Dominion Iron Sunset - Dominion of Borosk [DIA]

[Antipater]

Disclaimer: this thread takes place on Jaemus. It was originally intended as the dominion of that planet, but it was given to the Diarchy for free as part of the Galactic Population Boom event. Per the second post in that thread, this dominion has been reapplied to Borosk. The content and story remains the same.

IRON SUNSET
"The most disadvantageous peace is better than the most just war."
- Erasmus​

Overview: An Iron Sunset

The age of the Empire is over. The time of the Diarchy has come.​

​

Moff Antipater remains the dictator of the Cascadian world of Jaemus. His "imperial directory" - headquartered in Diadochron - holds a tight leash on the system. Evolving realities have nevertheless brought him into the Diarchy's fold as a vassal. Not kicking and screaming, as with the Mygeetans, but through treaty and compromise.​

​

Jaemus is still pulling itself back together in the wake of its civil war. Much of Antipater's political project remains a purely speculative future. These first few weeks will set the tone for the Directory's new status as a client state, as it works with the Diarchy to correct a few lingering problems.​

​

Objective I: Territories
Combat / Warposting: Soldiers, Warriors, Mercenaries, etc.

Among the many factions involved in the Jaemus Civil War were Sith-Imperial restorationists. These deranged occultists were a peripheral but highly motivated element. At the war's conclusion, they rejected attempts at political reconciliation and withdrew into the rugged, forested mountains of the planet's north-western quadrant.​

​

There they remain now, waging a brutal insurgency. Attempts to suppress and dislodge them have been ongoing, and were at one point spearheaded by the infamous Red Right Hand. With their withdrawal, it now falls to the Diarchy to put an end to this insurrection once and for all.​

​

You are to assist elements of the 404th Stormtrooper Legion in pacifying these extremists once and for all. Comb the forests and drive them out. Conduct yourselves responsibly.​

​

Your enemies are merely cultists. The Force Sensitives among their ranks are merely feeble soothsayers rather than true Sith. The Directory prefers such specimens be captured in the interests of "rehabilitation". But there are no guarantees in war, are there?​

Objective II: Grand Designs
Diplomacy / Terraforming: Diplomats, Scientists, Engineers, etc.

Decades of war have left terrible scars across the surface of Jaemus, mostly scorched forests and polluted river systems. It has been deemed a matter of national dignity that the environment be repaired and restored. To this end, the Directory has retained the services of a local Ithorian herd, native to the herdship Ithor Invicta, led by the eccentric Meldo Sathot.​

​

Sathot and his herd are an old fixture along the Braxant Run. Decades of kowtowing to local moffs have seen them adopt a number of faux-Imperial mannerisms which are downright uncanny for Ithorians to possess. They are no longer welcome at herd meets, or so it is said.​

​

They have pursued the restoration project of Jaemus with little regard for local rural populations, colloquially known as freeholders. The freeholders are generally armed, suspicious, and backwards, but they remain citizens of the Directory. Their eccentricities are to be humored rather than squashed... For the time being, anyway.​

​

You are to assist Meldo Sathot and his herd in cleaning up the battlefields of Jaemus. Disputes between the Ithorians and the freeholders are bound to rise, and it will be greatly preferable if these were resolved through mediation rather than violence.​

Objective III: The Big Money
Contract Bidding: Entrepreneurs and Industrialists - by request ONLY!

The shipyards of Jaemus are not nearly as coveted as those in orbit of Yaga Minor, but they have nonetheless dutifully served many nations over the centuries. In these modern times, they have been reduced to little more than a series of wrecked durasteel hulks, picked apart in the aftermath of the Empire's fall and woefully neglected by succeeding regimes.​

​

The restoration of these shipyards is of paramount importance to the Directory. It's unfortunate, then, that the nascent government's own logistics and infrastructure are preoccupied with planetary concerns.​

​

To complete the project, the Directory has elected to enlist the help of private enterprise. Business magnates from across the Braxant Run have been invited to Diadochron to bid for the contract to restore the shipyards. Money is no object, and the Directory has made vague promises of other preferential treatment.​

​

This objective is instanced between you and Moff Antipater. You will present your pitch, answer the droid's questions and - hopefully - be awarded the contract. Remember that the Moff is known to prefer succinct speech. Bloviation is impolite.​

Objective IV: Marathon
Bring Your Own Objective: Reprobates who can't do what they're told

Emissaries of the Diarchy are welcomed into the grim, tidy metropolis of Diadochron. What sort of trouble will you get up to?​

 

[Laphisto]

Objective I: Territories​

The gunship's repulsors kicked up a thick cloud of dust and pine needles as it settled into the clearing, its weight creaking against the frame as the repulsorlifts wound down. The hull gave a low groan as it came to rest, flanked by towering blackbark pines swaying in the cold Jaemus wind.

