Junction ILUMinate the Void | Junction of Ilum [GA], Pashvi [NIO], and Empty hex Northeast of Rhand [BOTM]

[Aurelian Sigismund]

✠ High Imperator of the Rim-Guard Order ✠

✠ Objective: I. Hearts of Kyber
✠ Location: Aboard The Phalanx, entering Ilum System
✠ Gear: Agema-Armour, Lancer-pistol, lightsaber pike, holo-transmitter
✠ Assets: The Phalanx, the White Flame, two Paladin Banners (FG) (181), Skytroopers
✠ Tag(s):
Space​

Adversaries: Caedis Umbrammor , CETCOM

Allies: Open

Ground​

Adversaries: The Mongrel , Maestus

Allies: DECEASED Erskine Barran , open

⮚ THEME​

The High Imperator looked at the present forces portrayed on the strategium display. Two of his most trusted Banner commanders as well as the captain of the Phalanx and the holo-picture of the White Flames captain were present. The room was planned for much bigger meetings, but the three golden figures were already filling it up quite well, their presence emitting an aura of authority and strength.

"They have at least three battlecruisers in the system with which I would not like to go head to head. The smaller ships I see no issue with, but we need a solid attack route."
Praefect Primus Urienz was the commander of Ecthelions flagship since its recovery, he selected him personally from across all the graduates, veterans and captains of the Eternal Empire or Unknown Regions. He was a direct and honest man, simple and not too proud to admit inferiority in numbers of quality.

"We are too few to board all of them at once to play to the advantage of our Order, especially not if Brother Princeps Marcus is leading his banner to the ground."
Vrihedd was a tall grown man even before his conversion to a paladin, but the genetical enhancements made him as tall as Aiglos, but less broad, giving the impression that he was a professional swimmer rather than a soldier. But he did earn his title of Princeps Maximus as one of the first and he never aspired to get more. He knew his strengths and he would despise loosing his place at the frontlines.

The other Banner commander, Princeps Maximus Marcus remained silent as he was looking at the situation. He took temporary command of the White Flame as van Deithwen was occupied within the Eternal Empire still. He was not known to give big speeches or involve himself into strategic planning unless he was asked or saw a flaw. His tactical and strategic skill were nearly unmatched in the Order. Marcus' Banner was selected to lead the ground operation.

"We will send the 11th Banner in on Ilum as planned, the 5th will stay on the Phalanx, ready at the boarding pads. We got enough Skytroopers to flood ten battlecruisers and we will make use of them. Their fleets are not homogenous, they are composed of different tribes or hordes, therefore we will have a chance to pick them apart one by one. Praefect, calculate options for the softest targets, consider a micro-jump. The 11th will stay on the White Flame and move into orbit to land them and offer reconnaissance and surveillance. Any questions?"

They had none and so the Order was once more preparing for war.

✠ ✠ ✠​

In the hangar where the Stormeagles were readied to be transferred to the White Flame, Aiglos stopped Marcus. He knew the man, he had recently promoted him himself and was well aware of his calm qualities and expecting him to be one of the first to be assigned to the Third Generation. Marcus was not as tall as Aiglos, only a few centimeters short, but of a muscular build, not too bulky though. He had very short blonde hair and clear blue eyes, his facial features very noble but not too expressive.

"Brother Princeps Marcus."

The man would turn and salute, the intelligence in his eyes shining and containing most of the eagerness he felt about the coming battle. Some call him arrogant, but Aiglos did not see that. Marcus was introvert, calm and calculating. He would speak when he had to and his actions and record were above all accusations of arrogance.

"Your goal is to exterminate any resistance and take the mined Kyber. If the options are to lose the Kyber or to destroy it, destroy it. Rather nobody than us gets it. The Jedi are not the enemy, but they should neither leave this field stronger than they were before. We are allies and we will behave like it, but do not let them command you. This is a difficult mission and it requires a lot of subtle and soft skill. I trust your judgement. Order prevails, Brother Marcus."

"Order prevails, Brother Aiglos."


​

 

[Caedis Umbrammor]

Theme

Objective: I
Hearts of Kyber

B̯̣̮͋̅̓́͜ư̱̗͖̻͉̯̈ͧ̆̚ͅi̞̣ͯ͂̄͊̕l̡̺̞̱̖̠͚̦̙̜̒̊͌d͇͖̫ͩ͆ͮ́ỉ̟̲̮̝̿͡n̢̧͍̦̻͇͍̝̞ͪ̃̓̀͐̏͝ͅg̼̥̦̐ͣ̃̀̇ͭ̕ ͎ͬͣ̊̓͐ͮͯͬ̚S̴̖͚̈́̕͝t̫̻̬̳̦̳̋͒̌͌ͤͪͯ̑͞o̸͔̐ͤ̋͋͛̇ͨ̚͞r̃ͨ͛ͬͦ͏̴͎͟m̢̪͙̬̖̺͕̔̑̋̄͛̚͞sͧ͘͏̬̩̪͓͕̹̼͘​

Part 1A: Dog Days

LOCATION: ORBITAL WAR
Allies: -
Foes: Aurelian Sigismund

"By Dhefiron's fury...!" Caedis intoned, before taking a deep breath, staring at the holoprojection. His eyes blazed in the yellow taint of the Dark Side, as he observed the large warship entering the region. It was not coincidence. It was by far not for negotiations... No... No words would be exchanged between the two... For both knew their place. And their task.... For few seconds, the operators remained silent, waiting for the new initiative of the Red Prince. He could not ignore the new force coming into the battlefield. Yet he had already pledged a vast number of his starfighter squadrons in the bombardment... Now he had to devise a strategy quickly.

"Signal all ships: Prepare to go blind" Caedis spoke, moving suddenly from his stance. His grim around the black hilt of his sheathed sword ever tightened, pointing here and there with his restless arm as he walked across the bridge, now meant to lead two different battles... The aerial attack on DECEASED Erskine Barran 's assault host. And the orbital war, against Aurelian Sigismund ; A brand new foe... For once, the tides now turn even...

"Call the Blood Spear..." Caedis muttered... "Its time...'

"LOAD THE CANNONS, HUNCHED-SPAWNED DOGS!"
The loud voice of the Zabrak echoes, as his heavy chainmail armour waves onto his wide pacing across the narrow deck of the warship. The corsairs of the crew rush to the cannon emplacements, pushing the heavy crates, while lifting the charger-cells wrapped in chains, before locking them inside the barrel's host. "BATTLE CALLS! THE WANT TO HEAR OUR ROAR!". From onboard the very bridge of the Hunter Dog, the dark figure sat on an iron, throne-like seat, amidst the dark. Before her, the holoprojection of Caedis Umbrammor . "Take your squadron forth, captain... Time to test the waters...".

The four destroyers push forth, towards the enemy warship. The closer they get, the faster their engines push them; Their speed now immense, as their trident-like cannons around their forecastles charge... Their Very high speed pushes them forth as they head for a head-on assault...

Meanwhile, the Ignisir-Class Star Destroyer's engines roar, as her massive hull starts turning around, to face the coming warship... As soon as her bow faces the Phalanx's, the "Kiss of Death" blazes her engines, with her speed picking up fast... Very fast;

The more the Athysian ships close in, the more the sparkles in Caedis Umbrammor 's claws... Eager... Waiting.... And then....

"FIRE!"

KZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZSHSSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

KZZZZZZZSHSSHSHSHSHS

KZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZSHSSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

The blinding beam from the Star Destroyer's heavy Beam Cannon blazes the void. A shot aimed straight at the Phalanx's bow. Hardly moments pass, before the destroyers' armaments are also unleashed, as their 4-pointed Beam Cannons release their deadly charge upon the warship!


Part 1B: Death from Above

LOCATION: BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW MINING BASE

Allies: The Mongrel Kyrel Ren Maestus
Foes: DECEASED Erskine Barran Djorn Bline Izoshi

The skies start bleeding shadow, as the shade of the vast Athysian swarms pierces through the clouds, descending upon the valley before the Mawite Base.... Descending... Upon DECEASED Erskine Barran 's 173rd and 2nd Brigade. The Massive swarm emerges from the heavens from the South, clearly heading directly upon the ground host.

"TSHHHHH" the distorted signal of the bomber sounds... "The enemy is about to besiege the Base. Save them the trouble. Bombers, take out their artillery and the heavy vehicles... And we shall see if they stay here for a second strike!" the commander intoned, with a clear satisfaction in his voice. "Let's baptize them in Athysian Hellfire!"

