Invasion Heirs to the Empire | NIO invasion of TSE held Serenno and Ord Radama

[Loske Treicolt]

WE CEASELESSLY REVOLT
OUTER RIM | SERENNO | CARANNIA
WHETHER YOU LOVE WHAT YOU LOVE
OR LIVE IN DIVIDED CEASELESS REVOLT AGAINST IT
WHAT YOU LOVE IS YOUR FATE
NOT HUMAN

If Serenno’s name had been born from the typically serene landscape of the planet, its identity was changed in the streets of Carannia.

It was unclear when they’d transitioned from the shoreline to the concrete of the city. When the copper taste of blood had replaced the salty brine of ocean spray. When the scent of ash-filled their lungs in lieu of fresh air. Grains of sand and crushed seashells might still have been shifting, trapped, around the currents of the free-roaming sinews over her body that hugged her curves until action was required – the physical maximized – where their harmony was truly evidenced.

When they wanted to lash out and claw through skin, they did so in an instant. Another shadow of fear suffocated from the perimeters of the conflict that lined the streets of fanatics. When they wanted to extend to project themselves into a launching run, they catapulted between the narrow confines of the urban environment to wipe out more silhouettes that didn’t belong in this reality. If they needed to reinforce a section of themselves to strengthen their defences against an attack, their manufacturing rose to the occasion in layers. Ghosts were in her wake, indistinguishable forms felled and strewn in the disorder.

This union was as wondrous and dangerous as the Belsallian sea -–– breathtaking to observe, vast beyond measure, and strong enough not to be destroyed. Wave after wave, ever since that interrogation room above Ziost, had crashed against her. Eroding the strength of the woman within, knocking her down each time she stood up. She’d been knocked against several times until she finally fully submerged. Instead of drowning, the alien chemistry taught her to breathe underwater. They were each other’s lifeline now. The days of ricocheting between certainties and doubts were over –– everything was absolute and everything was theirs.

"What do you consider to be more?"
"Do you plan on being more than Raaf's attack dog? More than someone skulking around battlefields like everyone else here?"

If anything, the encounter on Ninn had strained the leash that had them tied to a single empirical necessity. That nagging node in the back of their mind reminded them that the galaxy had seen empires rise and fall. Individualism might be something more nuanced, for them to establish how brutally they’d grown and come to exist. The true wonder of their very existence and they could be the first of many, so long as there were more like them –– breed further from their infection. Their charge was much more selfish now.

In order to actualize the alluring conviction from Raaf, she had to fully embody that which everyone feared: That which nobody could control. True chaos and inextinguishable infestation.

become something the galaxy has never seen before.

This seemed good to them, and along the eastern oblique of the attack within the streets of Serenno, such cruel intentions would continue to manifest on the machines that broke the stones.

​

ALLIES |
ENEMIES | GA | NJO | NIO | Maynard Treicolt

 

[Rurik Fel]

M A N _ O F _ I R O N
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
LORD EXECUTOR
KNIGHTS OF THE EMPIRE
Iron Skin | Lightsaber

DOOM
​

The gates crumbled to make way for the entrance of Imperial might. Rurik was the first through the breach, levying his left arm straight and out before splaying the fingers of his sole organic hand. Around it he conjured a barrier through the Force which absorbed the initial volley that came from the way of the Dark Troopers. He continued his march in frigid indifference. Such was the stature of Lord Executor, inheriting the very same aura of death and duty that Vaulkhar emanated on the field of battle in the march of fire and blood through the Braxant.

Were it not for that lineage so tormented by darkness, Errant would be here at his side, following in the shadow of his father all the same.

Never the less of what was there and what was not, duty must be done.

One of the hulking Dark Troopers landed in front of Rurik, the Man of Iron casting his cold gaze in the infernal crimson eyes. The barrier he erected dissipated and he reached his hand out once more just as the Dark Trooper went to swipe its arm to grasp at Rurik's face it reered back as the shriek of metal emanated from the droid and Rurik held a clawed hand toward the automaton. Another shriek of twisted metal ruptured from its core before Rurik closed his fist and the midsection of droid collapsed in on itself completely before exploding before him.

Kicking the scrap metal away Rurik glanced the way of his two newfound comrades, narrowing his eye.

"These droids...rid of them. Forward." He all but commanded, the metal and argent of the Imperial Knights falling in line with him as they continued to carve their bloody path.

Rurik's half kin soon ventured off elsewhere into the Palace. It didn't matter, he had his sole and decisive aim set in his sights. The patriarch of Dooku, the man who sold the world. The man who thought of Rurik's life as nothing. He needed to extinguish this past if he was going to heal the present torment that ruled his life as it was.

He reached out through to the force to grasp another Dark Trooper in his ethereal grip, willing it toward him with a vicious pull before he'd will a miasma of energy around his hand, closing it around his fist before splaying his hand to let it burst out into the abdomen of the dark trooper, enough to rip the exterior armor pieces before he drove the argent blade into the exposed mechanical guts of the trooper, sending its lifeless metal skeleton to the marbled floor with a kick of his boot.

Something willed these troopers here, to them. He would find whoever it was...and end them along with the rest who'd so willfully lived in blind subjugation.

ALLIES | NIO | Lucien Dooku | Hans Rennagen | Kainan | Dorian Sicarrio | Dorin Nalju | Lilith Dooku | Adron Malvern | Tiadu
ENEMIES | TSE | Grand Moff Decimus | OPEN TO DISTRIBUTE TURBO

​

​

 

[UX-0626]

Location: Streets of Carannia
Allies: TSE ( Darth Strosius )
Enemies: NIO ( Willan Tal DECEASED Erskine Barran Konrad Bolter Silas Sunfyre )

UX-2008. UX-9213. UX-7245. UX-8124. UX-5228.

The list went on and on.

Those of her brothers and sisters who had made the ultimate sacrifice in service to his Eclipsing Mission, thereby attaining salvation. In stark contrast, hers was the lot of a shameful survivor, yet also a veteran of many arduous campaigns of which most, if not all of were failures.

Bastion. Helgard. Velmor. Ninn. Dromund Kaas.

The list went on and on.

Nevertheless, where the indomitable juggernaut of the New Imperial war machine went, the Sith answered. In victory or defeat, their resistance was inevitable, even if only to make the heretics pay for blood for every planet and settlement that they took.

The next on the list was Carannia. A war to be waged in the depths of a city, every building a battleground and every street a cemetery. Having fought on Bastion, UX-0626 had already seen what such a war looked like. However, as a sniper, such a distinct manner of war also created opportunities. It was in nests of burned out buildings, towers, and rooftops where the most prolific snipers made their names, prowling urban environments for unsuspecting prey. Assigned to cover @Alisteri Haxim’s group of Legionnaires and a squad of red-armored Shadow Fleet soldiers, 626 kept her distance from the enemy, while harnessing her pulse cannon to rain down fire on their positions. A held breath precipitated death. Lining up her crosshairs with the skull of a stormtrooper, she squeezed off a white hot bolt of fusion plasma, taking off his head and ceasing his existence in the mortal plane. Two more met similar fates soon after, struck down from afar with shots aimed for the head and chest, respectively.

When the rest were finally cleared, 626 released her breath, before picking up her cannon and moving from her perch, all the while opening her comms to answer the Acolyte.

“Copy that, I’m on my way down.”

