to feel the teeth of the crustaceans burrow deep into him, feeding off the dark energies that had surrounded the planet and fed it through the symbiotic conduit they shared.

Detritus would grit his teeth painfully, as his eyes behind the visor of his mask that kept the creatures at bay marveled out towards an ancient structure in his sights. The structure was a beacon of light in the darkness. A candle among the abyss that caused Detritus's anger to boil. His anger threatened to be overtaken by the Orbalisks would Detritus clench his eyes shut. Grasping the hilt of the Ren tightly to his grasp would he utter a prayer along with the first few steps towards the structure on the horizon. "In the darkness of the void, we find our purpose. In the hunger of the World Eater, we find our strength. Let me walk the path of annihilation and renewal, for the wake of destruction, new beginnings shall emerge. Embrace the chaos, for it is the crucible in which our true selves are forged."

Detritus would say through his pained breaths, as his boots stomped into the ruined surface. His eyes focused narrowly on the ancient structure, the very sight of it had disgusted him. One thing was certain among this void, that the light had to be extinguished by the shadow entirely.
​

 

[Ignacious Korvan]

The Imperial Despot​

Location: Aboard the Tiberius
Tags: Zethran Cott | Marlon Sularen | [OPEN]
Objective: Tears of Ashla

Spoiler: Author’s Note

The depiction of Erskine Barran in this post is a mental facsimile, done with the approval of the character’s writer.

1st Post

The Galactic Alliance’s day of reckoning was finally at hand.

After decades of plotting, scheming, and active maneuvering; the downfall of the Alliance’s brand of cancer lay on the horizon. Yet amidst such an auspicious day, the Despot could not help but feel distant. As the weight of the moment would rest upon the shoulders of any other man, Ignacious was not present aboard the bridge of his command ship, even though his body was itself standing upon the observation deck. Although he was staring out into the void, which was dotted with flotillas cobbled together from what remained of the Imperial Remnant’s battered navy - his thoughts were not even focused on battle tactics or the grand strategy of the Dark Empire’s final moves against the Capital once their incursion was successful.

He was in a room adorned with all manner of hunting trophies; reminiscent of the hunting lodges of old Galidraan. A roaring fire was ablaze within a baroque hearth that dominated the far wall, and a mantlepiece housed what could only be described as... memories. He was the lone object within the room that did not appear to belong, adorned with his snow white uniform and a tactical breastplate pinned across his chest. But the other figure within the room, of all other things, belonged. “You did it now lad.”

Although long dead, the voice was unmistakable as it echoed through Ignacious’ mind. Erskine Barran stood before the fire and gazed into the flames. A faint smile played upon his lips, but the same air of authority set the tone within the room before a word was ever spoken. Ignacious stood straighter, and his brow creased ever so slightly in the way only Erskine could manage. Erskine was one of the few men Ignacious had been truly deferential to, and who was able to cow the Despot on more than one occasion. But that was nearly a lifetime ago, when Erskine was the Lord Regent, and Ignacious was but a Grand Moff.

Erskine’s face was younger, of the age it was in the waning years of the revolution as reconstruction began amidst the chaos of the war. But his voice... was hard as nails, of the same tone that Korvan experienced during their fateful meeting following Ilum. “You did it now - turned your back on everything you stood for.” Erskine’s gaze turned upward to appraise his one-time pupil. There was a time when Korvan would look into Erskine’s eyes and see the gaze of a mentor who withdrew his full support by virtue of forcing Korvan to aspire further and reach higher. But the fire in his eyes was, not that of a proud mentor, but of a vengeful revenant that reached from beyond the grave and into the Despot’s mind. “Rurik would have skewered you where you stand for your betrayal.”

“Rurik is dead.” Ignacious’ voice responded. It sounded distant - as if he were listening to himself through several meters of water. “...and so is his Empire. I am what remains - what I have built remains. What Rurik would have done is irrelevant.”

“And so you would cast away his legacy so cheaply? Irveric’s legacy...?” The fire in Erskine’s eyes burned a touch brighter, yet his voice grew quieter - adopting the tenor of a father chastising his son. “My legacy?”

Silence prevailed between them. Korvan hesitated to answer the Lord Regent, and he was forced to consider why. Why did this all matter now, after bending his knee to Solipsis and doing so many things others thought unthinkable in the name of ‘survival’?

“My lord?”

Suddenly, Korvan was no longer in the lodge on Galidraan, but rather the bridge of his ship. One of the bridge officers stood off to the side and slightly behind him, clearly wishing to keep a respectful distance from the Despot. “What is it?”