Over 40 HSF-97 "Buzzer" Starfighters and more than a dozen HAF-33 "Starbane" bombers fly towards the valley. A vast, eagle-shaped formation is maintained throughout the approach. The bombers fly in the middle, distancing eachother; A clear countermeasure for possible AA barrages. Around them, the swarming Buzzers, with the most irritating sound of the stressed engines melting within the very starfighters. The echo of this cacophony slowly prophesied their arrival throughout the region. Alas... It was far too clear, these attackers were making hardly any effort to keep their presence hidden. Quite the opposite. It was custom to the Athysians to always project their power, flirting always with inovative ways to utilize the fear factor on their enemies...

Meanwhile, at the distant west, the first HAF-33 "Starbane" transports start arriving in the Mawite aerial space, making contact with the ground forces through the holo. "Reinforcements have arrived" they said... Their cabins remain sealed, while they approach the base. Some of them seem to carry strange black tattooing on their wings; An indication of some sort of cultist blessing to the crew and cargo... Most of the shapes of these tattooing depicted jaw-like shapes, with chains being drawned towards 7 different sinds, forming a large star-shapped emblem... Within this emblem, there would be strangely enough letters written in what seemed to be Sith...

"Chains Unbroken"
"Wrath of the Fiend"

 

[Xashe Tistya]

ok i pilgrim
GANG_GANG: Creuat

​

"It is my first time, actually." She responded. "I wasn't deemed ready to pick my crystal yet."

And what a monumental moment it felt. Xashe looked at the temple walls in wonder, thinking of all the Jedi who must have walked this same path over the centuries. The mention of home brought the lingering pain, but knowing there were others before her who knew the same hurt in the name of duty soothed her, as did Alsha's embrace that wrapped the planet.

"I..." She started, before pausing. Did she tell her master she was a thief? It was not by choice, but necessity- though that knowledge did not ease the guilt. "Acquired it."

Her brow furrowed at the demand, but she trusted him. Slowly, she removed the silver hilt from its holster on her hip. Her eyes scanned the bland end before offering it to the master.

 

[Ishida Ashina]

REFLECTION IN THE ICE | ILUM | JEDI TEMPLE
There are darknesses in life and there are lights,
and you are one of the lights,
the light of all lights.
LIFE, A MYSTERY

​

His correction came within a heartbeat of her misnomer, and she looked down in apology. Most didn’t bother to correct her, but she nodded solemnly and parroted the correction out of respect, mouthing the word soundlessly as if imprinting it to memory.

What a strange thing to speak out so intentionally against.

"Your timing is less than ideal, albeit no fault of your own.

A single white brow lofted at his sentiment, before both furrowed at his implications. Her timing had to be perfect. To be as precise as steel.

Unless..Master Sardun was testing her all the more. She wasn’t tasked with only finding a crystal, but in true Michael fashion, she had to earn it. And so, she deeply understood when the open-toed Knight revealed that there was no serenity to be found in the caves this day.

“Unfortunate.” She muttered, tugging on the fur-lined hat so it might sit a little lower on her forehead.

"Interlopers skulk the caves. I wouldn't be so bold as to suggest you reconsider this trial, but I believe it would be prudent for myself to accompany you."

"With a retained distance, of course. As to not interfere with the experience."

Ishida exhaled out a small cloud of discernment and stared ahead at the opening she was meant to venture through. It was surrounded by water’s most artistic form, and looked entirely inhospitable. All the more so knowing there were more guests on the other side potentially.

“Thank you––” Ishida agreed with a step forward in her decision, and snow crunched beneath her feet. The rumination that followed felt as though her father had injected his words into her larynx, forcing them through her lips. It was an unconscious thing, her affinity for his mantas: “Time is not made of steel, it is impermanent and unsteady.”

Flashing a cocky grin in the Knight’s direction, she pulled the bandana back over her mouth to consume her expression and finished the comparison to metal with a fierce validation. “But I am steeled. So this trial has elevated itself to match.” Again, her father’s sermon (and confidence) reverberated in the recesses of her mind –– Persistence is to the character of self as carbon is to steel.

As it turned out, she was a little more laconic than this helpful stranger, so she left further conversation unsaid and trekked forward with little consideration to what his definition of retained distance might be.

Pressing forward, swallowed by the cave’s darkness, Ishida was scowling to herself while she thought about the words of the supervising stranger. Interlopers in this cave? That was trespassing on Ashla’s holy cradle. Who would dare have the gull?

Silence, The Force and the distant Jedi Knight were her only companions as she continued walking along the pathway. Ducking, side-stepping, and climbing when necessary. Always heading downward, deeper into the cave. All she felt so far was The Force in its purity, and at one point she stopped to draw in a deep breath.

It was only at that point did she detect the nefarity the Knight had foretold.

“Huh.” She grimaced, and looked a bit over her shoulder to see if he was still following. Her senses suggested yes, but he was pretty good at his promise to not interfere. In that moment, she felt a tug of regret in her stomach. She should have been a bit more conversational earlier.

So, with the idea of danger leering around the corner, she cautiously raised her voice in the darkness –– but not so much that she might disturb the delicate balance of the snow throughout the cave. The last thing she needed was to be buried alive.

Sardun would be very disappointed.

“Your accent is very pure. Which part of Atrisia are you from?” She asked into the black.

​

ALLIES | GA | NJO | Inosuke Ashina
UNIDENTIFIED | NIO | Rika Hiro
ENEMIES | BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW | OPEN, FIGHT US pls

 

[Kanto]

​

The Maw attack on Csilla had caught them all by surprise. How such a disorganized congregation of brigands could raise such a cohesive assault against perhaps the defining planetary stronghold in the Unknown Regions was a matter that raised many questions, and investigation was still underway. Fortunately, the galaxy shared in some value of morals that day. The Alliance and Jedi were stalwart defenders of the Chiss that day. Even the imperials and Sith sympathizers drew a line against the Maw. The Maw was now a clear and present danger to not just the Ascendancy, but the wider galaxy at large. As the Chiss sought to recover from the carnage at Csilla, there was still a lingering threat to the security and way of life of the Chiss: the New Imperial Order.

It is that threat that brought Irizi'ro'kanto to Coruscant. He had organized a meeting with the Chair of the influential Foreign Affairs Committee - and now contender for the Office of the Chancellor - Senator Annasari Vahl. The New Imperial-Galactic Alliance truce was relatively strong considering their antithetical values and philosophies. Media outlets had previously reported on the narrow scope of such a relationship, and the Alliance's second defeat at the hands of the Sith on Ziost did little to assuage any concerns held by Alliance officials and citizens. The Galactic Alliance and New Jedi Order pride themselves on being champions of freedom and democratic values, leaning on such values as they seek to rid the galaxy of expanding Sith influence. It wasn't only the Sith who spat on those values.

When his shuttle descended from orbit, Irizi'ro'kanto marveled at the Coruscanti cityscape. He had heard stories, but this was his first time seeing the fabled city-world. The sun's glow hugging the skyscraper silhouettes offered some small comfort, but that comfort did not last. Given an escalated security level, it was understandable that dignitaries would be landing at a nearby military facility. What made less sense was the sight of New Imperial vessels at the same base. Irizi'ro'kanto wanted to be offended by the treachery, but refrained from jumping to conclusions. The Alliance and New Imperials had an existing military agreement to coordinate their offensives against the Sith. Still, it had piqued his curiosity at a minimum.

After another hour of some local travel, Irizi'ro'kanto had arrived at his destination. Wearing the formal uniform of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Force adorned with the more regal accessories representing his status as the Syndic of a major Ruling House, Irizi'ro'kanto stood straight and proud.

"Senator.", he greeted warmly - for a Chiss. "A pleasure to finally meet you in person. I am Senior Commander Irizi'ro'kanto, but you may simply call me Kanto. We have much to discuss."

Annasari ​

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

Post #3
GALIDRAANI FREE-STATE
BLUE-HEART BRIGADE

Objective 1: HEARTS OF KYBER

Allies (NIO): Lucien Dooku Dante Corvus Djorn Bline Izoshi

Allies (NJO/GA/OTHER): Aurelian Sigismund

Enemies: The Mongrel Kyrel Ren Maestus Caedis Umbrammor

Erskine's Loadout

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

Blue-Heart Brigade (Mechanized-Infantry)
*Losses are always registered 1 post after the fact
201 Repulsorlift Tanks
22 Scout AFVs
5 ACVs
1 Coy. Elite Riflemen
3 Plat. Quartermasters (Combat-Engineers)
1 Coy. Field-Medics

Another Ideal Battlefield V - An Unexpected Arrival

Calmly slashing through the air in practice as the enemy airships flew screeching overhead of his position, Barran chuckled heartily to himself as their fighters up front screened the approach of bombers and personnel-carriers behind them; letting the new opposing-arrivals to the planet attempt to break a mechanized Repulsorlift-tank formation, and in conditions that put their bombers at greater risk than they appeared to be taking into account. High-winds, flare-slugs and handheld Anti-Air rockets (still seeing faithful usage after Serenno) would be awaiting the enemy air-formation, and their nearing the Blue-Hearts' second line would be costly from the most they crossed the -3km range threshold, so Barran's quiet mirth would be directed purely at their tactical overstretching, and the altitudes to which the opposing fighters and bombers had dropped down low enough to work in.