Spoiler: Loadout

• "Taral" Sith Trooper Armor - Designation: UX-0626
  • Undersuit
    • UL-14 “Virtus” Class Underlay
  • Left Wrist
    • ACS-207 Cryo-Ban Gun
    • Wide-Beam Sonic Stunner
    • Universal Gas Launcher
      • Pink Vapor
  • Right Wrist
    • ACS-207 Cryo-Ban Gun
    • Wide-Beam Sonic Stunner
    • Universal Gas Launcher
      • Nagnol Gas
  • Energy Shield
    • Phase III “Force Avenger” Energy Shield
  • Boots
    • Whimsy Knife
• “Extinguisher” Precision Pulse Cannon
• FAE/M-01 “Scherezade” Energized Vibroblade
• PV-16 “Sunfury” Pulse Pistol (2)
• Impact Grenade (2)

 

[Ruek Tast]

Gear: Judicator (silencer equipped), modified E-11 sniper rifle, Sith-Imperial Legionnaire Armor, stealth field generator, vibro-hatchet, C-25 fragmentation grenade (x3), ion grenade (x3), flashbang (x2)

Tags: Open

"Have fun stormin' the castle!"
​

Of course the term wasn't that bad of a send off, especially to ones who thought the words "fun" and "storming" to go hand in hand. The gaggle of Shadow Fist agents kept close to one another, skulking though the sewers beneath the castle as they trailed the frazzled path displayed on each helmet's HUD. There were eight in total, faces covered in the same visage as one another, yet each unique in their experience. The Empire gave them unity and purpose; Their skills gave the Empire a deadly tool.

Their head, Robagn, pointed to the access tunnel ahead.

"Access point B, leads straight to tunnel A above. Cross, you and Ruek take the position in the upper foyer. Take their attention while we get our demo boys to their playroom." He didn't look back to them, knowing full well they'd obey orders.

Cross, an Ubese, nodded in agreement to Ruek. She clutched the strap of the old rifle about her chest and nodded back. Unity in silence. Tools didn't speak, they only performed their task, something Ruek was more than grateful to do.

The two snipers split from their group and headed to the access point, prepping their gear before entering the castle.

 

[Arctus Silmar]

The Shaper

The Iron Crown|| Whilstone of Prowess|| Whilstone of Acuity || Whilstone of Power||
Acharn|| Urfael|| Mithralian || Empyrean Gland
Voice Sample

The Shaper gazed out upon the palatial grounds of Serenno with something between cold indifference and an almost mirthful amusement. A wry smile gracing his lips as he mused on the fruitless efforts of their enemies. To so brazenly break their iron souls upon the unbending, eternal will of the Sith was a fool's errand, a dance of ineffable darkness against what? Reckless hate? Spite and mindless, singular trodding? Such was the way of beasts and The Shaper drew in a slow, unamused breathe at the notion. If they insisted on acting the beasts, then he was all too happy to oblige them their notions, their folly, and bring to them ancient animosity. Predator to simpletons and the unwary for as many millenia as he.

Leashing and shackling the Terentatek at his side had been no small feat, their innate resilience to the Force giving The Shaper a delightful quandry to solve with his alchemy. These beasts, much like another he had known not long ago, bore chains of bondage strengthened to resist the Force and a Jedi's weapon in equal measure. They ran the length and breadth of the six Terentatek's arms, over their backs, and came together on th front of their torsos in a circular metallic loop, each set of chains bearing wicked, barbed protrusions carefully crafted and placed to allow the Terentatek freedom of movement while making even potential proximity to the slavering creatures an even deadlier prospect than before.


In defense of the throne of Serenno The Shaper stood, a final obstacle in the Imperial forces advance, the beasts all around him hissing and spewing their venom on the normally polished floors. The foyer before the throne possessing a set of doors behind The Shaper's knelt form, sealed and locked, to bar entry to those who may think themselves clever to try and slip past. In addition to this The Shaper focused his will on projecting an obscuring cloud of darkness about the inner workings of the palace of Serenno, obfuscating and hiding the presence of the Terentatek in his wake, and should it comes to it even more directly limiting and disrupting any attempts at Force Stealth by the invading forces. From what he could sense Decimus' Dark Troopers had already engaged the enemy and, should the need arise, The Shaper would contact the Grand Moff to request more reinforcements of a similar caliber.


Perhaps, even, the Grand Moff would join The Shaper himself this day?


Enemies: NIO, GA; Lucien Dooku Rurik Fel Kainan

Allies: Grand Moff Decimus; Ruek Tast ; TSE and Allies

 

[DT-0800]

Objective: 2
Allies: Willan Tal DECEASED Erskine Barran Konrad Bolter
Enemies/Marked for Termination: UX-0626 Darth Strosius Laertia Io
Equipment: Storm Armor MK IV, REC-DC/03 Modular Blaster Rifle, DoomBringer Combat Scattergun , Lawgiver Pistol

Another battle had emerged for DT-0800. Learning from the combat experience gained on Ziost made him more than that of a typical soldier. Showing that to the higher-ups of the New Imperial Army that the Dark Trooper program had been gaining momentum when hearing of DT-0800 progress on the battlefield. Even despite 0800's model is a special case wrapped in regenerative living tissue. Following Ziost the Anti Force Terminator had joined up with the Blue Hearts, even being enlisted as an official member of the Blue Hearts despite not being a man. Here on out it was yet another front of the Third Imperial Civil War. Another world that had stood in the way of the Imperial War machine.

Armed to the teeth, as usual, ready to strike upon any foe that had come across his way. Accompanying one of the transports, he came with a group of the Stormtroopers and army forces within coming heavily under fire from the flak the defending Sith Legions were giving him. All the while DT wore his Stormtrooper armor, but unlike the rest lacked the helmet. Always remarking that it was hard to see out of then just having a basic visor of shades. While the rest of the armor pieces were more than sufficient, and with the weapons provided from a wide selection that Republic Engineering had offered him. He felt he was more than capable of accomplishing his mission.

The transport stopped, the sounds of explosion and blaster fire escalating. The dark interior was flooded with light. As soon as they stepped out several of the troopers fell to the blaster fire Many of them shouting, some crying as they screamed in pain DT remained unphased. His visor locking on to multiple enemy units. Even taking blaster bolts if only to guard the troopers that were being pinned down with suppressing fire. DT taking the brunt of the blaster fire, his body shaking a bit. But felt nothing. He couldn't register pain. He walked forward, the Sith Legions still pushing, while his data gained more information.

Search and Destroy mode....

Identifying various Sith Units, Neutralizer models detected...

Terminate all units, provide defensive cover for Imperial Forces...

It had come to no surprise of the Neutralizer Droids.... Though compared to the Paladin Battle Droid was for all intents and purposes an obsolete design compared to the makings of DT's Paladin Battle Droid class. They were not to be underestimated regardless, having learned that the hard way following Ziost and discovering they had some type of Mimetic poly alloy due to the Nanites. Regardless of the fact. With his blaster rifle he kept firing on targets he honed in on. "Get to secure positions, move up if you can. I will hold them as long as I can..." He said back to the men behind him taking cover. Wondering if the rest of the Blue Hearts were having difficulty with this all the same, and yet felt that there were more enemies next to the Sith and the droids.... Perhaps a target he would terminate.

 

[Willan Tal]

L O R D P R O T E C T OR
Major-General Willan Tal
1st Galidraani volunteers armoured infantry division
1st brigade 'fighting first.'
SERENNO

Tags: DECEASED Erskine Barran Konrad Bolter Lucien Dooku Darth Strosius Enedina Tal Arcturus Tal Fiolette Fortan Tulan Kor any other tags I forget shoot me a dm

Tals forces found the Sith before too long, entering the outskirts of Carannia with absolute fury, which was answered in turn by a brutal hail of blaster fire from various high rises and fortified positions, and artillery which pockmarked the urban surface and sent both Galidraanis and tanks into oblivion. Seemingly careful not to repeat the mistakes of the defence on Helgard, the Sith made excellent usage of the cities dense confines and turned many points into fortified fortresses that forced his men to fight step by step and clear the defenders out at high cost. Tal himself had used the same moves to significant effect at Bastions defence, causing casualties and bogging down Sith efforts to consolidate footholds in the Maxmillian heights.

As his men found out as they pushed deeper in, the Sith would not turn heel and instead fight for this city and every inch that the Galidraanis stepped on. But rather than enable themselves to be choke held in streets where Sith machine gun emplacements and snipers could leisurely pick Galidraanis off at will, Tal's units opted for a different approach of urban warfare that was seldom used because many a commander opted for relying on mass firepower. Tal continued to employ the tactics of softening up enemy resistance with antitank fire and extensive use of tanks as improvised bulldozers, developing a way to expose Galidraani soldiers to less risk: first, a Tank would ram the corner of a fortified house, opening a hole, and then a squad of men armed with flamethrowers and heavy blasters would arrive, where they would clear it of any Sith personnel found inside. Still, progress was slow, and with each position taken, the Galidraani casualties began to rise substantially by the minute.