At the edge of the drop ramp stood Laphisto, taloned hand gripping the overhead bar. His wings were folded tight to his back, armor catching the pale light filtering through the canopy. The moment the skids touched dirt, he stepped off with his apprentice Iandre Athlea moving behind him, silent and alert. Three more LAET/I MKII gunships thundered down behind them, touching down with precision. Hatches dropped open, and the Ash Dogs came storming out 144 strong, each squad falling into formation with drilled efficiency. Armor clanked, boots struck loam, and rifles came up in synchronized arcs. Within seconds, the clearing was secured, overlapping fields of fire sweeping the treeline.

Captain Alvrek Varn landed with a thud beside Laphisto, helmet tucked under one arm. He rolled his shoulders once, taking in the terrain with a soldier's eye the uneven ridge ahead, the dense underbrush, the scent of rot and cordite still clinging to the ground. "First op under your banner since Serenno," Varn said, voice flat but carrying weight. "Figured I'd be lucky to still have a rank after that stunt." Laphisto didn't look at him at first. He took a few measured steps forward, eyes scanning the dark treeline. His voice, when it came, was calm but deliberate. "If you needed punishment, Captain, you'd be sitting in a cell. Not standing at my side." Varn snorted quietly, jaw flexing. "You gave a direct order. Pull back, secure the Diarch. But I was two hundred meters from the trenches. Rellik was six hundred behind me. If I'd turned around, that flank would've collapsed."

"there is no need to explain yourself to me Captain. You made the right call," Laphisto replied, his tone even. "You held the line when it was weakest. Without that, the front would've buckled and those men all would have died. your men boosted thier moral and saved them." Varn was quiet for a moment, eyes narrowing toward the woods ahead. His voice dropped slightly. "I thought I was done for. Chain of command doesn't usually take kindly to captains who decide they know better. Thought I'd get stripped down, maybe court-martialed and instead i was given a medal."

"You weren't rewarded for defying me," Laphisto said, stopping at the edge of the slope. "You were honored because you understood what the situation demanded. Soldiers like you don't just follow orders you lead, even when it costs you."Varn gave a slow nod, but his eyes didn't soften. "Still keeps me up sometimes. if i failed and the Diarch was killed, I'd be dead in a ditch for insubordination. Hell, I was ready for it."

Laphisto turned to face him fully, his green-blue gaze hard and still. "If Rellik had died and the trench had fallen, the entire battle would've been lost. The Sith would've overrun the sector. That medal wasn't for hesitation it was for the lives you didn't walk away from it was given becasue you chose honor over following orders blindly."

Varn's jaw tightened, eyes flicking to the flare of red light that suddenly streaked into the sky over the next ridgean arcing signal burst. He didn't speak right away. Just slid his helmet down over his face and sealed it with a hiss. The reflective visor masked whatever was going through his mind. "You really believe that?" he said, voice modulated now.

"I do," Laphisto answered. "And I trust you'll do it again if it comes to it." Varn gave a sharp nod. No more words. He turned and motioned with two fingers. The squads of the Ash Dogs began to move rifles up, lines tight, formation rolling into a forward push like a tide of armored wolves. Ahead, the flicker of white-armored figures emerged through the mist the 404th Stormtrooper Legion, dug in, waiting.

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Objective: 1
Allies: Laphisto
Enemies: Insurgents

When Iandre had learned she would be once again working with troops, a minor concern filled her thoughts. Then she had to remind herself these men and women weren't clones. These people were here of their own choice and desire. They weren't going to try to shoot her in the back. Side by side, they would fight and work together.

She flew next to Laphisto and the squad commanded by Captain Varn. The missions the two of them had been through were from a time before her rescue. Much of the conversation meant nothing to the former Jedi, but she listened anyway. Picking up on the fact that Varn had disobeyed an order, but still came out a hero, wasn't lost on her.

Slowly, her nerves settled, and she was able to focus on the objective before them: Capture or kill the insurgents, get them out of hiding, and secure the territory. Wearing new armor, she quickly adjusted to the views the helmet provided. Pulling it down over her head and face, it clicked and sealed like the Captain's.

Jumping down after them, she looked out through the visor at the early-day forest. On her left side was her old and familiar lightsaber hilt, and on the other was a new blaster that she was gaining confidence with. Even with her training completed, there were still areas she could learn more about—using a blaster was just one of them.

"I'll take Moose, Childs, and Night to scout the right perimeter if you want."

Her voice was calm and modulated, but it sounded like she was comfortable, confident, and familiar with her intended plan of action.

 

[Maldor Mecetti]

IRON SUNSET
Objective 2 - Grand Designs
___________________________________________

​

Maldor's Executive Shuttle descended from the sky, settling beside a hill in a patch of landscape that had not suffered too terribly under the recent unrest. The figures which came out of the craft were a splash of color bleeding from an albino bird. He wore his usual red Ginntho silk robes, and was escorted by two ostentatiously decorated troops of House Sancetti.

It was a calculated diplomatic maneuver, bringing his own personal House Guard to this place, freshly branded in Sancetti colors.

There was discord between the tribal elements on this world. The Herds, they were called. Or so Maldor had been given to understand. Doubtless there would be more thorough briefings on local conditions given to him by Sathot.

