Faction Imperial Reclamation Authority | Army | Boots Of The State

[Herald of Order]

"The solemn few."

The 9th Mechanized Corps prepares itself.

The cavernous hangar bay of the Resolute thundered with activity as the remnant Imperials prepared for their first true campaign. Dropships rested upon scorched deck plating beneath the shadow of towering walkers, their hulls illuminated by harsh white floodlights and the crimson glow of maintenance gantries. Cargo crews moved with practiced urgency between stacked supply containers while technicians labored over vehicles that had survived years of retreat, salvage, and desperate repair. Every machine present bore the scars of an Empire that had refused to die.

Gathered amongst this sea of steel stood the officers, sergeants, and soldiers who would determine whether the fledgling Authority possessed a future. Some wore freshly issued insignia. Others carried the faded markings of formations long since erased from galactic records. They came from different worlds, different campaigns, and different failures, united now beneath a single banner.

Above them, suspended by holoprojectors visible from every corner of the hangar, rotated the blue-green sphere of Lothal, the first opportunity to reclaim something from the ashes.

Soon the discussions would begin. Battle plans would be debated, landing zones selected, supply chains calculated, and casualty estimates quietly accepted. Before long, thousands of soldiers would descend through fire and cloud toward an uncertain future.

For now, however, the army assembled, and the dream of Empire waited.

​

The Imperial remnants stand upon the threshold of their first major military operation.

The objective is clear: seize control of Lothal and establish a permanent Imperial presence within the system. Success will require coordination between ground forces, naval assets, intelligence personnel, logistics officers, and supporting elements across the Authority. Failure will likely cripple the fledgling movement before it has the opportunity to establish itself as a legitimate power.

Participants are expected to use this thread to discuss all aspects of the forthcoming campaign, including but not limited to

Lothal Civil Defence is expected to contest any landing operation. While their fleet is limited in capability, the defenders possess home field advantage, established infrastructure, and the ability to rapidly mobilize local forces. Participants should not underestimate the challenges posed by a determined defender fighting on familiar ground.

This thread represents the Army's primary planning conference prior to the commencement of hostilities. Officers, non-commissioned officers, specialists, and attached personnel are encouraged to contribute their expertise. The Empire's future may well be decided here. Plan accordingly.

​

While senior leadership finalizes preparations for Operation Lothal, enlisted personnel and junior officers are directed to use this thread to prepare for the coming deployment. Equipment inspections, combat drills, vehicle maintenance, squad briefings, weapons qualification, troop transport preparations, and personal interactions are all encouraged.

The Imperial Reclamation Authority is a new organization built from the survivors of countless defeated commands. Many soldiers have never served beside one another before. Veterans from shattered regiments now stand shoulder-to-shoulder with fresh recruits, former garrison troops, naval security personnel, and refugees from the Empire's long retreat.

Not everyone knows each other. Not everyone trusts each other. Soon they will have to. Use this opportunity to establish relationships, settle rivalries, meet new comrades, and prepare for the realities of the campaign ahead. The invasion of Lothal is no training exercise. Casualties are expected. Some of those present will not survive the operation.

For now, however, the transports remain in their bays, the rifles remain unloaded, and the battle exists only as a plan on a holomap. Make use of the time while it lasts.

The next time many of you gather together, it may be beneath the skies of Lothal.

And I assure you, not everyone is going to make it.

 

[Cerein Aron]

"To prepare for the storm." | Tags -

The hangar deck was alive. Cargo haulers rolled across the vast expanse of durasteel flooring beneath the shadows of waiting dropships. Ground crews moved between stacked supply crates, walkers, and armored vehicles while maintenance teams conducted final inspections on machines that would soon carry Imperial soldiers into battle. The constant hum of engines, repulsorlifts, and industrial machinery echoed throughout the immense chamber, creating a steady background roar that never truly ceased.

General Cerein Aron stood alone upon an elevated command platform overlooking it all, his hands rested behind his back as his gaze remained fixed upon the colossal holographic projection suspended above the center of the hangar. Lothal slowly rotated in the air before him, bathed in blue light. Continents, oceans, cities, and military installations cycled across the display as streams of intelligence data flowed around the planet's surface.

The objective appeared deceptively simple. Secure orbital superiority. Establish a landing zone. Neutralize resistance.

The reality would be considerably more complicated. Aron knew enough of warfare to understand that plans rarely survived contact with an enemy. Lothal possessed defenses, experienced local leadership, and a population that would not simply surrender because an Imperial fleet appeared overhead. Every casualty suffered during the operation would be one the nascent Imperials could scarcely afford.

His eyes drifted briefly across the assembled equipment occupying the hangar below. Rows of armored transports stood ready for deployment. Troopers moved in organized formations between staging areas while technicians worked tirelessly to keep aging machinery operational. It was not the army he would have preferred.

It was the army he had, and it would have to be enough.

Aron exhaled slowly before turning his attention toward the entrance to the command platform. Invitations had been sent to the officers, specialists, and senior personnel responsible for planning the campaign. Soon the room would be filled with debate, projections, recommendations, and disagreements. Every individual who entered would bring their own perspective on how Lothal should be conquered.