His quiet observation of the situation was interrupted when a familar-sounding voice came through his personal comm speaker, taking him out of his study of Carannias urban layout and mapping. To say that it wasn't a confusing mess of blueprints and designs was to underestimate how big Carannia truly was; it was a small fortune Galidraani intelligence had snapped up the blueprints for the cities street layouts and sewer systems, even if was out of date by at least two decades.

<<" 2nd battalion commander to Major General Tal, our forces have took parts of the downtown and some of the tunnels beneath, but Sith resistance is stubborn and too well entrenched over.">>


<<"What's the Sitrep on their numbers?">>



<<"Unknown Sir and at a guess, I estimate maybe a division size accounting for this section of Carannia, maybe less it's hard to say, sir.">>


<<"I shall patch a line through to admiral Rausgeber, be on stand by until otherwise noted, Tal out.">>

He promptly ended the call, changing the frequency to match that of the infamous Presfbelt command. A group he knew all too well for their infamy and nefarious legend, seemingly of the type to make even a Sith fear the sight of the Prefsbelt banner. He did not envy those that Prefsbelt captured, though he was not oblivious to the irony considering his men proactively killed Sith, who surrendered or were wounded. At least that was a quick mercy compared to the life that awaited them in chains on some Imperial backwater.

"Lionheart one to Regent Force, this is a formal request from Major General Tal of the first Galidraani volunteers armoured infantry division, heavy enemy resistance in downtown, coordinates will be transmitted promptly, do as you must over."​

​

 

[Syd Celsius]

OOC: I am controlling the actions of all named Nuetralizers and Witches


Following: Nuetralizers

Cult of The Brain Demon

(Nuetralizer Theme Song Power Up)

(Theme: "The End" by The Doors)

NUETRALIZER SPECIAL OBSERVATION GROUP, TEAM ONE

MODIFICATIONS: ENHANCED SHIELDING, ENHANCED ARMOR PLATING (TORSO, SKULL, JOINTS), BACK SHOULDER MOUNTED ELECTROBOLT ASSAULT CARBINE, SERENNO-PATTERN URBAN CAMOUFLAGE

ASSAULT UNIT: 14 NUETRALIZERS, 4 CULTISTS

ARMAMENTS (PRIMARY): T-007 ION DISRUPTOR W/UNDERSLUNG GRENADE LAUNCHER (40 MM), DC RECHARGING COMMANDO BLASTER


SECONDARY: THIRTY CALIBER GENERAL PURPOSE MACHINE GUN (ARMOR-PIERCING), MERR-SONN PORTABLE ROCKET LAUNCHER, LASER DESIGNATORS, SEISMIC CHARGES

SNIPER TEAM: 14 NUETRALIZERS, 4 CULTISTS

ARMAMENT (PRIMARY): NIGHTSTINGER SPORTING BLASTER (DMR VARIANT), 308 CALIBER BOLT ACTION RIFLE (SILENCED), DC-17m COMMANDO BLASTER (ENHANCED AMMO CAPACITY)

DEFEL MIMICKER (Both Teams)

OBJECTIVES:

SOG ASSAULT GROUP IS TO CONDUCT OPERATIONS ON EASTERN FLANK, DISRUPT MECHANIZED UNITS, SOG SNIPER GROUP IS TO DESTROY TARGETS OF OPPORTUNITY AND PROVIDE RECON FOR ASSAULT GROUP

The small troop carrier burned through the Atmosphere of Serenno, down past anti air craft fire to the eastern flank where DECEASED Erskine Barran and Konrad Bolter were engaged in protracted fighting and the defenders were starting to get heavily battered.

"So how'd you get this assignment?" Lundgren The Nuetralizer asked the one in command of the Joint Assault/Sniper Team.

"Didn't you hear?" Bernthal the Nuetralizer asked next to him. "He survived Generis, where they were outnumbered. He even survived the Bombardment of New Adasta."

"I wanted a mission..." the Lead Nuetralizer, Martin, said. "And for my sins they gave me one..."

"Ahhhh, Generis...that was a fun time. Lots of Zombie Killing in addition to whatever the Stormtroopers threw at you..." Stevenson The Nuetralizer remarked, Three red streaks of Stormtrooper Blood marked diagonally across his chest, like most Nuetralizers that had survived more than one battle.

"I'll never forget that time Martin blew that massive Gas Pocket and set a large chunk of the city ablaze after the Bombardment!" Isacc The Nuetralizer gushed, holding the hand of a curvy, beautiful Twi'lek woman with orange skin, clad in a skintight white catsuit. She was a member of the Cult of The Brain Demon named The Arena, attached to this group of Nuetralizers at her own request after having seduced Isacc at Ziost. Martin didn't trust her, but they were technically on the same side. All the other Witches accompanying them were apparently manifestations of the evil minds all inhabiting her, spawned from her flesh in a horrifying and perverse Magical Ritual.

"The Behemoth did most of the work that day. That thing just screeeeaaams Easy Button." The Arena said jokingly with that velvet voice of hers. "Of course, I helped afterward with this big, strong Chrome Dreamboat protecting me during a ritual."

"Any time, my Sherbet-Hued Psycho-Killer!" Isacc gushed.

Martin's skeletal visage, head covered by a black, frayed bandana, turned to look at this, and his jaw went agape in disgust. This again. But whatever. The Arena was useful. As long as they didn't try and make out in the battlefield or anything suicidal like that.

"Look alive, Boys!" Martin said. "The NIO wants Carrania, and they got the means. BUT WE ARE THE NUETRALIZERS!"

"WE ARE THE STATE OF THE BADASS ART!" The other Nuetralizers shouted in unison as the Gunboat landed on an eastern defense line where Sith troops and a few other Nuetralizers squads were already dug in, having fortified this part of the street heavily and boosting the ranks of Sith Troops and Local Military.

Martin got out of the gunboat, his comrades and the Witches getting out behind them as a stray round from an enemy rocket hit one of the skyscrapers above them.

The Nuetralizers already present with the organic soldiers were locked in pitched battle, manning mortar and heavy machinegun nests.

"Hey!" Martin called out to one of the Organic Soldiers, all of them having to duck stray bolts. "Who's in charge here?!"

"Ain't you?!" The Organic called back, bewildered, before going back to fire his machine gun yelling "GET SOME!" repeatedly and with increasing levels of insanity.

"Yeah, he's in the Zone..." The Arena joked, firing a heavy bolt of lightning at an incoming mortar round and detonating it early before it could do damage.

Martin then went over to another gunner nest, where someone could be heard screaming at them from beyond their firing lines, hurling insults. Martin picked up a Gallidraan accent from the person shouting from an enemy occupied building, which had deployed thermal-vision obscuring smoke. Two humans and Nuetralizer with a grenade launcher manned the nest, the Nuetralizer wearing a spare allied helmet with the straps off and a cigarette clenched in its teeth, while the Sith Troopers fired the heavy machinegun yelling as insanely as their compatriots did.

"I can't hit him!" The Sith Trooper yelled, turning to the helmeted Nuetralizer.

The Nuetralizer with an unlit cigarette in its jaw looked up.

"This dude's starting to piss me off!" The trooper complained, ducking return machinegun fire from the smoke. "Nail the bastard!"

"DIE YOU FETHING SITH! YOUR PARENTS AIN'T CHIT! WE'LL STOMP ON THEIR GRAVES!" bellowed the enemy hidden behind smoke. Everybody took cover as more bullets were fired their direction.

"You got him!?" The borderline panicked trooper asked he ducked the machine gunfire.

"I hear him..." The helmeted Nuetralizer growled, angling his launcher, as he listened to the insults hurled by their attacker. "He's real close..."