Whether they'd give as good as they got would be known before long, but what the Lord-Commander knew for sure that these instances wouldn't happen often enough to effect any lasting effect on the Blue-Hearts' steely-nerve, their cohesion, or the momentum of the mechanized push to envelop the entire mountain that protected the besieged mining Mawites. Though the Stormchaser knew losses would be inflicted on the Goliath repulsorlift tanks and scout-AFVs, especially in the center of the first and second offensive lines, he knew that the formation's choice of spacing-distance had been opened far too wide to be too-harshly affected by the concentrated attack of Fighter-assisted bombers from the air, and that the new arrivals would need to return to their main formation for refuelling and rearming for further sorties later in the battle.
Plenty ways an' means o' making a few o' them veer off an' readjust before they get lock-ons, especially if they're dropping in like that.

'Gid luck, my young friends.... Yees are gawnty be needin' every last ounce of it.', the Bearded Woad muttered under-breath, snorting with affectionate mirth at the fact he never once referred to the Northern-Galidraani duo as friends before that moment. It seemed to Erskine, in his sudden realization, that the two Commoner Leftenants had earned their entry into the Barran Clique since the near-apocalyptic fight for Serenno; and throughout that entire timeline, both Brand and Birrell were proving consistently-vital to the Free-State's efforts on the ground. Shrugging it off, the Brigadier-General reattained his training stance and resumed in silence as the late-kicking sonic booms of the opposition's engines kicked in like door-thumping booms below the clouds, stabbing, slashing and pivoting to heart's content whilst he waited for the Warlord of Nirauan, seen walking downhill from the summit of the northern sister-peak.

Small, burning fragments of orbital battle-debris would litter the snow and the mountains surrounding the valley as Erskine occasionally split the chunks that had strayed too close, all whilst in the process of practicing with his eyelids shut. He wasn't surprised in the slightest, but Barran had surmised that fighters, bombers and the like beneath the clouds would mean the more-extensive presence of clashing aircraft in orbit, struggling for superiority, survival, and a means to hold each quadrant with tenacity until one contingent or the other had scrapped every vessel in sight; much like the siege, except the units on the ground had to contend with airships that had every intention of slyly tipping the scales against the Lord-Commander's contingent, though the true extent of such would eventually be cut short by their intended all-out assault on the Maw's ground positions.

The recognisable sound of an approaching jet-pack stream, followed by heavy boots crunching into the snow behind him, told the Stormchaser all he needed to know of who'd just landed to coordinate the op with him, and it wasn't Lord Dooku. Infuriated, the disappointment broke his state of flow and brought about an involuntary shake of his head that would've been easy for his New-Imperial colleague to see, but Barran cared little for what the unidentified solitary figure saw in that moment; nor did Erskine care for what the commander thought of his unwillingness to sheathe his naked steel, not that it mattered, as a true war-blade cannot be sheathed until bathed in the blood of the wielder's enemies. Turning back to see exactly who it was, the First-Captain's Stormtrooper-command markings were easy to see, along with the renowned Myrmidon legion-insignia, and though the welcome sight of Dante Corvus had lessened the disappointment, the Brigadier-General still couldn't help but give voice to his dissatisfaction regardless.

'Oh, it's you.... Nice fakeout with Dooku's blip, by the way. Not a fan, but you can relax; orders are orders are orders, eh? Besides, there is work here to be done, an' very little time to achieve it. Shall we?'

Birrell & Brand I - Ruh-Roh!

<"All units! This is Birrell! Load everything that burns hotter, brighter and more-explosively than the AP-shells and slugs we've brought with us! Aim it all those airships behind us; and keep moving forward, as I still intend to fight those Marauders to the front! Goliath One out!">

On the New-Imperial ground formation's six, pushing eastward towards and expected to fly beyond their coordinates, was a large fighter/bomber/carrier contingent that felt no need to conceal their sortie from the units below. Even in the blizzard beneath the clouds, the map-holographic projections within the two Leftenants' vehicles (moving along on both ends of the Galidraani formation) told them everything they needed to know of what sort of firepower was headed their way. 20km away, over 17km out of accurate range for the smoothbores, but not out of range for the Quartermasters' heat-seeking rocket-launchers from the invasions of Generis and Serenno; but alas, the same went for the payloads that were armed and ready for use on the Goliaths, Scout-AFVs and Medical-APCs, and the Northern-Galidraani duo knew their foes in the air would be launching every last missile their fighters and bombers had to expend for the impending bombing-and-escorting run.

<"All units! This is Brand! All the airships at the front of their formation are fighters, but they're screening hard for the bombers and the transports behind them. Lay enough pressure on them to shift them off their line - then punch shots through and beyond the gaps they leave as a result of said punched shots..... Weapons free, fire when ready! AFV One out!">

The distant screech of the opposition's engines could be heard by the Blue-Hearts by this point, but by then the flashes of their unleashed payloads were spotted all across the center of the Free-State/Myrmidon static-line, and thus those expecting to be caught in the firing-line would incant their prayers to the cloud-obscured stars above, making their peace with god and their choice to sacrifice their lives for the cause as they all chambered their only chances of surviving. Despite the heavens seemingly opening with the hellish burn of explosive death, despite the fact many would be doomed to die before even getting to lay siege to the Mawites' mining-operation, all within their armoured-plated shells would grit their teeth and fire into the skies defiantly, fulfilling their collective purpose to live, fight and die as soldiers of the New Imperial Order.

<"Barran to AFV One! Better get the Scout vehicles to load their flare-slug an' tracer mags as well! Time for another violent lightshow! If ye can recall it correctly, the snow can reflect the flashes at certain angles an' reflect it - just as it happened for us on Hoth, Helgard an' Csilla! Just keep firing, an' keep pushing forward for all you're worth! Bombing sorties, though they happen often as you know from Serenno, come in waves! They'll only get the one if we reach their ground forces in time, as we are one-hundred percent storming that mine as soon as we arrive!">

<"Copy that, Milord! Good suggestion! AFV One out!">

Rockets from the ground, high-explosive shells and their incendiary counterparts, flare-slugs and their accompanying tracers lit the glacial, snow-white valley around them, with every armoured vehicle moving at high-gear to continue closing in on the mine they were trying to reach. From above, the Mawite's rockets and chain-gun fire would sow bright destruction of their own, unintentionally contributing to the bright, glowing environmental flashes of violence created by their mutually-destructive firepower as the aerial bombardment neared ever closer to veering within range of the upward-tilting smoothbore turrets. Already gaining success to varying degrees, it wasn't in the 2nd Brigade's nature to rest on their laurels, and certainly not by leaving it at forcing the Mawite pilots to waste some of their shots at the ground.

Whether they willed it or not, the Commoner-Leftenants would have to wait for the smoke to clear before they could discern the idea's overall effectiveness, and wait patiently as the Blue-Hearts in the center held on or fired at the skies for dear life. A tough, yet necessary lesson for budding commanders to learn, one such that Lord Barran was keen to have them learn at the first possible opportunity, but neither Birrell nor Brand had known this would be their testing-moment, nor would they know until the operation had met it's conclusion. The screams, the sonic assault on their eardrums, the heat, the blood, the anguish and death alike would need to weigh heavy on their hearts for the Northern-Galidraani duo to understand the pains suffered often by the Woad and the Tuath who commanded them fearlessly, and without torturing themselves over the what-ifs that plague every officer's mind under duress.
​

​

 

[Annasari]

Kanto

"The pleasure is mine, Kanto."

Offering a respectful nod with the greeting, the Senator's demeanor mirrored his own. The monumental importance of the meeting was not lost on her. Her heart went out to the Acendcancy and the destruction of their home, as did the Alliance citizens- and publicity was only the very tip of an ongoin relationship between the two nations. Her cream robes shifted around her ankles as she turned sideways, beckoning to the table in the center of the board room.

"Please, sit." She said, navigating to a seat at the head. "As you said, there is much to discuss."

As she settled, she took a moment to observe the man. Her attention was drawn away for a moment as an envoy led a pair in grey uniforms past the door. Working to keep the frown off her face, her gaze fluttered back to the senior-commander.

"I do hope your travels were well. Though I wish the circumstances of our meeting were more desirable, I was glad when you contacted me. The Chiss Ascendancy and the Galactic Alliance can surely find a way to aid one another, especially in such turbulent times."