But Maldor's play was simple: He intended to show that even the High Chancellor of the Diarchy held his own herd. And that in the Diarchy, all herds could keep their identity while working together for the common good.

He did not know if it would work, but politics was never a certainty. Only a series of calculations and maneuvers reaching for a result.

He hoped he could achieve a good result here, today.



Antipater

 

[Pawky]

Objective III - The Big Money
Aboard the SMC Profit Motive
on approach to Diadochron
____________________________________________


​

The Squib people had not been invited to the meeting being held to negotiate the restoration of Jaemus. But their pointy ears could hear opportunities on the wind, and word had traveled quickly among the vast network of salvagers. The SMC called an emergency meeting, selected an envoy, and sent him to represent their interests.

The choice of envoy was difficult. Many worthy Squib were on hand and eager to make a pitch. But in the end, after six rounds of voting and six rounds of Troobie Juice (served in eighteen-ounce mugs and fermented to a fine 30 proof) there had been only one Squib candidate left standing...

"Pawketti Bamblam! On the Profit Motive. The Squib Merchandising Consordium is saying Howdy! We heard there's a sick shipyard that needs made better. I'm coming in, so don't be shooting! Got an offer to make for the job!"

___________________________________________​

Presuming he was not shooed away or shot out of the air, Pawky would soon land his salvaging vessel, and make his way to stand amidst the many august bidders for the reconstruction of the Jaemus Shipyard. While most others were wearing business suits, he wore a working-Squib's spacer attire. That, and a wide Squib smile on his reddish-orange furred face.


Antipater

 

[Merion Oreno]

OBJECTIVE IV
DIADOCHRON

Merion, in full cultic robes and under the eyes of at least half a dozen security/surveillance cameras, scribbled in a notebook.

I write this in a very clean public park that smells like mild despair.

I haven't felt such freedom from the fear of death since my last death. I could see how freedom-to could feel like an acceptable price for freedom-from.

But then again it seems clear — from the life I've lived, and the options and titles I have — that I could never understand this place or its people. Which makes me wonder whether I could ever understand anyone on any world. What can a prince understand, even if he works for a living? I have a thousand safety nets. The deaths were anomalous.

 

[Diarch Reign]

Objective I
​

Location: Diadochron
Tags: Laphisto Iandre Athlea

---

It was with grim determination that the Diarch and the first cohort of Myrmidons set braced for planetary entry. It was Reign’s first return to Jaemus since his meeting with the droid Antipater . And this time, he was returning in force. A force sect of “Sith-Imperial” restorationists, rejecting the diplomatic overture of the planetary government and withdrawing into the rugged hills of the planet, had waged brutal war. Determined to bring peace to the newest planet of the Diarchy, Reign had responded in force. Laphisto and Lilaste Forces were already ahead of him, but Reign himself was coming.. and he wasn’t alone.

Seated across from him was his closest friend and battle brother, Varlo Finnall, commander of the Myrmidons and veteran of every major campaign the Diarchy had undertaken, studied the Diarch as their ship shuddered.

The older man smirked at the Diarch

“You look tired kid. Sure you don’t want to sit this one out? We can wrap this up for you no problem, maybe show Laphisto and his boys a thing or two”

Reign couldn’t help but bark a quick laugh at that, Varlo was one of the only people who could get away with calling him “Boy” he’d earned it. No one besides his brother and Laphisto had bled so many times by his side.

“I could still run laps around you old man. I’m just preparing for the inevitable clash. Sith cultists. Even worse than the monsters themselves. sycophants worshiping a religion that would sacrifice them in a heartbeat. The droid wants them alive, so show some restraint this time.”

The shuttle shook again, as the pilot called out their destination ahead of them.

Reign gave a last glance at the Myrmidons with him. The first cohort consisted of ten members. Each with him at the battle of Muunilinst. The top of the top, Myrmidon command squad.

As the shuttle landed, they filed out, Black armor and gold cloaks striking a regal visage as the Diarch himself descended after. He made eye contact with Laphisto as Varlo began barking out orders.

“Whisper, Wraith, Scour. Advance forward past the line, tell me what we are dealing with.
Shieldline, Breaker, Grave. Go check on our friends in the 404th, shore up defenses and see to the wounded.

The rest of you with me and the Diarch, let’s get this wrapped up”

The legendary unit snapped into action, Reign having never said a word. The Myrmidons were myth among the Diarchy armed forces and they didn’t need Reign to micromanage them.

Approaching Laphisto, Reign smiled at his friend

“I’m glad you managed to save us some of the enemies my friend. Come let’s see what we’ve got going on here”

 

[Diarch Rellik]

Objective One - Territories
Darkness to light​

It had been some time since the battle of Serenno. Rellik having spent most of his time in solitude meditating. Beyond aiding Laphisto in the work on his homeworld of Kie'vara and travelling the galaxy for a few days - moving through slums and low end diners, he had not done much beyond focus on himself.

There was a slight change in his tone. The typically jovial, warm hearted leader of the Diarchy was often now... quiet. This battle was no different.