He fired and the insults of the smoke obscured soldierwere silenced by an explosion and a death wail.

"Motherfether..." the helmeted Nuetralizer said in disgust, before going back to lean on the nest while the trooper went back to manning the gun nest.

"Hey!" Martin asked. "You know who's in charge here!?"

The Helmeted Nuetralizer looked at Martin silently for a moment.

"Yeah..." he said...though he didn't say anything beyond that.

Martin knew he wasn't getting any answers here.

"Alright, move out!" He told his unit. "Five meter spread! No sound!"

(Cutaway of the Predator challenging Dutch to melee combat with a roar)

The Nuetralizer Spec Ops team activated their Defel Mimicker's, rendering them as faint nigh completely invisible shadow like mirages, while The Arena and her Body-Spawn cloaked themselves with magic and the Dark Side and moved into the city to conduct recon and harrass enemy forces...

Meanwhile...

(BFG Division by Mick Gordon Plays)

Syd breathed fire on and sliced through enemy Stormtroopers with her Lightsaber. She didn't feel anything given that they were Imperials as she began murdering her way across the eastern flank, spearheading an assault force of tanks, Laertia's Nuetralizers, armed with the lethal T-007 Ion Disruptor against NIO Forces, and Serenno Defense Forces.

In the chaos of the battle, Syd as she went behind friendly lines for a moment to catch her breath, a Nuetralizer approached.

Syd couldn't help but be creeped the feth out by Laertia's murderous creations. But she couldn't deny they were very effective. She had been horrified at the results of their being deployed at Generis, where they had inflicted horrific and painful losses on the Jedi Forces. Syd had lay awake for 007 nights after that, wondering how she had so badly failed Laertia. That was for her, when trying to force the GA away from warring on the Sith to focusing on the Bryn'adul had stopped making sense.

And yet...

Syd was still conflicted.

On the one hand, Laertia still had a bit of a point...The Jedi Order would likely have never listened if she had tried simply debating them. Syd saw how they acted.

They NEVER listened when it came to the Sith. They were always the ultimate enemy, end of story. They never brooked an obstacle to fighting them, which is why their denouncing of Laertia ever since their defeat at Generis had only grown more vehement. They NEEDED to fight the Sith. They were ADDICTED to fighting the Sith--

Was Laertia addicted to opposing them?

"Master Celsius!" The Nuetralizer said disrupting her train of thought. The fiery red head turned to the skull faced droid.

"What is it?"

"My boys spotted a Paladin Droid embedded with a Stormtrooper Unit in the Blue Hearts! We wanted to take a crack at him!"

"No. You're better spent killing weaker enemies!" Syd said. "I'll face it..."

"Alright, boys, lets keep up the assault!" The Nuetralizer called to his brothers, beginning to direct tank fire on cataphracts and Walker units, while Nuetralizers in TIE Interceptor starfighters mercilessly strafed the surface ahead with green laser fire, the ground forces trying to be as aggressive as possible to keep most focus on them.

Syd however, was breathing fire as she flew at high speed with the Force, roasting Stormtroopers, getting closer to DT-0800 , who it seemed had already taken out a few of Laertia's sons...

 

[Arcturus Tal]

Ships: 3 Cuirassier-class cruisers, 3 Dragoon-class frigates, 3 Inceptus-class assault ships

No Quarter

In orbit above Serenno...​

The vacuum of space seemed particularly empty on this day, despite the conglomerate of ships spattered across the view of the Prodigal Sun. Something felt wrong ever since they had fought on Ziost. The deaths of the Galidraani at the hands of the Sith was a tough reality to face, and yet, here they were...

The crew was largely silent as they got to work, only speaking when absolutely needed. The air was filled with a sense of solemn wrath. Many onboard the ship had lost friends and family in this war. Many had seen their worlds fall victim to the lash. No more...

Arcturus was staring at the ships in the distance, still as a statue. He hadn't spoken much since the battle for Ziost. He had a lot to say, but not yet. His next words would be to their enemies.

Quintus approached him as he continued to stare out the window.

"Sir, we've successfully locked on to the comms channel of the Sith fleet. Ready for transmission."

Arcturus only gave a nod in reply. They sent a message out to the Sith fleet, accompanied by a hologram image of The Blood-Red Lion Banner. Arcturus let out a deep breath before sending the transmission.

"To all Sith forces, this is Commodore Tal of the Prodigal Sun. There was a day where I would have given you a chance to lay down your arms and surrender. A chance to go home to your friends. To your families. Unfortunately, you karked that up when you killed my people. The only warning you will receive on this day is one of impending doom. The only mercy you will have is a swift demise. The only reprieve you will find will be the imminent kiss of death. I hope you're prepared, because I am coming for every single one of you, and make no mistake...

there will be no quarter."

---

Gallius Orcana Willan Tal DECEASED Erskine Barran Zeradias Mant Jaeger Harrsk Fiolette Fortan Caarlyle Rausgeber Gunnar Madine Naier Rambeigh​

 

[Jaeger Harrsk]

H E L L I O N
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
COMPNOR | NIV TREGESSAR
ENGAGING: Zeradias Mant
B L U E _ M O N D A Y

​

<"They've locked down hangar seven."> Zion's voice crackled through the comms bringing Jaeger to a prompt halt in his pace.

<"That kark Rausgeber."> the Commissioner scoffed

<"Should we...blast through?">

<"No, I've got a better idea - we're not going after Mant.">

<"Sir?">

<"He's gonna come to us. Get any slicer we've got on board to bypass the ship's securities, override portside weapons and get the hangar open for Mant's arrival.">

<"Roger that."> Zion's voice seemed unconvinced but there was no protest.

<"And tell Orcana - if Mant moves in to board - keep his corridor safe from Rausgeber's cronies.">

<"Engag-">

<"Engage if he must."> Jaeger said assertively. If Prefsbelt and COMPNOR had to come to blows here, so be it. No cost was high enough to pay to pave the way for the New Order. Even if it meant consequences from the Imperator.

No more moderate actions.

It was time to cross the rubicon. Time for extreme measures.

Jaeger turned heel swiftly and headed back to the interrogation room.

"How's that towel?"

"Feth you." came her reply muffled under the wet towel.

"Nothing personal, kid." Jaeger shrugged slightly, removing the cloth of her face and tying it around her cynical mouth. "You just picked the wrong side at the wrong time and wrong place." he reached for a holorecorder and set it up facing Ren-Hua Mant . "Now let's send pops an invitation to the Tregessar. A good ol' family reunion just in time for Life Day."

Tight beam to Zeradias Mant; the stream went live flickering occasionally on the other end.

<"Reckon that's the something that belongs to you, Inspector General."> Jaeger highlighted Zeradias' former rank in the One Sith Navy as he gestured at his daughter beside him strapped to a conventional water board. Amber hair still wet from the recent 'session'. <"The Tregessar cordially invites you to a family dinner for two, entry from the portside."> he cut off the transmission.

ALLIES: NIO | Gallius Orcana | Fiolette Fortan | Arcturus Tal
ENEMIES: TSE | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Gunnar Madine

 

[Saraya Arenais]

T O ~ T H E ~ P A S T​

T A G | Adron Malvern | Elias Faivre | Lucien Dooku | Jan Beroya

Space was a silent enemy. When you dove into its components, travelling through its endless black embrace was both terrifying and eye-opening. On a ship, you were a mere inch or two or metal away from a horrific fate. Staring out into the empty darkness reminded you of just how small you were in comparison. How singular.

Perhaps it was the overwhelming dominance of space that made Saraya feel so reflective today. Or perhaps, and far more likely, it was the elephant in the room. The planet they were heading toward. The war that waited for them on its surface. The powers they would have to battle in order to succeed. It would be a lie to say she wasn’t nervous. An even bigger one to say that she wasn’t afraid, but in this situation, fear was good. She could use it to her advantage. Just as she had used the countless other emotions on her journey of mastering the dark side. It just so happened that fear was the best motivator of all.

If nothing else, she had learned that.