 

[Maestus]

She listened as The Mongrel gave his status report, however brief it may be. Truth be told, her only concern was getting as much kyber off the planet as they could. She would, naturally, confiscate a few crystals for her personal use. But by and large, maximum quantity in minimal time was her goal.

She grinned wickedly, darkly, at the thought of the coming battle. The more The Mongrel elucidated, she could feel her pulse quicken. Her blood raced a little faster. Burned a little brighter. She knew this world to be sacred to the Jedi. And could she be in several places at once, she would be in the Jedi Temple. Pillaging and destroying.

A pity she didn't do it on her first trip here. It seemed years ago, but was barely months ago.

Black pupils that were rimmed with red fire gazed skyward for the briefest of moments. It occurred to her just then that she may very well meet her end here. If she did, she wanted one last look at the stars. They were special to her. When she escaped from Ryloth, the stars were there to greet her. She decided that if she died this day, she wanted to see the stars one last time.

The nasty smile on her lips grew darker, wider as she lowered her gaze to the ground once more. As The Mongrel started to walk towards the front lines, Maestus reached out and grabbed his shoulder with a grip that belied the strength in her lithe frame.

Do you think to take all the glory for yourself?

She gave his shoulder a shake, then clapped him on the back. She started walking towards the front lines.

Come. There may be enough glory for the both of us. ​

​

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
BUSINESS AS USUAL
Enlil | Julius Haskler | Julian Qar
Aerarii Tithe

​

The Galaxy was already well embroiled in war. However, brought to the forefront, in spite of the Galactic East continuing to be entrenched in conflict without end, Chiss Space was the next flashpoint which demanded the attention of the regional power players. With the Galactic Alliance and its religious proxy in the New Jedi Order ever protective of Ilum and the New Imperial sympathies with the Chiss, there was no doubt there would be some Triumvirate intervention into the region's precariousness.

However, as much as the Alliance and New Order were collaborating parties, one would have to give over the other when it came to projecting influence here. The Alliance and New Jedi Order presence on Ilum was far too much for an indifferent New Imperial Order to contest. But the question came in the Chiss Space on a grander scale. They each had their foothold now, with the Alliance setting roots on Ilum and the New Imperial Order occupying The Redoubt. However, it was Tavlar's forces who were spread thin, whilst holding a stalemate and precarious front with the Sith Empire, warding off any large scale attacks with stalwart occupation forces, so too were Imperial assets deployed along the border and into the space of the Silver Jedi, to both assist in the fight with the Bryn'adul and be on high readiness should the Bryn'adul break through and near New Imperial space.

The Alliance, on the other hand had managed to keep an often war torn Core region in a state of very high stability and quality of life, with the ability to reach out and touch, project its military power most anywhere in the Galaxy.

Celchu Starfighter Base. Military installation, out of the way. Far more preferable to the Senate building in the epicenter of Galactic City, the Sovereign Imperator more than likely having to brave through protests to meet with Alliance leadership. In a more military environment, he could be more easily set at ease, though following the Campaign surrounding Ziost, he questioned how Alliance military would feel about him.


Enlil was the first to reach out and greet the Vice Chancellor, ever the more personable and endearing of the pair. A role served by Tyrell Paxxus before his undeath. Tavlar stood in cold indifference, narrowing his eyes to the shared mutterings between the two heads of government before Tavlar stepped toward Tithe himself, ever impressed in how far he'd come from spouting propaganda on Kintan.

"A pleasure as always, Vice Chancellor." Irveric said with a nod.

"Things are heating up in Chiss space, this 'Maw' group is shaping to be a threat to Galactic stability beyond what we're already dealing with in the Sith Empire and Bryn'adul. Csilla was telling...I don't think I've seen anything to that extent, Mandalore wasn't close." Irveric remarks, Tithe was there for the scourging of Mandalore, the genocide and desolation of that world.


"So then, if stability in the Unknown Regions is our aim, a cohesive action needs to take place, firstly...an investigation into Csilla and all facets of the operations that occurred there." Irveric suggested.

 

[The Mongrel]

Objective I - Hearts of Kyber​

Location: Ilum, Brotherhood Base
Allies: Kyrel Ren | Maestus | Caedis Umbrammor
Foes: DECEASED Erskine Barran | Djorn Bline | Izoshi

As The Mongrel strode toward the trench lines outside the mining base's walls, the valley beyond lit up in a cacophonous lightshow of utter destruction. Missile bursts, tracer rounds, and laser cannon bolts ripped through the skies as Athysian fighters and bombers engaged the oncoming Galidranni armored column, which fired back as it continued its advance. For the raiders from above, the goal was simple: to cause as much havoc and ruin among the fierce Woad forces as they could before the Galidraani hit the Brotherhood's defenses. There would only be time for one bombing run before that happened, so every shot would need to count.

The Athysian bombers were protected by a fighter screen, but with the Maw could do them one better. Six squadrons of Darkshear-class Swarm Fighters buzzed forward, their slanted wings making a strange scream-whine as they rocketed toward the battle. Their goal was simple; to interdict as much fire from the ground forces as they could, protecting the bombers. The Swarm Fighters were lightly armed, and their light blaster cannons would do little against the heavy armor of the Galidraani vehicles... but the fighters and their near-braindead puppet pilots were easily replaced, and that had a value all its own. They would become armor for the bombers.

The craft stopped Galidraani missiles by ramming them head-on.

Deep within the mining base, the Heathen Priests controlled the swarm fighters through rituals and the power of Rhandite smokestone. Half the time, they didn't even have their slave-pilots fire their weapons; they were only there to help the bombers survive... at the cost of their own worthless lives, for they were bred by the hundreds of thousands in the cloning vats beneath Holy Gehinnom. Every Darkshear that fell was a minor loss of resources, but every Galidraani tank that fell to the Athysian bombers was an experienced crew slain and a valuable war machine disabled. It was more than worth the trade, even without considering the time it bought The Mongrel.

As the marauder warleader headed toward the trench lines, he felt Maestus placing her hand on his shoulder. He stiffened, tense at her accusation that he was hoarding the glory; he was keenly aware that the Warlord could easily destroy him if he displeased her. Even a marauder as honored and acclaimed as he was no match for one of her power. But she was only joking with him, and relief flooded his heart as she clapped him on the back and joined him in heading for the front lines. "Enough glory for all," he hastily agreed. The two of them dropped down into one of the tunnels leading to the exterior trenches, ready to receive the Galidraani charge.

Despite the damage inflicted by the Athysians, the veteran Woad warriors were still coming on fast, their armored vehicles poised to slam into the mining base's outer defenses. Making his way to the front trench, The Mongrel took up a PLX launcher beside his men and fitted it to his shoulder. Glancing through the digital sight, he watched as the NIO hovertanks closed in. "Hold," he commanded, ensuring that none of his men opened fire before the enemy came into optimal range. "Hooooold...." The tanks rumbled closer and closer, snow kicked up by their repulsorlifts spewing in their wake. "Hoooooold," he commanded, one final time, finger on the trigger.

And then... "Fire! Kill them all!" The entire front trench erupted as dozens of PLX teams fired off their PLX rockets, aiming for the front rank of Galidraani armor. Hopefully they would inflict serious damage, disabling or destroying enough tanks that the second row of them would have to swerve and slow down to avoid them. But The Mongrel had seen the Galidraani fight before, and he knew that even the maximum damage his men could inflict wouldn't stop these born warriors. So he gave the signal. "First rank, fall back! Second rank, fire!" The marauders in the front trench ducked into the tunnels, running back toward the second trench...

Just as the PLX teams in the second trench fired over their heads.

There was no telling how much destruction the two-part barrage would wreak; there was the risk that the second rank's fire would mostly hit tanks already damaged or destroyed by the first volley, or that the enemy would deploy countermeasures that would blunt the rockets' effectiveness. But The Mongrel had planned for that possibility. As the last marauders pulled out of the front trench, the warleader thumbed the detonator he carried. Just as FN-999 had inadvertently showed him on Csilla, he aimed to use the front trench to deny the enemy what they might assume was a favorable position, forcing them to continue their advance over hostile open ground.

As soon as the tanks passed over it, he would detonate the trench.

 

[Darth Solipsis]

UNFATHOMABLE POWER

THE DARK VOICE | BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW
ILUM | CRYSTAL CAVES
Halketh | Zachariel Steelblood
​

The atrium stressed beneath the weight of the powers that be, the earth crackled and popped as the two darksiders collided below. Plasma snapped and hissed to life before him as the Lord of Carlac pressed against the thunderous storm of crimson lightning that buried into his blade. All around the mighty warlord came sparks and crashing blows that crackled to life from the palm of the Elder's hand. The Dark Side unleashed into a momentous wave of palpable hatred, a power reserved for the complete annihilation of an enemy.