“Sir, the portal will be opening momentarily. Shall I order the vanguard in place?”

Ignacious appeared distracted as he slowly nodded away the stupor that seemed to overcome him. But soon enough he appeared more like himself. “...Yes, but with one amendation. Order Admiral Sularen’s contingent in first, with Admiral Cott to support him, with orders to secure the emergence zone around Tython for the main force. We shall remain in reserve.”

The officer bowed. “It shall be done, my lord.”

Yes... it shall be done.

It was then that the reality of the moment began to weigh upon the Despot. The reality of the plan coming to fruition started to fill his thoughts - yet in the back of his mind, a memory would remain like a shard jutting from the back of his skull.

 

[Denn Verdan]

Objective III - Clash at Kaleth​

Denn Verdan had come to Kaleth looking for tranquility. It had become increasingly difficult to find his peace of late, with conflicts springing up as quickly as they were extinguished.

Still, it had been a good visit. He had practiced his saber work in the mornings, and meditated upon the temptations of violence in the afternoons.

The desire to solve complicated problems easily was always present. A craving for simplicity often urged a violent stroke, which might solve in an instant issues which could otherwise take days, weeks, months, or even years.

But of course, it was never just one stroke. One killing. There was always another. The need for killing was like a flock of Porgs, quickly breeding and occupying every available space. Soon, your life could become dedicated to killing.

That was the danger. Knights of Peace could so easily become Knights for War. Fighting could become the whole of their lives.

Unfortunately, there was not always an apparent solution to this conundrum. Sometimes, evil came upon the world unbidden. Sometimes, no amount of peaceful action seemed capable of holding it at bay.

Did one simply surrender to evil, out of the fear of doing evil? Was that not also an evil?

Denn meditated on this, until he felt a disturbance in the Force.

His eyes sprang open as a bell started to ring.

The Temple was in Danger.

Evil had come once more.

---

[Open]

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Zaiya Ceti Aris Noble Lord Kalrath

"Try not to stare," Braze inquired, with a frown, his brow momentarily knitting. "Why shouldn't I stare? What does she look like?" He continued, padding alongside Aris. "She's not like... Loomi or Jasper Kai'el , is she?" Braze pondered, recalling his unease around limb replacements. Then, he clamped his mouth shut as his gaze finally landed on her. He stared unabashedly for a few moments before blinking away his astonishment and whispering to Aris, "You didn't tell me we were meeting a princess." before padding up to Aris' side, Braze stepped closer to Aris, his posture transforming as he adopted the most charming smile he could attemmpt. He executed a cordial bow, his hand sweeping through the air with a flourish as he dipped in a fanciful display of respect. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Zaiya, I'm Braze." Braze chirped. He was dressed in black and white robes, his left arm was snugly secured in a black sling, hinting at his recent trials.

"Welcome to Tython," he announced with a hint of pride in his voice. "The galaxy-renowned birthplace of the Jedi Order."

Braze ran his fingers down his braid and moved to thumb the little black feather iwth a red tip that was adorned in his braid, setting his hand to task.

 

[Makai Dashiell]

EMPRESS TETA

Oh, so those weren't zombie klaxons? Planetary shields activated, Casteel directing his attention to the sky, it seemed they were caught in in some sort of battle. If Makai had to bet, he would say Jedi versus Sith. If there was something calm and peaceful in the galaxy, wait five minutes, because Force users were bound to come along and destroy it.

Seemed this week their sights were on Empress Teta.

"No zombies. I think I would take them over a complete traffic lockdown. Great way of warning the civilians on the ground, I mean, beyond what the government is doing with the sirens."

As he checked his chrono for messages and alerts, Makai was relying on Casteel to navigate them around safely. Shelling hadn't quite reached their position yet but collateral damage was already starting to occur ; blown out windows, pieces of high rises falling off, power spotty at best. As he looked through the messages on his chrono, Casteel was prattling on about safehouses. Makai had a much bigger problem then shelling or safehouses or what may lay ahead for them.

(( Sir, I've received alerts regarding Empress Teta. Your schedule indicates drinks with Mister Casteel Mer'taal. Sources have spotted shelling near your location. Bridges are out and air traffic is shut down. Please advise current situation and status. Biomarkers indicate you are alive. ))

That was five minutes ago, when the chaos started in the sports bar with the blow out windows. The message had only escalated from there.