Adron’s voice drew her from the heavy space induced reverie. He spoke softly to the device in front of him, and though he had not spoken to her, she clung to his every word.

Serenno was not a regular topic of conversation where Adron was concerned. They talked of over endless glasses of wine when the alcohol had begun to make their fingertips tingle. Or he would mumble his tale in fevered dreams. Or he would be silent. Too silent. The type of silence that made Saraya both sad and curious. Of course, she was aware of the connection her fiancé shared with Serenno. She had heard the stories, shared the pain, watched as the tears, anger and sorrow swelled and swirled in his mind. Important would have been a rather diminishing word when describing what it meant to him.

Up until now, he had no desire to return there. It was as good as dead to him. The tragedies his family had suffered there were more than enough to cement the memories away somewhere they could not be reached. Saraya did not blame him for that in the slightest. There was nothing left for him there. Illyria was his focus. However, even knowing this, she did not find herself surprised when he rallied to his cousin’s call. Despite the past, Serenno was first and foremost his home. They would not ignore the chance to free it. To see it shine once more as it had in Adron’s youth.

As his hands came to her cheeks, Saraya offered her fiancé a kind smile. She rose her own hand to meet his and closed her eyes to the tender kiss placed upon her forehead. “It must feel strange to be back after so long.” Saraya responded as he drew her into his embrace. Though she said nothing further, her face scrunched slightly at the words he followed with. It seemed a dangerous train of thought to pin the success of his Illyrian rule on whether or not they were able to free Serenno. They had a far brighter future than that. It had grown far beyond the crumbling foundations he had left behind. It had grown into something independent, strong in its own right. The scars of what had been remained, but they served only as a reminder of how far he had come.

“You will.” She reaffirmed, but there was a clear note of hesitation in her tone. She was somewhat pleased when he turned his attention to Elias to give him further instructions. It meant she could retreat into the safety of the heavy black cloak that lay across her shoulders. It was Adron’s ancestry wrapped around her shoulders, yet somehow it made her feel safe. Far safer than anything she could have claimed from her own. She slipped her arm through Adron’s as he spoke. Another action that tamed the jittering nerves in the pit of her stomach.

Carannia loomed in the distance, and war loomed over that. Casting a far greater shadow than anything the impressive architecture could summon. They would land soon. To face a tragic past. To defend a bright future. To reclaim a home.

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

POST III
THE_STORMCHASER

1ST EXILED-GALIDRAANI DIVISION
2ND GALIDRAANI ARMOURED-VOLUNTEER BRIGADE,"BLUE-HEART BRIGADE"

OBJECTIVE 2: The Danger In Starting A Fire

ALLIES (NIO/GA): The Blood-Red Banner of Galidraan - Konrad Bolter Willan Tal Enedina Tal
New Imperial Order - Silas Sunfyre DT-0800
Galactic Alliance/Other - Vexander Graves Loske Treicolt

ENEMIES (TSE/CIS): Laertia Io Darth Strosius Syd Celsius Alina Tremiru UX-0626

CALLSIGN: BLUE-HEART ALPHA

Primary - Custom Blaster-Pistol (Right-hip Holster - left-or-right hand draw)
Secondary - Basket-Hilted Vibro-Claymore (Left-hip Sheathe - right hand wielding)
Last Ditch/Second-Blade - Fairbairn Vibroknife Fighting-Dagger (Right-hip Sheathe - right-or-left hand wielding)
Pocket-Weapon - Gifted Brass-Knuckles from the Guv'Nah (Both Trouser-Pockets - akimbo wielding)

The Fight For Carannia: Part 5 - "The Saga"

<"Heard loud and clear, General. Gone a bit longer than I'd like away from the field. We'll slam the Eastern flank without issue. I've marked our point of approach on the displays and we'll drop the Hammers shortly, happy hunting out there, General. Tyrant out.">

Pushing out ahead of both Bolter's and Barran's armoured lines were purely made up of rocket-launcher infantry, riflemen, engineers and a constantly-mobile quartermaster presence, the lattermost, who were briefly slowing to allow for better coordination between their movements (along with the APCs assigned to protect the Quartermasters - least likely to move their stored ordnance from location to location) and the general wide split between all three main elements. The main rocket-infantry and riflemen companies would fan out west to provide a safer blanket of cover for the main Archaisian push, the engineers, the quartermasters and the supporting-APCs would take the hardest hitting qualities clost to tal's left flank, with both split elements leaving behind a slew of hurdles for the SIth-Imperials; such occupied makeshift-FOBs and holographically-tagged IEDs/tank-buster landmines, and the inadvertent opening for the enemy center and west flank to be inundated by the singular coordinated push northwards of the NIO's best mechanised contingents.

<"Drest to Carrack Two! Pass it down the line - we have Nuetralizers on the ground! Our time to prove ourselves to the fallen is now! Serenno was the crucible we prayed for after all! Moving in on their flesh-and-blood allies on the flanks. Clear to punch through and fight for your life, Bhoy!">

<O'Neal to QM Two! I will, just focus on your micromanagements up there. Your Archasian officers are doing well on the rooftops so far, but you need to get moving eastwards, a'right bai? Learn from the deaths on Bastion, you don't have benefit of a bunker to run into. so don't be unadaptable, y'hear?">

<"Copy that, O'Neal. And from one warrior to the next, believe me when I say,"Your day is nigh upon your people, now of all points in history!". This is the day that Archais and Galidraan 4 prove their real worth! QM Two out!">

The forward-operating engagements to the north of both Erskine and Konrad's positions had incurred costs of their own, but it wasn't enough to stagger the frontal split in it's outward redirection, for their Sith-trooper and local-residence opposition had been run ragged in their attempt to push the advantage against Barran's units in the area; the Sith-Imperial opposition at the time was stretched thin, and such vainglorious attempts to both avoid envelopment and take the fight to Blue-Heart Brigade would be punished from the offset, just in time to set the stage for the arrival of both the Sith-Imperials' and the New Imperials' heavy warfighters. Between the three ACVs, Barran would be fighting in the center against the heaviest part of Syd Celsius' southward push, and he would have his smoothbores and ATs giving them hell from at least two kilometers away. The best part about using smoothbore barrels and shells was the wonder of treating them like rifles, adjusting for both wind-direction and distance in their attempts to make the old Battalion's trademarked dodgy pot-shots.

<"Gowrie to Blue-Heart Alpha! Got news from the Carracks an' Archaisians, good news on all fronts. Archaisian-commanded infantry pushing westward to link with Bolter's Archaisians, all going to plan but they note that our friend's going in smoothbore heavy this time! Who'd have seen that day coming, eh? An' more good news, Milord; the Nuetralizers have landed, we finally have another glorious scrap on our hands!">

'Barran to Blue-Heart Bravo! Somehow ah'm gettin' the feeling you're pullin' the plunger wi the shower-plumbing, now's no the time for windups. Only when victory is assured, or if it's an absolute belter; same rules apply here, always would.'

<"Ah know how they move, Milord. You're no the only one who had t'fight them on both Generis AND Ziost, ya dafty! They're here, their opposition tags match the ones we've faced before, an' ah know the intel's on point. Holographic footage is holographic footage if the recording and file-age are within seconds of each other's completion, the great scrap we all pray for every time is here,"So rejoice we must! For war is only worth fighting against the hardiest of foemen!", get some Thrast ben doon ye! An' show us what Barran does best! Blue-Heart Bravo out!">
Shugg would be proud as punch right now, if he were here.... Amalgam, you and I still have unfinished business!

Drawing his Vibrosword claymore slightly, the new ACV's driver spotted it through the glint that caught his eye in the rear-view mirror, but when their eyes crossed path through the same mirror, Erskine saw no annoyance or irritation, only a wide-eyed death-stare with a snarling smile of appreciation for the blade; so it looked very much like the driver was now observantly in on the Lairds' in-joke, and for once, for some reason the Brigadier-General didn't mind. Great slaughter was to follow, the NIO's tank-heavy warmachine was just seconds away from raining destruction on the enemies that surrounded old Dooku's palace, and the driver was sharing a fist-held-to-pectoral salute with his Lord-Commander when the moment arrived, though the driver was conscious of this and simply exclaimed, in his broad, lilting Tuath accent,'This wan's for Captain Shugg! Ah survived both Generis an' Ziost, an' guess what... So did you, Milord. For Lord Barran, for Lord Tal an' Tavlar, Imperator! We bleed for the New Order!'