The Lord of Carlac held his ground, pressing the orange plasma blade of his saber against the bolts of hatred pouring from the Dark Lord's being. The Dark Voice looked on in glee, every moment they remained locked in battle only added to the endgame anticipation. The Sith Master had found the sorcerer wanting, a worthy acolyte, a force of nature untamed, a powerful Sith Lord to possibly carry the mantle. Yes, this man was all that in more. A new Vader, but only if he could be turned.

A horrific chuckle of dark origin echoed through the chamber, the Elder laughed a sinister cry of amusement as he looked on. He couldn't hold out forever, it was only a matter of time now.

"Prijuri nun,"

His curled lip straightened as his savage grin faltered.

Within mere moments the honored dead, soldiers brought back from the precipice, severed the scarlet ribbons of light in a spectacular display of self-sacrifice buying the warlord seconds as the corpsely soldiers were torn asunder. Ripped apart and scorched from inside out by the immense power of the concentrated hatred personified by Sith Lightning, they fell before the duo with purpose served. The Dark Lord applauded such methods, he would of done the same if their roles were switched. Such was the nature of a Sith, survival at any costs.

The air filled with the stench of ash and boiled flesh. His assault ended abruptly after the sacrifice of Halketh 's minions, impressed but far from done the Elder rose to his feet in preparation for another concentrated volley, this time directly at the Miraluka. He would not bear fruit from this second assault before the recalled energies of the dead returned to the mighty warlord. Burning brightly the empyrean energies flowed to him as his hands motioned forth in manipulation of it’s malleable form almost in incantation the way it weaved so.

The mangled left hand of the Miralukan rose upward with mighty resolve as the burnt cinders twisted and twirled at his metaphysical touch. A sudden spark gave way to an intensive inferno that torched the great gale. A whirlwind of fire and lightning opened a great maelstrom around him, the immense power unleashed by the Elder was ravaged itself and broken away as it deflected its course into stray paths. The ceiling began to buckle under the assault, the Dark Lord’s eyes widened as stray bolts and waves of blazing heat washed over him.

"You know not whom you speak of,"

The luminal barrier that faintly echoes forth from the Sith’s wretched touch pressed against the crushing wave of death transcended. A focal point of crushing hatred laid out before him with the intent to swallow him whole. He could feel the burns touch upon him as the heat swelled and bore down upon his feeble body. Only his strength in the Force held the fires and dancing bolts of emotion at bay as he grit his teeth and groaned. With all his being he hungrily tried to absorb the blow as his palms scorched black, with great effort he pushed back.

“That’s it, give in to your hatred. Let your self-loathing and harnessed aggression push you. You are stronger than ever before, and soon your transformation will be complete. Seize the mantle, take your place at my side Lord Halketh and fulfill your destiny!”

The Sith Master taunted, calling upon his rage and anger. The self-loathing weakness within. He beckoned him to seize his destiny as he pushed against the storm, inching closer and closer to the source.

 

[Halketh]

T O X I C
V U L T U R E
// ILUM \\
// CLOSED | Darth Solipsis \\
act. i

​

The splintered shards of crystal and icy stone rained from the cavernous ceiling, under the threat of collapse from the powers at play. He contemplated the cost of collapsing the stony ceiling on the two of them entirely for a moment, weighing the destruction of the Dark Voice's physicality against the thought of unleashing him directly upon The Force as a spirit of wrath. His plans for defeating this opponent required effort and energy he absolutely did not possess in his present state- leashing spirits was no arduous task.

It took much from him, this raw display of desperate power- a ditch effort to defend himself more than to annihilate his foe.

Disconnected, was he, from his sources of strength. There was no carnage here, no ultraviolence or bloodshed to savor- he was one against one. Regret warbled in his throat between the notes of strain orchestrated by fraying cords, punctuated further only by the hisses of bloodied breath through grit teeth and the rattle of his ringed fingers as they bore the brunt of the Darkside lofted overhead. He could not rely on sorcerous assault alone if he wished to walk from this confrontation.

Through the churning swells of discordance, he saw the withered frame painted in ravaging Darkness approach, closing in on his position. ​

“That’s it, give in to your hatred. Let your self-loathing and harnessed aggression push you. You are stronger than ever before, and soon your transformation will be complete. Seize the mantle, take your place at my side Lord Halketh and fulfill your destiny!”

Honed, he watched the Sith Lord approach, the resentment of a wounded animal snared painted freely across his blood-addled face. Yet try as he might to cling to the defensive effort of his storm, he could not hold it for long. Shuddering weakness claimed him once more with a curse splintering his grimace, thrusting him forward. The conjuration severed, fizzling out to near-nothingness to leave the two men in sudden, eerie silence.

The warlord flicked the blood from his fingers, splattering it to the ruined floor, and extended the same hand, summoning the gold-plated hilt of his blade back to bear. Shakily, his thumb compressed the switch. Despite this, he straightened his poise, remaining in place. He felt disconnected from the threat, strangely numb as the grim realization of his situation finally unfurled its nihilistic petals across his reason.

The offer guised as command gave him pause, staying his hand. All he had ever wanted was a place to belong. Something, someone, to break the isolation once self-imposed, that chained him to its loneliness. The murder of his Master had left him a hollow, broken man bent to find purpose listlessly, and trapped him within an immortal struggle with his madness. One thrust of his blade had ignited his destiny and set him upon a path of destruction and exile, costing him everything in the process dozens of times over.​

'This life clings to you. It latches onto everyone around you, killing everything you love and you just can't- stop, can you Kezec?'

The miraluka took what precious seconds he was afforded to steady himself, wrestling against the tumult.

'You've never belonged to anyone.'

But where was it you emerged from, Lord Halketh?

From nowhere.

From nothing.

Strobing plasma raised decisively as he lunged forward, crossing himself with his blade and cleaving it in the Sith Lord's direction- fury guiding his hand. "You see me for what I am. You know that I've traded my freedom for power before-" he hissed, feeding on the virulent wrath blistering his veins, "know that never shall I again."​

​

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Objective: 1

Location: Caverns
Enemies: DECEASED Erskine Barran
Engaging: Rurik Fel
Allies: The Mongrel Maestus
Equipment: Vader's Bane Lightsaber, Kyrel's Armor, Kyrel's Necrochassis.

Kyber Crystals were key mostly in Jedi and Sith Lightsabers. Even the weapon within Kyrel's own blade. But in these new eras of war, terror was the order of the day for the galaxy, and one learned from history that Kyber Crystals were made for imposing such terror. This could only be accomplished by the pain of the crystals, or at times large specimens able to fit into some type of weapon mechanism. With his latest plot the Master of Ren had hoped to use them in his further quest for destruction and revenge across the galaxy.

Even as the men had hacked and burned through the walls, the ground, working tirelessly to get such crystals. Even under the looming threat of Kyrel and his Knights of Ren. The crystals themselves always tempted Kyrel. For he had known such temptations back when he was just learning the Shadow. When he had encountered the New Jedi Order on Lothal, his soul was conflicted between the Light and the Dark, the crystals often stoked that conflict, as if they were fireflies within a thunderstorm spreading light through the darkness. Unlike now where he had been turned into a monster, someone no longer capable of redemption after being brought back as a pawn of the Sith, or at least Sith that saw madness in such dark science. Now he had been one of the most powerful of the Maw, and could withstand the temptation the crystal had once offered. Even seeing to it himself that a couple were bled.


The wind howled through the caverns, his Knights dispatched to hunt down their own targets. Be it Jedi and New Imperial alike. Kyrel himself did not suspect the New Imperials to get involved, but what happened after Csilla this proved to be no surprise. He could feel it deep in the Force of many coming, but who or what he was not certain, even with signatures in the Force he was sensing vast presences all around him. Some powerful, some too weak to even be acknowledged.

Yet deep within the caves he felt something strange. Something powerful, and something that begged his notice. So much so that he moved deeper into the caverns. His hood raised over his armor, Vader's Bane pulled from the belt gripped tightly in his hand ready to strike at a moment's notice. His walk was heavy, imposing and had an air to crush the nearest threat it posed to the Master of Ren. Focusing on it, he sought out on finding him, or perhaps he would be caught first. The deeper he went into the caverns, his saber ignited with a hiss, crimson light bathing the glittering walls full of the crystal the Maw was seeking.


Agitated and seeking to eviscerate and devour the one with such a strong signature in the Force, Kyrel had called out, the deep baritone within the vocabulater of the mask had invoked an unsettling feeling. "COME OUT WHEREVER YOU ARE! COME OUT SO I CAN KILL YOU!" His shout transformed into a force scream that caused the cave walls to shake, the vibration spreading throughout the expansive system of caverns. Kyrel could not stand the waiting, for unlike those that did not wield the Force, or lower class warriors in his mind, the higher the power something went off in the undead wound to lash out, like a rabid animal eager for it's next meal.

