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Dominion Iron Sunset - Dominion of Jaemus [DIA]

Machines Making Machines

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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.​
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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?​

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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.​

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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.​

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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

High Commander of the Lilaste Order
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 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.
 
Objective: 1
Allies: Laphisto 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

Diarchy - High Chancellor House Sancetti
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IRON SUNSET
Objective 2 - Grand Designs

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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 Antipater
 

Pawky

Squib Name: Pawketti-bamblam
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Objective III - The Big Money
Aboard the SMC Profit Motive
on approach to Diadochron

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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!"


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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 Antipater
 

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