'For Lord Barran, for Lord Tal an' Tavlar, Imperator! We bleed for the New Order!'
'For Lord Barran, for Lord Tal an' Tavlar, Imperator! We bleed for the New Order!'
'For Lord Barran, for Lord Tal an' Tavlar, Imperator! We bleed for the New Order!'

Barran couldn't deny it, that moment was something that tugged on his heartstrings, and in ways he knew were deemed acceptable; these crewmen had something to prove, shoes to fill, and a collective will to bring violent justice for the sake of the fallen. These weren't replacements, not by any means, and Erskine soon understood this when they began baring numbers where their fist-held-to-heart salutes had covered before, gleaming in white on their blue armour chest-plating as they stood to attention, awaiting the order to return to their stations. This wasn't fanaticism, this was something entirely different, and it didn't take long for the Stormchaser to realise that these men were hand-picked with a particular purpose in mind; to ably go into the storm with him, and without a single flinch in their attempt to weather each and every last one, like CSM Malcom, Surgeon-Leftenant Coyle and Jax Sloane did with the old ACV on Generis.

'Thank you, gentlemen. Back to your stations, get ready to move.... An' show your predecessors what you did to survive Generis and Ziost!'

The driver in particular obviously knew CSM Malcom, and was obviously grieving from Malcom's death on Ziost, and somewhat more acutely than Lord Erskine was. But like Barran, he was channelling his grief into something supremely useful. Gowrie had chosen well, but the best part of his choice was that he picked the least annoying crew to operate with, and not a single ego-centric personality could be traced in any among them. The new ACV One was something of a museum itself, as some parts of both ACV One and Two had been saved or repaired to fit on a vehicle aptly named,"The Saga", by the engineers tasked with the personal customizations. Given that it was the last off the production-line, the extra touches were put in with the old Battalion in mind, a roving relic of the Blue-Hearts' indomitable spirit that reminded everyone around that they could fight like the old Second Battalion did.

The left-slide door still had traces of Sloane's graffiti on it, though much of it had broken off in the engineers' attempt to bring the old armour-plated slide-door back to operation standards, and the LMG turret-nest, including it's slugloading machine-gun, from ACV Two would be retrieved for Barran in their salvage; the final touch, the one that seemed better-suited to it's driver, was CSM Malcom's steering-wheel, though that was the one part in the vehicle that looked like it had seen better days. The perfect steed for it's Lord to ride into battle with, the perfect vehicle for a glorious noble exile of the Galidraani court, and the Brigadier-General was readier than ever to put his enemies out of commission for good from within it.

<"Munsten to Blue-Heart Bravo! Friendly units dropping in behind us across the board, looks like smaller spec-ops fireteam splinters, Milord. Not bad, not bad at all! They're bringing some heavy handheld ordnance with them, spectacular!">

<"That's good news, Carrack One! Your riflemen can link up with some o' those splinters an' offer support that way now. Also - keep the comms clear, complete patching silence until the order is given to fire all smoothbores. They're only just tip-toeing off that 3k mark at the moment, so be patient an' keep chatter within each battalion. Blue-Heart Bravo out!">
Perfect timing, though. We like shooting out as far in as 2.75k away sometimes. Let's see if we have any smoothbore snipers yet....

Patching through to every mechanised unit to the west of Tal's flank, local and unit channels included, Barran lit every comm-link on his unit's monitor as he considered the timing of the order; 2.9 kilometers was never attempted by the Blue-Hearts in all the time he'd known their personal-bests, but a plucky tanker from the Fighting First of northern Galidraan 1 had been missing a target that kept eluding the AP shells on their way out of range, when a last-ditch effort to pierce the Sith-Imperial APC had succeeded at the closest estimate of 2.7 kilometers. The Lord-Commander knew that a more-experienced Cataphract crew had achieved this, so he knew to send the order roughly at the 2.82km-mark, watching the enemies' blips drawing closer as the numbers slipped down past 2.86 on the holographics.

'All units, load your turrets with the AT-shells! Smoothbore-Snipers may fire when ready, that is if we have any at this point! All other Cataphracts an' walkers, hold and prepare to attempt shots from 2.75k! Blue-Heart Alpha out!'
"Ne'er go forth to escape out the back unseen.", an' the Thrast bibliography jus' keeps on teaching.

Cataphracts were already firing off from both Konrad and Erskine's line in their attempt to create new personal-bests for their contingents, and roughly fifteen vehicles in total were firing off from the Blue-Hearts, with seven direct hits on the empty dropships that were veering towards a clear line of escaping ascent above the heads of some infantry units below. Even though some of the surviving landing-ordnance had escaped above the roofline of the broken urban boulevard, some had no choice but to attempt a low level escape before tilting the noses of their vehicles upward, but most of those empty vehicles perished to land on the hostiles below them; as mentioned before, a fair amount of Konrad's troops were attempting to smoothbore snipe a few direct hits on their enemies also, and to them - the remaining low-altitude escapees would be ground to explosive husks, as Tyrant Actual's gift for those Sith-Stalwarts unfortunate enough to look above their heads to see it close up. The mirth it brought out brought Erskine to his knees in wheezing fits for a short while, but he'd recovered by the time the projections lit up with the marking of 2.83km, though still slightly giggling with delight as he inhaled to roar over the same comm-cast.

'LET THE GAMES BEGIN!!!'​

​

 

[Halketh]

U N D E R W O R L D
V U L T U R E
THE 9TH CARLACI CORPS
THE TUNNELS,
SERENNO
[ x ]
_

It was a leisurely stroll that heralded the dread-toll of The Vulture's descent into spiraling madness, adrift in lost space beneath the rumbling toil of the forces above. A raise of his hand when the scheming plot for this world had been unveiled around the command table willed it to be so. It was his forces that would banish themselves unto the darkness willingly, boasting the distinctive advantage many others were without- a sightless leader. His sway over them was poetic, unshakable in its foundation established as he pried them from the jaws of Death. The bulk of Carlac's forces were dispersed amongst those above, offering aid to bolster the numbers with their nigh-reckless approach to combat, as wild as it was free.​

Carlac had established itself with the foregoing of convention. They waged war clutching the evasive reins of their own terms, commanding the rhythm of battle to flow as they so sought to drive it. A shallow retrospective on the swaths of soldiers garbed in bleached white and silver revealed their confusing systems to be nothing more than guerilla, where they latched onto advantage with ambush tactics and visceral strikes coordinated to relieve tension on their allies. When it seemed as though the Sith Imperial soldiers were gaining ground, Carlac, with its blend of hand-picked Force Users and skilled shocktroopers, seemed to crash down from the flank, unleashing terror in an avalanche baptized by red mist. And as swiftly as the tundra collapsed, it retreated, barely shedding its skillful numbers in the process. Their persisting mobility and lethality at close range was their song; efficiency, their virtue. Where allies may have come to expect to find the tamed unliving amongst these numbers, this planetary conquest would disappoint. Those who fought alongside of them on the surface, in those gnarled streets, were all living, breathing troopers.​

The same could not be said for those who marched in droves beneath their feet.​

At the head of this unseen collective moved their eccentric commander, draped in colorless fabrics mimicking the landscape of the world he governed. A polished, chromatic helmet rested on his cloaked head, offering nothing to the onlooker but a reflection of his surroundings, whichever way he determined to cast his head. A sickness carried on the dry, arid air churned by the motion of the drove, crying of its presence to any who may have entered. They were not alone in the darkness.​

The Vulture could see them.