As a shadow among foliage he moved. Darting as a specter amongst the Sith-Imperial restorationists forces and incapacitating all that he could. Yet due to his duel with Darth Prazutis sometimes his techniques failed. He could not trick minds as he could before, his illusions were being seen through, and worst of all - he knew he had no one to blame but himself.

Those who could not be tricked, met the Spear of the Star-Fallen King

It was the thoughts and memories of his friend Varis Oakertain that left him feeling that he should not kill anyone in this battle.

"Never forget the first sunrise of a morning where you are not lost."

Was he lost, or more focused than ever before? - He had yet to decide. For the first time in a very long time... he was disillusioned, stunned in nature and drowning in the feelings brought forth by the blade of Darth Prazutis during their duel.

Despite the request to bring in the soothsayers alive, Rellik was doing it either way for his own reasons. Even so, when necessary he threw his spear into the enemy, reaching his hand out for it to return and when it did.The voice of the Warden Kie'Varan echoed through his spear into his very soul.

"I feel your anger to the conqueror Darth Prazutis and those who killed your friend Varis and Still you stand. You have not damned those who rely on you. Do not fret, I will aid you in power for now."

Rellik felt the spirit of the warden watching him. Another Judgement, similar to his father, to the blade of Prazutis, to the spirit of Varis.

A man who has seen women and children needlessly enslaved or killed. A hardened war veteran who had moved passed deciding who should live or die.

It was not until a death of one of his brothers and the attack from Prazutis's blade did he ever question himself. - In his youth he would have had the galaxy burn. Hell's he was on the edge of burning it down now... yet something was telling him not to.

As a figure wreathed in shadow he moved through the enemy. Methodical to the point of calling it an art or science he disarmed, subdued, and sometimes killed those in his way. Un-seen to friend or foe alike as he dealt with his trauma through combat.

Laphisto Iandre Athlea Diarch Reign

 

[Merion Oreno]

OBJECTIVE IV
DIADOCHRON

His meditations over, Merion flipped to a different section of the notebook and got to work on what he was actually supposed to be doing here.

As a navigator for the Chancellorate of Commerce, he was one part of the great program of connecting with worlds recently lost. His core trick was to use his cult's peculiar power — finding worlds that had experienced cataclysm or were about to. That had led him to a strange world called Trevel'ka, population thirty-five billion of disparate Unknown Regions species, very poor, a place of short life expectancy, a place of exploitation and a despair far beyond what he felt here.

Trevel'ka resisted easy solutions. It resisted solutions, period. And though it had pledged itself to the Diarchy, the Diarchy prided itself on delivering a safety and quality of life that would take enormous work to implement.

His job here in Diadochron was to consider whether this model, this kind of life, could be practical or desirable for addressing the Trevel'ka problem. So far he was definitely leaning toward maybe.

 

[Roxxann Tane]

Objective: II Grand Designs
Location: Rural Jaemus
Outfit: Simple Gray Robes
Equipment: Lightsaber, Medpac
Tags: Antipater | Maldor Mecetti

Roxxann had arrived at the rendezvous point to meet Meldo Sathot early it had seemed. Though she had never studied any real science, the possibility of taking a war torn landscape and making it new again was fascinating. Her cousin would likely have stated that the mission here was a waste of Roxxann's talents. Even still she needed to see something good happen after hearing of the death of Varis Oakertain the man who had dug her out of what she thought might be a grave.

With no one to establish contact with Roxxann had allowed herself a moment of calm meditation. After a short amount of time she heard engines of a small ship and rose from her seat in the tall grass. As she walked towards the landed shuttle she recognized the leader of those disembarking. The High Chancellor.

Roxxann had yet to meet the man in person. Her cousin was confident in Maldor's abilities. But as she did with most thinkers, Teckla Tane had been wary of Mecetti's motivations. Roxxann had much more faith in her fellow beings of the galaxy. Besides she had met Maldor's fiancée several times on Lianna before the fall of the Empire. A lovely lady to say the least.

"High Chancellor. It is good to meet you. Arilator Roxxann Tane of the Quasesetorium. Liaison to the Diarchy. It appears that we have arrived prior to our hosts."

 

[Tertius C. Nargath]

LOCATION: Jaemus, Diadochron
OBJECTIVE: Gimme dem assets
TAG: Antipater | Pawky



Jaemus' Shipyards have been a prize in the eyes of the N&Z Umbrella Corporation's leadership for quite some time now, for as long as they have supported the Diarchy they have been eyeing the industrial cluster to which Jaemus belonged. While they now had managed to create possibly the largest shipyards in the entire sector, if not the entire outer rim surrounding Bescane, more capacity was never a bad thing, especially if there was the possibility of gaining skilled labor, a skilled and motivated workforce would essentially be just as important, if not more so than the actual location itself.