(( Sir, I've gone ahead and informed Mistress Arceneau that you are alive but not responding to my messages. Status indicates some HoloNet and all of the Dark Net is still online. Advise of status so I may update. ))

No, no no. The last thing he needed was the meddling droid ; who should be securing mining contracts, informing his fiancee he was alive but with no context. There were times Makai wondered if Thirty-Seven needed new or additional programming. This was one of those times.

[[ Thirty-Seven, busy trying to get to safety. Just focus on the mining contracts ]]

An almost immediate reply.

(( I have been programmed to do more than one task at a time Sir. ))

Head snapped back up to the sheer chaos surrounding them. He picked up his pace to walk quickly at the blonde's side, wondering how far these underground tunnels and safehouses were. They were walking through a relatively wealthy area. No one with money was going to be running far in order to escape.

"Bridges are out. Hope you live close by Castie."

 

[Rath Nihro]

M A Y H E M

Allies: KN-967 , TK-818 , Thomas Barran , Arminius Kroeger , Jon Hojkstra
Enemies: Ashley Nevermore , Gress D'ran
Engaged: Elise Ahana-Gwyneira

Corrupted eyes of yellow peered through the dark mask over the devastated city of Cinnegar. The smell of ash and smoke filled the air as he rested on a fallen column that served as a bench for the time being. His body ached from the tireless fighting ever since the planetary shielding was erected. Of course, Rath knew it was only a matter of time before the Dark Empire punched through the shields, but by then the men and women of the Stormtrooper Corps would be eliminated. Even now, the distant rumbling of explosions echo throughout the streets like reminders of the warzone.

Surrounding the lone figure was a multitude of corpses that littered the remnants of an office building. Bodies that belonged to the Galactic Alliance as they plotted to ambush a convoy that would be crossing through the vicinity shortly. The ground forces were short numbered and outgunned with the lack of air support. Removing obstacles such as this cell was only a step towards victory.

”It is unfolding as you have predicted it would.” A distorted feminine voice spoke from behind the dark warrior. His eyes briefly flashed in recognition as his heart stirred. A deep pain that continued to fester in his soul. Materializing next to him was the ethereal body of a woman garbed in a simple tunic befitting for a Jedi. Her long hair of silky smoothness cascaded past her shoulders like a river of darkness. Yet Rath dared not to look at her. For he knew that he could not look at her without feeling shame for it.

”I wished it were not so, but one way or another the Force would have its way. This tragedy could not be prevented.” Rath answered as his eyes had drifted downward to the rubble mound from collapsed walls that littered the ground. When he felt the same hands that he once found to be soothing, it was mixed with relaxation and sorrow at the same time. Yet the figment of the soul would only smile at the dark figure.

”Perhaps, but do not falter. I know you’ll make it right when the time comes.” Was there truly a way for Rath to make up for all of the lives he had claimed? While many saw the assumed Sith as the strong enforcer of the Dark Empire’s Elite, Rath could only see the countless seas of the deceased that stretched out into the void of his soul.

”I know, the most I can do for these people is merely mitigate the deaths and misery from both sides. This squabble between Jedi and Sith have gone on long enough for my liking.” To say that Rath despised both sides was an understatement. Both were merely pawns of the greatest manipulator to exist, and that was the Force itself. Perhaps he could not comprehend the full effects each side of the Force would have on one mind. For Rath being numb to such things was both a boon and a curse.

Some time later...

Like a tide of ash and flames, a monster of living fire emerged from beneath the troop’s feet as the Galactic Alliance was merely moving with purpose in mind. However, emerging from the depths was a terentatek as it maliciously tore through the ranks with volcanic claws and bathed the streets in liquid fire. The screams were only temporary as only a few managed to recover and shot a few bolts at the monster before they met their demise. Looking down from above atop a building was Rath. Garbed in his armor with his face hidden by the mask of druetium.

”Ich uwichul nu chilil ukuwi yu ikijuwi” The terentatek looked up at the dark warrior with a charred humanoid leg hanging from its mouth. It obediently lowered its head as it grew still where it remained. As he switched the visual on his visor to sweep for life forms, Rath found several that had scattered in various sizes of groups throughout the city. He wagered that he needed to get the Alliance’s attention somehow, and what better way to do that than to plant the notion of survivors? Everyone liked playing the hero in the stories after all. Through telekinesis, Rath pulled a flare from one of the deceased troops’ corpses. As the small container floated before him, Rath concentrated on the high molecules around the flare before violently shooting it high in the air. The force of the telekinesis created a resounding thunderous energy as the flare flew high in the air over the buildings before it began to slowly descend in its dazzling yet soft red light. Now all Rath had to do was patiently wait for any stragglers to come investigate.