And his flock hungered.​

The humming thunder resonating dully around them would be the tell of their location and nothing more. He would decide when to make his entrance, grand and proper as he should, when the time was nigh. For now, his attendance was necessary here. These tunnels, as complex as they were, provided exemplary routes for supplies, orders, and flank-bound assaults for the New Imperials. And he would be their keeper.​

A toll would be required for any and all who wished passage; one many Sith Imperials had come up short of in the handful of disparaging efforts to traverse through him. Those deceptive, silent undead hidden beneath reinforced stormtrooper armors had already tasted blood this evening. It was enough to tease them, nothing more, and it cast Halketh's mind to the clouds in hope the few Sith troopers who had stumbled into them had managed to communicate that the tunnels were occupied. Some part of him wished their hopeless brethren would scamper into the abyss to seek him out and put a stop to his insidious plan before he could enact it.​

The over-world would not remain safe from his hunger for long.​

A quiet evening was one he would always prefer, even if he found it so dreadfully boring, it was often better than the expected engagement in fluffing egos of his colleagues or ruffling the blackened feathers of Sith Lords with incendiary mockery- even if the latter was only a fraction more enjoyable than the former.​

"Soon enough," he whispered dreamily to himself, "soon enough."​

The dead marched onward, strangling the tunnels with their numbers- completely shrouded by the darkness of the underground.​

An underworld, of his own make.

There was no place better.​

ALLIES | DEAD MEN | NIO | DECEASED Erskine Barran Willan Tal DT-0800 Konrad Bolter Tulan Kor
ENEMIES | TSE | CIS | OPEN FOR DIRECT ENGAGEMENT

 

[Fiolette Fortan]

​

Fiolette stood on the bridge and smirked as she watched the fleets as they played out their games. She turned over her shoulder toward Kit. "Lock weapons on the nearest bloody Sith ship and blow it to the Nether." A command which Kit happily obliged. Fio would mourn for the poor unfortunate souls who were sworn to the Sith whether they liked it or not. It was funny to see, to hear the Sith swear that they protect their own. Because the truth of the matter was, they only protected themselves. The people on those ships? Fodder.​

​

The people on the ground? Fodder.​

​

Every single soul who didn't wield a crimson lightsaber, or prattled about with a glowstick of their own was simply fodder. "Keep firing, bring the fleet up formation, Zero-Two-Thames." Sure it wasn't anything special but the formation would be nice and surround the Sloane like pointed edges of a diamond bigger ships anchored the points and smaller ones made the lines. "Punch a hole in their line, ready the mortars."​

​

Dowagers and Hellstroms were the large anchors in support of the Sloane. The ships fired with their tubrolasers, projectiles and ion weapons creating a brilliant display of destruction as they flew toward their final destination. Fiolette walked toward the back end of the forward post where she had set a small burner and tea set. "Create a screen nothing punches this way, and if it does, we punch back - activate defensive measures." Many of the ships there had their own feedback technology to return shot for shot what they got. Fiolette looked toward the view screen for just a moment and then turned to focus on setting water into the kettle.​

​

Kettle on the burner.​

​

Burner on.​

​

Fiolette headed back to her command chair, hand over the back of it as she stepped beside it. "Acquire targeting solutions on any Sith vessel, as I've said before, nothing lives." A pause as she put a finger on her chin, "ah right." The old Admiral realized, "dear Kit, please send a relay down to the Blue Hearts, the Lord Protector, and my fellow Galidraani - the Sloane stands ready to send forth the Hand of the Great One upon Serenno to break the Sith, if necessary of course."​

​

​

​

​

 

[Hans Rennagen]

Location: Estate of House Terassi
Objective IV: Ensure the surrender of House Terassi the Eternal Empress
Writing with Ingrid L'lerim

​

The first two conditions were easy enough, so Hans accepted them with a sincere tone. These were losses no doubt outweighed by the capture of the Empress.

“If this house continues the neutrality they claim so dearly, they will have no more problems from us. I will be sure to inform the GA that they have been dealt with accordingly. As for you son: send him home. A boy has no place on the front lines.”

Those last words were stinging introspective, but to know that her son would not face the same fate as him but Hans’ mind a little more at ease.

It was her third and final condition that made Hans’ stomach twist in a knot. The Bryn’adul struck a nerve in him. It pained him many nights as he tried to sleep, to think of what the Draelvasier were doing to his planet. But it had been the Sith who had subjugated it first. And now the old empire was on its knees before the new, waiting for the final blow of the headsman’s axe. They were so close to retribution, and they had to make the Sith pay. For the atrocities on the Braxant, to restore peace and order to the Outer Rim.

Now they were so close to having the Eternal Empress in binds. If the Knights’ job had been finding allies of the Sith they had found the motherlode. Yet a triumphant moment was clouded with sadness. The Empress’ cold, solemn stare piercing Hans, silently telling him to search his feelings and find that she was right, to some degree.

“And for your last condition, I will deliver you to the Lord Executor and try my best to ensure you are heard.”

Was he lying to her? It felt like it. He wanted to end this without drawing his lightsaber, and it looked like he would, but at what cost? He could deliver her to Fel on a silver platter and beg for her safe treatment, but Ingrid was as culpable for this war as most Sith Lords. No one, not COMPNOR or Tavlar or even Fel had the obligation to listen to Hans that maybe hearing Ingrid out was for the better. But it was too close now for him to reveal his feelings on the matter, so he choked them back lest he forfeit the mission at hand with his conscience...

 

[Beric Layne]

F R O S T B U R N​

Objective: Resolve the Serennian Conflict without further Bloodshed
Allies: Grand Moff Decimus | Xeykard | Arctus Silmar | Jan Beroya | +TSE & Other Allies
Enemies: Lucien Dooku | Rurik Fel | Kainan | Lilith Dooku | Jerec Asyr | Aaran Tafo | Jin Kyrel | Dorin Nalju | Dorian Sicarrio | Tiadu | Ruek Tast | +NIO & Other Allies

Beric's meditative silence was at last interrupted. But not by blasterfire and warfare, no. By a single man, wielding a blaster and with the diction and manners of a common smuggler or spacer. Specifically, by his utterance of an expletive-amplified question: "The Feth are you?"

His eyes opened to see a tall Ithorian standing in front of him, surprisingly fluent in Galactic Basic. In his hands was a common blaster pistol, held at the ready but not pointed at Beric, an indication that the Ithorian would not be forthright with any aggression. In his kneeling positions -- both of his hands on his knees -- Beric studied the Ithorian for the briefest of moments, reaching out in the force to guage if the stranger had any ability to sense it. He was intrigued to find that this being had a strong aura about him, and even more intrigued when he noticed the lightsaber affixed to the Ithorian's belt. At long last did he answer the Ithorians question. "I am Beric Layne, Lord of Frosthall and envoy of peace. I have come to end this conflict before any further lives must be shed," was his answer, mellow and humble in its delivery. "And you are?" He asked the same of the Ithorian?

He would not get an answer, though, at least not yet. A hooded figure rounded a corner, entering the Throne room from one of the many undefended antechambers. Though the main force of the New Imperial Order would likely be making their entrance through the massive ornate doors that stood opposite of Beric, there were many passageways through the palace that those would be able to navigate, should they choose to do so. Obviously this person had chosen the latter -- and from what Beric could sense, they were strong in the Force as well, their aura shimmering strongly with the Light. Though if someone were to blatantly create war, were they truly agents of the Light? Or merely conduits manipulated by a malevolent darkness?

Whatever the case, the man seemed to be familiar with the Ithorian, refering to him as Mister Asyr, from which Beric was able to glean a portion of the Ithorian's name. The man's gaze then turned to Beric, still kneeling, tilting his head as he inquired to who Beric might be. Beric could sense the man reaching out with the Force, and did not attempt to hide his own aura, for there was no reason to do so. "A man hoping to make peace, not war," was Beric's reply. "I might ask the same of you."