 

[Aurelian Sigismund]

✠ High Imperator of the Rim-Guard Order ✠

✠ Objective: I. Hearts of Kyber
✠ Location: Aboard The Phalanx, entering Ilum System
✠ Gear: Agema-Armour, Lancer-pistol, lightsaber pike, holo-transmitter
✠ Assets: The Phalanx, the White Flame, two Paladin Banners (FG) (181), Skytroopers
✠ Tag(s):
Space​

Adversaries: Caedis Umbrammor , CETCOM

Allies: Open

Ground​

Adversaries: The Mongrel , Maestus

Allies: DECEASED Erskine Barran , open

⮚ THEME​

TEcthelion had returned returned to the bridge right after giving the orders to Marcus. He did not spend a second thought on it as he was trusting his officer to do what was expected of him without interfering in his work or letting his work interfere Ecthelions. Being back on the bridge the ship was already moving, through the HUD he had followed the aggressive nature of their adversaries and them nearly jumping at them.

Through the linked channels of the Strategium, Aiglos and Urienz had devised a plan to deal with these marauders and were already following it. The White Flame was already darting off, remaining out of weapons range but seeking to deploy to the planet. The Phalanx on the other hand would take up the fight with her five enemies. The odds weren't too bad, even Aiglos would say.

The large ship was moving forward, slowly, its engines running only on a very low percentage of its possibilities. Its weapons were charging up and the shields running, in its belly though, there was a lot more activity. Skytrooper coloumns were moving to the boarding pods, droid starfighters were preparing to launch.

"Divert energy to the front deflectors, engines to hundred percent, all weapons fire, focus sectors on separate targets, take out these destroyers. Launch the first screen at them. Charge the EMP."
Praefect Primus Urienz voice was calm and clear, the stations accepting their duties without hesitation and performing the said actions. Each officer was in return selected by Urienz himself to guarantee a flawless working machine of team on his ship.

With a speed which would make even tuned light freighters envious, the large battlecruiser jumped forward, gaining speed very swiftly while attacking the enemy destroyers with its primary armaments of turbolasers and ion cannons. The fire focussed as much as possible to quickly overcome any defences swiftly. Six squadrons of VULTURE-droids were being launched as well as two squadrons of droid-tri starfighters, attacking the enemy screen and in return the enemy ships as well.
The bow of the Phalanx flickered as the heavy beam weapons hit their mark, the deflectors heavily shaken as the combined weapons were doing large amount of damage, reducing the shield integrety at the front to 10%. Without the diverted energy, they would have peirced right through.

"Activate emergency reactors, reduce engine power supply to 90%, divert all spare power to the shields."
The hit was hard, but the captain knew how to handle his ship.

"Prepare the boarding pods, Horizon Protocol active, five percent."
Aiglos voice came from beneath the helmet of his new armour, he was standing unmoved on the bridge of the ship which was his for more than four millennia already. He knew its capabilities very well too and would interfere with the captain if anything would not go as imagined, but he had educted and taught the Praefect well.

✠ ✠ ✠​

Meanwhile the White Flame was moving away from the battle, its engines running on maximum speed. Its captain noticed the absence of Moric aep Deithwen behind him and did not knew the figure who was formally in control of his ship now. Princeps Maximus Marcus was a known figure, especially after the Battle of Csilla, but he never met him in person.

The 11th Banner, inofficially called White Aegis, were by now one of the most famous banners within the ranks of the Rim-Guard Order. Their valiant assault on the techno-barbarians on Csilla and their heroic stand next to the High Imperator on Sev Tok have earned them both honour and fame. But that did not really matter to them and it was even to some annoyance for their leader. Popularity did not result in improvements but laziness and Brother-Princeps Marcus was making sure there was no place for it. His drilling and training regime was draconically efficient. Each of the paladins was expected to maintain and improve weapons and armour on their own, adjusting and improving them without armourers and quartermasters, knowing every habit, every minor flaw of their weapon as intimately as a lover. Only this would provide the maximum possible results in each battle.

The old frigate was moving towards the orbit of Ilum, its weapons as ready as the Stormeagles in its hangars to deploy the banner. There was not much space in the hangars for the big gunships, therefore only half a dozen were prepared and there, but this would be a different combat drop. The reports of the surface and air raids against DECEASED Erskine Barran were an issue, but Marcus issued an order which would negate their effect on their own assault drop.

As the White Flame reached the orbit and atmosphere, it did not stop, but descended into the strong hug of the planet itself . . . .
​

 

[Aerarii Tithe]

LOCATION: Celchu Starfighter Base, Coruscant
OBJECTIVE: II - Business as Usual
TAG: Adhira Chandra | Annasari Annasari | Irveric Tavlar | Lucien Dooku | Willan Tal | Julius Haskler | Julian Qar | Gat Tambor | Kanto | GA | NIO | CA

Tithe greeted the New Imperial Order delegates as their shuttles landed at Celchu Starfighter Base. “Grand Vizier,” he replied to Enlil as he disembarked his ship. “All investments carry an inherent level of, ah, risk.” The Tiss’sharl’s failure to accept the Alliance’s offer in exchange for turning their back on the Sith had not been forgotten. Tithe had taken it upon himself to invest heavily in the planet, slowly purchasing a controlling stake in major state-owned infrastructure projects. When the Alliance or NIO again moved against the world he would be in a much stronger position to seize power.

“War is economics by other means,” he added, citing a maxim of Gat Tambor . His primary concern was keeping the markets stable. “I understand the Chiss are parleying nearby. They may yet join our convocation.”

The delegations made their way inside a nearby command building and assembled in a briefing room, rearranged to host the summit. A stretched hexagon table sporting Alliance and NIO standards dominated the middle of the room and ringed by chairs. While there had been discussion of interspersing the representatives around the room, a traditional seating plan of one party on each side of the table had been settled on.

“Sovereign Imperator,” Tithe replied, bowing his head in reverence to the NIO Commander-in-chief. His mind cast back to their first meeting during the Battle of Kintan. It was hard not to see the irony - two men pressed into fighting under the banner of the Sith Empire, both now wholly committed to bringing an end to the Sith regime.

“For too long our gaze has lingered on Dromund Kaas,” the Vice Chancellor observed as he took a seat. “The Sith and Bryn'adûl slowly sweep across the galaxy, prone to ambush and counter-attack. But this Brotherhood, my, they strike without warning where others would never dare.” While the Battle of Mandalore had been ferocious, it paled in comparison to the brutality demonstrated by the Brotherhood. The Sith had clear, tangible motives - the Brotherhood sought only death and destruction.

“There was a definite intelligence failing at Csilla,” Tithe admitted. The appearance of the Brotherhood’s planet-killer had caught everyone off guard. The weapon was a relic of a past, harkening back to a less civil period of history. It had been decades since a weapon of its power had graced the galaxy, and none were prepared to stand against it.

While the ability to destroy a planet struck fear into the hearts of the masses, their panic was insignificant next to the downward trend the markets were tracking. Uncertainty was crippling the galactic economy. The prospect of the Brotherhood bringing a planet-buster to bear had sent everyone from regional governors to lowly citizens into a spiral. Trade had ground to a halt as worlds hoarded their precious resources and exports. Unless something could be done, a lot of powerful people stood to lose a lot of credits, Aerarii Tithe being one of them.

“Bringing order to the Unknown Regions will require a concerted effort,” he proposed. “The wilds of those system will not be tamed by a single government. Only in cooperation can be restore order and bring the Brotherhood to heel.”

 

[Caedis Umbrammor]

Theme

Objective: I
Hearts of Kyber


Part 2A: Blood in the Void

LOCATION: ORBITAL WAR
Allies: -
Foes: Aurelian Sigismund

The jaws of Death manifest themselves as the screaming of the blazing hell-fire that bites against the Destroyer's armor, breaking in the gun deck as a savage beast. Cracking through the thick hull, cannons, tubes of the life-support, deck plating and torn limbs spread across the deck like shrapnel, piercing indiscriminable through bodies and equipment alike. Munition crates overheat by the momentary hell-like temperature, exploding across the deck, causing even further chaos. The bodies of the wounded, dismembered and bloodied corsairs of the crew lie all across the burning deck, as the very ship herself is pushed off-course by the brutality of the hit, which pierces clean through the very shielding of the Quardent-Class Destroyer.
The crew that still stood rushed from running the weapons' systems to patcht he massive, still blazing hole of the starboard rib of the warship, before the Life-support is broken down by overcharge. Onboard the bridge, the dark hooded adept sat on her iron throne, observing the holoprojection of the battle, now disturbed by the bloody wound her hull suffered. "CAPTAIN!" the Twi'lek quartermaster shouted as he busted through the blastdoor, holding his right cheek that had turned black, by the explosion's burn. "Our shield generators are melting down, we CANNOT withstand more such hits!". "Divert all power to engines" the captain-witch intoned with soft, soulless voice as if she herself was careless of the danger her ship was exposed...