 

[Talon Barova]

”This is not the Jedi that you are looking for.”

Tag: Darth Wallgof

Honestly could anyone find a decent drink anywhere on this planet of Tython? Because so far Talon could not find a single drop of alcohol anywhere and unfortunately he’s not supposed to drink on Jedi Temple grounds. Fortunately for the drunkard he made a best friend out of his beloved flask. Lights from the ceiling glitter along the chrome smooth surface. It was only a simple design as it no doubt contained something of liquid nature.

The very air around the dark haired Jedi gave off the aura of a drunkard. From his relaxed broad shoulders to his to the very strong scent of booze evident on his person. A strange notion given their dire situation, yet it was Talon who was placed in charge of defending the temple from invaders. So far a few Sith with a similar mindset had already try their hand at the assault as evident by the no small number of unconscious dark robed figures that littered the once grand floor. Talon was just about to begin dragging off one of them by the legs when someone else had basically knocked down the door.

Talon paused mid stride as he looked upon the figure with a look of reluctance before he let out an exaggerated sigh. ”Oh for kriff’s sake, you people just don’t let up do you?” With a comical thud as Talon simply dropped the unconscious Sith’s legs to the floor. He briefly stumbled as he kicked over a sliced remnant of a lightsaber to the side as Talon tried to step over the bodies. The tattered robes draped over one guy’s face that caused him to sneeze while catching up on the much needed sleep. Majority of them had their own injuries, mainly bruises from the looks of it. One looked like he had a black eye.

”I would offer you a drink before we get started, but so far you people have been very rude.” Talon commented as he reached inside his tunic and retrieved the chrome flask. He proceeded to take a swig of it before putting the stopper back on. He shrugged off the worn out robes as it fell to the marble floor. Showcasing signs of physical labor as some areas on his chest area and back were damp from the sweating. As he grabbed the lightsaber that was attached to his belt with his left hand, Talon looked upon the figure as he approached a safe distance from the newcomer.

”You certainly look like a fun sport. What’s your name, friend?” At least no one could say that he wasn’t civilized as he still had the flask in his right hand. While the hilt of the lightsaber was evident in his left hand, the blade was not ignited. Merely a measure of defense in case things evidently become intense.

 

[Zaiya Ceti]

Kaleth Temple
Interacting with: Aris Noble | Braze | Lord Kalrath

-

"Aris!" Zaiya exclaimed with uncontainable excitement, her iridescent blue eyes gleaming with joy as she spotted the silver-haired Noble. The gentle curve of his smile only enhanced the Lovalla's rosy-golden complexion, causing her skin to shimmer with delight. He was her first pen pal, someone who wanted to engage with her beyond the confines of academia. Meeting him in person again brought her immense pleasure.

As delight danced over her mottled spots and markings, vibrant cerulean blue hues with glowing aqua highlights raced over her skin. The natural bioluminescence gave her a soft, glowing aura, not only visually but also through the Force. With an excited wave of her arm, she greeted Aris with enthusiastic swings, her heart racing with anticipation.

[ Is that the young Noble? Good, let us make -- Young mistress! Please do not run!] Nana's alarmed cry rang out as Zaiya darted forward in her excitement, the nanny droid hobbling behind her in her attempt to catch up, Zaiya's small travel suitcase rolling along behind her.

"Hi, Aris, it's great to see you again," Zaiya exclaimed breathlessly as she came to a rocking halt in front of him, her multicolored hair flying all over the place. At the same time, her polished bronze earrings and half dozen bracelets gave a musical jingle. Though her proximity may have breached personal boundaries again, her excitement knew no bounds. She could feel a surge of energy all around her, her body tingling with being able to feel something like she had with Aris's kyber crystal again.

Turning her broad grin from Aris to the other young teen beside him, she couldn't help but unconsciously radiate pure joy and happiness through the Force. Aris would likely notice that her hues were noticeably brighter than before; perhaps it was the concentrated Force presence on Tython. Food for thought.

As Aris's companion performed a noble bow and introduced himself, Zaiya returned the gesture with a friendly grin and a melodious giggle. Lovalla cherished bright colors and extravagant displays, and Braze's flourish certainly earned him points in Zaiya's book. "Hello, Braze. It's a pleasure to meet you," she beamed.