It was at Diadochron that the one who held control over the planet had apparently planned to begin the talks and negotiations in regards to a possibility of injecting much needed funds into the planet's industry, the question though as always; was what exactly did they expect in return. Tertius, in his role as Chairman of the N&Z Umbrella Corporation could consider himself the one holding the largest shot at success due to his status within and outside of the Diarchy as an industrial powerhouse. To add to that, he already had had the pleasure to be at the very least shallowly acquainted to the one calling the shots on Jaemus: The Droid Moff Antipater , who used to be part of the Dark Empire, but after its collapse had managed to draw in a lot of the former empire's resources and manpower. This in effect made the Droid Moff a very important key figure in the Diarchy's possible expansion throughout the economic and industrial heart of the outer rim.

The Droid's way of having potential candidates pitch their ideas in a short and succinct way and base his decisions on this was...to be somewhat expected from essentially an evolved program with cold logic as their absolute strength. So it meant that it was also most likely the one who provided the most logical answer to the unasked question, who'd get the deal.

As soon as the chairman's personal Cruiser arrived into the planet's orbit, a small executive shuttle carrying the Marquis himself and a small detachment of his personal guards would traverse towards the surface. As the shuttle entered into the atmosphere and the city itself became visible, tertius looked at the datapad in his hand before turning his attention towards the industrial landscape below. "There is no colder and truer logic than that of asset management... business is logic, thus a true businessman with find the easiest course to the goal."

 

[Maldor Mecetti]

Objective: II Grand Designs
Location: Rural Jaemus
Tags: Antipater Antipater | Maldor Mecetti Roxxann Tane
_____________________________________________________________________

​

Maldor focused on the approaching form, a glimmer of faint recollection in his mind before she spoke. When she introduced himself, he understood it. A trace of resemblance around the eyes. Like the brush-stroke of a famous painter, recognized by collectors. A family resemblance.

Tane.

He did not know how to feel about it. He had always held Teckla in high esteem. One of the competent members of the Empire, more concerned with results than with position. One of the ones maneuvering for the betterment of the Empire and not their own careers. A difficult position to take among the Lost, where the mad Emperor wielded a Damocles sword and swung it wildly based on random impulses of displeasure.

Unfortunately, whatever regard Maldor shared for certain members of the Empire's leadership, it was unlikely to be reciprocated. He knew that he had been endured rather than celebrated among most of his fellows. Always divided from death by one clever machination. One necessary victory.

He realized suddenly that he hadn't been living that way in months.

The Diarchy did not operate on the same principles.

He could breathe, here.

Which wasn't to say he could afford to fail. He might not be executed for failure, but he could be discharged. Replaced. Exiled.

And he did not want to start over again.

Maldor dipped his head, wondering what this Tane's true purpose might be here. Was she hoping for a permanent place in the Diarchy? Or was she an agent of the amoeba that was Imperial reformation?

"Arilator Tane. A pleasure. Your family name is a song to my ears. The Tanes served the Empire well, when I was among them. Tell me, how fares your family in these difficult times? How is Teckla?"

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto spoke briefly with the 404th division commander, exchanging clipped tactical updates and pinpointing the cultists' most fortified positions. The enemy was concentrated across several ridgelines to the north, dug in near a series of collapsed supply depots and natural choke points—locations perfect for ambushes and stubborn last stands. Their presence disrupted key supply lanes and blocked the Directory's ability to safely reclaim nearby territories. With a short nod of understanding, Laphisto turned away from the troopers and looked to Iandre, one brow raised as her earlier offer echoed back in his thoughts.

"That's not a bad idea," he said, voice calm and even. "Why don't you accompany Sergeant Korros and the Flare Runners? Take a forward position, keep low, and follow Korros's lead. He's in charge of the scouting mission observe, report, don't engage unless ordered." He gave her a firm but respectful nod, signaling that her initiative was noted but the structure remained. Despite her training and potential, she was still new to the Order's ranks, still a Private. And in the Lilaste Order, Force-sensitive or not, rank was earned like everything else: through action, discipline, and trust.

"Glad to see you made it out of that gilded palace to join us in the mud, my friend," he said with a dry chuckle, eyes briefly scanning the Myrmidons as they fanned out with practiced efficiency. Turning slightly, he gestured toward Iandre with an open hand, his tone shifting to something more formal. "I'd like to introduce you to my new apprentice. Iandre, this is Diarch Reign. Reign, meet Iandre Athlea fresh from training, and also new to this time like myself. but already proving herself in the field." Laphisto's eyes drifted toward the Myrmidons as they moved with sharp precision through the treeline. He hadn't seen them in person before not until now but he had read the reports. Dozens of them. Battle after battle, campaign after campaign, always the same reputation: relentless, disciplined, unshakable. They carried themselves like predators trained for war and nothing else. There was no wasted movement, no posturing, only lethal efficiency.

To his credit, Laphisto had already ranked them highly, even before witnessing them firsthand. In his private assessments, they stood shoulder to shoulder with the best the Lilaste Order had to offer perhaps even above the average line trooper. They were hardened veterans, shaped by fire and purpose, and their loyalty to Reign was more than symbolic. It was forged in blood.

Quietly, he even considered them in the same tier as the Order's own elite units. Higher, in fact, than standard infantry. Maybe even on par with the newly established commando unit being built under Trace Xyston 's leadership. That comparison was still theoretical, of course Xyston's commandos hadn't seen real action yet. For now, they were blueprints and training logs, not battle-tested operators. On paper, they had potential. But the Myrmidons? They were already legend.