The fire-bleeding destroyer accelerates over the massive hull of the Phalanx, as she reaches high speed, flying further away from the main confrontation. soon enough, her hyperdrive kicks in, momentarily blazing before the very ship jumps into Hyperspace.

Caedis Umbrammor continuously stares at the Phalanx's mighty shapes steering towards his warship. His eyes burn wild, as he follows with his gaze the fleeing destroyer. Now, both flagships were sailing head-on towards eachother. "We got them, Lord Prince! Charging beam cannon for a second attack!" the operator shouted. But Caedis' head shook, narrowing his eyebrows. He looks at the swarms of fighters launched by the belly of the beast that opposed him... he muttered, as he paced continuously back and forth, with his gaze fixed on the Phalanx now. He then stops, pointing at the operator, without wasting a look on him. "Turn the ship around, all to starboard! They wanna board my ship!! Keep their bow at our portside barrels!!! Get the hangar decks clear for the swarms return!"

"Lord Prince! enemy warship is heading to the planetside battle! Sending two Destroyers to intercept!"

"DONT!" Caedis shouted. "Keep them shelling!" he intoned, looking out at the void. "All ships attack their flagship!"

"But, Lord Prince! What about our allies on the ground!?" the operator said worried. The prince's eyes turn most furious by the persistance of the man.... "What about them?"

"PUSH THE CANNONS!!!" the quartermaster shouts, as he rushes across the massive gundeck. His powerarmor decorated with bones, jewelry and painted symbols all across, while he held a sharp Athysian Warblade athand, clearly already hungry for the boarding action. "Keep the enemy back! BLEED THEM HARD!" The mechanical cranes are expanding from above the ceilings like living tentacles, pushing the huge mechanisms that rail the massive Flak Guns forth...

The Ignisir-Class Star Destroyer takes a sudden sharp turn to her right, orbiting along the Phalanx's push in an elyptic course, maintaining 90 degrees angle against the warship... Her portside gunports slide open, within the carved metallic star on the external hull. From within the deck, the Flak gun barrels are pushed forth. It took only mere seconds, before the four doom-vowing cannons spit infernal fire, as their heavy load is sent across the void in a massive strike! A brutal barrage follows, as the Flak guns of the "Kiss of Death" seem to fire unsynchronized, shelling the approaching foe, while the remaining Destroyers turn sharp, speeding up as they launch yet another simultaneous strike against the engines of the enemy ship.


Part 2B: Rain of Carnage

LOCATION: BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW MINING BASE

Allies: The Mongrel Maestus
Foes: DECEASED Erskine Barran

Theme

SSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHBOOOM

The blizzard screams. Blazed, by the countless beams of fighter barrages that seek a deathly touch against the coming swarms, piercing through the Athysian fighters with their cannons firing ceaselessly, as the enemy is descending like infernal demons through the blizzard's frost, against the coming armies. The fighters' deafening noise of their pushed engines turns one after the other to a roaring comet engulfed in flames, by the wounds of the issuing dogfight, slowly carving through the Athysian force. Their half-torn carcasses are brought down against the frozen earth, while the enemy fighters keep pushing through the dogfight, to reach the greates prize: The Bombers!

A meteor rain blazes the blizzard above the coming armies, as if the very gods of Fire give birth to their demons within the white shroud. The fighters fall, with their explosive fuel shaking the very ground upon impact, as if the very bombardment has already started. All across the valley, chaos reigns, as the Brotherhood's fighters throw themselves against the enemy vehicles and blast onto the fighters, as if they themselves were the projectiles. The fighters keep throwing themselves against the swarms, as the first bombers explode mid-air within the rain of beams and lazer shots. Massive explosions. With all their load still within them, the bombers shine as birthing stars over the army, before their broken corpses give the illusion of slowly dropping down the ground...

Chaos Reigns....

"Pick your preys, boys! Give them FIRE!!!!!!!" The bomber's pilot screams through the com, as one after the other, the bombers line agains the heavy vehicles of the vanguard. The fighters of both the Athysian swarms and the Brotherhood throw themselves forth, being blasted by the heavy fire one after the other, up until the bombers reach their targets.... The bomber's wing cracks, as a wide hole from the pursuing fighter cannons breaks through the very metal of her flesh. "BASTARD!" the pilot screamed, through his life-support mask, seconds before he hits the red button in the cockpit.... Avoiding maneuvers were pointless at this point. With the enemy so close up the tail, all the pilot cared about was to reach his target... To reach it... before it was too late!

The underkeel of the bomber opens wide, as dozens of spheric, proton bombs are unlashed in a vast barrage of blazing death.

The Athysian bombers, one after the other unleash their horrific payload upon the enemy lines; all aimed against the heavy vehicles. The mass bombing of each of the shuttles reckless, purposefully launched to take along the actual target, as many of the wide spread troops as it could, along the proximity. The Wildfire reached out as if hands of fire gods grasped the air above, battling the blizzard, while the fighter swarms, clearly unable to attack the heavy vehicles, launched continuous railfire against the infantry, to forcefully spread them even further; The more their lines would break, the weaker their main attack force would be against the Brotherhood's walls!

The wounded bomber turns. Not the pilot's doing. Yet another shot from the pursuing fighter pierces through the heated engines, throwing the very shuttle off course, engulfed in flames and thick black smoke, as the very wing flies away, torn by the constant hits... One more shot followed and the whole ship would join the dark descent into oblivion! The pilot grins his teeth, throwing away his life support as he turns the ship sharply against closest enemy vehicle he could now hardly see, struggling against the will of the damage to land violently his ship. He aims his cockpit right onto the cannon barrel... A suicide attack. "YOU WANNA PIECE OF ME, BANTHAS!?!?!?!? HERE I AM! COMING IN THE FIEND'S HELLFIRE!!!!!!" The pilot screamed, clearly possessed by his zealousness, as the bomber is kissed for a final time by the chaotic fighter railfire, which goes clean through the cockpit! A blood splatter momentarily covers the transparrent glass, moments before the bomber's interior blazes in blinding fire. Its interior turns into fiery beast, roaring as it evaporates any living, or not, entity inside the cabin and cockpit. The very steel bends by the heat, as the fuel catches on slowly. Seconds later, the bomber would take on yet another shot, which pierces through the fuel tank, igniting it.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!!!!!!

The bomber's body spreads in a thousand pieces torn of its carcass mid-air, forming an eagle-shaped spread of black smoke and furyfire, right over the enemy army. Hardly seconds pass, before more wounded wolves reach out for the final Battle Glory... Alas... There can only be so much cannons, the fighters can use to battle the Brotherhood and the Athysian fighters, while also engaging the bombers. And even then, what could one do against such an attack...! Reckless, and selfless, the wounded fighters and bombers launch themselves in suicide attacks to take as many as they can, in a final moment of battle glory.
Bombs rain, the snow bleeds fire and death. Cannons ignite, fuel tanks blaze, the skeletal demon-like carcasses of the fighters fly burning against the vehicles in full speed, as the Rain of Carnage spreads all across the vast valley, indiscriminaly hunting the charging troops.








The deck emits thin crimson energy from underneath, forming a phasma under the boot. The tall figure of the bald man stood tall, with his palms resting one atop the other over his long saberstaff spiked hilt. The rings reflected the light coming from the numerous consoles around him, on the bridge, as his fiery yellow eyes sparkled, as his gaze went adrift, while he stared at the unreal blaze of the hyperspace... The silence on deck was deafening, as the ship kept sailing through the unreal dimension of the Hyperspace... Yet tension was there... Whispers in the dark... All knew what was coming... All knew... What lied beyond, after the Jump...

"Well, then..." Irratar Hemstagon intoned, as a devilish smirk forms on his lips... "Let the games begin..."

 

[Tarok Vassket]

T A R O K​

Location: Caves below Maw base
Objective: character introduction to faction

The deep caves kept the emergency signal from Tarok's hidden ship on the surfce from reaching him. However, he felt the ground shake as the battle above began in earnest. It was time to get going.

Tarok had a full bag of perfectly formed kyber crystals on the ground. He worked a chisel into the wall to take one last specimen. He muttered to himself in a language less than ten people in the entire galaxy could speak.

His people were nomads, but they didn't typically travel this far from the Rishi Maze. They took what they wanted and Tarok had decided to travel further away for greater spoils. He had been in the main galaxy for almost a decade.

"Those crystals belong to the Brotherhood!" came a cry to interrupt his work.

Tarok sighed. He'd been so focused on the task at hand that he hadn't heard someone approaching. He placed the final crystal in his bag and stood up, reaching for his gun.