Compared to when Zaiya had to tilt her head back to meet Aris's gaze, Braze was more accessible to meet his jade green eyes as he was only a few centimeters taller. Although his arm was on a sling. A whirl of concern would purse her brows and a worried gaze would rest on Braze as the teals melted into an ombre of orange and pale yellow hues.

"Oh no, you didn't have to bow when your arm is hurt," she told him, genuinely concerned for Braze's wellbeing. By then, Nana had managed to catch up, chiding the Lovalla as she said, [ You must not run, young mistress. What if you fall and ruin your robe? ]

There was no hiding the ripple of lavender in mild annoyance that danced over her markings - a new hue for Aris and Braze to discern - followed quickly by cyan flecks as Zaiya gave a mild roll of her eyes, saying wryly, "I won't, Nana. I can run just fine."

"Aris and Braze, this is Nana... Nana, this is Aris and Braze. Nana is here as my chaperone..."

Spoiler: Gear

Robe and cool jewerly | BCA - Solid State Hologram Tool Band | The Babysiter Droid AKA - Nana

 

[Casteel Mer'taal]

The Fields - Sports Bar
Empress Teta - Cinnagar
Interacting with: Makai Dashiell

Gratefully, Casteel's apartment wasn't too far away. With purposeful strides, the Anaxai guided Makai away from the sports bar. The fact that they hadn't settled the bill bothered the banker, and he silently vowed to ensure the expenses were covered as soon as they were out of danger. Whether the diner survived the attack was inconsequential to Casteel; it was a matter of principle.

Another distant rumble and the echoing blaster fire elicited a muttered curse from Casteel. "It's getting closer," he remarked to Makai, then adjusted his posture with a slight roll of his shoulder. "By speeder, it's about fifteen minutes to the upper district." The area around the sports bar boasted a blend of everyday conveniences and upscale establishments, including high-end fashion boutiques. That's why Casteel hadn't questioned the address when Makai mentioned it; he assumed it would lead to a more refined dining spot.

"However, with the planetary shield activated and local authorities occupied, it's unlikely we'll find available transportation." They could either opt for a half-hour walk or explore other means.

"You mentioned having a ship nearby. Can it access a rooftop landing pad?" If so, that would expedite their journey. "Otherwise, it would be best to procure... transportation quickly." that was Casteel's wry suggestion of borrowing a speeder.

In the meantime, Makai's worries were valid, as L3 received the incoming notice regarding the situation at Empress Teta, Makai's presence there, and that his biosignature indicated he was alive for the moment. Myra was in the middle of a meeting reviewing a new series of light products that they were in the process of prototyping. Aware that if he gave Myra the information regarding Empress Teta and Makai's involvement in what may be a potentially dangerous situation, he decided to defer the information until Thirty-Seven could provide additional information.

Telling her now would only send the heiress into a panic after the zombie attack on Celadon. It would be best to start the conversation by saying that Makai is okay and that he is in a safe place before telling her anything further.

 

[Alicio Organa]

Cinnegar, Empress Teta
- Sahar -
​

At least their end came quickly.

A squad of stormtroopers double-timed down alley after winding street after alley, halting at each cross-section to check their corners. They had managed to slip past the front lines of the Alliance, using the tightly-packed buildings to inch ever-closer to the planetary shield generator, avoiding patrols and priming thermal detonators. If just one of them reached the palace, the nightmare would be over.

Unfortunately for them, they were being stalked.

As they jogged down the dark alleyway, the squad's leader, and the man next to him, suddenly stumbled, a hand instinctively tapping the foreheads of their helmets as their minds were pierced. "Ah!" The troopers faltered a step. They were only distracted for a moment, but a moment was all their assailants needed.

Dark armored shapes fell upon the Imperials, crashing down from the tops of buildings like hawk-bats upon their prey. Without error, cortosis-weave vibroblades carved through betaplast. It was only a second or two of fighting, before silence filled the alleyway once more, accompanied only by distant explosions and yells.

Alicio surveyed the aftermath of their skirmish from his perch from an above building, an uncanny wind tossing his cape over a shoulder. His armor gleamed with distant firelight, as did his eyes- burning grey with thought. They didn't have much choice- Alicio and the Abzu were screening the back lines, catching would-be saboteurs before they breached the inner city. Every soldier they left alive would be a liability. There was no room for error. For mercy.

But he could mourn them, nonetheless.

Something caught his attention, then. A whisper, from the Future. With nothing but a stray thought, the Shi'ido Honor Guard bled away into the shadows, to secure the perimeter. The King of Alderaan let his presence in the Force bloom. He stilled, even as the energy around him began to toss and turn.

Come get me.