He didn't voice these thoughts, but the recognition was there in the way his eyes lingered, the subtle nod of approval he gave as they passed. He respected warriors who didn't need to speak their strength. The Myrmidons were that kind of force. And as far as he was concerned, they'd earned a place alongside any elite the Order could field. " hows Diarch Rellik ? i heard about what happened on serrono."

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Objective 1
Enemies: Insurgents
Allies: Laphisto Diarch Reign Diarch Rellik

While Iandre had hoped she would be allowed to command three agents, she hadn't expected her plan to work. When Laphisto did not give her leave, he did include her idea with another squadron, and she could join that scouting mission. Times were a bit different, and the Padawan wasn't given the option to lead. That was fine with her, and she nodded acceptance at his command.

It was a very good thing she was wearing her helmet when Diarch Reign joined them with his men. If her face were visible, it held a look of surprise that crossed over into disgust. If they were to reach out and read her through the Force, they would see something similar to a Lothcat puffing out and wanting to hiss. Her self-control kept her from igniting her lightsaber and going on the defense. However, they might notice her hand had strayed to hover near her lightsaber hilt.

Realizing what she had done, Iandre pulled her gloved hand away from her side, took enough steps to within reach of him, and held it out to Diarch Reign to offer a shake. Witnessing how her master treated him greatly affected how she would treat him. They were friends; she trusted Laphisto and might learn to trust this leader.

"I have heard about you and read some of your recorded expeditions."

What she didn't say was that she was pleased to meet him.

 

[Diarch Reign]

Objective I​

Location: Jaemus | Foothills
Tags: Iandre Athlea Laphisto Diarch Rellik

---

Reign and Varlo had listened to the location report given by the commander of the 404th before Laphisto had turned their way. Before the dragonoid man could speak to them though, Varlo had pulled the final three Myrmidons with him and had begun issuing orders into the comm within his helmet.

"Forward squad, transmitting identified enemy locations to you now, I want them blind. Locate and disrupt their comm network, then get to work on the southern most locale. I want numbers, strong points and any cracks in their defense. Report back by 1100"

The large man then stalked over to check on how the defense and med care of the 404th was going. He knew he did not need to defend the Diarch, it was more a bond of loyalty and honor that he kept by his side, but he knew when Reign and Laphisto were together, it was unlikely any harm could truly come to them.

Reign acknowledge Laphisto in kind when his old friend started talking to him

"You know me too well, I'd rather bleed in the mud here with our friends than play king in that gilded palace. Besides, if I didn't show up, no one would shoot at you"

He said with a bit of a chuckle. It was something of an inside joke that whenever Reign and Laphisto were together that they ended up shot at.
His eye however was drawn to the padawan as she approached, she seemed tense at the sight of him and felt within the force like a nexu on the hunt.

However, when she approached he smiled at her warmly, a stark contrast from the power of the Dark Side she no doubt felt coming from him. He would show his friends apprentice that the Dark Side did not need to corrupt it's user. He took the hand that was extended and grasped it firmly, his kind way not shifting at all.

"Iandre, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. Laphisto has spoken quite highly of you and it is a pleasure to me to see my friend taking on a training role. He has so much knowledge to pass along"

As he turned back to Laphisto, the warm tone was replaced by one of deep sadness.

"My brother is in pain. Varis was, I believe, the best friend he's ever had. His loss is felt deeply and Rellik will need us before the end. The path we walk requires control, yet that control is a thin thing. That is why we have each other, but the loss of family hits all hard."

He shook his head sadly as he continued looking back towards the apprentice next to him.

"You are fortunate, my friend, to have found Laphisto. You have stepped into something greater than one being alone, the Diarchy, Lilaste, all of us, we are family. And I welcome you, little sister."

 

[Diarch Rellik]

From above within the foliage of trees a beast stalked.

Boots, metal, and clanking machine began to flood the forest as the thinning lines were filled with reinforcements. - Likewise from the Diarchy side it appeared the front had been reinforced. Piercing yellow eyes saw the trademarks - Myrmidons, Lilaste order insignia's. Laphisto and Reign had arrived.
The Hunt had now truly begun. Memories of stalks with his friend coming back in real time. There were to many enemies to flow freely from group to group, at least until the assault had fully begun.

With a throw of his spear at precisely timed intervals that matched the march of war, Rellik stabbed the fine tool into trees and used it to swing from one large area to the other. Using his cloak to give himself more air time during his acrobatic movement.

Once perched in a sufficient hunting stand within a tree he would await what he deemed high level targets. Logistical troops, medics, sergeants, and officers. With his prey in range he would plant his spear within a branch, hold it with his legs and descend upon them. Wrapping them within his cloak and smothering//assaulting them until incapacitated. At least he tried to leave them unconscious but things do happen in war.

During one descent to snatch a target he did not give himself or his cloak enough reach.

The man saw them, reached for his pistol and shot directly at the Diarchs face.