"Mine," Tarok replied.

The man at the other end of the cavern would barely reach Tarok's waist. The blaster cannon aimed at him would disintegrate him entirely. Yet he still stood his ground.

Tarok studied him curiously. He wore a strange collection of equipment, he had thick tattoos running across every inch of exposed skin only on the left side of his body. Perhaps a fanatic with no fear of death.

The gun was yanked from Tarok's hands by an unseen force. It flew across the cavern as the intruder drew a sword. The red blade came down, smashing the weapon.

"Leave the crystals and leave with your life." The tip of the blade was directed at Tarok.

"That," said Tarok, waving a claw, "was one of my favourite guns."

"Then it's death," the human spat before charging across the uneven floor of the cave. He leapt with unnatural strength, high into the air to swing his blade at Tarok's head.

His assault came to a sudden end as Tarok caught him in the air. His claw wrapped around the human's torso. For the span of a few heartbeats he studied the man, holding him in the air with ease.

The instant the human started to realise what had happened and raised his sword to strike at Tarok's wrist was the moment he was unceremoniously slammed into the crystalline floor of the cavern.

The human dropped his sword and groaned. He groaned until Tarok stamped on him. After an unpleasant rattle of cracks he wouldn't make another noise again.

"Stop!"

Tarok looked up to see another dozen humans. They carried a collection of wicked looking blades and blasters. This was a problem.

The group looked back at him and down at the floor. This was an interesting conundrum given their beliefs. Larrik had been the leader of their little squad by virtue of his strength and speed. He had killed their last leader and taken his place.

Larrik had claimed the crystals. So had the monstrosity. Larrik, their leader, was now a smear on the floor.

"You can keep the crystals, but you're coming with us."

They collectively decided that this was a decision for someone more important than them.

Given that he had no gun and that there were a dozen well armed humans surrounding him, Tarok decided that was a fair compromise.

 

[Kanto]

At the Senator's behest, Irizi'ro'kanto took a seat. He wasted little time in delving straight into things.

"Chiss Space is faced with a...unique situation. The attack on our people's homeworld lends credence to the severity of the threat that both the Alliance and the Ascendancy face in the Maw. Despite their recent display of power, they are but a union of lawless brigands who thrive off little more than chaos and treasure. Though there is still much to learn and we know now that they are not to be underestimated, the fact remains: They are predictable."

He blinked. If he was nervous, it didn't show. He was a Chiss. He had an image to maintain. The stoic diplomat, the seasoned warrior, the diligent analyst. The next topic would be a precarious one for the Alliance.

"The threat to Chiss Space does not end with the Maw, however. Your Alliance's new friends in the New Imperial Order too seek to subjugate our sovereign territory. Already they have spilled Chiss blood and seized the Redoubt, and their own diplomats have admitted to me their intention to seize and assimilate our systems and people into their own."

"I am not unaware of the quasi-democratic nature of the Alliance and the internal fractures it creates. Moreover, I am familiar with the somewhat counterintuitive relationship between the Alliance and the NIO as it relates to the Sith. It makes sense, and appears to be ushering an era of not just peace, but friendship between the two. This presents a grave concern for the Ascendancy. What I am less familiar with is the Alliance's broader stance on the New Imperials' expansionist doctrine."

"I have been informed of the events on Ilum before my arrival. The Ascendancy has interests on Ilum, and it is not lost on the Ruling Families that this latest encroachment upon our worlds represents a precursor to further subjugation at the hands of foreign powers. There are some within the Syndicure that insist upon a first strike, but fortunately cooler heads have been able to prevail - for now. Nonetheless, in spite of any disagreement in the Syndicure, we are all united on one thing: Chiss Space is not some backwater to be parsed between and colonized by imperialist powers."

Did he just threaten the Galactic Alliance? Perhaps. He did not come to Coruscant to threaten, though.

"The Ruling Families seek assurances - assurances that the Alliance will act true to its values and won't turn its back on a people as they are crushed under the thumb of a foreign power. What we saw on Csilla was promising, but the threat does not end there. Some hope that values alone will be compelling enough to supersede economic and military interests, but not all are so naïve. To that end, the Chiss Ascendancy would seek a formal defense pact with the Galactic Alliance. Should any galactic power move upon Chiss Space, we would like to stand with the Alliance in repelling such threats, and likewise for the Alliance and the Ascendancy. I like to think such a relationship would be consistent with Alliance values, and as a gesture of good will, we are prepared to open Fort Typhos to the Alliance as a joint CEDF-GADF military base. Perhaps it would offer some additional benefit to the Alliance as a staging ground for your new exploration project?"

At this juncture, Irizi'ro'kanto knew little as to if the Senator had the authority to act upon such a proposal, or even if it was one which would merit consideration for them. A joint military venture could stand to improve military cooperation in the Unknown Regions - a place where the Maw's presence was ever expanding. The benefits were apparent, but it was a big ask, one Irizi'ro'kanto had no idea as to how receptive they would be.

Irizi'ro'kanto hated unknowns. Ironic.

Annasari ​

 

[Izoshi]

N I G H T M A R E
W I D O W M A K E R
UNDERCOVER
// SLEIGHT-OF-HAND \\
Djorn Bline

​

Scouting ahead of him, the undercover agent paused on the edges of the scraggly forest, head tilting out from behind a bare trunk to watch the scurrying collection efforts underway. The rising darkness of the night and the deepening of icy gales would serve to aid their efforts to infiltrate the hired bands working alongside the Mawites roving the place. Without further ado, the chiss jogged onward, cutting a path through the snow to link up with the mercs heaving crates of the precious minerals into the back of a convoy. She dashed by them, footsteps all but silent across the top of the snow in her trounce, and pushed onward, disregarding the transports.

Their target lay much, much deeper into the chasms the Maw had carved out upon the surface, the same the overseers in Maestus and The Mongrel directed. The two COMPNOR agents were to penetrate the operation and plant charges on the underbellies of the heavy equipment, some EMP and others explosive, to bring the harvest to a grinding halt.

<"The most important thing-"> her voice would whisper in her partner's ear, carried across the comlink the two of them shared solely, <"-is to convince yourself of who you are. Don't doubt it. Shove everything else to the rear of your thought. You're supposed to be here."> Izoshi nodded towards another pair of mercenaries she spedwalk by and was met by the same in turn. Good. The infiltrator paused to collect one of the lanterns from the rack at the mouth of the makeshift shaft and turned the dial, painting the waning darkness ahead with artificial illumination.

<"When you find the central harvester, let me know, we need to sync these charges else this whole plan goes belly up."> She spoke hushedly to Djorn and pressed onward, trekking down into the shaking, thundering tunnel.

Foul sorcery was at play somewhere beneath her, she could feel it humming up through the soles of her boots.

The sooner they got out of here, the better.​

"COME OUT WHEREVER YOU ARE! COME OUT SO I CAN KILL YOU!"

The voice thundering from the bowels of the caverns startled her, further emphasizing her haste.​

ALLIES | NIO | Djorn Bline
ENEMIES | GA(?) | BotM | The Mongrel | Maestus | OPEN FOR DIRECT ENGAGEMENT

​

 

[Rika Hiro]

REFLECTION IN THE ICE | ILUM | JEDI TEMPLE
LADY_SILENCE
COMPNOR
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER

"Nowhere special."

A familiar Atrisian voice rang out, the form in the shadows emerging and revealing the presence of a third Atrisian in the temple ruins. Unassuming in appearance and demeanour, she looked very little like a Jedi or Imperial knight. Instead, the woman was dressed in attire befitting an intelligence operative or, more specifically, an agent of COMPNOR, armed with a standard-issue service blaster pistol and a sheathed stiletto dagger. The only noise in the silence between the trio was the faint sound of snow crunching beneath the Atrisian agent's boots as she neared the pair. Yubari's gaze lay firm and steadfast on the duo, Atrisians just like the agent was and yet different in so many fleeting ways. These were agents of the light and scions of the New Jedi Order, and she was an agent of the shadows and a servant of the order. In some fickle sense, they were very similar but divergent in their respective duties.

"Logic would dictate a centuries-old temple with unstable foundations would make for quite the poor reunion location," She remarked matter of factly, keeping a respectable and cautious distance from the pair as she circled them casually. The Replicants line of work meant interaction with Jedi were few and far between and usually involved targeted killing, but in this case, the NJO were allies of the state, and the high committee forbade any and all ERIS HRDs from killing them in the field or otherwise causing harm. This entire cave and temple served a quasi-religious purpose to force users, and many came here in search of answers and solace, but to put stock in chasing kyber crystals and the force was illogical as the only guiding force that was truly resolute was Imperialism and the guiding hand of the Imperator.

Ishida Ashina Inosuke Ashina ​