Aron welcomed that. Blind agreement had killed more armies than enemy blasters ever had, for now, however, the command platform remained quiet.

The officers had yet to arrive.

And so General Aron waited beneath the image of a world that would soon decide the future of the Empire.

 

[Kellen Drake]

"Prodigal son of a dying age." | Tags -

Sergeant Kellen Drake hated idle time.

The Imperial Army had always operated best when moving toward an objective. Marching. Fighting. Building fortifications. Running drills. Anything was preferable to waiting. Waiting gave soldiers time to think, and thinking often led to questions that nobody wanted to ask.

The hangar deck surrounding the troop staging area was crowded with activity despite the lack of actual combat. Crates were being inventoried for the third time. Vehicles underwent inspections that every mechanic knew were unnecessary. Quartermasters checked manifests they had already memorized. Everyone was busy because nobody wanted to acknowledge the simple truth.

They were nervous. Drake sat atop a supply crate near the edge of the staging area, his E-11 resting across his lap as he watched the soldiers moving around him. Some were fresh faces he had never seen before. Others were veterans of the long retreat, men and women who had survived the destruction of bases, fleets, and commands that no longer existed. Most looked tired. All of them looked uncertain.

Understandably so. The Imperial dream was little more than a promise held together by stubbornness and military discipline. They had a single Star Destroyer, a collection of survivors, and a plan that required them to invade an entire world. The odds were not exactly inspiring.

His gaze drifted upward toward the distant hull of a waiting transport craft suspended above the deck. Soon enough, soldiers would be packed shoulder-to-shoulder inside those bays, descending through Lothal's atmosphere while praying that the Navy had done its job overhead.

Some of them would not return, but Drake had learned long ago that pretending otherwise helped nobody. A passing private slowed slightly as he noticed the sergeant watching the staging area.

"Nervous?" Drake asked.

The younger man hesitated before giving a small nod.

Drake snorted.

"Good."

The private looked confused.

"You should be nervous. Means you're smart enough to understand somebody will be shooting back."

A few nearby troopers overheard the exchange, their attention shifting toward him. Drake pushed himself off the crate and slung his rifle over his shoulder.

"The trick isn't getting rid of the fear. The trick is doing your job despite it."

His cybernetic fingers tapped lightly against the rifle's stock.

"Every soldier standing here is scared of something. Anyone tells you otherwise is either lying or too stupid to know better."

A few chuckles emerged from the gathering troops.

"The good news is the people on Lothal are probably scared too."

That earned a slightly louder reaction. Drake allowed himself the faintest hint of a smile before folding his arms.

"Now while the officers argue over maps and landing zones, somebody explain to me why Third Squad's transport still has a power coupling hanging loose beneath the port stabilizer."

The smile vanished immediately.

"Because if that thing falls off during atmospheric entry, I'll personally make sure the mechanic responsible wishes the enemy got to him first."

 

[Evander Thule]

Tags: Cerein Aron / Open​

Perhaps surprisingly, Thule had been one of the first to show up.

The cybernetic officer had been among the most vocal skeptics in their initial meeting, and not without reason. Cynicism sprouted forth from regular disappointment as mold did from moisture, and Thule had certainly experienced disappointment in the modern Imperial ideal.

To an extent, the events of that conclave hadn't helped to assuage his concerns. It was a motley crew indeed that had assembled there, and turning them into something resembling a unified state would be a nigh-impossible task.

Why then, had he bothered showing up for round two? He'd thought long and hard about that, and found that he couldn't come up with a logical answer. There was none. Only a feeling, an instinct in what remained of his guts.

Much as the rest present didn't seem to think so, a human mind ticked away under that ghoulish death-mask of a helm, and a human soul had stirred somewhat at the sight of so many Imperials in one place. It was almost like the old days, almost the same electricity hanging in the air right before a glorious victory.

Almost.

That alone was why he was here, Thule decided. If there was a chance, even a slim one, of remaking what was, then he was bound by duty and oath to take it. Whatever else one could say about the IRA, there wasn't a lack of sincerity. That was something he could work with.

The cyborg's taloned feet clicked across the floor as he strode into the room, taking a seat off to the left end of the table. Part of him itched to get going, though it was premature for that. He loved a good fight more than few other things, but loved one with good cause even more.

There was still no guarantee that this was anything more than banditry wearing the tanned hide of Imperial sentiment, but his skepticism had been replaced with a very cautious optimism. He wasn't sure where he figured in to all of this yet, if anywhere at all.

Hopefully that, among other questions, would be illuminated today.

 

[Galen Tagge]

This is it... the battle of Lothal, the battle that would make or break the IRA. But that won't happen. Galen won't let it. Defeat is unacceptable. Galen walked onto the command deck. General Aron already there waiting with a holo-map of Lothal opened above him, with a cyborg named Evander. Below them, troopers, pilots, and officers made their way onto shuttles which would take them to the staging area. "What is the strategy General?" A question Galen never thought he would ask again. It was exciting honestly. There hasn't been a real battle like this since the battle of Atrisia. "The Titus is standing by and ready for command. Just tell it where to go and it will be there."
Tags: Cerein Aron Evander Thule