​

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

T H E _ W O L F
THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE
104th MARINE BATTALION 'WOLFPACK'
Jedi Jumpsuit | Concord Brawn | Blade of Ruusan
Loske Treicolt | CLOSED

WOLVES
​

At the precipice of it all. Ziost, Generis, Dorin...fruitless. In each duel of Galactic fates he always seemed to linger in her shadow. She was close, but just out of reach. The Wolfpack was buried in New Adasta, left to lick its wounds in the Galactic Core, but Treicolt ventured on alone. Her trail was synonymous with the war machine of the Sith Empire. Where ever they went, she followed. And he would be there.

He wouldn't give up.

You never do.

Serenno. The symbolism of this campaign spearheaded by the New Imperial Order was a machination many years in the making. The homeworld of Lucien Dooku , a spacer he'd heard the exploits of trailing back to the casting of the net over Pabol Hutta. A crime unspeakable by the Sith Empire, to enslave the fleeting refugees from the conquests of the Bryn'adul. But now that crime had seemingly gone forgiven by the powers that be. As much as he would've liked to show more in force to help his friend liberate his home, just as Maynard yearned to, he was here selfishly. For her.

For the first time since Bastion, he'd taken up the Blade of Ruusan again, the will of the Ashla. Though he was not the warrior of light that would've been worthy of the blade, far from it. He was a deeply flawed man with convictions that stretched and broke the Jedi Code, the bounds of what was deemed the 'Light', the 'Goodness' of the Galaxy. He was mere mortal.

Enveloped in the fires of bloody schism that enveloped Carannia, Maynard walked, clutching the hilt of the blade tight in his hand as he strode down the choking alley way. He reached and grasped ahold of the faint remains of that solitary tether through the immaterium that linked them to one another. Made their pain, joy and sorrow one in the same. As he neared, he could feel the cataclysmic torment, the battle to exist between Loske and Shursia.

A battle which for now only had one clear advantage. Shursia ruled her actions, there was all but the faint glint of the other's presence in her. He wasn't sure how he'd feel when he saw her as she was.

He didn't have to deliberate too much longer. She turned a corner and at the end of the corridor, he stood. Alone.

The sight of her consumed by the wretched blackness twisted a dagger in his stomach. A sickening, horrid sight to behold. To him, there was no imperfection in her person or soul and now she looked at him with the eyes of a spawn of darkness, demon. But he knew well she still lingered within.

Thus, he spoke to her.

"I told you I wouldn't give up..."​

Was all he managed, unable to activate the blade in hatred of the one who he loved and cherished more than anything in the Galaxy. He stood...and he waited.

 

[Jerec Asyr]

OBJECTIVE 1
THRONE ROOM
ALLIES: NIO, GA ( Aaran Tafo )
ENEMIES: TSE and friends ( Beric Layne )


Jerec holstered his gun but kept a hand on it. The guy didn't feel like a Sith, but-

"Good to meetcha, Beric. I'm Jerec. Look at us, friends already. Beric and Jerec."

Little-known fact: Ithorians could learn to speak Basic. Jerec had grown up on Corellia, mostly in human foster homes - he spoke naturally, without an accent. Ithorese was where he struggled.

"I like peace too. Peace is great. Right, Aaran?" he said to the Jedi Knight who'd just come in. Jerec didn't much like Jedi, but Tafo had done right by him at the Cloud City massacre.

"Me, I'm here helping Serenno get...well, I can't say getting its freedom back, but its self-determination, sure. Rightful king, backed by a different set of jackboots - non-genocidal jackboots this time. The New Order might be a pack of ryvving jaggaths, but they're not out murdering cities or whole planets for fun like the Sith. So peace is only coming to Serenno if the Sith get the boot first. And we could definitely use your help, bud."

 

[Aaran Tafo]

ALLIES: NIO, Jerec Asyr
OPPOSITION: TSE Xeykard Beric Layne
LOCATION: Palace.

He was silent for a solid minute, listening to the other Jedi's explanation. Weighing his words and finding no falsehood within them. Whoever this man was, Aaran was fairly certain he was being honest. It was quite heartening to hear someone take such a stance. At least they were opposing things in a sensible way and not causing a scandal during important peace talks. Although inwardly he could not help but wonder why he was waiting here in the Throne room as opposed to seekin out the commanders of the Forces outside.

Shrugging slightly he folded his hands into the sleeves of his robes. Bowing once in greetings to the Jedi as they introduced themselves. "Greetings. I am Aaran Tafo of the New Jedi Order. A pleasure." He said, making introductions as necessary before allowing the Ithorian to ramble on for a while. A small smirk of amusement visible on Aaran's face as the Smuggler gave a somewhat crude but accurate summary of the events. Sharing opinions that the Jedi found himself sharing. "The lack of mass ritual sacrifice and culture of backstabbing tends to be a slight step up as well." He added in, a small if rather cheeky addition that fit the tone of Jerec's breakdown of the situation.

"And I do agree with Mister Asyr. Peace is the preferable outcome. Although I am afraid that with both sides here seeing themselves as the morally correct one. Negotiations would be tricky from your current position." He said, shrugging slightly.

It was in situations like this that one had to look at things pragmatically. Removing things like emotional attachment and looking at it through the lens of a commander. One did not win wars by destroying one's enemies in battle. You won by making them unable to fight. Loss was minimised, supplies were not wasted, rebuilding was easier. Life returned to normal more quickly afterwards.

"I came here looking to shut down some Sith command posts and ordering surrender for some of the troops fighting. Allowing them to be taken into the New Imperial Order's custody.." It made sense after all. A great deal of the New Imperial Order's own men where those who had previously suffered under than hands of the Sith. Conscripted to fight in battles they had no stake in. No wonder they would be sympathetic to others in the same situation.

"If you wish, you can assist me." He offered to Beric. "I'm certain that with your aid you can help convince the Sith commanders to stand down."

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir
Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud
The Red Witch, The Night Queen, Lady Stuztala, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium, Archon of the Primyn Group​

Location: Estate of House Terassi
Objective IV.: Save the House Terassi
Equipment: The Soulsabers (hidden) | Kaldrweave Elegant dress | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland
Writing with: Hans Rennagen

[ Never meant to belong... ] ​

"They have always done so, there is no reason to change that."

Ingrid said seriously; she already knew House Terassi so well that she knew it was so. Their survival and business affairs were more important than anything else. There was no need to fear that they would ever switch to either side. She was glad to be able to state this so seriously and honestly. For the second part, a sad smile appeared on her lips.

"I would like to do that, but you put the planet under blockade. Although my ship is civilian and not Eternal Imperial; could the ship leave the system, unharmed without any help during the siege?"

She travelled on the usual, unarmed luxury yacht she inherited from Adrian. Finally, she said the third condition, as if she felt confusion and grief on the part of the man. Did that horde affect the man's world? The Empress couldn't know. Finally sighed a little tiredly when Hans said Rurik Fel 's name, that is, his rank, that he would pass her on to the man. Ingrid knew the Lord Executor was competent, but that was unacceptable to her, shook her head.

<"You can't, Ingrid, the man will kill you right away!"> spoke from behind a man in High Nelvaanian language; he wore a simple black military outfit, not like the members of House Terassi.

<"But I have to do it, Joe!"> she said rather softly, when she answered the man, her stern gaze also eased; exceptionally, she looked like a normal woman, not a brittle empress or a soldier.

<"Damn you and your dad, little girl! You're not going to escape, are you? And you could do it. Would you let them kill you? That's not why I've protected you since you were a child, that's not why I trained you! Your ex-husband was right, think for yourself! There's Tubrok, little Adrian and Eyjolf! Do you want them to grow up without a mother?! You want that Tubrok can experience what you did when you lost Vandiir?!">

<"I am no longer the four-year-old little girl who killed a man for the first time in her life. I'm not the one you have to take care of. I grew up. And if my death manages to draw attention to the danger of Bryn’adûl, it is worth it!">

<"Feth! Damn, it's not worth it, Ingrid!">

She didn't answer, she turned back to Hans, her gaze became stern again in an instant, as did her voice as she spoke.

"The Lord Executor is probably still suffering from the venom I wounded him on Generix. I tried to talk to him; he didn't even want to listen. His first move would be to take my head off…"