With eyes unblinking - it seemed as though the whole thing happened in slow motion. Even the cloak coming in front of his face in instinct and protecting him from the blast.

Regretfully, Rellik loosened his legs and dropped to the forest floor. The cloak wrapped around the pistol held hand as Rellik ducked under the officer, palm open. With a singing metal noise the spear, the warden - answered his call. Coming down from the tree to his hand and goring directly through the imperial that shot at him.

Straightening his back and looking around it was clear he could not do this forever... at least alone.

It was than he felt a smack of fabric, hard fabric - come straight across his face. He turned to his left to see that his Cloak had fully unclipped it self from him and was floating in front of him.

THE WARDEN: "Did that material just hit you?"

"Did you just hit me?"

The cloak crossed its bottom corners across where a chest would be in a fashion that looked disgruntled. It flashed the burn mark from the pistol as if to show that it was upset. Rellik knew what it wanted.

"I will return to the Diarchys line. I will gather myself and not lose focus again. Do not worry, you mean a lot to me. Come."

With that, the same way he was moving before he darted through the trees back to where his friends or better - family were awaiting.

Taking a several rotation twirl along the spear and amplifying himself in the force - he launched from the tree line into the air. Floating for a moment as he sensed for his brother. An easy signature for him to find, no matter the circumstance.

Having locked on, he called for the Spear of the star fallen king and floated down to meet the others.

Yet, still upset with him. As he was closing his descent he felt the cloak deciding this landing was not to be glorious or majestic.

Landing on the ground with a large thud before Laphisto Iandre Athlea and Diarch Reign - Rellik gave a thumbs up and spoke through the mud.

"I started the fighting a little before you all but welcome to Jaemus everyone."

 

[Antipater]

Going through customs in Diadochron was something of a gauntlet on its own. The security agents were cyberized and relentless, and they were shadowed by patrol troopers - whose sour moods could be detected even through their plastoid panoply. Once their identities and intentions were verified, they were conveyed by a specially chartered air shuttle directly to the Administrative Zone.

There, the imposing Control Ziggurats towered over the rest of the dreary city. At one point they had housed legions of civil servants. What they housed now was not well known. The “prime” Control Ziggurat was the shuttle’s only stop.

Pawky and Tertius were unloaded along with another fireteam of bidders, representing smaller and less important firms along the Braxant Run, and guided to a sensible lobby decorated in the Chandrilan style.

And then they had to wait their turn.

-----​

Session 03 - Tertius Nagrath

It was an empty chamber - white walled, with a prominent viewscreen embedded in the wall and an impressive half-circle meeting table with embedded consoles. All the seats were empty except for the one at the head, where Moff Antipater waited patiently.

The droid’s pressed imperial uniform was practically unchanged from the last time Tertius saw it on Mygeeto.

“Marquis Nargath… It is a pleasure once again,” the droid’s speech was a slow drone, devoid of any inflection that might suggest sarcasm of sincerity. He idly adjusted a knob. “I hope the Mygeetans will behave themselves in your absence.”

-----​

Session 07 - Pawky

Pawky had to wait longer than Nagrath. That was life for you. The sideways glances the squib attracted might have suggested why. He was one of only two non-humans present for today’s bidding (the muuns were scheduled for tomorrow), aside from a twitchy neimoidian who was brought to the meeting chamber only just ahead of him.

The meeting chamber was as white and sterile as it had been before, and the droid-moff sat unmoved in the very same spot. Antipater’s blank faceplate tracked Pawky as he entered. Scrutinizing already.

“Mister Bamblam…” A long and perhaps judgemental pause. “You represent the Squib Merchandising Consortium. They are not familiar to me. Perhaps you might tell me something of their work.”

Tertius C. Nargath | Pawky​

 

[Pawky]

Session 7 - Objective III
The Big Money
___________________________________________
​

"Sure thing, Droid Man," Pawky said, giving a thumb's up by gesture of assent. One red eye and one hazel eye regarded the judge of this bidding war brightly.

"Squibs are Salvagers," he began, "wacky good. Like the Jawas, a bit, but with more ships and tech. To join the Squib Merchandising Consortium, (what's we call SMC for shortsies), a Squib's gotta salvage a ton of stuff. To prove you've got the bones, yeah? Then we can join, then we can get ship, then we're proper Squib Salvagers."

He made a grand gesture with his hands, "There's a million of us out there, in our salvage ships. Best salvagers. With the best tractors on 'em. We love tractors. Gobbling up all the salvage. The SMC is a hugeness."

He pointed at the droid.

"But you'll be thinking, 'So What? I don't be needing salvagers! I be needing builders!'"

Now Pawky held up two palms.

"That's where you're going wrong, friend! That's where you're not knowing the way of the Squib!"

He shook his head for additional emphasis.

"We don't just huck trash. Naw. We don't just steal old mining trucks like those Jawas. We gots shipyards. We builds ships. Somma the best, droid man. Aren't nobody gots tractor/pressor tech like us. We're being smart as a smarty smartness."

He touched his temple to show where the brains were.

"We sell stuff all overs the galaxy. But not broken trash. We fixes it up. Makes it like new. Then we sells it on, see?"

He made a wide gesture, as though indicating past bidders.

"They can't offer what we can. 'Cause we can source parts for the building of your shipyard better'n'anyone. And at tiniest cost. Not some sad bantha-poodoo parts, neither. Good as new, maybe better-than. Fixing, re-designing-bettering. That's what we do, yannow?

So we fix up that shipyard. Better'n'ever. But you take the money any of these guys was charging you and you cut it in four pieces, friend.

That's what SMC does for you.

Twice the yard, quarter the cost."

He winked. "Aren't even a droid work that cheap, eh?"



Antipater Tertius C. Nargath

 

[Tertius C. Nargath]

LOCATION: Jaemus, Diadochron
OBJECTIVE: Gimme dem assets
TAG: Antipater | Pawky



The trip through Diadochron was... interesting, a bit bewildering and at time overwhelming, but interesting nonetheless, as everything which could be seen indicated logic, a feeling of pure, unadultered logic focused on the maintainance of purpose and the idea of regulated and controlled progress. It was at the very least something Tertius could have expected given the fact he knew who firmly held the strings in their hands on this planet.

No surprises, no strange things that would unsettle the Marquis and the one member of his retinue which he brought along just to keep up some semblance of security. With a Valkan Centurion by his side, his security was practically guaranteed, especially since he did not have a bad relationship with those in power on Jaemus to begin with.

Upon being brought before what appeared to just be Antipater himself, the Marquis of Valkan showed a faint grin, nodding politely towards the droid in a sign of mutual respect. "Moff Antipater, the feeling is mutual, and yes... It seems the High Chancellorate has managed to bring the Mygeetans into the fold, in the meantime this does mean that production in the N&Z's Mygeetan facilities might be returned to the old quotas. Now, as I understand though, you are not one to be dilly-dallying with courtesies and pointless pleasantries, so shall we simply... dispense with those and move on to the core of these talks?"

It wasn't to insult or dismay the Droid Moff, that the Marquis turned his speech pattern so quickly, it was because he knew that business, you had two kinds of people: those who wanted all the theatrics and preening that came with the transfer of wealth and then you had those who did not need any frivolity, who saw it as just that: a change of ownership, a transfer of goods, services and credits...nothing more, nothing less.

"As you are well aware, with the construction of the Bescane Orbital Shipyards , the N&Z may have somewhat indirectly furthered the decline of Jaemus' shipbuilding relevancy within the region. However, we at the N&Z do not yet dismiss the importance of Jaemus in the slightest, for not only does it have an economy which can be easily stabilized and supported, it also has one of the most skilled and reliable laborforces in the galaxy up for grabs at this moment, skilled laborers from the shipyards and a still thriving industrial heart on the Braxant run... so my proposal is simple: The N&Z, rather than offering to fully take over the shipyards, proposes a system of exchange. We offer a seat at the table within the N&Z for those who own or are at the very least responsible for the future of Jaemus Shipyards. We will offer licenses and material in return for a part of Jaemus' skilled laborforce."

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto gave a small chuckle toward Diarch Reign , offering a soft nod in his direction. "And where would the fun be if I wasn't getting shot at? Sure as hell beats the incident that happened on Kiev'ara, I'll tell you that." He shook his head slightly at the memory, but the humor faded as he listened to the Diarch's words. A quiet frown rolled across his face as he heard the update on Rellik's condition. Crossing his arms over his chest, his posture turned more solemn.

"Let's hope the Warden and Vrax as well can help guide him through this pain. He's strong, but even strength has its limits when loss runs that deep." His tone softened further as he glanced back to Reign. "Speaking of... how is Aeris? I heard the young soul was harmed during the fight with Saurav'ix. I do hope he's recovered well enough."

Laphisto's attention shifted as Iandre Athlea spokeher voice calm but unmistakably cautious. He caught the tension in her stance and couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the edge of his mouth. She was holding her own, despite the weight of the moment. That was good. Growth was never comfortable.

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words never left his lips. A sudden, thudding crash nearby sent a pulse of motion through the group as a cloaked figure slammed into the earth with all the grace of a dropped cargo crate. Laphisto blinked once, slowly, his gaze rising toward the trees and then back down at the mud-slick form sprawled in front of them. noticing Diarch Rellik flat on his back in the dirt.

He raised a brow, clearly amused. "I take it your flying lessons are not going well, then, my friend?" A low chuckle followed as he stepped forward, reaching down to offer Rellik a hand. Helping him to his feet, Laphisto gave a quiet nod and let his arms fall to his sides. He let the Force flow gently over his vision a habit more than necessity now, but it grounded him in the moment. Where once he had relied on it to compensate for near-blindness, now it simply sharpened what his healing eyes had begun to reclaim. Still, the change had left its mark. The once-clear green-blue hue of his gaze now shimmered with faint streaks of red and gold. . "Well then," he said with a wry smile, "let's show these cultists the full might of the Diarchy, shall we?"